Walkswithwheels: Hey everyone, school's out so Walkswithwheels will be doing a lot of updating!
Lyseria: That is good to hear.
Xehnon: I do know the readers will most certainly enjoy it!
Archer: Hey, why am I not named in this chapter?
Walkswithwheels: Because that's what I want!
Lyseria: Now now, listen to the authoress.
Archer: *growls*
Xehnon: Walkwithwheels does not own anything other than what she makes up. everything else is property of their respective companies.
Lyseria: Please read and review! Oh, and make sure to read the Author's Notes at the end of the story to get a better idea what is going on.
8: One's Own Way
The eerie silence surrounded us all like the uninviting mist. It draped over my compatriots, darker than the thickest curtain. The temperature inside the place was adequate, but one could have never known. The cheery sounds of the market day were like a distant memory. In truth, Antarctica could be rivaled for the cold, and the atmosphere demonstrated more foreboding than death itself.
In particular, one person now comprehended the true meaning of agony.
Fraudir's face had blanched a horrible shade of pale, and even sheer force of will couldn't save her this time.
Her cheeks swelled, and she covered her mouth preemptively. Fraudir clutched her stomach with her free hand, fixing it to herself like a claw. Fraudir's stomach also bulged dangerously, and she was already beginning to lean over. Luckily, I was ready for what came.
Without even thinking, I cast a stomach spell.
Fraudir froze up, realizing my intentions.
"Relax, relax." I murmured.
That seemed to do the trick, as Fraudir obeyed instantaneously.
Nodding, I rapidly and invisibly unwound the knot in her stomach. It was bound quite tightly, but no match for me.
Fraudir's hand detached itself from its position on her stomach, freely falling to her side. With the other hand I also found success, as she lifted it from her mouth. Fraudir's cheeks returned to normal size, and her stomach did the same. Slowly, she straightened herself up, her face flushing with relief.
I shot her a smile as my spell completed its work. Fraudir returned the favor, clearly grateful for my sudden action.
It seems my magic had another desired effect, as it broke the veil of silence.
"So, I guess you really do want to help that kid." Ehlen began.
"But willpower is useless if we clearly have no place to start." Aaron pointed out.
"Well, she said "meet me at the temple"." Richelle remembered.
"But that doesn't make any sense! We're in the middle of the village, and why would people go to a temple on this day?" Rorando threw up his hands.
Of course, I understood the answer to the question. It was lengthy and complex, but at this moment I decided to keep it simple. We did not have time to fool around.
"I would know." I interjected.
"How, Glory?"
"I've possessed powerful farsight ever since I was a child. The girl's answer is understandable, because she obviously is aware that we will eventually reach this temple. She would not have mentioned a location if she was not certain the events would occur. Otherwise, we would refuse her request."
Yes, that was an excellent response, and all of it was true.
Well, except for the part about being a child.
Luckily, the mortals couldn't see through that.
I rapidly brought myself back to the present as my companions began to speak.
"Even if we understand the sayings of the girl, we still don't know where to go. There aren't any temples in the vicinity, and she never mentioned a specific place." Ehlen pointed out.
"Well, we could ask around the town. I am sure someone has gone to pray." Richelle put an opinion forward, but it seemed rather doubtful.
After all, who would we ask? We had no lead.
All that changed within a single moment.
The presence of others pierced my senses, specifically Seers.
Unfortunately, it was layered with distress. However, it did not radiate any specific emotion, as my doppelgänger had before. Rather, the emotions were all mixing, blending in with one another. It was impossible to single out only one.
Yet, there was a factor that remained constant.
Intensity.
Whoever was radiating these sentiments was intent on expressing them to their fullest capacity.
No, an emotion examination would not help me.
The power must be analyzed in its rawest form.
In order to get a better idea, I would have to close the distance.
My eyes already became caught up in my power's trance as I ambled forward. It was clearly noticeable as my somewhat unsteady gait also reflected my desires.
My companions immediately took heed, concerned faces focusing on me.
"Glory, are you all right?" Aaron asked me.
Instead of responding, I thrust out my hand and closed my eyes.
Rorando attempted to protest, but Richelle silenced him with a finger to her lips.
"Shhh… She's concentrating on something…"
Richelle did not whisper, but in my trance I could barely hear her voice. My golden light surrounded me as I utilized my abilities again.
My companions' flabbergasted eyes widened, and gasps emerged from their mouths.
"Another... power of... the Goddess…?" Rorando could barely get his sentence out.
"So soon?" Ehlen followed, having an easier time.
"Isn't that unsafe?" Richelle let the question leave her, but it remained unanswered.
After all, I was long gone.
The energy entered me in waves, and I received it, as before. However, these waves were quite unlike my previous encounter. The physical manifestations were no longer. No flashing lights came to me, and I did not take off from the ground. The mixture greeted my senses, but it was not a pleasant one.
Anger, sadness, confusion, all the negative emotions of the world rolled into one. Instead of being subdued, they were amplified by their collision. It seemed it would not stop, as the source simply intensified.
I could also detect the recklessness of it all, revealing to me that the power was simply emitting itself with a mind of its own.
A person who was intentionally controlling emotion or power would give off concentrated signals. While the waves could be choppy or increasing, they possessed a sort of inherent calmness, the likes of which is undetectable to normal minds.
Unfortunately, it was not the case here.
The first few waves were forceful, but they did not concentrate on a single target. Instead they went all over the place, as though the emotions were directed at us. At times the waves were small, but their vibrations were no less powerful. Instead of passing over me, the tinier waves went right through me, making my body tremble. It shook me like an earthquake, as though I was shivering in the cold. The sensation was ephemeral, but it did not giving me break. The waves suddenly swelled like a balloon with air, threatening to topple the place and me with it.
Luckily, while this person was wreaking havoc, someone else was trying to halt it.
The erratic waves were intercepted by collected, flowing, ones. They stayed the same, in stark contrast to the others. The radiating power brought with it a warm sensation, demonstrating that the owner had remarkable composure and tolerance. The person did not go all out on the attack. Rather, the owner occasionally rose up in strength, attempting to combat the enemy. Here or she did so slowly, so as not to alert the aggressor and provoke further attacks. By being in sync, one could play both offense and defense. Giving in to the whims of the mind would only make the situation worse, so this person was playing it safe. Soothing sensations could win people over, and remaining static could be a warrior's greatest weapon.
This power would surely outdo the chaos that was going on.
Unfortunately, this is was not to be.
The waves from the other simply absorbed that which was being used against it. They drowned them, completely overpowering the opposing sensation. Nothing could stop the mighty whirlwind, despite hopeless efforts. The calming waves shattered like glass, into tiny shards that would never be put back together. Clearly, the aggressor saw straight through the defense and penetrated with ease. The helpless defenders sent out more ammunition, but it was no use. The other waves were completely suppressed and annihilated as the owner was left unharmed in the field of battle. The attacker threatened to destroy its opposition, and possibly take us with it.
I needed to feel no more.
Only one thing could generate sensations like this.
This was a fight.
I could sense no physical contact, so this had to be verbal combat.
Still, someone could still be wounded, and the injuries could be worse than blood.
The fight was not far; the power had provided a clear path. I should be able to reach it before any serious harm was done.
Rapidly, I snapped my eyes open and returned my arms to my sides.
"Glory, what did you-" Ehlen attempted to ask me, but my flustered yelp stopped him.
"Ah!" I cried before dashing out of the restaurant.
"Well, I guess we'd better follow her!" Aaron responded and the others gave chase.
Unfortunately, I did not pay heed to them.
My frantic footsteps could clearly be heard as I ripped up the ground. I had lost my wings; perhaps they had been clipped. Then again, the hurried beats of my feet suggested that they were not useless, merely damaged. The shock of fright had disabled them, but perhaps they were coming back. My mouth filled with the saliva of desperation, and it took all my strength not to leave a steady stream of drool in my path. My arms swung too and fro, and I played the precarious game of trying not to trip over my own feet.
Even more distressing than the current situation was the prickle of dread when I realized where I was going.
Everything was different, and I wondered how I could remember the area at all.
I was not running on air, owing my current actions to stupidity.
Instead of cheerfulness and laughter, I was greeted by the sickening aura of tension and conflict.
I still possessed a madman's fervor, but no one would think me mad now.
Unlike before, I had hold of my senses, perhaps even too much.
In my previous encounter, I led the race, and could stop it whenever I desired.
The price for losing was simply buying food.
Yet I trailed behind here, perhaps inviting fatality.
After all, everyone knew the stakes were high when one was competing against time.
Not a single soul would join me this encounter; no overstocked stores would greet me.
I would have to trudge into the battlefield alone and unaided.
How ironic that I was eager to come!
As I hurtled towards my destination, I slid sloppily around the corner, barely holding myself up.
As the place of choice loomed in front of me, I realized I had one single luxury.
I wouldn't have to worry about that doggone clock.
I tore through the village and into the center square; my erratic gait earning a few stares. I stood, breathless in fatigue, focusing straight ahead.
The waves nearly choked me now as they force themselves up my nostrils. The blending of emotions could not be more intense. Yet, what was once blurred and without shape had now become clarified. I could now sense the distinct combatants of the conflict, as well as each owner of the waves. I was battling my own foe called exhaustion, so I should have been instantly detectable. However, the mortals seemed too preoccupied in their fight to notice me. They consisted of a trio, but they could have been 300.
The verbal sparring did not seem to be ending anytime soon.
I took a few cautious steps closer, hoping to identify the root of the problem and get a better idea of who exactly these mortals were.
Luckily, there was one I did not need to scrutinize, and despite the situation, it filled me with relief to see her again.
She portrayed herself as renowned Seer, and bore far and wide the name Lyseria. Among her own, she was known as Sorcery's Epitome. Yet Lyseria was just as powerful with the magic of words as she was with that of traditional means. I have no doubt it was she who had radiated the soothing energy that had attempted to break up the fight.
Unfortunately, I realized that she would recognize me automatically; she had the perceptiveness to detect me no matter what guise I was in.
However, I also understood that Lyseria had quite a bit of respect that one would typically give to a trusted friend. She would not reveal me, honoring my wishes. Most likely, Lyseria would ask me about my problems later, using her wisdom and maternal instinct to solve them.
If she decided to join me on my journey, then I could feel comfortable for its duration.
I hadn't seen Lyseria in years, but she looked as well as ever.
Despite her rank, Lyseria dressed modestly.
Her long golden hair was tied off by simple red ribbons, and the short slight braids draped down her shoulders in the front. The rest of her hair was tamed by her accessories, but still flowed down her back. Instead of elaborate clothing, Lyseria chose to wear a series of shawls. An orange one was draped around her arms, the cloth resembling sleeves. Underneath the orange were two more layers of the same colored shawls. These ones were slightly finer, the black color contrasting well with the red diamond pattern. Below the shawls, a plain gray dress made itself known. However, the unassuming color and the fact that it was covered up by other clothes explained that it was merely used to block extremities from view. Lyseria did possess golden boots, but they were faded from years of use. Knowing Lyseria, she'd probably traveled everywhere with them and then some. It was obvious she bought them for their toughness, not the fashion statement. I wondered why she had not discarded them, but reparative magic could fix just about anything, and Lyseria knew plenty of that. Her dark eyes patiently surveyed the situation, the previous relaxed aura brought to life within the deep pools.
Lyseria would exercise her patience, even in the most hopeless of situations.
Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the man she was directing her energies toward.
I could see from his bow that he was an archer. However, I also realized that he was a Seer, so he was far more skilled than ordinary bow users. Indeed, his large gray and black bow looked like it could take out the world, and the quiver on his waist seemed to be filled with countless gray arrows. The archer's furious face was as red as his hair (although some mortals might call the former brown), and one didn't have to take three guesses to know that he had started the fight. His light blue eyes burned with the flames of rage, and they wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. The archer's dark black clothing only amplified his hostile manner; the color black wasn't considered a good thing among mortals, after all. He also had on gray underclothing with a white collar, but it was too concealed to draw attention. One thing I did notice, however, was that he did have a bluish purple sash hanging from his clothing. It looked humorously like a tail, and I wondered why it wasn't mended or removed. Then again, maybe it was supposed to be that way. Mortals had some strange fashions.
The third combatant, another Seer, proved my point. He was obviously a mage, but he looked almost like a cleric.
Then again, considering his waves almost outdid Lyseria in serenity (which, mind you, was quite a feat), maybe it meant to be that way.
Reading his disposition more thoroughly, my face broke into a wide grin.
Of course the clothing was fitting!
This man would go straight to my graces, no questions asked. He was indeed a servant of mine, and he carried out his duty faithfully. It was a wonder why I didn't recognize him immediately; then again, he'd been just a tiny boy (at least by my standards) when he had decided to walk the path of Seers.
I hid a chuckle; a tiny, shy boy, always hiding behind his mentors whenever I graced them with my presence.
It didn't bother me of course; the humble ones were needed to keep their excited compatriots in check.
But the mage showed no modesty now.
He had no need.
He was Xehnon, the Noble Sage, and he did his duty proudly.
That would also explain his choice of dress.
Xehnon wore mostly white, although he did have some darker underclothing. His second layer of clothing was purple, with golden patterns abound. There were some patterns on his original white clothing, but they were limited to his shoulders. The shapes and forms mostly resembled diamonds, except for one on the bottom that reminded me of flames. Two tassels draped from his neck downward, stopping where his underclothing began. Their diamond patterns contrasted well with each other, and enhanced the overall features of his clothes. The hood of a cloak covered Xehnon's head, the only thing that gave away his proficiency in magic. He normally kept a tome out with him, it was not visible now (for the better, in my opinion). One could see only the bangs of his blond hair through the hood of Xehnon's cloak. His green eyes flickered, cautiously anticipating the next move his verbal opponent would make.
I had no doubt he was the middle ground, trying to keep things cool and simultaneously his guard up.
It was wise for me to do the same, I reasoned, as my revealing my presence now would only escalate the fight. I must wait for the proper moment, then strike rapidly like a snake.
Gingerly, I ducked out of sight and watched weaponless battle rage.
I did not have to wait long for the action, because the agitated archer immediately picked up his verbal sword.
"I'm telling you, that one no different from any of the others!"
I blinked in confusion. Who was the archer referring to?
"You are sorely mistaken. She is not evil; the only ones that make Her malevolent are twisted followers." Lyseria spoke up, her tender voice giving hope to the prospect of an effortless victory.
I clenched my first. So they were referring to me!
What Lyseria spoke of held true; not just for me, but for any of my lesser creator gods. Leave it to her to have well-placed wisdom!
Unfortunately, there was no wisdom to be said in the next comment.
"Of course we would hear such words from Her pampered pet! She has deluded you into taking Her side! She probably handed you everything on a silver platter!"
My fist grew even tighter.
I do not bias my followers, and Lyseria was anything but spoiled!
The next opinion thrown out into the open made me raise my eyebrows as well, despite the fact that it was not openly mocking me.
"I think the Goddess is a neutral entity."
Neutral? How could that be so? No one was emphasized as the paragon of a kind heart more than I.
Apparently, I wasn't the only one confused.
"Neutral? Do you even know what you are saying?" The archer yelled.
Lyseria broke from her composure and beheld a countenance of complete bewilderment.
"Xehnon, please elaborate. Even I do not understand your case in point."
Xehnon nodded, complying with the requests.
"The Goddess is like the natural fires of the forest. These fires are seemingly unwanted, and destroy countless inhabitants. Yet they are actually a symbol of rebirth. They recycle what is old and dying, making way for new life that shall replace the old. Our Goddesses is like these fires. Sometimes, She must discipline Her people. Of course, no one wants to be punished and believes his own side is justice. These acts spread, turning people against Her. However, by temporarily taking the way of darkness, she is actually making room for more light. New life arrives where the old has fallen, and balance in Her kingdom is once again restored. Thus, by performing these acts, she is getting rid of the cursed souls, and protecting the righteous."
I cocked my head. What a strange analogy!
It seemed my opinion was shared, however.
"Xehnon, your ways are insightful, but I still don't think they're correct. You liken Her to someone who is simply weeding out that which She does not desire. You're also saying that she conceals Her acts as nature's way, which is simply not the truth. Profound though it may be, I cannot accept your theory."
Lyseria did have a point. The theory sounded rather harsh and barbaric.
Still, it was an interesting one.
I was a Goddess, not a dictator. It was not my task to turn my people into religious zealots. Xehnon was free to believe whatever he wanted.
As I thought about this theory, I was reminded of something else rather fascinating that my people had concocted.
One scientist had put forth an idea of why nature was as it was. He called his idea "natural selection", claiming that only those with superior traits would be allowed to survive in nature. I enjoyed the explanation, because it had quite a bit of truth despite being only a fledgling theory. The man went on to expand his works, putting forth other interesting concepts as he tried to figure out the world around him. In the end, he came up with something quite fascinating, although the search was not completed.
Unfortunately, like everything else in life, people took it too far.
Some spurned the theory, calling the scientist a madman. Alone, this was fine. The theory made almost no mention of the creators, so of course people would be riled up by it.
In fact, the scientist had lost his faith when his daughter had died so the theory may have been influenced by that; I would not condemn him for things which were out of his control.
Yet now the people were trying to force these opinions onto others. Those who supported the deities made up grandiose explanations as to how the creators placed objects in the world. They scoffed at everything that said otherwise and called the achievement a lie.
Of course, there was the other direction.
Some people called this man pure genius, and applauded all of his work. This was also fine, because it is natural to be proud of others' achievements.
Yet, the people stuck their noses where they shouldn't of.
The supporters of this theory tried to fill in the holes themselves, and pronounce their findings as fact. Yet all of these attempts were frauds, as one cannot simply force a theory to be complete.
Unfortunately, the falsified information was enough to sway the masses, and many took it to be true. Some even tried the theory out themselves, leading to lawbreakers and murderers.
What was even worse than that was that the supporters took the tragic incident that helped shape the theory and used it for themselves.
They claimed that since science could supposedly solve everything, then the creators should not exist. Believing in me or any other creator god was considered a fraud, and the only way out was through pure science.
The dogs of war came, as many flocked to each side. The debates raged day and night, and only became uglier with time. Verbal swords clashed, breaking through the toughest of shields. Friendships were embittered, scars inflicted, and damage done that could never be repaired.
Why must my people fight about something so silly?
Yet, what was even worse was the impact on the younger ones.
Children were indoctrinated either way, becoming soldiers at the youngest of ages.
They picked up their weapons and gladly joined the fight, battling against their friends and the authorities.
At a time when children should have been forming relationships, they were destroying them. Anyone could be an enemy, and what was breaking out was nothing short of a civil war.
It was a wonder I wasn't wallowing in grief.
How could my people live their lives while squabbling over something so petty?
It just didn't make any sense.
It was like this fight, which in itself was becoming senseless.
"Can you not see it? She just doesn't care!" The archer screamed.
"How can you say that?" Xehnon yelled back.
"You know as well as I do how f***** up things are right in today's world! If the Goddess is clearly watching over us, then why doesn't She help us now?"
I cupped my hand over my mouth.
Vulgar.
Things were surely getting out of hand.
Lyseria tried to salvage the situation, but it was far beyond her capacity.
"If She controlled everything, we would have no freedom. Losing one's freedom is the same as losing one's life. The Goddess cannot sway everyone to Her side; it is simply impossible."
The archer yowled like a cat, his anger clearly overtaking him.
"Is this freedom? Is this the world She has envisioned for us?"
"If we follow the Goddess, we will surely reach perfection, as She has. But in order to do that, we must endure the trials of this world. That is why the Goddess created for us."
I rolled my eyes.
Why did Xehnon always take the middle of the road?
Perfection. There was no such thing.
To be "perfect" meant to be flawless, but what if lost the capacity?
What then?
There was no answer for that except to strive to be "perfect" again, and pretend the mistake did not exist.
Oh, the false path it led one down!
Besides, the word "perfection" was as fragile as glass.
To be "perfect" also meant to be the best.
However, everyone had different concept of that.
What might be the best for one would be horrid for another.
Where was perfection then?
Nowhere.
Out of all the words in the mortal language, I never knew one as empty as "perfect".
Empty, like the scene going on around me.
"If the Goddess is so d*** perfect, why doesn't She just fly down here and do away with all this s***?" The archer screamed.
More vulgar, and that evil word.
Thank goodness there weren't young children around.
"Because there are some things that can only be solved through experience. We must use our own knowledge to figure out today's problems; that is one of our trials." Xehnon began calmly, but I could sense his emotions escalated into a fever pitch.
Lyseria was keeping quiet, so I assumed that she could do nothing more.
It wouldn't be long now.
"Well, I don't see them being solved any time soon!" The archer howled.
At this point, Xehnon lost all his composure, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"They will be if everyone tries!"
What followed was one the harshest insults my ears had ever picked up.
"Well, I think the Goddess believes we are in the way and wants us all to die!"
I'd heard my fair share of verbal abuse, and I simply took it as part of the job.
My people could be ignorant if they so desired; it wasn't my role to force them into anything.
Yet this was beyond ignorant; this comment was simply madness.
If I wanted my people to die, why would I choose to exist in the first place?
Yet what stung even more is that I knew the archer wasn't completely blinded by anger.
The comment was exaggerated, but there was some truth tucked deep within his heart.
Despite the fact that it was impolite, I'd previously read a little bit into what was behind his emotions.
He had a horrible experience with my fellow gods, and that was why he was acting out against them here.
I had chosen to read no more for fear of being discovered.
Then again, that was really all I needed to know.
It took all my strength to keep my own face from becoming a blazing red.
I'd had enough.
I took a slight step, preparing to intervene.
However, before it could do a thing, the situation went from bad to worse.
I recognized familiar footsteps, and dread overtook my heart.
This battle would only get bloodier.
I ducked back into my hiding place as the next combatants entered. They already had their weapons unsheathed (or in the case of Rorando and Ehlen, literally), preparing to jump into the situation without a second thought.
Richelle immediately struck the first blow, hitting home against the archer.
"How dare you blaspheme against the Goddess? You cannot possibly call yourself a human being!"
Ehlen launched a follow-up attack on the target, and his sword looked ready to do the same.
"You are a disgrace to all Seers! You go against the creed in which you were taught!"
Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, Fraudir changed tactics, taking aim at poor Lyseria.
"You! She has chosen you, yet you do not serve Her as you should! What would She say if She saw the one She had blessed standing there dumbly?"
Lyseria did not retaliate; how could she against something so stupid?
Yet, Rorando seem to like he was about to outdo Fraudir in idiocy.
He intended to flank Xehnon.
"I've never seen a mage look like a cleric before! You must have a cleric's combat skills, because you are clearly ill equipped to win the fight! You probably have a death wish! What would the Goddess say to suicide?"
I made a face. That argument made no sense at all!
Xehnon simply stood, shocked as he should be.
Aaron attempted to reason, but it was too little, too late.
"It is not right to take out your feelings on others!"
"Shut up, blundering fool!" Xehnon hollered back, doing exactly what Aaron had cautioned him against.
Aaron's agitation was finally revealed as he hurled himself into the fight.
There were words spoken since, but I did not bother to detect them. It was all a blur, jumbled words that meant nothing even if one understood what was spoken. All tones were raised, the bridge dangerous to cross over. Unfortunately, I knew it would never be lowered. The redoubling echoes only increased within time; everyone was slowly losing control. There was no way I could pick up on any emotions now; they were all tangled together in an untidy heap.
I had to halt this.
I could take a few steps closer and remain undetected in all the chaos.
As I prepared to take the action, a flash caught my eye.
With that, I immediately charged back into my hiding place.
I placed my hand over my chest, silently wondering why and how things had become so brutal.
It seemed my actions were too late.
The red fluid I had seen arcing through the air proved that.
13
Author's Notes: Glory's concept of perfection comes from my own ideas which are heavily influenced by Jonathan Livingston Seagull. it is also worth noting that the conflicts going on mirror those in today's world, but most of them are exaggerated into what if scenarios. The only one that is not exaggerated is the religious conflict, since people are still asking questions and getting into fights today.
For instance, the drinking age in the previous chapter is actually based off of a real-life event. Many people, particularly young ones, were upset that the drinking age in the US is 21 when all other privileges are available at the age of 18. This started a movement to decrease the drinking age, and it became very popular to the point where it made national headlines . I'm not sure how far it got, but in this universe, it is showcased what might happen if the movement succeeded and was vigorously defended. the problems that Glory explains come from real-life stories of people who lived in the time when the drinking age in the US was 18 and also from people who live abroad and encounter a serious problem with irresponsible drinkers because the age is too low.
The theory Glory speaks of is actually that of Charles Darwin and evolution. She also references both sides of the evolution-creation debate. While the conflict is exaggerated, the problems with the debate are real, and much of what she is talking about has happened to me in with my peers and teachers (since I don't sway too far in either direction). Her neutral views as well as her sadness reflect my own, further explaining her role as an author surrogate.