And let the story truly begin.
-Falcon, 2105
Memory chapter- This will be intense- Mature warning
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{Day 2 cont.}
[Flashback to yesterday]
Valgrim knelled deep in prayer to his god. Dirrg and Girr had just left, heading into the forests to search for young animals to recruit. Dirrg didn't know why Valgrim needed them, but Valgrim trusted he would get the job done. It was important now to get his god to help him with his plans. Clerics relied on their gods for the divine power needed for their spells, so they prayed to their god everyday for at least an hour. This not mean that the god would pay special. direct attention to each believer however. The popular gods usually just set aside a portion of their power for the believers and payed no attention to their prayers. The grand majority of gods had little to no interaction with the world of Riftera, usually only trickster gods and demons communicated often with mortals.
Valgrim's god was not a major god, he was only worshiped by the under-gnomes after all. But he had many godly responsibilities with his portfolio, so Valgrim needed to something that would catch his attention, even for a moment. If it was any other cleric, they could have prayed for a hundred years straight and not hear anything from their god. Valgrim, however, had something they didn't, and it had cost him. He looked at the ring on his hand, glistening even in the shadow of the grove clearing. The large ruby rested on a two swirling gold bands that had no beginning and no end.
Gazing at it, his memories rushed by in front of him; rushes of screams, battle cries, and death moans. Most of all, the face of the ones who wronged him, their faces twisted in scorn, mocking his power and his capabilities. The ring invoked his worst memories, trying to break him. The ring was the symbol of his religion, but it was also more important than that. He had encountered the avatar of his god once, a long time ago. Standing atop a pile of corpses, he had felt despair like no other, his kin butchered, and he had wept. He had managed to overcome his despair with faith, and he had come to him. His god, pleased with his faith, had gifted him the ring, telling him that only once- the ring could be used to contact him. He warned the ring could not be used for trivial things, for it would test his resolve with extreme mental trauma and pain. Only by overcoming the memories and mental constructs would he be able to speak with him.
As a gnome, Valgrim was unused to focusing on bad memories, it was not a natural thing. Gnomes had gone through many things over the years, from enslavement to racism. They had only survived by learning to not let the past hold them, making many mistakenly believe they were care free. Only in their nightmares did their memories haunt them.
Valgrim steeled himself, and let the memories wash over him. The furthest memories overcame him first. Memories of childhood, happy memories at first. The happy parts were replaced by memory of physical punishment, all the mistakes he had made. All the women who hit him for being too curious, the spankings form his mother for avoiding chores, the disappointment in his father's eyes when the clergy claimed him instead of following his father's footsteps in mining. The fasts, exhaustion, and magic failures came next, coming from his studies in the cleric house.
He remembered the physical exhaustion from pushing his limits, the whippings from the high priest accusing him of lechery with the female clerics. That actually invoked a small rush of happiness, the female clerics had been worth the whippings, especially the high priest's wife. The happiness was pushed away, replaced by his memories of an accident. He'd been 2 years into his studies, an accident in the tunnels. Running, running from the beasts that ate everything in their path. He was still young, uneducated, and had no magic to defend himself. His upper class mentors demanding him to leave them, him running away with a bundle in his arm. The beasts screaming in anger, their teeth ripping through armor, through skin, through bone. Their dying cries as they were ripped apart alive, their blood bathing the tunnels in red. The bundle moving, trying to escape the sounds. It was a girl, a young gnome. The young girl screaming in fear as he tried to escape. He tried reassuring her, tried to keep her quiet, she wouldn't stop screaming. He'd tripped, the bundle went flying. It only took a moment, a moment of silence from the shock of the fall, a moment of her screams, and then silence. She was gone. Taken like the others. Only he was spared, his fatigue depriving him from making a sound.
The guilt, always eating away at him. Should have been faster, should have been me, should have saved that girl. No comfort from the priests, it was a fact of life. No comfort for him either. Spending months praying for forgiveness, no answer, no answer, why why why why WHY! Redemption was found. A young girl, lost in the tunnels. Not a gnome, a dark elf, but a little girl. Had to be, yes had to be his redemption. She was exhausted, tired, hungry. He didn't know where she came from, he had to help. Warnings from the priests, nothing good could come from helping a dark elf, no matter the age. Praise for his intentions, but they told him to let her die. No, he couldn't do that, she had to live, had to live, had to live.
Days turned to months, months to years. The others removed themselves from him, bad luck they called him, the gods did not favor him. He didn't care, the girl was fine. Living in the tunnels, she was alive. She was happy, he was happy. The priests had enough. Dark elves came, they took her form me. They ripped her away, screaming. They broke my bones trying to help her, they left me. But she was gone, gone away again. His little La, gone.
Years passing by, he became a cleric. They gave him his things, then sent him away. They didn't want him with them anymore. His family didn't need him anymore, his younger brother now mining the tunnels instead of father. He left, wandering the tunnels and caves and caverns, all alone in the dark. He sold his services to anyone who could pay, doing things distasteful. He was free, and alone.
4 years in, he had sneaked into a priestess's house. He'd stolen a glance, some clothes, and some gold. She didn't need it, she was in the top of dark elf nobility. He saw a slave mother fleeing with her son. The guards were coming, she wasn't going to make it. Memories of his failure came to him, he tricked the guards, letting the two escape. Imprisonment, pain, torture filled his life far a day. Then she came, it was her, he had found her again. She was grown and beautiful, but broken. They'd changed her, tried to make their own spirit hers, raised her with pain and arrogance. Her smiles no longer held warmth. He denied her, rejecting her advances, her perverse,broken affection. Her anger, her wrath- if he couldn't be hers, no one else could. She took from him that which was most important. Slicing and dicing, poring magic into the hole. Pain beyond that which any man should know. Her sweet whispering in his ear to become hers. He denied her again. He tried to run, 9 times he tried to run. Then he was free again. But his little La was gone, they changed her. They made her Shin.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Valgrim woke violently from the onslaught of memories, pale and breathing hard, sweat covering his entire body. He didn't feel at all comfortable with the experience. He felt drained, tired, old. He grinned at that last one. Gnomes lived for a while, but under gnome clerics took after their god, becoming as unmoving as the earth. They could live hundreds of years, barring injury and disease. His life had many regrets, but his the memories that had flooded his mind were very selective- the worst of the worst. He had many happy memories, but they were buried at the moment, the bad one's still fresh in his mind. He laid down, letting the wind blow his fears away. The ring had been a challenge, but he wasn't broken. In his 150 year of life, he had learned to come to terms with his mistakes, his failures, and his achievements. But the ring had been fishing for the one thing that still eluded his grasp, the thing that he still regretted.
"Shinla." he whispered, the name moving through the still forest.
At the mention of her name, the ring began a soft glow, enveloping the Valgrim and the clearing in a soft, warm golden light. It formed a barrier, separating the space he was in from his plane. Valgrim slowly got up, and heard a voice directly behind him.
"Time flies ey Valgrim?"
Valgrim whirled around, but there was no one there.
"You should know better than to look upon divinity." The voice chastised gently, coming from behind him again, "Can't have your eyes burning out of your head before you actually learn to use them."
Giving up, Valgrim closed his eyes and sat in a meditative form on the ground.
"There we go, well done. So Valgrim, after 50 years you use my gift. What could be so important now that I would consider giving you special consideration?" the voice asked curiously, "If you have used my gift for something trivial, I will kick you out of my clergy."
"My god, I swore to use your gift only when the need was utmost, and also most interesting. I feel you will agree."
Valgrim explained his plan and vision to the voice. The voice listened, asking the occasional question, but quite intrigued by the idea. When Valgrim was done, the voice was quiet for awhile, contemplating the curious request his cleric had asked of him. "Valgrim, even if I grant this power to you, there will be consequences." he warned, "Channeling a god's power will permanently mark you, binding your fate to mine. When you die, your soul will not belong to you. It will belong to me and you will never rest in my service. That is why gods only grant such power to their favored, its a blessing and a curse for both god and recipient. Who know, you may become an annoyance to me after a millennium or two..."
Valgrim inclined his head, "If this plan succeeds, then your life will be even more interesting. I know that you gods are infinite, but surely it gets boring and repetitive after awhile? This will give you an opportunity to "work outside the box" as they say. Plus, an increase in believers will increase your influence in the pantheon."
The voice laughed, pleased with Valgrim's argument.
"Okay then Valgrim, I will grant your request. Know that when you use this power, your soul is mine forever after until I see fit to release it. Remember, it is not a permanent thing, you will have to recast it every 12 hours."
Valgrim nodded.
"Okay then, it's time for you to wake up."
Valgrim's eyes shot open, he was still kneeling in the grove. He was also very tired and weak. But he knew he had succeeded. He could feel the power flowing through him. He got up, and began his slow walk back to camp. He had to rest up for lunch after all.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A certain figure watched Valgrim slowly walk away from the clearing. It smiled to itself, its form currently of an old man, with keys hanging off his belt.
"Ku ku ku. You've really done it now Valgrim. The world will never be the same after this. And I can't wait to sit back with some stew and watch you change it."
The old man slowly faded out of sight, leaving behind only a sense of warmth, and a soft golden glow in the air.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Far in the tunnels
A silhouette slowly moved to the entrance to a collapsed tunnel. Ever since the quakes, entire sections of tunnel had collapsed, rendering a huge area impossible to get through. The figure knelt down and inspected a fire place. The pit had a disgusting substance that should have been stew, but was cooked so badly there was no earthly reason to even look at it. It had been hastily covered with stone, but the figure recognized it.
"Looks like Brutus's cooking" a short whisper came from the hood.
The figure smiled. It knew the trail, it would find them. Looking at the rubble, the figure stretched out a long, dark, delicate hand and blasted the blockage. When the smoke cleared, more rubble had fallen to take it's place. The figure frowned, but it quickly disappeared. If it couldn't reach him through the tunnels, then it would have to travel to the surface and move overland. That was where he was heading in the first place.
"You can't escape me." the figure whispered smiling, "Not when I finally found you. My true love."
The figure walked back the way it had came, it's hood falling back for just a moment, revealing dark skin and pointed ears.