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Chapter LXXXII : Ave Sophia

Latemorn of Denuo, First Day of Duskmoon

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The trip back to Minoa was quiet. Bram was eager to hear from Matthias and Mica, but they had little to say. Like Bram, their encounter with the Great Sage was deeply personal. Mica was happy to announce that her pilgrimage was complete, and she gained the wisdom she had been seeking. But she also asked that she be allowed to wait until within the presence of the Gurudeva before revealing any details.

Matthias revealed a bit more. He described being transported to a great library, larger than anything he had seen before. He recognized it as the Literarium, a lost pinnacle of magical knowledge. Supposedly, it was destroyed in the legendary Mage Wars centuries ago, which involved factions of scholars with fiercely differing opinions. Some wanted to align with laymen, while others wanted to enslave them. Through these wars, the Scholars Creed was forged.

Of course, the library’s contents were thought to have been utterly unrecoverable, but somehow Baraqiel recreated the contents in their entirety. And his gift to Matthias was to allow him to study there for as long as he wished. His only limitation was that he couldn’t take anything back with him.

Unwilling to miss even a scrap of opportunity, he dove into the old tomes and learned many complex spells and rituals. He performed some of these on himself, which greatly expanded his manna production and taught him many new techniques. To Matthias, it felt like weeks or even months. But as soon as he left the library, full of knowledge and power, he found himself on the stone bridge of the crevasse, only minutes away from when he had entered.

Bram was impressed at Baraqiel’s powers, but more than that, he was happy to hear that Matthias had gained so many new skills. Between his Grigori relics and his companion’s improved spellcasting, he felt optimistic about the road ahead. Not enough to face the Ahrimen directly, but it was a start.

Matthias was now eager to show off his skills, including a method he hoped would get them to Minoa faster. He already had some experience with the complex spell of translocation, having used it many times to accelerate his travels around the world. However, the original spell had severe limitations. Spanning long distances was dangerous, and taking passengers was impractical due to its fast drain on manna.

However, with a few tweaks, he cast the spell in increments to open magical shortcuts in the Ancient Minoan road, each subtracting hours from the total trip. It required resting in between, but the spell helped the three travelers reach the refugee village in a fraction of time. It was easily twice as fast as by viscar, and many times faster than foot.

When they came within sight of the Gaian temple, Bram paused. He noticed a large crowd had swarmed in front of the entrance. There must have been hundreds of villagers, squeezed shoulder to shoulder.

Before moving in closer, he asked Mica about it. “What’s going on?”

Her response was a bit cagey. “I, uh … think they’re here to see you.”

It didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean? How would they know?”

She explained. “You see … I wasn’t exactly forthcoming a few days ago, when we talked about the Prophesy. I told you that I secretly wanted to be the Savior, but … only because I thought I had a really good chance. When the Gurudeva chose me to go on my pilgrimage, it was just a few days away from when the Prophesy predicted the Savior’s arrival. That arrival is today, in fact. I guess I was wrong to assume it would be me, but, still … the Savior’s return is wonderful news, no matter who it is.”

To Bram, it felt like a bad sign. After being nearly stoned to death by the same villagers, he didn’t expect they’d react well to a Gnostic Knight being named their goddess’s champion. Even one who had forsaken his old line of work. Worse, his new armor stuck out like a banner bearer with a horn. He didn’t want to risk another confrontation.

“Isn’t there a side entrance, so we can avoid the crowds?”

Mica looked at him strangely.

Matthias jumped in and pointed. “Bram, look.”

The crowd opened up, and the Gurudeva emerged. He used a spell to amplify his voice, so it was heard over the din of the crowd. “My dear sons and daughters, please give me your attention.”

The crowd quieted to heed their leader’s announcement.

He cleared his throat and spoke in a loud voice. “Gaia smiles upon us this day, for it is mentioned in Her Prophesy that our Savior is due to arrive.”

The crowd cheered. It sounded like they could barely contain their excitement.

The Gurudeva held out his hands in an attempt to urge silence. He waited for them to quiet before continuing. “However, now is not the proper time. Our clergy still has much to prepare, so I ask that you return to your homes and only come back an hour before sunset.”

The murmurs of the crowd could be heard, even from Bram’s distance, beneath a willow tree near the Minoan Road. Clearly, the villagers were disappointed and reluctant to leave. So the Gurudeva urged them once more.

“Please. These are trying times, and many of you have waited years to witness this miracle. Nevertheless, your presence only slows our preparations. I promise you this: You shall bear witness to Gaia’s blessings before the day is through. In the meantime, have patience. And may Gaia’s love be with you all.”

Bram kept his distance while the crowd dispersed, and he urged Mica and Matthias to do the same.

“I don’t get it,” she told him. “They came here to see you. It should be an honor.”

Bram shook his head. “They came to see their Savior, not the Gnostic Knight who terrorized their village. I might look like a new man in this shiny, new armor, but many of them won’t be fooled. We can’t just show up without someone preparing them, first.”

Matthias agreed. “Aye, he’s right, ya know. And Ah think he knows it, too.”

The old scholar pointed to the Gurudeva, who made his way to the willow tree, as if he knew they would be there. By the time he arrived, most of the villagers had dispersed.

He beckoned Bram and the others to follow him back. “It’s alright. I’ve arranged for some privacy, so we can talk.”

Matthias cleared his throat, and the Gurudeva seemed to recognize him for the first time. His eyes went wide. “Master Deleuze! It’s been a long time. I must say, I’m surprised to see you.”

The old scholar huffed. “Same goes for you, too, Christian. Or, perhaps Ah should say it isn’t a surprise t’ see ya here, of all places. As leader o’ the Gaians, no less.”

Bram didn’t know there was history between the two, and he wasn’t deaf to the accusatory undertones, either. Nevertheless, the Gaian faith leader passed it off as if nothing happened.

He smiled politely. “Please, join me inside. For obvious reasons, I think it’s best if you followed quickly and kept a low profile.”

Bram had no reason to disagree. He drew a deep breath and readied himself. “Alright. Let’s go.”

He marched quickly, feeling conspicuous, out in the open. He was far more comfortable indoors. In the privacy of the temple, the Gurudeva welcomed Mica with open arms.

“Welcome home, Daughter! Your pilgrimage is complete, and you’ve made us all very proud.”

She hugged him back, beaming with joy.

He turned to Bram. “Sir Morrison, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from your journey. When Mica brought you before me the other day … well … I don’t suppose I knew what form the Savior would be when he arrived. Even so, I hardly thought it’d be the same Gnostic Knight who stole our sunstone and served as an accomplice to murder.”

Bram felt irked, realizing they had intentionally kept him ignorant of what the Prophesy foretold. “Mica told me already. Is it true that you knew the precise day and hour … even the location … of where you’d find your ‘Savior’?”

The Gurudeva hesitated before answering. “Understand that each of our experiences at the Crevasse is different, Sir Morrison. I was but a young man when I went on my pilgrimage, nearly thirty years ago. Master Deleuze, here, might remember me from my bombastic days as a student at the Nexus, when I argued with my professors and raised hellfire over my … differences of belief. I came to Minoa searching for answers. And when I found them, it changed my life.”

He paused to collect himself, clearly experiencing an emotional toll from his memories. “Everyone who comes to Minoa has a story to tell. Most significant, perhaps, are from the priests and priestesses who visit the Great Crevasse. I can’t explain exactly what happened, but when I returned from my pilgrimage, I heard voices. They said the same thing, every day, over and over, during sleep as well as waking hours. Over the years, they slowly faded … until I heard them again last week, around the time you washed up on our shore. As the Goddess is my witness, I knew our Savior had arrived. And I knew precisely how I’d meet him.”

Bram wondered if the Gurudeva’s faith would be shaken, once he learned what the Great Sage had revealed to him. Even so, he knew it was not the time. First, he needed to confront the man who played him like a puppet.

“You tricked me to go on this journey. You could have put me on a ship and sent me on my way. Or at least ask what I wanted. Instead, you forced this responsibility on me.”

Mica looked at him pleadingly. “But, Bram … aren’t you happy with this gift? I thought you wanted a chance to atone.”

The Gurudeva sighed. “At ease, Daughter. He’s right. We didn’t give him a choice. We followed our hearts, but the Goddess would have wanted us to secure Sir Morrison’s consent, too.”

Bram removed the diadem from his head and regarded it closely. His heart swelled as he considered his words carefully. “I do want atonement, Mica. You know this more than anyone. And I know … what I must do to achieve it … must come before my own wants or needs. Even though … all I want … is to be reunited with the ones I love. I went on this journey for them. Not for power or the opportunity to face the Ahrimen. In fact, I had hoped to find a way to atone that didn’t require I throw my life away to impossible odds. I might be the one your Prophesy predicted, but I don’t understand how I’m supposed to accomplish what it wants me to do.”

The Gurudeva’s expression changed, almost as if he looked at Bram with respect. “Truth be told, Sir Morrison, you took us all by surprise. We have known the Goddess’ will to be mysterious, but when you arrived, there wasn’t a single priest or priestess in the room happy to see the man who terrorized them, instead of what they expected from a man destined to cleanse the world of evil. It was difficult to reconcile, no matter how strong a person’s faith.”

Bram would have accepted that answer, but it seemed the Gurudeva wasn’t finished. “As skeptical as I was that first day, I did as my faith commanded. I knew there was only one way to know for sure if you were the chosen, and that was to send you on the same spiritual journey that provided me with knowledge of the Prophesy. I misjudged you, that much is now clear. But I think the lesson is to learn and appreciate what it means to have faith, even if you don’t understand where it will take you.”

He reached out and placed his hand on Bram’s new armor. “You certainly wear the Goddess’ gifts well, Sir Morrison.”

Whether it was Faith, Fate, or something else, Bram was beginning to understand that there was more to his journey than what he could comprehend. He might not have liked his path, but he was destined to walk it. And he appreciated that Mica and the Gurudeva followed their hearts, rather than tossing him aside because of how he appeared the first time he came to Minoa.

He wasn’t sure how to tell them that, but he started by accepting the compliment. “Thank you, Gurudeva.”

Mica smiled, looking relieved.

The spiritual leader followed suit. It was the first time Bram had seen him genuinely smile. “How about you call me by my name from now on. It’s Christian.”

The Knight nodded. “In that case, call me Bram. I prefer it over ‘Sir Morrison’, anyway.”

Christian extended his hand, and the two shook. “In that case, Bram, why don’t you and the others join me in the vestry, where we can discuss your journey in detail?”

Bram and his companions followed the Minoan faith leader to a small room on the side of the temple, which the clergy used to prepare themselves before temple service. It had a small, round table and chairs, though barely enough to contain the bulk of Bram’s Grigori armor. Nevertheless, he sat in one and made himself comfortable. It seemed to bear his weight without a problem.

Christian placed his hands upon the table. “I’d like to hear everything, if you don’t mind. Who’d like to start?”

Matthias spoke first. “How ‘bout we start with th’ magic of th’ Crevasse itself? Did ya know there was a Great Sage livin’ there?”

Christian rolled his eyes. “No, no … it’s just an old hermit who maintains the shrine. His name is, uh … Asura Mazda, I think.”

Bram corrected him. “That’s what Mica told us, too. But I spoke to the spirit at the shrine, and indeed, it claimed to be one of the legendary Great Sages. It goes by the name ‘Baraqiel’ and claims that Asura Mazda was no more than an old man who once lived there. According to this spirit, its powers are greatly diminished, but nevertheless it’s the source of all magic there. Your visions … all the wisdom given to priests and priestesses over the years … it all came from a Great Sage.”

Christian’s mouth hung open, looking like he struggled to process the news. “I can’t believe it … could it be …?”

Bram wanted to see if the Gurudeva had any unique knowledge on the subject. “Surely you must know a bit about the Great Sages, don’t you? Given your leadership and access to all of Minoan history, you must have learned about them. What can you tell us?”

Bram detected a bit of hesitance.

“It’s … true that our temple holds many precious artifacts, Bram: old texts, journals, and centuries worth of ecclesiastic records. However, I’ve rarely come across answers that reveal the mysteries of these ancient beings.”

Bram found it hard to believe. “Weren’t the Great Sages a fundamental part of the original battle against the Ahrimen? Wouldn’t that make them core to your faith, and wouldn’t your historians have kept accurate records?”

Christian shook his head. “As is common knowledge, most of our history was swept away during the great cataclysms of the Omega war, a thousand years ago. We have many records, Bram, but none that date so far back. I could relay folklore and tell you that the Great Sages were manifestations of the Goddess, born as spiritual fragments of Gaia’s own soul. But that’s just one interpretation, and I’m sure you’ve already heard it, or something close to it. Rather, let me ask you this: how could a spirit belonging to a Great Sage have stayed hidden in plain sight for so many generations, never exposing its true nature until now?”

Bram shook his head. “I hoped you had the answers. Baraqiel suggested that he was trapped in the shrine for a long time. He said the shrine had become a prison after some kind of tragedy befell him. But he wouldn’t elaborate, even when asked. His final advice was that I seek you. Apparently, you’d know what to do next.”

The faith leader scoffed. “I don’t know about that. This Great Sage must have too high an opinion of me, because I have no better idea than you.”

Bram was so frustrated, he could have bashed through the table. “Are you joking? What about the Prophesy? Doesn’t it tell you what to do next?”

Christian crossed his brows. “I kept a detailed journal of what the voices told me, and you’re welcome to read it, if you’re so inclined. But let me summarize: It said a ‘Savior’ would come and save us in our time of greatest need. It said the ‘Father of Lies’ would steal our sunstone and release the ‘Children of Chaos’ into the world. Those are archaic terms, I know, but they refer to the Ahrimen. And it promised, should they escape from their sunstones, there would be a new calamity upon the world, worse than the first. Our only hope was to await the Savior’s coming, which I have dutifully done these thirty years. Thirty years, Bram! Despite all that time, I have gained no new knowledge until last week. Like I said ….”

He trailed off, and his eyes wandered. He blinked a few times, and his eyes went wide, as if struck by an epiphany. Bram glared at him, hoping he had discovered something useful.

“Well, go on,” Matthias urged. “Tell us what ya think.”

Christian spoke in an eerily sober voice. “When were you born, Bram?”

The Knight was caught off guard. “Well … I’m twenty-nine, and I used to celebrate my birth in Summermoon. That’s only according to the man who raised me. I was an orphan, you see, so I never knew the exact day of my birth. Why?”

The Gurudeva stood up so fast he shook the table and gave everyone a start. His eyes went directly to Bram. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

He led the group through the temple to a back room, which had shelves full of beautifully bound books and detailed oil paintings of distinguished priests and priestesses on the walls. Huge, arched ceilings and stained glass windows towered over the room, letting in a steady stream of daylight.

Christian closed the doors behind them. “We call this our Honorarium. It contains the personal effects of our most cherished clergy throughout history. And while there are many treasures in this room, few are more personal to our current congregation than this painting over here.”

He brought Bram to what could easily be called the room’s centerpiece. Brightly lit in the middle of the back wall, with plenty of sunlight filtered through stained glass, was a portrait of a young lady. She had coppery hair with wavy tresses down to her shoulders, emerald-green eyes, and a fair complexion. She sat on a plain wooden chair with red velvet cushions and wore a simple blue sorceress’ robe.

The only distinguishing feature was a medallion around her neck. It was the symbol of Gaia, divided into colors representing the four sunstones: red, blue, green, and gold. Her hands were folded delicately on her lap. It was a surprisingly modest painting. Even so, behind her graceful face and radiant smile were untold layers of depth and meaning.

Christian cleared his throat. “I brought you here to show you this depiction of our revered priestess, Sophia Pistille. She was a tireless servant of the poor and less fortunate, and many attribute her efforts to the success of our sprawling village, which has saved countless lives over the years. The Minoa you see today didn’t start because of The War on the Northern Continent. Thirty years ago, this was no more than a humble settlement, built around the temple, with just enough lodging to house the clergy and its staff. Yet, look at it today.”

Indeed, if size and capacity for refugees was the metric for success, Minoa was a triumph. But it wasn’t Sophia’s accomplishment that impressed Bram. Rather, he felt a deep emotional connection to the painting itself. A connection he couldn’t explain.

It seemed Christian noticed. “Sophia was the purest soul I’d ever met. But, I suspect you feel more than just reverence for her likeness. Am I right, Bram?”

The Knight shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never met her.”

The Gurudeva pressed harder. “I’m not asking you to recall having met her. I’m asking that you trust your heart. What does it tell you?”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Bram tried to interpret what that meant. It was true he felt something, but it wasn’t something he could explain. “I’m not sure. I … feel as though I want to meet the person in the painting, but I suppose it’s just a nod to the talent of the painter. Why are you showing us this?”

Christian let out a deep sigh. “Bram … if you’re to be our champion, you must embrace what your heart tells you. I know that searching your feelings might be counter to a lifetime of training for a Gnostic Knight, and you might be tempted to pass off what you know in your heart to be true. Nevertheless, I ask that you look deeper, and do so now, before I tell my story. Only then can I be sure.”

Bram closed his eyes. Soldiers had no need to check their heart every time they made a decision. Doing so only got them killed. Perhaps that was why he denied his feelings so often. Not long ago, he denied his love for Rosa, until he returned from Minoa the first time and realized how much he needed her. He then denied his love for Yuri, thinking that he was no more than a protector to atone for his part in releasing the demonspawn on their village. It wasn’t until Rosa proposed the idea of being a family that he actually embraced it. Finally, he denied his sibling relationship with Samuel. Despite seeing him in Loulan and knowing in his heart that they were brothers, he refused to believe it until Baraqiel forced him to confront the truth. The Gurudeva was right: he needed to listen to his heart and trust his feelings.

He searched inward. “Sophia. She’s … my mother.”

Mica looked shocked. “Didn’t you just say you never knew your parents?”

The Gurudeva smiled. “I was hoping your feelings would reveal the truth, Bram. You could not have made such a connection, otherwise. How could you have? This painting is more than thirty years old.”

Matthias stepped in, looking cross. “What kind o’ games are you playin’, here, Christian? What makes you think this priestess has anything t’ do with Bram?”

The Gurudeva grew somber as he explained. “For reasons you will soon understand, I suspected that he was Sophia’s child. But I didn’t want to reveal it outright. I wanted to know if Bram could feel the connection, first.”

As the Knight stared at the painting, he saw goodness and purity, virtues he always hoped to find in his birth parents. He was saddened and angered to learn about Samuel and Azazel, knowing how little they cared for the people they’d hurt to attain their goals. But Sophia gave him hope that love and kindness were truly a part of him. He wanted to know more about her.

“Tell us your story, Christian. I’ve confirmed your suspicions, so now you must explain what happened to her. I already see on the placard at the base of the painting that her life ended around the same time I was born. I suspect this timing is how you first made the connection. So, please … tell me.”

Christian led them to a pair of sofas in the corner. “Sit. We’ll continue our stories here.”

Bram’s stomach knotted as he awaited the answers that he had spent a lifetime seeking. For so many years, he longed to find evidence of his parents. And now, he wanted something tactile. He wanted to go to the painting and gaze upon his birth mother, just to bask in her likeness, finally personified. He wanted to reach out and make physical contact. Anything, just to feel with his own hands. But he held back, only out of a greater need to learn of her eventual fate.

As soon as they were seated, the Gurudeva began. “First, I must tell you a bit about myself, which sets some important context.”

Bram waited, impatiently, for Christian to say his peace and move on.

“Before I arrived in Minoa, I was an outcast: Born into the secular world alongside peers who had forgotten the ways of our ancestors. I read about the Goddess while studying at the Nexus, but no one there took the Gaian faith seriously. I even made my case before the Circle of Sorcerers in a thesis that challenged their Zoroastrian beliefs. Unfortunately, they ridiculed my theories and left me with no other choice but to leave Vineta and find a place where I could share my beliefs with those of the same faith.”

Bram saw Matthias roll his eyes. He wasn’t all that familiar with Zoroastrianism, except that he knew of villages deep in the western valleys of Angkor that still practiced those beliefs. However, it wasn’t prevalent in broader society. He recalled that it tended to focus on the afterlife. In particular, a place known as the Zohar, where the souls of people became one with the essence of magic until brought back to the physical realm and born into a new body. Naturally, the sorcerers of Vineta had a strong desire to research the nature of magic, so Zoroastrianism took root there more strongly than other parts of the world.

Christian continued. “I knew immediately that Minoa was where I belonged. But of all the wonderful people I met here within my first few days, none left a greater impression than Sophia.”

He took a deep breath. Clearly, his memories weighed on him heavily.

“She was born in Minoa, where her family has lived for generations as servants to the priesthood. Sophia, though, went farther than her family ever had. She had visions of making Minoa into a place where everyone was welcome, and she spent years working on plans to expand the village with a system of rules and laws that could accommodate a large influx of people. The Gurudeva at the time was so impressed, he granted her an honorary entry into the priesthood, even though our tradition has been to only accept scholars into our ranks.”

Mica raised her hand. “Does that mean Sophia was allowed to wear blue sorceress’ robes, even though she was a laywoman and produced no blue manna of her own?”

“That’s right, Daughter. She had done so much for the priesthood, we couldn’t deny her a place among us.”

Mica looked thoughtful. “Does that mean she also made a pilgrimage to the Crevasse?”

The Gurudeva smiled. “You have excellent intuition, Child. In fact, Sophia and I went on our journey there together. She and I were both older than other Acolytes, having been inducted into the priesthood late. However, Fate brought us together, and it made us friends and confidants. I was honored to have known her.”

His expression turned dour. “Sadly, our time together was brief. When she returned from the Crevasse, something changed inside of her. She had always been so bright and full of life, infectiously happy, and outgoing. But after that day, she became withdrawn. Introverted.”

Bram wondered about her encounter with Baraqiel. Something must have happened to cause her distress. “What did she say about her experience in the Crevasse?”

Christian shook his head. “I begged her to speak to me about it, but she only told me that there were things she needed to do. Then, on the fifth morning of her return, she disappeared for three whole months without a trace. No one saw her leave, and no one knew where she had gone.”

“No trace?” Bram was angry and confused. “Didn’t you search her room or personal belongings? If she was Minoa’s most cherished priestess, it must have been devastating.”

“Indeed, it was,” Christian confirmed. “There were massive searches and plenty of investigations, I assure you. But when I said ‘no trace’, I meant it. The clergy was crestfallen, and it took years for us to recover.”

Mica leaned forward. “But she came back, didn’t she? You said she was gone for three months. That means you saw her again, right?”

The Gurudeva nodded. “Yes, she came back to the temple, but only briefly. And only to speak with me. I can’t tell you how hard it was to explain to the others why she left a second time without seeing them. It was the last time anyone ever saw her, in fact.”

Bram’s whole body shook. “She came back pregnant, didn’t she? Was that why she left? Was she driven away?”

Christian held up his hands passively. “You must know, Bram, that such a thing is hardly a crime in Minoan society. Gaian Priestesses are sworn to celibacy, and it would have disqualified her from continuing in the priesthood, but the community loved her so much they would have gladly helped her transition back to secular life. Even so, she was convinced that she had to leave Minoa altogether.”

Bram considered what he knew about Azazel and wondered what Christian might say if questioned carefully. “Did she reveal anything about the father?”

The Gurudeva almost shrank back. “That’s just the thing. She claimed she had never been with another man. Yet she believed the baby was in danger. That someone pursued her, and she needed to escape. She begged for my help, so I arranged a way to take her to the Northern Continent.”

Bram couldn’t believe it. The whole tale sounded arbitrary and unfair. Had Sophia been better protected, he would have been born into a loving community. But he was robbed of the childhood he truly deserved. He had to find out why. “Who was it that pursued her? Who would want to harm a Gaian priestess’ unborn baby?”

Christian shook his head. “She didn’t tell me, Bram. Though I was tempted to involve the other clergy, it would have gone against her wishes and the trust she placed in me to uphold her confidence. The only thing I could do was assist as best I could.”

Bram’s voice rose in volume before he could control it. “If you helped her to leave, then how do you know she didn’t make it? How do you know she died?”

“Because … she promised to write me anonymously, but I never heard from her again. No one did. I can only assume that she gave birth and didn’t live long after that. She would have reached out, otherwise. I just know it.”

Bram wanted to lash out, but no one deserved his anger more than his father. Azazel must have given her a pregnancy through unconventional means and then hunted her down to get the baby. Two, in fact. She must have found a way to protect one son, while Samuel was taken and raised separately, with knowledge of his father. It was the only explanation. But that meant ….

He felt himself tear up. Mica must have noticed, because she tried to console him.

“Bram, I’m so sorry. It’s such a tragic tale. But I want you to know that we’re here for you.”

Bram had to smile. Mica couldn’t possibly understand, so he explained. “Thank you. It’s very kind. But in truth, I’m more angered by my mother’s fate than saddened by it. What affects me more is knowing that my mother wanted to protect me. You see, the man who raised me once told me that he found me alone in the forest one day while hunting, and all this time I thought it was because my real mother had abandoned me. I wanted to believe otherwise, but I always wondered … and always doubted. Now that I know ….” He paused to steady his voice. “I can finally be at peace with something that’s haunted me for a very long time.”

He sat back quietly to collect himself. The others remained silent to give him the time he needed. After a period, Christian spoke.

“There’s one more thing you should know, Bram.”

The Knight looked up to meet his gaze.

“You weren’t the only child that Sophia carried. You have a fraternal twin. And I think you already knew.”

Mica and Matthias turned their attention to the Gurudeva.

The old scholar scoffed and shook his head, disapprovingly. “Ya checked inside the womb, didn’t ya?”

Christian lowered his head. “You might consider it an invasion of privacy, but you must understand how worried I was. I needed to be sure the child was healthy before I sent my dear friend away. So, yes, I used my magic to look inside the womb.”

Bram nodded. “It’s true. When I was at Loulan, I fought to defend their sunstone from Angkor’s attack, and I was part of the final defense, which tried to hold down the entrance to the Gaian temple. Another Gnostic Knight made it through, who was both a master swordsman as well as an accomplished wizard.”

Mica gasped and realized she had interrupted the story. “Sorry! It’s just rare, is all. Scholars don’t usually train as swordsmen, and vice versa. I mean, who has the time?”

“It’s alright, Mica.” Bram was eager to finish his story. “Anyway, this Gnostic Knight removed his helm, and he …. I mean, I’ve gone my whole life and haven’t found a single man my age with my same hair and skin tone, yet this man had both. Not only that … but he looked just like me!”

“You’re sure, though, Bram? ‘Cause if what ya say is true ….”

Bram knew where Matthias was going. The old scholar was dedicated to enacting justice for Angela’s death. And if Samuel was their enemy, he wouldn’t hesitate to strike him down. It was time for the truth to come out.

“It’s true, Matthias. Baraqiel showed me many things in the Crevasse, including the identity of the villains behind Angkor’s aggression. Not King Richard or the Ahrimen, but the true masterminds. And it’s time I shared what else I know ….”

Bram described his encounter in the crevasse, the illusion of his brother, and what he claimed was the true motivation behind gathering the sunstones. The rest of the room was too stunned to respond.

“Christian? Matthias? Mica …? Don’t you have anything to say?”

Matthias shrugged and shook his head. “What can Ah say t’ that? It’s off the charts!”

“No, it makes perfect sense,” Mica argued. “In the Gurudeva’s story, Sophia claimed to have never been with a man, yet she was pregnant. If Bram’s father was a spirit, then—.”

“Oh, for Gaia’s sake, look at th’ man. He’s flesh an’ bone, not a damned ghost.”

Mica sulked. “You don’t have to take the Goddess’ name in vain, you know.”

Christian held out his hands. “Daughter, please. Master Deleuze, too. We must treat each other with respect. Bram has relayed what he learned with courage and honesty. Though much of it is mysterious to us, we mustn’t criticize our sincere attempts to understand it.”

Matthias crossed his arms defiantly. “So that’s it, then? We accept that Bram’s the product of a Gaian Priestess and a Great Sage, who wants to remake the world, and is willin’ t’ release the Ahrimen t’ do it? And here Ah thought we might have a chance t’ infiltrate Angkor and take out King Richard b’fore any o’ the demons actually escaped their prisons. Now I learn that one o’ the Goddess’ own creations has turned against mankind and is willin’ t' doom whichever half o’ the world isn’t willin’ to join him. We’re supposed t’ face that?”

Christian met his gaze levelly. “No one is forcing you to do anything, Master Deleuze. Your talents are extraordinary, but you aren’t a part of the Prophesy. I don’t plan to stand by while the world is consumed by hellfire, but whether or not you join us is up to you.”

Bram tensed, worried that his most adept companion might be tempted to bow out.

But Matthias only chuckled. “Yeah … it’s not what Ah signed up for, but it’s not as if Ah’ve anything else t’ do wit’ my remaining days. Ah’m not the type t’ sit around and wait for hellfire t’ consume me, either.”

Bram felt he needed to reiterate his own support. “That’s right. None of us will join a cause that dooms anyone’s souls to the Ahrimen. And we’re not going to wait for those demons to subject us to an eternity of suffering, either. That means we fight, even if the odds are against us.”

Matthias grumbled, but he voiced his support. “Aye. We fight. Count me in.”

“Same goes for me, too.”

Bram had almost forgotten about Mica. He assumed she would take on her new role as priestess in the Minoan temple. He couldn’t possibly take her on a journey that would inevitably lead to a fight against the Ahrimen or a Great Sage. Those were impossible odds, against profane and abominable foes, and there was no way he’d allow a teenage girl to have to face it.

“No, Mica. You can’t come with us.”

She gasped with incredulity. “Why not? Because you don’t think I understand the danger, or you don’t think I’m capable? Which is it?”

Bram held his ground. “Because I can’t accept the responsibility. You’re a good person, Mica, and you belong here, with this loving community. Facing the Ahrimen isn’t just dangerous. They’re savage and brutal and capable of things I hope you’ll never have to witness. Even if we survive the battle, we could end up with a terrible burden. I don’t even know how we’ll take the sunstones with us, when just handling them invites the demon’s corruption. Certainly, I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed that trauma on a benevolent young lady like yourself.”

Mica stewed in silence while Bram spoke, as if hungry for her chance to respond. When he finished, she took it. “I want you to know, Bram … it wasn’t you who killed my parents.”

The words had their intended effect. It felt as if the ground dropped out from under him.

“That’s what the spirit at the shrine told me. Sadly, it seems they were trampled while they tried to escape the village. That’s one less sin you need to worry about. So how about it? Do you want to know what else the spirit told me?”

The Gurudeva looked shaken. “Daughter, what’s come over you?”

Bram stepped in. It was his responsibility to explain. “Mica refers to my days as a Gnostic Knight. During The War, I followed orders that today give me great shame and guilt. One of them involved clearing out a civilian settlement, so Angkorian troops could march through and outflank their Koban counterparts. We were told to chase out anyone living there, so we did. Some of my comrades set fire to homes to encourage people to clear out faster. I could have done something to stop it, but I didn’t. Whether Mica’s parents died by my sword, or by the boots of those fleeing for their lives, it doesn’t absolve me of my responsibility. I hope Mica understands that.”

She faced him defiantly. “And I hope you understand this irony the same as I do, Bram. I was a little girl, but your actions made me into an orphan and a refugee. I didn’t have a choice. You have no idea the traumas I faced back then, or how hard it was to stop the nightmares and pull myself out of a self-destructive spiral. For a while, I was angry, and all I wanted to do was hurt the people around me.”

Bram had never seen Mica so angry. But he didn’t deserve her wrath. All he wanted was to save her from more misery. Nevertheless, he gave her the respect of letting her finish.

“To be honest, I don’t think I could have done it alone. I had a lot of good people around me, that much is true. But I credit Gaia’s own love for my recovery. My faith is strong, and you do me no service by denying me what I’m destined to do. That’s all I ask. Instead of doing what you think is right and making choices for me, just let me make my own choice.”

The Gurudeva stepped in. “Daughter, you’ve made your point. Please give Bram some time to consider your proposal.”

Mica swallowed her protests and nodded politely.

Bram wanted to assure the young priestess that he respected her deeply, but he figured there would be time for that later. In the meantime, it was important to strategize on next steps.

“Let’s get to the important part: what we need to do next. We now know our enemy, and we know what they want. The question is, what to do first? Gather more intelligence? Or look for allies?”

Christian provided his own idea. “Or, you could confront the enemy directly.”

Matthias chuckled. “Oh, sure, we can just sail right into Angkor’s harbor, and I’m sure they’ll let us dock and give us a fine ol’ audience with good King Richard and his demon. Is that about right? ‘Cause Ah don’t see how else we’ll get anywhere near it.”

Bram faced the old scholar. “You did it before, didn’t you?”

“Aye, an’ Ah feel downright stupid for the risk Ah took, knowin’ now what’s inside.”

Bram needed a better handle on the reasons behind Matthias’ hesitance. “What about your new powers? Not that I agree that going to Angkor first is such a great idea, but I figure we’ll need to get inside eventually.”

The old scholar went back to crossing his arms. “Aye, eventually. Once we’re far better equipped, if ya ask me.”

Christian leaned forward. “What if I told you I could get you inside the capital without anyone knowing?”

Matthias laughed. “Unless ya’ve got some magic Ah don’t know about—”

“I do.”

Bram wanted to take the suggestion seriously. “Let’s think it through. The longer we wait to strike, the more powerful our enemy grows. If it’s possible to keep the Ahrimen contained inside their sunstones, we might have a chance to stop the whole tragedy from unfolding in the first place.”

Matthias sounded skeptical. “What makes ya think they haven’t already escaped? Did you forget already the shape that Angkor’s in?”

Christian offered a different point of view. “The Pisces Stone that Angkor stole from us contains the Ahriman known as Abaddon, a demon of incredible wrath and cruelty. If he escaped, we’d know about it, because he’d travel the world to enact vengeance. Minoa would probably be the first target, too, since we held his prison here for nearly a thousand years.”

Bram had his own argument. “The current state of Angkor might actually work in our favor. You said it was a ghost town, meaning there should be very few people there to raise alarm.”

Matthias was insistent. “Did Ah mention seein’ demonspawn there?”

Bram pushed back. “You did, but the question is whether your magic can keep us hidden. And if not, can it defend us, if needed?”

Mica jumped in. “What about you, Bram?

Bram turned his attention to the priestess.

“You’re the Savior, not to mention the son of a Great Sage. Weren’t you given any gifts?”

Matthias shifted his attention to the Knight. “Good point. Didn’t the spirit o’ the Crevasse give ya anything besides shiny new armor?”

Bram nodded. “Yes, actually. Baraqiel said that I’d inherit the power of my father. And he said the Grigori artifacts had very strong blessings.”

Matthias laughed out loud. “Sorry t’ break it to ya, but ya don’t ‘ave a drop of manna in ya. Neither does your armor or sword give off a whit o’ magical radiance.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s powerless, Master Deleuze.” Christian seemed ready to propose a different theory. “Perhaps you never studied it, but the answer might lie in an old discipline called Epistemology.”

Bram remembered hearing about that from Rosa. He noticed that Matthias seemed to have a rebuke ready, but he held his tongue. Instead, he looked thoughtful.

“You’re referring to anima?”

Christian nodded. “Yes, the manna of the soul. We wouldn’t be able to detect it.”

“Pfft. There’s been centuries o’ documented magical study, an’ no one’s ever seen it!”

Christian shrugged. “No one has ever emerged as the son of a Great Sage, either.”

Mica looked giddy. “Well, Bram, has anyone ever taught you how to flex your magical muscles before?”

“He’s a layman, Lass. He’s never had th’ need.”

Bram remembered something. “Rosa used to talk about magic all the time.” He figured it was a weak example compared to formalized study, but it was better than nothing. “She always told me that she used the five senses to experience the flow of manna.”

“Aye, it’s an old sorcerer’s trick,” Matthias explained. “Mostly for novices, actually, but it does help. Now, wizards on th’ other hand, they rely more on puttin’ their body in a meditative state. They start by focusin’ on their feet, ankles, an’ shins, an’ they work their way up t’ their heads. When the body’s in alignment, they reach for their manna.”

Christian chimed in, too. “That’s why epistemologists refer to red manna as the body and blue manna as the mind. If Bram has manna of the soul, he’ll need to focus on something deeper.”

The Knight tried to comprehend what that meant. “You mean like feelings? Before, when you said to trust in my heart … would that work here?”

Christian shook his head. “No, Bram. That would likely apply to gold manna, which they call the heart. That’s also just theoretical, by the way. But for the soul, you’ll need to go much deeper.”

Bram thought of Yuri, but Christian wouldn’t have known about them or their gold manna. Instead, he tried to understand the difference between reaching into the heart and reaching into the soul. It sounded like the same thing to him. And besides, it was probably just a useless theoretical exercise in the first place. Nothing guaranteed that he could actually use magic. He wanted to curse the Great Sage at the Crevasse for leaving him so unprepared.

He sighed. “This is all very sudden, but I think if we have any chance of taking the enemy by surprise, we should attack their base. More than that, Christian is right that Minoa is in danger, if Abaddon escapes. And that might be imminent. There’s likely a very narrow window where we can face King Richard as a man, rather than the demon inside of him.”

He turned to his companions. “Matthias, I know you’re skeptical of success, but I trust you understand our risks are just as high if we’re too slow and let this opportunity pass us by. And Mica … the choice is yours, but if your heart tells you to join us, I can’t promise to keep you safe. We might all face a bloody end, so we must be sure that this is the battle we want to fight.”

Matthias rolled his eyes. “You’re the one wit’ military experience, Bram. Whatever ya decide, Ah’ll have your back.”

Bram looked to Mica. The priestess didn’t hesitate. “Seriously? You need to ask?”

The Knight smiled. “Christian, tell us about this method you have that gets us quietly into Angkor.”

The Gurudeva nodded. “It’s known as the Servant’s Highway. Long ago, when the Ancient Gaians built temples all over the world, they created a service system. Essentially, magical conduits that allowed the clergy to travel from one temple to another. This even includes temples that existed before Angkor’s capital was built over them.”

Bram had no idea a Gaian temple existed under Angkor’s capital. “You’re sure of this?”

Christian chuckled. “Of course. The only downside is that it will only work from our side, since the temple under Angkor’s capital is now demolished.”

Bram was amazed but also skeptical. “How do you know it still works, or that the magic wasn’t disrupted when Angkor built over it? How do you know it won’t transport us straight into solid rock?”

“It doesn’t work that way, Bram. The Ancient Gaians were quite savvy. Since old temples frequently needed maintenance, the Servant’s Highways were designed to bring the traveler to the nearest safe location. I happen to know the pathway is still safe, because I tested it myself, several years ago. I also used it many years before that to get Sophia to the Northern Continent. So I promise it will get you there safely. Of course, you’ll need to travel with someone capable of activating its enchantment. Fortunately, Mica has studied the rituals.”

Bram looked to his companions and he saw their eagerness, their fear, and their commitment.

“When can we leave? And how long does it take to get there?”

Christian answered. “Despite the long distance, the journey takes only a few minutes. Nevertheless, I suggest you wait until morning and get a good night’s sleep. You also owe an appearance to the people of this village. They need to know that their prophesy has been fulfilled.”

Bram almost forgot the crowd in front of the temple. “What if they don’t accept me? What if they’re angry?”

Christian was adamant. “I’ll be at your side. The people of this village trust me, and soon enough, they’ll change their opinions of you. I’m putting my trust in you, too, Bram. I know you won’t let us down, and neither will I let you down.”

Bram’s burden hadn’t gotten any lighter, but somehow its weight lessened as more people helped to carry it. The journey ahead would be more difficult than any he had taken before.

“You have my commitment to see this through, Christian. This is for all those I harmed in my past. This time, I intend to help the world … even if that means facing the demons of legend. I don’t know how … but I’ll follow where Fate takes me.”

Matthias and Mica nodded, ready to follow wherever he led them. They were now his responsibility.

Christian gave him one final piece of advice. “Fate or Faith, Bram, it’s all the same in the end. You should be used to that by now. It’s like going into battle with no certainty of the outcome. To muster the courage to make it through, you must believe.”

Bram nodded. So, Faith, after all.

… To be continued in Arc VII: The Wanton Kingdom