It gave Axeton comfort to look at the stars again, even though…what was he doing here?
What happened? I didn’t…oh yeah, I must have died. he thought. He anticipated that he would be escorted to be judged by the gods, but he continued to sit, trying to determine where he was. He could normally get a good idea based on the stars in the night sky, but these…they looked almost…distended. Well, the space between them was, anyway. Back home, Niamh the Fallen and The King’s Scepter were practically touching; but here, it seemed like they were giving each other some space, Axeton pondered, looking up.
Suddenly, a white light flashed in front of him. A comet streaked from one side of his vision to the center, before stopping in its tracks.
Wait… he paused.
The comet disappeared, then a few seconds later, another appeared in the same place, shooting across before stopping and disappearing again. With nothing better to do with himself, Axeton carefully studied the comets as they traveled. They all followed the same trajectory: from the right side, they tore left through Zhorii the Archer’s bow, then stopped just before reaching the arm of Phillandes the Layered. In the years of looking up at the night sky, He never saw comets behaving this consistently.
Looking closely at them, it suddenly hit him. A tiny fragment broke off at the same place, every time. Axeton wasn’t seeing multiple comets, he was seeing the same one, falling over and over.
Wherever he was, something or someone was stopping and resetting the span of a few seconds, creating a loop.
The priest grew very concerned; he had no way to defend himself and there is some entity here with the capacity to control time. He couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, so he thought as loudly as he could.
“Someone…help me please!”
“I already am…" a soft and familiar voice responded in his mind. It sounded like the quiet, reasoning voice that had guided him for so long. It sounded external, when normally it seemed to come from within. Axeton’s mind seemed to almost be massaged by the words, and it somehow calmed him down, allowing him to regain his composure.
This calming voice seems so familiar, he thought.
“Where am I?” He asked the Voice.
“You’re in a nexus, a place where reality is born and dies, outside of the realms and dominions of the gods and man," the Voice responded elegantly.
“A nexus…” Axeton wondered. “Like a crossroads?”
“Yes. You were on the road of the living, on your way to the Eternal Land of the Dead to be judged. I caught you and pulled you into this nexus.”
If Axeton could feel his shoulders, he would have shrugged. “Thanks, I guess,” he thought back in response. “But why pull me out of the afterlife? Shouldn’t I be judged like everyone else?”
The voice paused. “You will be judged," it answered. “But not now. You are the only one left with a connection to my Bell, so you’re the only one who I trust to find it.”
Axeton’s mind went blank. “Are you…Avara?” he asked, trying to be as reverent as possible.
“Yes," Avara responded. “I saw what your old master did to my people, and how he stole my Bell.”
“But…I can’t see you,” Axeton stated. “Shouldn’t you have some kind of manifestation…a physical form?” he looked around but could still only see the stars in a loop.
Avara seemed amused. “Yes, I’m standing over your broken body now. I needed to build it anew, and your perception was the first part rebuilt. Your soul is like…an arrow, stuck in mid-flight.”
That would explain the comet repeating itself, Axeton reflected, forgetting the goddess could hear his thoughts.
“Hmm? Oh, the comet. Indeed. I had to adjust the flow of time to keep your soul from moving on. I can’t stop it entirely, but I can make it…skip…to buy you some time. It still passes normally for the world below.”
Axeton grew saddened, thinking about Avandale. “My goddess…” he continued. “Why didn’t you stop Dorian from stealing the Bell and killing everyone?”
Avara was silent for a moment.
“Do not presume to know the intent of the gods," she started. “But, because you are strong and have a connection to me, I’ll enlighten you."
“The man Dorian has a Gift that can only be used for evil. Do you agree?” Avara asked.
“Yes," Axeton replied. “His old gift of Leadership is gone, and something awful has taken his place. Although he could use it for good, he won’t.”
“And you know that Gifts are rarely given to people who walk the land below the heavens and are bestowed upon them at birth,” Avara continued. “When someone experiences a powerful emotion, one that means more to them than anything else, a Destined Object will attach itself to them, giving them fuel to use their Gifts. The people call this ‘Proximancy’, because the closer you are to your Object, the stronger your Gift is.”
“Of course,” Axeton responded. “We’re taught the basics in school”.
Avara’s cadence became foreboding. “We bestow gifts so that it may enrich your lives, but Dorian performed a blasphemous ritual. He broke the sacred link to his first Destined Object and made a pact with Hemexion, whom you know as the god of Power and Conquest. He was reborn, given a Gift from his god directly. Not only does this abomination of a Gift let him Deceive people with great ease, but his strong connection to Hemexion makes his actions and whereabouts, as well as those under his command, blind to me.”
Axeton’s mind was trying to wrap itself around this new information. He had never heard of any ritual or anything that could disconnect a Gift, let alone getting a Gift from a god directly. A Destined Object will disconnect itself from you if you’re far enough away and experience a strong enough new emotion, but doing it on purpose was unheard of, he thought. The goddess continued.
“I felt the unease of the people of Avandale," she said solemnly. “The boy Tommen fell first. I saw you with him.”
“I couldn’t do anything to save him ," Axeton muttered, ashamed.
“Well, I’m working on that," Avara replied. “But Tommen’s untimely and traumatic death in a peaceful village helped to alert me. When I used my Sight to try and see what was happening, the gray clouds that overtook the village told me everything I needed to know. I tried to Move the Bell, but it was surrounded by something that cut off my power. When they were moving it, whatever was shielding me from the Bell yielded its cover for a second, and I was able to Siphon away some of its gold.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The Voice spoke painfully. “I’m…sorry. I should have been more prepared; I should have foreseen what Hemexion was going to do. When you live for Eons, you take surprise for granted.”
“I understand," he replied. “So…what are you going to do?”
Axeton saw a flash and was suddenly back in his own body. He felt around; no scars, no aches or pains, and his arm had been restored. But something felt very different.
Looking forward, Axeton saw who had been speaking to him this whole time. Avara, in a shimmering green and white dress that cascaded and flowed to the ethereal ground. Her brilliant, golden eyes set in a tanned face. The goddess’ hair was so blindingly white it almost hurt Axeton to witness it, in a long braid down her back. She stared at the priest, assessing him with her lips in a straight, but determined line.
“I will do what I can, but you are going to kill Dorian and bring back my children in Avandale.” She told him flatly. “He can’t be allowed to find the Destiny Engine.”
Axeton marveled at the goddess, how at least some of what Dorian had told him all those years ago was real. But he had to face the facts of what she was asking of him. He shook his head.
“Dorian is who trained me, I could never beat him,” He reasoned. “Even one-on-one he just toyed with me, and my Gift doesn’t help, even if I had glory from the Bell.”
Avara smirked. “Well, am I or am I not the Goddess of Rebirth?”
Out of thin air, floating in front of her was the hilt and cross guard of Axeton’s dueling blade. It had shattered just above the guard, a jagged edge protruding from it.
Then, as if she were beckoning a line of marching ants, a stream of colorful shapes erupted from the ether below the goddess’ feet. She guided it with a flick of her wrist, and it wrapped around the broken hilt in an orbit. Looking closer, Axeton could see the colorful shapes were really shards of broken glass; the ones that once portrayed the visage of the goddess… and ultimately killed him in no smart part with Dorian’s assistance. Flicking her wrist again, she summoned a line of gold from a pouch on her waist, followed by a thin thread of silvery metal. They joined the glass surrounding the hilt.
The rapid tinkling noise of the glass grew louder and louder, the snakes of gold and silver whipping and whistling through the air. Suddenly, thunder boomed as a force Axeton couldn’t see blew Avara’s hair back, then stuttering bright flashes of golden light enveloped the floating debris.
“By the sacred command of the Goddess of Rebirth," she announced loudly and with great power. “I bestow upon my chosen avatar rebirth, an exception for valiant deeds set forth in the Accord of the Gods. This cannot be questioned, as is of divine providence. Stretch forth thine hand and accept the sacred mantle of my majesty!”
As she finished her prayer, a strange object appeared before the priest. It had the hilt of his blade, with dark green leather and gold threads. The cross guard was now gold, and the blade itself seemed to be pieced together with shards of broken, colorful glass. It was trimmed between the pieces and around the edge in the same shimmering metal Axeton saw the goddess summon before.
Axeton stood in wonder and awe as the weapon floated above him. He looked at Avara; her face tilted back but her eyes trained on him. The unseen force continued to impact her, blowing her hair and dress backward like a ribbon caught in a strong wind.
Reaching for the weapon, he stopped.
“Goddess," he quivered. “How could I possibly be worthy of wielding your incredible power?”
Avara’s face flashed with anger.
“DID YOU NOT ATTEMPT TO SAVE TOMMEN?”
“Yes, but”
“DID YOU NOT SERVE YOUR PEOPLE WELL AS MY PRIEST?”
“Yes.” And I loved them all.
“DID YOU NOT TRY TO SAVE EVERYONE AND RECOVER MY BELL?”
“I did.”
“DID YOU NOT STEP TOE-TO-TOE WITH AN ENEMY YOU FEARED, TO PROTECT THOSE PEOPLE?”
He felt power and courage rushing through him. “I did!” he shouted.
“DID YOU NOT DIE FOR ME AND FOR THE PEOPLE YOU LOVED?”
“I DID!” Axeton cried.
She pointed at the sword in front of him. “THEN CHOOSE TO LIVE, AND FIGHT!” the goddess bellowed, as she manipulated the very fabric of reality.
“I WILL!” Axeton cried, grabbing the hilt.
The sound in the room ceased completely. Then, a loud crack boomed as Axeton felt the pressure in the air change around him. Avara smiled, then stumbled before catching herself.
The goddess looked exhausted. She breathed heavily, looking at the sword, then at her new paladin.
“A wise choice," she panted, relieved.
Axeton nodded. “My goddess, what have you done?” he asked.
“I told you, I’m the goddess of Rebirth," she replied, poking him in the chest. “Through no small amount of celestial power, you have been reborn in a new body, and with that, comes a new Gift. I pulled as much strength as I could from the entities I control, ones that match you and will help on your journey. You now have the Gift of Empyrea.”
His mind blanked, then he regained himself. “What does it do?” he asked.
“It means," she replied. “That through your Gift, you can enact the will of the gods. The good gods, anyway. I’ve never bestowed this Gift upon anyone before, so I don’t know the full extent of it. But I do know that you can weaken your wicked enemies, heal yourself and others, and can see the true nature of someone’s heart. As you get stronger and more attuned with your Gift, more may manifest.”
“This is an incredible Gift, my goddess," he stuttered. “But I don’t have a Destined Object to fuel them”.
She pointed at the sword. “Dear boy, you do. Look.”
Axeton glanced down at the sword, gently rubbing his hand over the now golden cross guard. He didn’t realize it before, but he would recognize the color and sheen anywhere; he had polished it a thousand times. This gold was what Avara had secretly Siphoned from the Bell. Axeton’s eyes moved to the glass and silver blade, with slight concern.
“This glass died and has been reborn with a new purpose, just like you," she quipped. “Unbreakable and trimmed with titanium.”
“Titanium?” he asked. “I thought it was only good for making valuable coins. It’s too rare to be used for anything else.”
The goddess nodded. “It is true that those in the world below the heavens use them for currency,” she began. “Only the gods and their chosen know that it acts as a conduit between the Gifted and their Destined Object. This only works on Gifts bestowed by gods directly; if you don’t have a Gift like that, it’s inert.”
Of course, that’s why Dorian’s blade was so strong against mine. His must be woven with titanium as well. Axeton mused.
“A few warnings and rules," Avara chided. “Since your sword is a Destined Object now, you shouldn’t be away from it for long.”
“That makes sense," Axeton replied.
“Good. The next rule is more of a warning. Because titanium is linked so strongly to the gods and to me, if you do anything that I wouldn’t approve of, your powers will be greatly diminished. However, the reverse is also possible. The more I would approve of your actions, the stronger you will be.”
He blinked. “Things you wouldn’t approve of?” he asked.
Avara crossed her arms across her chest. “Things unbecoming of the Avatar of Rebirth. Wickedness, subterfuge, lying, stealing.”
So, no more Stance Ten, he thought.
“Exactly,” she answered.
She continued. “You know that emotions are tied to Gifts; the one you feel when you first link yourself to a Destined Object is the one you must ‘tap into’ to use the Gift. For your Sight, ‘feeling at home’ was your emotion. With the Gift of Empyrea, it’s peace. So, if you are unrighteously angry or vengeful, you will have difficulty accessing your Gift. Do you understand? You MUST learn to be peaceful, even during trying times.”
Axeton took a breath in. “Yes, my goddess.”
“Good," she replied. “One more thing I must mention. Your sword is named Glainne, and is a direct conduit to me, as well as an augmented Destined Object. If you look through the panes of the blade while facing the morning sun, it will give you direction on where to go. But if you act in a way that would harm your connection to me, Hemexion may poison the sword’s visions to be used against me, so be careful.”
“I will," he vowed, bowing at the heavenly being before him. Suddenly, a circle of light started to glow beneath his feet. Axeton thought for a moment, then raised his hand. “I have a question.”
The goddess paused. “Okay,” she said.
“Dorian told me a few things about Destined Objects and their relations to the gods, but when he told me, he had the Gift of Deception. Was he lying then? Also, if he was telling the truth and the gods don’t have any part in creating Objects, how is your power tied to your bell?”
The goddess nodded knowingly. “I remember when he told you that.”
She sighed. “Yes, although Dorian was literally reborn to lie and deceive, what he told you was correct. We give Gifts, but the glory from Destined Objects is what fuels them. We allowed it because making your Gifts stronger seems to have made mankind happy.”
“As for my Bell,” she continued. “If a Destined Object is old enough and there are many people attached to it who worship the same god, then that Object becomes…an extension of our power, you could say. It becomes part of us, and vice versa.”
Axeton nodded. “That’s why you want the Bell back, so your powers will be restored,” he surmised.
“Exactly,” the goddess answered. “Not only are my powers weakened without it being in a sacred place, I don’t know what Dorian is planning on doing with it. But it can’t be good. Find my Bell. Strike down the blasphemer Dorian and bring the bell to the top of the Arch Crest Mountains. Ring it three times, and I will regain my powers to their fullest; allowing me to restore Avandale in whichever way we see fit.”
Axeton sheathed Glainne into a dark leather sheath that appeared at his side, along with a belt trimmed in gold thread.
“Bring honor to my name," she ordered, already knowing the answer.
“I will,” Axeton replied with confidence.
The paladin’s mind and vision went blank, before he found himself sitting at the trunk of a tree, in a forest he did not recognize. The morning sun was cresting over the treetops, and he brought Glainne up in front of it. In one of the panes, it showed a few Grenfield recruits, leaving the ashes of Avandale. They took some back roads, then arrived at a large town to spend their stolen coins.
Axeton knew where that town was. It was time to move.
Sheathing Glainne, the reborn paladin started walking in that direction. A new life, a new Gift, a new purpose.