My father and I stand facing a crack in the obsidian walls surrounding Unadeam. This blemish upon the cliffs reaches the very top of the obsidian precipices of Unadeam. My father is visibly uncomfortable with bringing me here, and I can sometimes hear him swear under his breath. He kicks the wall once, before he ignites his hand in flame and places his hand into the crevasse.
Flames erupt from the crack and travel up the wall. The flames then diverge into several different directions as they travel up the wall to form a symbol. An arrow with bird wings emerging from its shaft surrounded by a shield. I can only imagine what the village must be thinking with this suddenly appearing on the cliffs that were utterly dormant until now.
Seconds pass as we stare at the blazing crest and then I see something in the sky. It appears to be a bird, but the wings are far too large for any bird that I have ever seen. It can’t be a glirdon either as they appear to be three crescent moons connected by a humanoid shape soaring through the sky when they fly. Much like how a hawk dives from the sky, I see the mysterious creature plunge from a high altitude right toward us. A gust of air flings dust into my eyes and I see him.
“Argentum enough with the spectacle,” says my father picking his hat off the ground.
“Turas, how long has it been little brother?” says Argentum spreading his magnificent pure snow-colored wings to their maximum wingspan. The man that stood before my father appeared to be an angel from my father’s stories. His eyes radiate light and were amber in color. His hair was golden in color, not blonde, but shining gold.
He wore clothes that I had never seen before. He wore a pure white shirt with golden buttons, and a grey overcoat that bore larger golden buttons that had the same crest as the still smoldering cliff face. His pants were the same color as the overcoat and were held together by a metal contraption and a button. His shoes were made of leather and were laced together, and to the side of the area where the laces held the shoe together the leather was etched with a feathery wing design.
“Never seen a totalion before nephew?” says Argentum turning his attention from my father to me, “looks like you appreciate my suit and apparel as well. Would you like to see my time piece?” Argentum lifts his sleeve to reveal a golden apparatus on his wrist with two arrows pointing in two different directions.
“Argentum, this isn’t a family visit! We are here on business,” says my father positioning himself between me and the totalion.
“You’re such a bore now that you have turned your back on the world and your celandilic responsibilities,” says Argentum frowning whilst backing away from both of us and collapsing his wings down so that they appear to be a feathery rucksack on his back. I’m surprised that such great wings could fold down that small.
“You used to be a mighty warrior, protecting the people of Tackenae,” muses Argentum leaning back to have a golden chair materialize to catch him, “as a youth I remember how you used to hunt down your own people to protect humans, only to realize that you were killing innocents. The Kin Slaying Berserker is what the celandil called you for a time. That inspired nickname was short lived. Your atoning magnum opus was magnificent, as you gathered your people as some sort of penitent messiah. What happened to that Turas, the man of action that united humanity?”
“He died, when my people were slaughtered,” says my father his hands now clasped in fists, “humanity united over the blood of my people. Have you forgotten about the genocide they committed as celandil men, women and children tried to escape to the new world?”
“How could I forget, the day our father sought finally reached by the people he benevolently freed,” says Argentum, a cup appearing in his hand, a steaming liquid spiraling into it.
“How dare you speak of that maniac as if he did the world a favor. He destroyed the world, damned his people to death as he contorted history and belief to his whims. Our father played god and millions died both human and celandil for his supposed virtuous plan,” my father says his lip quivering. My father’s hand opens, and I hear a whistling come from the woods. My father’s sword flying through the air accepts his grasp.
I’ve only seen that sword once in my life, and it was when I was nearly killed by a boar during my wanders in the western forest which my mother had forbidden me from entering. The reason for this ban being, well she never really had a reason until that day.
The blade is split into two sections as a gap runs the center of the blade into a central circle in the hilt. Two hornlike pieces jut off the bifurcated blade to form a cross guard. The hilt was wrapped in black leather, and the decorations of the blade were made of bronze.
“Don’t get so worked up brother! Reminiscing should be a positive endeavor to make our familial bond stronger,” says Argentum sipping the liquid in the cup, “ugh, so bitter, it could use some sugar. Come my dearest family join me.”
The ground beneath Argentum began to quake as tree roots burst from the ground and grew into a table. Two more wooden chairs form from the roots and were freed from the ground with a snap. My father with a begrudging breath stabbed his sword into the ground and took a seat at the table, and I joined shortly after him. Two cups made of a white, smooth, shiny material decorated in golden inlays burst into existence in front of us, while liquid spirals in the air to fill them.
“One lump or two?” asks Argentum as a smoke spills from his fingertips and forms small sparkling cubes on another platter that just came into existence out of nowhere, “what am I saying of course two.”
Four cubes playfully jump across the table and enter both my cup and my father’s. Argentum once again sips from his cup, spits, and as if recalling what he said previously then summons two cubes to jump into his cup as well.
“Now this feels like a family get together doesn’t it,” smiles Argentum now gesturing to a platter of cakes to his left, a platter of cookies to his right, and a platter of sandwiches in front of him, “just two brothers and a nephew enjoying tea and some snacks.”
With a clap of Argentum’s hands, molten gold gushes from the cracks of the wood until it forms the base and arms of a candelabra. I hear a squeal and I see white fat and hair float through the air forming candles that light and enter the cups of the candelabra. I feel like clapping but sit still as my father clutches his hands so tightly it looks like he is restraining blood flow to them.
“Stop this charade! We have been around for near a millennium, drop the act for Skath, and let’s speak frankly,” says my father slamming his fist on the table, the cup of tea in front of him tipping over only to have its trajectory reversed and the liquid dive back into the cup.
“Kill my fun, why don’t you. I wanted to be the fun uncle. Though, considering that Gehenna is my competition, I’d say I’m already my nephew’s favorite,” says Argentum resting his head on his hands.
“Honestly, I’m extremely confused right now,” I say trying to grasp that I don’t just have one uncle but two, and one is some demi-god and the other is Gehenna. Does that mean Uzuri is my cousin?
My father holds up his hand to quiet me, “That is a relation I refuse to acknowledge. Gehenna’s marriage to my wife’s sister is one that even her sister finds to be by lawful misfortune than any actual legitimate familial bond.”
“Which means I win the best uncle award by default! That almost feels less special somehow, but I’ll take it,” says my uncle interrupting my father while pumping his fist in the air.
“Oh, that’s a relief!” I say having that clarified. Uzuri technically my cousin but not by blood. I’m not in love with my blood cousin, that is fantastic. However, that means that Gareth is my blood cousin. A week ago, I would have been devastated, now I don’t know how to feel.
“See even the boy thinks I’m a good uncle. Sure, that was a comment more for that beast not being his uncle, but I’ll take it,” says my uncle gesturing toward me, “I have no idea why you haven’t introduced us or even made an effort to let our family bond like this. I’ve wanted to, but no. Someone has had to sulk because he blames daddy for his previous family and friends being killed off. Let me tell you something, it wasn’t daddy, but humans that did that, but you still paraded around as some god for hundreds of years amongst them, but all the flack and emotional baggage gets flung at me just because dad is gone and the only one besides you to have his blood is me.”
The table in front of us splits in two so quickly that a sound wasn’t even able to be produced. My father’s sword in his hand once again now sits in between two perfect halves of the table that is now falling apart. I hear his breath come in labored gasps between his teeth. I’ve never seen him this angry before.
“It was dad’s contortion of history and his teachings that lead humanity to the witch hunts that brought upon the genocide of the celandil! I watched so many precious friends, people that I considered family, a woman that would have been my wife get wiped off the face of Nuren,” says my father his sword pointing toward Argentum, “they were good people free of the sins of their fathers that were rightfully persecuted for their crimes. My people weren’t their fathers but were slaughtered like vermin. Hold your tongue or lose it when you speak of them. My only hope is the sins of their destruction will drag father to hell.”
Argentum gets up out of his seat and as if by some unknown force my vision is knocked into the mist and I hear screaming. A massive storm of mist collects above us and a tornado of it twists and spirals into Argentum. Chunks of the cliffs fly off and form a legion of blades behind him as he unfurls his wings and glowers at father. Some of the mist holding the chunks of the cliffs ignite into an incredibly bright substance that can only be compared to lightning or the sun itself, and as the mist burns the screeching intensifies.
The wailing of the mist becomes more and more intense, and it feels like my very soul is ripping itself apart and I can feel myself mouthing as if by instinct, “make the screaming stop, please, make it stop.”
“Interesting. Alright let’s agree to disagree,” says Argentum turning his attention to me. He claps his hands together the table comes back together while the chunks of the cliffs return to place. The crack in the table reseals itself and the various broken platters and food stuffs reform. The dirt on the food flies off the food and shoots off into the forest. The spilt tea appears to ring itself of impurities and reassumes its position in the now unbroken cups. Only when all the damage had been repaired did the cries tearing into me stop and my eyes reopened to reality.
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“Skath, are you alright?” my father says getting up from his seat to check on me, “what did you do to him!”
“Nothing, but I must admit that was most intriguing behavior. I have only seen this sort of reaction twice in my life,” says my uncle walking around the table, only to have my father draw his sword toward him. Argentum raises his hands and returns to his seat.
“So, tell me, why is it that you have called me here,” says Argentum still staring at me intently, “do you wish for me to take the boy and free him from the barbarism of the people of this pit? I can assure you he and his posterity will live as kings amongst my people.”
“You have never desired to take Skath with you before,” says my father glaring at him, “wasn’t it you who said that he was too human to save? That his grandfather’s blood was too diluted by filth to be worthy of rescue? Drop the favorite uncle act, you came here thinking I summoned you so I could take part in your schemes.”
“You dare quote me the things I told you in confidence?” scoffs Argentum as he gestures his hand as if to brush aside the accusation, “as all things do, I have changed. I’ve observed the boy and find that perhaps he may be more of our father than either of us.”
“He is nothing like our father!” snaps my father lifting me from my chair and grabbing my wrist, “come on Skath, I was wrong about all of this.”
“You heard the screams of my people, didn’t you? You hear the whispers of truth that surround you, and wonder why that twit can’t hear them? You know the mechanics of soulcraft, yet don’t know the names of said forces,” says Argentum directly looking at me, and I break free from my father’s grasp.
“You know about the whispers?” I ask and a feeling of relief and fear fills me, “what are they? What is the mist and spheres? I’ve wanted to know for so long.”
My father stops trying to get me to leave. We both stand astonished that someone knows about my affliction. That I’m not just hearing things and seeing things, but there is an actual explanation. We both tentatively reassume our places at the table.
“Your grandfather was a perfect mix of celandil and human, and as such the divinely appointed destinies of both races intertwined in him. It was appointed by the creators that the celandil were to bear essentially spiritual fangs to protect and guide humanity on their creation right. Humanity on the other hand was ordained to learn the truth of all things,” explains Argentum offering us a platter of little sandwiches only to pick one for himself.
“The legacy of the celandil was soulcraft or what some imbeciles call magic,” continues Argentum and I see my father glare again at his brother, “Soulcraft permits a celandil to use the essence of their soul to change the essence of reality to put it simply. Souls and essence work on a realm greater to that of the natural laws and can thus overcome them, much like how I was able to create this food from nothing.”
“How does this have anything to do with Skath?” asks my father pointing toward me, clearly impatient with the ramblings of his brother.
“Patience dear brother, and please bear with me as I explain in terms that Skath can understand,” says my uncle frowning at my father, “In Skath’s case he has inherited both divine legacies, and in doing so he has a rare gift. He can see and hear the essence of all things, thus learning truth from the very essence of reality.”
“That would explain why the whispers haven’t ever led me astray. I thought it miraculous I haven’t poisoned myself up until now listening to the whispers of the forest, but the voices never told me lies,” I mutter learning that perhaps the strange curse might have been an intriguing gift, “though, that is only one part of what I experience. What can you explain about the mist and spheres?”
“Father told me about what he saw and heard in confidence. However, he’s dead, so let me tell you what he told me. Father explained that all things contain essence, which he told me appeared like a foggy substance in all things. Only souls can actively produce essence, as the essence of a living thing is always evolving and growing. He told me souls appeared much like a glimmering sphere in all living things,” says Argentum shrugging, “I personally can’t hear or see essence, but I can still manipulate it despite not being able to experience it. To me and your father I assume it is more of a deep feeling rather than an actual manifestable experience for our senses.”
I look at my father and he nods his confirmation of what my uncle just said, and my uncle decides to continue, “Despite having this ability, it appears that you are not an exact mixture of celandil and human. It seems like you may have the soul of a celandil but the essence of a human, which leads you to struggle greatly to utilize your essence to change the essence of reality. This can be blamed on your father as he is also a mix blood.”
“What do you mean? My mother and father were celandil,” my father says only for him to bite his tongue and continue, “but father was half human.”
“Exactly, at worst you would have been exactly half celandil and half human, but as you appear to not exhibit the gift of hearing the essence of all things I can only assume you received the smallest share of the human heritage, unlike myself who received none of it,” says my uncle turning his attention from my father to me, “You appear to have inherited your mother’s humanity and your father’s, which explains your gift but lack of talent at soulcraft.”
“So, I’m too human to be a celandil,” I say scratching my head trying to keep every detail straight, “but at the same time too much of a celandil to be entirely human.”
“I guess that is one way of saying it,” says my uncle shrugging taking a bite of his sandwich, “cucumber, it would probably be a delicacy in these parts as it hasn’t been introduced here. You two should really dig in.”
“If my desire was to be a celandil more than a human, is that possible?” I ask taking a sandwich from the platter wondering what a cucumber is.
“Finally, we come to the reason why you two are here!” exclaims my uncle, to which my father nods, “The answer is yes, but it comes with many caveats.”
“Those being,” says my father as he moves his chair closer to mine.
“Well, you come with me and we train for a few hundred years,” says my uncle seeming absolutely giddy with excitement, “I figure that we just have to change the very essence of your being so your soul starts producing celandil essence and not human essence.”
“Wait, I’ll live that long?” I say looking at my father.
“The truth is Skath I’m around a thousand years old, honestly I stopped counting,” says my father with an exasperated sigh. My father turns his gaze from me as he continues, “your mother married an extremely old man. I know I look to be in my late-twenties, but my exterior betrays the soul of one who has lived hundreds of years.”
“I celebrated my millennia and a hundred and eleventh birthday only two months ago myself,” says Argentum smiling a broad grin, “but I don’t look a year over twenty-five.”
“What if I can’t leave and only have a year to become even a smidgeon more of a celandil?” I ask, and my uncle spits up his tea.
“Impossible, to become a true celandil it would take us literally rewriting your very being, and we already have what seventeen years to rewrite as is,” says my uncle in a huff staring at his dirtied suit only to banish the stains and liquid back into his cup.
“Perhaps he doesn’t need to be a true celandil,” states my father having now relaxed enough to eat a small cake, “he’s not asking for a full reversal of his humanity. All he wants is the power to save a friend of his, which is power that isn’t on the scale of plasma boulders.”
“So, it’s a scope problem,” says my uncle stroking his chin while he floats his cup to his mouth for another sip, “He cannot fully externalize his essence, but he can still manipulate it.”
“Wait how do you know about that?” I ask wondering how much he knows about me.
“I’ve been watching your progress for a while now, and that pathetic display at the waterfall today gives me a certain idea as to where you are now,” says my uncle still rubbing his chin his face constricted in concentration.
“You saw me naked!” I exclaim feeling somewhat violated.
“Modesty is for religious misogynists that want to control your body, get over yourself,” says Argentum not even giving any concern to my feelings.
“If the problem is external use of soulcraft, perhaps more internal, infusion type variants could be a possibility,” says Argentum after several moments of deliberation, “but if he doesn’t come with me, I refuse to teach him.”
“Then he’ll die,” says my father getting up from his chair, slamming his fists into the table.
“Not my problem, I’m more than willing to help him,” says Argentum shrugging his shoulders getting up from the table, “he either comes with me and becomes the celandil he longs to be, or stays here and dies a zealous death, but one that has tragic lovers sort of undertones… Wait, I need to note that down and have a writer back at the palace scribe a play for me.”
“Is there anything I can do to convince you to help him? I’ll do anything,” my father says as he pounds both fists again on the table and I can see tears in his eyes. My uncle smiles and gives a little laugh.
“There is nothing you can do,” says Argentum now walking toward me, “however, there is something the boy could give me, outside of coming with me to my kingdom.”
“Don’t you dare,” says my father trying to thrust himself between us.
“Dad, if this is the only way for me to save Uzuri and live,” I say getting up and gently nudging him to my side, “if this is the only way for me to save the woman I love, see the world, and live, I’ll be willing to at least listen to what he has to say.”
My father nods and steps behind me, and my uncle continues his approach until he is standing right in front of me. We look into each other’s eyes, the light beaming from his eyes causing mine to water. He places a hand on my shoulder and the ivory gleam of his smile pierces me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
“You will owe me a life debt,” my uncle says, he starts to lean into my personal space which gives a gravitas to each word he says next, “in return I will provide you training that will help you save your precious Uzuri. A life for a life. Know that our interests may be somewhat congruous as yes, I will have you travel the world. However, you will need to act as a celandil, which means that you will see the horrors of the world, as well as the splendors. You will suffer, I can’t deny that, but you will be joyous as well.”
“Your deal doesn’t sound half bad,” I say extending my hand to seal the contract.
“Listen for this is but the beginning of your service to my life debt. I need to know that at the conclusion of the debt that I truly will have your life to use and hold?” says my uncle his smile now hidden behind his lips. His voice once filled with joyous levity, now accentuated almost every other word, punctuating the seriousness of the situation with a verbal pressure I’ve only experienced a few times in my life, “Your life will be subject to my will, what I decide will be your will. If I give you an order you will do it! Your life will be mine, and I will choose where it ends. There is a chance that you will repay me and live free of me, but that isn’t a guarantee. When I call your debt to be ransomed will you be prepared to give your life to me?”
“That is too much to place on him,” says my father trying to pull me away from my uncle, “just agree to go with him and live, give up on Uzuri. I’ll even help you escape Unadeam, there is no reason for you to accept this.”
“Why won’t you help me save Uzuri?” I ask my father turning myself to him, “if you will help me, I will not accept this burden.”
“I can’t!” says my father clenching his teeth. His whole face appears to be enduring some sort of pain, “I promised your mother I wouldn’t harm the village, and in helping you save her, I would be breaking my promise to her. Even bringing you here feels like I’m betraying her.”
“Then I think I know what must be done,” I say, and I grasp my uncle’s hand, “I will take upon myself your contract. I owe you a life debt and promise to fulfill it to the best of my ability until you release me.”
My uncle smiles a devilish grin, it almost feels like I have walked into a trap of some sort, “I really thought that would scare you into coming with me. No matter, I have exactly what I want.”
He waves his hand and from the sky an object drops. When it is about ground level it begins to flap violently much like a moth and Argentum opens my hand where it lands. Two gloves, both bearing symbols that rise out of the glove like scar tissue on flesh, now lie still in my hands. The leather of the gloves lightens and darkens in strange patterns that I see to be constantly shifting celandilic script.
“Your first lesson is to commune with the gloves. I’ll come and see you again once you’ve finished the first part of your training,” says my uncle backing away from me, a lot of his boisterousness consumed in a new solemn expression, “enjoy the cakes and sandwiches, as I must go. I have much to prepare for.”
With that final word he extends his wings and disappears into the night. My father beside me was pale as a ghost looking at the artifacts in my hands.