Ocular to the Dying Sun

A Hand that Held; part 1

Crossing over the fields of the forest originally felt like a suicide mission to Elder Lymantera, in the hopes her loyal soul comes soothed and an example to her fellow Kabay who lived with the dignity of never throwing their arms in the face of death for their cause. However, she felt the pain of regret as her eyes blurred from being thrown to the ground after the blast radius of the Prime Magician’s magic rocked the winds off any living creature around.

Broken tree logs and shattered branches, dead animal bodies mixed with Dire-eaters left and right, the iron smell of blood and charcoal bogged Elder Lymantera who covered the basket she carried. There, inside, lay the sleeping visage of the babe, her eyes softly closed as her tiny hands gripped the handkerchief of her mother. Dust slightly entered the edges of her comfortable-looking bed fixed with soft blankets, but the old woman managed to protect her face and other parts just in case.

In exchange for her efforts to protect the child, she had herself injured, a slight sprain from trying not to fall over the basket but to keep herself from falling over the basket. This brings a whole level of doubt in her heart when she resolved to “kill” the child but saw that there was no merit in doing.

Could her comrades not have thought of taking the child to grow as a Prime Magician with their ideals as Kabay? They are the rightful proprietors and beneficial sacrifice to their kingdom, if they could not reach means of a better life for their people by focusing on those with core contributions such as themselves in the city proper, who else would value their lives?

There was no doubt the child would be an ideal Kabay, and the chances of her growing into a strong magician are possible as she is the direct child of the current Prime Magician. She doesn’t believe the current Prime Magician isn’t blood-related to the previous Saturni leader; in fact, she’s certain she is an illegitimate child born from a desire of the previous Saturni. Or, should she say, one paid to be a part of the Saturni.

The current Prime Magician and her predecessors are all corrupt with eyes only seeing their seats as powers that should be owned by neither. That was wrong because the rightful owners of this power should be the people of their city, of only their city. Kabay believes in the ideology of their kingdom’s ancestors and rightful families alone, nothing else.

The reason why they believe the Prime Magician’s successor must not be born, blood relation or otherwise, thus the death of the child. This is the right thing to do. If they want the Prime Magician, to control this title, they must sacrifice a life to pull the hood away from this woman’s eyes. Eyes that could visibly see the world as fair when it is not, and Elder Lymantera understands that cause.

Still, that cause feels painful, a sacrifice so painful that she feels elated by the empathy towards death with a cause. Or, she should be, but all she felt now is pity and fear. For her life. For the life of the young babe.

Wobbling as she stood up, her one leg twitched at the sting of pain but it was strong enough for her to be able to stand up and make sure she was able to balance the basket the young babe lay inside. Heaving the basket to her waist, she looked around and saw a few broken branches, pull a few easy ones to move then get a good long one that could work as her support cane.

From there, she checked one more time if the baby in the basket remained peaceful, and she does with a bit of a frown. Taking a deep breath, Elder Lymantera closes her eyes at the turmoil of her heart. The conscience. Moral. Principle. Purpose. Humanity.

As this long argument continued inside her, she kept remembering the seconds before the large explosion from behind her happened. Large ominous legs crawled in the thin air above her as Dire-eaters blocked the direction of where she was going to run. Aching legs ran for safety just so she could avoid the creature’s crashing bodies and approaching presence.

The memory made her walk faster with her arms both stressing the effort to cling to the basket while holding on to the branch for dear support. Such is her life to struggle in the forest that should have been her grave but life had something else for her. There is a future she knew should be blessed and written by their own hands, she becomes unsure and certain. All for the fact that she chose to die for her belief but end up becoming a coward all for the simple reason that she did not want to die or kill anyone.

Her determination became dust in fear of the reality that death may come for us in the end, but it doesn’t mean the process before dying would not be painful, both physical and mental. Assurance will never be there with her to achieve since the time she stepped into the forest meant nothing else but to be in the hands of fate. Her plan to kill the child, or be killed trying was not meant to be, even if she did succeed to die after killing the baby, nothing is certain.

Looking at the night sky, as she saw the outline of the Kneada from afar, her mind reeled at the absurdity she has put herself into. There was the looming guillotine above her head, waiting to be set on her life, but she’s managed to live thus far. If she could, she would end her misery by leaving the child in the forest. Was that not her aim?

Before she could stop herself, a movement from the basket made her flinch as she heard the babe squirm and then go back to sleeping as if the rest of the world was not there to disturb her at any moment. Relief is a luxury no one could give her if she fails to survive or at least escape the forest boundaries, more so the idea that she would be forced to live in the wild with a growing baby with her old hands. Though she is confident she could give her a good life away from the politics her mother is thrown in, her life in the lap of her family’s leisure would have to be erased in place of this new one.

To be regretful at a decision she thought was good from the point of view of her beliefs is becoming a pain she could only pray to ease in the coming minutes as she felt another alarming gush of wind. Avoiding any kind of location from the radius of the battle would be possible and impossible at the same time. She also knew she did the Prime Magician a favor by rescuing her baby in this fiasco built to solve all their problems in the current economy.

And that, itself, is something she believed to still be true despite being thrown into this trough of chaos, if only it didn’t require an innocent’s death. Blearing screeches veer Elder Lymantera in the opposite direction, entering another cluster of fallen trees. This time, it’s in an area where there are several hills with clumps of rocks, forming small caves and enough space and crevice to enter. A possible shelter for another magical blast.

The ends of her toes tingled from the tension and sheer dread for the coming incursion of destruction when she sensed the shadow of a large creature appear. This shadow could not be scaled by simply looking up in the sky to confirm how near or far it is, nor a good way to watch in awe of what perceived majesty it could bring. She knew it is a monstrous size because of the sound of its several legs clicking and scales singing through the winds it breezed through.

The Dire-eater Mother has majesty in both size and presence that only a Slitark Shard eater could demonstrate in the vast skies that trap them in between. Never has she seen one up close but had seen ones through the lens of several alchemic shards that could record visual and auditory scenarios.

Her eyes could not comprehend whether she should hate or love them, but there is majesty in how they fly through the skies and feed off simple rocks that release from Slitark. These stray shards from the Ocular should be enough for these creatures, but they tend to be attracted to the supplies the kingdom store, that’s why they remain their number one enemy when it comes to the potential of the shards.

Eventually, she among others, see the creature for its beauty from afar but never this close. Those silver scales glistening against the glum light of the night Slitark emits, they cover the Dire-eater’s body in a luminescent flow that could attract even a Veiled-moth*. The fluffy creature is one meter in size with a wingspan that can exceed its body but are delicate and furry. They feed on luminescent plants and fungi, and the same glow can be seen from these entities.

Shocking, blaring, horns from the cutter of the Dire-eater Mother shake the trees and ground as Elder Lymantera pushes her limit and deftly finds an opening in the rocky protrusions. These almost makeshift hills, covered by mossy grass and outgrowing tree roots all over, serve as a shelter for the rain for animals who are looking for one.

The same could be said of Elder Lymantera’s goal, although the space inside the hollow-like cave from under the rock and root overgrowth, the only ones who could fit there is the basket and half her body. Yet what greeted her was the face of two children. Both were completely shaken and bruised, their bodies have shrunken to the corner and moved away from the basket she was pushing inward.

Her face crumpled, almost edging with tears as she saw them, and her mind crumbled in turmoil. What more can there be wrong in this forest, at this moment? A surge of endless energy swept through the air, and she realized no time could be wasted. Her body arched over the entrance of the small space to cover them, almost half of her body peeking out, barely able to keep her balance from her one injured leg. Shielding them from the chaos outside was the only thing she could do and pray for her safety as best she could.

The incoming pain was not as hard to endure, rather the sounds of flesh and bone tearing from an unknown source could be heard, and there comes the horror of all, the smell and feel of wet liquid pouring from outside onto her back. Elder Lymantera is not a woman that grew surrounded by violence of war or the like, she’s seen people fight with their wands and swords, but never carnage.

The shuddering warmth of blood that she stopped from letting in through the small space filled with pure souls, she could not bare to move away. Let them witness the disgust and grotesque outside. The feeling of the world swirling in the gunk of the dead did not dissipate until one of the children said, “the loud sound is gone now.”

He was a young boy with a face dirtied by dust and sweat, or perhaps a bit of blood that she could only guess came from somewhere. The darkness hid the details of the children’s features, but she could see their clothes and hair are a mess. One of them even looks like they were injured and unresponsive with their wide eyes only looking at her.

“Haaah,” Elder Lymantera sighed, her lips trembled as she saw the dark dripping color of blood she tried to dismiss in her peripheral. Watching the babe in the basket be dirt free keeps her from becoming shaking and sinking into deep immovable hopelessness. She keeps her cool and brushes off the mess left on her head and shoulders, leaving her back without touching the icky innards.

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