Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  There floated the elegant spirit of Nordost. Manchego felt both relief and happiness at the sight of the powerful dragon sleeping on his stomach with his arms under his huge head, his wings folded over his back. He looked at peace, comfortable, and calm. But he was not the only dragon. There were also Folfiri, the Dragon of Fire; Kágalath, the Dragon of Earth; Mégalath, the Dragon of Night; Fluenthal, the Dragon of Water; and Róganok, the Dragon of Light. Those dragons slept in peace and comfort, floating aimlessly and kept in place by supernatural arts.

  Manchego felt peace at the sight of the dragons of the five essences reunited like siblings back under the same roof. The sight was something precious and unique. He hoped he would never forget.

  Then he saw that beside each dragon, a sphere of energy was taking shape. Beside the Dragon of Fire, there appeared a sphere of fire which roared fiercely. Beside the Dragon of Water, a sphere of water flowed gracefully. A sphere of darkness appeared beside Mégalath. The sphere that appeared beside Kágalath was of earth with leaves, roots, and branches around it. And finally, there was Róganok. At his side, no sphere had yet appeared because the essence of the God of Light was still in Manchego’s soul.

  He saw that at Nordost’s side, a suit of armor had appeared, and beside this metallic armor, a man he recognized at once floated in peace. It was Mérdmerén, the King of Mandrake. Mérdmerén was not rejuvenated like Balthazar. He looked aged and tired, something that was visible in his expression of bewilderment. He saw that Mérdmerén’s presence was not translucent like the others. Was it because his body was still alive? He could not say. He was sure that sooner or later he would find out that particular detail.

  When he turned to look to his left, he saw that Mórgomiel was there, floating motionless. His body was an amorphous mass. It was true that he had arms, legs, head, and torso, but neither face nor definition. He was darkness in its pure state without malice or bad intentions, simply darkness as it meant to be ever since the Old Gods Mórofos and Désofor had split up into Ashamsham’Krönus and Sarc-Splelendor. Beside Mórgomiel floated Górgometh. The dragon of shadows looked calm and peaceful. Like his siblings, he was asleep on his stomach with his arms under his head.

  “Dear God of Light,” came an omnipresent voice. Alac turned to look from one side to the other. He saw the dragons, then the spheres, the essence of each god. Were they speaking to him? No, the voice had come from everywhere. He looked up and down and saw nothing but his own body still clad in Alac Arc Ángelo’s armor. He realized that he was wearing his helmet. The spear and shield were no longer in his hands, however. His wings were fully spread, relaxed, and floated like two banners in some mystical stream.

  “Dear Manchego. You have succeeded. You stopped the insane progression of unbalance. Ever since the origin of things, the God of Chaos felt resentment. Since then, he has unleashed his fury against the other Gods, creating Wrath the Godslayer with which he went about collecting souls throughout his millennial life. Mórgomiel was partially defeated during the Times of Chaos when he decided to murder more than half of the Gods and accumulate their essences. At that time, the coming together of the Summons succeeded in overcoming him. But Mórgomiel managed to return when he took advantage of the tortured and tormented soul of a boy who, in his despair, accepted the darkness as a means of defense to save his own life and that of his mother.

  “The boy did not deserve to be harmed by someone so despicable and miserable. How many souls suffer because of situations as complex as growing up in a broken home, where an incomplete and unhappy adult tortures a pure soul? Shouldn’t an adult be responsible for feeling complete before he makes any attempt to bring up a child? All an unhappy, incomplete person can teach is unhappiness. Tell me: how many souls would be able to stop suffering if they had a guide to teach them the right path?

  “You said it yourself. When you reach the age of reason, you have to take control of your destiny and stand up straight. But not everyone can do that by themselves. Sometimes great friends or role models are needed. Someone who can help you to see the right path. Argbralius had his mother, who managed to see the light in him, despite knowing that malice was growing in his soul. It was thanks to her that a part of Argbralius could still be saved.

  “We have great powers, but we do not control the greatest power of the universe: the power of free will. There are thousands of millions of billions of souls in the universe, each one with its own free will, each one with its ambitions, sufferings, joys, and achievements. When one of them chooses to take the path Argbralius chose, the universe is in danger. It does not happen often, as you can see. The forces are always balanced and help the souls to find the right path. This balance has been restored, thanks to you.”

  “Who are you?” asked Alac. He felt that the sound of his voice reverberated everywhere, creating a lasting echo.

  “We are the Beings of the Celestial Divinity, a product of the fission of the Old Gods, Désofor and Mórofos, who became Sarc-Splelendor and Ashamsham’Krönus respectively. I am Mother. We are Mother. I am, you are, we are. The emanation of yore was never lost. The New Gods and the Old Gods have always been and will be an extension of our essence. The God of Chaos is a part of me, of us. He is also part of you.”

  Alac was not happy about the fact that the God of Chaos was a part of himself, Mother, or the Beings of the Celestial Divinity.

  “The shadow has been defeated and its balance has been restored,” came another voice. Alac did not know whether it was the same entity, but it seemed to him that this presence, Mother, had multiple voices, beings, or souls.

  “Mórgomiel will return to his corner of the universe to continue carrying out his function, just as you will return to yours to perform yours,” said the voice.

  “But Mórgomiel… He can’t go on living!” Alac cried in despair. “It cost me so much to defeat him and he poisoned Luchy with Wrath! Luchy! Is she dead? Where is my Luchy? Oh no, no… I hope not…” His gaze turned furious and his eyes filled with tears. “It seems ridiculous to me that you should allow Mórgomiel to go back to the universe to go on committing atrocities!” He clenched his fists. “And for what? So that you summon me again and I can go back to the same cycle of trying to stop him, thousands of thousands of living beings die, and the people I love vanish and—and—?”

  He bent double in pain and began to weep hopelessly. “Please don’t do it,” he begged. “I can’t face another cycle of the same thing.”

  A delightful warmth crept into his soul, warming his chest. The wave of peace, love, and quiet calmed him, and he stopped weeping. He breathed deeply, feeling Mother gathering him into an embrace and comforting him.

  “All the essences, Alac, are vital for the balance of the universe,” Mother said. “Light needs darkness, darkness needs light. Water, fire, dust, and the stars are all part of the intrinsic forces of matter, antimatter, and entropy. All of them need one another. It is a divine symbiosis that enjoys interrelation. Darkness is necessary, just as much as light. What we can do without is malice. Malevolence is an evil decision and free will is not a power that is under my control.

  “When the essences and their dragons that you see here go back to the universe, they will go back with no memory of what happened, with neither ambitions nor suffering. They will start from scratch and be allowed to build a new life. Dragons were beings of great wisdom, but even they have memories of past horror that they must leave behind. The universe will begin a new cycle, so to speak, and the only ones to remember anything will be the living beings. Living beings, Alac, always are and always will be infinitely more complex than the Gods. Gods exist, all the same, to keep the balance of the universe so that living beings can thrive.

  “If the God of Chaos once again chooses the path of resentment and avarice, well, so be it. We will not be able to stop it. But at the same time, we will be able to direct him. We will allow fire, light, water, night, all of them, to return and begin afresh with no memory of the breaking of the grea
t alliance and the occurrence of the great betrayal. The dragons will come back to life. Róganok will fly once again above the planets and will once again know the pleasures of feeding on the children of Mother. Górgometh will be reborn without resentment and hatred. The other dragons will never know the pain of betrayal by a sibling.”

  “And Balthazar, Mérdmerén, and the Oracle?” Alac asked.

  “Balthazar and the Black Queen of the Morelia Abyss died. The pain each of them suffered has been placated by death, and their tortured souls were victims of abuse when Malakai and Paladin controlled the chimera they had become. That is how it was, Alac. By the look on your face, I see you did not know that Balthazar had been consumed by one of Mórgomiel’s most powerful servants. He became a powerful chimera that consumed to create the great enemy that devoured Mórgomiel’s corpse and his sword and gave origin to the great shadow that Argbralius came to control. Their souls have now attained freedom, and when the Goddess of Night returns to her throne, they will be judged accordingly.”

  Alac sighed. So much had happened since Mórgomiel had defeated him before Mortis Depthos. “How did I appear in Tempus Frontus?” the God of Light finally asked.

  “When Mórgomiel defeated you but did not kill you, I, Mother, asked Nordost to allow your entrance into that sanctuary far from the happenings of the universe. We have always depended on Tempus Frontus to succeed in hiding you from evil. Without that sanctuary, and Nordost’s protection, you would have been consumed long ago and the universe would be burning in the hands of evil.

  “When Legionaer defeated you at the Cursed Pit in San San-Tera and you appeared in Tempus Frontus, it was Teitú who rescued you. In this case, when Mórgomiel defeated you before Mortis Depthos, it was the union of Luchy and Teitú that rescued you.”

  The mention of Luchy stirred Alac’s impatience again. He felt anxiety return to clutch at his heart. Mother nevertheless infused him once again with peace and ease, and he grew calmer. Had Luchy died? Was that why she was evading the subject?

  “We would like to recover Alac’s essence,” came another voice. This was not that of Mother. Which was Mother’s voice? Or were they all Mother’s voice? “The essence of the God of Light must return to the universe, just as his siblings will.”

  Out of nothing, there shone a white light. When it intensified and went out again, there appeared a body from it. It floated toward Alac, who received it with open arms.

  “Luchy!” Manchego cried. There were tears on his cheeks. He brought her as close as he could to his chest and face. “My Luchy! she’s not dead! I can feel her pulse. It’s fast and weak and her skin is pale. Wrath’s poison still courses through her veins.” He held her tenderly as he spoke.

  “She is dying,” came another omnipresent voice. “Wrath’s poison has contaminated her soul, and not even the most powerful medicine can save her now.”

  “Will she die?” he asked in pain, his eyes pleading.

  “There is a solution,” the voice said. “One essence in exchange for another. The law of equal exchange is applied everywhere in the universe. It is a universal law which rules even my existence.”

  “My life in exchange for hers?” Alac asked. “I give myself up willingly. I’d die for her at any moment! I will do it, just tell me how. Please let her live. I love her.”

  “The essence of the God of Light,” the voice said sweetly. “Return it to the cosmos. In exchange, Luchy’s health will be restored. That seems to be a fair exchange to me.”

  Alac and Manchego, two in one, saw one another face to face even though they co-existed simultaneously in the same body and soul. The God of Light, the powerful essence he had been host to from birth, the one that had been reincarnated in the creature chosen by the Beings of the Celestial Divinity, the one he had carried within him since childhood and that had come to the light in the most unexpected circumstances, now spoke.

  “We are one. I am, you are, we are. It is time for us to separate, Manchego. It is time for you to live your own life without the influence I exerted as you grew up. With my departure, Luchy will recover her health and I am sure that you will know what to do as soon as you go back to the tangible world. I will forget everything. My essence will be purified and I will keep no memory of yours. It has been a pleasure to grow up with you, Manchego. It was an honor to live under the same roof with Lulita of the Holy Comment and know, although only in memory, Eromes the Perpetuator. Greet the earth, the sky, and the observatory for me. I will miss you all.”

  Manchego gazed at the God of Light before him, a divine and powerful force that had coexisted in his soul for his entire life. Being separated was like saying goodbye to a friend who has been with you at all times and in all places. The separation made him anxious and somehow he felt wrong. But it had to happen. The law of equal exchange was forcing him to make a decision and it was an easy one. He would give everything for Luchy, even separating himself from Alac Arc Ángelo. He could retain his power for eternity, but he had proved too many times that power in itself is useless unless it serves some purpose. The purpose of using Alac’s strength had now been accomplished.

  “Will I ever see you again?” Manchego asked. There were tears in his eyes.

  “You’ll see me every time you look at the dawn,” Alac said. “Farewell.”

  With that, Manchego and the god began to separate. It was surprisingly simple. Alongside his own body, Manchego noticed a sphere floating beside that of Teitú. The armor he had been wearing—helmet, boots, greaves, gauntlets, and armlets—began to fade until they vanished. His wings vanished as well. The young man was left dressed in his usual clothes, those of the shepherd he had always been destined to be. He was wearing his beloved vest of llama wool, leather boots, woolen trousers, and a cotton shirt.

  He felt Luchy’s body gaining warmth and weight. There was color in her cheeks. Her mouth began to move, and she licked her lips. She did not wake up, but it was already apparent that the poison coursing through her veins had disappeared without side effects.

  “What will become of Teitú?” he asked. “And Argbralius’ soul? And how on earth did Mérdmerén get here?” The voice, whether it was that of Mother or another of the Beings of the Celestial Divinity, told him the full story of how Mérdmerén had become the Metallic Knight and that he rode Nordost, as he had done in the days of yore when they had helped to defeat Mórgomiel.

  “Those who still have their body,” the voice continued, “will still be alive. Those who died will be souls destined to a fair and well-deserved trial by the Goddess of Night. Teitú did not die and, like you, will be able to go on with his life.”

  Balthazar’s soul began to fade. His eyes filled with tears and he seemed to be saying farewell without words or gestures. Manchego wanted to embrace him or say his goodbyes properly in some way. But before he could voice his wishes, the soul of the Wild Man had vanished like that of the Oracle.

  “Come, Argbralius. It is time you were judged and that you paid for the injuries you have caused,” the voice said. Argbralius was far away, his spirit like a lifeless sculpture. Manchego thought he saw the young man’s gaze meet his own. On his lips, there seemed to appear a faint grimace of sadness, although he was not sure.

  “But he was just an ill-treated child!” Manchego cried in his defense. “Does he have to pay for being someone who never chose to grow up being ill-treated by his parents?”

  “Ah, Manchego. Always so kind-hearted. Always so open. Argbralius will not be punished with fire or whips. His tortured soul will receive Mother’s caresses and go back to where all souls go to rest. Argbralius will know peace and true happiness thanks to you. Perhaps his soul shall someday return to a living body and experience love and compassion.”

  Before he could ask any more questions, the divine vision began to fade. Without any control over what was going on around him, the only thing he could do was to hold Luchy tightly against his chest and close his eyes.

  “Manchego,” Mother said. “
I am not finished with you. You are going to leave Luchy’s body and she will return to the infirmary in Kathanas where Funia will be in charge of healing the less serious wounds. The poison that was in her has been eliminated. She will live. I am in debt to you, and this is the moment when that debt is paid.”

  Manchego felt an agony of worry as he felt Luchy’s body moving away from his own, but before he could say anything, the blinding blue light filled his soul.

  Chapter LXIII — Memories

  A subliminal sensation filled his soul. He felt full of everlasting delight. There was no yesterday, today, nor the worries of tomorrow. He was in a state of existence where nothing but the moment, the now, mattered.

  He breathed deeply and filled his soul with some vital substance that launched him into a calm flight. He slowed down gently until, inch by inch, he subsided and was in repose.

  He had the chance to breathe deeply again, but this time he knew he must hurry. He had arrived at his destination.

  He felt sorrow. He knew that Mother had taken his soul out of some kind of incubator to return him to the tangible world. He felt the pressures of the morrow, the worries of yesterday, and the anxiety of now.

  He opened his eyes to find himself in a deserted world the color of amber. A sun the color of oranges shone in the distance coldly, but the world stayed warm because of the sand that covered the planet. It was a world without vegetation. Instead of seas of water, there was only a sea of sand.

  When he contemplated his presence, he became aware that he could feel his body, hands, presence, breath, and the beating of his heart, but he could not see himself. He was present, but as though in a memory. He could not move either and his vision was such that he could see all around without needing to turn his head or neck or eyes to look.