“It’s been three years,” the One-King answered her, his voice turning tender.
“Going to sap more of my blood?”
“I must,” he whispered.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I am doing this for us.”
“For us? What more is there to gain? We survived. Please, Blekengor. Free me. Let me go to my Champion and prepare her and her people.”
Aster heard —or rather, he felt— the One-King move away from her, turning his back.
“Where is your Champion,” he asked.
“Where is yours, mighty One-King? I heard a couple of thieves snatched him and his mother in the night.” Such an insolent response, even after the mercies he shown her, she should be reprimanded, but curiously, none came. Aster pressed his back against the wall, listening in more intently. He slowed his breath, but his heart thundered inside. He could die for this or worse….
“Mine will die eventually as all of them do, and I’ll anoint another. Delays, only delays.”
“Then I wish him a long life, and maybe despite your ambitions, he prepares some corner of the world against Ragnarok’s push.”
“Then you’re happy to be slave?”
“We are alive. We still exist.”
“Eventide, tell me what do you feel?”
“I am exhausted, Blekengor.”
“And…”
“And cold.”
“And…,” the One-King’s voice rose.
“What do you want me to say?”
“What do you feel hanging there, shackled in the nude, clothed in only your sweat and fluids with nothing but the gawking walls to keep you company?”
“Shame,” she whispered.
“And so do I,” the One-King whispered in replied.
“Then release me and give up—”
“Shame,” he erupted, shaking the foundations, almost shaking apart Aster, body and soul. “How can we feel shame? Shame, Eventide. It was not but a while ago, we could stretch out our minds and fill our hearts with such mysteries of existence, satiate ourselves with ruin and creation, worshipers pleaded for our benevolence and we granted them honors…and now…. And now, I use words like ‘heart’ and ‘shame,’ this…filth…to describe a former self I find fleeting more everyday, everyday…. One day, I fear…I will forget myself entirely, and then who will I be, but only what I’ve been doing? A machine, serving an ever-dying species from a threat I care less and less because of an oath to a dead god. What difference would it have been if I had stayed behind? We lose ourselves either way.”
“It’s the way of things in this new place; a place foreign to us. We adapted and survived. Isn’t that the highest achievement of life? Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”
“‘Eventide,’ your name. Such a colloquial name. Do you even remember your old name?”
“We can’t go back. You know what hunts us there.”
“And yet, Ragnarok lives. How? Shouldn’t he have been consumed by now, and even more, he seems to have grown stronger—”
“Ragnarok instigates wars he does not fight,” Eventide spat; Aster envisioned venom smoking the floor from her mouth. “He lies and holds hostages; he plays with the foundations of our place and does so with this place, he may even have been responsible for inviting the Silence, and you saw what he did to many of the others, throwing them into the Silence—”
“And we are any different? How many of those who depended on us, who loved us, were left for the Silence?”
Not hearing a response, Aster pressed his ear closer.
“All of them,” his master answered.
“The Ragnars—”
“The Ragnars didn’t come with us. Dragons? Do you remember dragons from our old home? Don’t remember much of our old way, do you?”
“Not everyone could have followed us through, Blekengor. Even for us, Humenor proved that, and look at his anchor, that Impossible Tower. But if you’re so enamored with Ragnarok, join him, go back through the Dark Well yourself and leave us in peace.”
“No, join him, I will not do. For all I know, he may still harbor a vengeance against us for leaving him behind, but because he is our enemy, doesn’t mean we can’t learn from him. He still understands what we once were, what we still are. Instead of fleeing as we did, he remained, embraced himself, and perhaps has beaten his unraveling. …Perhaps, he has found a way to exist here as our former selves, without restrictions, without anchors.”
“And what of Gen Shemver’s sacrifice? Our oath to protect this world and not let the same thing happen here that happened in our place? That is what will happen, Blekengor, if you don’t release me. If we don’t prepare those who dwell here and face him at the Dark Well. Ragnarok will push through our door, and the Silence will follow him, and this place will unravel as did ours. The responsibility lies with us. Can you live with so many true-deaths?”
Aster closed his eyes and waited for his master’s response. Although he understand little of what was being said, he did understand that his master wished for some ‘wholeness’ to him; that he was limited in some way, perhaps by an old battle. But, Ragnarok? Surely, the One-King was stronger than that devil and his Nation of slavers. So many here in Drakendor were nearly the same anyway, slaves in all but name only. How much his master’s subjects suffered so the One-King could study; how much the Nobility were punished when they failed. This was all to save the world, wasn’t it? To find a why to close the Dark Well, end the Chills, and end Ragnarok’s threat? That voice in Aster’s head…he spoke lies, didn’t it? The One-King wasn’t doing this solely for himself, was he?
“I don’t want this place destroyed, Eventide,” his master began to which Aster sighed in relief. “Do you remember what they call me here? The Black Monolith, and that’s because my anchor, a black rock in the tundra of the Islands, grants my power to those who near it. The power to transmute the elements. I pondered on this for ages; so many years, I’ve lost count. Then it came to me, like waking from a dream, I remembered for a brief instance. There is another object that can transmute the elements. Do you remember? The stars in the heavens. That was my old name. Black Star. Eventide, compared to what we have lost, preventing one world’s destruction, a thousand worlds, a million worlds is not enough.”
“Then you’ll doom everyone to save yourself?”
“To save us, I place no cost on my brethren.”
No, master. No. I believed in you.
The End
(The Struggle Continues with Book Two: Ragnar Rising, expected before the end of the year)
A personal note from me…,
Hi Reader!
I want to thank you for reading my very first stab at writing an epic fantasy. I hope you enjoyed it! While writing and developing the ideas of this story, I happen to watch a lot videos by a Youtuber called The Exploring Series. He explains the lore of mythology and fiction in an entertaining way, and he’s done extensive Lovecraftian and Cosmic Horror videos. It wasn’t what I was going for, but I think it might have influenced this story a little. It’s a tough genre to write (I don’t have the skills for it yet). I find the best usually balance on the line between explaining too much and explaining too little. But, I’m a fan of that genre and I’m curious to know if it came across to you in this story. Drop me a message.
One thing I tried to extend to all my characters (and maybe in the future, this will change) is the idea that interesting characters are heroes in their own story, at least anyone who is interesting to write about, that is. Purely evil characters who only want the ill of others don’t make it far enough to be interesting, at least in my opinion. They don’t make friends and make too many enemies. Serial killers end up dead or in jail with nothing but the wake of their victims behind them. But, men and women who rationalize their bad behavior into some greater ideal are the truly dangerous (and interesting) in my opinion. They will go the distance and build empires, enslave peoples, and start great works in the name of some dis
tant good. That’s why I tried presenting Blekengor as someone who is saving his fellow gods from losing their identities, a rationalization of his fear of losing himself, and possibly destroy everything in the process. He is the hero in his own story, a tragedy of epic proportions.
This is already going long, so I just want to add that I can’t wait to finish up Book 2, Ragnar Rising. I know I’ve made some mistakes in this book. I’ve learned so much, but I promise, I’ll work harder to get better. And I invite you to join me on the ground floor by signing up to my Newsletter. I promise to value your time and I’ll only send you an email about once a month with announcements, cover reveals, and general fun fantasy stuff. And you’ll get a free short story, Josie and the Coming Shadows, just for signing up! It’s about Shadow Girl Josie Summer’s struggle to become a full member of the Coming Shadows.
And I’d love to hear from you, too. If you have a question, or found a nasty typo-gremlin, or *gasp* a universe destroying plot hole (Why doesn’t the good guy just use the backstairs up to the baddies’ throne room and take him down from there? I’m looking at you, Elder Scrolls: Skyrim. So, don’t let my characters suffer! Let me know!), or if you just want to say hi, please do and drop by from time to time with an email [email protected].
One last thing on a more serious note. This book holds special meaning to me because as you’ve seen in the dedication’s page, my mother passed away from heart failure on the morning of June 19, 2018 while I was still getting to know the world of Gen Shemver myself. One year later to the day, I released this book, hopefully only the first of many, many more. A coincidence that it worked out that way? As some of my characters would say, there are no such thing as coincidences. I hope she now understands why I had buried myself in this laptop so often…and maybe if she can give me some pointers from her high-up vantage point…on second thought, that would scare me half to death! But instead, a soft breeze on a rainy day, reminding me of a happy memory of her would be good enough for me.
If you’ve enjoyed the story, please take a moment to leave a review! And tell me what you liked about the story and what you’d like to see more of. Help get the word out to others that might like this too!
And for my fledgling social media stuffs:
Facebook Page and Website.
Follow me and say hi!
See you for Book 2: Ragnar Rising
And thanks again,
God bless with all the best,
Mike DeSousa
Now! *drum roll* For the Credits:
(Just imagine the ending music of Zelda: A Link to the Past playing in your head, or if you’ve never played the game, imagine a nostalgic encore song.)
I’d like to thank my family, friends, and all those who supported me through this work with encouraging words, food, beer, and a listening ear. In particular, Marina ‘Luna’ Raye for the cover art (Seriously, check out her work. She even has a cool sexy vampire epic fantasy webcomic in the works too!) and Mike ‘Magus Mar’ Magaraci for all the help drinking my ideas(and developing some beers)…yea, I think I got that right. Kritter ‘Yushiro’ Hoffman, who I’m pretty sure is a dragon shifter in hiding. Tim ‘Alucard’ Grudzien, who seems to know way too much about vampires and the undead. Oh, and Navi the cat, for being patient with me as I took her humans Mike and Marina’s playtime away from her.
Yea, fine, Navi. She wants you to know her full name is Navirah and that the whole dragons having two hearts idea was her. Oh, and that you can find pictures of her on Marina’s artwork Facebook page Guardians of Mana. Cat photos? Now there’s another reason to check out her work! And leave a comment there saying I sent you there and that Navi should get a treat. (That should get me back into her good graces.)
And one last thanks to you, the Reader, without whom this wouldn’t be possible!
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 74