You open your eyes. You’re in Tanis, in the small room you call your own. The sun is shining bright outside your window. Birds sing and insects trill. You hear two light knocks on your door. A mild grunt informs you that breakfast is ready. Despite how warm your bed is, you can still remember the cold nights of your childhood. Even after all these years, those memories never leave, they just get buried under decades of much happier, much warmer memories. But never forgotten. The knock comes again, a mildly questioning grunt. “I’m up!” you groggily call out, and the heavy footsteps moving away are the only answer you need. You smile. It’s the little things.
You close your eyes. You’re deep in the catacombs, returning after weeks of work. The vaulted arches silently greet you in the same way they always do: the flames in the sockets of their skulls flickering purple. You smile. It’s the little things.
You open your eyes. Goro and Flora are already at the table. “Mornin’,” Goro grunts between bites. Not just Goro. Dad. Flora smiles as you take your seat, a plate piled high with food already steaming and waiting for you. Mom. “You got home so late last night that you never told us how the interview went!” she says to you, clearly expecting good news. You grimace even through the delicious food you’re chewing. After a quick swallow, you answer, “That dickhead from Sakkara got the job over me.” Not even Goro’s glare can halt the venom dripping from your words, and yet somehow Flora manages to make it all melt away. Smiling, she puts a hand on yours and says, “That’s alright, sweetheart. No matter what happens, you’ll always have us at home waiting for you.” Home. More than anything else, that’s what this feels like to you.
You close your eyes. Sighing, you plop down onto your bed, not even bothering to take off your bag. Some days you hardly notice the strain of your labor, but today isn’t one of those days. Before you can even begin to wallow in self-pity, however, your familiar leaps onto your chest, grinning his tusky grin. You can’t help but smile back as you stroke his gently glowing orange underbelly. You sigh again, this time not from fatigue but from contentment. Home. More than anything else, that’s what this feels like to you.
You open your eyes. You’re in Tanis. The sun is shining outside your window. The birds are singing. You hear a knock on your door. A grunt from the other side. Your bed is warm but you can never forget the cold. The knock comes again, more insistent. “I’m here,” You answer. The footsteps accept your answer and trudge away. You smile. It’s the little things.
You close your eyes. Your familiar rests his head on his arms as you stand at your desk, unpacking your bag. A good haul, by most anyone’s measure, but your master still won’t be pleased. Insatiable, he is. Wordlessly, your familiar huffs in agreement. The edges of your lips curl into a smile. It’s the little things.
You open your eyes. Mom and Dad are already at the table. Dad grunts at you and Mom nods as you take your seat. “You were late last night,” Mom says to you. You look up at her. “The… The guy from Sakkara…?” You answer hesitantly. Dad glares at you. Suddenly your Mom smiles wide. “That’s alright, sweetheart. We’re always waiting for you.” Home. That’s what this feels like to you.
You close your eyes. You stand fifty feet away, observing the hut before you. The partially-collapsed roof has been replaced with a few ramshackle planks of wood. By anyone’s standards, it would barely even qualify as a “patch,” but it does its job. It keeps them out. Keeps us out. Under the doorway, you can see the faint flickering of light, the telltale sign of a hearth. A home. That’s what this is.
You open your eyes. Tanis. The sun is low, orange-red light streaming in through your window. Cicadas and a hundred other insects out in the forest buzz and hum, droning. A strong knock on your door. A long, quiet moan. Someone is there. You can’t forget how cold you feel. The door rattles from the force of the second blow. Before you can stop it, a whimper escapes from your lips. “W..he….r.e….” the voice moans. It’s the little things.
You close your eyes. Stepping forward, you bump into a hulking creature you hadn’t noticed before. It instinctively growls and whips its head down to you, but after a cursory sniff it exhales and continues its aimless trudging. The creatures of the night ignore you, so long as you don’t mess with them. Well… mess with them too much. You smile a bit as you recall the few times you’ve messed with them, poking and prodding just enough to elicit a reaction. Your familiar enjoys those brash, meaningless actions. You walk to the front door of the hut, and politely knock three times. It’s the little things.
You open your eyes. Two figures sit at the table, beckoning you. Mom? Dad? You hesitantly sit down. They seem pleased. “You’re late,” the figure on your left says. The figure on your right grunts in agreement. You’re too afraid to answer. They glare at you. The mother on the left grins wide. Too wide. “We’re waiting for you, sweetheart,” she says. This… What does this feel like?
You close your eyes. The seven crystals are arrayed before the master, but too late you notice the crack in one of them. A faint flaw, all but imperceptible to anyone but a master of the craft. The retribution is swift and terrible. You feel your bones snapping and crumbling as the magic grips and raises you into the air, his voice tearing into you with a pain far outclassing any arcane might he possesses. This is your home.
You open your eyes. It is dark and silent. Your door shakes as a powerful blunt force strikes it. Someone. Is. There. It’s so cold. Where are you? A fist punches a hole through the door. It’s bones, only bones.
“WHERE. . .ARE. . .YOU. . .”
It growls. You can’t move. Not even the little things.
You close your eyes. She’s breathing hard as she runs, your hand gripped tightly in hers as she pulls you along. You run alongside her, not even sure why. The two of you round a corner and she throws herself against the wall, chest heaving as she lowers herself to the ground. A momentary break, to catch her breath before continuing. She looks up at you. You sense the faintest bit of fear but… much more than that, you see the joy in her eyes. The smile on her face. You tilt your head, just the tiniest motion, but somehow that breaks her. A tear rolls down her cheek, catching dust and dirt as it travels across her almond skin. Without thinking, you lift a finger to catch it, and she raises her hand to catch yours just as quick. Almost like a dance that neither of you realized you were doing. Instincts. The little things.
You open your eyes. Three seats at a table. The closest is empty. The other two seat skeletons, whose skulls creak as they turn slowly to you. You must sit. You can’t stop yourself. The figure on your left opens her mouth.
“YOU ARE LATE...FAR TOO LATE...”
His voice calls out to you. The figure on your right opens his mouth as well.
“UNACCEPTABLE”
His voice says. You’re shaking all over. What does he want?
“WHERE ARE YOU”
His voice answers, in unison from both figures. In every fiber of your being you resist answering. He is displeased.
“RETURN TO US”
He says from their mouths. Home?
You close your eyes.
The Empty Man
You open your eyes. Foggy. Everything's covered in a haze. Somehow it's outside but within you as well. People shuffle through the streets in the day, like they know they need to be doing something but they're not sure what. As the sun goes down, they wander into their houses and huddle together where it's safe. Everyone's... confused. Everyone except you.
You close your eyes. You walk beneath the vaulted arches, their slight flickering purple glow lighting your way. No smiles today. The master has summoned you.
You open your eyes. You sneak into houses at night, hiding in dark corners and stealing what few seconds of sleep you can manage between the hideous green lights flashing from outside. In the days, you swipe the scraps that they mindlessly leave behind and gnaw at whatever you can find. Most people ignore you even if they see you, but you hide from them all the same. For some reason, it feels like the right thing to do, so you do it.
You close your eyes. You can't ignore a summons. You dread His presence, the cold dead air of His chamber. He only sends for you when you're in trouble. When He has something to punish you for. As you reach the darkest depths of the catacombs, you place your hand on the sigil key. The great stone doors open, your cloak whipping at your sides as the air is sucked into the great chamber before you.
You open your eyes. You were right to fear them. They catch you off guard, wrapping you in ropes and throwing a sack over your head. You kick and scream and bite at them, but you can't escape reality; a child simply stands no chance against three adult men. Though you'd never show it willingly, the sack successfully hides the fear as it creeps under your skin. What are they going to do with you? To you?
You close your eyes. You step forward into the room slowly. You can't see Him in the pitch darkness, but you know He's there. Down the rings you step, further into the abyss, until you reach the center. There He is.
You open your eyes. You hear them chattering. They sound more lucid than the others, but only just slightly. They're confused. Why are we nabbing this kid? They argue. Something about pay, but they disagree on whether it's worth it. You take the chance while it is offered. You twist your torso and lower your wrists until your arm is between your thighs. Grip, and snap. The scream of pain is thankfully muffled by the gag. You slip from your bonds and limp away, tears stinging at your eyes. You're not worried about the arm. You're confident it will heal. Something about the process still being fresh... You don't even remember running away, you just find yourself on the ground leaning up against a low wall. You hear a grunt from above you. Looking up, you see a gruff face, squinting at you and holding out a piece of bread...
You close your eyes. Eyeless sockets watch your every move, taste your every thought, gnawing at the edges of your tarnished soul. You kneel, lowering your head in deference. Fingers that haven't moved in ten thousand years grip your skull, twelve points of contact as your gaze is lifted.
WHOM DO YOU SERVE
His voice throbs through your mind, pain reverberating alongside it. You, my Master.
WHY
You wince. Because you created me, Master. I am a tool you wield.
WHERE IS THE OTHER
A flash of fear that you swiftly bury. I do not know, Master.
WHERE IS THE OTHER TELMIRINE
I don't know! Panic flows through you.
YOUR FAILURES ONLY COMPOUND, RAZMIRI
WHY SHOULD WE KEEP YOU
If you could cry, you would. Because... Because I can do better.
Soundlessly, the chamber begins to hum, psychal energies flooding from the entity that owns you.
Because... I can find it! I swear to you, Master! I can bring you The Two That Are One!
The humming stops. The pain stops. You are lowered back to the ground, no longer forced to witness His terrible visage up close. You kneel again, lowering your head deeply and shuddering with fear. As you turn and walk away, His horrific voice sounds once again, searing through your mind like a blade.
BRING HER TO US
You pause, then nod shortly and continue walking. Once again, the Empty Man grows silent. You pray that His slumber lasts longer this time.
The Telmirine
You open your eyes. You're not sure why you're running, but you do it anyway. She's barely a step ahead of you, guiding you as you sprint. But where? A detached sort of bemusement fills you. She can't escape The Empty Man. No one can. But, for whatever reason, she makes you want to try anyway. So you run, and you run, and you run. You can hear her breathing get heavier and heavier. She can't keep running much longer. You reach out and tug her cloak, just enough to get her attention. As the two of you slide to a stop, she turns and grabs onto you. At first you think it's a hug, but between her heaving, she's shaking. You realize that she can barely stand, and so you hold her up. Hold her tight. She puts her chin on your shoulder and whispers, "I can't lose you again, Raz. I can't." Her breath is warmer than you thought it would be.
You close your eyes. His instructions were clear. Range far and wide, searching for the Telmirine. If you find her, activate your artifact. He would come for you, He would find you, and He would reward you. No need to try and fight it or subdue it, just stay near it and The Empty Man would do the rest. Simple.
You open your eyes. You're hiding in a hole. You marvel to yourself for a moment at the lunacy of the situation, but it's true. This is nothing more than a hole that you and her have stuffed yourselves into, to try and outlast the night. She's lucky that you don't take up all that much space. But, then again, she's unlucky too. If you were by yourself, you wouldn't need a hole. She seems uncomfortable. You try to adjust but she squirms and lets out a little whine. "Please... don't." She whispers. You're sorry. She's more uncomfortable now than she was before. You're face-to-face in this tiny hole in the ground, but she's doing everything she can not to look at you. For some reason, it makes you want to cry.
You close your eyes. You couldn't believe your luck. After all those years of searching, the Telmirine found you. She was prettier than you'd expected, and more forceful. She insisted on the two of you running away together. You were happy to oblige.
You open your eyes. She's holding your hand as you walk. It makes you want to smile. Even in the light of the sun, she feels warm. You appreciate this much more relaxed pace quite a bit; even though the running didn't much bother you, it clearly bothered her, and you're glad for her to not feel that way. Plus, He'll find you both anyway. No sense in running if you don't have to. She points ahead, and you look up. In the distance you see something glittering, poking up into the sky. Weird. You've never seen something glitter before.
You close your eyes. You can sense your familiar wishes to speak. Wants to tell you to be careful, to consider your options. Unusual, but irrelevant. You dismiss his supposed warnings.
You open your eyes. As you get closer, you recognize it. Probably not this one specifically, but things like it. A tower of crystal glass. You always hated these in the past. It's a lot harder to get inside when they can see you on the other side of the door. Still, in the daylight, it's actually a bit nicer. The glittering makes you happy. You might have to come back here later, if your master lets you.
You close your eyes. Your familiar urges you again. Now you're annoyed. You told him to drop it, and he hasn't. You carefully explain that there's no reason to 'consider your options,' and even if you did, what options are there? The master created you. He's everything you are and everything you can be. He gave you everything you have, and He can take it away as he pleases. Your familiar corrects you. He didn't give me to you.
You open your eyes. She's gripping your hand tight as you enter. There's people here, almost a dozen. They gasp and scream and cry as they witness you, but she holds up a hand and calms them as her other sweats. You make a note. You'll be back for them later. A good haul, you think. She leads you up, up, up the stairs. She's huffing again by the time you get to the top. You note how inefficient it is to breathe. The two of you climb up a ladder through a hatch, into the upper room of the tower. She jogs over and begins muttering something as she waves her hand, and the crystal array in the center begins glowing. She turns back to you and gestures you closer. You oblige. He should be here soon.
You close your eyes. You consider killing your familiar. Perhaps he's been alive too long. He's starting to get ideas above his station. He chuckles. You couldn't kill him if you tried.
You open your eyes. She shows you things in the light. The Diviner, she calls it. She shows you a tall, skinny elf with fiery red hair. Purple eyes. She shows you a stout stubby woman, a dwarf. Purple eyes. A giant spider. Purple eyes. An orc. Purple eyes. And then you see yourself. 206 perfect bones, arranged in the perfect order with perfect precision. Just like you always do when you wake up. And in the sockets of your skull, two glowing orbs. Purple eyes. You feel... lightheaded. You stumble back, but she catches you. Holds you. Interlaces her fingers with yours with perfect practiced precision, her warm skin against your cold lifeless bones. You look up at her. You don't want Him to find you anymore. You want to stay with Her. She's smiling, somehow sad and happy, as tears form in her eyes. Her purple eyes.
You close your eyes.
A Sign
My dreams are messy, choppy, like the dark waters of a storm. Flashes, songs, pushing through the shadows like a lifeline.
I'm in a field of wheat, blowing in the august wind. The spikes sizzle and crackle against each other, almost like rain in the night.
LET ME IN
I close my eyes.
I'm standing in front of a farmhouse, its still-smoking husk whistling in the wind. I was here just two days ago with her, and now it's gone. The mark on the doorframe is still intact, a meditating figure before a series of triangles.
GIVE ME A SIGN
I close my eyes.
I'm sitting at the banks of the river, the burning incandescent orange of sunset rolling across the water like magma. I see my own reflection in the water, smiling in contentment. I was having a picnic.
COME TO ME
I close my eyes.
My Best Friend
I met my best friend when we were little kids. At first I thought she was scary, but eventually I realized she was just scared. So I went and talked to her. She was nice. She took me to her house, and I met her parents. Her dad looked scary, but he was secretly nice. Her mom looked nice, but she was secretly scary. I showed her my tree. She asked if it was my parents, but I told her no. I didn't have any parents.
We found a hawk laying on the ground. Both its wings were broken. I told her it was dying, and she said we had to help it. Together, we made splints for its wings. She tied them together, and we fed the bird every day for two months until it was healed and it flew away. We never saw it again, but that's okay. We weren't trying to make a pet. We just wanted to help.
I felt so lonely when she went to Sakkara for school. She said she didn't want to be a lopper, she wanted to be a merchant in Damanhur. I didn't want her to go, but I wanted her to be happy. So I helped her with her entrance exams, I helped her pack, and I waved to her when she got on the barge. I was so sad, and I hated that feeling. I never felt like that before and I didn't like it. Laren checked in on me every week, but it didn't help. But then.... then I met her.
Katrina. A light in my darkness. When Razmi smiled at me, it was like the comforting warmth of a fire. When Katrina smiled at me... It was like I was weightless. Like the fundamental forces of nature withered under her gaze and gave me up to her freely, and I welcomed it. I'd never felt sadness like I did when Razmi left, but I'd never felt happiness like I did when Katrina came to call on me. She saw me, in a way Razmi never did.
And when Razmi came home, I felt guilty. I hadn't intended to replace her. I hadn't wanted her replaced. But sometimes what you wanted to do and what you actually do aren't the same thing. So I told Katrina that I needed space from her. She seemed really upset, but I couldn't quite understand why. I welcomed Razmi back and things went back to normal.
Then Razmi got an invitation to the capital. She said she didn't know what it was about, but she didn't think she was in any trouble. So I waved to her as she got on the barge, expecting her to come home soon. And in a sense, she did. Barely a week later, the Founding March started, and I saw her walking with the Prince. She had been Chosen! I kept trying to get to her, but she was sitting at the main table, just drinking and chatting away. I saw her talking to Goro, and then to Smitty, and each time I tried to get close, she moved away. It was like she didn't see me.
I told myself it was all in my head. She wouldn't have forgotten me. A week passed. Two weeks. A month. Two months. No letter. No visits, at least not to me. I heard that she came to town to see her parents, but no mention of me.
It... hurt. It wasn't like the sadness when she left for Sakkara. That was... long, warm and fuzzy and sweet. This was sharp, and cold. Anger. She didn't leave Tanis. She left me. She didn't care about me anymore.
But the anger faded just as quickly as it arrived, and it left a hole in me. She was my best friend. Even if I wasn't hers anymore, I still couldn't hate her. I don't even remember asking for Katrina, but there she was, her arms wrapped around me. The cold went away. I felt like I was floating again.
Katrina introduced me to her friends. They were so kind to me. They taught me that sometimes it's okay to feel empty, because there's always someone to fill your heart back up with love. That's what Katrina said. She said she loved me, and when she said it, I wasn't an empty man anymore, I was full. She filled me up with love, and she told me there were others who were empty. All I had to do was find them, and then they wouldn't be empty anymore.
So I went to Sakkara. I spoke with a farmer, whose crops struggled to grow in the desert heat and couldn't get any help from House Draeche because he couldn't afford it. I introduced him to the Society, and he was filled with love. I spoke with a sailor from Mersa Miniya, who was barred from the Mistwatch because he was too reckless. I introduced him to the Society, and he was filled with love.
Katrina told me about a group of researchers from Abydos. She said they were empty, so I went out to greet them. They were so kind, and I helped them put together their crane. They were incredibly thankful. And then, when the time was right,
I LOCKED THEM IN A HOLE TO DIE. ONE REMAINED OUTSIDE, SO I TOOK MY KNIFE AND I CARVED HIM OPEN AND EMPTIED HIM OUT TO MAKE ROOM FOR MYSELF.
They were just so nice. And when I went home, Marc told me that Razmi had been asking after me. After almost seven months, I'd almost forgotten about her. I had Katrina now, but that doesn't mean there can't be room in my life for Razmi. I can make room. So I told Marc to let her know that I'd love to see her.
After all, she's my best friend. Why shouldn't she be filled with love, too?
The First Kiss
Our first kiss. Some times the thought of it fades away, hiding deep within until it's nothing more than the edge of a whisper of a thought. Other times I remember it like it was yesterday, thudding and burning and thrumming in my chest.
We were still just kids then. At the time, we thought we were so mature, so grown up and brave and smart, but time adds a lot of perspective. Just dumb kids, even then.
I don't remember first meeting you. I know I had a life before you, but it's like... it didn't matter. I was born the moment you were, even if I was three years older. You know, I don't even remember our parents? It was just you and me, against the world from the jump.
Not a damn one of them cared about us. As I've gotten older, I've come to realize how deeply tragic that is. Not even for us, but for them. What does it take for a person, for everyone, to be so entirely lost within themselves that they'd look at two orphan girls starving in the sand and not even stop to question why? I would never do that, not in a million years, and yet almost three hundred people in our village did it every day for over a decade and a half. Ridiculous.
I pretended like I didn't care, like you were the only thing that mattered to me and everything and everyone else could fuck off. It was rooted in truth, of course, but it wasn't true. I did care about the looks they gave us, and the ones they didn't. I cared about how fucking. hard it was just to keep you fed, to keep you breathing and smiling and loved and gods but a part of me hated it. I loved you, I loved you so much, I loved you more than I loved breathing, but I hated you too. I hated you for how much I loved you, I hated you for how you were my entire world, I hated you for being the only reason I woke up.
That's why I left. Because even though I loved you, I hated you and I hated myself for it. I couldn't keep choking down the knots in my stomach when you asked me what the plan was, I couldn't keep suffocating because all I wanted to breathe was you, couldn't keep drowning to keep you above the water. I told myself that twelve years old is plenty enough to take care of yourself, that I'd been taking care of both of us since I was four, but the truth is that I choked down that lie every night all the same. I suffocated myself because I couldn't be there with you. I drowned in my own tears for no reason.
Two years seems so.... infinitesimal now, but then it was an eternity. I traveled the seven sands. I got jobs, I learned to sail and fight and be a woman all on my own. I ate well, even. But at the end of it all, I couldn't take it any more. Every sip of wine was dust, every bite of fruit was sand, and every breath was a dagger in my chest. So I came back to you. I came back to that shitty little village in that shitty little valley because at least you were there.
What horrendous luck we had. Born in such a shit place to such shit parents and surrounded by shit neighbors. I walked to the edge of that shit village and barely had the chance to swallow the rock in my throat before I was flung to the ground by the pressure wave, tossed probably a dozen yards away by the explosion. Could barely even hear the screams of agony and terror over the ringing in my ears. I dragged myself through the sand, through the blood and the gore, screaming your name. Couldn't feel my legs, didn't know if I had any at that point. Finally, I found you, on your back and breathless as you stared up at it.
What horrendous luck. The day I came home to you, a monster fell from the sky.
Even now, I don't think I can accurately describe it. It was.... formless, but also form....ful? Like it knew what it needed to be but it couldn't fit that entire shape into three dimensions. Crimson and black, pulsing red like magma as it barked and howled and chirped like metal clanging on metal. I don't know what it had done to the others who lived there, but something about you was different. Even it knew that. It slowly arced over you, like it was taking you in for all you were. Making sure before it finished the job.
It wasn't even a conscious thought. You don't think about taking that deep, gasping, choking breath as you come up out of the water. You just need it, and it happens. I needed you to live, so I did the only thing I could and jumped in front of it. Better me than you, I thought, as that lance of death pierced my heart.
I turned to try and look at you one last time. Saw the tears in your eyes, the curl of a smile on your lips as blood gurgled out of them. It pierced right through me, right through you. Probably several feet into the sand, too.
Stupid. So stupid.
I reached my hand back to try and touch you, and your fingers met mine in the air between us. I'd rather die with you than live without you, I thought to myself. At least I could breathe you in one last time. For the first time in our short lives, our hearts were connected in physical space the same way that we'd always felt. Unfortunately, that "physical connection" was a pulsating spike of... something. We breathed our last, fingers entwined, as that beast from beyond bridged the gap between us.
That was the first time we shared the kiss of death. It certainly wasn't the last.
His Knife In My Heart
He's everything to me, and he has been from the instant I laid eyes on him. People have always given me shit, either to my face or behind my back, about our relationship. "Can't believe Renmara'd fall for an elf, and an orphan commoner at that!" They'd say. Fuck 'em all. So high on sucking each other's asses all the time, they never even knew that I was an orphan once too; Mom just plucked me off the streets one day and that was that, Dad knew he could never change her mind about something so he never tried. I had the best of both worlds, I guess: the wealth and comfort of nobility, but the honesty and humility of the common folk. I've never cared where Tolmir was from, how much money he had or how educated he was. When we lay in each other's arms, our breath the only thing keeping time, and when we're dead and gone a thousand years from now, it's the same. Doesn't matter where we came from, just where we are. Who we are.
And where we are is... well, it's pretty nice. We've got two of the cushiest jobs in Ardran, if I may say so myself. Handmaiden to the King in Red and manservant to the Violet Queen. We're a hell of a dynamic duo, let me tell you. Oh buddy my so-called "friends" were so horrified when I got the job. "A lady has no place doing housework like some.... some servant!" they'd yell, practically slavering at the mouth at the drama. "Handmaiden, to the king?!? She must simply be his little whore, to be discarded as he please!" Idiots. King Doryan wasn't like that in the slightest, more of a history nerd who happened to be king than the apparent rapist they expected him to be. And Altamira- sorry, Queen Altamira was so sweet, a deeply spiritual woman. When Doryan took me on as his handmaiden, she insisted that Tolmir become her manservant, saying that she could "sense" the "transcendant connection" between us and that it would be a crime to have us work anywhere but at each other's sides.
Tolmir would always put on some big stuffy face whenever I tried to teach him how to read, saying "I don't need to read, anything I might want to read I'd rather hear from you." But when Altamira insisted, he complied, and pretty soon the four of us would spend entire days (or at least, as much as we could steal away from the siblings' royal duties) lounging in the study, reading and just enjoying each other's company. I'd always been an only child, so I sort of expected siblings to be all angry and hateful at each other like I read in the stories, but Doryan and Altamira were best friends. Hard not to be, I guess, if you've gotta rule a kingdom together...
Why am I thinking about all of this? Why is everything so disjointed?
My thoughts continue jumping from beat to beat. I guess they don't really care to acknowledge my questions. Tolmir asked me a few times about some old, old pieces. From the old kingdom, so they're real messy. Says he wants to help Altamira understand, find the answer to some deep philosophical question she's been struggling with. That's my man. So thoughtful and caring.
I take him through the deepest archives, ones that most don't have any access to. Perks of having the royal seals on hand. I show him the faded texts, talking up something called Nexos. Maybe a city, or a person, or even an old god. No way to know for sure, unfortunately. It's easy to keep something safe for a year, or even a hundred years, but over thousands and thousands of years there are some accidents that are bound to happen, and sometimes information is lost no matter how hard we try. He's so happy that I found what he was looking for, he nearly laid me down on the spot (too dusty, no way I'm doin it here my guy). On the way out, I grab the original copy of Doryan's favorite historical legend. He'll be real happy to give it another read.
I see... Tolmir. Why are you crying, aroha? He's panting, terrified, a wild look in his eyes as a wail escapes his lips. Weird. I give Doryan The Second Impact. I always thought it was kind of sweet that his favorite story was about a pair of siblings who ruled the nation, and kind of deeply, fundamentally worrying that it's a story about how one turned on the other and drove the kingdom apart. But he insists otherwise, says I'm looking at it too literally and not understanding the story. "The meaning," he painstakingly describes for the umpteenth time, "is not found in the betrayal, but in the forgiveness, in the redemption!!" I roll my eyes, Altamira rolls her eyes, but we're all smiling as he tells me the plot, again. About how the evil king is saved by his sister queen, how she shows him the error of his ways and he comes back to the light in the end.
My breath catches in my chest. I didn't, in a million years, think she'd do it. Think he'd do it. But here we are, standing face to face at the foot of Doryan's bed. A part of me wants to scream at him to wake, to send for the guards, to grab his swordspear and run the intruder through. But I could never do that, not to the love of my life. My heart pounds in my ears like flarecasters. We stand in silence for seconds that feel like years, eyes locked on each other's. Until I glance down, and I see it. The long, lustrous black dagger in his hand.
It has to be done, he says as he charges forward. I grab his wrist, wrap an arm around his neck. He pushes me back, twisting around. We whisper at each other, in anger and love and fear and hatred and everything. Pushing, grasping, gasping, gasping for breath. I can't breathe. He can't speak. He lets go of me and I fall back a foot, two feet, stumbling onto the foot of the bed. My stomach is wet. Tolmir's panting, terrified, a wild look in his eyes as they look at my chest. I look down and see what he sees. His knife in my heart. I look up at him and fall to my side, sputtering hot copper through my lips. He wails in a way that can't be mistaken. He's kneeling, begging, sobbing, pulling, pushing, gasping, gasping for breath. He lays down next to me and holds my hand. A shadow falls over us but I don't look at Doryan because I only have eyes for you, Tolmir. His royal carpet's run red, stained with our wine. The blood's sputtering from your lips as you press them against mine. Love was your first and last crime. Our breath the only thing keeping time.
Aftermath
It's time to end this game, Telmara, once and for all I scream. The energies buzzing through my blood begin to boil outside of me, into the air and sand in all directions. Her words are lost in the roaring of pure psychic power taking form between us, but I hear it within me nonetheless. You've lost your mind, Raz, but I'll help you find it.
I twist my hand, grasping onto the spiral of force that begins to rip itself out of the ground, a spear of twisting sand which I propel at the one I once loved above all else. Again and again, I tear the sand and dust whence it has rested for ten thousand years and toss it as a projectile. Again and again, she blocks or deflects me. Arrogant little bitch still thinks she's stronger because she's older.
She's not willing to go as far as I am. She's not ready to evolve like I am.
I turn my focus inward, projecting a screen between Telmara and I. I wrap my internal gaze around that pulsating strength within me, that horrid... thing which blesses and curses me. It resists, as I expected it would. But I don't care for its desires, I don't care what it wants or needs, because I am in control here. I grip and grasp its writhing burning form hiding in my bones, and squeeze the strength I desire from it like water from a rag.
I open my eyes. I can see her, not in front of me but miles away, in my mind's eye. She's afraid, afraid of me. Finally. Finally she sees me for what I am; power. I raise my right hand, and the sight of the earth parting in a ten-mile line nearly surprises me. Finally. I lock my thoughts upon her and thrust my hand forward, rending sand and rock and air and space and thought itself so powerfully that the dust of what was once an entire nation will rain upon this world for generations to come.
And in that same instant, as I wreaked havoc upon everything and everyone I'd ever known or loved, a single mote of brain the size of a speck of dust was pulled less than an inch out of place and what was meant to be my grand apotheotic life was snuffed out without even a whimper.
I looked down on the utter devastation my beloved had wrought upon our world, floating down as slowly as I could to try and avoid the worst of the falling bedrock. Strangely enough, I didn't resent Raz for turning against me, or even for trying to harm me. But this... desolation she had created would last. An entire civilization, an entire continent even, scooped from the earth and ground to dust because of something so simple and potent as jealousy.
I expected to have some trouble finding her body in the ruin, but before long the telltale fiery glow of her rebirth was visible through the ash and dust. I held her in my arms as she awoke, ignoring the burning on my skin. I didn't expect my current visage to be long for this world; regardless of what happened in the aftermath, I didn't want to live with the memory of how she had looked at me.
And then her eyes opened and she looked at me once more, with the same foggy confusion as we'd both experienced in countless ages of this world. Confusion, fear, and then serenity as she saw my face and knew, even without understanding, that she was safe, that she was loved. I put my hand on her cheek and squeezed, and she looked up to me and smiled. Then looked past me and frowned.
I felt the same thing she did, the same disturbance of energies. I followed her gaze and looked to the sky, just in time to see something burst into existence before the setting sun. A sort of... black diamond, hanging in the sky between the moons as if suspended by strings. As if it had always been there. I saw a wave approaching impossibly fast, first through the clouds and then through the dust and rock overhead. I threw my body over Raz to protect her, but when the wave hit us it wasn't physical but mental.
I felt it bounce off of us, returning back to the black diamond like... like a call. I felt every hair on my body stand straight on end. I was seen. I was watched. I looked at Raz and knew she felt the same thing as I. I pulled her to a standing position and began leading her along, beginning my explanation of who and what we are as darkness began to swallow the sky.
The diamond, now only visible as a void of the beautiful orange lights of night, flashed with light for a moment, a red line arcing out from it to something in the sky. I watched, as the black diamond's core began to slowly fade from bright red to its natural state, something burned through the sky, passing far overhead before disappearing south over the unnatural horizon that my other half had carved out of the world. Whatever was going on felt strangely both intimately connected with me and somehow as if I were a mere bystander to some historic event.
The last thing I remember was the sparkle of a little blue flash in the sky, like an actor quietly exiting a grand stage. But still, I felt that I was being... observed.
High Priestess
I was absolutely enamored with her and I couldn't help it. Frankly, I didn't care to. Did I have a chance? No. Was that going to stop me from following her every command?
. . .
sigh Okay well when I put it like that, it sounds pretty pathetic. But it's not like things in the kingdom were… y'know. Good. Riots were a weekly occurrence at that point, somewhere along the river at least. Petty crime was beyond "on the rise" and was practically graduating to complete anarchy. The church was the only point of sanity, of safety, to be found. And suuuure, if the high priestess happened to be the most gorgeous woman I'd ever laid eyes on?
Let's just say it made "altruism" a pretty fucking easy choice.
Unfortunately for my selfish ass, Aravi was the real deal. She talked the talk, walked the walk, and I could swear colors were just brighter around her. Fights stopped when she walked by, riots ended when she asked them to, and the most vicious and disorderly screaming match would arrange itself into neat little rows when she came around with weekly rations. I have to assume she could see right through me, but if she did she never let it show. There was only one man (well, "person") she would raise her voice to, and that was the big guy himself.
I stumbled in, once, during one of their debates. Drius had told me to bring in the week's report straight to him, but he wasn't in his office and I (foolishly) thought I could just hand it off to God and get back to my cushy office in the temple before the afternoon riot started. Instead I found the kindest woman in the kingdom stamping her foot down, all but slapping the very god she served with her words as she demanded he make a change.
"We can't keep going on like this, and you know it just as well as I do. Your kingdom won't just forget the centuries of suffering they've endured because you strolled up with a bunch of fancy buildings and a magic wall and told them to get along."
"You are being ridiculous. The people are safe from the demons they once feared, I did that. They are fed and clothed and housed, I did that. If they insist on continuing to act like cockroaches and rats, then they will be treated as such-"
"That! That is exactly the problem! These people are afraid, your majesty! They don't need to be stamped out like pests, they need to feel safe!"
"They do not need to be coddled like children. If they will not accept my open hand, then they will receive my fist."
"They need. A king. A leader, to guide them to each new day, to shield them from the darkness with his light. Not a new monster, that stands above them in the sun and locks them away each night. Every single man, woman, every child knows what it means to survive. It means to fear, to hide, to be more quiet than your neighbor so that when the monsters come, when the monsters come, they kill them first. Telling these people they're safe is meaningless! And it doesn't help when their questions are met with empty suits of silver soldiers, beating them to the ground until they beg for mercy!"
God was silent at that, looking away from her as she continued.
"You say you want to help us, to protect us, to save us. And unlike the average person who was yanked out of the hole they were hiding in and thrust into your brave new world, I actually believe you. But…" She sighs for a moment, gasping a sigh as a tear fills her eye. "You're doing an incredibly terrible job of showing it."
Another moment of silence, before God leans back in his gilded golden throne, defeated. "Fine. You are right. This is not working… What would you suggest?"
Aravi herself was stunned into silence. Had she actually made progress? Actually changed the stubborn god's mind for once? "Well…" she said, putting a hand to her chin as she began pacing. "For one thing, a mindless police force is a terrible idea. People don't need to be struck down when they make a bad decision, they need to be helped. Taught right from wrong, the mistake corrected, and the inciting problem solved."
"And what of the riots?"
"Well beating people hasn't stopped them, so maybe look into why they're rioting in the first place?"
sigh "Fine. What else?"
As she spoke, Aravi's pace (both of foot and word) grew faster, more confident. "Weekly rations are more problematic than helpful. Not every family needs the same amount or types of food, and anyway there ought to still be more than enough to go around. Living from shipment to shipment with no room for error is a recipe for disaster. It's fine to support the people with your divinity, good even; but ultimately they need to be able to support themselves and each other, at least for the most part."
"More food? That could hardly stop the bad intentions behind the riots."
"You might be surprised. Bad intentions are a lot rarer than you think; mostly people just want to take care of themselves and the ones they love. We all still remember what it means to be starving and hiding from the monsters. Most of the people who are starting these fights are only doing so because they're afraid of going back to the way things were before."
"And you know this with certainty, hmm?"
"Yes, because I talk to them instead of arresting them."
". . .What if you didn't?"
"Didn't talk to them? Why wouldn't I talk to them-"
"No. What if you didn't remember? If you didn't remember the starvation, the death hiding in the night. What if you didn't remember the fear?"
"I…" Aravi stopped, thinking deeply. "It's… an effective solution, if an inelegant one. You… can do that?"
"I am a god, Aravi."
"Okay, point taken. But… how would people survive? A society has countless moving parts, skills and trades. If two-hundred-thousand people suddenly woke up as babies, we'd all be dead in a week."
"I can… ensure the skills remain. Your trades, your talents. Even your memories of each other, or at least the intents of the memories. You would know your brother, or your best friend, and you would know you are Aravi and kind and a healer. You would know I am your God and I keep you safe, you would know to stay within my protection, but you would not remember the coldness of your bones or the breath of a brimorak on the back of your neck as you ran."
"Hmm… That… could work… But it still won't solve the last problem."
"And what is that?"
"You." Aravi said, hands on her hips as she raised her eyebrows defiantly. "Your humanity leaves… a lot to be desired. It doesn't matter if you make a perfect beautiful paradise if you start smiting people the first time they piss you off."
God chuffed on his throne, throwing a hand at Aravi with disgust. "I do not smite mortals because they irk me! You know better than anyone that each life in my domain is precious to me."
"Only because they give you power." She shot back, her defiance only growing. "Doing the right thing for the wrong reason doesn't make you a good person, it makes you useful. Until you aren't. It might be a year from now, it might be a hundred years from now, but eventually something will come along that rubs you the wrong way or challenges you in a way you aren't prepared for, and instead of handling it like a man you'll handle it like a god. Which is to say, badly, and with overwhelming force. And then the people's trust in you will evaporate and we'll be right back where we are now."
"So, what? I'm supposed to become… not a god? That's your final solution?"
"Well… no, I guess. I mean, bringing yourself closer to us would certainly help; it's harder to accidentally step on a dog than an ant, y'know? But other than that, the only surefire way I know to teach someone humility, thoughtfulness, and love is-"
A wailing erupted through the throne hall as Drius stepped wearily through the entrance, flanked on either side by half a dozen silver soldiers marching in perfect lockstep (a sound which undoubtedly was only further infuriating for the screaming infant). Desperately cooing and rocking the infant, Drius called with a hoarse throat, "My sincerest apologies, my lord. He-… sigh he hasn't slept all night, and Leera and I've been doing our best but- Ah! Mira! You have my report?"
Shit. He looked right at me, standing awkwardly half-in the doorway of his office as I'd been eavesdropping on a conversation I should have extricated myself from days ago, and Aravi and her God's gazes followed the steward's right to me. Shrinking mentally to the size of the ant I hoped God would step on, I lowered my head and held up the report. Unfortunately for me, God did not smite me down as I'd hoped. Instead I was promoted to midwife for the soon-to-be pregnant high priestess, a role which (ironically) did end with my death. After Aravi's funeral I, eyes bleary with grief and exhaustion, tripped down the Exalted Palace's stairs and broke every bone in my body on the way down. Twice.
Maybe the quiet life for me next time, huh?
Hollow
When first we met him, his hazel eyes were kind and his young heart was full. It was storming, a dark and wicked storm the likes of which appears once in a millennium and strikes like the wrath of god. We were starving, caked in rags and mud and crawling our way towards the only light we could see (so, the usual). The man let us in, into his home and his pantry and, eventually, his heart. Two orphan girls, barely more than skin and bones with naught an ounce of talent or greatness about either of them, but he took them in anyway. That's the kind of man he was, the kind that loved life in all its forms and living in all its challenges.
A small plot of land was about all the man laid claim to, just enough to feed himself and the occasional passing stranger. When the storm had passed and the field was more stone than earth, we helped him clear it. Without a word shared between us, we helped him clear a bit more. And then we helped till the land, and sow the seeds, and before long the three of us had something resembling a life together. In those days, our regenerations were still… dirty. Imperfect. We could share feelings with each other, but language was beyond our grasp, and the man did not speak either (whether from a disability of the body or mind, we never knew). But words… were not necessary. We shared something, something simple and special. She and I communicated with our smiles and gentle embraces, and we all were happy.
One dark summer, the crops grew blighted and weak, and the man became ill. He could barely breathe, could not eat what little remained unsullied and glistened with fever for days on end. We could not bear to see him like this, so feeble and hurt. She stayed with him while I went to the nearest bazaar, desperately offering everything we had in trade for something that could save him. Despite my challenges, eventually an older elf man with blue eyes accepted my payment and followed me home, inspecting the ailing man with care and grace. But the elf shook his head sadly, returned the clothes and vase I had offered and prayed over the sick man before leaving.
We couldn't accept this, we wouldn't. We looked in each others' eyes, our hearts, and we agreed that we would risk whatever we could to save him. So we clasped our hands to his and pierced his wrists through our own, his lifeblood mingling with ours and with… the other.
It wasn't much, I don't think. It does not like to leave our bodies, regardless of our intentions. But a few drops spilled out of the both of us, finding purchase within him. For a day and a night his insides burned like fire, glowing beneath his skin as soundless screams gasped from his throat, and all the while we held his hands and wished. And in the morning, the heat dissipated, his breath calmed, and he opened his eyes and looked at us with wonder. We could not have explained to him what we did even had we shared words; but he understood that something had changed, and that we were not what he thought we were but instead something more. That kindness, I think, was the greatest mistake we've ever made.
Years later, another sort of tragedy struck, although it was an altogether more mundane kind. During the harvest, her foot caught on a root and she fell unto her scythe, piercing her heart in one fell blow. He saw it, saw her fall and her blood weep from her chest, and he silently screamed in sorrow as he held her lifeless corpse in his arms. As I passed by, saw him holding her, I was somewhat confused; somehow, in all those years, it hadn't yet occurred to me that he didn't realize we would come back. I pulled him kicking and screaming from her corpse as it turned to molten flame, covered her with a cloak when she emerged doe-eyed and naked as a babe. As I turned back to him, he was awed and confused; trying to help in the only way I could think of, I cut my throat on the same scythe to show him that we were fine. When next I opened my eyes, smiling to try and calm him, I instead saw something else, something that I thought then was fear.
Decades passed. It was, I think, likely the unluckiest stint we ever experienced. Rarely would five years pass before one (or both) of us would die to a freak accident: suffocating in our beds at night, a stray plank swinging from the ceiling and impaling me through the eye. Once, they went on a long trip to purchase new boots, and the morning they left I slipped, fell into the well, and starved to death twice. Each time, we returned anew with fresh bodies and full life, and yet with each passing summer he grew older and slower, his features eroding like wind carving stone.
They day came when he confronted us. It had been difficult, once, to communicate without words; but decades together and we could understand each other just fine. He pointed to his gray hair, his wrinkled furrowed skin and his creaking bones. He pointed to us, young and lithe and vivacious. He pointed to his hands, the scars still visible in the center of both his palms, and placed them up against ours, fresh and smooth despite our decades working the fields. He wanted it again, that thing that had saved him once and that saved us each time a stray mishap ended our lives. But we looked at each other, at him, and shook our heads. We couldn't. It was a miracle it had worked even the once, but that thing inside us did not like to share, did not like to play games. It would not allow us another "gift" like the first.
I did not realize then how wrong we had been. We had not shown him kindness all those years ago, not really. Instead we had taken it from him, taken that kindness and burned it out from inside him until there was nothing left. And now, he wanted more, more of what we should never had offered him and no longer could. He grew more insistent, grabbing our wrists and huffing and yanking. His eyes were no longer the quiet warm olive they had been when he had saved our lives; they were cold, grey, and devoid of life. He struck me, surprising us all at his boldness. Then he struck me again, and again, cracking my skull beneath his fist with a ferocity I'd never seen. When I awoke, I saw him huddled over her still-melting corpse, his fists and mouth burning with ash and flesh as he shoveled as much of her into his maw as he could. It wasn't him anymore, I decided in that moment. It couldn't be. Despite our best intentions, despite our years of love and affection, our gift had hollowed him out and all that remained was a monster. I kicked him, pushing him off her, and before he could recover I grabbed her and ran, I ran for days and days and when I fell she picked me up and ran in my stead. We ran until the stars were different, ran until we were sure that whatever remained of that empty man was dead and gone, dust in the sands of Alyabis.
