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Crashing waves.
Crying gulls.
Darkness.
Pain.
So much pain.
What happened?
Where was he?
Who was he?
He tried to move. His fingers barely twitched.
Salt and copper on his tongue.
Wet sand under his cheek.
Was he alive? Dead? Dying?
Did it matter?
He drifted as the waves around him pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled, tugging at his clothes and hair. Had the sea delivered him to land only to claim him again?
He felt, for what could have been the very first time, a stab of primal fear. He didn't want to die.
The darkness drew closer. The pain grew fainter. It seemed he didn't have a choice…
"Oh my goodness!"
The stranger's voice had him jolting awake. He groaned, throat raw, tongue dry. The pain returned tenfold, as though his flesh was being burned from his bones.
A muffled thud as something heavy hit the sand.
"Are you...?" The voice was much closer. "Oh! Oh dear! HELP! Somebody help!"
Suddenly the crashing waves and crying gulls were completely drowned out by footsteps and voices.
"Is that... the High Priest?!"
"You, get Chemmel!"
"What happened to him?"
"Those look like burns, but..."
"Look at his eyes, that can't be good."
"Someone send a message to the Capital, the King will want to know."
"Here's the stretcher. Alright everyone careful now, on the count of three-"
Agony.
When the waves rose again he didn't fight them.
He felt like... an apple.
An apple drifting in an endless inky sea. Helpless. Hopeless. A meaningless speck at the mercy of the tides.
Voices murmured, muffled by the waves. Sometimes he would rise enough to hear words, things like 'dark magic', 'backlash', 'mana burns'.
"...his eyes?" asked a voice that was almost familiar.
"Too early to say," came the reply.
Then he'd be swallowed back beneath the surface, sinking into oblivion.
Time passed in fragments of awareness. The distant cry of seagulls, the melodic voice at his bedside, the cool water and bitter medicine dripping down his throat.
Until at last Xernes awoke.
He lay still for a moment, calmly taking stock. He still felt extremely sore, as if a Master Carpenter had taken sandpaper to the majority of his skin, but it was a relief compared to the searing agony from before.
He was on his back in bed, in his own room judging by the feel of the covers and the familiar smell of old books and magic. He was practically mummified in bandages, keeping a firm, steady pressure around his arms, legs, chest and head. He couldn't open his eyes.
Someone was in the room with him.
A page turned. A throat cleared. A voice began to read.
"I dreamt of night that would not-"
"Ranoah," Xernes rasped.
Silence.
"Aeshan. You're awake," Ranoah said softly.
"Very astute, your Majesty."
A quiet huff of laughter.
Xernes tried to wet his lips. His tongue felt like a strip of dried meat in his mouth.
"Here."
A hand lifted his head. A cool metal cup touched his lips. Sweet fresh water soothed his throat.
"Is that better?" Ranoah asked, sitting back once Xernes drank his fill.
"Why are you helping me?" Xernes asked.
He heard a quiet clink, probably Ranoah fiddling with his earrings like he always did when he was nervous.
"You're injured."
"Don't be obtuse," Xernes scoffed, too tired to be truly angry. "I tried to end your life. Your kingdom. Your precious baby sister. Why show me even a shred of kindness?"
"You were my friend."
That made Xernes laugh, a sharp and bitter sound.
"I was never your friend."
A slow sigh.
"Rest," said Ranoah. "We'll talk more when you've regained your strength."
A page turned. A throat cleared. Ranoah began to read.
"I dreamt of night that would not end,
So full of fiend and void of friend..."
Xernes drifted away.
He did begin to regain his strength, but it was a slow and faltering process. Xernes ought to have healed by now, even weakened by his defeat, but his body remained fragile and frail.
The Life Master Alchemist visited daily at first, supplying potions and changing his bandages, but seemed just as puzzled as Xernes.
"I'm sorry, High Priest Aeshan," he said, "I've never seen injuries like these before."
Xernes only grunted in response. It wasn't as though he could tell anyone the truth of what had happened, not while he was still so vulnerable.
He shuddered at the memory of that accursed gear tearing him, his plans and his world apart.
Days passed in darkness as Xernes' eyes remained too delicate to uncover, but little by little his body improved. Soon enough he was able to sit, stand and walk again, albeit with difficulty.
But his power did not return.
It was as if his magic had been injured along with his eyes. He tried to reach for it instinctively, only to find feeble embers where a beacon of power once lay. He had never been so weak before, even as a child.
A thought struck Xernes like a hammer made of ice.
'Am I mortal now?'
Stripped of his divinity, forced to rely on those he tried to destroy... It sounded like something the gods would do.
But no, he refused to accept defeat. He had waited for a thousand years, he could wait a little longer.
So he continued to use his magic. Even though he could do little more than tug a few paperback books around. Even though it made him feel dizzy and sick. He would recover. He had to.
Ranoah came in the evenings to read. By that time Xernes was too exhausted to protest.
I told the dark it could not be,
And searched for ways I might be free.
It didn't take long for the rage that had been simmering beneath the surface to reach boiling point.
Days, maybe weeks of waiting and still his magic guttered and gasped like a candle in the wind, a mere fraction of what it used to be. Xernes forced himself from his bed, pain eclipsed by an all encompassing rage.
He kicked his chairs to the floor. He tore his alter apart. He ripped his books from their shelves and threw them across the room.
It was a relief to finally vent his frustrations. Anger was good. Anger was familiar. Anger had sustained him for a thousand years and would do so for a thousand more.
It was only as he was snapping the delicate bars of a birdcage under his heel that Xernes realised what he'd done. That he'd effectively thrown a tantrum like a a human child. That he'd gained nothing, and lost…
Why would a god need worldly possessions? It would all fade to dust one way or another, why care if it was today or centuries from now?
Xernes picked up the damaged birdcage. Righted his chairs. Set up his alter. Collected as many books as he could find and put them back on the shelves.
Ranoah arrived in the evening as he always did. For a long moment he stood in the doorway, not moving or speaking.
"Aeshan," he said softly, "are you alright?"
Something in Xernes snapped. He grabbed one of the plant pots he'd just put back on his alter and threw it as hard as he could, hearing it shatter against the wall.
"That is not my name!" Xernes roared.
Measured breathing. Footsteps crunching on broken pottery. Ranoah, inexplicably, came closer.
"Xernes," he said softy, "are you alright?"
Xernes swallowed thickly. His chest felt strange, as if his bandages were too tight.
"Yes," he spat. "Why are you here, what do you want?"
"To read," said Ranoah.
Xernes let him.
I beat my fists against the shroud,
I screamed and swore, I begged and vowed.
Xernes ran his fingers over the covers of his books, mapping out letters of the embossed titles and names. Many were discarded without a second thought, but others held considerable promise.
Years of knowledge accumulated by the greatest minds in Reveria.
Mortal minds, yes, but mortals had been known to tap into power far greater than their own. A mere brush against the grander cosmos, jotted hastily in a footnote, might be the very key Xernes needed.
A spark, to ignite a furnace.
He would regain his power. He might have to start at the beginning, the Fledgling he had never been, but he would do it. He had to.
And when he did…
Xernes pondered for a moment where he knelt on the floor, running his fingers up and down the spine of the book in his hand.
Melodies of Mysteria, read the title. Certainly not a subject Xernes had chosen for himself.
A memory rose, unbidden - warm sunlight on his back, hot stone beneath his feat, small hands pressing the book into his own.
"Brother says you like to read." The girl's voice dropped into a whisper. "Don't tell him, but I actually didn't like this one very much. I think you'll enjoy it more!"
Had he enjoyed it?
Xernes didn't remember.
Melodies of Mysteria went on the useful pile. Perhaps a Leafe had discovered something worthwhile.
Ranoah arrived exactly when Xernes expected, as precise and predictable as clockwork.
"Read these to me," Xernes commanded, tapping the top of the pile.
Ranoah didn't speak at first, but Xernes could hear him picking a book off the stack and flicking through.
"Alright," said Ranoah, a tone in his voice that Xernes didn't bother trying to decipher.
He would spare Ranoah, Xernes decided. Probably Rem too, since her brother was so fond of her. A fair exchange - in fact it was more than fair, considering the grief that girl had put him through.
Ranoah read, and Xernes listened with rapt attention.
Soon. He would have his power soon.
I tried to offer tokens true,
A pair of coins to pay my due.
Weeks. Maybe months.
Time bled into itself.
An endless cycle.
Helpless.
Hopeless.
Years of knowledge accumulated by the greatest minds in Reveria.
Worse than useless.
Devastating.
Celestia, the Life Goddess, had also lost her divinity - sacrificed it for the sake of ungrateful humans.
She was worshipped. Loved.
That love had not been enough to save her.
Abandoned by the gods, cast from the Starlight Garden, stripped of her divinity and forced into exile for daring to enact her own will on the world.
It seemed obvious in hindsight that Xernes would suffer a similar fate.
That Xernes' power would not return.
He lay in bed, too drenched in apathy to move. Why should he? What would he accomplish? He was nothing now, his chance wasted, his existence squandered. He didn't even feel angry. Only tired.
But sleep provided no relief, his dreams a meandering maze of figments and memories. A dragon, a crow, a girl, fading into a pool of pitch.
"Xernes?"
Ranoah stood at his bedside.
"What's wrong?" he asked anxiously. "Did something happen? Are you in pain?"
Xernes sighed, slow and heavy.
"What would you do if I recovered my power and tried to end your world again?"
"I would stop you," said Ranoah.
"And what will you do if I never recover and never regain my sight?"
"I will read to you," said Ranoah.
"Why?" Xernes whispered. "Why help me at all? I will never repay you. I will never even thank you."
Ranoah was silent for a moment.
"I am your king," he said, "and you are my subject."
Xernes smirked. A better answer than last time at least.
"And," Ranoah murmured, "you are my friend."
Xernes had nothing to say to that.
Ranoah sat down and started to read.
But in the end t'was all for naught,
You cannot break the curse you wrought.
Crashing waves.
Crying gulls.
Darkness.
Pain.
But not as bad as before.
Xernes stood outside at the back of the Palace, leaning against the stone wall, salted air stinging his healing wounds. He had always preferred this place to the hustle and bustle of the market. Here it was peaceful. Private.
For Xernes.
The wind carried whispered words, quiet confessions uttered under the veil of secrecy that were never supposed to reach him.
But Xernes' ears had always been sharper than most.
"Did you hear, darling?" said a man. "It turns out High Priest Aeshan was behind some of the strange disturbances."
"What?" said a woman, sounding scandalised. "No way!"
"Yeah, apparently he was meddling with dark magic of some kind."
"I can't believe he'd do something like that! I mean what was he thinking?"
Xernes scoffed under his breath. Here it came, the judgement, the hatred.
"Well, the King said he had a bit of a breakdown. Too much stress, you know?"
"Oh, that makes sense - I remember you saying he was always working on some project or another, running all over Mysteria."
"I swear he never slept! But yeah, that's why he's out of action, it backfired and hurt him pretty bad I hear."
"The poor thing…"
"But that's why me and the other priests are working extra hard! He needs to rest and recover without worrying about work."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"You know what, I bet he'd really appreciate some of your apple pie right now. You know what type of mush those Alchemists like to feed people!"
"Of course honey, I'll get baking right away!"
Xernes didn't understand. Why were they sympathetic? Even without the whole story, they knew he'd been causing trouble for them. Surely the priest at least would see his actions as a betrayal.
Footsteps. Wing beats. Xernes tightened his grip on the stone wall.
"There you are!" Rem said cheerfully. "I knew you'd be hiding back here."
"Am I on house arrest now?" Xernes asked bitterly. His sentence had yet to be read, but it was only a matter of time.
"Of course not, silly," said Rem, "but Brother worries about you."
"Fool," Xernes muttered.
"Yeah," Rem said fondly. She took a deep breath of the ocean air and let it out with a contented hum. "I understand why you like it out here, it's very peaceful."
Xernes could hurt her. Grab her arm, throw her over the wall, grab her dragon too and break its wings.
He didn't.
"Hey. Xernes."
She was suddenly much closer, hand resting lightly on his arm. So lightly it didn't even hurt.
"I forgive you," Rem said softly, "and I think you should forgive you, too."
Xernes didn't know what to say. He expected her to be angry. She was supposed to be angry. He didn't know what to do with her kindness.
"You're as big a fool as your brother," he muttered, but the words lacked bite.
Crashing waves.
Crying gulls.
Xernes remembered the way the ocean glittered. He hoped he'd be able to see it again someday.
Rem was a fallen god too. Exiled, abandoned, forced into a human shell. And yet she was happy. Fulfilled. Not mired in hatred like Xernes.
He let her lead him back to his room.
Ranoah was waiting for him. Xernes heard his soft sigh of relief - relief that he hadn't caused any trouble, no doubt.
"You lied to your subjects about me," Xernes said once Rem was gone. His mouth twisted into a smile. "And here I thought you were trying to be a good king."
"Sometimes, being a good king means choosing the lesser evil," Ranoah said evenly.
Xernes' smile became a sneer. "The lesser evil would have been putting me to death."
A measured breath. "That's not true," said Ranoah.
"What would you have chosen?" Xernes needled. "Sword? Poison? A good old fashioned beheading?"
"Xernes-"
"Or perhaps something far more creative - burned by magma, drowned in acid, torn apart by monsters in the Colosseum-"
"Xernes-!"
"-or why not try returning me to whence I came and sacrifice me to the gods?"
"Enough!" Ranoah snapped, and Xernes felt a smug stab of pleasure at having rattled him at last. Weak willed and soft, unable to face the horrors wrought by his own kind, that was the Ranoah Xernes knew.
The seconds ticked by. Ranoah fiddled with his earring.
"Xernes," he said, shockingly gentle, "do you want to die?"
The question left Xernes stunned. Did he want to die? Who would ever want to die? Why would he possibly want to die? Xernes was a god, no matter how far he'd fallen; the thought had never even crossed his mind.
"Of course not," said Xernes, but the words felt oddly hollow, the question still echoing in his mind.
He nearly had died, hadn't he? Before he was found on the beach. And for a moment in the midst of the confusion and pain, those waves of darkness crashing over him had felt...
Ranoah gave that small relieved sigh again. "I'm glad," he said simply.
Xernes spent the evening alone, pacing slowly up and down his room. The day's events had given him much to think about.
Ranoah, steadfast in his kindness. Rem, unflinching in her forgiveness. The priest and his girlfriend, working hard to support him.
…The apple pie was really good.
So lost in pitch and all alone,
I had no choice but to atone.
Snip.
Snip.
Snip.
"Nearly done, Mister Xernes," said Chemmel.
Snip.
Snip.
Fabric fell away.
"Alright, I'm taking them off now. Tell me if you need me to stop."
A gentle tug against the skin of his face. It stung, but not unbearably.
"Try opening your eyes."
Slowly, cautiously, Xernes cracked his eyelids open.
His room was dim, lit only by a cluster of candles by his bedside so Chemmel could work, but even that small amount of light had Xernes immediately clenching his eyes shut again.
"Give it a moment," Chemmel encouraged, "you need to adjust."
One minute.
Two minutes.
Xernes opened his eyes.
His left was completely blind, revealing nothing except for a pitch black void no matter how much he blinked.
But his right…
The room slowly came into focus. His alter, crooked. His books, disordered. His birdcage, broken.
Ranoah. Smiling.
He seemed... different somehow. Not older - he'd barely changed - but wiser.
Chemmel spent the next few minutes carefully examining Xernes' eyes. The left, as he'd suspected, was probably a lost cause, but the right showed promise of further improvement. Xernes found himself smiling.
At least until his saw his hands.
Blue-black scarring stained his skin. Even in the low light it looked ghastly, rough mottled patches like decay, like rot.
"I'm sorry," said Chemmel, sounding genuinely remorseful. "I did the best I could, but they didn't respond to the salves like I'd hoped."
"Give me a mirror," Xernes ordered.
"I'm not sure if-"
"Now, Chemmel."
Xernes didn't consider himself vain. He wasn't like that type of human who wasted years of their lives preening in front of a mirror.
But seeing the scars... the rot... surrounding his eye, tugging at his lip, eclipsing half his face...
Gods were supposed to be beautiful.
But he wasn't a god anymore, was he?
"There are cosmetics you can try," Chemmel was saying. "Or some people prefer masks. Others use a type of glamour spell-"
"No." Xernes swallowed. Took a breath. Began again. "No thank you, Chemmel. There is no need."
Chemmel left him some of the makeup anyway. Xernes stared at the row of little bottles as Ranoah pulled his usual chair to Xernes' bedside and sat down, hands clasped.
"You look fine to me," he said.
"I didn't ask," Xernes snapped. Breathed through his teeth. "But thank you," he muttered.
Ranoah cleared his throat.
"I need to talk to you... but first, I wanted to give you this."
He held out his hand, offering something.
Xernes took it.
A feather.
A soft, black, feather.
Xernes took a short, sharp breath. "Where did you-?"
"The Heroes of Time." Ranoah smiled crookedly. "They said it seemed important to you."
Xernes looked at the feather. Looked at Ranoah. Looked at the feather again.
"What is the meaning of this?" he snarled, but he wasn't angry, not really, he was... He didn't know how he felt.
"Xernes." Ranoah clasped his hands again. Straightened his back. Sat in his chair as though it were his throne. "I am giving you a choice."
Xernes narrowed his eyes. "Are you now."
Ranoah ignored his remark.
"The world you desired does exist," he said, and it felt as though the air had been punched from Xernes' chest. "A world without humans, only beasts and monsters. It resides in a reality beside our own, separate but not unreachable. If you so wish it, the Heroes of Time will take you there and you will be free to live your life as you see fit, in exile but in peace."
Xernes realised he was crushing the feather. He released it and carefully smoothed it down.
A world without humans... the world he had dreamed of, fought for, thought he had lost forever...
"And the other option?" he asked, voice shaking ever so slightly.
Ranoah looked away, his eyes growing distant.
"I've been thinking," he said softly, "about what it means to be a king. I have learned much over this last year, and it has taught me that I actually know very little. I need to remedy this if I am to become the ruler Mysteria deserves."
"How does that concern me?" Xernes asked.
Ranoah looked at him again. "The Heroes of Time have told me of the future, of the three great kingdoms Al Maajik, Port Puerto, and Castel. I am to travel there, to learn what I can... and you may join me, if you wish."
"Join you," Xernes repeated slowly, "in the future."
Then he laughed.
"And here I was expecting imprisonment at the very least!"
Ranoah's eyes hardened. "Do not think I will let you do as you please, Xernes. I will be watching you at all times, and if you attempt so much as stealing an apple your punishment will be swift, severe and irrevocable. But-" Ranoah softened slightly, "-you will be able to travel and learn, perhaps even find a way to restore your magic."
Xernes looked at the feather.
"I need think."
Ranoah nodded once, and stood. "You have three days."
He didn't stay to read.
Xernes thought. About gods, humans and monsters. About hatred, forgiveness and love. About books, potions, and apple pie. About black crows, broken cages, and girls with kind, knowing eyes.
Three days passed, and Xernes made his decision.
He stood in his room, adjusting his robes. Plain white now that he was no longer High Priest, the dull attire of a lifeless Brand New, but oddly apt in their symbolism.
His scars stood starkly against the fabric. No mask, no makeup. They would see him as he was.
One last check and he picked up his bag, a light leather satchel holding little more than some money, some potions and some books. He wore his feather on a string around his neck, tucked close to his heart.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Xernes opened his door and stepped into warm, bright sunlight.
Ranoah was already by the stairs, his back to Xernes, talking to Rem.
"...Mira will be here to help," he was saying, "and don't be afraid to call on the Life Masters. Also-"
"Hi Xernes!" Rem called, bouncing on her toes.
Ranoah turned. He looked considerably different without his crown, dressed in commoners' travelling clothes and carrying a bulky pack on his shoulders, but still regal in the way he held himself with calm, quiet confidence.
"Xernes," he said with a smile, "are you ready?"
Xernes nodded. "After you, your Majesty."
Rem giggled as she hopped down the steps, almost losing her crown. "Aren't I 'your Majesty' now?"
"You're only regent," Ranoah huffed. "I'll be back before you know it."
The Royal Guard escorted them down to the very edge of the capital. It seemed all of Mysteria had arrived to see them off, and the streets were packed with people.
Many gasped or winced when they saw his face, his scars, but Xernes walked with his head held high. Let them stare. Let them judge. Let them feel pity, and sorrow, and sympathy for him, even if he didn't deserve it.
A group of children approached just before the bridge, all scuffed knees and smudged noses.
"We picked these for you!" a boy said excitedly, holding up a bag of apples. "So you don't get hungry on your trip."
"You have my deepest gratitude," said Ranoah, "you must have worked very hard for them."
"I'll say!" a girl chirped, waving a wooden sword with glee. "We had to fight Woolys, and Tropica Toads, and Red Wolves, and the Nap Dragon-"
"You'll make an excellent Paladin one day," said Ranoah. The girl beamed at him.
Ranoah looked at his pack, then sheepishly at Xernes. "Sorry, would you mind?"
"Of course not, your Majasty." Xernes tucked the apples into his bag.
"You don't need to call me that anymore," Ranoah said softly as they crossed the bridge. "It's just Ranoah, now."
"I would never disrespect you in front of your subjects," Xernes said with a smirk.
Ranoah just rolled his eyes.
Their transportation waited a little ways beyond the bridge - the Heroes of Time themselves, on the back of the great Bone Dragon. It growled irritability as Xernes approached, but didn't attempt to attack him.
The blue bird however zipped down, hovering in front of his face.
"Don't you try any funny business!" it warned. "One wrong move and I'll personally pummel you to pieces!"
"I assure, noble warrior, that Ranoah has me completely under control," Xernes said dryly.
"Hmmmm." The bird inspected him a moment longer, beak almost touching Xernes' nose.
"Alright then!" it declared, and fluttered away to perch on the dragon's head.
"Shall we?" said Ranoah.
A hop, a jump, and they were on board.
"Goodbye!" Rem called, Growler rumbling in harmony. "Good luck and stay safe!"
"Goodbye Rem!" Ranoah replied. "Don't forget to check the imports, or sign those missives, or eat your vegetables-"
"HEY!"
"Goodbye," Xernes whispered.
The dragon took off, carrying them high into the sky. It circled once, twice, and Xernes stared at the sight of Mysteria laid out like a map before him, at all the upturned faces watching with awe and delight, before the portal opened and the dragon glided through.
Taking them safely to another place, another time.
Ranoah took his hand.
"Thank you," he said softly.
"Hm. Well." Xernes looked at the glittering sea. "You are my friend."
And maybe humans were worth another chance.
Hark!
I saw a spark,
Burning bright against the ceaseless dark.
Aye!
There came a cry,
That spoke to me of blue and brilliant sky.
The noose around my neck at long last broke,
From deep and cloying slumber I awoke,
As morning's veil adorned my weary eyes,
The warm and wondrous sun did fin'ly rise.
The End