by Marc Mulero
“Why?” She seethed, almost in tears now, feeling like a fool all of a sudden.
“Because you have conquered addiction before. Because you have it in you to harness this gift and not let it consume you.”
Eres shot up and paced around nervously at this point. “Shit. So not every esper can meld. It seems a hundred times more valuable now. Shit! How many times has the Amrite esper been split? Damn it Fata, in trying to separate the ring to prevent us from Seren’s wrath, did you unknowingly give him more opportunities to steal and use it?
The princess stepped backward like she’d been struck. “Conquered it before…”
“Yes, princess.”
“Not even my royal guard knew. It was too high up for Reach, and too closed off for Sorcery. My tower was impregnable… it’s impossible that my secrets were leaked, especially by a little magician like you. How?”
“Simple really,” the Founder said. “I was your servant. You kept requesting cold rags after every dose, remember? After all, who would suspect a frail old man like me of looking to recruit royalty?” He walked up to her while she continued to shake her head and inch away. “I can see it in your face, the shock of it. You don’t even remember, do you? I waited on you hand and foot for five months and this is the first time you’re actually seeing me. You really should stay, princess. I can teach you to be humble.”
She nearly tripped over Xellious, who caught her by the shoulders kindly.
Then, when she had nowhere else to go, the Founder grabbed her hands with both of his. “I watched you change. I watched you stare at those tongs you shoved up your nose thrice a day, I watched you struggle to resist. And eventually, I watched you conquer your addiction. That’s how I know you can handle the Amrite esper.”
Eres walked up to the intense exchange. “I wish someone would speak to me so plainly. If the Founder could do it, why couldn’t Ramillion, Masarian, my fata… why did they have to be so cryptic?”
He looked to the princess who possessed such riling emotions - going from a pouty brat to a drug addict about to convulse from withdrawal. What was she thinking? He stepped closer. What did she know from living in there for so long? Another step.
Sloop.
Before Eres knew it, his body melded with hers.
“Yuck.” He immediately felt like a thousand insects were crawling up and down his arms. “Is this what withdrawal feels like?” Cold sweat ran from his temples, his eyes were itchy and what’s worse, it felt like there was a gaping hole in his heart. This woman’s life was terrible. What she was feeling was nightmarish – supercharged hatred. For what?
“Oh man, princess.” Eres shivered to shake off the phantom bugs. “It looks to me that you have only yourself to blame here.”
Then the spoiled, privileged bile built up like vomit. Eres felt her uncontrollable urges - her seething contempt, the readiness to explode with the slightest poke, all directed at the Founder. What was he saying to her now?
In the play she had eventually turned away and headed back to her tower with Shetana as her escort.
Did it even matter why? This woman was lost…
“The only thing this overzealous unni did right was bequeath her esper to someone useful. What a rotten being, to her core.”
And with that, Eres split away from her, wiped his ethereal form to rid it of her emotional dirt. “So glamorous on the outside, princess. Even here in Okabin. But I’ve never felt anyone so misguided and dependent in my life. You’re everything I hope not to be.”
All attention turned to Rikle, who was seated calmly with three smoothly spherical fireballs circling over his palm. This was how he concentrated, Eres imagined, because he was speaking, but eyes were fixated only on the flame, like someone lost in a trance.
“Will we find each other in there, oh nameless teacher?” Rikle spoke.
“Too vast,” the Founder stated plainly.
“Yet you were able to place us where you saw fit. Isn’t that right? You speak of navigation, exploration, of a secret within the infinite, all of these things that you have accomplished. Yet you say we will not be able to do something so simple as find our way to one another?”
“Yes!” Eres moved on. “I knew you were the smart one! Keep going little Kujin! Ask more!”
“Perhaps you simply won’t let us find one another.” The flames floating about Rikle’s palm cycled faster. “Perhaps you simply relish in having control over others, nameless teacher. Your motives are questionable, no matter how sincere you appear. Condemning Five Hearts to wander in an infinitely endless gift, mindlessly. Or -how did Gardone put it? - deaf, dumb, and blind?”
The Founder sighed. Having just dealt with a tantrum from the princess and now trapped under the critical spotlight of a Sorcerer proved that he still had a long way to go.
“Perhaps I am protecting you, Rikle. Perhaps my life passed me by in the blink of an eye, literally, all because of innate curiosity. How foolish. I crossed lines I should not have crossed and now I pay the price. Pfah. Perhaps I don’t want you to live the same mistakes I have lived.” He looked him up and down. “I’m not holding you hostage here either. Stay on your own accord. And know, I will teach you to navigate and I will teach you when to wait patiently. But none of this works without trust.
“As a first short lesson, Shetana here,” he motioned, “is your most valuable member. You see, she bears the entirety of darkness within the Eternal on her shoulders. She suffers it, so you four can explore uninhibited. Without her… if she were to pass on without finding another to bequeath her esper, the darkness would spread to all of you. And who in their right mind would volunteer for such a task? No one. Rest assured new wielders, the darkness would surely cripple you.
“So if the lot of you are ever to find harmony together, the first steps to take are to condemn me for dropping this load unto you without your consent, and simultaneously thank Shetana for sacrificing everything.
“Princess,” the Founder turned to her, “if you plan to selfishly meld with memories for the rest of your days, you should be ashamed that you would waste such a splendid gift. And you, Rikle,” he shifted to the Kujin, “if you walk away now, untrusting, then you will be stumbling for years, wasting time with no guidance and kicking yourself for not residing here in Okabin, with me, while I still have life.”
Rikle’s spinning orbs suddenly puffed into smoke where he stood.
“I will stay.” Gardone folded his massive arms. “Whether you are true, or Rikle’s suspicions are correct, I would never know if I left today.”
This was good, all of it – the experience of melding with the Hearts, the direct knowledge being absorbed by the Founder. He would return to Rudo with much more uncovered for sure.
He looked around at the bubble that was blasted with dark winds, the one rippling in place like the surface of water but yet holding strong against the elements. The Founder was powerful, Eres surmised, much so.
Eres looked between the peaceful warrior and the sorcerer, thinking of who to meld with next.
Sloop.
He purposely fell into Rikle. Immediately he felt what it meant to be a sorcerer – an insane ever-shifting energy syphoning between his limbs. He could sense Rikle pressing the force against his fingertips and then reeling it back toward his chest. Where did the energy come from? The ground, the air? Either way, Eres was sure of one thing in this moment – he was envious.
Next, he focused on his emotions. Deep, deep concern. These visions from Gushda seemed very much like manipulation to Rikle. A destiny that was unnatural – not brought forth by Mustae, a god, but rather by a peer of sorts. That’s what the Founder was, wasn’t he? Mere mortal.
Eres could relate.
“Hmm.” He eventually broke free from Rikle and stared at the Founder – his face was too pleasant for what he claimed to have been through. His body corroborated the story however: so frail, thin, and weak, as if he would soon collapse from the weight of his bones. Even his beard
hair was frayed – a handful of scraggily strands few and far between waving around. Eyes forever squinting, like it was painful just to see. It could’ve just been age though.
“He was mortal, right?” Eres pondered. He had to know.
In the middle of a conversation that he was no longer hearing, Eres paced forward. Closer to the old man, uncomfortably so, to where he was mere inches away from him now. He could feel an immense energy radiating from him – tenfold of Rikle. It was like bottled electricity, and Eres was considering dipping a toe into it.
Crash! Like thunder. What had he done? Then a golden flash blinded Eres for a hot second.
“Oh no. I should have known.” Eres patted himself to make sure he was still there, looking around frantically. This had happened before… the time he tried to meld with Seren when he and Agden were sparring.
“Damn this! I should’ve just sat and listened!”
The memory was collapsing like a dying star, imploding inward. The dark winds were no longer rushing sideways, but falling like sand dropped from the sky.
“No, damn it!”
The conversation halted. Shetana’s demonic eyes were harshly set on the Founder, stuck in time. Xellious and Rikle were pensive. The princess, annoyed. Gardone resolute in his decision. And him… the Founder himself, his eyes were curiously on Eres, eerily so. Everyone was dissolving faster than he could protest though. It was over.
Then came the suction – the blast of an explosion, like a thousand impellers were burst in his face. Eres was tossed out of the memory. Spinning, flailing, his ethereal form fighting to keep its shape. Further and further through Gushda he flew, too fast to even comprehend. And before he knew it, he was knocked out for what felt like a brief instant, only to open his eyes somewhere else…
He jolted awake, white mist flying everywhere.
“What,” Eres heaved, “where? Oh.”
He was in the snow, just outside of the Northern Grottos, tome in hand with his back against the only tree for a thousand gars. Rudo.
“Ugh.” He held his head, realizing that all of his joints were stiff, “Mustae. How long was I out for? The better question is did I just destroy another memory by trying to merge? Am I messing with the immortal? No, that wouldn’t make sense. They are immortal. My tampering means nothing.
“Well then, am I closing off my access to those memories?”
Eres struggled to stand. “Forget it. Focus on what you know, everything you just learned.”
It was a lot – the Five Hearts were real. The Founder was real. Mudry’s eye was more powerful than Eres could imagine, and it seemed the talent was shared back in those days too. The Founder must have possessed Reach, Sorcery, and an eye into Gushda. The perfect storm. It was one thing to read convincing texts and another entirely to witness history with his own eyes.
What else? The Founder claimed to have lost everything by uncovering the secret. It likely aged him. This fear of its uncovering ran generations deep, and it seemed for good reason. But there was at least one thing that current-day Skrols got wrong:
“The Founder never meant for us to hide, Ramillion. He meant for us to cooperate.”
A memory of Seren appearing in the same location flashed into his mind - how he said his piece from that octor recording and burst toward the glacier afterward.
“I’m going to finish this insane training. And I’m going to confront Seren Night.”
He then thought of his father traveling within the storms, running, hiding, going to great lengths to keep his esper safe.
“I reject fear, Fata.”
But he confronted Seren too… to no avail… a voice inside him spoke, but he just shook it away.
Down he reached to gather his belongings, grimacing along the way, back aching. He was drained from his lengthy visit to Gushda, it seemed. It took a bit too much effort to bend down. But his determination was true – he couldn’t just sit here any longer. It was time.
“Whatever awaits me on that twinkling pile of ice, I’m ready for it. I’ll mark a whole family of Aegods if I must. I’ll steal a dulwar’s eggs. I don’t care. I’ve had enough. I’m ready to be a Skrol.”
He twisted one way, cracking his back, and then the other. “Time to go, Eres.”
His body sung a different tune, though. With just two steps it was clear that his joints were still stiff, flesh still bruised, and that he would collapse if he tried anything stupid. So he instead hobbled over to the octor stand behind the tree, looking as though he’d aged into an elderly man.
Just some early morning grogginess, he hoped. I can shake this off.
He gathered himself before the pristine orb reflecting the twilight sky. It was chest-level, beckoning him one last time. One more look. And so he swiped a finger across its smooth surface, bringing his trainer to life one last time in the form of a projected hologram – the one who kept him company here at the Edge of Eternity.
Voom. She materialized like dust falling perfectly in place to create a shape. And there she was, already in proper position. Her sword turned into a blur as she swung it around, ending with it pointed at the center of her face.
“Thank you, Ringwal, for your masterful lessons. No one will ever expect these two styles, yours and Proctor Vasa’s, to merge into one. That’s what I’ll be. You’ll see. I am your living legacy. Oh, and also thanks for keeping me sane out here… if that’s still what I am.”
He bowed and swiped on. Next. Don’t know her. Next. His stomach fluttered when young Wudon came into existence once more. It always did make him nervous. His appearance was both intriguing and daunting all at once. Chilling even. And for some reason Wudon had offered no lessons here, just endless pacing back and forth.
Eres gulped and eventually turned away, checking his bag once more to make sure his possessions were still in there.
Tomes? Check. Extra food from the tree? Check. Fliser, oobs, impeller, sword? Check. And lastly, he re-equipped his Glite armor to ready himself for the battle against the elements or otherwise, if the time came. The activation soothed his joints almost immediately like hot compresses on a wound – whether it was mental or technological, he’d take it.
“Okay, wake up, Eres. Okay.” He slapped his own face to psyche himself. “Windel, here’s to seeing you again, to getting out of this horrible experience alive and in one piece. Here’s to emerging as a Skrol!”
He cranked his impeller while gauging the proper trajectory and positioned it below the small of his back for maximum arc. Click.
A burst of wind sent him far.
Chapter 37
A Final Lesson
The temperature shifted rapidly as Eres took flight. From warm to cold air. It was freezing. The further he flew away from the lone tree at the Edge of Eternity the more he suspected Ramillion had been messing with the elements. Well of course, right? There was an octor planted there after all.
He suddenly felt that he’d been wrapped in a sorcerer’s blanket for all of this time. Protected. Coddled. A reward for marking the Aegod perhaps. Who knew?
But now that was over.
Cold steam rose in these parts of the Verglas Sphere – just like he’d studied years prior.
“Inverted elements. Heat doesn’t rise here, only the cold does,” he said to himself, looking down, watching the body of water move beneath him. “Whatever lies ahead, I hope this Glite can handle variant weather.” He looked forward to the blinking glacier closing in fast.
Click. Another controlled burst from his impeller thrusted him higher so he could start at the tip of this thing rather than the base of it. He didn’t want to climb nor meditate any longer. He was done reading too. He was going to finish this damn training and be done with it.
No more hiding. I want to see my ooma again. My friends. Her. I want to see her again. His jaw clenched and then loosened, the wind continuously pelting his face. One step at a time.
He was dipping on the tail end of his arc. Almost there. The closer Eres got th
e more blinding this glacier became, to the point where he wanted to shield his eyes. It’d been twilight for so long out there that this body of ice felt like a flickering sun, something he shouldn’t be staring at directly.
But he was compelled to anyway, because up close he realized that the glacier was transparent like glass with what Eres could only make out as little specks buried within it. He squinted. What are those?
More planted seeds for me to find, Ramillion? Is that what this is? You’re really going to make me dive into a giant slab of ice to complete your awful training? Fine. Here it goes.
Click. One last low-powered impeller burst landed him softly onto the crown of snow-covered ice. He stopped questioning immediately once he understood what the specks were - bones. People. Or at least they were people.
“Um… that’s disturbing. Another beast? Mustae, Fata, you wanted me to go through all of this? You would risk my life just to see if I’m worthy?” He wasn’t sure whether he was honored or concerned. Maybe a little of both.
“Okay. Think, Eres. Focus. You know all about Verglas from your studies.” He tapped the ground hesitantly. Powdered snow. “Yep, I remember in Illiad’s Octor when he went to Verglas, the author described these things as quicksand. ‘The snow should be frozen here in these temperatures. If not, you have sinking flakes,’” he recalled. “Okay, nothing to worry about.” He backed up toward a chunk of solid ice and grabbed onto it until he could get his bearings.
The incessant flashing wasn’t as intense up close, Eres noticed, for it was mostly blocked by this thick snow, or ‘sinking flakes,’ whatever his forerunners wanted to call it. Still, he didn’t like it. It looked like a soundless lightning storm was raging beneath him.
There was a time when I couldn’t wait for storms.
He suddenly didn’t care about finishing anything up here. When he should’ve been thinking about getting out of this arctic hell as fast his possible, he was daydreaming. Why? Why was he pretending that the teetering glacier was some boisterous ship that he was using to sail the spheres? Sanity, it seemed, was beginning to elude him.
