by JW Baccaro
"It happens every time I get nervous."
"Nervous? But what's got you ner—" He suddenly realized how close he was to her, his lips just a few inches away, and the look on her face—nearly indescribable, almost like she was fading into a trance or wanted something ever so badly. Though it seemed like some kind of force held her back, preventing her from taking it.
Unexpectedly, Darshun got the sudden urge to kiss her. To press his lips against his Angel's, those sweet orange-red autumn blooming lips and her eyes, so innocent, so dear. He let go, not understanding what had come over him.
Both of them scarcely breathing, remaining silent for the next couple of minutes, listening to the critters of the night chant their songs.
A shooting star passed through the sky.
“I’ve always wondered what the falling stars symbolize,” Darshun said, taking on a new subject while breaking the silence.
“Some believe it is Gods casting out evil spirits, attempting to enter the heavens. Others think a new life is being born into this world. I believe each star that falls is a sign the end draws near.”
“By ‘end’ do you mean the victory of the Dark?”
“Oh heavens no, not at all, but the end of this realm in its existence. For every realm must pass away and be remade new. When that glorious day comes there shall be no more violence, death or decay. Life will have reached it’s finally journey or stage in creation. It’ll be a new kind of creation, one the present dearly longs for.”
“No violence, death or decay? Sounds more wonderful than anything I can imagine, but is it true?”
“If you believe our ancient elvish writings, then yes it is true. It shall come to pass.”
“You mention ‘realms,’ the Wizard Olchemy once told me about earth being the Seventh Realm and that amongst the stars exist six more possessing other Guardians of Light. Do you know of these?”
“Look to the sky and you will see stars uncommon from the others.”
He did as she instructed and in less than a minute…found them. They were faint but no doubt there, and not white as the common stars. One looked gold, another silver, red, orange, another yellow and the last green. Each scattered a great distance from the next. “I see them!”
“Ashhaven is the only place where all the stars are noticeable. Outside these lands, they are difficult to spot.”
“What are those stars?”
“Six realms guarded by beings of Light. And earth—the blue realm, is the seventh. My father possesses books that tell about the beginning of all seven realms, how Abidan brought them into being, how they’re even now on a continuous path of creation.”
“I’d love to read those books one day. I wonder what kind of events are taking place on them now?”
“I’d like to think that at this very moment, they’re looking upon this planet and wondering if her Guardian has yet to arrive.”
“Kelarin, I’ve never known one with such a humble and tame spirit as you have. No matter what happens, I am thankful to have known you.”
At that moment, Kelarin's smile faded and Darshun could’ve sworn he saw her eyes tearing up. But before getting a closer look she turned away, flung back her hair and rested her head onto his chest, snuggling up closely. I can hold her forever, he thought.
They enjoyed the beauty of the night a little while longer in silence and then returned to Loinnrich Crann. Darshun walked Kelarin to her room.
“I shall see you off in the morning,” she sighed with her words.
"Of course." He kissed her hand. "Goodnight Kelarin."
"Goodnight Darshun." She could not take her eyes off him until he was out of site, venturing down the stairs to his guest room. Scarcely, she shut the door, falling to her knees, letting out a host of tears she’d been holding back for much of the night. “Oh Abidan,” she whispered in prayer, "If the one possible future I've foreseen unfolds to reality, then I beg you to protect Darshun when he passes through the dreadful Unholy Flames. Let not my fate cause his failure. If it is in accordance to your will, protect him. Please!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
A CONFUSED SOUL
Prior the night Darshun spent with the lovely Kelarin, drastic changes were about to take place in Asgoth.
Queen Talvenya had just come back from a long journey. In fact, she’d been walking all night long, pondering thought after thought, challenging emotion after emotion. The bitter taste of revenge still ravaged her spirit, revenge against Darshun who’d murdered her only son. There couldn’t even be a burial for poor Sicarius, no body was left to place in a hole. As she’d discovered, Darshun not only blew Sicarius to pieces with some type of fiery sphere but the heat from the explosion disintegrated him entirely; by now the ashes had blown away in the wind. The only thing left were his memories.
Prince Sicarius was by far no saint, Talvenya knew this. Many innocent deaths were upon his hands. Why, he’d murdered entire households of families on more than one occasion. But still, he’d been her son, with a gentile side he revealed only to her and no other. As did she to him, and no other. Yet, even these thoughts conflicted within her soul. Why was she thinking about ‘innocent deaths’ Sicarius caused in the first place? In other words, the term innocence—for surely, innocence is nothing more than a fabrication brought into being by those among the Light. Strength, intellect and dominance is what mattered. In past times to dominate another was her way, and it always gave the Queen an overwhelming satisfaction. She loved it when others knelt before her because they hadn’t a choice in the matter, unless of course they welcomed death. Talvenya was no common Queen like typical kingdoms either, where out of respect one bows to the royalty. Rather, she’d drive her victims into obedience and submission forcefully by revealing her terrible unmatched power of Dark Magic. Yes, she wasn’t a Queen of ‘talk,’ but of actions.
Whenever Humans, Elves, Cullach or any creature bowed to her, they did so in worship; otherwise a painful death awaited. All this changed when knowledge of her son’s—execution became known. Day after day, the words of King Tanarokai ran through her head, “I am sorry for the loss of Sicarius. But as our lord rightfully says, it was your fault.”
Was it her fault? Had she truly been the sole reason causing the royal Prince’s death? She remembered her own words to Kelarin, spoken with such conceit in tone, “As for you, well I think I’ll have a little fun. How would you like to personally see your ‘mate’ beaten down in the arena? Oh fear not, I won’t have him killed, as I said that’s for me to do once I return. Just bashed into a bloody pulp, except this time you won’t have the opportunity to heal him. Yes my dear, the arena it shall be.”
“I did in fact—place Darshun in the arena. I did—put my son to death.” Teardrops strolled along her cheeks and she sank to the ground on hands and knees, her head down, long raven hair covering her face.
After a long and silent cry she strolled through the city. Glancing to and fro, she for the first time truly took to heart the stench Asgoth exuded.
The vanity of riches, the endorsement of impurities, in fact, many ‘sins’ the Light often preached against existed everywhere in the city, practiced on a daily basis. Lust, greed, deceit, selfishness, haughty pride, gluttony, uncaring to others, brutality and rape—which drove her attention to small band of Cullach returning a woman slave back toward Castle Volborg. Her eyes were swollen she bore a mangled face and walked with a limp. The Cullach laughed as they pushed her forward. Sometimes, she would fall down only to be yanked up immediately by the hair.
Talvenya could only imagine what they’d done to her, something she’d never approved of, only this time uncontrollable anger scorched her heart.
The lady fell down once more and the heathens began whipping her back, legs and arms, laughing hysterically. The poor woman's already battered body taking on additional markings, her skin splitting open.
“Halt!” Talvenya shouted, quickly approaching the group. She looked on the lady, her members badly bleeding
with face against the stone pavement.
“You called, my Queen?” said one of the guards.
Talvenya glared him in the eye and the cowardice soul lowered his head. “You sick, pathetic monsters!”
They guessed the reason for her choice of words, but couldn’t understand why. “My Queen, surely you know this is custom in Asgoth, and our right. King Tanarokai himself handed this slave over to us six to share.”
The nearly dead lady slowly glanced at Talvenya, a face trodden in fear—pain.
Meeting her gaze for a moment, then turning back to the Cullach Talvenya said, “ 'Share?' As though she is a worthless piece of material?”
“My—Queen?” the Cullach asked, in total bewilderment. For all knew Talvenya hadn’t a care in the world for others beside herself, and mercy was as non-existent as the Light dwelling in Asgoth. So, why in the world would she be upset?
“I dear so pray, that if there is an after life, and if vile like you six possess souls, that you'll spend an eternity in a lake of fire and suffering!” She raised her staff, flashing out a light and cast them all to stone. "Mmm, that is better. They will make fine statues. Ugly ones, but a spot for passing birds to drop their feces on."
The woman, dreadfully afraid, and admittedly not understanding, crawled over to Talvenya’s feet, kissing her smooth leather boots, placing her face onto one, pleading for mercy. She most likely came from a severe superstitious background, and believed being cast to stone would forever trap one’s soul in the element, and hoped Talvenya would not give her the same fate as those she’d just erased from existence.
Gazing down at the lady, for the first time in her life Talvenya didn’t desire a broken soul to grovel at her feet in such a way. She could feel the terrible agony the lady was in and knelt down close, gently stroking her tangled brown hair. “As your Queen, I command you not to fear me. I promise I won’t allow any harm to come your way, not any more.”
The lady cried, unleashing a storm of tears, moving Talvenya's heart in a way she’d forgotten about. “Oh, dear woman, if I only had the power to heal you…”
"You can," she said, tilting her head up. "Simply—make me a vow."
“A vow?”
“I beg you, most powerful Queen, to cease the tortures we slaves are put through everyday. The severe beatings, the slow executions, and especially the starvation, thirst, disease and loneliness those in the Gershom Pits most dreadfully suffer. I so beg you, oh most mighty and powerful Queen, have mercy. Please?”
Talvenya thought about it, how at the moment she'd be glad to grant such a promise. But what would the others she ruled over think? Would she lose respect and power from them? Perhaps authority also, at least in their thoughts?
Above all, Tanarokai would most definitely cast negative judgment.
Though in truth, she desired him no longer, and cared less about sharing another night with him in bed. In fact, all of Asgoth now felt like a poison she couldn’t cure, not as the ‘Dark’ Queen at least, where all Asgothians admired her evil. What has happened to her to inspire such feelings of—love? Never before has her soul been so confounded. Nonetheless, she did have the power to make change, as it was written in past times, the King has his priorities and Rule, while the Queen hers, and the treatment of slaves was indeed left into her hands, except the tradition of ‘taking’ the males and females for sexual purposes, the oldest tradition the entirety of the city shared, and so she’d never attempted to interfere. But now, things were beginning to play out different. As Queen, she would establish new Rule regardless of the consequences. “Dear woman, I promise on this day, I will abolish all immoral acts against slaves, and forbid the use of the Gershom Pits, for as long as I am in power.”
A smile shone on her face, eyes now watering from happiness. “Thank you, dear Queen. There may be more good in you than you realize.”
“I am not good.”
“No. Yet, there is always forgiveness and time for change.” After saying these words she died, joyfully beside Talvenya.
“Rest in peace, dear child; because I know—I never shall.” She glanced toward Castle Volborg, quite a distance away, and gathered her thoughts, knowing what she must do.
CHAPTER NINE
THE CORRUPTER
Shortly before sunrise, Darshun awoke. Though he’d slept only a few hours, he felt rejuvenated and more alive than ever. It must have been the place, Ashhaven. For it’d been a real wonder to dwell in this city…his own former city. He made way downstairs, passing by Athanasius brewing a pot of tea and ventured outside.
The day before, while dinner was being prepared, his sister Minevara took him to his parent's graves. After he’d dreamt of them, he wanted to visit the gravestones a second time.
The cemetery was located northeast of the city, over a little wooden bridge above a stream, through a passing of gorgeous magnolia trees blooming white, red and pink flowers—by now the sun rose and the morning dew resting on the flowers reflecting light made one melt with passion—and finally into a meadow. Being how there weren’t many deaths among Elves the graves were few, making it easy to remember the location of his parents. There he stood, for who knows how long, staring down at the ground covering them, the grass dark green. At one with the earth, Elves bodies become part of the earth when they die, for they aren’t set into coffins or boxes, just the dirt—the earth itself to be precise to become part of it once again. His parents were buried in this same custom.
“They were wonderful people,” came a voice from behind, Minevara.
“Sister,” he said with a smile, surprised at her presence. Lost in thought, he hadn’t even heard her coming. “I’m sure they were.”
Minevara wore a loose gray tunic belted around the waist with a girdle and sword-in-sheath, thigh high black velvet boots and a dark blue headband just above her eyes. In her hand were two pretty red roses and she set them down over the graves next to the roses Darshun placed there yesterday. “Never, have I witnessed a couple more in love. I wish you could’ve seen them interact. I wish you could have met them.”
Though Darshun never met them, he’d seen them together in a dream. But instead of going into how he believed the dream was a real experience, he simply answered, “As do I.”
“So, what brings you here again?”
“Ah, I just wanted to pay my respects before setting off this morning. Why are you here?”
“Looking for you silly. Breakfast is being served as we speak.”
His eyes lit up. “It has been that long since I left Loinnrich Crann? Wow, I have been lost in thoughts.”
“I understand.” She gave him a tight hug.
It seemed tighter than Darshun expected and it almost cut off his circulation. In a way, she seemed a lot like him, a happy-go-luck kind of soul, loved life and the blessings it bestowed. Yet a dominant fire surged in her spirit.
“Darshun, my brother, with me at last! Still, I cannot believe it.” Her bay blue eyes teared up. “In my heart, I knew you were still alive and often have I wondered what you were doing. The things you and I missed, the things we could’ve done together—what we now can do together!”
"Similar thoughts entered my mind last night Minevara. Along with mother and father, what it must have been like to be with you all during childhood." Darshun felt tempted to engage in conversation about the day of their parent’s deaths. Minevara, after all, had been there. But he felt it wasn’t the time to bring up past tragedies, so he left well enough alone. "Then I find conflicting arguments against myself," he continued. "If the enemy had never taken me, I would not have come to know my adoptive father Mirabel, whom I love with all my heart. Neither would I have befriended Seth Caelen, Elwin Theodore and many others. Perhaps I wouldn’t even know I’m the Guardian of Prophecy. I wish our parents weren’t killed with all my soul I wish that sister. Though, I cannot regret my past.”
“Abidan’s hand was guiding you.”
“Hmm, another strange point, if that’s true th
en why could not he have spared mother and father? Not that he’s responsible. Though a little grace would have been nice to avoid their deaths. I probably speak foolishness.”
She sighed. “I understand completely Darshun. Our God of Light is mysterious beyond all. Many times have I been tempted to enter the sacred room Athanasius goes to speak with Abidan myself to ask him questions that seem unanswerable."
"Wait—what? You mean that room upstairs separated by the dark green curtains?"
"Mm-hmm, that’s the place Athanasius communicates with Abidan, spiritually through prayer, and physically as if the Lord of Light were seated beside him. If you saw him exit the room, you were probably wondering why his face shone radiant."
"Yesterday morning I witnessed that. It was—strange, to say the least."
"It's because of the presence of Abidan. When I asked if I could enter also, Athanasius strictly forbade me, claiming he was the only one permitted to speak with Abidan in such a way and under no circumstances any other. So, I gave up.”
“What would happen if you did enter?”
"I wondered the same thing but Athanasius read my thoughts and told me to not even think of such an act."
“…Probably a wise thing,” he agreed with a chuckle, though a knot remained in his belly from thinking otherwise. But what was the big issue? Where was the harm in wishing to literally hear Abidan's actual voice? To ask him questions about life the Wisemen cannot answer? It didn't make sense, unless of course Abidan might be too holy and mortal creatures— most of them, were not. Mystery, everything seems to be surrounded in mystery, every question, every answer.
"We should get going back," Minevara urged. "Are you ready or would you like more time?"
“No, I’m ready.” He bowed before each of the graves then turned around and took Minevara’s hand, smiling. “Let us go.”
