Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths

Chapter 8 Who Was I

        Masua said her farewells to the capital city, Silondras. She said goodbye to her brothers, a thing harder to do than she would realize it was. It seemed only a moment since they had been there, together as a family before they had departed. Though two weeks would have been more than enough for her, she misses how things were more than ever, seeing them disappear over the horizon. Did they see Silondras as the same home she now does, has to? She always wished to get out into the world and see new things, but these new things seemed meaningless if they weren't there with her. She knows this to be somewhat unfair for her mother. She has been there to comfort her, helping her cope with this so drastic change, the trauma she has endured in the care of these monsters that she knows is still pursuing her. She doubts she would be even this well put together if not for Celia's naturally motherly nature. But she still misses her brother and wishes that soon, they could all settle down for just a moment and be a family again.

      That day may never come, Vermilliiaa told her from the depths of her mind. You have been thrust into something bigger than yourself. Now is no time for being a selfish child.

     They now passed over the tall gates of the outer walls. The gleaming white walls, reflecting the late sun's rays onto the plains below, bathed the massive caravan of wagons, supply trains, chariots, men on foot and horse, and artisan that followed the Queen into the looming terror of trees. She has never seen so many people move at once. An entire army was surrounding them at all times, with even more of those black cladding warriors carrying on black steeds flanking their car. But even without these carrion warriors, over a hundred knights rode with them, hand-selected by Novia and Lupurious themselves. Lupurious even rode in the same carriage as them all the way to the edge of The Forest of Silence. Not in his usually clunky gold plated armor but more manageable clothing with his knight's blade sheathed on his lap. But the unsteady vigilance he portrayed was immense to Massua. He seemed invulnerable as he sat, something she was not used to seeing him like, sitting across from her mother. One might mistake him a beast ready to tear the heads off them both. But they merely engaged in light conversation as the caravan moved on.

     "Has there been word from the other kings and queens of the Empire?" she asked him. "Or perhaps the matron?"

      "From the matron? No," He seemed relatively at ease with that statement. "The other rulers of our Empire have sent the usual greetings. So many seem rather eager to meet you. I can't blame them; it is not every day that a bloodline is cut off so abruptly. And whatever rumor has spear to their halls are surely playing you out to be rather vulnerable, though I'm sure some know better than that."

      "Good," she said. "Strength is the backbone of our nation. It is practically the only thing we respect in our rulers. So James had to do very little to show himself fit to lead."

    "In all honesty, James had no choice but to take the crown," Lupurious said. "Siblings all dead, father gone mad and mother disappearing. The crown was nearly given to him. Of course, any other noble waiting for an opportunity for this would kill for it, but knowing what we know, what we plan to tell them, it would seem instead that the lot of you are cursed men walking this earth.

    "You are not wrong," Celia sighed. "Just pray we live to see our enemies die first and that our last breath will be laughter."

    They went on, but as the day grew long and dreary, Massua found herself drifting into a soundless sleep, mind engulfed by the unconscious mind. And she ceased to be:

     The days of the gods were coming to an end.

    Our ancient roots at the heart of our country, the same sources that connect every man and woman who takes up spear and shield, has so suddenly become a precursor for our very destruction. I didn't believe it when I heard it. How could such a thing occur? But when those pale-faced men returned to her courts, racked with a paranoia beyond what would ever see on battlefields, then she thought it must be true. The mountains are shaking and turning, the seas turned tumultuous, and the land rippled in stress as the laughter and spray of gods ranged above them all. It was as if reality had come to conflict with itself. Not even the heavens are safe from the anarchy this armageddon has brought forth. There seemed not a day that the skies were clear, the air still or the rumbling from distant battles rattled them. I liked the quiet. Despite her reputation, which she so rightfully earned, her home was where she could return and find some moment of peace and clarity before my patron called upon me again. But now, as I sit upon my throne, looking out at the blood-red skies where it seemed even the sun deviates from its nature, I found no peace, I found no deliverance.

      "Sister."

    I looked up, and for a moment, I thought I saw a young handsome-looking man, blond hair and bright blue eyes. But when I blinked even once, he was replaced with a much less impressive man, perhaps four years my junior, walking towards me. Like all from our kingdom, he carried his sword wherever he went. But there was something unfit about how he brought it, like he didn't care for the blade at all. He was never suited to be a warrior. Our mother died in childbirth, which is often a good sign that the resulting child shall be a great fighter. But her brother was no fighter. Cursed with a frail body, yet blessed with a sturdy mind. He would have been cast out of the kingdom if it were not for this. They do not protect the weak, and the weak must fend for themselves or be swallowed by the tides of nature. But she kept him. Not for any reason more than his mind, strategies, and wit. He could make cities bend by drawing that sword or drawing blood. He could make kings bow with his tongue and what he knows. Last she remembers, she sent him to assure the rumors about what had been occurring in heaven. 

      "Tell me what you have learned, brother," she leaned forward in her seat. 

      Guards propped up spears, forcing him to stop where he stood. He glanced at them, but what shook him must have already had its effects. For some reason, she couldn't blame him.

      "The . . . it is true. The mages have peered beyond the veils and saw with their own eyes the catastrophe that surrounds us out there. The gods have begun their war."

     "So I see," she said, leaning back a bit. "Must this be a surprise to us? Gods have waged war, and we were made in their image after all. And our patron, who fully supports our conquest of our neighbor no doubt revels in this grand event."

     "Things are far more grave than that, sister," he stepped forward, holding up the parchments. "The few mages who made it back warns of grave danger. This war may not stay in heaven for long. And if it does, we stand to have our entire world turned to sunder. This war may very well speak of doom fo humanity."

      His words sunk into me like the great fangs of wolves. "What have you from our brothers to the far north or east?"

      "Nothing," he said. "They may very well attempt to shield themselves from what may come. The mages from all over are trying everything. But there is no hope in stepping whatever caused this war in the first place. Some even speak of weapons falling to earth, mortal beings who slay the gods. This is the end times."

     It was hard for one to wrap your brain around the end times, and for what seemed like a long time, those words stunned me a little. Have our patrons led us astray? Do they intend to allow this to be the end of their Empire? "If this truly is the end. Then allow the lat days of Sparta be in service to our patrons,  our protectors."

      My brother's eyes widened further if that was at all possible. She seemed to have stunned him for a change. "Are you certain, sister?"

      "We will die by the hands of our creators," she decided. "It is a death worthy of us, is it not?"

     "But. . . what do you mean to do?"

      "The mages," she said. "We shall take their god-killing weapons and use them ourselves. Ares shall grant us strength for our endeavors. as we use the hands of mortals to shatter the divine. If the sea to be bled dried, and our land turned asunder, it shall be in the glorious flurry of battle as we fall away into-"

   Darkness. That was the last thing I remember: darkness and blood.

Massua shot awake, breath filing her as she nearly sprang to her feet from beneath layers of fur and cloth. She was in a tent now, and the senses all seemed numb as she regained feeling in her body. For a moment, she contemplated if what she had experienced was some lucid dream. But she knew better. She has had lucid dreams before. This seemed far more real, tangible. Like she smelled the smells and heard the same rumble of doom crash upon a life she never lived. Or had she. She felt a migraine sore within her as she sat back down to cope with her frantic thoughts. Ares. Sparta. The end of times. All of that was real. She never heard stories or any history of such events, but she knew. I knew because she was there.

    "What was that, Vermilliaa?" she asked, but alas, no response came from the recesses of her mind. She knew that Vermilliaa was awake; she could feel the slight chill of thoughts separate from her bubbling beneath her subconscious, not fully expressed ideas yet. "Those were your memories, of your life before you died. Will this keep happening? 

    "After a minute of silence, she finally "heard" the drifting voice of the woman that inhabited her mind. "I don't know. The process has never been interrupted like this before. You are the first host I am aware of to halt the effort. Our minds will continue to merge, as we share memories, till we both no longer exist."

     "You mean I won't be me?" Massua asked. "What does that mean? What will happen then?"

      "Something new?" Even she sounded unsure of her own words for once. "I'm not all that keen on this kind of matter, Massua, forgive me. But I am a warrior spirit, between the veils of death and the living. And as I fade into oblivion, All that I am will become a part of you. And you shall cease to be as well. That is all I know."