A Meet of Tribes (A Shade of Vampire #45)(63)

“Why do you need to save Eritopia?”

“It’s not just me,” I replied. “There are more with me, Oracles, incubi, succubi, a Druid, my friends, the Dearghs outside this room. We all need to save Eritopia.”

“Why are you here?”

I thought that one over for a second, convinced I’d already answered.

“I’m here for the book, I told you.”

“Why do you want the book?”

It sounded a little too repetitive for my frayed nerves. I took a deep breath.

“Because I need to save Eritopia.”

“Why you?”

I sighed, beginning to understand why Inon had mentioned patience as a prerequisite to obtaining the book.

“Because it had to be me.”

A moment passed before the voice sounded again in my head, like a distant memory.

“What will you give in return for the book?”

“Whatever I can.”

“That is not enough.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“What are you willing to give?”

I ran my fingers through my hair. It seemed I was in for a long ride.





Serena





I spent a long time doing this back and forth with the box. I was thirsty, hungry, and pacing the room nervously, answering the same string of questions over and over, leading me to the same ending.

I was exhausted. It had been so long that I dozed off on the floor between questions, but I couldn’t tell for how many hours. I woke up, realizing that I was still stuck in the chamber with the black diamond box staring down at me, patiently waiting for my answers. And I tried again and again and again. My eyes stung, my head hurt, and the more time passed, the more drained I felt.

I struggled with different emotional stages, from anger and frustration to hopelessness and despair. I raked my brain for reasonable arguments to convince the box to open, but it didn’t respond. It threw me for yet another loop.

In the absence of a clock, it felt like time had deliberately slowed down, just to make things worse.

“What are you willing to give in return for the book?”

I had promised fealty, favors, my own blood, anything that could get me closer to getting that book out of that wretched black diamond box. But it wouldn’t budge. All roads ended here.

“What are you willing to give in return for the book?”

“Again, I ask, what do you want me to give in return for the book? Name your price!”

“This is not about what I want. It’s about what you want to give. How much is Eritopia worth to you?”

“It’s a world full of creatures who deserve to live. What value can I place on an entire world?!”

“Do you want Eritopia to live?”

“Yes,” I sighed.

“Give me a reason.”

“Because everyone deserves a chance at life, and it shouldn’t be determined by a monster like Azazel. He has no right to do what he’s doing.”

“Why do you want Eritopia to live? It’s not your world, is it?”

I scoffed. Deep inside, I understood the point that the box, as annoyingly sentient as it seemed, was trying to make.

“I don’t have to belong to this world to want to save it. Life is precious everywhere and in all of its forms.”

A long silence followed, as if it waited for a more complete answer.

“If I don’t save Eritopia, my own planet will perish. The death of Eritopia means the death of everyone and everything I hold dear,” I said.

A beat.

“So, then, what are you willing to sacrifice in order to save Eritopia?” The words were the same, but the tone was deeper now, as if it was only now getting serious.

I started considering the grim options, which I had avoided entirely throughout the time I’d been in that chamber. But it seemed as though I was running out of time, and desperate measures were due. I thought about what I could live without, and my stomach churned painfully.

“You can have my eyesight,” I said.

“Your eyesight to save a world? Do you feel that’s enough?”

“My arms. My legs. My voice. You pick! Just take something!”

“This is not a meat market. You don’t just offer up a piece of yourself thinking it will get you what you want. It does not work like that. What are you willing to give in return for the book? What is the absolute value that you place on its use toward saving Eritopia?”

“It’s essential to saving Eritopia!”

“Is it worth just your eyesight. Or a finger? Or your leg?”

It dawned on me then that I wasn’t being entirely honest with myself. I knew, deep down, that the book was worth more than I was willing to give, even if that included my limbs or any of my senses. It was probably worth more than I was.

More time passed in utter silence, as I gradually succumbed to a new feeling. I despised that box. It made me queasy.

“What do you think is the right price for the book?” I tried again.

“I cannot tell you that. You must tell me. What will you give in return for the book?”

I caved in, overwhelmed by desperation. I fell to my knees, letting out all the anger and fear that had been mounting inside of me since the first day I had set foot in Eritopia. I had pushed it all back, focusing on anything else that would get me through to the next day.