A Discussion Between Three Entities

Elizzel had almost forgotten this about Schrodie. The Gatekeeper’s way of locking reality had always been somewhat sinister, though he would decline such a claim. Sucking away all the colors, freezing everything in stasis, leaving no room for any scrying eye or eavesdropping ear to gain any sort of inkling that they were even there in the first place.

Beside her, Enza remained still, pulled away from the frozen reality. Even the fallen leaves stayed in stasis. One could say that time stopped, but Schrodie wouldn’t put it that way. Too simple. After all, those that he allowed to exist in this locked reality still moved.

The faunel breathed a sigh, calming herself. “Do you always have to do that?” she asked.

“Yes, apologies.” Schrodie stood, painting a coffee table with a pair of chairs beside the tree. Painting on reality was the most straightforward way to describe what he was doing, but the actual terms and discipline was something that only he was privy to. “I have to make sure that we are in a secure, private space. I wouldn’t want to scare any of the locals or start any rumors.”

He sat on one of the chairs and gestured towards the other. “Care to join me?”

Elizzel didn’t have much of a choice. Still smiling—only slightly now—she took the opposite chair while Schrodie painted a tea set and served her. The flavor was oddly creamy, a relaxing brew that complemented her mood.

“You’re in a rather surprisingly cheerful mood, Eli. Care to share?”

“I saw Evangeline.” The thought rejuvenated her smile as she sipped from the tea. “And Frein and Kat said they’ll accept me in their relationship.”

“Oh?”

“That reminds me! You never told me that the Tether would make me fall in love with the Visitor!”

“You’ll forget about him when he’s gone. Are you sure you want this relationship?” Schrodie took a sip, emphasizing his question. His distorted face shifted into proper lips, too full and pretty for a man.

“I won’t forget Katherine,” Elizzel said with confidence, drinking her own tea. The awkward moment that followed was long enough for her to question the statement. “Won’t I?”

“Only the Visitor,” Schrodie assured.

She accepted that answer. “That’s good enough for us.”

“So where did you see Evangeline, if I may ask?”

“Inside Kristel’s Dream. In her Mind Palace. It’s beyond broken.” Reminiscing the recent memory brought Elizzel a more urgent thought. “We also met Evanclad.”

“That’s odd,” Schrodie said, finishing his tea and pouring another. “Why would he be there?”

“Before that, this Evanclad doesn’t even remember you.”

Elizzel’s words caused Schrodie’s features to slip through, too vague, too many to comprehend. It bothered Elizzel.

“Can’t you just focus on one appearance?” she asked. “I prefer it when you show up as Kristella. At least, then, you’ll look like Evangeline.”

“No. Too many souls for me to concentrate on one.” He poured Elizzel another cup. “Kristella’s not with me tonight. She volunteered to stand guard.”

“There hasn’t been an invasion for centuries now.”

“Three centuries, yes. But we’ve spotted probes and scouts beyond the far reaches. While we’ve managed to deal with them, I’m afraid we have to rely on Liang’s tactics to prevent any of our enemies from triangulating where we’ve hidden this world.”

Elizzel motioned for a sip, but a question slipped by her. “Did you have news from her?”

“Still a ‘no’ on that department, sadly.”

Both of them sighed.

“What did she last tell you?” Schrodie asked.

“That was centuries ago,” Elizzel replied. She took her time to gather the memory. “Always trust the Visitor, whether they do the right thing or not.”

“Seems vague as usual.”

“What about yours?”

“Only divulge your plans to Elizzel from now on.”

The faunel’s eyes widened at that. “What? Wait. What does that mean?”

“Means that I can’t trust anyone else but you, Eli.”

“What about Frein? Or Katherine? You trained her for so many years, you know you can trust her. What about the previous Visitors or Seekers?”

“It wouldn’t be wise to question Liang, Eli. You know that.”

The two of them sighed again. Silence grew, disrupted only by the mild clinking of teacups pressing on saucers.

Liang Apocalypse. An enigma of a person. A frail and short looking lady with white locks and crystal blue eyes, who always wore a ceremonial robe. Elizzel remembered her collection of intricately designed paper fans. She never left without one. And for some reason, she always knew where and when things exactly were, as if the future itself, Destiny itself, was eager to tell its secrets.

No, that’s not exactly it.

“I guess, you’re right,” Elizzel started. “We can only stay the course until we receive further instructions from her.”

“And so we shall,” Schrodie agreed. “If Evanclad doesn’t even remember creating me, this means the Monarch that you met wasn’t even at his peak. What did he look like? Did he look old, or young?”

Elizzel shook her head. “We only met his presence. He didn’t have a physical form. His voice sounded old, strained and deep, but he’s been like that from the first day I met him.”

“No form… but if he couldn’t remember me, his creation, it means this version of Evanclad was still beneath Destiny.”

“But Destiny hates him, he said.” Elizzel felt to be on the edge of discovery. She had forgotten her tea.

Schrodie took his time. “Not much I can reveal on the First Monarch, mind you. But I know, that even after the Divine Severing, he did not stop improving. When the gods were forced away, he stopped relying on them and began researching other conventions and paths for power. Two things emerged from it: Meiyal Arts and Meiyal Armaments.”

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

“Evanclad pioneered Armaments? I thought that was Vyndival?” Elizzel had the brief mind to place her teacup saucer back on the table. She was too immersed now to drink.

“Evanclad worked both with his daughter, Kristella, and his closest friend, Galavand, to create both disciplines. The two were supposed to work together, but you know the rest of that part of history.

“Regardless, both the Exhibits of Meiyal Arts and the Arsenals of Meiyal Armaments were the two paths he found for near endless power, enough to reach the realm of gods… or at least, that was his hope.”

“What do you mean?”

Schrodie was silent for a while. Slip ups of his features indicated he was staring at her.

“After Kristella’s era, no other Meiyal Art or Armament practitioner has reached the same strength and powers comparable to even at least a Worldborn. Which means the godless era did not live up to Evanclad’s expectations. Except himself.”

The Gatekeeper already knew she was going to keep asking questions about it, so he continued.

“From what I know—mind you that I wasn’t born yet during this time—after Kristella passed away and the crown fell upon her daughter, Eva, Evanclad left Brymeia with Liang to train. I don’t know exactly what happened, but when he returned, he had completely changed the way he approached Destiny.

“He no longer relied on it. In fact, he challenged it at every turn. If I’m to guess correctly, he is nowhere near the same as the incarnation you’ve met in the Princess’s Dream. He has become a Contradiction.”

Schrodie sighed. “That is as much as I can tell you.”

“Is he still alive? The real him?”

“I don’t know for certain, Eli. He could be out in the cosmos dealing with things far too much for us to handle, or he may have completely snuffed out his flame.” Schrodie finished his tea, before following up. “Ah yes, there’s one more thing I can share.

“The day he created me and bonded me through oath, he asked me a question that to this day I have not found the answer.”

Elizzel instinctively leaned forward. “What is it?”

Schrodie, himself, leaned in for a whisper. “What would you do if Destiny lied?”

Elizzel tilted her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“As is the nature of Contradictions.”

The faunel couldn’t figure out the riddle, nor did she have anything to say about it now. For sure Frein would have a lot to ask about it. It was another route for power, something that was beyond what even the previous Evanclad knew.

“You won’t mind if I share this with Frein?” As she uttered the words, she realized the point of this meeting. “No… you want me to tell him.”

“Indeed. Very perceptive of you.” Schrodie poured himself a third cup of tea. “As for the Monarch that you met, did you have any idea how he ended up in Kristel’s Dream?”

“Our best guess is the Letterman,” she said. “Quite frankly, we’re pretty sure it’s him.”

“The Letterman?”

“The person I told you about a week ago. The one we think who has Death’s Wish. Frein gave him a name so we can refer to him easily.”

“Makes sense. Why him?”

Elizzel shared the story about what happened to Kristel on the day they fought the three Forest Jaws.

“I wasn’t exactly there when it happened,” she clarified, “but I think that what the Letterman used wasn’t even Meiyal Arts.”

“Judging from the description, I don’t think it was either.”

“It’s called Meiyal Casting,” said the Letterman’s distorted voice. It sounded like both a man and a woman whispering together. His blurred form pierced Schrodie’s veil as though casually walking through a curtain. Mild cracks in reality shifted in and out of his silhouette. “A lost and forgotten discipline derived from Meiyal Weaving, but in a more aggressive form and combined with Void Control Techniques.”

Elizzel looked at the stranger for a few dazed seconds.

“Hello, Elizzel. You look well,” said the Letterman as he approached with careful steps. His every movement resonated with space, producing cracking sounds like ice breaking apart. “Do you mind if I join, Schrodie? This won’t take long.”

Only then did the faunel come to realize that it was really him, the Letterman, and that she couldn’t discern any of his features at all. Not his height, approximate weight, build, hair color, or anything. He was a term of convenience that Frein used to refer to him. But he could very well be a she.

Elizzel also realized the slow way he walked. Letterman was fighting against Schrodie’s stasis.

“You are one of strong caliber, stranger. To stand so casually against this veil isn’t something anyone alive on Brymeia today should be able to achieve.” Schrodie slowly stood, a deliberate action compared to his usual distorted antics. “You may join us.”

The Letterman eased, his form no longer restricted by the reality freezing veil. “Thank you,” he said.

“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell us your name, then?” Elizzel asked.

“Apologies, Eli. I would’ve come here completely free of any disguise if I wanted to tell you my name in the first place.”

“Why are you here, then?” It was Schrodie’s turn to ask.

“I wanted to make it clear that I’m your ally.” The Letterman motioned to sit which made Schrodie respond instinctively to paint a chair for him. “Seems like Frein’s antics rubbed on you, Gatekeeper.”

“Yes, very funny.” Schrodie returned to his chair. “You may explain yourself.”

“As you have guessed, I’m Blessed with Death’s Wish. To what extent, I’m afraid I cannot tell you. I’ve been working for far too long to even recall it properly. But you may rest assured knowing that every knowledge I pass, every advice I give, every future I predict are well within the trenches of what Destiny will allow and Contradiction will ignore. I’m not like Liang, but I’m sure she knows I am here. If she didn’t she would’ve returned already.”

“What makes you say that?” Schrodie asked.

“Within the next two weeks, a Nightmare Incursion will occur. This is different from the Void Encounter the people of Irista Nation usually deal with. And something I’m sure Liang really cares about.”

“You can’t pinpoint the exact time?” Schrodie asked.

“I can,” said the Letterman. “But the more specific I try to be, the more dangerous it will become for Frein and the others. It’s better this way.”

A Nightmare Incursion was a familiar term, and its main difference with a Void Encounter—or a Nightmare Invasion as it was more recently called—was its scale and unannounced appearance. While an Encounter would hit towns or cities with a predictable pattern, an Incursion would devastate entire regions, or even a country overnight without warning.

Still, a Nightmare Incursion had never occurred within Irista Nation territory. Not since Evanclad’s Order of the Void secured the nation along with the Vyndival Kingdom. Recent events had made that quite possible now.

“The Incursion will hit three places simultaneously. But I can only tell you of the one that matters.”

“Where?” Elizzel asked.

“It’s wherever Frein ends up being when it happens.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” The faunel shot out of her chair and stomped her way towards the Letterman. An intangible field forced her at a distance. It wasn’t harmful, but it kept her away. “Frein won’t survive an Incursion!”

“He will. He should. All of you should.”

“What happens if I prevent this, Letterman?” Schrodie asked calmly. He remained seated, enjoying his tea. “What if I prevent the Incursions, I mean.”

“Frein will miss his opportunities. Katherine won’t return to her peak. Kristel will re-entertain her guilt and die. Frill will succumb to vengeance. They’ll be too scattered and too weak for the rest of their journey, and nothing I do from that point will change that.”

“Nothing?”

“Without affecting Destiny or Contradiction prematurely, I can tell you that it’s impossible.”

“Why not tell Frein all this directly?” Elizzel asked. She was still frustrated, but the words of a person with Death’s Wish held too much weight. After all, he was someone who had outlived everyone and everything. While people envy it, being a Blessing and all, it was more of a curse than anything else. A curse that Brymeia would entrust to those she knew could carry it without complaints…forever.

“I can’t,” said the Letterman. “You might not believe this, but whatever method I choose, however much I try, Frein will always figure out who I am. I’ve already risked enough sending a letter to Katherine. I will not interact with either of them anymore for as long as I possibly can. You support the two of them, while I support Frill and Princess Kristel from the shadows.”

The Letterman stood. “Thank you for your time, you two. You will see me again when the time comes.”

“Wait,” Elizzel said. She calmed herself down, allowing for her curiosity to surface. “You know exactly when Frein will die, right?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.

“When?”

Elizzel didn’t expect an answer. She had learned from Frein that most people who held truths tend to keep their revelations close to their chests. But the pause gave her anticipation.

“Eli,” the Letterman began. “I expect you to be there for him when the time comes. And I expect you to not forget. Katherine will need you until the very end.” He then, for the first time, made an indication of movement. A shift of his blurry form, looking at Schrodie for a brief moment before looking back at the faunel.

“There won’t be another Visitor.”

With that, the Letterman walked out of the veil, vanishing completely.

“You have your work cutout for you,” Schrodie said, standing up and finally finished with his tea.

“Vyndivalian bombs, and now a Nightmare Incursion.” Elizzel sighed as the Gatekeeper released the reality freezing veil. “We really need to get moving.”

----------------------------------------