by Marc Mulero
And just like that, Eres slipped back into Gushda. Through the tunnels and into the muffled dream-like realm to which he’d become accustomed. When he arrived, his ethereal form was already in motion, on a seemingly sure path to something. But what?
He swam up past memories, wiping away the vibrant goo latching onto him, ignoring the temptation to explore.
Then it clicked. “You’re going to tell me the point of all this, Fata. Right now, I’m a messenger who doesn’t know the message. I don’t know to whom I’m delivering it, or why. None of it. I’m just pushed to be a strong survivor. Just hold out and wait… right? Just stand here as some impenetrable statue until the day that I die.
“You’re going to tell me why you lived your life in fear of this secret. And even if you won’t, I’ll find someone in here who will.”
He grimaced at the words as he said them, feeling a connection to Seren, his methods of thinking. But then he pushed past that. If he was to curb his own thoughts, deny his own questioning mind, what was he then? Some drone? A puppet?
There up ahead, to diffuse his doubt, existed a memory glowing grey and bright with a familiar figure standing in the center of it. Agden Way held out his hand through his soaked cloak. Hair drenched, eyes glimmering, he was reaching for someone, for Eres, his kin, to come into this memory and hear him.
But he had done that already. He’d been down this road before.
Eres turned away painfully, feeling like he was disrespecting his actual father by swimming past this memory of him. Guilt. Endless guilt.
“I’ve been there before. I know where that road leads, Fata.”
It was within this guilt, wanting to run as far away as fast as possible, that he realized his speed in Gushda was a pace similar to Rudo, but it didn’t have to be, right? It was a mechanism so he wouldn’t panic and lose his way.
“Screw it,” he whispered, willing himself deeper into the cosmos, his ethereal tail slithering behind him with the impression of wind in his face.
Memories were now zooming past as if he were in a speeding shider. He was able to analyze the memories anyway, quicker than he would ever have been able to in Rudo. He could sense the purpose of them, whether it was war, a lesson between mother and daughter, father and son, brother to brother. Whether it was a looming danger or a soft prayer, he saw it. Felt it.
Clothes were changing, eras, historical periods. He was using the arrow of time to discern what he perceived, just as Princess Dorescle taught him to.
“I’m a descendent of hers. I can find her,” he told himself, still pushing past hundreds of paintings hung on these limitless walls.
“No. nope,” he turned his head quickly, analyzing at rapid speeds, “not interested. Give me something good. I don’t want to stare at the mountains, old man. I don’t need peace, I need answers. Next.” He kept going until...
“Princess. I found you. Just like the portrait on the back of the tome… the artist did you justice.” His eyes were wide, body flowing toward the memory like a moth to a flame. He couldn’t help but analyze her since he felt like he knew her, to study her: curls were plastered to her head, tightly wound into a royal bun like a crown of hair. Her skin was variant – darker shades of brownish green covered her forehead and extended down to the cheekbones. It wasn’t harsh, but still noticeable, and lighter, pearly colors coated the rest of her face, rounding to her chin. Another sign of the times she lived in. This was decorative, maybe even political. A Dagos mask to show acceptance of multiple territories.
Eres was mesmerized by all of it, but then something happened. The princess shook her head and pointed beyond, in the same direction Eres was already traveling before he stopped.
“What? She wants me to continue on? There’s nothing in that memory, I can sense it. Bizarre. Fine.”
He zoomed forward, picking up speed once more. There, another one, the same memory – Dorescle shaking her head and pointing.
“What is this?” He kicked over another gar or so by Rudo’s standards before finding an imprint of the same memory. “Breadcrumbs?”
Eres was getting closer to something… he could sense it up ahead. Finally, a speck in the distance began to glow, a glimmering flowy entity - a strange mix of purple and deep blue on its outer edges. As he crept up, he realized it was massive, meant to be showcased.
“Mustae… the Five Hearts surrounding… the Founder?” He hesitated, wanted to back up, but knew deep down he couldn’t pass this memory up in a million years.
“So it’s confirmed then - the Five Hearts were real. The Founder is real. Ramillion wasn’t lying after all. And by the looks of it, he knew exactly what they looked like.
“How?” He drifted toward it, gaping at Shetana mostly - how fierce that female Dagos was. “Mudry, of course. He probably sculpted the Five Hearts for Ramillion with his eye into Gushda.
The make-up, the body types, demeanor, all were spot on in that one lavish night in the UnderSpire. It instantly brought him back. But that wasn’t the point of all this, was it? He was here to learn of some profound message Dorescle had been pointing to.
And so he submerged himself into the plane, immediately suffering the harsh black winds of Okabin. “Deeper, keep pushing.” He covered his face with both arms, wanting to spit out sand even though he didn’t have a physical body. “You’re in the sky, just keep going down. You’ll find ‘em.”
He could feel the intensity, the vertigo, as if he were tumbling within the vortex of a tornado. But thankfully the normal bounds of reality didn’t apply there – he could still move freely through it; his ethereal form allowed for it. Blind from blackness, deaf from gales, he never wanted to visit this place in Rudo, no matter the rarities it possessed. All he could do was consider death. He wondered how many sets of bones had settled in these sands? How many times had they been covered and recovered from these endless gusts of poison?
“Deeper.”
It was interesting how time spent in memories eventually awarded some kind of sixth sense. He could feel in his mind where to go the same way an experienced navigator could. He knew where the Five Hearts were… he knew he was close.
And he was right.
Through the curtains of haze he stole a glimpse of a sorcerer’s bubble, something that disturbed the otherwise chaotic scene. A speck of order within hell. Of course it would stick out like a sore thumb.
Eres was sure about this too. It must’ve been a session held by the Founder himself, at a time when the Hearts were all together. It had to be. And there was no way he’d miss a second more than he had to.
Woosh.
He flew forward - a straight shot right for it.
“This could have answers,” he told himself on the way. “Real, concrete answers, straight from the horse’s mouth.”
Sloop.
Melding into the bubble felt the same as it did when he fell through the obols back in Dundo-Ba. He fought past the elastic sack, experiencing the sorcery for an instant. Then, after blinking away confusion, everything became clear. No more blaring winds or eye-scratching blindness. Just the Five Hearts standing in an uneven semi-circle, facing the one. Eres scanned them all in awe:
Gardone – the brawny peaceful warrior and former prisoner. He was scorched with scars around his wrists and ankles to mark where his shackles confined him. But you would never know by his stature. This dark fighter was as kingly as the broadsword lining his back.
Xellious - the leafy Umboro Reacher decorated like the Dolseir forest. His expression was the most unsure, obviously hurt by his peoples’ skepticism of him, of the esper visions he’d preached. He was here for solace as much as knowledge.
Rikle, the Kujin Sorcerer – a much more humble-looking being than Ramillion, so much so that Eres couldn’t quite believe they were of the same race. But dimension and shape proved it. A tiny thing with a silky stream of blond hair, teeming with magic through those rainbow eyes. He was the one in charge of keeping heat for his town, Eres recalled.
Then he looked to the scoffing princess – bratty in every right, dark circles under her eyes from esper withdrawal, her addiction. She just wanted to reside in her tower uninterrupted, unbothered, to be lost in what the Founder had given her. But still, she was there… for now at least.
And of course, the one and only Ei Shetana. This Dagos warlord from the Machekees tribe was Eres’s favorite. What’s better, she looked even more fierce than the play had portrayed, if such a thing were even possible. Tribal markings of dried blood X-ing down her neck and limbs, shrunken skulls jangling at her belt. And to think, she was barefoot even in these lands. Her eyes… wow. With those two black holes screaming of murder, Eres was happy he was an unseen ghost in these parts. But through her hardness, the fact that she stood together with this diverse crew said that there was something under the grey clothing surrounding her heart, perhaps.
It was just like the play for Eres, only this time he had front row seats.
“It has taken great measures of strength, sacrifice, cooperation,” the scrawny man at the center of it all smiled sincerely, like a grandfather would to his grandkids, “and kindness to make it this far. Even despite all of your differences, you’ve managed to find your way here without slaying one another.”
Shetana and Gardone grinned.
“Yes, it is true… I am guilty of tampering, of being the invisible hand that guided you either out of prison, away from your tribe, far from your home...” He regarded each Heart carefully. “For that, I hope you can forgive me. And to be honest, by the end of it all, I am certain that I will have to ask again.”
“Tees ting of dragging us all teh way out here,” Shetana spread her arms, “bet be more than an ol man’s sorrows, eh? Bet be.” She raised her eyebrows, one hand tapping her dagger.
The Founder didn’t respond right away. He kept pacing, dust kicking up at his feet along the way, until eventually he stopped right in front of her. It was then, in that moment, that everyone truly noticed his frailty. Physically at least. She was three shrunken heads taller than him. Three! But his fearlessness in walking right into her personal space kept all eyes on him.
He grabbed both of her arms in a nonthreatening manner. “Ei Shetana. The devils that you bear, I have borne. It is okay. You are not alone, like I was. Can’t you see past the darkness? You have friends. All different walks of life, right here.” He stomped his foot and the bubble protecting them pulsed. “Do not be consumed by this darkness, Shetana. You already live it here, in Rudo. That’s how I know that you’re the one equipped to handle this burden in the Eternal World.
“Look at me, Shetana.” He slapped her arm while still holding onto the other.
Her eyes signaled a murder was about to occur, but yet, she was unmoved.
“It will always try to break through to Rudo, and it will always try to expand throughout Gushda. Plague and illness are not limited to the physical world. It is you who must manage this burden. Whether you reject your comrades or not, you will shoulder this responsibility until your last breath. For that, you must suffer an old man’s sorrow.”
“I’ve always felt this connection,” Xellious spoke up. “Anytime I would summon branches at my feet to lift me higher than the trees, whenever I sent my voice far underground, I always felt like I was tapped into something else. It was only after this ring,” he looked to his finger, “that I was so sure of it. The visions were real. They are real.”
“Of course they are.” The Founder moved on to Xellious, inspecting him. “I was blessed. Hm, perhaps that’s not right. Not blessed, but cursed rather with a dreadful eye into the Eternal. You were blessed. You see, Xellious, you could only touch the metaphysical by way of your Reach gifts. You could form a connection between two worlds just by feeling, honing. I, on the other hand, had sight. I was immersed. Lost. Too much for any one being.” He sighed audibly.
Eres sat cross-legged, watching. “The Founder does have anguish. I can see it plainly. Is it true that he’d lost everything to the secret?”
The Founder continued, “Which is why I’ve created these espers. The rings you bear contain a discovery that I made in the expanse of Gushda. Hah! What am I saying? Of course there is no such thing as voyaging in there. It is infinite, eternal. But at the same time… we defy it so. Our existence within the infinite itself creates a limit. Do not ponder these things.” He wagged a finger. “Well, better, do not get lost pondering these things. Just know - there are ways to voyage throughout the Eternal… to mark your territory, know your path. And if you stay with me, I will teach you.”
Shetana sneered and muttered some curses to herself. “I am here to rid myself of tees devil. Not pet it!”
“Please Shetana,” Rikle interrupted. “Let us hear him out before we become rash.”
“If maybe I cut out dis devil’s tongue, tees will be over then, eh?”
“And we will have gained nothing,” Rikle retorted.
“Can I go back now?” The princess wiggled her dainty fingers to showcase her esper.
A collective “No!” resounded from the other Hearts.
The princess rolled her eyes.
“This discovery… was it dangerous?” Gardone spoke next.
“Momentous, I think is a better word.”
“Momentous,” Gardone repeated slowly. “Are we meant to rediscover this on our own?”
“Heavens, no.” the Founder was blunt. “You have my discovery already, broken out between the lot of you. And out of protection, I created certain limits, or rules rather, that prevent a collective group from acting on emotion or impulse, to give real gravity to this decision. For it should never be made lightly.
“What do you mean exactly?” Gardone asked.
“Why, death, of course. It is only when you die will the ring lose its glow, and only through your will and testament would it find life again with another… with whomever you choose to bequeath it.”
“Mustae,” Eres said with his fingers over his mouth. “Ask the damn questions about inheritance! How does it work? What if someone kills you first? C’mon, you two,” he looked to Rikle and Xellious, “you both seem smart!”
No such inquiry ever came from them though. They were experiencing too much for the first time to think clearly. It was Gardone, rather, who surprised him, using nothing but a warrior’s logic.
“So… are you alluding to uniting the rings in death if we want to see what you saw?”
The Founder twitched slightly, but nodded.
“Well then, what if lovely Shetana here decided to murder us all on the spot and pillage our espers to get rid of her ‘Devil?’”
The Founder shut his eyes while the others chuckled. “Good. At least there was humor in those words. Well, to answer your question, that would be a grave mistake.”
Eres jumped up. “Why? Why would that be a grave mistake?” Obviously, there was no response.
“A grave mistake,” Gardone said quietly, as if he himself did not want to truly know why. Maybe it was better he didn’t know why. “What I’m gathering is that you want these espers to stay separate.”
“My young, healthy friends, you must understand that my wants come from a place of wretched bias. You see, I want you to retain your youth, not become consumed like Princess Sarhnis is in danger of becoming,” he nodded to her, “or how I have become. I lost everything because of my choices.”
“So, it’s true,” Eres said, “the play is derived from history, not fantasy. The secret aged him, or rather, he couldn’t escape the experience of the secret, and so stayed there. Either way, I wish Seren Night could see this. Perhaps he would change his mind…”
“Your bias is all we have in this untraveled plane. I hope you didn’t free me only to set me loose deaf, dumb and blind.” Gardone was visibly upset.
The Founder replied, “No. Not that. Definitely not that. I will teach you, lads and ladies, I will. But as for the grandiosity of my discovery – I can only say that the decision should be strapped
to life, your lives. If you decide to uncover it, it will be an agreement that the last living heir, or inheritor, will be the one to experience. And if not, you will be tasked to continue the legacy I have started… of finding others worthy of wielding your espers.”
“Ahem,” said the princess. “Excuse me old patron.”
“Yes, Highness?” The Founder was polite regardless of the group’s distain for her.
“Did you send these,” she fluttered her hand with disgust, “creatures to ‘rescue’ me from my tower just to tell me that these rings are calling for us to band together? Did you drag me to the middle of Okabin, in the forbidden realms, for this?”
The Founder blinked, waiting to see if she was done.
“This ‘Eternal’ land is the only place I find joy. Particularly when I - I don’t know - merge? Yes, when I merge with a certain someone, I feel like I’m on a drug inducing long-lasting ecstasy. Why would I ever come back to this shithole if I had a choice?”
“Because, my dear, this shithole is yours to transform and protect. The Eternal is not a place to live when you have a body in the physical. It is not, princess, don’t shake your head, trust me it is not. I am one hundred years of proof! It is a place to pull knowledge from, to escape temporarily, perhaps, but not a place to live.”
She scoffed and shouldered her way to the front, figure frail and trembling, nails constantly scratching at her neck. “Who are you to decide where one can live?”
“Highness, I am the one who concocted your gift. I shared my eye into Gushda with you. In your words, I gave you the only place that you find joy. Please princess, I beg of you, hear me out in return. The Amrite esper is yours for life, and it contains high levels of addictiveness due to…”
“Due to what?” She stomped closer. “Huh?”
“Being able to live out another’s experiences by melding with them. Those memories you float into are from others who possessed an eye into the Eternal like I have. Ehem,” he cleared his throat, “the starting coordinate that you pass into when you dive into Gushda - I chose that spot for you specifically. There are great emotions there, great revelations. I knew the addictive nature of this, of course. And I chose you because…”
