Lucius Domitius Aurelianus

"Why?" he tried to say, but he only archived to make blood come out of his throat. He reposed on the ground watching the Thracian sky. Above him, Sol was shining bright. The grass beneath him felt comfortable.

His end was ironic. After a lifetime of war and hundreds of battles. Starting as a simple legionary and becoming Imperator of Rome. His praetorian guard had slain him like a dog. What plot he wondered in the last moments of his life had he been a victim of. He couldn't understand what would they gain from his death. His lasts thoughts went to Rome.

For how long would it stand in his absence? He had done what he could to get it out of the crisis that had plagued it when he became Imperator. But he hadn't had the time to make meaningful changes. He doubted the eternal city would stand long as it was. A pool of his blood formed beneath him, disrupting his musings.

When he regained consciousness darkness surrounded him. It pressured him almost physically. Every time he tried to open his eyes, the brightness of it blinded him. He couldn't feel his body, he felt as if he was floating. Eventually, the darkness subsided.

Then he opened his eyes, he could see he was in a cave. He started to feel how cold the cave was. There was no source of light, but he could see well enough. He put his hand on his neck feeling as if blood would keep spilling out of his throat. But he felt nothing in his neck, not even a scar. He looked down and realized he was naked. Looking around he saw that leaning on a wall of the cave was his spatha. Not the one he used as Imperator which was adorned with gold and gemstones. But the one he had used as a common legionary. It was simple, unrecognizable from any other but for the marks of years of battle that decorated it. It looked like the sword of a proper soldier if he said so himself. Next to it was a long-sleeved tunic dyed deep red and white and a couple of caligae. He tried to move towards them but after he took a single step he fell to his knees. His vision became blurry, and he fell face-first to the ground.

Lucius dreamed, at first he didn't understand what was he dreaming. He realized he was seeing the future of Rome. He saw assassinations, battles, treaties and betrayals. Rome had two Imperators, Christianism took hold of the empire. He saw the fall of Rome.

When he woke up Lucius Domitius Aurelianus wept. After a few minutes, he dried his tears. He got dressed and put the caligae on, as if ready to venture down the cave. But then he sat down with his back leaning on the wall of the cave and put the spatha between his legs. He remained seated for a long time. Thinking, about Rome, about how was he still alive and about how everything he had done would amount to nothing. He knew the dreams were real. He sometimes dreamed of what could happen and of what had happened. His dreams had aided him greatly in the siege of Tyana and the subsequent campaign.

After a while, he made up his mind. He got up, took his scatha and decided that none of it mattered anymore. He was born in Dacia, the child of a farmer and a freed-woman and with nothing but his scatha, he became Imperator of Rome. If he had a sword he needed nothing more. Then he decided to make the most of what was left of his life, that is if he was even alive. He lifted his scatha, it was much heavier than he remembered. It was heavier than the last scatha he had lifted. But the day he couldn't lift a scatha was the day he would lie down and die, that day was not today. With his scatha in hand, he went down through the passage out of the cavern he was in.

The passage was two times his height and three times the width of his shoulders. Here the darkness was heavier, he no longer could see as if there was light around him. He couldn't see at all, he pointed his sword onward, and he moved slowly. Afraid that he would hit the wall if he was careless, but the passage was straight.

The floor was smooth and as he moved forwards it began to feel slippery, as if it was becoming moister and moister the more he advanced. As he continued he began to feel a warm current of air coming from where he was going. He stopped when he realized that the current came every few breaths. He hesitated for a minute but in the end, he resumed his advance.

Lucius couldn't see anything, but he could feel the ground below him becoming stickier and softer. It didn't feel as if there were hard rock beneath him but more as if he was standing in mud. He could also feel the air around him becoming more humid and warmer. A weird stench started to fill the cave as he ventured deeper. The tip of his sword hit something. He took a step backwards, but he slipped and fell on his butt. Then a yellow light appeared, filling the cave with light. He was blinded for a second.

He opened his eyes, and he could only see red around him. He noticed bones nearby and the floor and walls of the passage seemed painted with blood. He also noticed that the passage was much wider and taller than when he had entered it.

He turned his gaze towards the light and froze. The light was coming out of the eye of a giant creature, a monster. The eye itself was bigger than Lucius whole body.

The monster's thick white fur gave it an august appearance. The monster stared at him, and he stared back at the monster. Lucius dared not to move. There was something divine in its gaze. It was like something taken out of one of the legends.

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He had never seen any creature quite like this one. He couldn't even see its mouth. The monster was in what appeared to be a wider and deeper cavern than the passage he was in.

He didn't want to see it either, the monster remained still and so did Lucius. Fear gripped his heart and so did excitement. He had died once no long ago and was a little desensitized to death. But never had he seen a beast like this one. Never had he questioned the absolute power of the gods, but he did so now. What power could they hold over the monster in front of him? What good would it do to pray to Sol, if he was in front of a creature that knew not the touch of his light?

He realized as he stared at its white eye in amazement. That this creature knew no god but itself. Although he was and would forever be a follower of Sol. This was the white one's domain and it held absolute control over it.

Minutes that felt like hours passed by. The white creature did not move, and fear gradually left Lucius, and he put his scatha on the ground in front of him. Then he slowly got up to his knees and spoke. "I am Lucius Domitius Aurelianus". His voice trembled a little at the end, and he waited to see how it would respond. The white creature kept staring at him. Maybe it didn't understand languages, this being seemed primal. Untouched and unmoved by civilization.

Still, Lucius found courage where before was nothing but crippling fear and stood up."I am the Imperator of Rome". This time his voice didn't tremble. He took a step forward and the gaze of the great white monster followed him as he moved."Restorer of the world". He said. He stood tall, defying even. It didn't matter what power this monster out of the mythos possessed.

He would not prostrate himself to any other than Sol Invictus himself. The white monster snorted making Lucius take a step backwards. Its eye lowered looking right in front of itself as if inviting him to come closer. Lucius hesitantly walked forwards towards its gaze. Taking every step full of doubt. The only thing he could hear while walking was his steps resounding through the passage and the breathing of the creature. Then he was right in front of the monster.

The creature only eye once again on his own eyes. He remained in front of the beast, its head dwarfing him. He wondered what the rest of its body looked like and his heart kept pounding faster and faster. He waited, expecting to be devoured at any moment but the moment never came. He kept his eyes on the beast's eye and standing tall. If he was to die at this moment he would not die cowering in fear.

The beast moved, and it did something which filled Lucius with dread.

It inhaled and Lucius felt his life leave him. His legs began to tremble, his skin wrinkled, even more, his vision worsened as his eyes whitened, his joints pained him and his muscles degraded. The beast was breathing in his life and Lucius couldn't even move out of the way. The beast stopped inhaling he dropped to his knees unable to keep standing. A shadow of his former self, he looked up to the beast. It took all his strength to keep his head up.

The beast then exhaled and strength returned to Lucius. His vision improved, his skin became smoother his hair regrew and darkened and his muscles regenerated. Lucius looked into the beast's eye and saw his reflection. His clothes were too big for him, or it became clear, he was too small for his clothes. He had shrunk, his hair was longer and darker than it had been in years. His face was childish, he no longer had a beard, he looked as if he was ten or twelve years old.

Looking into its eye he could see that behind him there was not the bloodied passage he had come from. But the coast of a river as wide as the Danube and even swifter.

He turned around and the smells hit him harder than the bright sun above. The smell of the river combined with the smell of winter and grass. He felt the smells with an intensity he had not felt in decades and saw the shapes with a clarity he did not remember they had. The wind blew in his face, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Enjoying the feeling of life. He then turned around and there was nothing but a field of grass with some trees.

Where was he and what had exactly happened? He looked back to the river and saw his spatha. It no longer had the marks of hundreds of battles and years of combats. Like himself it seemed rejuvenated, it also didn't look like it was made of steel anymore. The spatha's blade was black, so black in fact that it didn't even reflect the sun. He lifted it, and it was heavy, but not as heavy as it had been just a few minutes past. He sat by the river for hours until the sunset. He sat with the scatha between his legs like had sat after he had dreamed about the fall of Rome.

It seemed so insignificant, he felt so small. What was he in comparison with a being which moulded time like artists made sculptures? A being that could appear and disappear itself and others at will. A being which breathed life in and out of the world? He sat there and thought of how small he felt. It was how an ant would feel when it saw men and animals. Did the beings he called gods felt small in contrast to beings he couldn't even begin to imagine?.

All he knew is that he was way too small and unimportant to even understand how small and unimportant he was. It was with those thoughts that he watched the night sky full of stars he had not seen before. What should he do when even reality betrayed him? At least the moon still was there.