by Dan O'Brien
“I know. My time has passed; I am no longer a man in command of his surroundings. I am a fading image of myself, and what you see now is all that remains: an old, broken man.”
“I don’t know what to say. I had expected you to age, but not like this. I ….”
“Say no more, Erinana. Time is truly at an end, and there are no words to repair what has been done. Look out into the horizon and watch as our reality collapses and an unknown emerges.”
“An unknown?”
“We do not know what comes now; perhaps a new reality, perhaps nothing. It is now a matter of faith, and I place mine in a better place where I can begin anew and not be plagued by my follies and regrets.”
Damon raised himself now, his shaky limbs braving the pain and anguish of movement. He stood upon his own two feet and walked forward to meet Erinana, her body slumped and her eyes glazed over with pain and regret for the moments of times past that she had hoped forever to hold on to.
“Perhaps we can begin anew, you and me. Maybe we will be given another chance for the life we were meant to live,” choked Erinana. The tears flowed freely now, the trails tracing the curves of her face and splashing against the blackened floor.
“We did what we could. We lived. We achieved,” responded Damon weakly
The swirling masses of energy pulsated and fell from the sky, bulbous forms twisting and writhing along the earth and consuming and distorting all that they touched. The features of Damon regressed and were restored to the youthful visage that Erinana had carried with her every day since they had parted. She buried her head into his shoulder and sobbed as the waves of time and creation collapsed upon their frames and erased them from this plane.
* * * * *
The world of Xeon, the purest of all races, the land that spawned the creature that defied existence, stood last in the path of the merger. The people of Xeon gathered in the center of the city, watching the sky, knowing full well what had transpired. Madon stood next to Herado, and he turned to his leader.
“It is not over.”
The words were flat and simple, no inflection nor tone.
“I know. We could never have stopped the merger. Perhaps we should not have tried. But there is still hope. The merger is only temporary.” Madon nodded and watched as the heavens caught fire.
“All of this pain spawned from the son I raised in the morals of Xeon. He wasted a lifetime to end everything that he had quested for, and even now he revels in his madness,” sighed Herado in frustration, his arms across his massive chest.
“If only Rider knew that his powers were still burgeoning, growing based on his experience. If only he had remained focused after leaving us, but it is truly not his fault. The weight of all humanity was upon his shoulders; his charge more than can be asked of any man.”
Herado looked at Madon in sadness, his eyes as clear as they had ever been; yet a sorrow lingered in a way that was foreign to the Xeonians. “Rider will succeed. It is his destiny.”
“There is another world, another plane of existence, another arena for battle.” Madon never removed his eyes from the collapsing stars above. “And battle they shall.”
Herado never heard the words Madon spoke.
As the planet began to implode, all viable gases were removed from the atmosphere. The Xeonians did not writhe in pain, but instead stood steadfast in light of the merger. They knew better than anyone that their faith had not been misplaced. Then, much like the other worlds, Xeon disappeared into itself, being dragged into the swirling vortex.
* * * * *
The world of Baldor was at the epicenter of the vortex, and there stood Xzin, bathed in the glory of destruction. The limitless void was spiraling far beyond sight, the rainbow of colors and textures more vibrant than that of any induced vision one could experience; far beneath him stood Rider and Mela, holding each other. Wei stood apart. He drew his sword, the crimson blade accented in the now iridescent light. Turning toward his lifelong comrades, he saluted them. Rider met his gaze and nodded. Rider watched his friend power up his armor for the last time, the obsidian war clothes something that Rider would never forget.
“Until I see you again,” he whispered.
“Until I see you again, old friend,” replied Wei, turning away from the family that cared most for him.
Wei flew forward, his red aura glowing stronger than it ever had and thrust his sword into the back of Xzin, pushing the crazed warlord toward the merger. Wei pulled the sword from Xzin’s back and slashed at the evil that destroyed the balance of his universe.
He drove the tyrant into the vortex. Xzin’s screams were lost in the powerful silence that permeated what little was left of the universe. Their two figures melted into the endless, formless void.
“I do not know what comes now, but together we will face the future.” Rider turned to the woman that he had pledged to spend his life with so many years ago.
He leaned in to kiss her.
As he did, the void lurched and engulfed them as they experienced the last kiss of the universe. The void enveloped the lovers and Rider could see the universe flash before him, the look on Mela’s face when he proposed to her, and the look on her face when he found her once again. All the memories that held the universe together flowed together, and Rider could feel them course through his mind; he saw the world collapse into itself and wither away into nothingness.
EPILOGUE
Transient of Time
The mountain had many names: some malevolent and foreboding, some ethereal and pristine. The Bearer of the Seven Truths saw the place as a curse, a little of both worlds being that, in some ways, it completed his mission in life. In others it seemed that the mountain was a portent of doom from whence all evil emanated.
The Bearer was a myth, a legendary soul who watched over the people of Prima Terra, the first and most revered land in all of Exodus’ endeavors. Yet there were some who believed that the Bearer took form to battle the minions of Chaos. Fairy tales and stories of warriors, some would scoff. Those tales were told to illuminate history, to lend a certain air of mystery and intrigue to the cataloguing of past events. Eons had passed since the people of Prima Terra knew the horrors of the hordes of Chaos and the battles that ravaged the land when the forces of good and evil clashed upon mortal grounds.
James Rider floated aimlessly amidst the sea of memories, the images of people and places he had never seen gripped his heart and mind as if they were a part of him. He was mere essence – the memories and joys of his plane slowly drifting to the ethereal plane of existence where all remnants of individuality are erased and souls are merged into one – fields of energy that make up the fragility of existence.
Numbness permeated his body, and a feeling of absolute comfort consumed him. Thoughts of Mela and Xzin drifted through his mind, the worries and confrontations that had shaped his life melted into the cosmos. The translucent world of the beyond fluctuated within a prism of colors and images, a slideshow of the lives lost and won throughout eternity.
“James Rider ….”
The voice was stronger now. He had heard it first upon the boarded Baldorian vessel, and it had been so distant then. It was a strong voice now, not from beyond, but from his side.
“I am one of the Tiers of Chronos, and you are in turmoil, James Rider. Your singular existence is one of pain and loss. You have been charged with a mission of legendary proportions.”
Rider’s head turned lazily, his body conforming to a massaging prism that glowed about him. “Chronos ….” His eyes fluttered and he waved his arms at his side as if churning water to angle himself in a different position. “You speak of time as if it were a person, a being.”
“Yes, Time is an essence in a manner of speaking, but you must listen, James Rider. You cannot fade. You have not yet attained salvation.” The voice was a shimmering prism of colors much like the surrounding environment, and to Rider’s drifting consciousness the two were indistinguishable from one another.
“Salvation? I have earned sleep. I am complete.” Rider’s voice drifted with each word, the fading thoughts of a fading being.
“No, you are a transient. You do not belong.” The voice grew stronger now; the tone accusatory and the shifting colors of the prism glowed.
Rider turned now of his own will, the fading features of his face becoming solid once again. Cold blue eyes stared at the indiscernible visage of the voice. “I lost everything that I hold dear – twice. I gave my life for this cause and failed. My work is finished. Find another being.”
“You must go. You are the only one that can be charged. You grow stronger from your failures. You never shy from responsibility or justice. You are necessary, and it has already been decided. I came to you only to appease what anger you have, to perhaps sway you to do it of your own free will.”
“No, this will not be. Change it. Make it someone else. I have suffered enough.”
The clear prisms of colors darkened slightly and blurred, making the figure of the mysterious voice more apparent. “It cannot be undone. What I have spoken is already in motion. Your time here in the Void is nearly over. You will return to the mortal coil.”
“I will not repeat the losses I have suffered. I don’t deserve this.” Rider’s aura was several shades darker than normal.
“I agree. You fought with your entire being. You walked a line few mortals would imagine, much less dare, but it must be and so it shall be done.” The imperial tone of the voice had softened and sounded remorseful to the beleaguered Rider.
“I am not strong enough ….” Rider’s voice faded.
“To have an endless well of inner strength is what it is to be a Bearer of Truth, to be a being such as yourself. You will forever be plagued with failure, yet you will never cease to defeat what is in your path. It is truly admirable.”
“Admirable? Is it admirable to be wrought with pain to lose the ones that mean the most to you? If that is admirable, I wish to be weak.”
“To experience loss is to be mortal, James Rider, yet you have the chance to do what few mortals do. You can find the reason for existence, to defy the whims of death. You are immortal, a being charged with the protection of time.”
The outline of the visage shimmered and then solidified; the form of the voice finally in plain sight. The dark-hooded being floated no more than a few meters from Rider, yet the immense nature of his clear aura infused with the fading waves of Rider’s emerald energy field.
“And Xzin? Am I to fight him again? To rehash the falling of the State and the destruction of peace and justice, the sorrows of losing Mela and Wei again?” Rider spoke slowly and stared at the limitless abyss at his feet. He closed his eyes against the flooding ocean of memories that crashed against the surface of his mind.
“In a manner of speaking, yes. Although the realm in which you define your existence shall be changed, and the force of your coming to that world will shatter the vault of your memories and will confuse you for some time.”
Rider raised his hands to his face and his eyes widened at the fading image of his arms. He stared in disbelief. “What is happening?”
“You are passing through. You are going to another place, a place that is in dire need of your help. Remember, your failure shall set their realm straight. Your failure provides a lesson to them. You are a teacher of things that cannot be explained. It is not truly failure that you experience, but sacrifice. Death in the name of the preservation of time. Go now, James Rider, and find your place.”
Rider looked down again, the translucent outline of his legs growing with each passing second, and then the prism of colors solidified – as if frozen in a moment – and shattered into an infinite number of prismatic shards all across eternity. The tranquil silence of darkness embraced him once more.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A psychologist, author, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, Dan O’Brien has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, Deviance of Time, The Portent, The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow, and Cerulean Dreams.
Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog at http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He also works as an editor at Empirical, a national magazine with a strong West Coast vibe. Find out more about the magazine at:
www.empiricalmagazine.com.