“Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost”
— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
A sharp car horn shattered the stillness, followed by a flurry of French, fast, heated, just under her window. Mariah didn’t react right away. She sat in front of her tablet, eyes fixed on the screen, scrolling through their scheduled stops like any of it still mattered. Her body felt fine. But her mind? It was still pacing. Dubai hadn’t broken her, but the way it was erased? That was harder to swallow. A predator’s deed, handled like a social inconvenience. She wondered how many others had been cleaned up the same way. Or how many never even got a second thought?
The horn blared again, longer this time, more desperate. The voice outside climbed, slicing through the air like a blade. Mariah had had enough. She raised her head, drawn by the tension cracking the calm surface of the warm afternoon at the elegant château-hotel “Bagnols,” located in the rarely visited Beaujolais region of France. The place was often compared to Tuscany because of its sunlit, vineyard-covered hills. Among 150 estates in the area, English owners had chosen this one and poured effort and funds into restoring its former grandeur. The building had been turned into an art museum, and only wealthy clients stayed there, receiving first-class service. Most of them had a deep appreciation for the Renaissance era and the eccentrically decorated walls, featuring frescoes inspired by that period, the lavish fabrics, and the custom-made antique beds – each a work of art – brought the hotel its fame. For Mariah, the style and atmosphere of revived aristocracy were a bit over the top, but she appreciated the effort and intention behind the idea. As for the regular visitors, some of them were quite eccentric, not only in clothing and behavior but also in their views. Apparently, Diona had been among the regular guests here, known by the surname of her last husband. He was the reason she had access to a place like this.
Later that same afternoon, the three of them – Diona, Tony, and Mariah – sat on an open balcony at one of the restaurants in Lyon, located 32 km from the château. Diona had completely changed her attitude toward her employee, as she no longer behaved like a spoiled prima donna but like a normal person. This, of course, happened only in the presence of her cousin or Tony himself; for the rest, she remained an untouchable icon, and Mariah understood well why. People’s stupidity and ignorance really could drive a thoughtful and inquisitive person crazy. The longer Diona was separated from the routine of “celebrity life,” the more educated and engaged she became. The change was happening quickly, which the other two really liked. It was clear that the foundation had been laid in her childhood, then embellished with vanity and tricks for quick wealth accumulation. Now the medallion never left her neck, and Mariah increasingly had conversations with her on various, even philosophical, topics. She also wore her own medallion, and Tony silently observed the behavior of the two relatives. He gave no sign that Mariah was more than just likable to him, but her particular way of expressing herself and behaving had infected him, too. She was like everyone, and yet… not. Striking at first glance, and even harder to forget. “Such people are the most dangerous…” Tony thought that, because they quietly get close to you and read you like an open book, they possess the power to manipulate you. They understand your secrets, learn your weak spots, and at any moment, you can lose control over yourself – and if that happens, you’re dead.” This had been drilled into his head since childhood and, up to that point, had worked perfectly.
He had had many women around and with him, but none of them were more than work, sex, or a source of information. The lack of a family, or rather, motherly love, partially defined his emotional reserve. He saw no reason now to change the well-known and comfortable model. Yet something provoked him, making him orbit around Mariah. The answer to this lay in the natural charm she possessed. According to most people, charm was behavior; according to others, physical beauty; to some, intellect. The truth lay somewhere in the middle. Mariah wasn’t a beauty, let alone a top model, but she was undoubtedly extraordinarily charming to the point of being magnetic. That was the right definition for her in Antonio’s mind. While he perceived cousin Diona more as a sexual object with the perfect model’s body, yet one who couldn’t keep a man around her for long, she lacked the playfulness of the mind, the refinement in manners, and the high linguistic culture that were difficult to reveal “at first glance” in anyone. It took time to get to know someone and understand their essence, and modern society doesn’t have such time. It rushed. That’s why almost everything happened quickly and was used only once. Even with the power of the day, today they exist, and tomorrow no one even remembers what exactly made them famous yesterday. The two women were typical representatives of two extremes, yet they apparently began to exist in symbiosis thanks to their shared genes and family upbringing. There was hope for this world if that was true. Among the wealthy and powerful, it was very important to have a family tree; it somehow proved the purity of their blood and gave them more weight and representativeness, even though “purity of blood” was out of the question, since the newborn was already a mix of its parents by the will of creation.
Antonio brought up the topic of ancestry seemingly casually, but it looked like he was more interested in why people emphasized it so much and what it meant if one didn’t have it. Mariah patiently began to explain her own truth about it:
“Ancestry is both a blessing and a curse. It is a mini-society that also functions on a pyramidal basis. There is an elder, usually the oldest family member, but at different stages in humanity’s development, this role has been shared between women and men.”
Mariah spoke so captivatingly that the other two didn’t take their eyes off her and didn’t notice how it had become time for dinner. They decided to visit the charming little place in the Floree area that had been recommended to them.
They quickly paid the bill, got into their car, and set off. Antonio was driving a silver convertible, and the two ladies sat in the back seat. The sun was setting on the horizon when Mariah asked them to stop for a minute to enjoy its soft light reflecting off the vineyards, which looked like brides covered with white mesh – a known method of protection. Mariah spread her arms and breathed in the fresh evening air. The gentle breeze carried the scent of dried herbs. Suddenly, she noticed a glint on the hill opposite. Without hesitation, she grabbed the binoculars from around Tony’s neck and pointed them toward the shimmer. As the image came into focus, her mouth dropped open…
You’re starting to feel it, right? Something about this world isn’t what it seems.
And this is only the surface.
The real story begins where comfort ends.
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