Talking History with History

“For starters,” Frein began, “Why don’t you explain how you ended up in Kristel’s Dream. You did mention it’s something everyone in the Irista bloodline shares, but why can’t I find the others?”

The Visitor continued his venture through the darkness lit only by the dim glow of flowing meiyal. He carried Elizzel on his back. The faunel had grown so bored that she fell asleep, sliding off his shoulders and wrapping her arms around his neck while her legs locked around his waist. He felt like carrying an empty backpack with two soft cushions constantly massaging his lower scapular. It was weird how such a weightless entity could be this endowed at the same time. Never mind how dangerously young she looked.

This is a multi-millennia-old grandma with eternal youth and can shapeshift into a monster. He kept reminding himself. Get a grip, Frein.

Despite this ridiculous notion, Frein imagined he would’ve turned insane a long time ago if not for Elizzel’s company as well as Evanclad’s upbeat personality, despite his intangible form. The touch of another person itself, gave him enough hold on his sanity. The Monarch as well was mysterious enough to keep his brain stimulated.

Evanclad gave an impression of a person with many secrets—all the secrets, probably—but one who enjoyed keeping them. Unhelpful as it might be, Frein knew this ancient man possessed enough experience to know which piece of information would be best to share and which would be better off staying in his grave.

“It’s a feat, you see. Not something I would recommend, given your situation, though,” the presence explained. “I turned myself into a meiyal-charged material. I made it so that only a rightful heir can absorb my material form and integrate with it.”

“Kristel mentioned the Letterman giving her a material…” Frein mused.

“Who’s the Letterman?”

“Some mysterious person helping us out. He—or she, or whatever—refuses to name himself. I don’t suppose you would have any idea, would you? Any particular person you know who could live for a long time?”

“Beats me. Faunels come to mind, as far as agelessness goes.”

Frein wondered why he never thought of that. “You’re probably right. He could be a faunel.”

“That’s probably a long shot, though…”

“Why’s that?”

Evanclad didn’t reply for a while. Whenever their conversation came to a stall, Frein’s mind would linger back to the darkness. He found it difficult to focus, ironically. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the First Monarch to gather his thoughts.

“How the Letterman got it in the first place is a mystery. See, I entrusted my meiyal-material form to no one. I hid it in a place akin to the Seals I used for the Four Sealed Ones. So if he got his hands on it, he’s probably more powerful than a faunel. Potentially even more powerful than I was. You’ve heard of the Sealed Ones, right? My greatest failures, those.”

“Deitars you couldn’t kill, Rindea told me about it.”

“Oh, you’ve met Rindea, how is she?”

“Schrodie took her to an afterlife for heroes,” Frein replied, deliberately emphasizing the Gatekeeper's name.

“Who’s Schrodie?”

“She’s the one who helped me become the Visitor.”

“Oh, never met her.”

“I expected as much,” said the Visitor.

From what Frein had gathered, he knew even Evanclad wouldn’t know about Schrodie. It made little sense to him, but at least that nonsense was consistent. It didn’t lead him any closer to knowing the Gatekeeper’s true identity and her true motives.

One layer after another. But there was no time to linger in his thoughts. Frein had to keep talking.

“So, what’s your agenda, Evan? You don’t mind me calling you Evan, right?”

“Oh, that works perfectly. Most of my friends call me that.” The First Monarch’s jolly demeanor resurfaced. “Well, the primary reason is because I’m pissed.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You see, after I defeated Zerax’thum, he caused this Divine Severing thing. You know what that is, right? Oh, mind your step first.”

Frein noticed that his path was skewing slightly downwards. He redoubled his efforts as he walked. “I have a general idea with the Severing. Mostly from books and records I’ve read. Basically it disrupted your connection to the gods.”

“And, in turn, caused everything to go into chaos. See, we Worldborns and Deitars, we depend on our connection with these gods. Damn, I can’t really remember any of them. Anyway, what I mean to say is, we tie our Destiny with theirs. This is how we get stronger and better command of… well, everything.

“The gods, in turn—most gods, that is—they become more attuned with their divinity the more people tie their Destiny with theirs. Even initiates who still can’t see Destiny and are driving themselves solely through belief are enough to empower the gods. So, imagine what happened when the Divine Severing happened.”

It didn’t take much for Frein. “You mean the gods died?”

“Nailed it right on the head. See, Divine Severing is different than just breaking your ties with a god’s Destiny. You literally forget about them. Not only that, but people like me who tied our Destiny—especially in my case since I tied myself to so many gods—we suffered more than most. Some of us were emotionally scarred and were spiritually crippled. It made peace more difficult to acquire since Zerax’thum’s death also caused the Void Region to erupt.”

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“Wait…” Frein stopped on his tracks. “You’re telling me, Zerax’thum…”

“Altered Destiny itself, yes. Vengeance for his defeat. Since all the gods stood against him, he made everyone in Brymeia forget, slowly killing the gods.” Evanclad’s voice was solemn. “We should keep moving.”

“Was there nothing the gods could do?” Frein asked as he resumed his steps.

“Well, no. Zerax’thum is a—ah, damn it. But you get what I mean. That vengeful dragon altered Destiny thrice and the gods couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Thrice?”

“Divine Severing, the fact I can’t tell you what he is, and of course, what’s your purpose. Rindea must’ve told you what you need to do, right?”

“I need to see Destiny and look for something in there.”

Evanclad’s naturally deep but cheery voice returned. “Correct. To help give you a clue. That something, once you take it, will give you your answers. Well, some of it.”

“Of course, just some,” Frein said sarcastically. “It’ll be too easy to know everything right off the bat.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’d prefer having one more clue, I guess.”

“Hmm…” Evanclad pondered for a long while, humming and murmuring to himself. His presence grew distant for a few moments. “I don’t think it’ll help much, but what if I told you the name of what you’re looking for?”

“You’re not going to instantly vanish from existence because of some Destiny-shenanigans are you?” Frein turned to his right. It was where he felt Evanclad’s presence the most. Somehow, he could imagine him right there, walking alongside him.

Frein entertained a thought. It wouldn’t really surprise him if this person had ascended into godhood and was the missing god that survived through the Divine Severing.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” Evanclad said.

“But you haven’t even told me why you’re here. We went into so many tangents.”

“You only asked me how, not why.”

Frein leered at the presence. “So, why?”

“I guess you can say, I’m like Zerax’thum. I can’t let Destiny just throw me away now that it no longer needs me.”

This time, his leer turned into a frown.

“When the Divine Severing happened and my ties to all the gods were taken away, my Destiny didn’t know where to go anymore. It became like this. But my deal with Brymeia remained, so this broken Dream gets passed down to anyone who ascends my throne.”

“What was the deal?”

“Protect her, of course. In return, I could tie my Destiny to any god even if they stood for opposite causes. You can say, all the gods loved me. Until, of course, the Divine Severing happened. Now all of them hate me and Brymeia.”

“But they’re dead anyway.”

“In the same sense that I’m also dead, yes.”

“Oh…” The path Frein followed had evened out now. It made the traversal easier, but even as he thought his eyes were starting to adjust, he really couldn’t see anything save for that flow of meiyal. The good news, though, was its increasing density. He could feel they were getting close now.

“Well, what’s passed has passed. It’s best not to linger too long. I guess what I want to do now is meet my heir and help her out the best I can.”

“Kristel’s thinking about refusing the crown, though.”

“Is she a Deitar?” Evanclad asked without a hint of hesitation.

“As far as I know there hasn’t even been a Worldborn since the Divine Severing. Most people have forgotten about that fact, from what I can tell. They only know of the terms and simple definitions, but couldn’t recall when was the last time they had one.”

“Well, I’m not sure if I should feel pity for the poor girl, or not.”

“Why’s that?”

“Our Destiny might be broken, but it’s still tied to one thing, Frein.”

“The crown…”

“She’ll be really hard pressed to deny it. But we’ll see. If someone else succeeds the crown, I’ll just simply vanish and that’s the end of that.”

“Would that help her recover her Dream? Her Mind Palace?”

“No clue.”

The path sloped upwards this time. In fact, it immediately turned into a steep climb.

“Hey, Eli,” Frein said, tapping the faunel’s butt. “Wake up.” He harassed her with squishes until she woke up in panic.

“What do you want, Pervert?” Elizzel complained while rubbing her face over his nape. “Stop squeezing my butt…”

“We have a climb. I need you to lock yourself better. Don’t want you to fall.”

She groaned. “That’s fine. Just use one hand to keep me balanced. You’re feeling up my ass already anyway.”

“That’s not the point. I’m not exactly a pervert.”

“Well, you are,” Elizzel retorted in an irritated but lazy way.

“Only to you and Katherine,” Frein explained, but Elizzel said it at the same time.

“It’s true, though,” he continued.

“One day, Frill and Kristel are going to show some skin and you’re not going to stop ogling at them.”

Frein did all he could to suppress the memory of him sharing a bath with Kristel. It was full of steam and he didn’t even see anything. Besides, Katherine was there to entertain him.

“You’re going to ogle at my heir?” Evanclad’s voice rumbled.

“A man has to man,” Frein defended himself. “Appreciate art, appreciate skin, appreciate the effort they made to make themselves beautiful. Acknowledge it with a few words, and move on. That’s the most gentlemanly way I can put it.”

“Good point,” Evanclad agreed.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Elizzel dismissed it. “Now climb. Wake me up when you’re at the top.”

Left with no choice, Frein began his climb, keeping one hand secured on Elizzel’s butt. Sure, there could be less inconspicuous ways to carry the faunel, but the Visitor didn’t think too much of it. To him, Elizzel was himself. It was odd. Why would he be averse to touching his own body?

No. That wasn’t it.

Frein dismissed it as an excuse provided by their Tether.

The climb was surprisingly easy. The flow of meiyal was close enough to show him where the next handhold was supposed to be. He took one careful step after another which soon settled at a steady pace.

“So, Frein,” Evanclad began. He groaned as if he was also climbing despite lacking his physical form. “You want to know the name, or not?”

“Sure, why not?”

“It’s called a Fragment of Zerax’thum’s Core.”

“That… yeah, it’s not really helpful. It makes sense, though.”

“I suppose. Until I tell you that you can consider this core as a meiyal-charged material.”

That gave Frein a halt. Even with only three limbs to climb, it didn’t give him any trouble stopping. “Meaning I should integrate with it?”

“What else are you going to do with it? I suppose you can study Meiyal Armaments and use it as Embellishment. That would be a weird way of going about it, though.”

“Why integrate with it?” Frein asked, resuming his climb.

“For answers. What else?”

“You’re telling me, I’ll get an audience with that dragon? Just like your case with Kristel?”

“Correct.”

“Why would I need to do that?”

Evanclad pondered for a while. “I suppose it’s confusing. But I have a nagging feeling that Zerax’thum has legitimate reasons why he did what he did.”

“There’s a good reason for literally changing how the entire world works and leaving it in slow self-implosion and death?”

“That bad, huh?”

“I’ve only seen the outskirts of the Void Region—they call it Nightmare Lands now—and I have no idea how this world will survive for the next few decades without anything significant happening.”

For some reason, Evanclad didn’t retort or reason, allowing for that topic to die down. When he spoke again, he changed the topic.

“By the way, I just realized it’s more weird for you to be here, Frein. Mind if I ask your purpose?”

“Well,” Frein began but abruptly stopped. They had already reached the summit. With one final pull, he made it atop the dark wall.

What greeted him made his heart sink.

Before them was a ruined palace suspended in time. It looked as though a great force detonated from within the structure and the collapse and debris were caught in stasis mid-flight. The concentration of meiyal surrounding the towering complex of structures shimmered in prismatic colors, giving the place enough light. It gave Frein an impression of ghosts haunting a desecrated building that was initially meant to house royalty.

He turned again to his right. The First Monarch’s presence was there, looking back at him. Frein gestured towards the ruins.

“I’m here to see if I can fix that.”

Evanclad smiled. Frein felt his presence smile. “I appreciate the gesture, Frein. But we can only hope Kristel can do it herself.”

Frein scratched his head. “Yeah. That’s exactly my point. She just needs a pick-me-up.”

“Oh…very smart, Frein.”

“Very, very, very?”

“Indeed. Very, very, very.”

“I’m getting very annoyed at you two,” Elizzel said, finally climbing down Frein’s back.

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