Though the day hadn’t changed, feeling the warmth of the sun at my back beginning helped clear my mind. The night was coming soon. The nights in Pyre and especially Nora were vastly different than the depressing dark nights of Riel and the capital amaranth. even so, I couldn’t help myself being pulled towards Numena even though it wasn’t within arm’s reach nor was its throne. I couldn’t help myself but look towards it nonetheless, the beach on Nora’s coastline faced directly to Numena’s capital formerly known as Kalma. The two black spires of the citadel could only just be seen when the sky was low, even then without enhanced vision you could hardly see it.
Wanting to be alone for a while, I allowed Luna to stay behind and just let everyone know. Holding out the last teleportation stone I fuelled fire mana into the source I always used. Thinking of a location, I connected to the stone that began to glow a bright orange. Within an instant, the world around me began to warp into a jumble. Closing my eyes firmly I felt the mana wrap around me burning deep into my flesh momentarily scarring me. Feeling the mana starting to dissipate, lifting my eyes lid slowly I saw the citadel before me. In ruins.
The once great city of Kalma had been reduced to nothing more than a garden of erosion. the citadel was the worse off with the two spires of divinity now looking like two shattered blades covered in a thin black ash and snow. There was a kind beauty to that in a way many would seem to be unnatural, looking up at the sky from the two ruined spires I could the clouds as darker reflections heightened by the everlasting crimson eclipse.
Ashes rained down from the aetheric clouds. Several ashen snowflakes landed in my hand crumbling once they contacted my scarred pale hand. Staring at my hand for a single fleeting moment. Time went on without me just staring at my hand watching the ash flakes just disappear. Shaking my head I turned back towards the citadel remembering a couple of things about those spires. According to ancient myths I knew as Marin spoke that the two spires represented two beings who rebuilt Numena in their images. The first queen and her husband Rold. This was best represented by the banner that still hung from the left spire.
A black phoenix on a crimson gold flaking background.
Taking my first step, a crunch followed as my heavy-heeled knee-high boot pushed the snow outwards from under my foot. Reminiscing I allowed memories to resurface of my past lives, the days I lived here as Marin commanding the sororitias. Living just as myself. Playing with my children I had aptly named Kara and Nero. These two, back then were my strength. The only reason I got up and carried on fighting to save the people from Talos. The man who never thought of me as his daughter. Remembering their faces from the platinum blonde eyes of Kara to the always stained black fingers of Nero that I now shared just like Talia.
I couldn’t help but let a faint tug of the lips form a smile to grace my lips, I had hoped Kara would grow up and become a great person who would help the weak just like her brother. If only that came to pass instead of them sacrificing themselves to save my own life, ‘a child shouldn’t have to place themselves in front of harm’s way to save their parent.’ I thought climbing the fifteen steps towards the once grand entrance of the citadel. Each step I took, allowed more memories to surface.
“Come on mum let’s go!” Nero exclaimed pulling me along, the memory I was currently remembering became a sort of magical play. Maybe it was my mind playing tricks, but it was good to see Nero’s happiness again before Castil tore it all away. “let’s go find daddy!” unlike what rumours suggested, Nero was born naturally even Kara was naturally which even my aides didn’t believe. Following after the projection, reaching the once great doors I stopped bumping into the carved stone doorframe.
The memory continued a slightly altered version of me happily running beside Nero. A near nine-foot-tall goddess running beside her four-foot-tall son, feeling it again felt refreshing. A new feeling washed over me seeing it from another point of view. Nero wasn’t as innocent as he allowed people to see. He saw more than his fair share of bad moments and still wore a smile like it didn’t affect him at all. He grew up fast, becoming a man before then anyone ever expected.
“It seems like my son is in a happy mood today. I hope your mother has been nice to you.” Nero's father spoke with a gallant mighty voice, picking his son up. Nero sat upon his father’s left shoulder reaching high above to reach a book. The book just out of reach made him grumble, which made both my past self and his father Nolan laugh. The love of the father towards his son was strong even when Nolan had grown old and sick. Just like his son Nolan hid everything to make his son have a good life free of horror but when you're born in a war there is much you can’t do or hide.
Nolan the ever-good man tried his hardest to shield Nero. Watching the memory fade another appeared this time it was me alone with Kara who sat on my lap as I read her a book about the myths and legends of our ancestors. Kara was the volatile child, the one with untapped amounts of power that could burst at any moment. she was seen as weak owing to the fact that she hated using her power caring more for arts and swordsmanship. Kara knew everything about the war long before she ever saw me pick up a blade to protect her.
The disadvantage to having precognition. A curse like mine then again, some people would call it a gift, to see every future possibly to be created was not a gift in my opinion.
“Mommy?”
“Mhm?”
“What is it like being a queen? I imagine it's like messing with sand… it's fun until you get bored and try something different.” Kara seemed sad as she asked the question. Maybe the precognition took effect at this time not that I could tell. It was all subconsciously done. I didn’t reply immediately just flicking to the next page from the page I was on.
“It’s hard but when is anything ever easy? I wasn’t born to be queen of this continent… I once served Talos as his knight, I was eventually thrown aside. Anyway, let’s see what Anor is doing shall we?” No matter how many times I was asked by Kara I never told her the true reason as to why I became the queen. I didn’t want to remember it. Back then and even now I don’t want to remember it, why my father had cast me out.
The memory soon dissipated and instead of standing in a library, I stood in a vast open ruin, ashen snow still pouring down, trying to remember my way around as I walked through the halls. The ruins yet partially destroyed were exactly how I thought they would be dingy, decrepit, and all round-rotted. The light oak whined in agony, covered in darkened moss glowing a lucent blue with a slight hint of cyan. The moss hissed with intervals of a few seconds after the aged wood.
Reaching where the throne room should be I saw another memory that began to play leading me towards the old orchid. I mumbled under my breath following behind the memory that didn’t seem to speak or feel as if it belonged to me, even owing to that I continued following after the memory. The memory itself was a lot more vivid than that of the ones with Kara and Nero, it was more. Real. I couldn’t see their face so it was hard to recognize them, their body shape and even silhouette were unfamiliar. This memory was wearing clothing unseen, ancient robes of a long time before I ascended to the throne or godhood.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Reaching the orchid the being spoke as if they knew who I was.
“You’re a pendragon.”
“Yeah. You are?” now facing the memory being well ghost of paracausal nature. They seemed to defy the very nature of causality, in some way. The dead shouldn’t be able to speak but this place can show me my past memories and even a being can show up to guide me.
“My name is Rold. I was once the regent king after the first numen queens’ death. Once her aide. In this place, we spent her last moments together. under that tree you’ll find something you’re looking for... it might offer you some answers.” Rold seemed to point at the large tree in the middle of the orchid the only one seemingly to remain. Turning quickly to Rold and then the tree then back to him I felt his eyes linger on the tree or whatever was inside of it. “Be careful in there because not everything will be what it seems.”
His warning didn’t go unheard taking this in, I began to walk to the tree that seemed to whisper to me. Beckon me. Command me against my will to enter. Several voiced whispers could be heard from the roots of the tree, like the fact that the ash tree roots were alive and filled to the brim with souls. It wasn’t a painful number of voices but if I had to be honest it wasn’t exactly the nicest bunch of sounds, I’d like to hear. Reaching out towards the roots I could feel the excess of mana that the tree was feeding on desperately trying its best to keep itself alive, the hollowness of that was evident.
“This tree has been here even before my time. I dared not to remove it as I somewhat cared more about a tree than my own life.” I whispered aloud holding a root between my fingers. Roots started to fade into obscurity along with the entire tree even the red leaves of the grey-bark ashen oak tree. This act of the tree revealed runes along its surface. Trying to read the runes I somehow understood that they were all in Malphent’s script, a language I should have no business knowing. Reading the runes just like I did with the ones on my arms I slowly pieced together what it all said.
‘See the unseen. Born under flesh over blood. My heart torn into eight, chained under brambles.’ Speaking the runic words in Malphent’s script that became etched into the tree unsealed some sort of magic, this allowed thorns to stab into my palm making me draw blood onto the roots. Golden blood dripped from my hand onto the thorns that buried themselves deep into my hand, the golden blood instantly dried causing a magical rift to start to form.
The rift cracked, and its nature became dissolved. My vision became blurry along with various objects warped in unnatural ways. Shaking my head didn’t do anything, I just waited for the world to go back to normal. When the world started to come to reality again, I heard various voices of higher pitch than my own, focusing on the voices I began to hear them more clearly. The rift cracking still inside my head like a groaning wolf being shot. Shutting out the sounds, I laid my eyes upon three beings. A siren. A fae. The last of the three beings was a Puca. Each looked similar in some way to their stereotypical appearance with a few added changes. The siren did have a thick tail instead of legs with the added difference being she didn’t have serpentine-like eyes.
The fae seemed to be most different from her stereotypical counterpart. Yes, she could use magic at will with no problems and her body markings glowed as she did but nothing more than that could be as faelike. The last was a Puca. A shapeshifting trickster with a greedy side for gold and unfair deals. Like their two allies in this scenario, the only thing that showed me they were a puca was the black hare body, with the added addition of a farmer’s cap and pipe in his elongated fingers.
“Could you two stop bickering we have a visitor. It’s been years since we’ve had one!” The hare exclaimed throwing his tobacco-filled crooked pipe at the slightly tanned fae. The fae rubbing the back of her head turned to face the Puca ready to throw down with him. The siren-seeing sense stopped the fae by pointing towards me, now only noticing my presence. To their surprise, I wasn’t shocked by the fact I could only see out of one eye. With no living presence of my mechanical or fleshy left arm. The hare spoke up again jumping off his rock to retrieve his crooked pipe, which still burned from the excess amount of tobacco.
“You’re the pendragon those people on the outside have been talking about. The lonely god… the name fits you, Rias Pendragon.” The puca complimented me lifting his pipe in a joyful action. Focusing on the fact he called me a lonely god, I twisted my head slightly with a raised brow, the world shifting ever so slightly.
“Don’t you remember the day you shapeshifted into the giant dark phoenix with wings that seemed to dissipate like smoke?” The siren asked as the world around us grew larger yet older to match the outside world of Numena. “That phoenix form belonged to the lonely god. It’s been so long that we remember nothing about her, yet you have her familiar smell.” The siren looked to the fae who grumbled pushing up from the ground, the fae assessed my appearance without my arm and eye.
“You also have the smell of two other beings. One of the malignant wench who trapped us in here and the one who freed us. Marin. How can you smell of some many souls?” she asked placing a hand on my chest feeling for my essence in my core.
“I am what they call a cursed reincarnation.”
“That would explain it. Do you know what they are?” The Puca replied asking a question in return. I had somewhat of an idea, as I didn’t have a clear sense. I shook my head seeing if he could offer some clarity to the question. “They are beings who are cursed to relive their life either through regression, reincarnation or resurrection until they can repent or fix the mistakes that were made in their first life. No curse reincarnation has been successful.”
This gave me some clarity yet some gaps of knowledge still remained in my head.
“I shall go on. Cursed reincarnations are destined to relive until they fix or repent and if that doesn’t work, they die to the one they love most or just lose the will to live. In your case, it’s a bit of both though you can’t remember it all.” The Puca finished taking a long puff from his pipe before taking another almost directly after.
“Oh, she smells like Nero!” The fae shouted facing the hare who nodded in reply. “He’s one like her.” I froze hearing this hoping that Nero or Kara weren’t cursed reincarnation for whatever reason they had lived over and over again. The fae wasted no time and explained to me that Nero had lived twice. Currently living as a farmer in Pyre’s northern peaks of all places. She told me nothing other than where I could find him, despite that she did warn me that he wanted to live the life he had without trouble. Without interruption.
“What about Kara?” I asked my entire body shaking. Looking to the floor I dared not face them.
“Yet to be born.” The Puca now taking on the form of a lynx sat before me staring up at my bowed face. “We puca may be tricksters but we help the ones that free us from forged bonds. Also, we can see the future, and I’ll admit she’ll become strong just like another yet to be born, two children one without mana and one unable to speak. They may become stronger than you.” The Puca shapeshifted into a lynx and spoke staring up at me, his mouth not moving a single inch.
Once again the world changed and I was back outside the tree still with the siren, fae and Puca. The siren now taking on a more humanoid form, the fae now taking on the form of an owl and the Puca still taking on his lynx form. Rold was nowhere to be seen, even if I looked for him it would be hard to find such a paracausal entity.
“You coming or not?” The Puca asked walking a few paces in front and behind his two companions. Quickly catching up to him I began to notice the world started to change to some degree. At first glance, there weren’t any major changes only small ones. The Ashen Snow still fell from the sky covering the ground in cold grey. Leaves on trees started to resurrect themselves from the ever-growing presence of the three beings. ‘The three numen guardians.’ I realized now that the three beings I had been talking to inside the tree were the three original guardians of Numen the very beings that gave this continent its life. Its name.
Each of the three guardians took on a different role as they were technically eldritch gods, well outcasts from the old rule when Oryan had complete control. The siren was the eldritch goddess of the sea, Nume. The fae was the eldritch goddess of plants, Danu. The Puca was the trickster god before Loki, his name was… Wukong. Each became outcasts for similar reasons each siding with the primordial creator, Nume used her power to rot branches of Yggdrasil, Danu used hers to make Yggdrasil weaker whereas Wukong like the war goddess Sif became the creator's right-hand.
“Why do you serve Numena if your eldritch gods and how?” I asked seeing several plot holes in the stories I had always been told as a child in my life as artura and in this life.
“Well, you see. After we were freed temporarily, we became the first eldritch gods after oryan. For a time, we carried a lot of weight until that monster Orin ancormon appeared. An artificial god. Somehow, he became a true one after figuring out how Lady Sif did it. The mother of Valkyries and goddess of war waged a political war with our help which eventually caused a rift in the creator’s power. A war began. The war in heaven.” Wukong paused facing the throne that now stood alone before us. “Orin driven by malice and hate became the god of death and deceit raising his own battalion of soldiers an all-male army called the betrayers.”
“With the help of the sinners, they made Valkyries betray Sif. The ones who stayed by Sif became the first Valkyrie-angle hybrids. Through the war in heaven Orin became more powerful messing with the Valkyrie six, causing her to kill a large portion of angels and Sif herself. This caused Six to become hateful…” Nume who had begun to speak paused.
It was Danu who spoke up next. “She came here and asked for our help. We made Six an eldritch goddess. The eldritch goddess of Rot and blood, in front of this throne she became the second hanged queen and the second mother of the Valkyries. She ended the war by cursing the sinners. Not to mention she killed Orin with his own sword Caliburn or so she thought.”