Chapter Seventy-Six
With agonising heartbreak, Julius watched as beloved wife disappeared into the Aether. Her form misted away, like a swaying and sighing mist of gentle emerald light. She diffused into the air, leaving him behind, as her presence faded away from the world of Atreia – forever.
Only the warmth of her tears lingered against the skin of his neck. Only her final words whispered in his ears. Not even her blood remained behind, as that too, misted away into his aura, becoming one with him.
Despite her power, essence and existence merging with Julius's, he felt no warmth.
Inside, he felt his heart disappear, as Beralin died.
Regardless the power of ascension which surged through his mind, body and soul, and despite feeling the great expansion of his mind, existence and awareness as he became God and took Aion's place within the folds of the universe, Julius himself was hollow, for the one thing which mattered to him, was his heart.
And his heart was now gone.
Tears trickled down his cheeks.
You have left me behind, Bera, he thought with horrific devastation.
It had never been an opinion. It was a despairing fact, just as the fact now came to him that the world and heavens shifted in response to the ascension of the new God.
Julius had never wanted to be a God. He did not want the endless knowledge and power which came with it. Even though the knowing came to him in his newly evolved mind, of how to govern the world, of how to take care of the dead, and to give life back to the physical world, of how to heal the world, Julius did not want it.
He had never wanted it.
He just wanted Beralin. He just wanted her by his side, to hear her voice and laughter, to see her smile, and feel her hand in his.
" . . . my Julius . . ."
But his wish could never be granted, because he was Aion's Vessel, and she was Aion's Key. Their love had been doomed from the beginning.
Through time and space they had found each other. They had been Fated the greatest love the world had ever seen and witnessed, a pair in perfect harmony and unison, a pair of balance and equality, dancing together in an eternal dance which revolved around the other.
But at the end of their path, was nothing but blood, and loneliness. All because Julius had been chosen by Aion to take His place.
Aion Himself was now no more. Julius had taken His position in the celestial hierarchy of the universe, because Beralin had paved the way for his ascension.
To prevent a permanent destruction and oblivion of the world, to save them all.
Beralin gave everything that she was to him, so Julius could protect all which she could not.
Throughout her entire life, Beralin had fought to protect those around her. She had been strong, from the very beginning. But her opponents had always been stronger, because they had been Dragon Lords. They always found her, and Fate and Aion, had always put her there, to fight back, to learn and grow stronger.
However, it had never been without a cost, without a price. Innocents perished around her, caught up within battles too great for them. No matter how much Beralin tried to protect them, it was still never enough, and though she came to accept her defeats, the guilt remained on her shoulders. She carried the weight of the dead, as a reminder of what she had lost because she had not been strong enough.
Now, at last, she was finally strong enough, strong enough to fight Julius. She was strong enough to make the one decision no one else could.
Julius may have possessed the greatest mind, and the greatest power.
But it was Beralin who carried the greatest heart. She was strong enough, to make the hardest choice. Stronger even than him.
Julius knew she was right. With his newfound knowledge and understanding, he knew – with agonising and bitter admittance – Beralin had been correct. He could never have prevented the continuation of the Cataclysm by himself, no matter how much he told himself he could.
Only a God could heal a fractured world.
Julius will heal the world which was broken and divided, at the cost of she who was dear.
Julius closed his eyes, and the tears spilled down his face.
As if his sword had pierced his own chest, the agony within his shattered heart spread through his mind and body, leaving behind the gaping hole which would never be filled. He embraced the pain, for within the pain, was the horrific reality that he killed his wife with his own hands. Within the pain, was the devastating reminder of what she chose, of what she gave up, to ensure Julius's and the world's survival.
As much as Julius wanted to hate her, he never could. He knew he would love her until the end of time. He would never regret loving her, even in death.
But he could never forgive her, just as he would never forgive himself. Likewise she would not forgive him, for letting the world die.
Bera, he thought in grief as he rose to his feet. So rarely did you ever ask anything of me. But those fewrequests, I granted. Nothing was ever beyond my power . . . Even now . . .
He inhaled a choking, wavering breath of grief as opened his eyes, and saw with Aion's Sight, Julius's Sight. The Weave was there for him to see in its entirety, both in the material, and immaterial planes. His mind stretched across the entire world, feeling its life and its death. Julius was one with Atreia and all of its creatures, feeling their pain, their terror and fear as the Cataclysm swallowed the planet.
I will save and heal the world for your sake, Bera. Not for mine, nor for theirs. Yours.At last, through the Aether, you will see a world at peace, for that was all I ever wanted to give you. A peaceful world. No more war. No more suffering. No more grief.
Except his own to bear in hollow solitude.
Light erupted from Julius's body, as his physical form vaporised upon command, and he became an awareness, a concept and a thought, which spread through the Artefact of Aion's Tree. The Tree guided his power, as the roots and branches shot out in two directions through the Abyss, to the northern and southern bases of the Tower of Eternity.
The rest of Julius's awareness spanned through the Abyss, plucking all remaining Daevas from the realm and returned them to Elysea and Asmodae.
All Balaur, he swept through the Abyss and Balaurea, dissolving their existences as quickly, and as painlessly as a breath of wind, wherein their essences returned to the Aether in peace, their rage forgotten.
The Dragon Lords, Julius sealed them deep beneath Balaurea to deal with later. And Sudryl, Julius left alone. Fate still engulfed Sudryl for a purpose yet to be fulfilled.
Julius condensed the realm of the Abyss like an imploding star, gathering its energy into the Tree, to funnel into the northern base, where its light and life was reignited like a great furnace which roared and rumbled back into life.
With the resurrection of the northern base, the harmonics of the Tower began to sing its divine and harmonious song. Its notes were correct. Beautiful. The frequencies balanced and magnified each other in harmony, seeking the other, to pull back together to become whole once again.
Julius channelled his power through the Tree, his emerald light soaring through the rushing, reaching branches and roots, to connect to each fractured base. The two hemispheres pulled back together, and Julius corrected their position in orbit around the sun to bring warmth and life back to Asmodae, reminding them that their God never forsook them, never forgot them.
With the connection and fusion, a great crack of Aether shocked out through the atmosphere, as the Tree became the new Tower of Eternity, bound together in living nature, instead of stone, through Julius's power.
Red leaves sprouted from the stray branches, and pale pink blossoms bloomed at the tips, raining soft and gentle beauty down over the world of Atreia, as a promise in Beralin's blood which had brought life to the Tree.
The world will never be at war again.
It was over.
xxx
There was no more need for Daevas, because Aion no longer existed. Daevas were His weapons to fight back against the Balaur.
Now, with no Balaur, there was no war. Without war, there was no need for living weapons.
No more Humans will ascend to become Daevas. And those who were already Daevas, would remain to help rebuild the world.
Julius chose the new rulers and ambassadors of the world carefully. Of the Elyos, he chose the four remaining friends and family left to him, for he loved and trusted them the most. Of the Asmodians, he chose two of Azphel's and two of Marchutan's most trusted Generals and advisors.
They knew it was Julius who had become the new God, even though he never showed himself, and guided them gently through their minds. They obeyed him, with sorrow and love, for despite Julius's survival, they had lost him simultaneously.
Through the following years, Julius guided them on the path to remembering their roots and ancestry. No more hate and antagonism between the Elyos and Asmodians, as they were reminded once again that they were once one people, and still were.
Julius taught them to trust and love once again. To embrace each other as long lost family, as brothers and sisters, parents, children and lovers. For indeed, many were relations who had long since forgotten their blood ties to each other, and many shed tears upon their reunions, forgetting their cultural hatred and differences. They embraced each other, and brought love back into the world which had at last returned together, after being apart for too long.
The world of Atreia entered its Fourth Age.
As Julius guided and taught, he lingered forever close to the four whom had served and trusted him faithfully through the final century of Atreia's Third Age. He never took physical form again, even though he could.
He watched them take their duties in stride. Surion never wavered. Seregon balanced him as his most critical, but accurate advisor. Surion never managed to land a hit on their cold friend. And Michael and Amia finally married and had children, bickering even still through the trauma of childbirth.
The presences of the four helped fill the empty void left behind in Julius's heart. It could never be entirely filled. Nothing could replace the heart which had been taken from him. He gave the world love, peace, prosperity and joy.
But Julius himself, was filled with eternal mourning and grief. While the world found companionship once again, Julius was condemned to exist alone until the end of time. He could not follow Beralin into the Aether. Atreia had to have a God. The two existed as a symbiotic relationship. Neither world nor God, could exist without the other.
The world and its people sang of him as a God filled with love, care and benevolence; a God of emerald light and gentle joy.
None of them knew the cost which had had to be paid. None of them knew, nor ever would know, of the sorrow and despair their God carried with him in lonely silence.
The decades became a century. A century became two. Slowly, one by one, Daevas left the world, joining Julius through the Aether as they finally let go with peace in their minds. At long last, the Daevas could put down their weapons and rest. They were no longer needed in the world.
And once life and the world could function on its own through its slow and steady recovery, Julius finally turned his attention to the Dragon Lords he sealed to sleep beneath the lands of Balaurea. He passed over their sleeping minds one by one, feeling the history of each one and their original relationship to Aion. He felt Aion's echo of sadness, betrayal and disappointed pain. Aion's history, was Julius's history. Aion's knowledge and feelings, were Julius's.
Aion had underestimated how ambitious Fregion had been. Fregion, Meslamtaeda and Tiamat, had been hungry for power since the beginning. Beritra had remained selfishly aloof and neutral. Only Amaurea had remained loyal to Aion, and through her, so did Ereshkigal to a degree, because Ereshkigal had loved Amaurea.
Therefore, when the time and opportunity finally arrived, Ereshkigal turned on Fregion in the final battle, for it was only Ereshkigal's ice which could halt Fregion's destructive fire.
There had been a reason why Ereshkigal always seemed the most reasonable and distant of all the Dragon Lords. Because Ereshkigal harboured silent hatred. He had planned, for thousands of years, a way to one day get his revenge.
Julius entered only Ereshkigal's mind. Within the Third Dragon Lord's mind, Julius entered a dream, a memory. He was a floating awareness, joining another floating awareness, watching the peaceful scene before him.
It was the scene of a coast, where waves crashed against the rocks and sprayed sea-spray into the air. The sun was shining, but the air was cold.
Yet gulls flew through the skies, calling on the wind and surfing the gusts while peering down to spy fish beneath the water's surface.
Up on the rocks, were two figures, seemingly human at first. Except scales patched their skin.
One was a man. The other was a woman. The man sat atop a ledge. Tall and lean, with skin so pale it was white. His hair was silver, swirling about his head as the wind kicked it up. His icy blue eyes squinted only slightly against the wind.
His expression was distant, but soft with fondness and quiet love, as he watched the woman climbing up to him. Her skin was a beautiful and rare ebony, with long hair a warm, dark brown. Yet her eyes were as green as emerald – a mark of Aion's Sight and blood.
The First.
She was grinning, like a young woman, a girl, who was filled with joy and energy.
: Amaurea, Ereshkigal's sleeping awareness said from beside Julius's. One of my early memories of our times together.
Amaurea clambered up to him over the rocks with lithe agility, using one slender, clawed hand to grip the rocks, while her other carefully held a flower. She joined him up on the ridge and sat down next to him with a hearty sigh.
"I told you I would get it," she said.
Ereshkigal just raised an eyebrow. "So much hassle for just one flower."
"It is not just any flower. This is a sea holly. It is remarkably rare." She held up the flower. Its stem was pale green, as if white powder dusted across its surface. The leaves were the same, yet spiked and sharp. The flower itself was a globular head, blooming tiny blue flowers to make the sphere at its centre.
"Here, Eresh," Amaurea said, holding it to Ereshkigal. "It is yours now."
Ereshkigal gazed at her patiently. His hand did not move. "Why do you think I would want a flower, Amaurea?"
She grinned. "To remind you of me. The sea holly is beautiful, but also spiky. Likewise it also reminds me of you. Beautiful, yet ever so sharp."
Ereshkigal smirked ever so slightly in amusement. "The latter is more accurate"
"Indeed, which is why I want you to take it," Amaurea said simply.
Ereshkigal sighed and turned his cold and distant gaze back out to the sea. The wind brushed his hair from his face, caressing his skin.
"You know I cannot, Amaurea. Whatever I touch, dies to my frost."
Amaurea just smiled. "No. Not always, and not today." She gently took his hand with hers, and placed the sharp flower within hand.
Frost sighed over the stem, leaves and flower head, encasing it within ice. The sea holly became a silvery white flower, glittering with cold beauty in the light of day.
"The flower still lives, Eresh," she breathed. "Only it sleeps. And it will remain asleep, encapsulated in an eternal, frozen beauty. Keep it. And whenever you look at it, think of me."
She leaned up to him, and kissed him softly against his cheek.
No matter how cold Ereshkigal was, how untouchable his heart may be, Amaurea was the only one who could melt the ice and bring warmth to the coldest creature of Atreia.
: She was the fairest of us all. The most balanced. Aion's favourite, Ereshkigal sighed from beside Julius as he watched the memory of his younger self and Amaurea.
: What was she like? Julius asked.
: Balanced, in all things. As cruel as she was kind; as furious as she could be calm; as sad as she could be happy. Amaurea was fair, unbiased, and just, Ereshkigal murmured. It was her Fate to govern, guide and protect Atreia. She was of the natural order. But Fregion broke away. He poisoned the song of Fate and nature, and so the role Amaurea had been Destined for, was ripped from her in her defeat. Ereshkigal's awareness turned to Julius. You were left to pick up the pieces left at your feet. Beralin was not meant to have been your ascension. You were not meant to become God, Julius, just as Amaurea was not meant to fall. But no one else could have filled the role in her place. It had to be you.
Julius continued to watch the simple, bittersweet memory, to see two ancient Dragon Lords as normal people.
Sorrow touched his heart. Too many had lost those they had loved to Fregion's greed and ambition for more power. Too many carried the ever bleeding and gaping wound of a heart which had been torn from their chests.
Too long had the sorrow and legacy of Fregion's horror and fury lingered.
: Let us go, Julius, Ereshkigal's voice breathed, as soft as a windless night where snow fell peacefully upon a sleeping village.Too long have we lingered. Fregion, Meslamtaeda, Beritra and Tiamat, will not change. They – as well as I – have long lost the right to rule and govern Atreia. It is time, Julius, for us to rejoin the Aether, to let go of our furies and hatreds, and finally pass away.
In another time, Julius would have denied such a request, to ignore the words of a Dragon Lord, for it was the Dragon Lords who turned their backs on Aion, began the war and broke the world. They were the reasons for so much death and destruction, for so much bloodshed, suffering and pain.
They were the reason why Beralin was gone, and Julius was God.
But Julius could no longer hate. He was tired, and he was empty. He was cursed with knowledge, and within his understanding and endless mind, he found the capacity and ability to forgive.
If Julius wore a physical form, he would have sighed quietly. His awareness turned to Ereshkigal.
: I forgive you, Julius announced softly.
And with Julius's forgiveness, he released the souls of the Dragon Lords one by one, taking their anger, greed and hatred, bringing them forgiveness which softened their hearts with emotion they had forgotten, and never thought possible.
: Thank you . . . I am sorry . . . I am sorry . . . Thank you . . . Julius . . .Their voices wept with joy and shame, as Julius's forgiveness gave them the salvation they had not realised they desperately sought.
They sighed away into the Aether, taking with them all which was left of their mythical legacy.
Until at last, the Dragon Lords were no more.
Empty and hollow, Julius sank his exhausted and weary awareness through the deep seas to the sunken continent of Vengar and Cygnea. Within the haunted and beautiful ruins of Vengar, he hid himself away, where he then finally slept.
Only his subconscious mind lingered upon the surface to subtly guide, look after and govern Atreia.
Julius, finally, could stay awake no longer. He could not remain awake to a world without Beralin. He had fulfilled his role. He had completed the prophecy. He saved the world.
Now, it was time to sleep. Where his memories of his beloved wife could keep him company until the end of time.