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Wyatt Graves
Stretching and using the side of a wagon as a ledge, I feel the pain from my midsection nearly gone, remnants left to sting me as I finish the recovery process. And what does that mean for me? Oh, that means I finally get to join guard duty.
We are still in Tornridge, after all. While the Outlaws are mostly dead around here, the occasional demon and wild monster still exist. And once we get into Sinscreak, it'll only get worse., for most of the demon's attention among our borders is in the endeavor to strike down Bent. The Pygmies are the same, yet the Nahullo are different, spending time to grow their forces in Starbluffs before moving. The information from Autumn says all that, at least. Who knows how much of it is true?
At least Blake's feeling better as well, the Concoctions within the Vault fixing up her remaining saturation issues. Bright sides, right? Can't always be negative. No one died in this recent fight, even if it came close, and we even gained a new passenger.
Though, Autumn does rub me the wrong way. Something about her just doesn't feel right. Maybe it's because she's the daughter of the widely recognized 2nd most powerful human, Maddox Adkins, but I don't think that's it. Perhaps it's because she so quickly joined us without a care for who we were. But I'm not sure.
She always looks at me with a weird eye. I don't think anyone has told her who I am yet, as it's only been a few days since we picked her up, but that strangeness is there.
Sighing, I clamber to the top of our bulkiest wagon, meeting the Sea's Shadow's daughter in the eyes. She's on guard duty as well, the insomniac beside her.
"Time to switch, Abraham. Johnny said you have to sleep tonight. It's been four days."
The alabaster-haired, skinned, and eyed man sighs as he pushes off his knees to his feet and taps his knuckles against mine.
"Thanks, I guess. Enjoy your night."
I reciprocate the gesture as a Nightmare of a man with liquid arms appears at the bottom of the wagon and catches Abraham as he vaults off. He's gotten more comfortable with his Nightmares, that's for damn sure.
Once he's gone, I join Autumn on the sheets tied to the top of the centermost wagon. It's not too uncomfortable, but constantly feeling the wind as I ride the wagon without any protection is uncomfortable. I don't speak to her as I sit, preferring to think about my lost friends, but the woman throws noise into the quiet windy night.
"So you're a Graves, huh?"
Startled by her coming out of the gate with it during our first private conversation, I can only turn to her with a raised eyebrow. I'm not as sensitive to it as I used to be, but the prospect of who her father is worries me. And how she learned it is a mystery. People 'round here tend to keep to themselves, especially with a newbie.
"Uh... Yeah. Is that a problem?"
She shakes her head somberly, adding to her first statement.
"No... I was just thinking of the past. I spent some time with my father when I was younger, and he spoke to Killian, I assume your father, while I was with him. The only thing I remember is how they spoke of a gate. Something to do with Heaven. It was so long ago that I couldn't help but ask you about it. Do you know anything?"
Her words stun me like a bomb as I process them. She met my father? A gate? Heaven? Didn't Abraham say the Warmaster mentioned that?
Realizing that my thoughts are spiraling, I focus on the first thing.
"You met my father?"
Autumn nods, her ocean-blue eyes radiant in the moonless night. Her pale blue chains that coil around her body synergize so nicely that I feel like a roving sea as she speaks. Is her father's touch that dominating?
My thoughts are ripped from her father as she speaks, her voice gradually shifting toward a depressive tone.
"Over fifteen years ago, yeah, so when I was about eleven or so. Killian looked odd, like his limbs weren't his own, and his face was a patchwork of skin. He gave me nightmares for months just seeing him once. And after that, my father didn't let me come anywhere close to important things."
Odd? Limbs that weren't his own? Patchwork? Is my father a zombie? Wait... he had a Craftsman Sigil, right? Oh... I know he can't feel pain, but that is... insane.
He used himself as the artifice. Coltsmiths have their Colts, Blacksmiths have their Claymores, and it appears Killian Graves, my father, uses his own flesh.
It takes me a moment, but I realize what Autumn said at the end there, too. It seems as though my father attributed to something big in her life. I can't help but ask about it. Is Maddox that brutal?
"Maddox kicked you to the curb for being scared of Killian? The Undying?"
Autumn shakes her head partially before nodding. Her tone only continues to plunge until it's laced with malice.
"Not exactly. I still was supported; he owns Lawless Lake, after all. But I no longer got to see him. It's a common theme among my siblings. We are close to him throughout our childhood until we show the slightest sign of fear, laze, or lust. Not just that, but as we grew up, we all competed with each other, attempting to show we were the best. It went from maths to combat and everything in between. I was one of the last to be ignored. Only two others were still close to him after me."
Damn. That's insane. Why? Why would a father be so willing to toss aside and ignore their children? What reason could a parent possibly be so strict and nitpicky with their child? He brushed aside any sign of weakness and forced his kids to grow up rigid.
That sounds familiar. Aniwye did that with me. Though I was alone, a singular child, whereas Maddox had dozens. But still, Aniwye had a reason. She was asked to do so by the man she loved, a kind of final wish from what I could gather.
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While I hate what she did, I can't bring myself to hate her. The memories remain, both the good and bad. And yet, when I look back, I must see the good as those were ingrained into my mind, and the bad was beat into my body.
But still? Why, Maddox? Is he just evil?
"Why did your father do all those things?"
She chuckles sadly as she leans back onto the top of the wagon.
"I know you understand. The weight. The expectation. The constant provocation. As a Graves, I'm sure you get it more than me, probably more than my father. I'm only the daughter of a singular man who reached the top. You're the last of a lineage that all have. Your blood goes back hundreds of years, each stain permanent on the fields of the world."
Autumn stops momentarily as her eyes stare into the moonless atmosphere above. I try to counter her, to say I'm not that special, but she doesn't even let me start.
"Maddox once told me and my two half-siblings that we are his legacy. That only those Godly few can open the gate. I don't know what he meant by that, but I'm sure Ryder would know. He's still with Maddox on his ship, after all. He won the contest. He won the war for our father's affection. The rest were thrown off the boat the moment we reached sixteen. Ryder, Rhuger, and I stayed longer for the competition, but eventually, I left, too."
Silence hangs as I take in her words, committing Ryder's name to memory. For someone such as him, capable of becoming chosen by the Sea's Shadow, should be remembered even if I have no clue what the gate means, either.
But as the quiet continues, I wonder what her family is like. It seems she grew up somewhat like me, only not spared of the consequences of a brutal childhood on the developing mind.
"What were your siblings like? The two that you stuck with for the longest? Were you close?"
Autumn doesn't reply at first, choosing to wait a few minutes before doing so.
"I was close with Rhuger. He was only a year older than me, so we had much in common. Even after I was cut out, we kept in contact through letters, but he was slain in a final challenge set by Maddox. Slain by Ryder."
"Oh..."
She smiles with a knowing, sad smile.
"Yeah. For some, it's better to not have any family at all. Ryder was... perfect. In almost every way. Ether? Perfect. Combat? Perfect. Knowledge? Perfect. Leadership? Perfect. None of us could best him in anything but Rhuger, the fool born with a sublime connection to Sigils. Ryder only has one flaw that we all see but our father. He's arrogant as hell. It took Maddox decades, but his youngest child fit what he wanted, a perfect specimen to train."
He sounds too good to be true. Good at everything? Is that even possible?
"Where is he now, then? With a repertoire like that, how is he not an Angel?"
Autumn sighs, an unexpected answer returning to my question as she curls up and hugs her knees with her arms.
"He probably is. Our father is more likely than not hiding him from the Prime and the Tree. For what purpose? I don't know, but I'd say there are probably two to three hidden Angels among man. The conflict at the top is massive, Wyatt. I try to stay away from it, hence, why I came out here. I ran as far as I could from those waves of Maddox, so they wouldn't reach me. If I were you, I'd run the chance you get. I know I will."
Her admittance to running when she has the opportunity is shocking, but I respect her honesty. I also appreciate the fact that despite planning on running, she still does her job of guarding, not that there is much out here right now. The night is quiet and peaceful, an oddity among the recent days.
And in return for her truthfulness, I return the favor.
"I won't run. I can't run, Autumn. This world is broken. Shattered beyond belief. All there is around us is war, suffering, and death. Since... since my Ma died, I haven't had a week of peace. It's all been war. We on the frontier fight so those in the east can siphon more from us, taking all they can. Without me... I..."
She cuts in, giving me a dose of her frankness.
"You think you matter that much, Wyatt? What you have survived is not war. Not true war, at least. That, you will see at Bent. We are but pawns. Small, insignificant pawns to those like Maddox, Eli, and the Prime. Even Ed Summers, the third Virtue, is pushed around by those three. Johnny is but a rook, perhaps a knight at most to those players. And that's not even mentioning the grandmasters. The Pygmies' Creator. The Nahullo's Warmaster. The Binary Lords. We only stand at the board as a race because of a single man, a man that rarely ever shows his face."
I go quiet, thinking about her words, letting them sink in as we travel through the nippy evening.
She's right. What can I really do against those men? Those demons? Kai made me look like a bug, a being to be crushed at any time. And to the Prime, Kai was probably the same.
The world is soon to break into all-out war, the collapse of the Lighthouses imminent.
As I sit atop this creaking wagon, riding through the darkness of this moonless night, a sense of insignificance washes over me. The vast expanse of the starlit sky above seems to mock my existence, reminding me of my frailty in the grand weave. I am but a speck of dust in the wind, a flickering flame in the face of the powerful. In this rugged and untamed land, I have witnessed the mortality of even the partially divine. These unforgiving forces shape the world around me, uncaring for the weak. The biting cold gnaws at my bones as a stark reminder of my vulnerability.
My eyes gaze into the distance, where shadows dance in the periphery of my vision. No lights appear in my vision, so whatever it is bears no Sigils, causing me to lower my watch. The untamed wilderness, an endless frontier full of demons, beasts, and unknown entities, reminds me of the challenges that lie ahead.
As I contemplate the enormity of existence, a wave of humility washes over me, memories of the past entering my mind. The towering spires, the murderous forests, and the ancient river of the Underworld whisper bygone tales of strife unknown to any living mind.
But... I am the Intrepid Strife, no?
I face challenges head-on. That is who I am. Reckless but growing. Every day, I improve, even if it's just a little. I may be weak now, but one day, can't I join those figures on the board?
Even the Prime was a child at one time.
Even the Binary Lords were birthed in the past.
Even mountains start from somewhere.
Even the Gods, eternal as their lifespans are, came into being at some point. Most are said to be created at that stature, but one was not. The Devil. The Devil ascended. That means he, too, was born mortal. None know the race, time, or place, but the Devil was mortal. Everyone, everything starts somewhere.
Turning away from the stars above, I finally reply to Autumn after minutes of rumination.
"A pawn can become a queen, no? I don't know much about chess, but I do know that pawns can evolve."
She nods but holds onto her frame of mind.
"That is true. But no matter how much we evolve, Wyatt, we are simple creatures, unlike those monsters. We cannot grow from chess pieces to players. Perhaps you could develop enough to become an ace, an unrivaled chess piece, but you will never become a player. Neither will I. I can just feel it."
I press her, not understanding why she truly thinks this way.
"Why? Why can't we? What stops us? Everyone starts somewhere, Autumn. Even those figures so high above."
Autumn raises her palm as she clenches it toward me, enunciating all the while.
"You haven't seen them. I overheard that you saw Powers fight, but Virtues like my father, those built for war, are different. With a wave of his hand, a thousand-foot-high wall of water can be moved. I--I--I've seen him kill thousands with a blink. I can't even fathom the strength of the Prime to be able to hold such a monster in check."
Is Maddox really that powerful? I've heard a lot about him, but that seems excessive. Is someone indeed that strong?
"Is he..."
"Yes. My father controls Lawless Lake like his right hand, both the waves and the people. The old Salted Sea was renamed just for his authority, making even the scholars ignore that it's actually a sea, not a lake. Now, his powers are vastly weakened on land, but Maddox is nigh unbeatable in the water."
Another quiet ensues before Autumn continues.
"We... at least I can never reach that level. I can't even fathom the struggles. I've almost died a hundred times or more to attain my current Sigil. Just four days ago, I thought I was dead, the fire practically devouring me. I'd be dead if I had not always carried a large water flask for my skills. Maybe you, you are a Graves, after all, could do it, but the pain... it's... it's not worth it."
She stops speaking as she refuses to meet my gaze, her eyes choosing to look into the nearby forest.
I know what she means by the struggles, the pain, and the near-deaths. But I disagree.
"It is. It is worth it. To protect others, to keep them safe, it's all worth it."
Autumn scoffs as her hand reaches her eyes, rubbing both the sockets as her voice breaks.
"Protect who? Out here in the wilderness, all you are doing is saving those around you. You'd all be much safer in the east, where things are fortified. You are too good a man, Wyatt, but you are foolish. Go east. Live a peaceful life. This world has no heroes. It only has monsters. Either you are eaten or allow others to be eaten in your stead."
I immediately reply, a sense of hope hidden amid the hopelessness.
"That'd be pointless. At most, I'd have a few years before everything comes crumbling down."
She looks at me surprised as if she doesn't know. Though, I guess she wouldn't know. We did learn from quite impressive figures that the world is about to break into war. A war for divinity. The Mother Below is to awaken, and if there aren't more Gods to push her back down, a second Collapse will happen. A much worse one. Hell, even a God risen from a Nahullo or Pygmy wouldn't be too bad. At least they would be sane.
I continue, trying to explain.
"The Mother Below is awakening. I don't know why, whether it's based on time or some other factor, but she's gaining consciousness. The Motherbound move with increasingly more fanaticism, and I heard from the Warmaster of the Nahullo himself that a catastrophic change is coming. The Lighthouses are to collapse, the Mother Below breaking through Gluskab's creation. The Cabin, The Weavery, The Roundtable. It is all to collapse, leaving us without guidance with our Sigils, returning us to millennia ago."
Autumn trembles from words, a shaky question adding to mine that grows to two, then to three.
"Without The Cabin... we can't advance like before. We'll have to slowly figure out our Metaphors, our Proofs, and our abilities. Meanwhile... the Motherbound will still have it all. Why is this not common knowledge? Why don't more people know about this? The Prime... is he doing anything to stop this?"
I bite my lip as I answer the only theory we have.
"We believe... we believe the Prime is preparing his ascension. Time is running out for the old man. Death is racing for him. He may be the strongest mortal, but even he cannot defy a God. So either he becomes a God soon, or he dies. All this does is move up the timeframe for him. Johnny thinks within the year, the eldest Harvey will act, changing the course of history."
I finish as Autumn's eyes droop, melancholy radiating from her shoulders. I lift my hand to reassure her, but I stop.
All I've done is prove how pointless it all is.