Elven beds were incredible. Apparently, they were made from the downs of the very herons that strutted about outside, the mattress molding to his body shape and sucking away all the stress from him. Sleeping on a bed again was its own reward, and he awoke feeling well rested. They had eaten and caught up on things together, Zach explaining his newfound relationship with Rykaren, the dragon present but distant due to Selara’s enmity towards him. It was hard to see the cartoonish character as the great evil Selara claimed he was, but he did suppose it was foolish to let the creature’s charisma fully ensnare him. Still, with the Arcane Covenant formed and the dragon’s magic under his control, he had a hard time feeling anything but confidence in his safety.
Pevarin had not returned since the trial, likely being officially discharged from duty as a Lord of the Morning. It had been easy to forget in the chaos of things, but the man had tried to sell him out to Lucinder. Why? The strange thing was that he felt he could trust the elf, but he had still served as the catalyst for all of these events. Had he planned to take out Lucinder somehow? Perhaps he had already understood the power of the Sly One that Zach held, and was going to force it out somehow. The only way to know for certain was to ask him. His sleep was dreamless, and he thanked Jisaiyer in his mind for that as he walked to the window of the small tower he had been stowed away in. The elves didn’t have air conditioning, yet somehow it was unnaturally cool within the building compared to the outside air as he stuck his head outside, surveying the grounds.
He was at the east end of the general grounds of the unnamed city, town or whatever one might call this veritable confection of elven wonder. He frowned at himself. Had his thoughts become so verbose and prolix? Oh no, he thought to himself, I’m turning into a Charlotte Bronte novel. He abandoned the window and left the room, his gear having been whisked away to somewhere unknown. Inspecting himself as he tromped down the steps, he found his current equipment little more than vanity cosmetic gear. His equipped item level was likely not enough to even queue for raid finder, he realized with a grimace. The feeling of the biting, chafing leather and the constant weight of his sword and other affects had become comforting over the last month, and Zach missed the comfort of it about his body. He felt at his side, the wound undoubtedly scabbed over, but still a little tender. It was amazing what adrenaline could do, as he hadn’t even felt the pain of it, although he supposed Gloomfire’s healing did aid in that.
Zach stopped at the bottom of the steps, a ray of sunlight holding his skin warmly. Was...was he okay? So much had happened in so short a time, mentally and physically, and he hadn’t even had the time to really process all of it. He felt good. He did. Right? These feelings, the way he felt right now...it wasn’t all a mirage that would shimmer away if he poked it with a tentative finger? His vision started to blur slightly, a lone tear racing down his cheek before he smashed it in place, bringing his hand before his eyes to look upon its remains.
Why? Why couldn’t he just be happy?
It didn’t matter right now. He closed his fist upon it tightly and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, then letting it go slowly. That fire burned within him, borne of the frustration and anger of one who had suffered beyond the asking of what and why. The ghosts and fiends of his past still clung to him. Of that,, there was no doubt. He was not free of them yet, but he knew one day he would be. He let their chains unfurl and clang upon the ground behind him as he stepped outside, teeth grinding together and eyes aflame. He would use this pain. He was done letting it control him. Zach slipped on the smile, the mask once again before any else could see, proficiently, expertly. Just for a little while longer he would wear it. Just a little while longer.
The guards of his tower nodded towards him, and he returned it before striding off, sneezing as he passed a bush, glancing at it threateningly. Lord Elarome had said he would be summoned when they were ready for him, so he wasn’t sure quite what to do in the meantime. If he was back home, he’d just hop on his PC and boot up WoW or something and hop around in the capital city, or maybe do some Youtube Gaming and watch videos while he let the dopamine sing in his veins. Now it was just him and the elves that looked at him oddly, not quite sure what to make of this man that seemed more a zero than a so-called Hero. Zach looked out at one of the tables and actually recognized someone for once, the brothers Moon-something. He still thought of them as Thin and Thickmoon. Their demeanor had changed towards their end, or rather, their true frame of mind had been revealed. They weren’t as bad as he thought, and he felt nothing swirling about in his stomach at the thought of approaching them. Perhaps it was time to get some lore in for the day.
Zach hailed them as he approached, and Thinmoon, the nastier of the two, he remembered, gave him a polite nod, surprisingly. It was a small table, made for two, but another chair rose from the ground forged of leaves and bark. He doubted its ability to support him, but realizing that it was magical, he let himself drop upon it and, unsurprisingly, it held. He feared magic would soon become mundane to him, but honestly, he was vibing, so it was whatever.
“The Hero of Peratha!” said Thickmoon, embellishing the announcement. He chuckled softly at his own humor. “You honor us with your presence.”
“Yeah, no problem.” He said, frowning a little, “You guys really don’t believe in me, huh?”
“It’s nothing personal, Etelendi,” said Thinmoon.
“Zach.”
“Zachary,” he amended apologetically, “We told you our reasons. We didn’t do it out of spite. We work towards whatever is best for Kwinelyn. All of us do.”
“I see,” he said, fiddling with his hands. Extract information. That’s what he was here to do. He raised his eyes to them, the brothers waiting patiently, “Tell me about the Dawn-Shatterer. What exactly am I up against here?”
“I believe that is Elarome’s duty. I’ve no wish to speak of such nasty things in my free time,” said Thinmoon.
“Okay, what are your first names, just so I know?” he said, ignoring the awkwardness he felt.
Thinmoon blinked once, face neutral, then smiled, waving a hand at his brother. “That one is called Liuriyeth. I am Pulion.”
Lieuriyeth and Pulion. Did their parents just hit the “random” button when they were born? “Ok. Lieuriyeth and Pulion. Lieuriyeth is thinner but longer. Pulion is short and fat. I can do that.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Thickmoon, frowning in confusion and offense.
“Nothing. Anyways, yeah it’s Elarome’s duty to tell me, but I’m guessing he has to deal with that Parselion guy, right? I heard you mention that.”
Lieuriyeth chuckled, “Parselion is a city, Zachary. And yes, he is currently out making sure it holds against the tide of fiends assailing it.”
“I get that it’s not your job to help me help you,” he began, “but elves and humans are on different timetables. Just help me out here. Let me do what I can.”
“A human that cares for the plight of elves, I think that is a first,” said Lieuriyeth, musing to himself.
“Oh just tell the boy, brother,” said Pulion, waving a hand, “maybe then he’ll leave us to enjoy our day in peace.”
“Fine,” he sighed, and Zach relaxed, letting his shoulders drop. That was easier than he had expected, although what he had expected he had no idea. “The Dawn-Shatterer? Well, I trust you know something of it? The basics at least?”
He did, enough to guess, but he’d rather just have the full run-down, “No. Not really.”
“The Dawn-Shatterer is a primordial god, one of the four that shaped our world. His was the task of creation. He was the one who birthed life to the world.”
“Wait, huh?” he said, confused. That wasn’t how the typical creation story went. “I’m...so...huh?” So he created life and then...wanted to destroy it? Why?
“Yes. He was the most powerful of the original gods, and the one chosen for the most difficult task. They did restrict him from creating as he truly wished, however, binding his will ever so. For this, we assume is when the wish for dominion over all others was birthed. However, the very nature of the primordial gods was such that he could not have his wishes.”
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“How so? If he’s the strongest, doesn’t he just—I dunno, kill the others?”
“The primordial gods are bound to the world itself, Zachary,” said Pulion, shaking his head, “their essence, their bodies, their very being is the land, the sea, our existence—all of it. If he were to kill the others, or any other such direct confrontation, this world would break.”
“So what did he do? I assume the other gods are still alive, considering we’re here. And that the Dawn-Shatterer eventually got his wish, somewhat. Did they seal him or, like, what’s the deal?” That fit the typical story. Evil god, seal him, he does evil stuff until El Chosen One comes through predictably right as he’s on the verge of breaking free, yadda yadda.
“No one knows,” said Lieuriyeth, shrugging, “but he discovered a way to render the others of his kind impotent. From there, he begun corrupting the domains of the others, wishing to take their very essence for himself to design the world as he envisioned. That is when our ancestors discovered the force that we now call magic, wielding the power and sealing the god shut.”
“Until humanity learned magic and, seeking greater power, freed the Dawn-Shatterer,” said Zach, the lines connecting in his head. “Yeah, that sounds like us.”
Pulion nodded, and Lieuriyeth continued, “That is when we decided to retreat to Kwinelyn. We knew it was folly to fight the God of Creation without the knowledge our ancestors used to seal it-”
“Why the hell didn’t your ancestors—I dunno—write down how they did that, though?” he interrupted, unable to comprehend the sheer negligence.
Lieuriyeth was quiet a moment, then said, “We are not a perfect people, but we imagine ourselves so. That is the only defense I can give for such a blunder. Know that I, and countless others, have spent many a night wondering at the stars that very same question.”
Zach felt regret for his words, but was not ashamed. He was right to ask why. Still, he did feel bad. “Sorry, continue.”
The thin-browed elf nodded, then said, “The freeing of the primordial god mattered little, however, if he could not find a suitable avatar. Knowing that the vessel he desired would be among us, we urged humanity to flee Peratha, but they did not heed our words. That was because of the Prophecy of the Dawn.”
“Right, and that’s how the Emperor came to power, right? Pevarin—Tysendiel, he told me about that. So, you’re saying that all that needed to happen for the Dawn-Shatterer to fail was for everyone to just run?”
The elf winced at his words, “I would prefer to call it a retreat, but yes. That is all. Your kind, not wishing to abandon their homes, chose to fight knowing that they would have a Hero capable of stopping the god. The Prophecy was ill-timed, to our eyes,” he said, the words trailing, implicative of something.
“The Sly One,” said Zach, understanding finally coming, “you think the Sly One created this Prophecy? Created it just to validate the heroes he was going to conjure, created it to not just seal this primordial god...but kill it?” The full weight of their words, the meaning of it all dazed him. They had been right to be wary of Zach. The whole prophecy was a farce, it was so obvious. He was no hero. He was just a pawn. And how far ahead had this god planned, that he could orchestrate the death of one of the founding powers of the world?
“Wait,” he said, realizing something, “how did the Emperor kill the Dawn-Shatterer? Also, does it have a name? I’m kinda getting tired of saying Dawn-Shatterer.”
“It does, but I will not tell you, and you should not wish to learn,” said Lieuriyeth, “Names give power, in our world.”
“But you guys were fine saying Jisaiyer,” he said, not feeling any ominous wind or thunder-struck feeling at saying the name of the God of Paths, “Jisaiyer, Jisaiyer, Jisaiyer,” he said again, testing. Maybe he just needed to stand in front of a mirror and spin a few times.
“Jisaiyer is a noble god, and works towards our benefit. Empowering him only aids us,” said Pulion. Zach wondered why there weren’t people assigned to just say the names of the gods they liked all day. Seemed like free real estate. Maybe there was like, an ICD or something.
“You enjoy straying from the conversation too much, Zachary. This is why I hate conversing with humans,” said the thin-browed brother, shaking his head, “you waste time.”
“Yeah ok, sorry,” he said, “I won’t let us diverge anymore. Go on. The Emperor and the Dawn-Shatterer.”
“Yes. We don’t...understand, still, the power the Sly One has given to that man,” he said, hesitant, and more worrying, anxious as he talked about the man. How was he calm when speaking of a literal god but skittish about a person? “In fact, we were hoping to learn from you of what it is he might control.”
“Well,” he said, “if my theory and Jisaiyer’s is right, I can actually absorb the essence of other people. Perhaps more than that,” he said, thinking about all of the possible implications, “I’m a sponge, basically. Honestly, the Sly One kinda got me there.”
Lieuriyeth frowned, “I do not think that is what the Emperor wields. Interesting.”
“You don’t have an idea? Pevarin would know actually, wouldn’t he?”
“Doubtful. The Emperor was not nearly as f-open, as you are,” he said, smoothly covering his near-insult.
“You were just about to call me stupid, weren’t you?”
Pulion laughed, “Almost, but he recovered well, did he not?”
“Yeah,” he said, laughing, “Yeah, not bad bro. Not bad.”
“I am not your brother,” said Lieuriyeth, frowning. “that would be Pulion.”
“Hey, I could be a Puremoon. What was your mother’s name?”
“Tinarath Resilathian”
“Ok, well, my mom’s name is June, so that’s probably not her. She did tell me she had a wild phase in college, though.”
“College?” said Pulion, frowning, and he shared confused looks with his brother.
“Anyways, so we really have no idea what the Emperor did to get so strong that he could slay a god?” said Zach, a fell wind blowing through. It was silent for a moment as they all tried to avoid thinking of what such a portent meant. Names were powerful, but how could just calling him by his title invoke his presence? It was inconsistent, too. It was likely a coincidence.
“No. I have seen him in combat only once. It was...” Lieuriyeth faltered, speechless.
“What?” asked Zach, needing to know. Anything at all could be the difference when they one day met.
The elf shook his head. “The Crystal Grove send that you do not meet for many years.”
Pulion coughed politely and said, “I believe we were speaking of Parselion, brother.”
“Yes,” the other twin said, “Yes. Parselion,” the man shook his head, “It will fall. The question is only of how long.”
“Where is it?” he asked. He couldn’t just press “M” to open a map. He wasn’t even sure where they were relative to everything right now.
“Too far for you to help. Do not concern yourself with it. If you are to aid us in cleansing the land of the Dawn-Shatterer, your presence will be required elsewhere.”
“Egwyren mentioned that its corpse is what began the corruption. But also, how are we here if it’s dead? Why is its empty shell so strong?”
“I cannot answer the first. Only the Emperor and those who fought with him in the Hall of Creation would know what he did to separate its spirit from its physical avatar and prevent the world’s destruction. We have theories, but it matters little, in the end. As to the second, we have learned from analyzing its spawn that its very existence still spits forth life. It is woven into every fiber of its being.” They both ignored the wind this time.
“So the only way to cleanse Kwinelyn is to destroy the avatar,” he said, understanding. Simple enough, on paper at least. “I don’t suppose Pevarin was one of the people who fought with him?”
“No,” said Lieuriyeth, shaking his head, “I believe their relationship had begun to fracture. He took with him four men of great strength. However, you do now command the mount of one who fought alongside him.”
“The generals,” he said, cursing under his breath, “So Lucinder, and thus Gloomfire.” Lieuriyeth’s eyes swept past him, settling on something for a moment, and Zach turned. He wasn’t surprised to see Pevarin standing there, arms folded.
The exile nodded curtly to the brothers, then looked at Zach, “I see you are up and about.”
“I could say the same,” said Zach warily. Pevarin may have saved him at the trial, but that did not excuse his actions only perhaps a day earlier. “I take it Lord Elarome has discharged you from your duty?” Jesus, I sound like a character in an epic fantasy novel, he thought to himself.
Pevarin nodded, though he was not phased by the comment. “I am no longer a Lord of Morning, and neither is my daughter. Though, I haven’t thought of myself in that capacity for some time.”
He looked expectantly at Zach, and Zach hazarded a quick glance towards the other two elves, who only looked with amusement back at him. “Well, we were just talking about the...ruler of the United Empire. And the Dawn-Shatterer. Interesting things like that. Speaking of, you wouldn’t happen to know your old pal’s well-protected abilities, would you?”
“Old pal?” said Pevarin softly, his eyes flashing through a history unknown to Zach, and he regretted his blithe choice of words. “I know enough. Enough that for now, however strong you are, you are not yet able to challenge him. He never did tell me what power the Sly One granted him, but it is something unnatural. Something that perverts space and time.”
“And you taught him magic,” said Pulion, “and not just magic. Elven magic. Just as you did the girl.”
“And I would again. What of it?”
“Nothing,” said Pulion, shrugging, “A fault of my own. It should not surprise me that the Apostate of the Dawn exhibits such flagrant disregard of his ancestry, such that he debases himself openly, freely.”
Pevarin smiled cruelly, “At least I had the courage to do something, you spineless fool.” The exile turned to Lieuriyeth, “And what say you? Still too cowed to step out from behind your brother’s shadow? You spoke of coming, of aiding me in the fight. But where were you, Lieuriyeth? Where are you now?” The accused dropped his eyes, Pulion steaming behind him.
Man, only elves could piss off other elves so easily. Zach felt distinctly uncomfortable. It was as if caught in the midst of an awkward family reunion. He started inching out of the confrontation, but Pevarin caught him with his gaze and shook his head. “I have nothing more to say to these two. May the Crystal Grove send you wisdom, for the gods know you need it.” Pevarin turned to walk away, giving Zach a look that said, “We need to talk.”
Talk talk talk. He just wanted to go back to fighting, at this point. Couldn’t people do two things at once?
“Emperor, Emperor, Emperor,” he whispered, curious to see what would happen. Nothing. No wind or anything. Pevarin set off, and he followed him. He wasn’t afraid of this guy, this Joe Blow from his world that had lucked himself into being the ruler of Peratha. He had one thing that that guy didn’t have.
Plot armor.