10 - The Pale Hand

1083rd Year, 6th Month, Autumn

It was he who brought life to the desert.

It was he who sired the Prian races.

And it was he who reached for Flitzegarde’s heart.

For there was none more lustful or brilliant than the king of Llarsse, celestial lord of creation, and heir to the throne of life. With his sinful blessing, he raised from the sands a lavish kingdom with no shackles to the powers that be, no fetters but to bind the willing, no fools yet blind to the fires of passion. For his domain saw no love forbidden.

Scriptures of the Savage Gods, Verse 6-1

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Vella was annoyed. I could see it in the way she tapped her fingers against her throne. I could see it from the light that pulsed through her mechanical parts. And most blatantly of all, I could see it on her face. She did nothing to hide the scowl on her lips; her teeth were bared and her eyes were narrowed. If looks could kill, I would have died at least three times over.

Still, I dashed across the hall, crossing nearly a hundred metres before my next opponent suddenly appeared in the space in front of me. He didn’t step out from a pillar or rush to his position like any of the others. One moment, there was nothing, and in the next, he was there.

The warrior in question, a werewolf shouldering a two-handed blade, was just as confused as I was. He looked between the goddess and I and scratched the back of his head with a massive claw. It was a display that left him wide open, but even with my fervour at its peak, I refrained from striking him down. I skidded to a stop right in front of him and awaited the goddess’ words.

“He is Myrwin, and he is one of the most powerful fighters to have ever graced this realm with his presence.” Her sour mood was gone by the time she voiced his introduction. It held instead the joy of a cheeky brat whose prank was set in motion. “His meteoric rise was crowned by the death of a celestial—he slew Imgrand, the demigod who once lorded over the concept of sadism, with nothing but his own bare hands. He is the reaper of souls, the man blessed by the god of death, and one of the many I was forced to put down myself, once he elected to hunt the pantheon’s members.” She twisted her lips into a grin. “You cannot defeat him, Virillius. Your trial ends here.”

I knew it would only worsen the goddess’ mood, but I hung my head and breathed a sigh.

She had thrown all semblance of fairness out the window. From the confusion on the man’s face and the utter lack of hostility, I could only assume that, unlike all of the others, he had no reason to be my opponent. But we were both the goddess’ soldiers. Our only choice was to obey.

We each stepped back to open some distance between us. A hundred paces was standard for Cadrian duels, and it was at that distance that the battle began.

Myrwin lifted his greatsword off of his shoulder and broke into a sprint. He was surprisingly fast for someone of his stature. His legs bent every time he hit the ground before suddenly and explosively extending like a pair of springs. His gait was more like a prancing deer’s than it was a two-legged wolf’s, but it was backed with the strength of a legion. The temple’s floor crumbled every time he touched it; his individual leaps were marked with his clawed feet.

Standing still and heaving another sigh, I drew my weapon as soon as the distance was closed; my lance met his sword as we returned to the place where we parted.

The sheer force of the collision suggested that our partners should have sung their introductions.

But there was no such sound.

My shieldlance split his greatsword as easily as it parted his chest.

There was a moment of silence, interrupted only as his upper body hit the ground. But my reward was still missing. My mind refused to fade, even after I crushed his head for good measure.

When I looked up at the goddess, I found her visibly shaking. It was a shameful display, but I couldn’t blame her. The man had fallen in a heartbeat in spite of her lofty claim; I would’ve been just as embarrassed to face me.

The shame was so strong that she averted her gaze when I looked at her. She focused all of her attention on a random pillar, occasionally returning her eyes to their prior positions, only to face away again after meeting my gaze. The exchange left me with yet another sigh. It didn’t look like I would be seeing any sort of vision, let alone one that would give me the answers I needed, so I gave myself a bit of a kick and continued on my way.

Three steps later, the goddess’ vanity returned. It appeared in the shape of a hollow smirk, a twisted smile that sent a shiver down the length of my spine. The image remained in my sights for maybe a second before the world was covered in white. When my vision returned, I found myself high up in the sky with a strange city upon the horizon.

For the me of the present, it didn’t immediately click, but my future self recognized it as Valencia, the capital city of Cadria and the metropolis in which I had taken the goddess’ trial. I had always known that the city would only continue to change, as it had in the preceding years, but even with the ban on artificy recently repealed, I hadn’t thought that the transformation would be so drastic.

There was a veritable legion of floating castles suspended above the settlement. The airspace was so polluted with buildings that I found it almost impossible to see the ground below. The few glimpses I got were fraught with frightening technologies. Though it was midnight, the city was as bright as it would have been at noon, a veritable beacon in the night like a star in the sky. People were using incredible gadgets I’d never seen before to repair the roads, and some of the fortresses were even maintaining themselves with giant, metal arms.

But though I would have loved nothing more than to observe the far future, I found myself in too much of a hurry to really see the beautiful scene for what it was. The city was practically a blur.

I didn’t understand. But for some odd reason, I was panicked, even more so than the moment of my son’s birth. I flapped my wings, pushing myself through the sky at lightning speed. The bird in my path exploded into a burst of gore when I touched it, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even blink. All of my attention was saved for whatever waited ahead.

My stomach was doing twists and turns. I felt like I was going to vomit, albeit for no reason related to my speed. Each lurch came with a pulse of fear and regret. The raw impulses were so strong, so overwhelming, that I almost couldn’t think.

I found it impossible to imagine the circumstances that had driven me to such a state. I had never been the type to buckle under pressure or otherwise panic on account of bad news. I was almost starting to doubt the visions’ accuracy. Perhaps, I thought, Vella’s prediction had been mistaken in some way or other, or perhaps there was simply a limited extent to which she could foresee my thoughts. Whatever the case, I assumed that she was wrong.

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I was the general of Cadria’s army, the single man responsible for every executive decision not vetoed or overruled by the king. The constant mental gymnastics that came with such a role should have provided my mind with all the exercise it needed. I couldn’t have possibly wound up as the bumbling buffoon her visions described. And yet, there I was, failing to form a coherent thought as I closed in on the capital city.

There was a massive barrier in the way, a grand shield in the shape of a dome. I knew the defence was nigh impenetrable. It was fueled by the ley lines that ran beneath Valencia, empowered by the very world itself.

And yet, I showed no signs of slowing.

I swiped a hand from left to right and cut a massive hole. The veil only remained open for a split second, but pumping my wings even harder, I pushed myself through the crack and circumvented the shield in its entirety.

Ignoring all procedure saved me maybe two seconds. The men tasked with the southern gate were my personal subordinates. They wouldn’t have tried to stop me had I charged right through. But even those two seconds were precious. I couldn’t, wouldn’t relinquish them. Even if it meant ignoring my own rules and casting aside all the respect I’d earned.

Again, I flapped my wings. One final push to reach the end of the sky.

The whole world was a blur.

It took just under a second and a half to close the seven kilometres between the city’s southernmost border and the castle that lay at its center. The accompanying distortions, the violent sonic booms, were sure to shake and destroy some of the tallest buildings. But I couldn’t be bothered to care. Not even as I approached the place that housed the nation’s god-king.

There was another barrier in my way, a triangular prism that extended from the three grand strongholds that hovered closest to the king’s home. It was even more powerful than the last shield I encountered. But again, ignoring all protocol, I raised my hand and carved an entrance.

I made straight for the prism’s northernmost point, slowing only as I approached its grounds. My heart pumped with even greater violence as my speed was reduced. Sweat dripped from my brow. So bad was the shaking of my feet that I felt like a newborn calf.

It was only as I started reducing my speed that I realized the shockwave would affect the manor. I gulped deep breaths as I lamented my decision. There was a chance that I would be at fault for bringing about the worst. But thankfully, the reverberations I crafted were quelled. The wind behind me turned gentle, not even affecting the city as I had thought it would. The manor itself was entirely unaffected, perhaps even oblivious to the fact that I had practically torn the world asunder.

The rabbit responsible for resolving the disturbance soon descended from the sky to greet me. She didn’t have wings like I did, but the spell Allegra had cast on her feet allowed her to walk across the heavens as naturally as she would the ground.

“You’re late, Virillius,” she said, quietly, solemnly.

I was too out of breath to reply, but I slowly nodded and followed her lead. Together, we floated up the side of the battlecruiser and then the manor on top of it.

The cottontail landed on a balcony and walked into a bright, sunlit room. But I couldn’t bring myself to follow. I remained on the terrace. Frozen.

I couldn’t move. My body refused to take another step forward, no matter how desperately I issued the command. I could do nothing but stand and stare as both my stomachs sank.

It was exactly as the emergency relay had described. I had hoped it to be anything but the truth, perhaps some trick by the enemy to draw me away from the battlefield.

But the longer I looked, the less I saw, and the more I understood.

There was no deception at play.

Her skin was ghastly white. Her frame had been reduced to skin and bones. Her cheeks were hollowed and her eyes sunken in. The once brilliant purples that had embodied her name were reduced to mere streaks in her hair. The rest was the same colour as mine.

I fell to my knees.

I didn’t know what to do.

I could only sit around and stare as Sirius clutched her pale hand and Camellia changed the moist towel resting on her forehead.

It didn’t make sense.

I didn’t understand how it was possible.

I’d sworn that I wouldn’t let him walk down my path. I’d sworn to give him the best life I could. I’d sworn that I would always see through my duty as the head of the house, that I would protect him, her, both of them. But I had failed. He had just turned ten at the end of spring. But he was already losing his mother. Even earlier than I lost mine. I didn’t know where I went wrong, or how I was supposed to fix it.

I’d sent Ragnar a thousand calls for aid.

I knew that he could fix her.

But he had never responded.

He was my last resort. There wasn’t anyone else in the world capable of seeing her healed.

I was at my wit’s end.

I didn’t know what to do.

I’d spent a thousand years as the army’s general. I’d grown so powerful that I was well over halfway to losing my mortality. Had I spent just half the time I’d wasted training, I would have become a demigod. And perhaps, I would have been able to save her. But as it stood, I was powerless. There was nothing I could do but pray that the gods would have mercy.

Alas, there was none of it to be found.

In the months that I spent away, the months that I spent in battle, the months I should have spent by her side, her illness had only progressed.

I didn’t know what to do.

It almost felt like I was choking, like some mysterious, invisible power had its grip on my throat, ready to squeeze the life from my body. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even think.

And yet, despite my complete and utter ineptitude, she somehow still noticed my presence.

She smiled when she saw me. Softly. With more strength than I could’ve ever known.

And then, after mouthing a few silent words, she collapsed into her bed and fell still.

I wasn’t sure what happened after. The whole world almost seemed to blur.

She was gone.

And I did nothing but watch.

I did nothing but watch and fail her.

She had asked me to take care of our son. But I didn’t even have the strength to stand. I didn’t understand. How was it possible for me to take care of him if I couldn’t even take care of myself?

It was hopeless.

I was hopeless.

I couldn’t pull through.

I wasn’t strong enough.

Only as I was about to scream, about to release the feelings bottled up within my heart, did my mind go blank and return to the present.

I was taken out of the moment.

But the emotions refused to leave me.

Like my future self, I fell to my knees and gasped for air.

When I looked up at Vella again, I found her with a smile. A domineering, sadistic, self-righteous smile. She knew what she had shown me. The delay had only been present because she went out of her way to pick out the scene.

It wasn’t like I didn’t understand. She wanted me to focus on the task at hand, or at the very least, think about something other than Violet. But knowing her line of reason did little to fight back against my dissatisfaction.

She knew that Violet would die, but instead of showing me a solution, she only scolded me for my lack of fealty—not that there was any of it still remaining. Any faith I still had dried up as soon as I witnessed the smirk plastered atop her lips. My mind was flooded by nothing but the same dry urge that came with recalling my brother. Even as I walked through her temple, with one of her apostles becoming my breastplate, I found no loyalty to the goddess of war.

I only wanted to kill her.