Innocence is a myth. All men have stained themselves in one way or another, even me. We have all lied, we have all cheated and we have all killed. To recognize that terrible truth is a feat of note, but to atone for one's sins? That is a feat of legend. Herek was a prince in his early days, drowning in excess of power and wealth. Then he awoke and he wept for his actions. For the money he could have fed his citizens with, and the excess that robbed him of his senses. He renounced his power and set off to atone. And atone he did. How can I?
The stars shone bright, rays of radiance piercing through the dark skies. The wind danced with the rays, whirling between them with a dancer's grace. It rushed forward like a herd of wild horses, proud and free. Over mountains, it traveled, snowy peaks and deep crevasses disappearing into the distance. Plains rustled under its onslaught and the oceans railed. Finally, it arrived in the domains of man, gathering their scents and sins. Iron blood and warm bread. Hot sweat and cold tears. In the distance a man stood on a hill, overlooking crowds of revelers, laughing as they drunkenly danced to the tune.
“More” he roared, “More wine. More women. More food. Let the party rage for eternity.”
The wind pounced upon him, drowning him in the majesty of the mountains, and the tears of the downtrodden. The blood of the damned and the sins of the mighty. The freedom of the plains and the chains of the prisons.
Herek, prince of Advat, fell from his perch, cast low by hints of reality piercing his armor of revelry. He was never the same.
Over the following months, I watched as the seeds of doubt planted by the wind were fed by brutal truth. Slowly but surely Herek slowly began to doubt the life he lived, and in response to that doubt, he threw himself into it with desperate passion, unwilling to let go of what had been his life for so long. It all came to its head on a cold windy night. The nobles partied with desperate fervor, striving to hide from brutal reality Herek was the most desperate of them all, throwing himself into the party like a criminal seeking to escape from the law. But no criminal can hide forever. That night the wind blew. Over the mountains and prairies, oceans and cities, it descended on Herek with vengeance. Surrounded by that twisting column of truth, Herek could no longer deny reality. He fell to his knees, tear streaming down his face,
“I repent!” he sobbed “I was wrong! I was so wrong.”
To him it was divine revelation, to me it was the bursting of a dam. The breaking of the veil of lies all humans tell themselves. They are all guilty, if they would just admit it. And on that night, Herek admitted it,
“I am guilty!” he cried “I saw the truth and I continued to hide. Continued to sin!”
Above him, the stars shone, but none so bright as Micheals. Perhaps that is what guided his next words,
“I have ruled instead of serving! I have closed my eyes instead of seeing. I have spoken instead of listening!”
He was a man on the brink of breaking, shattered by the revelation of his true self. I intervened. It would have been a shame for one who had truly seen his failures to fall like that. I stretched out my will and touched the wind surrounding him, bringing different aspects of it to the forefront. Laughs instead of tears. Life instead of death. Joy instead of tragedy. Those truths caressed Herek’s soul, keeping it from crumbling under the weight of its revelation. And accompanied by the winds of elation, he lifted his head in wonder.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Where I have brought death, I can now nurture life. Where I have brought blood, I can now bring laughter.”
He laughed himself then,
“It is not over! I can redeem myself. I can atone!”
He fell unconscious then, overwhelmed by his revelation.
The next morning he awoke, ready to face the task ahead, but unsure of how to do so. He donned a simple cloak and left the palace, wandering the streets of his capital, Advant. He opened himself up to truths he had run from for so long. They came to him in a never ending rush. The sickness of the people. The manure filled the streets. The smell of rot and death. He fell to his knees in the street, retching as he was once more overcome with the magnitude of his failure. He felt a gentle hand on his arm as he was slowly lifted back to his feet. Before him stood an old woman, bent and stooped with age, but with clear eyes.
“Are you ok, stranger?” she questioned.
“I…I don't know” Herek stuttered out.
She gazed at him with an unreadable look,
“Come with me.”
Herek followed her aimlessly through the streets, wincing at every starving child and injured worker.
At last, they arrived at a simple shack and the woman sat him in front of a fire and brought him tea. She sat across for him and watched as he finished his tea.
Then she said, “Speak.”
Herek broke and it all came spilling out. The life he had wasted and the people he had condemned. The wind and the terrible and wondrous things it had brought. His conviction to atone, and his uncertainty on how to do so. By the time he had finished the fire had burned low.
The woman gave him another of those unreadable looks and got more tea for him.
Then she started to speak,
“Doing good is much more simple than most think. It does not need to involve mythical quests to slay mighty beasts, or legendary feats like holding the sky up. If you want to do good, find a problem, and fix it.”
“What problems do I fix?”
She smiled at him,
“There are more than can be counted. Just look outside.”
She took his hand and guided him back into the streets.
“See the starving children and the unclean streets. The innocents dying of disease and the poor suffering from lack of education. All problems. All can be fixed”
They walked through the city finding more and more things to fix. Herek felt a deep sense of shame well within him as he truly saw how much he had neglected his people.
The old woman smiled wryly at him,
“I suspect you will have more of a problem with choosing which problems to tackle.”
Herek looked at her for a long moment, then kneeled at her feet.
“I do not have the words to express my gratitude. What can I do to repay this debt?”
“Do good. That is payment enough”
From that moment forward Herek never stopped doing good. His was a path forged not in a single moment, but rather through the sum of all his moments. He found problems, and he fixed them. And with every problem solved grew and changed. He left the world a better place, not through mighty feats of strength or immense cunning, but through hard work and dedication. And yet, legends were made of him all the same. Of a mighty king who single-handedly created roads and healed men. Taught children and comforted the old. In his final hours, surrounded by his family and loved ones, it finally came to him, the understanding he had spent so long pursuing,
“We are all guilty. But atonement is forever within reach.”
That night Herek au Advat, king of kings, servant of the people, passed away with a clean consciousness and a peaceful mind.
His legacy was pressed into the wind, an eternal reminder that when guilt crushes man, he always has a path to atonement.