Now, as it’s become commonplace for the name of a person to be decided at birth, many have neglected the signs of the stars and constellations. Without its consideration, the fate of a person becomes more and more indeterminable, and as such, many woes could persist later in their lives. Yet such a thing was of little note in the age I lived.

When my father had returned, seeing my face, he knew what must be done. All his soldiers stood and heralded a speech that my father was to give. There was a resounding cheer, and then dead silence. Not a murmur or chatter could be heard as all looked intent to my father to hear his words.

The King handed me to my mother. My mother held me with her head hung low in attention. I noticed the suspended motion of her jewelry, as if it too looked to my father with respect. Their gleaming lights reflecting my mother’s face with the hue of their colors enamored me. But its hold over my attention was weak in respect to the resolute king who stood before his subjects.

His grayed beard, immense frame, the cape bearing the sigil of the lion, and the scepter he bore in his hands. Was this who I was to become? A man whose accomplishments I had yet to know, but whose determination was enough for me to understand the greatness behind his reign. One to whom all gave respect, but unlike me, one who never sought to abuse it.

The soldiers, too, arrayed in silver armor, whose chest pieces bore the faces of their benefactors, whose capes shined like lights, all seemed like gods to my eyes. I, faced a sight that only one could dream, wasn’t one who just stood in the midst of it, but was now also a recipient.

I looked to each and every person in that vicinity with wonder in my eyes. As if I were seeing the Heavens. The rays above, that cut the clouds, focused their attention to the mass of people gathered. As like a stage, lone lights crept from above and shined on those who stood center to address.

The call for the play resounded.

The commander, his royal guard, and the close retinue that followed their king into the Northlands all kneeled to their regent. Swords were lifted high in respect. The horses neighed. The aerial ships halted in their motion. And then all was still. The crowd once again became as murmurs in the distance. The flowers the dotted the ground were set in concentric patterns to mimic the symbols of the Gods. And all close to the King whispered their prayers and admiration.

The King, my father, smiled to me. He turned and the effulgence of his halo brightened. He now seemed as the second coming of the Sun.

With a grand voice, he said, “O children of my land, hearken to these words! Many months have I persisted in the north, with those brave of men that accompanied me. Ever have we stood resolute in our conviction to reclaim our homes. The Gods, The Highest, and That One and All, surely stand by us in the eons long conflict that we have suffered. Yet I foresee this to come to a close. Our campaigns have at last borne fruit!

“The Demons have been brought low in the heart of their land! The assailers of many an era have succumbed to my wrath, and since our return, have been pushed to the original extant border. Many a regiment still now engages in that region, but the Demons will soon face their end. Should they continue to persist in their unlawful occupation of the Foremother and the Freelands, which we inhabit, then by the will of the Gods and by That One which is All, they shall surely fall! This I swear!”

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When his speech had closed, a resounding cheer erupted from the throng, and all shouted, “Dehamar, favor the Immortal King!”

It was strange to see such heartfelt enthusiasm. The words of my father were not empty, for he wholeheartedly believed what he said. But given the decadence and corruption of my world, there wasn’t much to be trusted in the words of the statesmen and officials. They may have overseen our nations and peoples, but in most cases, their aim was wealth or power, of which they gained in multitudes.

I can’t say now whether such things persist there, but as the cycles continue to shift here and reflect the ever-changing states of mind of the people, so too must it do so in my old home. For all worlds are indeed governed by the one presiding above all.

With the denizens having been dispensed the good news, my father returned to his quarters and the great throng was dispersed. He consulted with his ministers on many matters concerning the outside. Many troubles still laid in the distance, but the council he held was satisfied enough with the conclusion of the current battle.

As he was doing this, I was left to my devices with my mother. We had gone to her quarters, where she rested with me on the bed. She suckled me, and I could feel my eyes become dreary as I rested on her bosom.

Though a strange thought, I wondered to myself whether the jewelry she bore was heavy. For she had many strands of necklaces, chokers, and gems all across her person. I had only seen likenesses of such people in the drawings of old figures in my previous life.

But they would do disservice to what my mother bore on her person. Her face fair as a lotus. Her hair like gold itself, that though brown in color, shined like light made physical. Her dress so familiar to me, as to recall the robes of the ancients of my world. Yet infused with tints of valuable gems and a luster that even the most precious of metals could only envy.

All to say that my mother was one who bewitched me in my crude state of mind. Indeed, I should say she was the first person I loved in this world. And while I should think lust for her would’ve encased my mind, it was anything but that.

My heart was calm, and my mind still. And for that time, all thoughts of self-doubt left me. But I could see whatever effect her presence had on me didn’t occur the other way. For her eyes were moist, laden with tears.

She looked to me with those somber eyes, wondering whether I could understand what she said. Even with my hearing faint, I could still make out her words.

“O son, I look into you, to see what it is you think,” she said with tears in her eyes. “But scarce an idea I have in what it is you seek. You do not cry, yet you still trouble us. You look overhead wishing to say things, but only babbles come from your mouth. We give you the world’s luxuries, but they strike no amusement in you. What else is it you desire from us? We who have showered the world’s love upon you, why do you not hearken to us?”

It seemed to me—at the time—that no matter where one traveled, the emotions that cloud judgement persist everywhere. Humans, nay, the Marhan are alike no matter where one goes. The rules of the world may change, but the peoples don’t.

I listened to her, but could not respond past my babbles. I was not frustrated, nor sad. Yet a level of guilt wracked me from hearing those words, thinking to myself that I should here be a dutiful child, where I had failed even that in my previous life.

With tears still streaming across her cheeks, I fell to slumber, seeing the image I had not seen for a while, one whose script was still yet unintelligible.