Chapter 208

Wherefore the Gods of Man Weep

Ghastly arms numbered in millions, all stretching out from within the darkened void, lumbering with vile intent. They were clawing at him, breaching past the membrane of reality, slithering up and down his skin, shaking and stirring his soul. And upon their terrible palms, he saw faces emerge like ghosts clawing out of thin layers of skin. Faces of pain, faces of agony, faces beyond distorted–inhuman. They were screaming, roaring, crying, weeping, and suffocating. They were horrid, paintings of hell borne to life before his very eyes.

But the screams were silent–their voices unheard. Their suffering hidden in the sudden fan of otherworldly flames. They burst from a tiny kindle into a perfect wheel, one that rotated in rhythmic sequences, consuming the world in the halo of light and, with it, all the arms and all the faces upon the palms and all the expressions that he would never forget.

Valen woke up screaming and shaking, covered in sweat from head to toe. He was alone, in a dark room lit by a single candle. It took him a moment to recognise the reality, and that fleeting moment later… he broke. A scream erupted from his throat that set his lungs ablaze, and he began madly thrashing about on the bed, unsuccessfully trying to move the legs made of lead. But they were unneeded–he clawed out of the bed and fell down onto the wooden floor, still screaming. Just as he was about to reach for the dagger resting upon the nearby cupboard, a pair of gentle arms suddenly held him up as warm and loving energy flowed into him.

His tears began to dry as his reddened eyes turned to the side where he saw the white-haired woman pull him up lithely and put him down onto the bed. She had a sombre yet calming expression, corners of her lips curled up into the faintest of smiles. His unwound mind healed a bit, for a moment, but memories surged back. Just as the cracks began to spread yet again, the holistic energy patched them as though with mortar.

“... was she telling the truth?” Valen asked, his voice cracking and shaking. “That child.”

“Yes,” Asha replied softly, sitting up on the bed by his side and caressing his hair gently. “But only in pragmatics.”

“What else is there?!!” he screamed. “I–I am still responsible! I–”

“No,” despite his outburst, she remained calm–like a stone wall blasted away by a belated tide. “You are not responsible for anything, Valen. The King and the Queen made the deal, putting up the heads of their subjects as the sacrifice. You merely lived out their own blinded tale.”

“...” despite the words sounding comforting, Valen didn’t feel that comfort. He felt anger. Pain. Regret. More anger. A thousand things swirling together in a mass of emotions that seemed incapable of ever unravelling from the tangled web they’ve become.

“It’s fine,” Asha said as the gentle energy surged within him. “Rest, for now. Rest…”

Outside, sprawled on the table, the important figures that Sylas ordered stayed behind were all fast asleep. No, to call it sleep was a lie–they were all in a perfect blackout. Every time they woke up and saw the ashen ruins of the capital, they resumed drinking. That was their healing paste, and Sylas simply observed them. The only one who didn’t indulge in it, surprisingly, was Ryne. The young girl stayed silent, though to call her calm would also be quite a lie.

Sylas walked up to her and sat by her side. Though she was alerted to his presence, she barely moved, merely lowering her head slightly. Her eyes had ‘healed’ by now, the surface wounds covered up with thick scars. But despite them, she was still beautiful–harrowingly beautiful, but beautiful nonetheless.

“... will you leave us, now?” she suddenly asked, causing him to glance at her as he opened up a bottle of wine.

“What makes you say that?” he asked back.

“It makes sense.”

“It does?”

“You came from the seeming nowhere and did the seeming impossible,” she said. “All stories like that always end the same way.”

“... do you want me to stay?” he asked softly.

“... no,” she replied after a few moments, shaking her head. “I… I know that the rest is upon us.”

“You’ve fallen really bad for that brat, haven’t you?” Sylas chuckled as Ryne’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly. “He’ll need you now more than ever, Ryne.”

“... what can I even do for him?” she mumbled.

“Everything,” he replied without hesitation. “Everything that matters, anyway. He’s a strong kid, just like you. But now he’s floating aimlessly and he needs a bedrock. Something to land upon that won’t let him go.”

“Did you know this would happen?” she asked suddenly. Though she was unable to see, she roughly grasped the situation.

“This? No,” Sylas replied honestly. “I knew that there would be a price to pay… but, in all honesty, I thought I’d be the one paying it. Rather, I was hoping I’d be the one paying it.”

“Why would you pay for it?”

“Because children shouldn’t be the ones paying the price of the mistakes of the old men and women,” he replied. “But… horrid though it may be, that is the nature of life. Old and dying leave in their wake the sufferings that the young end up living out. While the King and the Queen went ahead, smiling in the face of something they considered a holy victory, they left behind the youngs that will die without ever fully recovering from it. Such is the nature of the world.”

“You aren’t like that.”

“Hmm,” Sylas chuckled lightly at the words. “I’m happy you think so, at least.” Just then, the footsteps alerted Ryne to a new presence as Asha walked up to them and sat down. “He woke up?”

“For a moment,” Asha replied.

“How… how is he?” Ryne asked tenderly.

“... hanging in there,” Asha replied vaguely. “How about you?”

“Hanging in there.”

“Clever.”

“I try.”

“You should also go and rest,” Sylas said. “There won’t be any nightmares. I promise.”

“... no. Let them be,” Ryne said as she stood up. “There can’t be any worse than reality at this point.”

The young girl walked away slowly, grasping away with her arms to make sense of the dark world around her. Her figure appeared ever so slightly smaller than before, as though the weight of everything had pressed her down closer to the ground. Sylas sighed, taking a sip of wine as the burning sun began to set behind the distant mountains.

“I didn’t know either,” Asha said. “For what it’s worth. I knew there’d be a sacrifice, but…”

“I’ve made you quite humane, it seems,” Sylas chuckled as the two locked their gazes.

“... you just reminded me,” she replied with a smile. “I’ve always been human, Sylas. All of us have. No, that’s the wrong way to word it. All sentient things, human and otherwise, are the same. We feel, though echoes of those emotions tend to fade with time.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sylas said, looking at the ashen wasteland. “I barely feel a thing… and the thing I do feel is the one I force myself to feel.”

“... you have taken in this whole thing rather marvellously,” she said as she moved over to his bench, lying down and resting her head onto his laps, her face looking up. “You have me fearing your body has been snatched.”

“The only thing that ever snatched me is you.”

“So, I’m a thing now?”

“What else are you?” he looked down. “You’re too beautiful to be human, but too human to be eldritch.”

“What a strange way to grade a person. What are you, then, in that equation?”

“... a parasite latched onto the teets of his mama?”

“...”

“...”

“That might genuinely be the most disgusting thing you’ve ever said.”

“I’ve said many disgusting things.”

“You don’t have to brag about it.”

“What else have I got?” he smiled. “I can’t write poems, I can’t tell stories, I can’t create clever sayings, can’t espouse philosophies… all I’ve got left is my ability to form sentences so disgusting that they leave a cosmic creature stumped for that brief moment.”

“Ah, fair enough,” she said. “I’ll let you have it.”

“Much obliged.”

“... were we always this good at saying a lot yet virtually nothing?” she quizzed after a few moments of silence.

“I was. You learned,” he replied. “I’m fairly certain we are dapper professionals right now.”

“You shouldn’t sound so proud about it. There’s nothing good with that.”

“I vehemently disagree. I–”

“We’re doing it again.”

“... would you rather sneak away and go to town with each other?”

“Haah,” she sighed heavily. “Never mind. You are banned from ever uttering disgusting things.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”