THE FORSAKEN LAND OF GENèSE | LOST KINGDOM | TOWER | BASEMENT

  600

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  ? Then what if I say it will kill you? ?

  Her voice wrapped around his neck like a silk scarf carved from ivory.

  Entranced, Solvanel watched, forgetting the trifling matters of his curse as ten flawless digits reached for the accessory at her temple. Red thorns dimmed into dormancy as they separated from their adornee.

  Gently, she lifted the crown—and the illusion fell away—It was a thorough decay over the course of an instant.

  Moisture went as it came—scars upon a statuette visage that turned yellow-and-green-infested with squirming filth. From vibrant bronze, her skin approached the hue of the sands up above. Flowing black hair retreated from its resting place upon her buttocks; the little not lost outright was a mess not unlike the dry bushes of the scorch.

  Steam came off of her skin—owed to the intense loss of body heat in the chamber.

  When it cleared, revealing a pair of vacant grey eyes, emptied of all warmth. A hollow antithesis of beauty to his own.

  “Who are you?”

  The crown of thorns became red mist between her fingers.

  It vanished—then reappeared at the same place around her head. Her accessory pulsed thrice and tightened, the rivers of blood running deeper than before.

  She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second. ? Nothing you can understand. I suppose you could say I’ve been somewhat of a prisoner for many years. ?

  Opening them, they hadn’t changed back from that lifeless grey.

  ? Locked away from all the rest for deeds long forgotten to all except my own. Still, you’ve reminded me what it was like to be out and about, so let me give my final warning. ?

  Solvanel lowered his gaze.

  ? I may exchange words with you if yours are sufficiently amusing and your antics if they do no harm. But I am she of the beginning—the genesis sin of wrath, so there is one thing I won’t tolerate. That is, rebellion. ?

  ? To me, there is nothing more unsightly than a disobedient child. ?

  The being cleared her throat. ? Petit, petit! ?

  The crook fell out of his mouth as his teeth pulled apart. “Oui, ma mère.”

  What?!

  ? Regarde-moi dans les yeux. ?

  “Oui, ma mère.”

  Solvanel lifted his head.

  A sheet of ice fell squarely upon him as he looked into her eyes. Aside from the hatred for what she’d done to him, the aversion of his gaze was no mere habit. Spawned from years of living in fear of his curse, it was instinct akin to breath.

  ? You will answer my questions promptly. ?

  An instinct akin to breath.

  It was the last thing he wanted to do, yet he hadn’t even the chance to not want to do it.

  “Oui, ma mère.”

  ? Good boy, ? she confirmed. ? Now, let us start again from the beginning. What is the number of the year? ?

  "Six-hundred."

  ? Six-hundreds… moins… ah. ?

  ? I ask again. Who are you? And what is your position in the present era? ?

  “ My name is Solvanel,” he recited. “The Light that Came From The Heavens. I am the shepherd to the flock of humanity, born as a guide to lead the way. I was born in a village the inhabitants call Dunreach, though it does not yet have a name. My grandfather was the chief of Dunreach, and my grandmother, the Lightbringer. A title given to the one meant to guide the way—and now, my own.”

  ? And this is the truth of your existence? ?

  “I-” The old man’s tongue failed to break free. “Oui, ma mère.”

  ? So you are a nothing child from a nothing village. Is ‘Dunreach’ the only human settlement of present times? What is it like? ?

  “Small. Very small. Our number has never surpassed the second hundred. Dunreach, Derelitch, and Tarshish—I knew only the three before my departure. I know now there are at least seven more, including a city ruled by a queen.”

  ? A queen, huh? ? She clicked her tongue. ? How infuriating. Is this the truth of your knowledge? ?

  “Oui, ma mère.”

  ? This queen you speak of. Have you come in contact with her? ?

  “Never.”

  A wave washed over him and surged into his person. Describable only as a sudden physical euphoria. The wounds inflicted by the mercenaries and the demoness dulled into nothingness, leaving a pleasant haze inside his mind.

  ? Ah-ah-ah. With each lie, I will sever an aspect of your perception. Following your sense of touch will be your taste and smell. Then your sight. Then your hearing. Then, finally, your breath. At which point, you will be unable to interact with this world until the day you fail to realise you have ceased. ?

  “Oui… ma mère. Je suis désolé…”

  ? Well said, my child. You are not forgiven, ? responded the being. ? My next question. Did you chop down the tree that birthed this piece of wood? ?

  “No.”

  ? Then who did? And more importantly, how did they manage to find it? ?

  “I don’t know…” He answered honestly.

  “And more importantly…” the old man, Solvanel, added. “I don’t fucking know!"

  ? Hm… the embers you’ve extinguished are wreaking havoc inside your soul. Even if I do decide to let you free, I shall take those eyes when we are done. I was the first to succumb to them; they are as much my claim as any other. ?

  “Oui… ma mère.”

  ? The wood—if you don’t know its origins, then where did you find it? ?

  “We found it in a cavern underneath a forest. Forgotten alongside one of the Steles of Prophecy. There is no merit to the claim, but my grandmother must have stumbled upon them both before me: Choose with wisdom. Lead with patience. That was the message left alongside the crook. One she would have known only I can see.”

  [Choose with wisdom. Lead with patience.]

  The being frowned, dismissing the thought immediately.

  ? Do you believe she could have been the one to cut down our tree? ?

  “My grandmother was a liar.” Cooperating briefly with the effects of her voice.

  “I wouldn’t believe her as far as I never had the chance to throw her, but I know her intentions were pure. She led me on this journey and left the crook for me to discover. If either holds any significance to my destiny, I believe she would have led me to the latter.”

  “…also,” he added after a moment. “She was good-for-nothing except for worship and risking her life. My grandfather would never let her out of his sight long enough for her to pick up an axe.”

  A faint smile tugged at the demoness’s rosy lips.

  One filled with distant nostalgia. Her grey eyes flickered brown again, given life by the years of pain and suffering that came with the feeling. ? These grandparents of yours… are they still alive? ?

  “No. In her final days, my grandmother conducted a ritual to enhance her flesh, then committed suicide in my grandfather’s arms. Her body was rationed afterwards—one household given every piece—except for the box containing her fingers, which were enhanced separately and left to the family.

  And my grandfather… he refused to fill his stomach on my grandmother’s suffering. So he became the only casualty of that year’s famine.”

  ? I see, ? she said darkly. ? How noble of him. ?

  “I know. Everyone says that. He was a noble man. The greatest there ever was.”

  ? And you? ?

  “ Pardon?”

  ? What kind of man are you? ?

  “I already answered that question. I’m the light that fell from the heavens.”

  ? I’m not talking about that. ?

  Just like that, he could no longer taste the iron of blood and the sourness of bile in his mouth. Without feeling or taste, no longer the hunger and thirst ravaging his stomach and throat. It was one step closer to bliss. One step going backwards from the certainty of his own existence.

  Would he have the ability to feel the single instrument cacophony inside his chest, the hairs upon his neck would have gone up, reaching for the Heavens, still.

  Instead, they all lay perfectly flat.

  ? She was your own grandmother after all; even now, you think of her fondly. I doubt you had a taste for human flesh, so why did you partake of the old woman’s sacrifice when this ‘greatest man’ stood against it? ?

  “Because I had to.”

  ? You had to? That’s what you told yourself when you echoed your brother’s lie about stealing bread from the baker’s window. ?

  “Pardon?”

  ? When you look into someone’s soul, you leave your own soul open as well. Tell me about the morning you saw a man strike the village prostitute. And then you chose not to tell one of your grandfather’s dogs that she’d broken some of his arrows as revenge. The one who died during that same hunt. ?

  “How do you-”

  His shoulders jerked against the invisible force holding him down, the tendons in his neck straining as though trying to rise through molasses.

  ? The night you murdered your assailant? ?

  “Shut up!”

  The shout ripped through his throat—and the force binding him tightened.

  His ribs cinched inward as if gripped by invisible hands, and his breath was crushed into a thin, helpless wheeze. Solvanel lurched forward instinctively, but the power snapped him back into place like a nailed shadow.

  He choked and coughed up blood as his bones cracked in various places.

  ? You had to lie, or else he’d be mad at you. You had to keep your mouth shut because she was nice to you. You had to kill that woman because your destiny is far greater than anything she or her child could ever be. You had to do all these things. And you have to steal my keepsake so you can save the world, don’t you? ?

  Solvanel’s whole body convulsed against the restraint—muscles tearing themselves raw in a desperate, furious thrash.

  He roared, a sound ripped from the deepest part of him, primal and broken and utterly defiant. The force holding him trembled for the first time, flickering with strain, as though his will alone had momentarily disrupted whatever ancient law she’d bound him with.

  Blood spilt from his lips again.

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  The being’s eyes widened—not in fear, but in a startled, almost childlike amusement.

  She’d never seen a human fight this hard. An animal gnawing off its own leg to escape a trap.

  Then her expression softened… into something far colder.

  All this, because he did not want to hear the truth.

  The weight upon him tripled.

  Boom!

  “Yes! Yes! I had to!”

  Sunken into a crater, he coughed—blinded, shouting, breathless—at the top of his lungs—blood spraying out of his missing appendages, pooling in the pit, righting the colour of his robe. “Please… I have to!”

  ? No, ? she responded, severing his sight. ? You don’t. ?

  Boom!

  ? You had to eat your grandmother’s flesh in order to survive, but you didn’t have to. Is your grandfather not proof enough? A man who knew he had a choice, even when the world demanded otherwise. ?

  She tilted her head, her crown of thorns glinting as though amused by its own cruelty

  ? And you know what I think, Solvanel? ?

  Her fingers drifted lazily through the air, weaving invisible shapes, mocking the way his grandmother once traced blessings over starving children.

  ? Let me throw my hand into the family motif. ?

  Her voice softened into a whisper that felt like a red-hot knife sliding under the ribs.

  ? The worst thing on earth is not the man who has been driven into a corner… ?

  She stepped closer, leaning so he could see both of her faces—the beautiful lie, and the rotted truth—flickering over each other like competing realities.

  ? It is the man who thinks he’s been left without a choice. ?