BOOK II
Roots of Humanity
Chapter 45
Until Death and Beyond
Asher yawned and stretched lazily, getting up out of the bed.
Grabbing a jug of water and breakfast, he quickly wolfed it down, exercising afterward. It had been two days since he met the Emperor, and he hadn't left the cabin since. He mostly just slept and worked out, occasionally chatting for a little while with the curious goblin. Apparently, he somehow got the wind of what Asher 'did' and it made the little green thing all but unbearable in terms of questions.
Qyne hadn't shown up ever since he squashed her into the bloody mist, and he hardly had the mind to invite her. Rather, he enjoyed the peace and the calm of the days. There was no prerogative to rush out and try to conquer the next Stage; for all he knew, Qyne and her mother would still attempt to screw him over and take the ring back, 'promises' be damned. As such, he decided to squeeze in every last minute he could before he had no choice but to take on a Stage, enjoying what could possibly be the last few days of his life.
Though most would likely find the drab routine soul-sucking and boring, Asher found it... comforting. Waking up to silence, being coddled by it and warmly embraced, was the sort of quiet that he had always yearned for.
On the third day, he went to the plaza because he’d missed all of his ‘appointments’ with Ey’lwan and figured he could try and squeeze some information about the people holding his neck hostage.
As always, the plaza was rife with life--hundreds roamed the paved streets, streaming in and out of the buildings like ants, hurried in the wake of desire. He ignored them all, however, still ever so slightly dazed as he lined up in front of the smithy. As always, there were quite a few people waiting, mostly men. The soft chatter permeated the air, words put out into the world humbling, but it mattered little to him.
He drifted, like the leaf through the wind, detached from seemingly everywhere. Bit by bit, the line moved, and within two hours, he found himself inside the smithy. It was sweltering hot, yet the figure in front seemed wholly at ease, her gaze focused on the churning fire in the furnace. She turned, and the eyes and lips of apathy curled up ever so slightly in a smile as the doors to the smithy were flung shut behind him.
"Come," she guided him to the smithy's backyard where a rather sweet and rustic porch broke out from the rear, with a garden of fruits as the view. They were lemons, it seemed. "There isn't much room," she said as Asher sat down and as she reached for the cupboard hoisted onto the wall, taking out a jug and two cups. "So I can only grow one thing. My mother used to make a breathtaking lemon cake when I was young. And even though each one of my attempts at cooking ends up in a literal blaze, I still keep her close abreast through this."
“... thanks,” he said as she handed him the cup of transparent liquid. It was scentless and colorless, prompting him to think for a moment that it was just water. However, just as he was about to guzzle it down, her arm reached over hurriedly and stopped him.
“Do you want to die?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“Sip by sip,” she warned. “Dear Hella, even my father cannot guzzle the dewed sunshine.”
"Oh," Asher chuckled faintly. "I thought it was water." taking a sip, he felt gratitude--alongside quite a few other things--bubble up within him. The fire roared down his throat like a dragon, his lungs kindling with ancient flames. "Holy shit."
“Right?” unlike him, Ey’lwan took a rather large swig, exhaling in seeming exhilaration. “That’s the stuff.”
“God, fuck--it’d hurt less to just set my insides on fire directly,” Asher began to violently cough, setting down the jug.
“Ha ha ha, what are you whining about? Feel the burn,” she said. “It’s what keeps you alive.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s killing the things that are keeping me alive. Like my organs.”
“Ha ha ha.”
“Shit, what the fuck is this made out of?!! Literal fire?!” it wasn’t getting any better--if anything, it was getting worse. But, in the streams of pain, there was a minutia of it--pleasure.
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“... in a way,” she said. “There is a herb called ‘sunsoaker’. It grows only in the Wallawen Plains, and there is only one specific farmer that can get it ripe. Supposedly, it soaks up the star’s energy into its heart and, when it blossoms, it sparks into fire so beautiful that nothing else compares. There are only around a thousand jugs made every year. I could probably charge you around a hundred thousand Souls for that sip alone, you know?”
“...” Asher winced and grimaced, but understood. Not for the taste of it--nothing was heavenly enough to be worth that much--but scarcity, especially attached to such a tale, would drive up the value of the thing without even trying. Furthermore, it still burned. He imagined that entities larger than life likely enjoyed the burn, unlike him who was being suffocated by it. Tears and snot had long since begun straying out, and sweat had doused the back of his neck... but it passed. He was alive, gasping for breath and struggling, but alive. "Fuck," he cursed, glancing at the jug.
“You want another one, don’t you?” she asked with a playful tone.
“...”
“Don’t be ashamed of the wants,” she added. “Few are able to resist the temptation.”
“Seeing as you’re being this nice to me,” he said. “You must have heard.”
“Hm? Oh, your little episode? Ha ha, well--not to dismay you--the tale is hardly about you.”
“Right, the Emperor’s and Duke’s clash. Figures.”
“... you’ve made a foe of the entire Fairy Race,” she said after a moment’s silence. “So, for today, how about I regale some myths about the winged whores?”
“I take it that you don’t like them very much?” Asher smiled faintly, resisting the temptation to take another sip.
“Should it matter, few do,” she said, taking another swig as though she were drinking ordinary cider. “The legend goes that the first fairies were born out of the flowers’ desire to touch the star that was feeding them. They yearned so much to get closer to the embrace of warmth that they grew wings and flew toward the skies. But, because they defied the natural order, they were cursed, abhorred by the very nature that birthed them. Every generation, only one Fairy has even the faintest chance of bearing an offspring, and thus they dub her the Queen. A few times, it goes, through the history, they were down to just a few of them. Even now, there are only 17 fairies alive.”
“...” Asher remained silent, but slowly began to understand the weight of his condemnation back in the throne room. It was no wonder the Queen was willing to give up something as monumental as the ring in order to save her daughter.
"Don't pity them yet, though," she added. "They are the shrewd, self-important sort who see themselves above everyone and everything else. However, there is a reason why, even with such pathetic numbers and inability to win even a battle, let alone a war, they corner such an important role in the world. Alas, that is no longer part of a myth," she added with a smile and Asher smiled back. He didn't expect her to be so overt and open with him--at most, he expected some old tales similar to the stories his mom used to tell him in childhood to stop him from misbehaving. Or, at least, to try and stop him.
"... you do well in pretending you can stand me," Asher said. Her gaze grew deeper as he took another sip and let the fire burn through him. Letting the hurt keep him awake and alive.
“Do you believe humans to be good, Ash?” she suddenly asked.
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“If there is a permanence of good and evil in this world, do you think humans belong to the side of good and that we are evil?”
“... believe it or not, this concept isn’t entirely alien to me, pardon the pun,” he said, continuing on through her confused gaze. “There was this, uh, discussion, back home, about whether it’d be better to resist or submit to a technologically advanced alien race, should they ever come visit us. Some people believed that we ought to protect our sovereignty even unto our deaths, and some believed submitting ourselves would allow us to make headway into the future, beyond the scope of our own capabilities. This is just that, in a way,” he added, taking another sip even though the burn hadn’t subsided yet. “Do I loathe to be here? Of course. But I don’t necessarily think you, or even Qyne, really, are evil. Nor do I think people are good.
“At the start of this, Qyne told me that all people here were, in some ways, sinners. Evil, she claimed. But... I don't think I'm evil. I've done evil things, sure, but I've also done good things. Just like you," he looked at her. "In your mind, you likely think I'm some sub-intellectual specimen struggling pointlessly. In fact, you may have even said something of the effect to another. And yet, you... are nice to me. Dutifully repaying what you promised, even if you could just renege on it without any consequences. You knew from the onset that I was just bullshitting my way into your good graces, but you still accepted it."
“...” she remained silent, her gaze firmly affixed at him, taking yet another swig of the burning liquid.
“There is no such thing as good or evil, I think, not in the absolutes,” he said. “They exist in our actions, in the way we impact the world. It’s a constant dance, you know, between doing the right thing and doing the easy thing. And, in a way, this is sort of like how we used to schedule dog fighting rings back home, or how we used to have gladiator arenas. I just have to accept that, right now, I’m the animal.”
“That’s... a way to look at it,” she said with a strain in her voice. Asher smiled lightly to himself--she wouldn’t understand it, naturally. She’d never known the other side of the door, the shaded side of the mountain. “Not all of us believe in this, you know?”
“What?”
“My brother,” she said, taking a sip, looking away from him and toward the likely fake sky. “He died because he believed what we are doing is wrong. Ever since, I’ve hated humans with every ounce of my flesh. After all, if you hadn’t been there, my brother would still be alive.”
“I’m sorry,” Asher whispered.
“You were wrong about one thing, Ash,” she said, looking at him with a faint smile. “It’s true that I loathe the humans to this day, and would scarcely shed a tear should they all disappear tomorrow.”
“...”
"But I don't loathe you. If ever so little," she added, closing her eyes suddenly as her lips curled up into the smile of a dreamer. "You make me realize precisely what my brother believed in so devoutly, so ardently that he was willing to die for it, throwing away all the gifts given to him. Even in front of the Emperor, the Crown that holds the weight of the world, you lifted your head," she added. "And loudly declared your pride. Even unto death, you remained whole. Just like Ennow," she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. They were strained with tears, and yet she seemed resplendently warm under the faint luster of invisible light. "Indomitable until death and beyond."