Appearances: Arzen Lynos, Lucien Demeri
Souls are wont to drift towards the luminescent gates that stands between them and their fate. However, on this day, the secretary chanced to glance at a new, weary soul. A soul whose presence defied the nature of life and death, looking in horror at the others waiting in line.
A sharp pain in my chest awoke me from my slumber. My eyes opened, and I was greeted with a blank white landscape. Iridescent clouds line the horizon, and in the distance, a large white tree could be seen on top of a tall hill, with the only way to reach it is climbing up a long marble staircase that lined the hills. There was no sun, but there was warmth in the light that pervaded the area.
I should start walking over there, I suppose.
Though the steps were small, the staircase was long. I composed myself and started walking up the hill. There were shadowy figures that would sometimes appear on the staircase, but I paid them no mind and continued up. Did time have any sort of meaning here? I wasn’t sure, but I continued up anyways, for time felt like it’s at a standstill in a place like this.
I’ve never seen a place like this before. Not even in the storybooks.
As I’m walking, I looked down at myself. A casual shirt, pants, and shoes? I don’t believe I was wearing this before I woke up… The pain in my chest that forced me up had subsided. What was that? I don’t think I got hurt anywhere on me…
These thoughts were fleeting, second only to the thought of reaching the top of the hill. After some time, the shadowy figures started to grow in number, with some walking in a hurry and some taking their time. I moved past the shadows, taking care to not bump into them. They formed a loose depiction of a line, as if they were waiting on something. Against my natural judgement to wait in said abstract line, I continued past the figures to see what was holding them up.
The tree was only barely closer from where I originally started, but I arrived at what looked to be a checkpoint of sorts. The shadowy figures were lined up behind a set of closed golden gates, with a lone building on the side. The gates seemed to have been closed for quite a while, as evidenced by the amount of figures waiting behind it. Are these shadows…people? I surveyed the area, going up to various shadows to peer any information from them. Though it was faint, I could hear voices emanating from the shadowy figures.
“Mama, where’s Papa?"
"D-don’t worry dear, we’ll meet Papa soon. You have to be patient.”
“How could this be? That Luxori knight just wiped out our knights at the market square!"
"How could this happen?! Is there someone truly so powerful?"
"Surely he is no match for the King!”
“Where’s my son?! He’s so young, he still hasn’t seen the world! Where is he?! I just want to see him again…”
And, slowly, the realization finally hit me.
N-no! I refuse to believe it! I ran over to a group of four shadows. Did I not save this family?! I quickly turned to face another group of three. O-or this one?! I reached out my hand to touch them, but the shadows did not notice, and my hand phased through them.
Was I not good enough?! Am I not strong enough to protect them?! W-what about Saria? Surely she got out just fine. O-or Kallie? Did she live? Fuck fuck fuck! I saved them, didn’t I? Isn’t that why I don’t see them here?
They’ll pay! They’ll all pay! I’ll kill those Luxori bastards! I’ll avenge you! I’ll kill them a—
“You seem lost, friend.”
In the distance, a figure emerged from the sea of shadows, approaching me with a relaxed cadence. Their voice was calm and soothing, and in an instant my nerves and senses ceased to shake, and I was allowed to see the individual’s appearance clearly. It’s a fair-skinned human, wearing brown, black, and golden silk garments similar to a businessman’s or a merchant’s clothing. His long, disheveled blonde hair and his owl-rimmed glasses hid the glint from his azure eyes, but his expression was that of intrigue and curiosity.
“W-who are you?!” I yelled, snapping out of my stupor and readying a defensive stance. The man chuckled and held out his hand.
“There’s no need for hostilities, my friend. I only wish to assess your situation. Come with me, I can try to explain all,” he reassured, motioning to the lone building near the golden gates.
“And why should I follow you?” I glared at him, trying to read his intent. But my senses must have failed me; I couldn’t read this man’s intent as anything but benevolent.
“Well, if you want to attack me, feel free. But know that you cannot do anything to me while you’re in a state of disarray, both mentally and physically,” he retorted. The man started walking to the building. I guess it couldn’t hurt. I dropped my guard and reluctantly followed him inside.
Inside the building was a small office, with papers and books sprawled out along the wooden floor. There were two windows, one facing the line of shadowy figures outside, and one large window at the back of the room, facing the large tree in the distance, which served to let natural light into the room. I glanced at the bookshelves that line the walls of the room. In it were various names lining the book spines.
Are…these names of people? I turned my attention towards the middle of the room. There, a grand wooden desk stood, with a stack of books on one side, and a small ink bottle and pen on the other side. The man sat down, turning to face me on his leather chair.
“You may call me Lucien Demeri, friend,” the man said with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind the mess I’ve made in here, I’ve not had a guest in quite a while.”
“That’s nice and all, but it doesn’t explain why you invited me in the first place,” I responded, crossing my arms. “Doesn’t make sense to me why you would single me out from the many groups of people in line.”
“Well, first off, how can I address you, friend?”
“Arzen. I’m Arzen Lynos.”
“Ah, Arzen. Well, as you surmised earlier, you stand in the realm between the living and the passed. If you follow the creation mythos, then you may recognize this place as the Stairs of Wanderlust,” Lucien explained.
“So…I’m dead,” I muttered. The sharp pain in my chest flashed yet again, the memory of being stabbed by the imposing Luxori knight still fresh in my mind. I grimaced as I tried to hold in the pain.
“That you are. But I see that the pain of death yet lingers in your soul.”
“What’s it to you? Why do you care?” The pain had finally subsided.
Lucien turned toward the window facing the line of shadows. “Those are the souls of people waiting to be let into the Root of Life, where their essence is then combined with others to make a brand new soul. That soul is brought to life on Luciradis, where they live out a new life yet again.”
“But the line isn’t moving…?” I observed, looking from the front of the line to the back, where it disappeared into the endless expanse. Lucien’s expression turned into one of worry.
“That’s right, friend. I know not of the cause, but I know that it happened a decade or two ago. Souls were not being combined and reborn, as the natural cycle had dictated. Therefore, I had no choice but to close the gates in response.”
Lucien sighed, “But I digress. This phenomenon probably has nothing to do with you.” I suppose that’s why this office is so messy. He must have been busy dealing with whatever that is.
“With that though, you can understand my surprise when yet another anomaly had entered this realm,” Lucien said, pointing to me. “Souls wallow in their regrets, sure, but they never interact with other souls, much less feel their own pain with clarity. Luciradis has not seen a case of vengeful spirits, but you might be close contender to being one.”
“What does that mean, then?”
“It means one thing. There’s a high chance of your essence being dense enough to undergo reincarnation. Though you may not retain your sense of self, your soul is engraved with your past life and your past personality.” Lucien clapped his hands together in confidence. “But it is up to the next version of you to do what they want to do.”
I suppose it is nice reassurance to know that some part of me retains itself even after death and rebirth.
“However…” Lucien’s expression turned grim. “Even if the natural cycle was unimpeded, you would not be able to enter into the Root of Life to even be reincarnated.” He glanced at the large clock near the entrance of the room. “It took one cursory examination of you to know that there is something pulling you back into the realm of the living. Something beyond my control that is pulling your soul from the jaws of death.”
I stared at him, wide-eyed in shock. “W-what? Doesn’t that mean I’m immortal?” I slammed my hands on his desk. “But aren’t you the Creator? Can you not do something about that?”
Lucien’s gaze turned towards me, and he smirked. “I am but the secretary. What ever gave you the idea that I was the Creator?” He stood up and took off his glasses, walking towards the entrance of the room. So he’s just an assistant to the Creator?
“Our time is short, I’m afraid. And it seems that you are still needed,” Lucien concluded, opening the door. A blindingly white light poured into the room as the door became more ajar, and the landscape I saw earlier was not visible any longer. “Once you step outside this building, you will be brought back to the realm of the living,” Lucien continued, holding the door open for me with a smile.
“And if I stay?”
Lucien grinned. “It won’t matter anyways, you’d just lose consciousness and wake up in the real world. I’m just giving you a nice and clean way to leave this realm.”
I sighed and looked out the large window in the back overseeing the large tree. What will I do once I wake up? When will I wake up? I couldn’t shake the thought of leaving the poor souls behind. The souls I had condemned to death once I had fallen.
“Just some advice,” Lucien interjected as I turned back to face him. “I know you have mixed feelings about the situation that brought you here from life. Remember those feelings well, Arzen. It’ll serve as your strength as you traverse the realm of the living once more.” Feelings of anger overwhelmed me, and in an instant I rushed to Lucien and shoved him back into the wall.
“What more can I do though? I lost everything! I failed my duties as a knight of the Stalwryn Kingdom! Tell me!” I exclaimed, grabbing his shirt. “What more…can someone like me do?”
Lucien looked away from me. Though I couldn’t see his eyes, he clearly had an expression of sorrow.
“That is a question that you must answer for yourself. I cannot give you that answer.”
Reluctantly, I slowly let go of his shirt in defeat and took a step back. I turned to face the white expanse past the door, and thoughts rushed into my mind like a roaring river. Days of peace with Saria. Training with the knights, the King watching from afar. Playing with my schoolmates in Lyntoa, getting into mischievous hijinks, and subsequently into trouble with the elders. The storybook that Amara gifted to me on my birthday that detailed the world and its beautiful vistas. The promise Amara made to me that I would be able to see it all. Why was it all taken from me?
“It seems like you know what to do.”
I started walking into the light, my surroundings disappearing before me. I looked back, and the office and the man were now gone. I closed my eyes and kept walking forward.
“Of course.”
Date: XX/XX/5283 ASC
It’s hard to breathe. Something heavy was on top of me. In darkness, I blindingly started pushing against what seems like slabs of stone off of me. With all my strength and energy, I shoved the heaviest slabs off of my chest, and finally I was able to breathe in the cold, stale air.
It was night, the stars and moon hiding behind the clouds. I looked at my surroundings. It’s the lobby of the throne, destroyed in the flames of war. There were no signs of life; it’s clearly abandoned for some time, though for how long was beyond me. I looked down at my body. A large scar was seen across my chest, where the heart is. The plates of armor that covered my chest have holes and punctures, but otherwise my body seemed to have healed itself.
Right. I was killed. I stood up to take off the broken armor. I tested my powers by conjuring a sword and shield of obsidian. Good, this still works. I dissolved the sword and shield and slowly walked outside, under the veil of night and into the embrace of cool breeze.
I can scarce remember what happened in that vision. That can’t be a dream, can it? Before me were just ruins of a grand kingdom. It could no longer be called Stalwryn. Atop the balcony, I gazed at the destroyed houses, the razed markets, the mangled bodies, and I felt a strange sense of heaviness. I couldn’t protect them. Then, voices started piling one after another.
You failed. You couldn’t save us. Kill them! Those Luxori bastards should just fucking die! They don’t deserve to live! Kill them! Kill them all!
“Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I screamed. But still, the voices would not die down. For those feelings were the same as mine. The dead wanted their retribution, as did I.
“So you won’t stop following me, huh?” I started saying, hoping the dead could hear. The voices went silent, as if it were waiting for my next sentence.
“Then witness the Paragon’s anger and rage, for retribution will be doled out to those whom have taken everything from me. My friends. My home. My freedom. I will take it all back.”