Omen 6.10

2001, December 22: Washington, DC

I laid back in bed, admiring the Mask. It was, near as I could tell, nearly complete. There was a wholeness there that it lacked before. The gnarled bristlecone pinewood was roiling with magic. I would have said it was brimming with life if the notion wasn't so paradoxical to its nature. Then again, the First Wave and Last Wind taught me that the two concepts were never so distinct as we mortals liked to assume.

I ran my fingers over the rippling patterns on the wood. The Mask was a dark brown, almost black, and the patterns I'd carved were hard to see unless someone had my eyes. They wouldn't be able to see at all from a distance. The waves and billowing clouds that made a crude yin-yang symbol over the eye. The weblike etchings that framed the Mask and looked so elegant and brutal in equal measure. The prancing fox and rabbit that played across the forehead.

Balance. Perspective. Eternity.

They were heavy lessons and as the mana within the Mask reached a familiar crescendo, I wondered what new lesson the Kindred would impart upon me.

When I next opened my eyes, it was to the sight of a crumbling city, half buried in sand. I was standing now, despite having been lounging in bed moments earlier. I stood at the summit of a great hill that overlooked the ruined metropolis. The city itself seemed to be built into twin gorges, though perhaps the gorges had been made with magic around the city. Far below, I could spot a great, gaping maw from whence water flowed.

So vast was the complex that it took me a moment to realize what I was standing on wasn't a hill, but a singular palace. Deep below my feet, I could see what used to be countless rooms and caverns. Some were living quarters, with beds and fabrics long eaten by moths and vermin. Others were offices, meeting rooms, and lounges. I thought I spied a war room even, a table carved with the map of what was once Shurima at its height.

To my left and right, two crumbling towers stretched towards the sky. They were ruined, but I could see that if I were to slot the broken pieces together like Legos, they'd form a giant "U" with my location as the trough.

Behind me was the Sun Disc itself, the legendary artifact of Targon that allowed for the creation of the Ascended. This singular artifact allowed Shurima to thrive despite the harsh desert. With it, its emperors conquered the entire continent and defined an entire era, so much so that the very continent and desert were named for the empire. I felt a wave of sorrow as I saw it buried in sand. It wasn't alive or anything, but I felt that something with that much history deserved to be treated better.

I looked around and sighed. I knew where I was, which also meant I knew who I was meeting.

"Well, let's go find the Fading Icon," I muttered.

"No need, little one," came an echoing voice. It sounded masculine, but raspy and distant, like the last of a flickering candle.

I turned to face the insectoid Kindred. He carried with him a twisted staff of some unknown wood that curled on itself into a spiral on one end. From the spiral hung the desiccated corpses of different creatures. I spied a beetle, some kind of bird, and even a frog dangling by the leg.

The entity was short and wore a mask like all the others. His mask boasted a wide mouth and twin antennae that reminded me of a weevil. His body was that of a man, though he only had three toes. Odd, seeing how he had five fingers. His green skin was like rusted bronze and his only garments were tattered bits of cloth around his waist and a ragged mantle that split in two halves with designs like insect wings.

"You are… very green."

"That is not the worst thing I've been called. To be called at all, there is merit in that, my young friend, for the greatest terror is to be forgotten."

"I suppose," I said cautiously. His magic was… sickly. There was no other way to put it; he felt like a man gasping his last breaths. All the other aspects of death were powerful, robust. Their very presence stirred the air with magic I couldn't yet tame. I couldn't help but compare him to Anivia. Where time seemed to make her strong, it took its toll on the insectoid aspect. "Humans say being forgotten is the second death."

"It is," the Fading Icon agreed. "Now, who are you?"

"Who am I now? Or, are you asking who I'd like to be remembered as?"

"Who are you?"

"Thanks, real helpful." Lacking any other answer, I went with what I knew. "I am He Who Inspires."

The beetle-man-entity let out a shuddering laugh. It sounded like the autumn wind, breathy yet fragile. "All inspirations fade. You will one day be as I am."

"Are you warning me or mocking me?"

"Why not both? Humans are such fleeting creatures with fleeting memories."

"Yeah, well, one of us doesn't have to base his existence on the memories of a dead civilization," I scoffed. I had the World Rune. It was a unique advantage among the Kindred. I couldn't simply be forgotten because the World Rune existed before humanity. Never would I fall to the Etherfiend.

He bowed seemingly in thought and the shadows cast his mask in a sinister glow. "Yes, you are not like us," he shuddered out. "Why? Why you?"

"Luck," I shrugged. As much as I wanted to claim otherwise, that's what it boiled down to. "I was lucky to be born to a mother who loves me, lucky to find the World Rune, lucky for Inspiration to choose me as its partner, lucky to be given time to grow, lucky to have the intelligence to use that time, and lucky to have gained Fortuna's friendship. Sure, there was work involved. I spent countless nights studying the memories of those who'd gone before. I worked daily to master the martial arts of Ionia. But in the end, it's luck that set the foundation and luck that gave me the opportunity."

"Yes… You are fortunate beyond compare."

"Is that what you wanted to teach me?" I asked him. He looked at me with glowing blue eyes. "All the aspects seemed to want to teach me something or remind me of my convictions. The Waves and Winds told me that death is an inseparable part of life. The Soulspinner told me that there is beauty in each strand, no matter how fragile, and that it's up to us to see that beauty. The Astral Fox reminded me of my immortality and the climb to come. What about you? Are you here to tell me how lucky I am? How absurdly blessed I am? Because I know that already."

"Must there be a lesson, little one?"

"Then why are you here?"

"I wished to see the newest to take the Mask Mother's gift. You will not fade, but eternity is a lonely road."

"Yeah, so the Fox said." I looked at him, truly looked, and felt a burst of pity. "Tell me, was it worth it?"

"Hmm?"

"Being one of the Kindred. Being the aspect of death for all of Shurima. Now that you're at the end, was the journey worth it?"

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"I… I do not know," he said. His voice echoed with anguished sorrow. "I do not know for I do not know my name."

And there was the true cruelty behind the Fading Icon's fate. He wasn't just someone who was destined to cease to exist. If it was only that, I could have brushed him off, perhaps I would have even mocked him. After all, everyone dies and an aspect of death bitching that it's his time seemed more than a little hypocritical.

That wasn't his fate. His fate was to fade, not merely vanish. Slowly, piece by piece, memory by memory. Like a puzzle being torn apart, it was his destiny to watch as everything he was turned to ashes in the breeze.

The two of us looked out over the crumbling ruins of the once grand city. "What's the last you remember?"

"I… I remember the Ascensions. Some came broken, from some battle or other. Others were proud and stalwart… Twins… Yes, there was a pair of twins who greeted the Sun Disc together."

"You remember the Ascensions? Not the deaths?"

"Is it not a death in itself? It was death, and a rebirth, for never again were they the same."

"Fair point."

"Even those memories dim."

I swallowed. "I think it was worth it," I told him. He looked at me quizzically. "This. Shurima. The Empire. Your tenure as their aspect of death. I think it was worth it."

"How so, little one?"

I shrugged. "The Soulspinner told me that mortals give meaning to our own lives independent of fate. The end is inevitable, but that doesn't mean the journey is meaningless. He found beauty in every strand. Maybe you can too?"

"Even if I remember nothing? Even if all that I remember will become nothing?"

"Even then. There is beauty in transience. You grieve for what you lost and that alone is proof that it was worth having at all."

"Perhaps. Such curious creatures, mortals. So weak, yet so much greater for it."

"Mortals gave birth to you. I'd say mortals can be plenty strong."

"Perhaps, little one. Perhaps." He was silent for a long time. "Is it lonelier to be forgotten or to carry on?"

"Does it matter? I refuse to count tragedies like coins."

"You are right. A final lesson… pity I will not remember this one."

"Then I will in your stead," I promised.

Before I could say more, he began to crumble, becoming dust in the breeze, much like his city. His mask was the last to go and as I felt the world shift around me, I thought I could spot a grateful smile.

I found myself in bed again, the Mask in hand. It was, as far as I could tell, unchanged. Appropriate for the Fading Icon to leave no trace of our encounter.

Looking deeper, I could feel traces of his magic lurking beneath the surface. It was faint, but I could feel it stirring. It was only much later that I realized what I'd witnessed.

I just saw a god die, not with a bang, but with a whimper.

X

2001, December 25: Sahara Desert, Africa

I decided to call my armor Anivia's Grace. I tossed around a lot of names like "Polaris," "Seven Stars," or some other celestial reference but ultimately decided against them. In the end, it was Anivia's blessing that helped me finish this masterpiece. It was only right that I name it, and the spell, in her honor.

Besides, as a rule, the Firstborn were pretty big on respect.

I practiced with the armor every chance I got. We didn't have any satellite imaging in Cauldron's Earth, but I suspected that if anyone looked down on the Sahara, there would be little polka dots of freshwater lakes left over from my training exercises. What that'd do for the environment, I didn't have the foggiest clue.

I was more concerned with trying to get some measure of control over it. At the moment, it was a rabid, uncontrollable beast, an all or nothing with the barest consideration granted for my possessions. Anyone near me that didn't have Shard-backed dimensional hijinks to protect them died. The impact of the falling hail alone was enough to make anything frozen by the storm fracture and scatter. It wasn't impossible that the likes of Armsmaster or Metalmaru could come up with a suit that won't freeze and break apart, but that would require careful testing.

Rebecca and Fortuna both agreed that learning to use my new armor to its full potential would be a priority, but neither could do much to help me. The best they could do for me was to acquire enough lab rats to feed all of India's snake population.

I cast an apologetic glance towards Lily #33, or the single crystalized paw and the few fragments of cheap plastic that made up her cage. She died swiftly.

"Door," I spoke into the wind, only now starting to die down now that I wasn't powering it. I ignored the slight chill in my muscles and stepped inside the Cauldron facility to retrieve Lily #34. If… If I could create the storm without killing a rat, then I could move on to monkeys, then perhaps a high-end brute Case-53 volunteer.

Lily #34 looked up at me and let out a happy little squeak. I dug in my pocket and gave her one final treat, a dried raisin. Grapes weren't good for rats, but that likely wouldn't be a concern for her. I dropped a few more raisins into the cage and watched her nibble at them hungrily.

"I'm sorry," I whispered before placing the cage on the desert floor. The Doorway closed behind me as I took a seat. Maybe it was just a familiarity thing, but it helped to take a meditative posture. Gingerly, I reached inward and felt my connection to the armor. By now, the mounting pressure was a familiar one.

I could feel it in my bones; Anivia's Grace was not beyond my ability to control, if not now then in the future. Like falling snow settling into place, I could feel the Firstborn's magic syncing with me with every use. Someday, this fragment of the Firstborn's power would belong to me. It was only a matter of time and will.

I turned the valve and did my best to hold back the snowstorm. To be brutally honest with myself, Lily #1 through #17 died for nothing. Back then, I threw myself against the rising swell of mana like an idiot, as though my intent alone would be enough to stem the power of a goddess, however diminished it may be. I failed predictably.

It wasn't until further reflection that I realized what was going on. In the end, I was a creator. The World Rune was the Rune of Inspiration. Throwing myself blindly forward wasn't good enough to harness its power, to be the counterweight against Anivia's magic.

I thought back to the Dream Blossom Censer. To this day, it was among my favorite pieces, not because it allowed Fortuna to operate in total anonymity or because it was such a cheat weapon that most capes simply lacked a response to it. No, it was because the creation of it was inspired. I took chamomile, dried daisies, and turned it into a branch of the God-Willow.

When I made it, I wasn't in a good place mentally. I was desperate to escape, desperate to rein in my thoughts, desperate to master myself. It was true what people said: Necessity really was the mother of invention.

I imagined. I saw every twisting vine, every blushing blossom that decorated Lilia's censer. I copied her masterwork and offered up a piece of myself into the crafting process. If I didn't have that to work on, I was sure I'd have gone insane in the Red Sands.

'A pity then, that it took me so long to remember such a vital lesson: Inspiration is imagination,' I thought wanly.

I felt the rising mana tinged with the divine and… let go. I stopped holding it back, stopped trying to collar the winter winds like a stray dog. Instead, I began to imagine.

Rather than bar its way, I guided the mana into my hands. Atop my crossed legs, my hands formed a familiar circle. Within it, the first of many violent snowflakes bloomed to life. It sat there, waiting, begging for me to give it shape.

There was only one who embodied the winter winds.

In my hands, the snow crystalized into an egg. And as though on fast forward, the egg hatched into an eagle with the purest blue plumage. It was heavy, weighty in a way that defied description. I shivered. Being in contact with a crystallization of Anivia's power was… an experience. Phantom pains wracked my body, reminders of just what the Undying Eagle's power really felt like.

When I could hold it no longer, I let it fly. It soared to a record height and just before it vanished from my gaze, it exploded, bathing the world in a violent storm.

That was the end of Lily #34.

"Well… shit," I muttered. Looking around, I could see larger chunks of the adorable lab rat.

X

I didn't know how long I practiced for, but at Lily #82, I finally had a survivor… for a while. She died a few minutes later of hypothermia, but she was in one piece, which was more than I could say thus far.

Finally having had enough of murdering lab rats, I called a Doorway back to the Madhouse. I was about to head to my locker to change out of my costume when my phone started to buzz.

"Hyunmu," I spoke.

Eugene's voice came through the line, utterly devoid of his usual cheer. "Describe the third endbringer."

"What?"

"Now," he stressed.

"Naked angel lady. Many wings. Asymmetrical."

"Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that. Evacuate. Get your mom out of here!"

"What's going o-" He hung up before I could finish the question. A second later, my phone buzzed again, a picture this time. It was the Capitol Building flanked by the Supreme Court and the Library of Congress to either side, a skyline I'd seen dozens of times before. Unlike those times, there was a figure who floated above, looking for all the world like Archangel Gabriel here to sing the first noel. "Fuck…"

The Simurgh had arrived, a year early.

Author's Note

In LoR, the Fading Icon has a much more desperate set of lines. I initially wanted to do the same, but I ended up with this. His encounter sounds a lot like a man dying of some terminal illness but that's because he kind of is.

I think I mentioned it before, but I had a lab rat in social psychology during university named Lily. She was cute. And probably smarter than me.

Cliffhanger? What's that? Nothing here. No siree.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.