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Apathy
Apathy [S3_21] Choices

Apathy [S3_21] Choices

Garbanel von Mereloy

If he had to point out one thing that brought him his biggest displeasure, he would have to say it would be waiting. Long unproductive spans of time spent on nothing but waiting brought endless frustration. Combined with seasonal lull of activity during winter made him pace back and forth between a shelf that held his long-range scribe and the window of his office. Neither of which provided any distraction.

Had he made a mistake? Sending those idiots on such important mission… but it had to be done. A small sacrifice given the opportunity. He had saved himself the trouble of sending his dwindling troops after another cult lord and he had saved a city. Had her core come to burst inside Fenira, without a doubt, the entire cape would perish. But then again, a true godsend she had been.

Karin.

Once more Karin.

Once more at the right time.

And once more, not what he expected but perhaps, just what he needed?

How could it be? A coincidence? Was his memory failing him? No. He would never forget that face, those lips, those eyes… yet she did not recognize him. Had she merely chosen to pretend, feign ignorance of their past…

No. For all he wished it, that could not be her. That could not be the one.

Could it be a coincidence then? A distant relative? A twin? Perhaps. That sometimes happened but think such faithful semblance of ~her~ would come and haunt him at this precise time.

Gleaming light of sister moon draped in a puffy veil of misty clouds stroke his face from starry sky. How long had he stood there? His breath frosted all over the crystal pane of his office window. All those memories. It felt a world apart. Perhaps he should…

“That is not a fray worth following.”

Lirr spoke without taking her eyes away from her handiwork. Her porcelain fingers guided a string of red yarn while she knitted a scarf for him. An odd hobby for one such as her.

“Is it now?”

His bound spirit stopped her work and focused her gaze on him, her inhuman eyes so livid with emotions. First time in all the years she served him for years but never before had been this angry. Just by seeing her gaze he would fear for his life were she not bound to him.

Yet, whatever he saw or thought he saw, lasted no more but a fluttering heartbeat. At once her face became a mask of indifference that those alike her wore among humans. Were they so cold as the legends say? Were they devoid of feelings? How could it be true if legends were also ripe with spirits throwing away their life for the sake of lowly mortals. And yet…

“Love, do not involve yourself with that one, naught but trouble will come of it.”

She admonished him in her loveliest voice. Why? Thus, more his curiosity burned now. Defeated, she hid her gaze in her handiwork. Among the clacking of a clock, the newest gift from the university to replace one Fenella broke, Lirr’s voice reached him along her pain.

“If not for your own safety, then do it for my selfish desire.”

“Your desire… Answer me, why?”

Her hands gripped and squeezed the scarf she put so much time to work on and, while the clock clacked, she hung her head low, her hair setting a curtain around her face. In silence that span between the clock’s clacks, her tears drummed against her fists.

“Because my love, my heart would not hold if I had to kill you.”

Tears. For a spirit to cry for him…

“Does her contract outrank you?”

His words were still at the end of his tongue when her face became a mask of indifference.

“Not even my tears would stop you? What a senseless master I bound myself to.”

“You did not answer my question.”

That itself answered his query. For Lirr to avoid a subject meant going against the laws of her kind and these laws were absolute unless…

“There is no unless my love. The laws are absolute and one shall follow them. A call must be answered, a wish must be granted, and a price must be paid. If one cannot pay, no wish can come true.”

She tied a knot, ending her work then put the red thread in her moth and bit it off. All while gazing into his eyes. A warning? A silent threat even. A reminder that without her, the thread of his life would come to an end.

“For a hume, you are an agreeable man. I had served and bed lesser people, for none did I care...”

Her mesmerizing legs brought her to him so she could cast her hand knitted scarf around his shoulders. With care she looped it around his neck and tucked the ends under his coat.

“… for you, hmm, for you my pitiful master I say this; the answer you seek is not worth your life, nor mine. Do not involve us with…”

Lirr choked as her words were crushed within her throat while frost spread around them. Invisible hands squeezed her neck to the point where grooves left by the ghostly fingers cut deep into her skin and voice of dread pierced his mind as if Death herself spoke.

Do not interfere.

Courage

Darkness. How deep and thick it felt. Almost as if he could touch it. As if he could grab the fabric of darkness, pull at this curtain that bound them all.

But he could not. That was not possible. Not for him, not for the king, not even for the scary dragon that kept on pummeling that thing, the source of darkness, with all her might.

Yet, the darkness did not budge. It wouldn’t. Not for her.

In a flash of lightning, the cursed staff repelled her once more, sending her fried body back into nothingness. Again.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The boy smiled. He liked that scary lady. He liked her a lot. She did not belong here, but her tenacity made him like her. If it’s her, it should be fine if he leaves. If she’s still around, that is. That was quite a big spark she ate with her face… Perhaps he should check on her?

Courage got up, patting out his knees from some imaginary dust and strolled off to where the dragon fell. Her body collapsed back into her human form, smoking. She lived. Somehow. Her face resembled a burned marshmallow but that was the extent of damage she received. The staff held back this time. Good.

He extinguished her skirt or what left of it, at the same time satisfying his curiosity. Black lace huh? Not bad. His smile broadened up a bit. Yup, his favorite kind. This, black lace, scary dragon lady should do just fine.

“What you intend is… unwise.”

Frost spread all over the place when Logic came, the Jailer following in her footsteps. Their presence made the boy shiver.

“Will you try to stop me?”

He asked yet her gaze was not even turned his way.

“No.”

It seemed like ages before her voice reached him. Whatever occupied her mind, he was no part of it. At her silent order, the Jailer heft the dragon up and slung her over his shoulder. They began to walk away into the mist.

“Then I shall be going.”

Logic stopped and turned around, her cold eyes drilling the little boy. A child that could stand her gaze.

“If you must. Take Rage with you.”

An order came out of her lips.

“That… may not be a good idea.”

She raised her eyebrow at him. The pipsqueak dared to oppose her.

“What I have spoken, I have spoken.”

And gone they were. Not a turn of events he expected but who could know. Logic seldom made mistakes. Her judgements were for sure better than his own. Probably.

But Rage… hah… well… Rage? What on earth went in her head? Courage shrugged his arms and went to find the burly man. He did not look long.

Rage sat at the edge of mist, drowning his time away in his faithful bottle of poison. Beaten up it seems. Even more of a sore thumb than he usually been. His face the result of kissing a truck that went over him ninety miles an hour. Not a usual sight. The only other time he had seen him in such a dilapidated state… there’s been only one such occasion. When Rage went against the Jailer. The fight lasted about a heartbeat. Perhaps a fight was too big of a word. Getting stomped into the ground does not count as a fight.

The boy made sure he looked presentable and after patting out his blouse, he asked.

“Hi Rage. Will you…”

“Piss off.”

Aha. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. On the other hand, Logic told him to…

“Wil you come with me?”

He tried again.

“Piss off.”

“Please?”

“Piss off, please?”

Unusual. Perhaps he was getting somewhere. He opened his mouth again when a glass shattered just beside him. A warning shot. In Rage’s lingo that meant a lot. Courage had no idea why the man would give him so much respect as to warrant a warning shot.

“You know I’m not afraid of you. You can’t intimidate me.”

The boy’s lips said yet his knees were dancing like jelly. Rage took it with his usual stoic nature. Sat still for about a minute then got up and shuffled over to where the boy stood. Courage yipped when the iron hand grabbed his scruff and hoist him up to a face that screamed murder.

“Take my advice and piss the fuck off before I make you afraid. Capeesh?”

Flying backwards to land on his butt, the boy understood that he in fact was very, absolutely, blood churning afraid.

“…She told me to take you.”

He mumbled through his teeth, fighting with his tears. Rage froze where he stood.

“She didn’t…”

“She did. She even raised her eyebrow.”

Rage clenched his fist. He had a lot to say about this whole affair although, on second thought, he chose one word.

“Fuck.”

Galen Vesa

I lived through quite a bit. Perhaps not all was real but still… It’s not every day one learns… now’s a really good time to sigh. If all what they told me is real, I…

“You’re not a mass murderer. Well, you are and you are not. Kind off. It’s complicated.”

A little boy dropped beside me and mimicking my pose, spread his arms and legs in the tall grass.

After what that woman-entity-god-whatever showed me a glimpse of my past, I came to this empty meadow and collapsed without a purpose. Instead of feeling remorse, my mind seemed even more blank then usual and the whooshing silence in my head magnified that bleak sensation.

“You should stop wasting around. Your dragon fried would be disappointed knowing you did nothing all this time.”

“Erta? Is she alright?

“More or less. You knew she likes those fancy panties?”

Courage asked after the moon walked few steps over our heads.

“Black lace? Yeah. Been kicked enough times to get a glimpse of those. What are you doing here? I thought you were all locked in.”

“We are running away. Always. Are you not tired of that?”

It… Stung. My left eye began to leak. His words stabbed so deep. Touched something I should have known yet…

“Time will come for that. Not yet though. Right now, I came to say goodbye.”

I had to twist my head and look into his smiling eyes. There was fear inside them but at the same time, a calmness I had never seen before.

“You know, I was the first one you lost but even then, I knew I shall be the first on to go back.”

He put his cheek against mine.

“See?”

A curious warmth spread through this cursed body of mine.

“Don’t worry. In the end everything should be fine.”

Like a soap bubble, he burst into golden dust.

And I felt it.

And I knew.

The corridor was dark, there were flashing lights. Why did they bring him here? He hated the dark. There were monsters in the dark.

Screams. Screams came from the dark. There were monsters killing people in the dark. Thunders roared and lightnings flashed in the night but even those thunders people held in their arms could not kill that monster hiding in the dark.

Red burning dots glowed in the night.

The monster was getting close.

“Mommy…”

The monster stretched out its bloodied claws.

Thunders roared.

The air held the acrid gunk.

Her arms never reached us.

I was no longer afraid to cry. And I cried.

But the consequences would not vanish no matter how hard I cried. But now I had the courage to accept all that.

Still there were others I forgot about. Like that big idiot sulking behind that bush.

I got up and walked over to him, stretching out my arm.

“Piss off.”

He turned and tried to walk away into the night.

I hugged him from behind.

Rooth

Which one was it? Fifth? Tenth? No… more like a thousand and something. Each soul no less useless than the one before. Even if they find a perfect one, what difference would it make? Come morning he may wake again within the same darkness, waiting. Waiting for one that would not come. One that would end his torment. One that would free him from this never-ending misery. Instead, many came and failed, lost among the endless night to never be seen again. Many he had brought into the light and yet… none would be the one.

His pipe ran cold so he packed it anew with herbs, last crop he ever gathered before this everlasting night swallowed his soul. How long ago did all that transpired? Has it only been a day since he made his vows? No. That could not be. His souls felt the weight of eons past, spent in this very same day and night, all repeating like a wheel of endless failures.

Sparks soared into the sky as he sucked onto the mouthpiece, sweet aroma filling his chest as the herbs began their work on his tired mind, bringing a momentary respite from his raging thoughts. Perhaps he could even meditate for a while now. At least until his pipe would run cold again. Maybe even until this bonfire of his would burn out.

They used to gather around the crackling flame, telling stories of days past long into the night, laughing as the sparks streaked into the sky. Now, no one would tell him stories and no one but the flame would listen to the stories he told. Only this lonely flame remained by his side.

And the flame froze.

Sparks no longer twinkling, drifted to the ground encrusted in ice. His breath misted in the chilled air while his fur stood up and crinkled, covered in a layer of frost. A familiar bell fell broken at his feet, smeared in what could only be a layer of frozen blood.

“Teach me.”

A specter murmured its desire in a voice of rustling velvet. Rooth looked her in the eyes and leaned back in his chair. What an intriguing gaze. Not the chosen one. Neither the one they needed for the task.

“Teach me.”

Mana boiled around them, bending moonlight within large floating droplets while molten matter pooled underneath her feet where it burned emanating blueish light.

A traveler they did not want. The only soul they got for now. Whatever good it can bring? Rage called from her bleeding eyes. Perhaps nothing good may come out of that.

“Teach me.”

Why not? He might do just that.