Garrick shook his head. “Please, you must listen. I have little time left.” He contorted in pain, snapping his head back as he let out a scream. Seelios noticed the shimmering crystal that hung from his friend’s neck.
Garrick thrashed his head about and began flailing his arms wildly as if he were fighting off something, and losing. He fell to the ground and grazed a bush that retracted from his touch, disintegrating into a pile of wilt.
“What’s happening to you?” Seelios asked, terror in his eyes.
“Gods, why didn’t he help me. He could’ve ended it,” Garrick whispered to himself. He lifted his eyes to Seelios. “I have only a small amount of time to speak with you. Soon, the demon will take me back.” Garrick winced in pain, he clutched his chest with one hand. “You must stop them.”
Garrick fell down to his knees and screamed again, shutting his eyes in pain.
“Who?” Seelios asked, but Garrick didn’t answer as he fell to his side and curled up into a fetal position.
Still laying on the ground, he lifted a single finger up towards the sky. At first, Seelios wasn’t sure what he was pointing at. He searched the tree tops for someone or something to be looking down on them, but saw nothing but empty branches and abandoned huts. Beyond the treetops the Daylight Star twinkled in the sky as bright as ever.
“The demons. They are growing stronger,” Garrick said through raspy breaths. “They’ve taken control of me and others too. Soon they will walk upon the earth.”
“The gods will stop them,” Seelios said, looking back down at his friend.
Garrick seized with pain for a moment, then gave a small chuckle. “The gods have no idea what they’ve done, imprisoning them in the sky of the mortal realm. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Their power is terrible, growing stronger every day. The gods will be powerless against them.” He lifted his head, his eyes black as midnight. Something else other than his friend peered back at Seelios.
Seelios activated his truth ring and felt the mana creep into his vision. A small circle of yellow light in Garrick’s chest was shrinking fast against a sea of darkness. Blackness oozed out of his aura, curling up to the sky.
“Go, get out of here,” Garrick said through gritted teeth. “You need to leave.” He gave one final blood-curdling scream as the light in his chest winked out of existence. In that same moment, a wave of ashen decay spread out from where he lay. It rippled out to the surrounding trees and swept up their trunks. Life drained from their limbs as the colors of green were replaced with brown and black. Huts and wooden planks from walkways crashed to the ground as the branches grew too weak to support the weight.
Seelios stepped back, watching the forest around him bow down in submission to the plague that spread from Garrick. Witnessing such destruction of life, Seelios knew it had to be true. For the first time in the existence of humanity, the demons were among them.
The plague rushed up to his feet and the barrier of light flickered and flashed with blinding intensity. Rotting earth surrounded him on all sides and the decay tried to slide up around his ankles. Seelios looked down at his hands and saw the color of his skin through tiny holes in the golden light as the barrier struggled to hold together.
Not wanting to see what would happen if the plague overtook him, Seelios activated the teleportation totem.
When the light faded, Seelios wasn’t sure where he’d find himself. The artifact, while working on his command, seemed to be operating independently. He didn’t have a place in mind when he was whisked away, yet he found his landing surprisingly graceful. His feet touched down on soft tufts of grass. When his surroundings came into view, he saw the tops of trees stretching in all directions. He spun to see Paloise’s walls and turrets far away.
Seelios thought about Garrick’s words. Demonic possession and voices of temptation were supposed to be nothing but myth. The tales Seelios had read were so unimaginably horrific that it seemed impossible to be anything more than just a story. But what happened to Garrick, that was real, and if everything else he said was true then more will bend to the demons’ will.
The sun was nearing its highest point in the sky, almost noon. Seelios looked toward Paloise and activated his ring. The shimmering stone of Ophanim’s Grand Temple appeared like a glowing beacon, stretching up into the clouds. The light he saw in Pinewood, the protective barrier, the other figure; it all must’ve meant that one of the disciples was there. He had to go to find answers.
The light of the totem took him once more, but this time he knew his destination with purpose. When the light faded, blue skies dotted with white clouds stretched in every direction. He turned and all of the disciples were gathered in a semi-circle, standing in between the pillars around the outside perimeter of the stone platform. They stared at him in silence, wearing looks that seemed to resemble something close to reverence.
“One of you was there!” Seelios yelled. “Someone could’ve helped him, but you just let him suffer. I thought you were supposed to protect people.”
The disciples continued to regard him in silence. Seelios glanced around, frustration beginning to build.
“Which one of you was it? Or was it all of you?” Seelios said.
A radiant light came from behind Seelios, casting a long shadow from his feet that stretched out to the other side of the platform.
“It was me,” a familiar voice said. A voice that Seelios had known his entire life. One that spoke with conviction and wisdom.
Seelios turned and looked at the man standing behind him. “F—father?”
Ricker stood before him in brilliant armor that shone like a mirror. A white cape draped over his pauldrons and hung with regal grace behind him. His eyes glowed with a white radiance that could only come from a true god.
“My son,” Ricker said. “You’ve had to go through so much. I’m so sorry.”
“Lord Ophanim, you’ve regained your power!” Ramiel said with surprise and excitement in his voice.
Seelios turned and saw all of the disciples had dropped down to one knee, stealing looks up at Ricker, awestruck.
“Not all of it,” Ricker said to the disciple, then turned back to Seelios. “I’m glad Gregory was able to save you from Fembleton, he will be missed more than you know. What Gameus did, it was—”
“You’ve been a god this whole time? The god of our realm?” Seelios raised his voice. “Where were you when all those people died?”
“You will stay your tongue when our lord is before you, boy,” Raphael said as he stood.
Ricker held up his hand. “He has every right to be angry. I’ve kept much from him.”
“Garrick is suffering, father. You were there, you saw him. Why didn’t you help him?”
“I tried. Garrick is beyond mine or anyone else’s power here to help. All but perhaps one,” Ricker said, fixing his eyes on Seelios. A wind whipped over the platform, sending Ricker’s cape swirling about him.
“Why . . . why are you doing this to me? Why have you put me through all this?” Seelios said, dropping his eyes to the ground.
“My lord, the boy is not of sound spirit. He has too much inner turmoil,” Anysia said from the far edge of the platform.
“Were you or anyone else here that much different?” Ricker said to the disciples. They glanced at each other in silence.
“Why is this happening?” Seelios whispered.
“It saddens me that you were born into a world on the brink of darkness,” Ricker said. “But with you, there’s a chance to save it. You have a power within you.”
Seelios saw the ruins of Fembleton in his mind, his hometown destroyed before him. He saw the deaths of all the people who died in Alnerwick. He saw the pain on Garrick’s face. If there was even a possibility to keep any more of that from happening, he had to try.
“Seelios. Mortals need our help, but we can’t do it alone. We need you with us,” Ricker said. “Will you join us?”
Seelios looked at his father. He stared into t
he glowing eyes of the God of Light, his father, and he saw in them something that he’d never seen before in his life: pride.
“I will,” Seelios said.
About the Author
David is a federal consultant and part-time writer originally from Middletown, Maryland. He’s crafted fantasy stories pulling from literary, cinematic, and video gaming epiphanies that every 90s kid experienced in front of their living room TV. Unless that kid didn’t have cable, like David. His passion to submerge the reader into worlds wrought with strife and wonder drives him to create fresh stories and original narratives. Please visit his social media pages and subscribe to the newsletter for the latest updates on his work.
www.david-chesney.com
[email protected]
As the Earthen Stag Walks (The Simulacrum Book 1) Page 18