That first raid on my village by the UnderWorlders... I still recall it so vividly. The memories are so detailed that it's like I'm reliving that night all over again. No matter how hard I try to repress them, they keep coming back. Could it be the work of something greater, demanding I be haunted by my greatest mistake until the end?
It starts with me and the children. Three of them in the village roads under a bright midday sun, laughing and playing with a throwing discus. One threw the thing my way, I caught it.
All was well in the village. Its location was picked carefully by the men and woman who built it, nestled deep in the woodlands neighboring the grounds of Bodhran. Many turns and forks in the dirt trails with no signs. What few evils who enter these trees become lost. We hadn't been attacked in many solans, and even then, the outsiders were exhausted by then and defeated easily.
Then came the hooves. A dozen of them, rolling up the trail leading into our village. The fear of those who first noticed were soon realized. Cold flames approached. Horned silhouettes leered inside—fiendish creatures on horseback. It was a scene lifted straight from an OverWorld horror tale—UnderWorld raiders and their skeletal steeds, stampeding towards us. Seldom do Chaor's soldiers make is this far into our territory. But every once in a while, they slip past the guardians of the border.
There is no way may luck can be that bad, I thought to myself. It was like a dream in itself, a nightmare. But there was no time for denial, they would be at the village gates in moments.
They were many and I was the only soldier in this village. There are others but none anywhere near the forest. Bodhran housed a few but they usually weren't inside, instead tending to missions far from the compound. I was outnumbered, outgunned.
I accepted the battle is lost before it could begin, reluctantly. With child in arm I fled with my people into the trees. The raiders didn't pursue us, thank goodness, more focused on our homes.
We ran and didn't look back. Only when some of us were about to faint did we stop. Pillars of black smoke rose above the trees. The brisk wind of that day carried the smell of burning wood. We heard the beasts cackling in their raucous UnderWorld voices, taunting us as they ransacked our homes.
Everyone was either livid or bawling, a few frozen in disbelief. I was all three at once.
We hid away in the thicker woodlands until the smoke and laughter stopped. They came at midda and left at dusk, but waiting felt like a whole day. I went back to the village first, in case they were still there. Luckily they hadn't, seemingly smart enough to not linger the OverWorld in one place for long.
The village, not to our surprise, was razed. Every last building laid in smoldering ruin. Almost all of our valuables were gone, each home picked clean like the skeletal remains of a Prexxori the splintered pieces of foundation, it looked like a cyclone had roared through.
Examining the damage, I stepped on something. Looking down I saw the fragments of a colorful discus.
And there I stood before that smoking debris, the remnants of what were my duty to keep safe. A village that took solans of toil to complete, undone heartlessly in a single afternoon.
Many emotions struck me at once. Distress. Embarrassment. Regret… Rage. So much rage. My soul was hot like the burnt reminder of my failure before me. This wasn't my first loss—no, far from it. But it was easily my worst.
So transfixed on the rubble, I didn't realize Vidav's presence until he stood right beside me. He was, is my closest companion, ever more so after the raids. Had we never became friends, I might not be here today. Those memories I repress, for they would only amount to my somberness. Only further distract me like the other moments of my past that haunt me.
The peacemaker heard of the raid too late to help, studying in the mugical archives at Castle Bodhran. Even Frafdo, a resident of the location for many solans still got lost in its contorted halls and paths from time to time. Even if news reached the fortress earlier, and regardless of how close it stood to the valley we resided in, it could have taken longer to get there with its bizarre layout.
Vidav tried comforting me, seeing and probably even feeling the rage that burned within my soul.
I ignored him, anger and vengeance clouding my judgment, and left without a word. For the raid had challenged something inside me, an aspect I refused to acknowledge… my arrogance.
It would influence my thoughts for the days to come… The days leading to our true end.
I have fought my share of UnderWorld raiders in the past. These were no ordinary pillagers, their pickings were through. The smarter ones knew relief would come to us, delivered while we were still vulnerable. Soon, they would return.
So, I needed to make a quest. Where to or why I told no one. Well, not the truth, at least. Anyone who inquired I lied to… even Vidav.
"Are you sure you wish to go alone, Hoton?" he asked me as I packed for the journey, worried for my health after the ordeal that still unfolded. As far as he knew, I was headed to consult a local seer for guidance amid our misfortune. "Maxxor's sentries still haven't located the raiders. And with their success, they won't be returning to the UnderWorld just yet."
I told him I was sure, that I wished not to get him involved, for the seer was difficult. That part was truth. Still, it was yet another choice I would soon regret, another that would also come to haunt me.
My reasons for this trip needed to kept secret, even to my closest friend. Nobody would approve what I was about to do—I was going to look for the teachings to an attack. Not just any attack, but one with immeasurable power, and potential for destruction. If the tales were true, Perim had never witnessed an attack of its strength until whoever created it. Those who bore witness to it were left so terrified that said teachings were destroyed. However, rumors of them remaining in the dark depths of some nameless cavern had been whispered for solans.
In some locations, even to say its name was forbidden… Allmageddon.
Many regarded this ability as mere myth, nothing more than a campfire tale. Others did believe it existed, fearing its storied power and possible discovery.
Their worries would soon be realized.
I left the village at daybreak, moving without rest until reaching its rumored location. Officially, It had no name. Many OverWorld wilds had yet to be named, perhaps due to the sloth of a certain mapmaker.
I surveyed every inch and under every rock and cliff for the storied cavern. There were many in this place, many dangerous. Most of them had either collapsed in many places, or looked like they would at any moment. Others were inhabited by creatures, but most were not the talking kind. A few couldn't talk at all, only answering wanderers with snarls and baring teeth.
As I searched one, under the relentless sun of a suddenly hot afternoon, a creature whose identity he concealed passed me by. Or at least, I think it was a creature. His armor was shiny unlike anything my eyes had laid on before, a fetching silver with these flowing robes of a reflective material I didn't recognize. His helmet bore these strange pieces. It was a dark blue I'd also never seen, covering his mouth and going up the center of his pointed headpiece. My tired mind pondered its usage, probably a crown. The best word I can describe for them is glassy and gridded.
"Huh. Not every day one of Maxxor's men comes out here," he remarked as if it were the most interesting thing he'd seen that day. He wasn't wrong, warriors had little reason to quest in these parts. Again, the land was uncivilized. The wilds, to the untrained were dangerous with their carnivorous and poisonous flora. Coupled with toxic water and dicey terrain, it was dangerous for said untrained and an inconvenience to us. Exploring that nameless location was something of a gamble, but that was the least of my confused worries.
"Yes, it isn't," I admitted, still observing his strange outfit and pondering its meaning. Ceremonial, perhaps?
"So, do I need to leave?" asked the stranger, breaking the quiet. "Is this area off-limits while you're here, or?"
"No," I answer. Curious question, but I didn't care. "In fact, I could use your help. Are you familiar with this location?"
"Not really. Only been here about five times now," the stranger explained, now holding something. Whatever the thing was, he poked at it with a metallic finger.
"Do you know a cavern with these markings?" I inquired, showing him the symbol. The mask concealed even his eyes, but I could tell it took him aback as he leaned closer, then looked back to me.
"So, you're going after that attack?" he asked, A pause between us. Turned out he knew already. His arms folded as he stared off. Following his gaze there is nobody, only a small lake that ripples from tiny critters grazing the surface. "Uh, Hoton, right?" he says, looking back to me. Him knowing my name was a small surprise, but if he were a local it made sense, my deeds were known well in this region. "Whatever you're seeking this power for, it won't be worth it. No one creature can handle that power. Whoever created that attack sealed it away for a reason. Instead of destroying it, for some other reason."
The stranger was right. An attack that could create such devastation, even in the most of delicate hands would be volatile. And what if it fell into the wrong hands? Who knew what disasters they could conjure with such power?
But none of that occurred to me, not while that rage inside blinded my judgment. I was too concerned with protecting my people, restoring my shattered image, my pride. Whatever this creature might have had to say, whoever he was, I also didn't care. He didn't answer my question about the cave, only turning away as if to let me reflect on my choices. For all I know, he did know where the Allmageddon was, but refused to say for a reason.
Of course, I found it without his help. Those days leading to the discovery went by quickly, me being obsessed with exploring the vast network of caverns. The space seemed endless but had many dead ends, many forks in the path and little to differentiate the narrow passages of tan earth. Occasionally it felt like a dream, wandering them. Those past few days had felt like one long nightmare. Like everything else, it was nothing more than a minor hindrance.
Even in a sublocation that clearly hadn't been touched by life in solans I was afraid of sleep. For all I knew, the creature who tried dissuading me from searching was in here, trying to stop me and probably not alone.
But if they were they failed. For eventually, I stumbled upon the final markings in the stories. A stone slab acted as a door for the chamber its teachings were contained. For what must have been days, I read from the scriptures, soaking in every detail with anger-sharpened concentration until I remembered their contents word for word. Then I left, sealing the place back up like it had been left for countless solans.
I returned to the village triumphantly. Vidav was there at the gate to greet me, glad to see me return. But it vanished when I spoke of finding the attack. A strange blue light distracted me from understanding why, shone by younger-looking creature in a bright cap. Instincts of mine warned of being watched during the trek home. My first impression was spy and I summoned a snare of vines to capture the hider but they disappeared in the same color light.
The second raid happened weeks later. This is there things become fuzzy. It is all a blur beyond hearing those dreaded hooves again. The villagers dropping their tools and bricks and wooden planks to head for the trees again. I believe I waited for them at the crumbled gates with a confidence. In my mind, in those last seconds, the raiders would raid their last village. No, they would die trying.
Indeed, their attempt was their last. I couldn't find a trace of them after… what came next. Neither could I find any for my people. Me actually channeling the attack has escaped me. Or perhaps I am repressing the memory? If so, I haven't tried to resurge it.
What happens next, though, I too remember vividly. That haunting, brief chaos engulfed by ephemeral but blinding light. Screams from afar that just stop. Trees snapping and critters squealing and screeching. Monstrous sounds, probably howls of agony from the raiders.
The light is gone as soon as it shines. Then, silence.
Next, I remember collapsing to the ground, my energy almost sapped completely. Deafened, my ears rung. Head rearing to the bleak gray sky, I screamed at the top of my lungs and still couldn't hear a thing over that sound of deafness.
My vision was hazy. Not that there was much to see anyway, beside the charred remains. Slowly, the world returned from being a fuzzy, monochromatic mess. But when it started to clear my eyes clam shut. I laid on my side in the bare ground, nothing feeling real. This cannot be happening, I recall repeating. My hearing returned too somewhat. There was only the crackling of fire, the crumbling of the village remains, the distant sounds of footsteps.
Footsteps. Who's, I wondered. With what little strength I had left I turned over to face the approaching creature. I met with someone in blue with a white face. Vidav. He definitely heard the explosion. My friend was keeping close to the village in the days between my return and then. Seeing him coming towards me in a sprint, alive and seemingly unharmed was as surprising as it was relieving.
Apart from the little noises of the rubble, all remained silent. The critters in the trees had gone quiet. There is no wind whistling. Vidav says nothing, only helping me up. He set me down on something, I think a rock, and turned to check the rubble and surrounding trees for survivors. But there was nobody, not anymore in the lifeless pit that was once a teeming valley. I knew there wasn't
Vidav realized this as well in seconds then returned to me. The terror in his golden eyes… I'd never seen it from him.
"Hoton?" he asked lowly. I coudn't muster the energy to look up, but I wouldn't look him in the eyes even if I could. The adrenaline and rage and denial in me had began to subside. In came the shame, the guilt and the sorrow. My vision blurred again as my eyes dampened. There is a saying among the UnderWorlders, one I'm not quite sure how I came to hear. Regardless, it entered, and now regularly enters my mind—what makes a grown creature want to cry? Well, what transpired today is a good answer.
"You found it, didn't you?" said Vidav. Another moment of silence. Just as I suspected, he knew the stories as well. If anyone apart from Najarin has read every found piece of Perim history, it's him.
My answer came as a slow, reluctant nod.
Releasing control I fell on my back. Tears soaked my feathered face as I sobbed. My cries were uncontrollable but it was pointless to stay quiet, nobody else was around to hear me besides Vidav.
Time had never passed so slowly, the clouded sun crawling so little towards the horizon.
"What have I done?" I asked myself, the blinds of hatred unraveling. My mind had cleared too late.
The memories after the explosion are also blurry. A fragment or two of me and Vidav, possibly Frafdo and other OverWorld warriors gathered in the valley. Honestly, they've all been forgotten or vague as of late. My energy has barely recovered even a while after the explosion. This attack required that much life force. Exactly how much time has passed, I don't know.
All those fragments start piecing together, up to now.
"Rebuild," I chant to myself, again. It is all that matters now in my life. "I must… rebuild."
I gather my strength and stand. My tired feet scuff across the desecrated soil where my village once proudly stood. I am beyond exhausted, both from the work and the All…
I cannot even think that word now. Not without my mind repressing it, too.
Despite the aching pain from days of almost nonstop work, my will gives the energy to keep going, the determination to rebuild what was lost. Perhaps it will be greater than before?
I reach my pile of bricks. Most I recovered from the explosion, while a few were lent from generous villagers from the nearby villages. My feathered arms take one, no two. They too ache, scraped from lugging the rough chunks of stone.
I know where each hut stood, who lived here. The one I'm rebuilding belonged to a mother and her twin sons. The father died solans ago, the victim of a dreaded serial killer said to leave only a faint, strange scent. They took Lomma's family too, I think. The father and I were friends from childhood, and watching his coffin being buried underground, I vowed to protect his family from a similar demise. The boys began to idolize me. Did they see me as a father figure?
All that remains of either, a single throwing discus. Its fetching colors stuck out in the greenery past the clearing, caught in the branches of a tall fruit bush. The sight those weeks ago gave me new strength, just enough to drag myself towards the discus to pluck it from the tangled arbor. Carefully I collected the toy, then just… stared at it. How long, I don't know. It certainly wasn't the same discus from the first raid, but I'd seen them tossing a second or third and only them.
Whenever I stopped, I trudged to where they played the day of the first raid. Grabbing my shovel, I scooped a shallow hole in the dirt. In the discus went to be buried, to never to be found by anyone.
Their neighbors had children, too. One, a chick with promise for the future. So young she was, yet so questioning of why the tribes war. Other villagers would scold her for this. This was before the M'arrillians-us who seek peace struggled to make our tribesmen listen. It is these very creatures who pass prejudice into the next generations and the cycle of hatred continues. Some aren't so quick to believe their family, however, like Vidav and I.
We both saw hope in this child, faith she would go on to end the fighting for good… She was another victim of my attack.
Slowly, I trudge to the former location of the village heart. Among its smoldering remains, one piece stands apart… the ruins of my home. Not just because it was mine, it was also my parents'. Both were the previous guardians of the village. They were brave to their last breaths, those in Castle Bodhran when a dangerous entity had broken in and cut down anyone who tried preventing her escape. She slew my mother first, then my father dove in after her…
I protected them all from such slaughter, driving away those who came with ill intent. Yet, in the end, the slaughtered I feared… it was me.
They did nothing to deserve such a fate and they know it. Their souls have the will to refuse crossing the threshold of the afterlife. Instead, they remain here, clinging to what they knew in mortality. Well, what is left of it. I cannot see this, but I can feel their presences in the air—frigid pockets in the warmth of midspring.
Raindrops peck and wet my feathers, snapping me from deep thoughts. A spring rain begins to fall from the brewing clouds above. My tears are redundant as it comes down heavy. But my work continues.
I press on, scuffing across the earth as it softens to fresh mud. My feet are bemired and cold and aching as they scrape across the earth. But they do not hold me back. The rebuilding will take solans and I want to finish as soon as possible, for them. It's the best I can do. Perhaps then they'll find peace and move on? Knowing their legacy has been restored? Or at least they'll calm. Sometimes, they can be aggressive—shoving, talons clawing down my body, just feeling a presence with primal disdain.
Distant voices speak behind and above me. Or next to me? I'm too lost in the comfort of my skull check my surroundings. They all sound young, except for one. It's Vidav, probably retelling what happened here, like the other handful of visitors who've come since. People would tell stories about this village, what natural wonders there were to sight see in the evening—glowing flowers and songs in the winds, their composer never found. Now, where it once stood, it is known only as the setting for a cautionary tale—the warnings words of Vidav about the ancient attack called Allmageddon. Warning how such power cannot be wielded by one creature, and the fruits of destruction it tempts with.
More shame brews within. But it isn't unexpected. Perhaps it just part of my castigation—the unspoken sentence for my wrongdoings? Could this really all be the intervention of some higher power? If so, they won't reveal themselves—I've begged them to speak to me, head to the stars and shouting madly. Nothing.
All I can do with certainty it will help is rebuild. Rebuild, and plea for forgiveness.
Forgive me, mother, father, I plea when Vidav isn't around. He must hate me as well. Forgive me, Vidav, I say next.
Forgive me, all of you.