Like circling crows the next morrow after a great battle, they descended from the heavens. The blinding sun behind them, flashing around these black dots, soon figures of known gods. His brethren. The very last of his kind.
Had they come to judge him? Have they come to critique what he had done? Or would they congratulate him for a job well done? Surely, Time and the rest could see, they could understand how killing all of the Atheians would only make them hypocrites. Not just once but twice.
Soon, they reached the mouth of the cavern, an opening just before the staircase, which extended outwards like a tongue. By then, Ignar could see their expressions, a turbulent blend of emotions. Some, like Truth and Lies, held on to a grin that veiled a deep sorrow of lucidity long lost. They must have known that their existence had become poisoned—a parody of what it once was.
Joy and Suffering had no less complicated of a look, as tears swelled in their eyes, but a smile of pure euphoria dominated the rest. The Sharan of Judgment peered at him, and around as well, there was something unsettling hidden in his eyes, perhaps a realization. And their voice echoed as they said: "Seven here. One absent. Eight over one still stands. Let us not forget this."
Yet, Ignar still hoped that they could find agreement, that this had been the correct thing to do. That no one else needs to die on this day, or any day that is to follow.
Love and Hatred remained somewhat muted; their arms were akimbo as they looked at only Ignar, not giving their attention to the things around them. Their decision had already been made—that much was clear.
Chaos and Order focused their attention wholly on the staircase; they seemed curious above all else. Awe had claimed their eyes, as they looked with great wonder, perhaps revering what Ignar had achieved.
But the expressions of Life and Death, and of course Time, were the most telling. Their eyes were what Ignar had feared the most. But there was still some hope, he looked around, but counted only seven... where were Light and Darkness? Surely they would've looked at all of this, all the things that Ignar had been forced to commit with disgust, with regret akin to what he felt... but they weren't here.
"You failed us," Time said, "Instead of finishing them as you were supposed to, you've let them loose beneath the earth. You should have removed them, you should have made sure that they could never again be a threat to us…"
Ignar's brows furrowed involuntarily, "Failed?" he scoffed, "What are they to do? How are they to even survive beneath the earth? With what food or water? Their numbers, lower than ever, their people scarred and traumatized…"
"How are they to reclaim the earth above, if what they had once built is now all in ruin, with only rubble and ash remaining? How are they to do such a thing, if a memory of our doings still lingers in their minds?" Ignar shook his head. It just didn't make any sense.
"You don't know what you've done. Yet you dare speak; yet you dare give excuse." Time spoke through their teeth, "You've heard my prophecy, you know what is to come. This... is not enough to stop it."
"Our doom will come either way. Ignar, you must go after them; you must finish what we've started."
A dark shadow placed itself onto Ignar's face, "No," he said, "I will not do such a thing. I have killed enough in our name, and I have for far too long served as your sword. I have slaughtered when I never wanted to, I have brought ruin, when we should've allowed life…"
"All this and much more just because of your demented visions; your so-called prophecies that have only prolonged our lives a little... but with what cost, I ask you…"
Ignar let his gaze go from one Sharan to the next, "Have we not let Time rule over us for far too long? Have their visions not brought great peril and destruction to us and our kind since the very beginning?"
"Billions have died... and for what?"
"Freedom?" Ignar spat, "We've only brought death, nothing more. Because of what Time has claimed to have seen, we've only brought our kind closer and closer to extinction."
"I will not be forced to continue with this farce." He let his magic swell, the shadow that had covered his face grew in size, and for a moment, he stood like a giant before ants he could so easily crush. "There has been enough death today. Let this end."
The other Sharan seemed to shake. Love and Hatred's brows seemed to furrow further. The decision they had made was ever clearer on that beautiful face of theirs.
But Time did not yield. They did not seem afraid. They still stood tall, still above the rest of them; still their leader, still the one who had a vision for them since the beginning. The only future they would ever follow.
Time's expression softened, and they sighed. "I understand your doubt," they shook their head, "It can be so easy to doubt when you've not seen what I have. The dreams that haunt me, the deaths that I have seen... Ignar, they are worse than the things either of us has done."
"Imagine deaths more plentiful than those that died at N'Sharan. Imagine a darkness far more potent than what was left behind. Ignar... imagine ruined cities, reduced into dust, more numerous than those you've destroyed today." Time's eyes were of steel, so sharp was their gaze now placed onto Ignar. It peered within, it cut through his regret, his fears, and his hopes. It saw all...
"Brother, you must trust me, or else all will be lost," Time whispered, the sharpness now gone. Instead, Ignar was met with hollow eyes, a dull expression of someone who had seen far more than they were ever supposed to.
Ignar swallowed. It was difficult not to believe them. Those eyes, they had truly seen something past what Ignar could ever understand. "Even then, not another life will I take, not today." His word was final.
None of them showed any visible anger, yet an awkward silence persisted, one only ended by the Sharan of Love and Hatred, "What if…" their eyes scanned the caverns around them, a side-eyed glance at Time, and then a slight smile as they continued, "We would just... seal them here?"
"Seal them?" Order and Chaos asked, at last, intrigued by the conversation at hand. Their expression, once filled with awe, brightened further: "Then seal them we shall," Order and Chaos proclaimed, as if they had come up with the suggestion themselves.
The rest looked at them with what seemed like curiosity, yet the Sharan of Life and Death still peered at him, and the decision in Love and Hatred's eyes was ever-present.
"How?" Ignar whispered. He didn't know any better. He didn't know that this had been a trap since the very beginning. They had all seen how much stronger he was than the rest.
The Sharan of Lies and Truths giggled, "A prison, of course. How else, you scale-brained simpleton?"
Ignar ignored them and their insults; he looked around, assessing just how much he would have to do. It wouldn't be difficult. "A magical lock, the size of this hole, one that would reach even the deepest parts of these caverns, limiting the area where the Atheians could dig…" he muttered, "It could be easily done... but it would need an eternal power-source, or there would come a day when the magic would wither and release itself…"
"But who could be strong enough to become that power source?" Lies and Truths asked, a wry smile on their lips.
They all stared at him. Ignar could feel their heavy gazes. His brows furrowed, "Surely there is another way?"
The Sharan of Order and Chaos shook their head, "I doubt any of us could cover such a potentially massive amount of land... the caverns could go for hundreds of miles for all we know."
Ignar nodded. They were right. Were they not? Time nodded along with him, "Then there is our solution... Ignar, to let the Atheians still live, are you willing to be connected to such a lock for the rest of eternity? For if you won't go after them, and kill them today, one of us will have to."
Ignar's posture collapsed slightly. It wouldn't be pleasant to be connected by such a magical device, for it would severely limit him and his abilities. He would become far less powerful than he was now. But even then... it seemed like an insignificant price to pay for the lives of hundreds of thousands of Atheians. A sigh escaped his lips.
"If there is no other way, if you aren't willing to let them live in peace below the earth. Then I consent to this destiny." Ignar said, turning around and taking flight, making his way deeper into the caverns, lighting their way as they went further into the caves, reaching the throat of it.
Once more, Ignar was the one to concede, the one to become something for the sake of others. Be it a sword to punish and slaughter those who might be an obstacle to their cause, or now, becoming a shield against which the currents of the other's existence could swell against, but never pierce.
He and the rest of the Sharan that had followed him came to a stop near a cavern entrance, through which the Atheians had passed hours ago. The spot seemed good enough.
Ignar closed his eyes, spreading his wings and his arms, releasing his magics, a shadow that crept into the bedrock, the walls, the floors, and the ceiling of the caverns around them; piercing into them, soaking them, and becoming one with them. He began to levitate, and from behind him he heard a gentle murmur, one with a tinge of bitterness: "We will assist you." The voice was Time's, or perhaps Love and Hatred's; it sounded hesitant, a rare thing for one of the Sharan. Ignar couldn't tell by this point, his mind was far too deep within the magic that he was constructing.
He poured it all in, knowing that this might be the only way to allow the Atheians to live. The only way for Time and the rest to be satisfied. His mind went deeper and deeper into the bedrock, going further and further away, finding more caves and caverns, lakes and underground rivers. He felt he could feel the Atheians walking across the caverns. But there was something else as well... Something that lay deeper within. An odd memory that he could not recognize: darkness, past which he traversed... Whispers soon forgotten caressed him, for a moment, sadness instilled itself within. He felt so cold, so lost. He could not feel his body; he could feel the rock and all the things it held within. Miles upon miles, he let his magic wander deeper within, until at last, far away from where he had begun. Ignar, at last, found the end of it all. A grand lake, which he decided to set as the back wall of what many could claim to be his masterpiece.
But within this magical creation of his, he felt a tether, at touch, someone else's magic. A warmth, one nothing more than a tickle, that perished as soon as it was felt. The others must have been helping him, so he ignored this gentle, yet invasive moment.
He felt pleased and for a good reason. Despite all the wrongs he had committed the day before. This was something that could redeem him. None could claim that he hadn't been merciful, even if a billion had perished in his heavenly fire.
He locked it. The caverns now feel like a part of him. A pseudo-sentient being that would remain locked into him unless he released it someday, or if he were to die, but that was unlikely. He let his mind slowly return, making his way back through the rock, making sure that there were no holes. He passed the strange darkness, and a faint whisper touched him, but it felt as if he was in deep slumber. Perhaps a dream he had had thousands of years ago…
And when he reached the place where he had begun. His mind met a strange object around him, he felt metal connected to it... to him? Metal bit. Cold, then burning; hissing, screeching; its teeth sinking through scale.
His eyes burst open, and around him was a darkness so final he thought he had lost his way, and arrived in a body which was not his own. He tried to form magic, but found himself weaker than the chains that kept him still; he tried to release the lock to regain his abilities, but the lock seemed out of his reach...
He tried to move, but could not, for a thousand chains had been stuck into him.
"Hello?" he called out, but only his voice replied. First, he was confused. Surely, there had been an error; surely, he had made a mistake, arrived at the wrong body, or something. It must have been so.
Then came the realization. He recognized the magic around him. It was theirs. His brethren, the rest of the Sharan, everyone but the Sharan of Light and Darkness, had helped with its formation. He could feel their presence all around him. He could almost hear their sneers... "Ignar the Fool," they said, such utterings that now had become real...
Bitter tears filled him from within, as tears pushed out from eyes that had not cried for a time unknown... He had done everything they had wanted of him, yet this was how they paid back his loyalty.
He closed his eyes, and darkness claimed all. He could still feel them—his brethren. But beneath that, deeper still... he felt them.
And in that absolute silence, thought began to rise—slow, dripping, like blood from an old wound.
- - - - -
Formless, yet whole.
Constant, yet flickering—darkness shifting like rain, like static.
The absolute, deafening sound of silence; the darkest form of solace. Formless thoughts, taking forms; formless, yet whole again.
A passing feeling goes through; a thought, harmless: I deserve this.
No—we all deserve this.
Darkness, yet light breaks through in another formless form: sound.
Words. Musings, thoughts... meaningless uttering. Who dares speak? Who dares break the silence?
A sigh, then a chuckle. Kanrel could feel him... He could hear him... or them? All of them, all at once, together:
"I was left alone with only my regrets. A darkness that swelled around me, that sank its teeth deep into me; releasing pus from old wounds, bringing forth memories, and oh so many regrets."
"Imagine a flagellant at the altar of his god, whip in hand, back already bloodied. Thousand scars, reopened. Thick, red blood trickles down. He prays to his god, but receives no answer; only more torment. He must strike again; let the blood flow. Maybe then god will find him, and give him the answers and the forgiveness he so yearns."
"This is what I became in the globe, with the rattling of chains to remind me that I would never move again, that my wings wouldn't sprout freely. For all of the crimes done to me, they had taken my wings from me; the truest mark of divinity, now gone."
"Naked. I felt so naked. Everything I blamed on myself. Even the wings that I lost, I lost because of myself. Because of my own foolish belief that my so-called brethren would find the same truth that I had found."
"I was to be blamed for everything that had happened. I should've long ago told them the right thing to do, and not let them dwell in the uncertainties of Time's visions. I should've led them through the darkness, I should've shone a light on them; a clearer path to a future, where we could live together, still among our people... and not be the last that remains of the Sharan."
"N'Sharan, her rebellion was meant to happen. And from her moment of torment, she would've risen anew, a beautiful tree ripe with fruit, no longer tainted by the filth of those who yearn only for its sweetness, but now lead by new governance, one from the people for the people; one that removes the nobles that still enslaved its populace... one protected by the Nine Magi, from the shadows as gods they could trust in, and not as the tyrants that we had become…"
"And the Atheians... With them, we could have just waited. We could have seen for ourselves whether Time's visions were true or not. We could have waited thousands of years without having to place a finger on them... but no."
"From the very beginning, I was supposed to just say 'no.' It was all that I had to do. Hell... I should've become a tyrant toward my brethren, the rest of Magi, to make sure that our direction would be just and fair, for it is clear that at N'Sharan's demise, I remained the only one who could remember the words of Kalma."
"I was the one meant to lead them—the fool who dared kill god, cursed and blessed by Kalma, blamed and challenged by Him to the end... It was me He wished to prove wrong."
"And proven wrong I was."
"As years went by, my blame shifted from myself. I placed it upon the other Sharan. 'How did they have the right to judge, to rule over me, to betray and lock beneath the earth, when I was the one who had been right since the beginning.'"
"I was the one who was right. We could have saved N'Sharan—our people. Judged the Atheians with grace. They, too, deserved the right to live beneath the warmth of the sun. We could have all done so. There would have been no wars or death, no more lies or chaos, no hatred between our peoples... there'd be peace, order, and the chance for us all to live beneath the grace of light."
"For years, I blamed others—and slowly, I forgot the very crimes I once regretted.. How else is one to survive with only oneself as company?"
"You know it too, don't you? You came to the exact conclusion as I did…"
"You have two options when coming in contact with an impasse with your own morals, ethics, or beliefs: You either pay for the crimes that you have committed; or, you lie to yourself... and make yourself believe that the evil that you've committed was not wrong; and, in fact, it was not evil at all and if it were evil, then that evil had to be done, for there was no other way. The actions that you commit must become just, or else one will falter and be consumed by not only regret but also guilt."
"It is exactly what I did, without being cognizant of it. I shifted the weight, rationalized, forgot, and placed the burden on others. And to make it more believable for myself, I made up another crime for myself, one that I could consider worse than the horrors that I unleashed in N'Sharan onto my own people, and later on to the Atheians."
"It didn't even take that long in the grand scheme of things... for what are a few decades to a god if nothing more than a blink of an eye?"
"But such bliss always ends. At the edge of all things, where lost magic slumbered, something awakened. A screech surged through my very existence. Visions of deeds I had never seen presented themselves before me; things I hadn't seen, but knew the mark of... There was familiarity. There was the stench of Kalma…"
"Kanrel, somehow, despite all things that are likely and are not. It would seem that the ground itself has a longer memory than even gods... From ruined kingdoms and their cities, ash is born, and from that ash, grows new things…"
"... but from Kalma's final actions, the destruction of the Empire of the Dragon grew only more of him. The memory of him and his actions, now intertwined with the vengeful choirs of tortured souls, stuck in a memory from which they cannot escape."
"The Veil, Kanrel. It seeped from the caverns around me, it broke through and made its way into the globe, it pillaged my mind and found a fool who had not paid for his crimes... and it broke me. It stripped away the lies I had told myself, and it gifted me with the truth. With memories from which I cannot escape."
"I am so much more like Kalma than any other being in existence. Only the collective of the Nine Magi is what he was exactly. And for this, I deserve these chains. The loneliness of thousands of years? Yet another punishment I deserve. The whispers at the edges of my existence, the Veil, and what it represents? It is of me, it is me, we are one by now, and I no longer deserve the freedom to be just Ignar... Not only am I the Angel of War and Peace, but I have also long ago become the God of Death, I have become Kalma, as he once foretold... and through the wrongs that I have committed, and those that I have caused, I have become the Chained God, and I am become the Betrayed."
The static floods back in; it screeches in his ears; and the darkness takes a form so solid and cold that at last... it breaks. A crack runs through the formless, yet whole. No silence remains; no darkness to rule. Only remain a God and a Man, two figures standing in a globe that surrounds them; face to face, two planets no longer just passing, at last.
One asks the other: "Do you now know who you are and who you are to become?"
And the other replies: "A judge," he heard himself believe.