Private Beneath the Endless Constellation

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo
​

I rolled the Murakami Orchid delicately between my fingers, allowing its silken petals to catch what little light filtered through the sanctuary's ancient canopy. Her observations stirred something familiar within me, not surprise, but recognition.

There was a quiet wisdom in one who understood that beauty was seldom an argument for innocence.

My lips curved into the faintest ghost of a smile as memories of House Blackwood's conservatories drifted through my thoughts; vaults where blossoms drank blood instead of rain, where perfumes concealed necrotic pollen that lulled the unwary into eternal slumber.

{They do not threaten. They invite.}

The words resonated like an old litany whispered by my ancestors beneath moonless skies.

"A perceptive truth," I whispered, my voice scarcely louder than the rustling leaves. "Predators that bare their fangs perish quickly. Those who offer comfort, wonder...or hope...feast for generations."

I regarded the orchid with newfound appreciation, not for its danger, but for the discipline required to become dangerous without ever appearing so.

Her recollections of New Cov settled over me like incense through the halls of an abandoned basilica. I listened without interruption, hearing not merely the account of a hostile world, but the confession of a soul educated by merciless nature rather than sheltered from it.

There was dignity in such an upbringing.

I slowly knelt beside her, my vampiric gaze lingering upon the untouched earth, as though searching for invisible histories written beneath its roots.

"Then your world taught you the oldest lesson of all," I said quietly. "That nature bears neither malice nor mercy, it simply is." A contemplative silence followed before I allowed myself a faint, almost wistful chuckle.

"That is why I have always found greater comfort among ancient forests, cursed gardens, and forgotten crypts than in the polished courts of civilization. Trees seldom lie. Fungi do not flatter. Poison has no ambition beyond fulfilling its purpose."

My fingers gently closed around the orchid once more. "It is people who insist upon calling something evil merely because they failed to understand the covenant required to survive beside it."

 

[Liin Terallo]

For a long while, I simply listened. The garden seemed to approve of the silence too. Leaves whispered softly overhead while unseen insects carried on conversations entirely unconcerned with politics, kingdoms, or the ambitions of those who believed themselves important.

A small smile found it's way to my face. "I understand that rather well." My eyes drifted across the winding paths between the flower beds before settling once more upon the soil beneath our feet. "I have spent several years serving in government. Long enough to learn that I was never particularly suited to it."

The little biomass creature had resumed it's exploration, carefully investigating a smooth stone before deciding it was considerably less interesting than a nearby patch of moss.

"I preferred my laboratories. They are remarkably honest places." I folded my hands loosely before me. "When an experiment fails, it tells you so. A soil sample has no political ambitions. A microscope does not exaggerate to protect it's reputation. Chemistry has never attempted to manipulate me into supporting it's agenda."

I glanced toward Mister Blackwood with a faintly apologetic smile. "I've often found that considerably easier than committees."

The humor then faded, although not entirely. "Unfortunately..." I looked out across the garden once more. "...New Cov does not liberate itself." Those words were spoken softly, yet they carried a weight that had accompanied me for years. "Our people remain hidden beneath protective domes while others govern the world above them. Until that changes, I cannot simply disappear into a laboratory and pretend that someone else will solve it." My fingers unconsciously brushed against the strap of my satchel. "So I continue speaking with governors, military leaders, nobles; anyone willing to listen." A faint sigh escaped me. "I admit that I find such conversations rather exhausting."

There had been a time when diplomacy had consumed nearly every day of my life. Endless negotiations. Endless compromises. Endless performances where sincerity was often mistaken for weakness. "I have met many remarkable people. And rather more snakes than I would have preferred."

I watched my little companion pause to inspect another blossom before carefully deciding not to touch it.

"When New Cov is finally free..." I said quietly, "...I hope my role becomes unnecessary." For the first time since entering the garden, there was something almost wistful in my voice. "I would very much like to return to simply being a scientist." My gaze settled upon the flourishing sanctuary surrounding us. "To spend my days restoring damaged ecosystems; studying biomolecules, helping worlds heal instead of negotiating over whether they're allowed to." I smiled gently. "I suspect that I was always meant to understand plants better than politicians."

My attention returned to Mister Blackwood. "Fortunately..." The corners of my mouth lifted just a little. "...plants seldom insist upon making speeches before allowing themselves to be studied."

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo​

I nodded slowly, understanding Miss Terallo's sentiment perhaps more intimately than she realized. Governments were, in my estimation, a necessary evil of the galaxy, though the word necessary was itself deserving of scrutiny.

I had watched civilizations raise banners in the name of order, justice, prosperity, and a dozen other beautiful lies, only to discover that beneath the silk and ceremony lurked the same old appetites.

"Politics and governments are a spooky thing, Miss Terallo. They are ghosts wearing crowns, monsters hiding behind legislation, and shadows that learn to speak with the voice of reason."

Yet, I would be dishonest if I claimed that every government was wicked; some possessed noble causes, even if whether those causes remained noble after passing through the hands of politicians was another matter entirely.

I allowed the faintest smile to touch my lips. "I want to show you something no mortal has ever seen, and something rarely witnessed even by those of my Bloodline and House. Come."

Without waiting for a reply, I turned and began leading her through the Blackwood Estate, my footsteps whispering across ancient stone as we passed beneath vaulted ceilings and portraits whose painted eyes seemed altogether too interested in our passage.

Eventually, we arrived before a grand entrance flanked by two Wardens of the First Hunger, their silhouettes motionless beneath the dim sconces.

I gave each Warden a solemn nod. They returned it with the reverence of statues acknowledging their master. Placing one hand against the immense door, I pushed. With a groan that seemed to come from the bones of the estate itself, the passage opened, revealing a descending staircase swallowed by darkness.

I led Miss Terallo beneath the respectable portions of the Blackwood Estate, beneath halls where servants walked, beneath chambers where guests were entertained, beneath even the foundations upon which our ancestral home had been raised.

At the bottom, the darkness opened into an immense crypt, illuminated by pale occult lamps and candles whose flames possessed an unnatural, almost sentient stillness. Elaborate tombs stood along the walls like miniature mausoleums, each carved with ancient sigils, funerary geometry, bloodline crests, and esoteric designs whose meanings had been deliberately obscured from the common galaxy.

I spread one hand toward the endless rows of stone. "These are my predecessors," I said quietly. "The family crypts. As I told you earlier, they embraced isolationism with almost religious devotion. And now, in the True Death, that is their reward."

My gaze lingered upon the tombs for a moment before I continued.

"I am not of the same thought process. I believe the old ways must change. If working with certain governments, something my predecessors would have considered beneath the dignity of House Blackwood, helps me achieve the vision's goal, then so it must be."

I gestured for Miss Terallo to wander among the crypts, to examine the elaborate architecture and occult designs for herself.

"Though I remain wary of bringing outside attention to this region," I added, my voice lowering as I watched her explore the resting places of my ancestors, "I have been forced to reconsider that position. Isolation preserved my House for generations, yes; but preservation and progress are not always companions.

Sometimes, Miss Terallo, an ancient Bloodline must open its doors before the darkness outside decides to open them for us."

 

[Liin Terallo]

For several moments, I simply stood at the foot of the staircase and looked into the darkness below. I had expected many things when Mister Blackwood invited me to see something no mortal had witnessed. A laboratory, perhaps. Some ancient artifact. Another hidden garden filled with things that required considerably more caution than their appearance suggested. But I had not expected a crypt. Yet when I followed him downward, I found myself becoming less unsettled with each step.

The air was different here. Cooler. Still. The scent of ancient stone replacing the flowers and damp earth of the garden above. When the darkness finally opened into the immense chamber beyond, I stopped for a moment. My gaze moved slowly across the rows of tombs. There was something strangely beautiful about them. Not beautiful in the same way as the garden. There was no life here. No movement. No delicate interaction between species competing and cooperating beneath the soil. But there was evidence of people who had cared deeply about preserving something. Their names. Their symbols. Their history.

I took a few slow steps forward, my attention moving from one tomb to another. "So many generations," I murmured. My fingers remained safely at my sides as I examined the intricate carvings without touching them. The funerary geometry. The crests. The deliberate placement of every symbol. Even without understanding the meanings behind all of them, I could recognize the same instinct that drove archivists, scientists, and historians everywhere. Remember us.

Mister Blackwood's explanation settled over me as I walked. "Isolation preserved your House," I repeated quietly. I considered that for a moment. "I think that I understand why." My eyes lowered toward one of the ancient tombs. "Isolation can be very appealing. When you're isolated, nobody can interfere with you. Nobody can tell you what you're supposed to be doing. Nobody examines every decision you make or demands that you justify yourself to them." A faint smile touched my lips. "You can simply exist." I looked back toward him. "I have spent years trying to accomplish the very same thing." My gaze wandered toward the darkness above us, toward the garden that waited somewhere beyond the layers of stone. "My laboratories became my refuge. They still are." I folded my hands loosely before me. "There is something comforting about being surrounded by things that cannot lie to you. Experiments fail honestly. Data remains what it is regardless of whether I like the answer." A small, almost self-conscious laugh came forth. "People are considerably more complicated."

The humor faded as I looked once more upon the tombs. "But I suppose that there is a danger in isolation too." I paused beside one of the crypts, studying the ancient symbols carved into its surface. "Eventually, isolation stops being protection and becomes a prison." Those words came out quietly. "Perhaps that is what you mean." I turned toward Mister Blackwood again. "You could remain here. Your House could continue exactly as it has for generations. You could protect what remains and ensure that nothing from the outside ever touches it. And you might preserve it perfectly. But eventually there would be nothing left to preserve except the memory of what it once was."

I glanced around the crypt again. "New Cov taught me something similar." The mention of my homeworld carried a faint ache with it. "We built our domed cities to protect ourselves from the forests. It worked. For a time. We survived because we withdrew behind barriers and learned to live separately from what wanted to consume us." My eyes lifted towards him. "But survival and living are not always the same thing."

For a moment, I simply stood there. Then I offered him a small, genuine smile. "I think that you're right to reconsider." My gaze returned to the ancient tombs. "Not because the outside world deserves access to everything your ancestors protected. But because you should be the one deciding what your House becomes next." I let that thought settle before adding, almost thoughtfully, "Opening a door doesn't mean inviting everyone inside. Sometimes it simply means reminding yourself that you are still capable of walking through it."

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo
​

I listened without interrupting, letting her words drift through the crypt like incense through the chambers of some forgotten mausoleum. There was an uncomfortable truth within them; a truth I had spent centuries refusing to name.

Isolation had indeed preserved House Blackwood, but preservation was a peculiar kind of immortality. A corpse could be preserved perfectly, its flesh embalmed and its features arranged as though sleep had merely claimed it.

Yet no one would mistake it for life.

My gaze lingered upon the ancient tombs, upon the names of my ancestors carved into stone, and I wondered how many of them had believed themselves protectors when, in truth, they had merely become wardens of their own extinction.

“Perhaps,” I began, my voice scarcely louder than the distant breathing of the earth, “we mistook silence for peace.” A thin smile touched my lips.

“And perhaps we became so devoted to keeping the world outside that we forgot there was ever meant to be a world within.”

I turned toward her then, the shadows of the crypt gathering across my features like the folds of an old funeral shroud. “You are correct about one thing,” I said quietly. “Opening a door does not oblige one to surrender the house.”

My fingers brushed the surface of an ancient sarcophagus, feeling the cold stone beneath my hand as though touching the bones of history itself. “House Blackwood has survived because we learned to close our doors before the darkness could enter. Perhaps the next generation must learn something more difficult; to open them without forgetting what lies beyond them.”

My eyes rose toward the unseen world above, toward whatever stars still burned beyond the layers of soil and stone. For the first time in an age, I did not imagine that darkness waiting beyond the threshold as an enemy.

I imagined it as an unknown. And somehow, that was far more frightening.

“I have spent centuries preserving the past,” I whispered. “Perhaps it is time I discovered whether my House possesses the courage to become something the dead could never have imagined.”

 

[Liin Terallo]

His words had struck closer to home than I expected. "Opening them without forgetting what lies beyond them."

My gaze wandered once more across the ancient tombs. There was something almost familiar in the sentiment. Not the crypt itself, of course, but the lesson buried beneath it. "I think that I understand that fear," I said softly. "The fear that if you open the door even slightly, you may not be able to close it again." I paused, my eyes settling upon one of the older sarcophagi. "New Cov made a similar mistake." The words carried considerably more weight than my earlier observations. "For generations, we protected ourselves from the rest of the Galaxy. We were isolated, but we were also independent. Eventually, we decided that isolation was no longer necessary." A faint, rueful smile touched my lips. "We opened our doors." My fingers folded loosely together. "And then we opened them too far. Trade. Diplomacy. Foreign investment. Visitors. Outside organizations. We believed that because we controlled who entered, we controlled what entered with them." My expression became thoughtful. "But influence doesn't always arrive wearing a uniform. Sometimes it arrives as an opportunity. Sometimes as an ally. Sometimes as someone offering to solve a problem that you didn't realize was becoming dangerous. And eventually, we discovered that we had allowed enough of the outside world inside that someone else could decide what happened to us."

I didn't elaborate further. He didn't need to know the precise details of how deeply I blamed myself for that. Instead, I looked back towards him. "So I don't think that the answer is complete isolation." A small smile appeared. "But I don't think that it's throwing the doors open either." I gestured faintly toward the stairway leading back toward the garden. "Perhaps you simply open them enough for someone to enter. One person. One conversation. One relationship. One idea." My eyes moved toward the ancient symbols surrounding us. "You learn what it brings with it. You decide whether it belongs. And if it doesn't..." I gave a small shrug. "...you close the door." There was something almost comforting about the simplicity of it. "A controlled exchange is very different from surrender."

I looked toward Mister Blackwood again. "I think that is what I would be most cautious about in your position. Not contact itself, but dependency." A faint crease appeared between my brows. "If your House becomes dependent upon the outside world to survive, then eventually someone else gains leverage over you. But if you remain capable of standing on your own while allowing carefully chosen people inside..." My expression softened. "Then you've gained something without surrendering what you've spent generations protecting."

I glanced once more at the tombs. "Perhaps that is the balance your ancestors never found. And perhaps the fact that you're willing to consider it now means that they didn't preserve your House merely for it to repeat their choices."

My little companion shifted quietly against my shoulder. I reached up and gave him a gentle touch. "I've learned that opening a door doesn't have to mean leaving it open forever." My gaze returned to the darkness beyond the crypt. "Sometimes it simply means having the courage to decide for yourself who is worth letting through."

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo
​

I remained silent for several moments, allowing her words to descend into the crypt like dust settling upon the dead. Dependency. The word possessed an unpleasant elegance to it, the sort of word that sounded harmless when spoken in daylight but revealed its fangs beneath the moon.

My eyes drifted toward the ancient tombs of House Blackwood, toward the stone faces of men and women who had spent centuries mistaking isolation for strength. Perhaps that had been their greatest failure; not that they had trusted too little, but that they had allowed fear to disguise itself as prudence.

I drew a slow breath, tasting the cold air of the crypt, and felt something old and unpleasant stir behind my ribs. “My ancestors believed a locked door was the same thing as an impenetrable fortress,” I said, my voice scarcely louder than the whisper of the candles. “They forgot that a fortress without gates eventually becomes a tomb.”

My gaze hardened upon the darkness. “I have no intention of allowing House Blackwood to become either.”

I looked back toward her, and for perhaps the first time that evening, the severity in my expression diminished. There was truth in what she had said, though truth has always been an ungracious guest in the halls of Blackwood. I understood then that allowing another soul beyond the threshold did not require surrendering the key to the entire estate.

Trust could be measured. Alliances could be watched. Doors could open and close according to necessity rather than inherited fear. A faint, almost humorless smile touched my lips.

“Then perhaps that is the lesson they left me,” I said, glancing once more toward the tombs. “Not to remain behind the door forever, but to remember that I am the one who holds the key.”

I placed a hand against the cold stone of the nearest sarcophagus, feeling the weight of generations beneath my palm. “Let others call it isolation. Let others call it arrogance. I will call it choice.” My eyes returned to her.

“And if I decide someone is worthy of entering the Blackwood darkness, they will enter knowing that I may still ask them to leave.”​