Limbo

by Thiago d'Evecque

  All our effort was in vain. Because they overpowered us, the angels fell and became wingless demons, and the rebellion had its premeditated end.

  My body became less like wax and more like skin. My clothes outlined their way around me, clearly distinguishable: a rawhide corset and pants made up of several layers sewn together.

  We moved back into darkness after the Niflheim fell apart, leaving Hel and the wailing souls behind.

  Are you ready for another fight?

  “Do I have a choice? Do I have the luxury of resting and waiting for this to heal? I don’t even know if this will ever heal.”

  You’d better not use it as an excuse, you despicable vermin, because I don’t want you to die and get me stuck in this sword until Ancients know when.

  At least now, unlike when we started, Chuck realized that his existence depended on mine. Our bond was stronger, even though his abyssal personality still prevailed.

  Where to now?

  “Greece.”

  We would not literally go to southern Europe, since we were not on Earth, but we would go to its equivalent here. Because my eighth chosen was not an ordinary being. It was a personification, a pure spirit of pity and mercy. A spirit who refused to consider any suffering as an indifferent fact. A spirit that shared the pain of those who suffered; that shared the madness and misery of those who caused the suffering. But who understood, above all, that solidarity was intended not only for the unfortunate, but for all creatures.

  I would go to Eleos, the spirit of mercy.

  10

  HEAVY HEARTS

  Colorful pieces fit together all around us. A carpet of short grass stretched as far as the eye could see. The cool night breeze shook the treetops, tearing some leaves and taking them away.

  A Greek temple formed before me. Nine smooth marble columns marked the front facade of the entrance. Impeccable reliefs of horses, gods, and heroes illustrated the surface below the roof.

  The impeccable marble reflected the full moonlight. The temple had no cracks or age marks. It exuded all the energy and glory of Greek architecture, the caring for art, form, and beauty understood as fundamental to both utility and content. It represented a people that carried within them a belief that said: if in the race for advancement we forget the beautiful, the barbarians have already won.

  “This is the temple of Eleos,” I said, my voice breaking, admiring the geometry that marked an era and an entire culture.

  What a ridiculous site. I miss my submerged home. What clown would build a temple with these mediocre forms?

  “What?” It’s not always possible to ignore him, no matter how hard I try. “You ignorant god, this is a classical architecture with remarkable features a nation’s rationality and beauty. It’s the ultimate pattern in a system of orders—”

  Save your mind-numbing speech. They are weak and insignificant expressions. Search for my sunken city and contemplate what vigorous buildings are, behold the indomitable representation of unreachable dimensions, where I slept and dreamed of my triumphant return to Earth.

  “You’ve certainly put people to sleep with this little story.”

  Your insolence shall be your undoing, Chuck growled, the alien runes flashing furiously.

  “My undoing is paying attention to a megalomaniac nut.”

  I’m the Ancient One, The Cosmic Terror… he gurgled and grunted as I yawned and made fun of him.

  Smacking my lips, tasting sweet revenge, I entered the temple of the spirit of mercy.

  A warm, benevolent energy greeted me. I hesitated at the threshold due to the aura Chuck projected, but I had no option. I carried on to the temple’s only room, small and square and almost empty except for a marble altar in the center.

  A globe of white light blazed above it. It was the temple’s only source of illumination, and it kept the darkness at bay.

  That was Eleos herself. The spirit of mercy and compassion created by humans, born of the desire for peace and tranquility from suffering hearts. The universal representation of sympathy for all who suffer or long for an oasis of care in the desert of distress. Eleos never lacked a supplicant and never left a prayer unanswered.

  But time had always been mankind’s enemy. Just as it healed their bruises, it also erased their learning. Thus, they needed to make the same mistakes to learn old lessons. Eleos practiced her power from her home here in the Limbo, but she was more efficient inside flesh and bones, teaching by example.

  For humans forgot.

  “Welcome again, warrior soul.” Her voice reverberated, placid and noble. The sound that sunlight made as it touched Earth’s atmosphere. My body relaxed at the serene, refreshing rhythm of that ethereal voice. However, the ‘again’ bothered me.

  “Greetings, eternal Eleos. I apologize for entering your abode with this embodiment of madness and wickedness.” I pointed at Chuck.

  I’m right here…

  “No need for apologies. It’s not all madness and wickedness. I detect complexity, wonder, curiosity. He is like a brush that has always seen black but has come to taste the full color spectrum.”

  I’m still here, damnit!

  “I see, great Eleos. And… what do you mean by ‘again’?”

  “You have been here before. Twice. Your aura was different, as I recall, as was your intent and the evil presence that accompanied you.”

  My phantom heart beat faster. I had already asked Eleos to come back twice before. And with an evil presence. A previous spiritual weapon? My breathing raced as I looked for invisible answers.

  “Twice…” I mumbled. “You’ve been back to Earth twice?”

  “Once. The second time, you came to wash the guilt away from the soul. To heal your heart from a lost love. To forget.”

  Tears sprouted forcing their way down. A memory of gentle honey eyes stared at me with joy and kindness.

  “I will tell you once more: a sad love is better than a joyful hatred, which was the path you walked back then. I see you didn’t care for my answer. After that I didn’t sense you anymore, warrior soul. You have been in the shadows for ages.”

  I kneeled in front of the marble pillar, lost and frustrated. The searing pain of my cuts flushed at once, especially Hel’s.

  I wanted to make sense of all the memory pieces I had gathered so far, but nothing fit together to make the whole picture. All I had were flashes. I lowered my head to hide my teary red eyes and realized it was stupid, because Eleos couldn’t see, only read feelings—his perception was like the fingers of an experienced blind woman, and every other spirit as if made in Braille.

  “Your burden is still heavy,” Eleos said. “Why can’t you forgive and move on?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, almost voiceless. “I forgot, but I didn’t forgive and didn’t move on. Something inside me still holds me back.”

  My anguish overwhelmed Eleos’ aura of solace.

  “You forgot…” the spirit pondered. “That’s the question then. Forgiving is not erasing, warrior soul. Forgiving is not forgetting.”

  I let more tears fall.

  “Forgiving is suspending hatred. Dispelling it, triumphing over all the resentment you carry.”

  His aura gradually enveloped me, and despair flew away. The burning pain was distant.

  “Yes, great Eleos… but I can’t. I don’t know why I had this time out, but I think it was to forget. And now that I’ve woken up, I just want retribution. How can I stop wanting to punish those who hurt me?”

  Her light blinked for a moment. “You still don’t understand,” she said with sorrow and unlimited patience. “This is not about ceasing to punish. Do you want to be an eternal prisoner of your blindness, forever hostage to your foolishness? We cannot overpower all our enemies.”

  “We can try.”

  “Then you shall always fuel hatred with hatred. If you cannot even defeat what’s inside you, what chance do you have against your enemies? Evil wins regardless. You came to ask me to come back, but how
can I leave you when I still feel all your resentment?”

  I lifted my head, still kneeling. “Because humans need you the most.”

  “You need me, and you’re here right now.”

  “I can wait. Hatred won’t consume me.” I really believed that. I thought I had control over it, that my desire for revenge on the archangels was the power driving me on. How wrong I was. Hatred always took its toll.

  Eleos emanated her serene light stronger by a notch.

  “At least your wish is pure and selfless,” he said. His form bulked and thinned as if taking deep breaths. “Listen, warrior soul: do you think the villain chooses to be so? Aren’t you the villain in his story? Punishment may be justified, but hatred? It’s a sore that only you will carry.”

  “What if they are cruel for cruelty’s sake?”

  “Then they are sick,” she decreed, “and that’s even more reason to forgive them. We do not hate the rain that falls, floods and destroys, nor the sun that dries, cracks and burns, or the lightning that descends and fulminates. How can they be blamed if they don’t even have freedom of choice?”

  Did the angels, without free will, simply act the only way they could?

  No. They could choose. Just as the rebels chose to rid themselves of tyranny. The rebellion was not an attack, it was a defense. We said no, we said enough, we fought for our position.

  And we lost.

  “You will understand when you see the motive behind the action rather than the action itself,” Eleos added.

  I stood up and ran my fingers over my eyes. “It’s no use, Eleos. I can’t forgive who does not ask for forgiveness. There’s nothing to forgive where there’s no remorse.”

  He fell silent, gently levitating on the pillar, rising and falling. “You’re right, warrior soul. But you’re seeing it from a twisted angle. The suffering is in you, not in those who won’t repent. You need not renounce retribution. Just leave the hatred to the enemy, the cruelty to the cruel, the rancor to the vicious. Free yourself.”

  “I will try.” I meant it. I understood her words and their importance, even though I couldn’t absorb them at that moment.

  Don’t.

  The spirit of forgiveness glared, and I turned my head to Chuck, surprised. I had already forgotten his presence, which had waned, probably because of Eleos.

  None of this makes sense. Ask him if he has enemies.

  “Wha—”

  Ask him!

  I decided to accept Chuck’s request—or demand. He was never interested in other souls, or anything other than himself, so why not?

  “Great Eleos…”

  “I understand him, warrior soul. I can identify your reluctant ally’s question. No, dark spirit, I have no enemies.”

  Then how easy it is to live and forgive, right? No one tries to finish you, no one tries to destroy your very essence, to take everything from you, to make it like you never even existed. How easy it is to shout to the winds for everyone to forgive and to kiss and to live happily ever after when you never have to face these problems yourself. How delightful it must be to spew advice from above a ridiculous pill—

  “You’re wrong!” Eleos’ voice seemed to fill the entire Limbo. It echoed inside me, making my soul tremble. Her light shone as bright as the sun, I turned my head and raised my arms to shield my eyes. Chuck shifted, his tentacles twitching. The god always knew how to impose himself before energies greater than him, but Eleos’ benevolent presence left him incapacitated in a curious way. Chuck and I discovered at that moment that forgiveness didn’t mean being a pushover.

  “You are wrong, dark spirit,” Eleos repeated. “Many hate me, many wish me ill, many try to eradicate me here or on Earth or on other planes, today, yesterday, and tomorrow. Some see me as an enemy. That doesn’t mean I hate them, dark spirit. I love them.”

  The sound of her words was crystal clear and reverberated in that small room. “Yes, I love them when I can and forgive them when I can’t.”

  Then you are weak. His voice was insecure. He just needed to have the last word. But he wouldn’t have it.

  “Again, you’re wrong. I can show you that forgiveness is never weakness or yielding. It is the weapon of the strongest, dark spirit, a strength no one can ever take from me. No one but myself can ever stop me from using it. It’s a joy, and that’s how I fight.”

  Chuck fidgeted and grunted under his breath while Eleos’ light dimmed. I felt as lost as the god in my sword. Eleos’ wisdom didn’t yet reach me. Or rather: I wasn’t yet ready to reach her knowledge.

  “And I love you, dark spirit. Nothing you do can change that. I love you too, warrior soul. I love you even more because your suffering is inside, and I would do everything to remove it, but I can’t. Only you can.”

  I lowered my head and my shoulders sagged. It was embarrassing to be unable to accept something so simple.

  Why…?

  “Because I can. Because I want to. But above all, because you need.”

  And Chuck didn’t speak anymore. I wasn’t sure if he accepted the fact that he wouldn’t change Eleos’ mind, realized that he wouldn’t win the argument, or understood the message of the spirit of forgiveness. I didn’t ask.

  “I fear for both of you too,” said Eleos. “The dark spirit feeds on you more and more, absorbing your feelings, but you feed on him too, warrior soul. Your presences add to each other constantly. This confluence worries me because you also add the worst there is in each other.”

  Chuck whirled his tentacles.

  “I fear for the result of this exchange,” Eleos continued. “And so, I wish that if you cannot love, may you at least stop hating.”

  I took in her light. She was exactly what mankind needed, as did I, Chuck, and all other creatures. We needed true forgiveness, the kind that left no grievances behind, the compassion that put two people on equal footing—the sufferer and the one who shared the suffering.

  Mankind didn’t have that anymore. They had forgotten. They erred too much, were too weak, too imperfect. Hurtful, selfish, and proud.

  And mankind’s faults were mine, too.

  Eleos was indispensable.

  “Eleos,” I began. “I will do my best with what you have given me and with all the strength I have. This I promise.”

  I raised Chuck. “Thanks for all your help. But I didn’t come here for me, as you know. Great spirit, will you come back and help humanity?”

  Her light blinked hard once again. “Yes, warrior soul, I hereby accept the call.”

  I trespassed the globe of white light with Chuck. Eleos vibrated, sending waves all over my arm. A low hum gradually increased until the spirit crumbled and the sound hissed away. Light exploded across the temple, blinding, overshadowing my vision. And then it went out.

  Everything vanished. The pillar, the moon, the grass, the trees, the temple. Only the Limbo’s darkness remained.

  Darkness was always here, waiting for the light that never came.

  Forgiveness. The forgiveness that my friends and I never had, I would have to demonstrate to be free from hatred. It would take me a long time to understand that. And until then, I would lose a lot, too.

  The memories Eleos helped me recover made my body less luminous. I was far from the ghost I was when I awoke. My long, black hair solidified and fell over my shoulders, contrasting against my still semi-transparent skin.

  I moved on to the ninth chosen. A representative of temperance, humility, and simplicity. Someone who showed that much could be done with little; that a castle started with one brick. Someone with the intelligence to reduce the most complex to the simplest. A soul that found contentment in scarcity and understood that quantity was not the point, but rather the attitude toward things.

  The next one would be Tabadiku, the Bamboo of Indonesia.

  11

  SIMPLENESS

  With my wounds on fire, I kept walking. I was trying to find some position to ease the discomfort, but when one wound hurt less, another tore
me apart.

  The scenery around us took form. We were on a dirt path leading to a bamboo forest. Green and thick logs swayed close to each other. The bamboos covered the entire region. Some clouds traveled over the sunny sky. It was an aggressively normal and forgettable weather.

  I followed the dirt path and head into the thicket. A strong smell of leaves and wood stuck to me. I pushed bamboos aside until a clearing where someone sat on a rock.

  Is the soul inside this statue?

  That was no statue, it was Tabadiku himself, sitting motionless without breathing.

  He was thin and over six feet tall. You wouldn’t remember him in a crowd of two. An absolutely ordinary figure. Light brown skin; flat wide nose; a few wrinkles here and there. His hair, dark as his eyes, was a riotous mass, like a bird nest.

  Tabadiku wore a loincloth tied by a rope around his waist. It fell to his knees, and since he was sitting, it didn’t hide much. Almost nothing, really. Attached to the rope was a sheath made of bamboo, holding a dagger the size of a forearm.

  He looked up at me with a blank stare in his almond-shaped eyes. His mouth was slack and relaxed, with a protruding lower lip.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  He shrugged and Chuck’s tentacles fluttered, startled to see the statue alive.

  “What are you doing there?”

  “Jus’ sittin’,” he answered quickly, mending one word with the next. The last syllable was barely pronounced. Nevertheless, his voice was soft.

  “That I can see. But why are you sitting there?”

  “Better’n stand up.”

  Chuck grunted. Are you implying that this fool is necessary to save humanity?

  I grimaced. Yes, he was needed.

  Tabadiku was born, grew up, and died as a humble person. Son of a poor family, he fell in love with the daughter of the chief of his tribe. Falling in love may be too strong an expression for him. Showed interest may be more appropriate.