Chapter 67: Built for Destruction!
What is your greatest regret? What is the choice you once made or failed to make that haunts you today? Is it that you forfeited a future that was yours? Was it mistaking a traitor for a friend?
I have two. I never got to say hello. And I never got to say goodbye.
Vega, as she and Krimm entered into the grove of trees, got into thinking about regrets. How regrets had affected not herself, but her friends.
Amir’s regret with Ani Arma, delivering him all those years of dedication.
How Skaldi regretted being so cruel to himself.
And how Kaliber regretted her knowledge about the Galtian elves ceremonies, and how she used them. But for now, she would have to figure out where that broken Soul Gem was. If there was a problem with this obstacle, it would need to be fixed first. Then she could pursue her past. Her present. And perhaps even her future.
“How many years ago was this? Seven? Five.” Krimm wandered past Vega as she was reflecting, going up to the structures of the elves. The Assassin was lost in a trance, like she was visiting a place from her childhood. In a way she was, returning to a world that she did not belong to. Dragging her fingers across the walls and trees, she took it all.
Simple yet sophisticated their architecture was. No nails or metals to be found, as all of it had been done with precise wooden carves that stuck together like pieces of a puzzle. One thing was wrong about all the houses. They were all empty.
All of them were empty, and yet you could hear voices from them. Krimm approached a door and heard the giggling of children playing. She flung the door open and the giggling became clear.
The two children were mimicking the clashing of spears and shields, as one was playing a conquering Iozian and the other a noble elf hero. It would almost spur a smile from anyone around. But it wouldn’t because all that Krimm could see of the two children were their figures on the ground, now old and covered in dust.
“Do you hear this too?”
“Yeah… I do.” Vega joined her, gently stepping over the figures and walking through the home. The house was built into one of the trees, melding into it elegantly. One could hardly tell the difference but if you looked closely enough, there were thin layers of dust on the surfaces.
“Qagir, are you almost done?” A strong warrior voice called from the hall. Krimm checked it, seeing it was an armory, full of elvish gear and weapons. Orange rust and brown flakes littered on all the equipment. No one was there.
“Yes, yes. Just… come back for me and the little ones. I want my fighter to come back to me. Not a hero in a coffin.” Soft and worrisome, a lady spoke near Krimm. She turned and saw nothing of the woman. “Your charm is here. May Savelita be with you. ”
“Thank you. I promise that I will return. And I’ll show those Iozians what we’re made of.” The warrior lingered on his words, as if he gave a loving look to his wife. His voice disappeared, but Krimm and Vega could hear the children cheer for their father. Everything here was abandoned. No life. Not even the specks of death. Hollow. Gone.
All of it, uneven. Unequal. Like a place split in time. The only parts that had any unity, any life existing, was the wilderness outside, unchanged.
The Assassin squeezed her fist in an iron hard ball. This place reminded her of a person she used to be. Powerless. Unseen. Unknown. Uncared. No longer loved.
The scarecrow saw this, saw this pain she was going through. Lashing out, laughing at cruelty, and doleing it down on anyone she could hurt. Is this the person she’d become, if she listened to the Voice? If she gave up on herself and her friends?
For a moment, not an instant longer, the scarecrow reached out for her hand. To hold. To care. To love.
But she pulled back. She didn’t know why. Maybe all those harsh and toxic insults finally got to her. Or maybe she understood Krimm couldn’t be fixed by mere kind gestures. Whatever made Krimm this way, it had to be dealt with. Face to face. Heart to heart. Spirit to spirit.
“Krimm, this place matters to you. I know it, I sense it.” Vega put her hand on her chest, trying to signal that she carries an emotional organ, a weight that holds Krimm. “This place is significant. Not only to ya, but to Kaliber. To me. And if-”
“Not everything has to be about you… you damn fool.” Krimm shouted, to silence any idea, any effort to join forces. Vega backed up slightly, feeling more hurt than before. Not even being ripped apart hurts. But this, being pushed away, rejected, that burned terribly in Vega’s heart.
That made her angry.
“Well excuuuuse me princess! I’m sorry if I’m acting a little selfish, I’ve only been trapped here for what, who knows how long!” Forcibly turning Krimm around, she wasn’t letting her hurt her and get away with it. The Assassin want to move but Vega held onto her pigtails and forced her to stay. “Krimm, the only way we’re getting out of here is we work-work together. That’s how we got out of the last-last one.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Krimm looked away from Vega’s face, not trying to look into her eyes. Something about them, the energy and power they carried. That they were more than attached to a fool, but that there was genuine pain in them.
“Listen! Stop trying to-to force me to be some enemy ya can just kill!” Vega let go, allowing Krimm a chance to respond. She knew that she might strike at her, or just cut her in half again. But she wasn’t going to be insulted or hurt anymore. She would fight back with words or with metal, and Krimm could see that.
Krimm briefly thought on how to retaliate. She wished to escape, but not to confront a world that she was in. A world that existed no longer. A world that she didn’t belong to.
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“I’m an Assassin. This is who I am.” She placed her fingers on her scar, resting one on her exposed teeth. She hated the scar. She hated all that it made her. A repulsive person, a Ghost of dead people.
“You’re not. Ya are a living being. Stop trying to think that walking away and making me into some object will-will make anything easier for you.” Vega grabbed Krimm’s hand and pointed to all of her own wounds.
Her arms that were once wood now replaced with steel, the stitches on her face and body. The scarecrow survived and so had the elf. Krimm’s eyebrows bent and her mouth went to an angry frown.
“And stop-stop thinking you’re the only one going through something!”
“Why you-”
“Shut up!” The scarecrow slapped the Assassin.
Now you might expect this to be a comedic moment where all go ha ha, but no. Sadly not. Krimm’s ears rang and as she recovered, she saw Vega's face. Though she was not a shapeshifter like herself, she saw herself. Like staring into a mirror. A person, a face that matched her own. And that face was stronger than her’s.
“I have given you kindness even when you’ve stabbed and broken me apart. I have tried listening to you, talking to you, and being patient. Remember what you said, that I’m the first one that asked ya your name?”
Kaliber's eyes widened and her hand unclenched. She stared down for a moment, in a moment of emotion. A moment of realization. That Vega was right. So very precise and right. That this very scarecrow was more generous of heart than anyone she had known in a while. Is this why she is important, Krimm thought. That this being made of hay and string, could manifest such truth?
“We both have to realize something here. This path forward, it can’t be-be done alone. If we are to grow as people, we need each other. We are what we aren't alone.”
“...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been like that to you.” Krimm brushed where Vega had slapped her.
Admittedly, it was more of the shock of the slap rather than the pain of it. I mean, being slapped by what is essentially a glove with a little metal inside doesn’t pack much punch.
Though she brushed it nonetheless. Krimm felt that had snapped a part out of her, whatever that part was. Perhaps a nihilism, maybe a lack of care. Krimm saw Vega’s face flare up in worry and she suddenly pulled a bandage from her chest.
“Ya alright? Sorry-sorry, here.” She placed the bandage on her cheek.
“Haha! What are you doing?” Krimm backed away, surprised by Vega’s act. It was very sweet, no doubt, but Krimm felt she didn’t deserve it. “After all that I have done, wha- I don’t get you.”
“Well, I don’t like hurting people. I like helping them.” Vega rubbed the back of her head, which made Krimm reflect again. Vega too was young and learning. She must be smarter than what she was given credit for, but Vega has a strong moral code in a way.
She wondered if things had gone better, perhaps she might have become like her instead of an Assassin. Could she still, Krimm thought.
“I’m sorry-sorry too. I was kind of… over dramatic? Melodramatic? Really-really-really emotional there? I don’t know… I just got really angry.”
“I get it. Being chopped in half doesn’t put anyone in a good mood. Or having to deal with me.”
“Well… it’s easier now.”
“Ha, never thought I’d hear that. But… I hear you. If Ani Arma thinks you’re important, and this Kaliber is important, then all of this ties us together. We are together.” Krimm looked at all around them. This memory of a place out of time. Of voices long past. Here, Vega was with her.
“Now-now more than ever.”
“You matter. Not like a tool.” Krimm turned, only slightly and crossed her arms. She wasn’t going to give up loyalty to Ani Arma. But she had a lot to think about after they got out of here.
“Thank ya. That means a lot. Sister.” Bumping her hip into Krimm’s, Vega got back into her playful spirit once again. The pain ceased and her focus returned.
“Sister? Why sister, we’re not even both constructs.” Krimm questioned, lowering one eye in confusion.
“Well, we’re similar in that we’re tied to this memory. We both are tied to Ani Arma. And we’re both celestial, in some capacity. Ya and me Krimm, are a lot stronger than we real-realize.” Vega shrugged, smiling and giggling. Krimm began to walk towards the other structures in the grove before lifting two fingers.
“Sure. But here’s two things. You have friends. And you’re a good person.” Krimm walked away as Vega looked down, hoping that Krimm could make the choice Skaldi did. To improve on himself while still engaging with others. “One more thing, you’re actually not a bad musician.”
“One more thing… we’re both Ghosts.”
The rest of the houses were the same as the first one they checked. Layers of dust and decay, voices of elfs living their lives as mundane as normal. Like the sounds of eating food, children playing, or people snoring in their beds. Outside of their homes, spears and shields lay on the ground, also abandoned. This day was important. The day of a battle.
At the far end of the grove, the two discovered a mass grave of sorts. Hundreds of weapons on the grass and flowers, thousands of arrows embedded in the hills ahead. Crouching down beside one arrow, Krimm could hear the faint but dying breathing of a man. She recognized this place clearly.
“We can stop-stop if ya need to.”
“No. We keep going.”
Slowly, they scoured all of it. Not a person, not a soul. Not even their bones. Only the hollow wind was the only rhythm there.
Nobody was there, except a faint gray figure, alone on the hill.
“Krimm, do ya see that?” Vega pointed up to it, almost excited there was a living being. They both ran up the figure, getting clearly the closer they came. Only a few yards from it, they stopped. They saw a statue, not one to glory a hero or ruler. In contrast, the statue was remarkably human, full of wrinkles and scars.
The statue was of Kaliber and had a long inscription, one long enough that Vega thought it might answer some of her questions. It read…
“To the one who searches…
I wish only that I could have met you. But now that you have arrived, I must tell you this. There is a secret, one that may save you, and maybe those you love.
Of instructions to craft a Soul Gem. Only a construct can make it. I have made sure of that.
But only one construct can play it.
There is so much I wish to tell you, but I can no longer. Not here.
I am Kaliber. But I am not your creator.
You are learning, and will face much struggle. But you are not a failure.
I know, you might miss Kaliber, might miss this sense of normality. Of being whole.
And you are hoping that I can somehow fix it. But I can’t.
I am not the person I wished to be. And I am not the person people needed me to be.
Not what Ena needed me to be.
You already know what to do. All you need to do is to realize it.
You are art given life. A death given power.
Do good.
Get to the next tower. The other construct is waiting for you there.
Remember Ena’s words.
Ani Arma must die.”