The Divergence

Lavinia pushed open the door to the hotel’s meeting room, peering inside with mild curiosity.

The room was considerably more crowded than she’d expected. 

A long conference table occupied most of the available space, surrounded by chairs filled with uniformed men and women. 

Several documents lay scattered across its polished surface, accompanied by tablets, laptops, and a large display showing what appeared to be satellite imagery.

Violetta sat near the head of the table.

Her long purple hair fell neatly over her shoulders, and her expression was composed despite the faint signs of frustration Lavinia could detect beneath it. 

Several human officers sat around her, their uniforms decorated with enough insignia that Lavinia assumed they were important.

How important, she couldn’t say.

She had never been particularly good at distinguishing military ranks.

“Lavinia,” Violetta greeted, smiling slightly. “Good morning.”

“Morning!”

Lavinia stepped inside, allowing the door to close behind her.

A few officers turned toward her. Some appeared curious, others surprised, and one man near the opposite end of the table immediately frowned.

Violetta gestured toward the assembled personnel. “These are several officers coordinating the ongoing assessment of the Third Divergence. Some are attached to Colonel Bennett’s command, while others are assisting with regional reconnaissance and logistical planning.”

Lavinia nodded politely as Violetta introduced them.

She remembered perhaps half the names.

That was probably generous.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Lavinia said. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.”

Violetta rose from her chair and gathered several photographs from the table.

“We’ve been attempting to assess the geographical changes caused by the Third Divergence. Unfortunately, our information remains limited.”

She handed Lavinia the first photograph.

“Satellite coverage is inconsistent, and drones have encountered difficulties navigating the new terrain. Nevertheless, we’ve confirmed the appearance of several enormous structures.”

Lavinia looked down.

The photograph showed a forest stretching toward the horizon, its canopy interrupted by an immense tower rising above the surrounding trees.

It was extraordinarily tall.

Even allowing for the perspective, Lavinia could tell that the structure dwarfed anything she’d seen in Oakridge.

“Some of these towers appear to exceed four hundred meters,” Violetta continued. “A few may approach a kilometer in height.”

Lavinia whistled softly.

“That’s tall.”

“Very.”

Violetta handed her another photograph.

This one depicted an enormous forest of luminous green trees, their branches spreading across tremendous distances. 

Nestled among them were pale structures connected by elevated walkways, terraces, and delicate bridges.

Some appeared to be constructed directly into the trees themselves.

Lavinia stared.

Then her lips twitched.

“Isn’t this just a stereotypical Elf palace?”

Violetta smiled faintly.

“That was my initial impression.”

“It’s pretty.”

“It is.”

Lavinia examined the photograph more closely.

The architecture was unlike anything humans had built. Tall arches, sweeping balconies, and slender towers rose among the branches, their pale surfaces catching the light filtering through the canopy.

It looked almost absurdly elegant.

“Do you think anyone lives there?” Lavinia asked.

“We don’t know. The structures appeared during the Third Divergence, but we’ve yet to establish whether they’re occupied.”

Lavinia nodded.

Before she could ask another question, someone cleared his throat.

Loudly.

Violetta turned.

A human officer near the opposite end of the table rose from his chair. He appeared to be in his late forties, with neatly trimmed dark hair and a stern expression.

“General Violetta.”

“Yes?”

“May I ask what you’re doing?”

Violetta’s smile remained unchanged.

“Showing Lavinia our reconnaissance photographs.”

“I can see that.”

The man’s expression tightened.

“What I mean is, why are you sharing classified information with a civilian?”

The room became noticeably quieter.

Lavinia blinked.

Oh.

That was probably a fair question.

She looked down at the photograph again.

Violetta, however, seemed entirely unbothered.

“Because I believe she may be able to assist us.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“No,” Violetta agreed pleasantly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

She placed her hands lightly against the table.

“I’ve likely broken several regulations by inviting her here.”

The officer stared.

Violetta spread her arms slightly.

“However, perhaps you could tell me whether your men would be willing to hike forty miles through unfamiliar forest to reach the nearest tower?”

The officer opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

“That isn’t the issue.”

“Isn’t it?”

“She’s a vampire.”

Lavinia looked up.

The man gestured toward her.

“She isn’t a member of the armed forces. She doesn’t possess the necessary clearance to be present during this briefing, much less to examine classified reconnaissance material.”

Lavinia considered that.

He wasn’t wrong.

She wasn’t human anymore.

She certainly wasn’t a soldier.

And although she’d spent much of the previous night fighting alongside human military personnel, that didn’t automatically entitle her to participate in their meetings.

Actually...

Had it really only been a few hours since the Tide?

Lavinia glanced toward the windows.

The sky outside remained dark, although the eastern horizon had begun to lighten.

So much had happened.

The Tide.

The Third Divergence.

Witches.

Elves.

The Thing in the Darkness.

It felt as though several days should have passed.

She looked back toward the officer.

She didn’t remember seeing him on the front lines.

Of course, that was probably unfair. There had been thousands of soldiers involved in Oakridge’s defense, and not every officer needed to personally fight a hundred-foot monster to contribute.

Still.

Couldn’t he have chosen a better place to raise this objection?

The other officers exchanged glances.

A few appeared uncomfortable.

Lavinia lifted one hand.

“It’s fine. I can leave.”

She turned toward the door.

“Lavinia,” Violetta said gently. “It’s fine.”

The officer’s expression darkened.

“General, with all due respect, it is not fine.”

Violetta looked toward him.

“You are knowingly violating security regulations,” he continued. “You have openly admitted as much. Sharing classified military intelligence with an unauthorized individual could be considered treason.”

Several officers began speaking at once.

“That’s going too far.”

“General Violetta has operational discretion—”

“Not unlimited discretion.”

“Can we please discuss this without making accusations?”

Violetta clapped her hands together.

The sound wasn’t particularly loud, but it immediately drew everyone’s attention.

“Gentlemen.”

The room quieted.

“If you’re willing to send your personnel forty miles through unfamiliar territory, with unknown wildlife and no guarantee that existing maps remain accurate, you’re welcome to submit that proposal.”

She glanced toward the photographs.

“However, if you have no practical alternative for investigating these structures, I believe requesting assistance from individuals capable of traversing the distance quickly is our best available option.”

The officer pushed himself fully upright.

His chair scraped against the floor.

He struck the table with his palm.

“Have you forgotten the oath you swore when you accepted your commission?”

Violetta’s expression changed slightly.

Not much.

But Lavinia noticed.

The officer continued.

“Or did you lose that along with your humanity?”

Silence.

Then the room erupted.

“That’s enough!”

“Watch your mouth!”

“General, I apologize—”

“His concerns about clearance are legitimate, but that was completely unnecessary.”

A few officers remained silent.

Their expressions were less openly hostile than the man’s, but Lavinia could see enough uncertainty in their faces to understand that his sentiment wasn’t entirely isolated.

Violetta stood motionless.

Her empty red eyes rested on the officer.

She didn’t hiss.

Didn’t growl.

Didn’t raise her voice.

That somehow made Lavinia angrier.

She stepped forward.

“Excuse me.”

The officers turned toward her.

Lavinia smiled politely.

“I don’t have a rank.”

Nobody answered.

“And I don’t have a particularly important position in your government. I’m not a soldier, and I don’t really have any authority here.”

She glanced toward Violetta.

“But.”

Her smile faded slightly.

“Violetta led us to defend a city full of humans.”

The officer frowned.

“She made sure we had blood. She coordinated with your soldiers. She spent hours making arrangements so we could actually help instead of getting in everyone’s way.”

Lavinia looked around the table.

“When the rest of us were playing around, Violetta was working.”

Violetta opened her mouth.

Lavinia continued before she could interrupt.

“When we were sleeping, she was probably working. When we woke up, there was a pretty good chance she was still working.”

“Lavinia...” Violetta murmured.

“She is always doing something.”

Lavinia turned toward the officer who’d challenged her.

“Do you think we’d be sitting here right now, arguing about how secret the Third Divergence is, if she hadn’t organized the vampires to help defend Oakridge?”

The man’s face reddened.

“That isn’t the point.”

“Isn’t it?”

“This isn’t about merit or achievements!”

Lavinia tilted her head.

“Then what is it about?”

“Regulations!”

He gestured sharply toward Violetta.

“General Violetta violated regulations governing classified intelligence. When informed of that violation, she openly dismissed the concern.”

His gaze returned to Lavinia.

“Do you believe vampires should fall outside the jurisdiction of human law?”

Lavinia’s smile disappeared.

She approached slowly.

The officer stiffened as she stopped across the table from him.

For several seconds, Lavinia simply looked at him.

Then her gaze shifted toward the window behind his shoulder.

The sky was brightening.

Dawn was approaching.

How strange.

A few hours earlier, vampires and humans had fought side by side against creatures that threatened to destroy Oakridge.

Now they were arguing about whether a vampire who had helped save the city was sufficiently human to deserve trust.

Lavinia’s empty red eyes returned to the officer.

She smiled.

Then she turned toward Violetta.

“Violetta?”

“Yes?”

“Would you get in trouble if you quit your job?”

The question caught everyone off guard.

Violetta blinked.

Then she sighed.

“Lavinia.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

Violetta regarded her with a mixture of patience and indulgence.

“If I resigned, how would I ensure that Oakridge remained safe?”

Lavinia tilted her head.

“Someone else could do it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Then?”

Before Violetta could answer, several officers spoke.

“General Violetta’s resignation would be a tremendous loss.”

“She’s been instrumental in coordinating the city’s defense.”

“Her experience is invaluable.”

“We cannot afford to lose someone with her capabilities, particularly now.”

Another officer nodded emphatically.

“She’s an excellent soldier. Whatever concerns we have about procedure, her service is beyond question.”

Lavinia’s expression brightened.

She clapped her hands.

“Oh!”

The officers looked toward her.

“Then I suppose she didn’t commit treason.”

Silence.

Several men stared at her.

One appeared to have swallowed something unpleasant.

Lavinia smiled sweetly.

“If you’re all willing to stand up for her and say she’s so important, then surely you’re also willing to vouch for her judgment?”

Nobody answered immediately.

The officer who’d challenged Violetta opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Lavinia’s smile widened.

Violetta approached and gently tapped her forehead with one finger.

“Lavinia.”

“Ow.”

“That didn’t hurt.”

“No, but I’m protesting.”

Violetta smiled despite herself.

“I appreciate you getting upset on my behalf.”

Lavinia looked up at her.

“However, I do need to maintain my position and standing. At least until the world stabilizes a little.”

Lavinia’s smile faltered.

She looked into Violetta’s empty red eyes.

What was she supposed to say?

That God had already told her coexistence was impossible?

That the world was going to collapse regardless of how hard Violetta worked?

That every hour she spent trying to preserve cooperation between humans and vampires might ultimately accomplish nothing?

Lavinia’s fingers curled against her dress.

If the warning had come from anyone else, she could have dismissed it.

A trick.

A lie.

A prediction made by someone who didn’t understand the future.

But the Thing in the Darkness wasn’t merely powerful.

She had plucked the sun from the sky and held it in her palm.

She had moved Lavinia between different worlds without effort.

She had rendered sunlight harmless to a vampire, filled the vacuum of space with breathable air, and manipulated reality as casually as Lavinia might move a piece of furniture.

Why would someone like that need to deceive her?

The Thing had probably watched countless versions of the same world develop.

Countless civilizations.

Countless conflicts.

Perhaps countless extinctions.

Maybe Lavinia hadn’t even existed in most of them.

That thought made her pause.

After all, Lavinia wasn’t the name she’d possessed as a human.

It was the name she’d awakened with after the First Divergence.

Even now, when she thought about herself, she thought of Lavinia.

Not the person she’d once been.

Lavinia.

And the Elven siblings had been the same.

Saelorian and Aeloriane.

They’d used those names barely half an hour after becoming Elves, speaking them as naturally as though they’d belonged to them since childhood.

If another world had produced different vampires, different elves, different circumstances...

Would Lavinia exist there at all?

Or would there simply be someone else?

She looked around the meeting room.

The officers had resumed speaking quietly among themselves. Some appeared sympathetic toward Violetta, while others remained guarded.

A few still looked openly displeased.

Was Lavinia being too extreme?

She didn’t know.

She watched Violetta work herself nearly constantly, trying to hold together a relationship between humans and vampires that the Thing had already warned her was likely to fail.

And it felt cruel.

Cruel to let Violetta keep trying.

Cruel to watch her exhaust herself pursuing something that might never exist.

Of course, Lavinia could imagine the opposite argument.

Perhaps she was the one interfering.

Perhaps she was making it harder for Violetta to find peace by stepping away from the military.

She certainly hadn’t improved Violetta’s standing by openly challenging a human officer in front of his colleagues.

But what else was she supposed to do?

Stand there?

Smile?

Watch someone she cared about be insulted for becoming a vampire?

“Lavinia.”

Violetta’s voice reached her ears.

It was extremely quiet.

Far below the range of human hearing.

Lavinia looked up.

“Did you speak with God again?”

Lavinia exhaled.

“Was it that obvious?” she whispered back.

Violetta’s expression softened.

“A little.”

Lavinia glanced toward the officers.

Then back at Violetta.

“She doesn’t think coexistence is possible.”

Violetta listened.

“She said—”

A cool hand settled atop Lavinia’s head.

Lavinia stopped.

Violetta smiled.

Then she spoke at an ordinary volume.

“Trying my best is also something I do for myself.”

Lavinia blinked.

Violetta gently stroked her golden hair.

“If everything falls apart despite my efforts, then at least I’ll know I genuinely tried.”

Her smile remained calm.

“I’ll be able to say that proudly.”

Lavinia stared at her.

Violetta continued.

“I don’t want to look back someday and wonder whether things might have been different if I’d done a little more.”

For several seconds, Lavinia couldn’t think of anything to say.

Then she smiled bitterly.

That was so like Violetta.

Lavinia had never been particularly enthusiastic about attempting impossible things.

If something was genuinely impossible, why waste the effort?

There were better things to do.

More enjoyable things.

Things that actually had a chance of succeeding.

That attitude had served her reasonably well.

It also had a tendency to box her in.

She didn’t want to arrive at the future she’d witnessed.

The future where human lives were measured in blood taxes, where vampires ruled territories like feudal nobility, and where the deaths of entire populations could be discussed with casual indifference.

But she didn’t want Violetta to waste her time either.

Waste her time?

Lavinia frowned.

She slowly turned away from Violetta.

Why had she thought that?

Why had trying to preserve peace suddenly become a waste of time?

Hadn’t she wanted coexistence more than anything?

Hadn’t she told herself, repeatedly, that she wanted humans and supernatural species to share the world?

And now...

Now she was practically throwing that desire away because someone had insulted Violetta?

The officers watched her turn.

One frowned.

Another whispered something to his neighbor.

“Is she all right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did she just forget where she was?”

Lavinia barely heard them.

Her thoughts had become tangled.

She remembered the battlefield.

Ash stretching toward the horizon.

Tattered black dresses scattered across the ground.

The sickening scent of countless vampires reduced to nothing.

Then the warehouse.

The cylinders.

The tubes.

The endless extraction of blood from women who couldn’t escape and couldn’t die.

Lavinia’s hands trembled.

Was that why?

Was seeing those vampires suffer what had changed her?

She hadn’t known any of them.

Not a single one.

They hadn’t belonged to her group.

They hadn’t been her friends.

They hadn’t even existed in the same world.

Yet she’d felt grief so intense that she’d wanted to scream.

To lash out.

To destroy the machinery.

To tear apart whoever had put them there.

Why?

Was it simply because she was a vampire?

Because vampires cared so intensely for one another that seeing another vampire suffer could alter the way they thought?

She knew that the affection wasn’t ordinary.

She’d understood that much since the First Divergence.

Vampires were drawn toward one another.

They enjoyed one another’s company.

They could argue, tease, compete and become irritated, but the underlying affection remained.

Even unfamiliar vampires felt strangely familiar.

But she’d never considered how that might affect her judgment.

If she witnessed a human suffering, she could feel sympathy.

If she witnessed a vampire suffering...

The feeling was different.

Immediate.

Personal.

Almost unbearable.

Was that enough to make her abandon everything she’d believed?

Lavinia pressed her lips together.

And why had the Thing shown her those futures in the first place?

If she hadn’t seen the battlefield, couldn’t she have continued believing in coexistence?

If she hadn’t seen the warehouse, couldn’t she have continued trusting that humans and vampires might eventually find some arrangement that benefited everyone?

Why show her those particular worlds?

Why make her feel that grief?

What was the point?

There were other Royal Vampires.

Other leaders.

Other people whose decisions might shape the future.

Why her?

Lavinia looked toward the meeting room door.

Her pointed ears twitched.

For one ridiculous moment, she wished time would simply stop.

That the officers would freeze.

That the world would become silent.

And that the Thing in the Darkness would appear so Lavinia could ask her.

Why?

Why show her those things?

Why warn her that coexistence was impossible, then leave her surrounded by people trying to make it work?

Why give her a wish and tell her she’d know when to use it, without explaining what she was supposed to accomplish?

Time continued flowing.

An officer shifted in his chair.

Someone turned a page.

A quiet conversation resumed near the opposite end of the table.

Nothing happened.

Lavinia exhaled.

Perhaps this was why stories involving gods and mortals so often kept them apart.

If a god could answer every question, people would never stop asking.

Why?

Why?

Why?

And even if they received an answer, there would always be another question waiting behind it.

Two hands settled gently upon Lavinia’s shoulders.

She blinked.

Violetta stood behind her.

“Lavinia?”

The golden-haired vampire looked up.

“Are you all right?”

Lavinia hesitated.

Then nodded.

“Yeah.”

Violetta studied her.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

Lavinia forced a smile.

“Just thinking a little.”

Violetta didn’t appear entirely convinced.

Lavinia stepped backward.

“I think I’ll head back to my room.”

“All right.”

Violetta gave her a slight smile.

“Get some rest. Dawn is nearly here.”

Lavinia nodded.

“Don’t work too hard.”

Violetta laughed softly.

“I’ll try.”

Lavinia gave her one last look.

Then she turned toward the door.

The officers watched her leave, although none attempted to stop her. The man who’d challenged Violetta remained standing beside his chair, his expression difficult to read.

Lavinia didn’t look back.

She pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway.

It closed quietly behind her.

For several seconds, she stood motionless.

Then she leaned her head backward and stared at the ceiling.

A long exhale escaped her lips.

The hallway was empty.

The hotel remained quiet at this hour, most of its guests either asleep or preparing for the approaching morning. Somewhere beyond the windows, birds had begun calling.

Lavinia turned toward the stairwell.

Her shoes tapped softly against the floor as she walked.

Was she giving up too soon?

She’d barely begun trying to understand what coexistence might look like.

The First Divergence hadn’t occurred that long ago.

The Second had followed.

Now the Third had introduced Witches and Elves.

Everything was changing so quickly that humans and supernatural species had scarcely been given time to understand themselves, much less one another.

Perhaps there was still hope.

Perhaps they could find some way to share the world.

Perhaps the Thing was wrong.

Or perhaps the Thing was right, and all Lavinia would accomplish by believing otherwise was making the eventual collapse more devastating.

She pushed open the stairwell door.

The space beyond was dimly illuminated, with concrete steps descending around a central shaft.

Lavinia stepped inside.

Her hand brushed against the railing.

She could choose to believe in coexistence.

She could cling to that hope.

But what would happen when the first serious conflict began?

When vampires died?

When humans died?

When Witches or Elves or werewolves decided that protecting their own people mattered more than maintaining peace?

What would happen when the people she’d spent years trying to understand became the people she had to fight?

The thought made her stomach twist.

Perhaps it would be easier not to hope.

If she expected the world to collapse, then she could prepare.

She could gather vampires.

Protect the people she loved.

Build something strong enough to survive whatever came.

And when conflict finally arrived, she wouldn’t have to endure the shock of watching everything she’d believed in fall apart.

Lavinia stopped on the stairs.

Her fingers tightened around the railing.

That was a terrifying way to think.

Because if she stopped believing coexistence was possible, she might stop trying to preserve it.

And if she stopped trying, perhaps others would too.

A vampire who expected humans to become enemies might begin treating them like enemies before they’d done anything wrong.

Humans who saw that behavior might respond with fear.

Fear could become hostility.

Hostility could become violence.

And violence...

Lavinia remembered the future.

The castles.

The human pens.

The blood taxes.

The casual cruelty.

She’d told herself that future was something she wanted to prevent.

But if she continued thinking this way, perhaps she’d simply walk toward it.

Not because the Thing forced her.

Not because humanity inevitably betrayed her.

But because she’d decided the outcome was unavoidable and begun making choices that ensured it.

Lavinia stared down the stairwell.

For a moment, she imagined herself five years from now.

Sitting upon a throne.

Surrounded by vampires.

Millions of humans living beneath her authority.

Her companions laughing together while the suffering beyond the castle walls became nothing more than an administrative inconvenience.

She could almost understand how that Lavinia had come to exist.

That frightened her more than the image itself.

Because she didn’t need to become someone entirely different to reach that future.

She only needed to keep making choices that seemed reasonable at the time.

One after another.

Until the future she’d once merely glimpsed became the world she actually inhabited.

Lavinia loosened her grip on the railing.

She looked toward the stairwell window.

Beyond it, the first pale light of dawn was beginning to spread across Oakridge.

She stepped away from the window and continued downstairs, her expression thoughtful.