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“Let’s dance again in the waking world.”
Acheron had said those words in the somber light of Dreamflux Reef, after Stelle and the rest of the Astral Express had departed for reality and Black Swan had emerged from the shadows to greet her. They’d agreed upon a time and place, so here Acheron was, sitting in a dimly-lit corner booth in one of the Reverie Hotel’s many clubs, watching couples dancing to live music at the far end of the room and tapping her foot anxiously.
“Excuse me,” she asked as one of the hosts passed by. “Would you mind telling me the time?”
“It’s, ah, a quarter till 11,” he replied, checking his watch.
“Thanks. And this is the Blue Hour Club, right?”
“Sure is.”
Acheron sank lower in her seat. Black Swan was 15 minutes late, which seemed odd given the mimetic entity’s ability to pass through walls and other boundaries that might hinder a physical being’s movement. Still tapping her foot, Acheron reached into the pocket of her suit jacket, took out her phone, and opened her notes app, which contained a detailed set of instructions on how to get to the Blue Hour Club. She scanned the instructions once, twice, three times—yes, she’d definitely come the correct way. So where on earth was that Memokeeper?
She began scanning the instructions a fourth time when it dawned on her that perhaps there were multiple Blue Hour Clubs in the Reverie Hotel. She wouldn’t put it past whoever designed this huge, convoluted building to make things as difficult as possible for someone who was directionally challenged like herself. Just as she was about to get up to speak with the host again, a voice tickled her ear.
“Waiting for someone?”
Acheron nearly jumped out of her seat. Black Swan’s melodic laughter filled the air as she materialized into sight.
“You’re late,” Acheron said accusingly. The Memokeeper wiped the corners of her eyes with a gloved hand. She was wearing a close-fitting lavender dress, and her signature veil had been replaced by an ornamental headpiece that circled her forehead and trailed down the back of her head. A glimmering shawl hung from her arms, completing the outfit. She looked stunning, but Acheron was too cross at the moment to compliment her.
“I’m not, actually,” Black Swan said. “In fact, I arrived rather early. I just decided to keep myself hidden for a while.”
“What for?” Acheron asked, though a guess was already forming in her mind.
“Well…the image of you, alone in the shadowy corner of a nightclub, tapping your foot impatiently in anticipation of my arrival, seemed too beautiful a memory to tamper with.”
Yes, that was about what Acheron was expecting, given Black Swan’s previous antics.
“I’m sure Fuli will appreciate this latest addition to your stalking record,” Acheron said. “Why don’t you turn it into a lightcone while you’re at it?”
“Hmm. An intriguing suggestion,” Black Swan muttered.
“I was joking,” Acheron said hurriedly.
Black Swan giggled, raising a hand to her lips.
‘Don’t worry, Miss Acheron. I was, too. I think.”
“You’re an insufferable tease, even now at the very end,” Acheron said with a sigh. She turned toward the Memokeeper, looking her up and down. “At least you look nice.”
Black Swan smiled. She didn't need to use her Memokeeper powers to know that Acheron's words were genuine—the way the Emanator of Nihility's eyes shone as she looked at her gave it all away.
“And you look like a dream in that suit,” the Memokeeper responded. She got up. “Well then. Will you ask this insufferable tease to one last dance?”
The Emanator of Nihility and the Memokeeper looked each other in the eyes. One last dance. The bittersweetness underlying their easy banter began to break through to the surface, weighing down on both of their hearts.
“In just a few short moments, the curtains of this beautiful dream will close,” Black Swan murmured, her voice suddenly soft and solemn. “But before that, we have one final performance. Our swan song, as it were.”
“Alright.” Acheron hoisted herself up, then offered Black Swan her hand.
“Ready for another dance, Memokeeper?”
The Blue Hour Club was the most old-fashioned of the Reverie Hotel’s many hangout spots. Instead of the neon lights and booming basses of other late-night venues, this one favored a quaint atmosphere. A string quartet played on a roomy elevation at the far end of the room, and in the clearing in front of it, a dozen or so couples—most of them older—danced slowly to the understated music, lit by the club’s signature blue lighting.
Acheron and Black Swan joined the other dancers in the middle of a song, with Acheron taking the lead. For the first couple of pieces, they danced in silence, focusing on stepping in sync with the music and with each other. Finally, Acheron spoke.
“So. What are your plans?”
“Hmm,” Black Swan hummed. “Well. I was thinking I’d join the Astral Express.”
Acheron was so caught off-guard by the response that she sniggered.
“You’re kidding.”
“Perhaps only temporarily. I am, after all, bound to the Garden first and foremost. But, seeing as how the Garden is interested in preserving precious memories….well, what better opportunity is there for me to fulfill my duties than to travel with a group of Nameless to an uncharted planet?”
“Do you have someplace specific in mind?” Acheron asked. Her expression, which had up until then been serene, was now much more animated. Black Swan sensed confusion, curiosity, and…envy?...in Acheron’s mind.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Black Swan said. “Have you heard of Amphoreus? Some call it the Eternal Land.”
Acheron thought for a moment.
“No,” she replied. “Or if I have, I don’t recall the name.”
“It’s an extremely unknown planet,” Black Swan said. “By all accounts, one that not even the great Akivili ever reached. I thought the Nameless might be interested in walking a road even further than that of their legendary predecessor.”
“A road deeper and further than Akivili’s,” Acheron murmured. Black Swan felt a sharp tug of longing in Acheron’s mind, but it vanished as soon as it had appeared. “Are you sure they’ll accept your proposal? Are you—are you sure they’ll even want you to travel with them?”
Black Swan laughed.
“Do you doubt my powers of persuasion?”
Acheron looked into Black Swan’s eyes, which were as full of cunning as they were beautiful, and then at her perfectly formed lips, which had so often hypnotized her with their silvery words.
“No. No, I don’t.” If Black Swan wanted to become a member of the Astral Express within the hour, she would no doubt find a way.
They reached a stopping point in their conversation just as the quartet wrapped up its current song and the dancers slowed to a standstill. For a few dreadful moments, the two women thought that the end had snuck up on them already and that they’d have to part before they’d had any time to prepare their hearts. But then the first violinist walked up to the front of the stage and announced that the quartet was performing its last song. A few moments later, the music resumed. This new song was melancholic; it flowed over them like the passage of time, each note crossing the threshold from present to past one by one to create a melody that could only exist as a result of memory.
Their sweet dream was not over just yet. The two women held each other closer as they swayed to the bittersweet tune.
“What about you?” Black Swan asked. “Where will you go after the Planet of Festivities?”
“I don’t have any concrete plans for the immediate future,” Acheron answered. “But I’ll find something soon enough.”
Black Swan’s next words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“Would you like to come with us?” she asked as lightly as she could manage. “You’re already well-acquainted with Stelle, Welt, and Dan Heng, and though you’ve only spent a few moments with Miss March and Miss Himeko, I can see they’ve made quite an impression on you, given how much care you put into selecting cosmetic gifts for them the other day.”
Acheron’s eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed into a slight pout.
“Just how often have you stalked me these past few days?”
“An experienced Memokeeper can discern much just from glancing at surface memories,” Black Swan explained, dodging the question. “So, what do you say, Miss Acheron? Will you join me aboard the Astral Express?”
Acheron peered into her dance partner’s shimmering eyes. Snippets of possible futures, all of them golden and glowing, flashed through her mind like the windows of a train speeding through the cosmos.
In one of them, she and the rest of the crew were sitting at one of the Express’s tables, which was laden with food that she’d prepared…
In another, she and Welt had gotten into a heated argument regarding the strategy for one of their missions…
In yet another, she and Black Swan had snuck into the parlor car for a romantic night outside of the train’s stuffy and thin-walled bedrooms…
In all of them, she saw herself living with a fervor she hardly recognized. That golden future stretched out before her, a dream even more dazzling than the one she was leaving behind. Beside it, the path she was destined to walk seemed suddenly unbearable.
Walking this path means shouldering a burden heavier than anyone else’s.
…
Tell me, Raiden Bosenmori Mei. Are you prepared to walk this path?
…I am.
“Well?” the Memokeeper asked, pulling Acheron back to reality. Acheron looked into her dance partner’s face. She was smiling her usual grin, but her voice had wavered just now, and her hands were trembling in Acheron’s own. Acheron’s heart sank to her stomach.
“I…can’t.”
“...Why not?” Black Swan’s voice was low and uncharacteristically hoarse.
“My reason for being…is to guide the wandering souls,” Acheron began slowly. “I lead them across the still waters of oblivion to the other shore, keeping as many from succumbing to the Nihility as possible.” She paused, letting the words sink in.
“Does it have to be you?” Black Swan asked, her voice barely audible above the music, which was slowly but surely building up. “Can’t someone take your place?”
“No one else has managed to become an Emanator of Nihility, and no one else will,” Acheron replied simply.
“I…I refuse to believe that. After all, ‘the so-called impossible is merely something that has yet to happen.’ Perhaps some—”
“Black Swan, please,” Acheron interrupted, an urgent edge in her voice. “Please don’t try to persuade me out of this. Because…because if anyone can, it’s you.”
There was a part of Black Swan that heard a challenge in Acheron’s words—a challenge to push further until the Emanator of Nihility bent to her will. But there was another part of her that knew that to persuade Acheron against her destiny would be to betray the one she loved.
In the end, though it broke her heart, her respect for Acheron won over her desire.
“Alright. I won’t.”
Around them, the music was building up in swells, like ocean waves leading up to a tsunami. Tides were churning in the usually tranquil sea of Black Swan’s mind as well. The feeling was overwhelming. Before she knew what was happening, her vision had become blurry with tears.
Until that point, Acheron hadn’t even been aware that the Memokeeper could cry. She felt her heart ache with a tenderness she hadn’t known in many years. She held her dance partner closer and leaned in so that her cheek brushed against Black Swan’s and her lips were beside the other woman’s ear.
“One day, I will reach the Nihility’s end. Until then, my place is not with the living and their joys, but with the departed and their sorrows.”
Black Swan nodded. She blinked several times until the tears dissipated, leaving just a slight shimmer on her long lashes.
“I hope I’ll be there to see it,” she murmured.
“See what?” Acheron asked, turning to face Black Swan head-on again.
“Your future. The days of your life after you’ve reached the Nihility’s end. The days of your life that will, after countless years in the unending rain, undoubtedly be full of sunshine.”
The music had swelled to a tipping point. Lights of varying hues of blue danced around them, and in that variegated lighting, Black Swan saw her dream dance partner’s eyes gleam with an indescribable emotion.
“I hope so, too,” Acheron murmured. Then she pulled Black Swan in by the waist and leaned forward. It took a few moments of feeling the Emanator of Nihility’s cool lips against her own for Black Swan to respond, but respond she did, leaning in to reciprocate. Memories flowed between the two women as they kissed—memories of all the wonderful and strange and heartbreaking things they’d experienced in the Planet of Festivities, and beyond that, hazier visions of the events that had led them there. Emotions, too, were exchanged—longing, regret, tenderness, and, faintest of all, hope. They remained close after parting lips—their foreheads touching, their breathing irregular and heavy—as the music tapered toward its resolution.
“Acheron,” Black Swan said breathlessly. “Acheron, my love. Will I ever see you again?” Her body was shaking rather intensely, but her dream dance partner held her firmly so that she wouldn’t fall.
“The future is boundless,” Acheron replied gently. “You know that better than I do, don’t you?”
Black Swan took a deep breath in and out, steadying her body and her heart.
“Of course.”
A few priceless moments later, the music reached its conclusion, and the otherworldly blue light was replaced by a warm yellow. The quartet members on the stage began to stir, packing their instruments. The inevitable end was upon them at last.
Hand in hand, Acheron and Black Swan joined the other couples in leaving the dance floor. They made their way to the dimly-lit corner booth where they had met earlier that night. It couldn’t have been more than an hour ago, but it felt like an eternity had gone by.
“Well, it’s time.”
“Yes.” Black Swan turned to face Acheron, a hand over her heart. “Thank you for all the memories you’ve given me over the course of this adventure. I will surely preserve them, down to the finest detail.”
There seemed to be a deeper implication to that statement, perhaps one having to do with Black Swan’s position as a Memokeeper of the Garden of Recollection, but Acheron didn’t inquire further.
“I, too, will keep my memories of you etched in my heart, where no amount of Nihility will destroy them.”
The two women stared at each other for a while in silence until Acheron finally spoke.
“We should go.”
“Indeed. Farewell, Acheron. Until next time.” With that, Black Swan stepped into the shadows and began fading away.
“Black Swan,” Acheron called suddenly.
Black Swan stopped in her tracks, which in her case meant fading back into sight.
“Yes?”
“There’s something I’d like to say before we part ways.”
Black Swan, fully materialized, turned to face Acheron once more.
“Please go on.”
“While we were dancing, you compared my life to an unending rain,” Acheron began. “While I won’t deny that that’s an apt comparison, I don’t think it’s the full picture, either. After all, there are days when the rain is but a slight, pleasant drizzle, and there are other days when it ceases entirely. And, although they are exceedingly rare, there are even moments when the sun peers out of the heavy gray clouds and shines its light on me, filling my world with warmth.
“Although these moments are fleeting, I think they’re the reason why I’m still here today. In this life, it’s the little things that are keeping it all together. And so…” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, a gentle yet breathtaking smile lit up her face.
“Thank you for extending your hand to me that day. Thank you…for filling my world with your fleeting warmth.”
Once more, Black Swan felt her heart flutter before that beautiful soul. A thousand words rose up to her lips, but she stopped herself. After all, if she let loose everything that was on her heart, the two of them would never leave each other, and Black Swan had promised she wouldn’t do that. So instead, she kept her words measured, though it tore her heart to do so.
“And thank you again for all the precious memories you’ve shared with me. I wish you many more moments of fleeting warmth on your journey toward the primal light. Until we meet again.”
And so the two women parted, setting off on their chosen paths—paths that had intersected for a brief, unforgettable moment before diverging into the boundless future.