“Gosh, Mil, I get it,” he said. “I’m sure that’s how most people feel when they lose someone too early. But the rest of the world doesn’t plan to visit their relatives in the Underworld. They find other ways to cope. I think you just need some tools to deal with loss.”
“If you haven’t noticed by now, Noah, I’m not the rest of the world. These are my tools,” she said. “I’ve found my new project.” Her mood lifted instantly as they stepped out into the executive offices. “Leave me be. I’m meeting the dean in ten minutes.”
After returning to the shores of Atlantis on the back of their new whale friend, Skylar and Argan made their way to the lab. Once inside, they saw technicians busy at instruments that vaguely resembled microscopes.
Joel should see this, Skylar thought. They were holographic cylinder tubes of light. The techs wore shields over their eyes. At first glance it looked like the eyewear was protective, but as Skylar observed the techs, she recalled this technology from a memory she’d forgotten she had. The glasses were a communication device. The tech could interact with the matter being examined—ask it questions with their eyes.
Skylar got closer. A desire to know more stirred in her stomach. “Hello,” she said to the tech.
He stood at attention. “Hello, ma’am,” he said. He appeared older than she was.
“What are you working on?”
He lifted his chin and smiled proudly. “Perfecting cancer.”
Her stomach dropped. “Excuse me?”
“What are you doing, Sky?” Argan asked. “We’ve got to go.”
“In a minute,” she said.
“Here, I’ll show you,” the tech said, motioning for her to put on the glasses.
She obliged, and once she did was transported dimensionally into the matter being examined. She took off the glasses immediately and returned to the room.
“Is this virtual reality?” she asked.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Never mind,” she said. “Continue.” She put the glasses back on and braced herself. The ugliness of her surroundings was brutal but she wanted to get to the truth. She breathed out her mouth to steady her nerves.
“Are you filling this matter with fear?” she asked.
“Kinda,” he said sophomorically.
“Why?” she asked.
He paused for a moment to think. “Those were my orders,” he eventually said.
“That’s it? You never thought to question those orders?” she asked.
“No one questions the Archer,” he said.
She took in a deep breath and returned to view the specimen. This is cancer, she thought. With the glasses on, she was consumed by the material. Her only saving thought was that this was all simulated. She could remove the glasses at any time, or so she hoped. For the moment, instead of turning away, she leaned in to the experience.
“Come on, Sky,” Argan said, tugging at her clothes. “We don’t have time for this.”
She didn’t look up. “This shit has affected my life for years and I’m not moving.”
“I can’t wait for you,” he said and left for the Sanctuary.
She hardly noticed he’d left. Everything in her view was caked with corroded, black-and-brown-marbled globs of fat. She reached out with her hand to touch it, clairsentiently. Greasy. And the stench was intolerable; she had to breathe through her mouth. “What are you?” she asked.
In her mind, she heard the answer: “I am the result of a long history of hatred. As long as man has walked the planet, there has been hate toward one another, there has been hatred toward the self. When hate perpetuates, I am allowed to grow. My darkness overtakes the light, and when enough light has been extinguished from the cells, the body dies.”
“Why are you facilitating this monster?” she asked the technician.
“Oh, we’re not,” he said. “Mankind is doing that on its own on all the timelines. There has only been one time period of peace and that was even before us. We’re just refining what humanity has created.” He grinned. “The Archer is the Lord of Karma. You know this.”
“I do now,” she said.
“Cancer is very patient. It can wait for centuries, across timelines, but it is the seed of hate, waiting. When the karma of a soul comes due, it sprouts. We’re just looking to use it at will—on our timeline, not its timeline.”
Skylar thought of Cassie and ran out of the lab toward the Sanctuary.
Argan was waiting when Skylar stepped into the room. She approached the mirror.
Magda wasted no time with greetings. “You won’t have this mirror to run to much longer,” she said back to Skylar’s reflection.
“This is important and I need an accurate answer,” Skylar said.
“You know the answer,” Magda said. “Just like Cassandra knew. She knew her whole life that she would have to pay the karmic debt of unknown lifetimes of hate. The Great Mothers and their kin are not above emotion. They like to think so, but they are the most volatile of beings.”
“I always thought she could have been saved,” Skylar said. “Modern medicine, what they’re keeping from us …”
“That is one point of view I won’t deny, but remember one vital key: the darkness is always serving the light. Cancer is no different. It runs much deeper than what technology can fix, as it is the reaping of the history of man’s hatred of others and of self. Love’s healing, on the other hand, occurs on an individual and a global level. It is absolute. If a person can truly eradicate cancer from their cells, they have helped heal the wound of the collective by opening to the flow of love. But here’s the other side of it”—she smiled at her secret—“if they don’t extinguish the cancer, and they die, they still fulfill that healing. They still help the light. For then the karma is cleared and the collective heals just the same. Those left behind mourn and feel despair, yes, but please know in your true heart, Divine Skylar, that your loved one made the ultimate sacrifice for you. She died so you could live free. Through your pain, you were broken open to love’s light. You didn’t see it that way at first, but you feel the stirrings of understanding now about what cancer truly is. It is the ultimate price but also the ultimate redeemer. Either way, perceived win or loss, those who carry cancer are your true angels, transmuting the hate most are too blind, or too afraid, to see.”
Given the gift of higher understanding of the disease that had tormented her for years, Skylar wept and touched the mirror, trying to touch Magda’s face. Through her tears, she smiled. “I can’t believe I’m saying this.” She crossed her arms and hugged herself, suddenly chilled. “But I don’t think there is anything you can teach me that would be greater than this.”
“Then this is where I leave you, Divine Skylar. I was only waiting for your say so,” Magda said. “You don’t need me anymore. Call on your own abilities. They are stronger than mine. You carry the magic of the human heart.” She smiled and faded from the mirror.
Skylar touched the cold glass on the wall again, knowing it would be the last time she saw Magda.
Argan put his arms around Skylar. “I’m sorry, Sky. That was … I don’t know what that was.”