Chapter -28: Ask Me Why

Time marches on, a behemoth of incomprehensible scale and design.

Every step it takes sees civilizations rise and fall to be turned to dust upon its heels.

New life is born, it populates, it terminates, it builds, it destroys. Then it becomes one with the wind carried by the force of time's rising sole.

All this to say that a mere moment in a person's life is insignificant to the wider universe.

Yet for Darnia Stratos, this one "insignificant moment" had once been his universe, and all he ever knew.

He stands at the edge of the floating lands he calls home, basking against the subset hue.

He was not the spry man he once was. His skin was wrinkling, his eyes constantly plagued with crumbs at a more frequent rate, his hair graying like clouds before a storm.

And in his eyes he watches his faithful companion Moses hang in the air close to the city, no longer the majestic bird that soared over the cyan horizon.

He was still a loyal friend, but spent his days resting on his perch and being spoiled on the treats he provided for him.

As they grew old, the city became new. He turned to his home and its smoother roads and growing populace. Gaps in the landscape had been filled and plants were allowed to blossom in the cracks.

The feeling of home wasn't lost to progress, its soul was undying. If anything, it is stronger now more than ever.

The land was healing. Who would ever believe it? Certainly not who he used to be.

He owes these feelings to a variety of factors, but none deserved it more than his wife, Misty.

He returned home from his long walk to find her finishing cleaning up in the kitchen and heading to the living room to rest in her chair and gaze outside.

Her hair was graying and borderline white in some areas. She was in her early sixties but smiled like she was still thriving with youthful vigor. Her tenacity was only outmatched by her kindness.

She started to cough, every output sounding like rocks grinding against her throat.

His heart ached, for every instance of this felt like another grain of sand dropping from her hourglass.

Yet she dug her wrinkly fingers into life's fabric and kept smiling at the horizon. She was giving everything she had to offer to stay alive, and lord help him he would be there as her support physically and mentally.

"Dear, let me clean the kitchen once in a while. You should rest." He offered in a weary tone.

She slowly shook her head and faced him with a faint glimmer in her eyes, "You have bigger things to worry about than a few dishes."

His eyes were tender, his voice shivering to maintain warmth, "Never."

He bent at the knee and she reached out to caress his fluffy beard. Her eyes met his, just as they have thousands of times before.

A spark may flicker and waver, but it never dies. As long as they could see, their vow of love was eternal.

Their conversation then steered towards the other proof of their love, as Misty remarked, "Sarajin was here earlier."

"He was?" Darnia sounded stunned and a little hurt.

"He wanted to see how I was doing. I kept myself up the whole time so he wouldn't dote on me."

"Misty…"

"Don't start a lecture Darnia," She said in a stern voice, "If our son can power through his most painful experiences, then as his mother, so can I."

"He's going to find out someday." Darnia worried.

To which she smiled and rubbed his cheek, "I'm sure he's piecing it together. Which is why…it's important I keep up a strong front. Because the last thing on his mind should be whether I died with regrets."

"Regrets…" Was a word that followed Darnia like pests swarming his head.

He appreciated the life he's had, the child he's raised, and the efforts he has taken to make the world a better place twice over.

But he'll never forget that one temptation, that beautiful, slender, dark enchantress that carried his first spark of love in her dark heart.

His eyes wandered elsewhere and forced the worries of his wife out in the open, "You still think about her?"

All he felt was shame, "Forgive me for my weak heart, Misty."

"Darnia," She was neither shaming nor condemning him, her mercy and patience almost angelic, "I believe…you shouldn't hold back these feelings any longer."

His exasperation left him nearly speechless, "W-What are you suggesting?"

She reached for his hands, and he helped her believe that she could lift them onto her lap. She then leaned in closer and whispered, "Sarajin said his goodbyes. Have you?"

"..."

"She'll never let go if you're still holding on."

"...It has been so long. And much has happened. I thought…I could just bury her beneath everything else and be done with it."

Misty nodded.

Darnia then gave a weak smile as he turned to comfort his only guiding wind, "I'll go. But please, get some rest."

She stroked his hair and nuzzled her cold nose against his forehead, "I still don't plan to die anytime soon, Darnia."

He sniffled warmly and pressed against her, never wishing for this feeling to fade.

Once he was certain that she would stay upstairs to rest, he gathered his scattered thoughts together and found the resolve to leave his home alone.

Straight to Obscura he went. No distractions. No stops.

The village of darkness was still guarded by the ghastly, lucid white trees. The first obstacle in his path was not them, but his will to pass through.

Those without the courage to face darkness were denied, wandering through a fog full of taunting, child-like laughter until they were spat out from another side.

But his hesitation proved to be foolright, as a whisper full of delightful, feminine wiles led him down the straight path to the village.

A cold sweat dripped down the side of his face after he left the trees.

A painting capturing a single moment, spanning across time. The unmoving pastiche sky, beaming fabricated moonlight over the land, brought to mind former comfort.

A temptation…that he should no longer listen to.

He was but a stranger to the eyes of the villagers. Even if some saw him back then, he had become worn down, rebuilt, and worn down again.

They saw the familiar aesthetic of his poncho and murmured, maybe considered approaching, but by the time they'd taken the first step he was carried along by the wind towards the twisted knoll.

He stopped at the fence and looked up to see Ophelia's grave at the peak, standing against the moonlight. The shadow cast seemed to move on its own to hang over him.

He was flung years back, a feeble boy with broken spirits dragged along the ground by his knees and elbows.

Her shadow hung over him, her smile bright white through pitch black night. The stars hung high, the moon a deep shade of purple to mask her body in a halo of indescribable beauty.

And she reached her hand out, her movements like petals fleeting off the trees.

And he reached back, gliding his shaky fingertips along her thin, cold palm. The chill stung his heart, and he let her wrap her hand around his own.

Those were such black and delicate fingernails that cut thinly into the skin of his palm…

The present man he was now stood in place of the past and she chuckled, seemingly aware of what transpired, thus her question bit with more weight than before, "Will you come with me?"

As the memory fade he found himself walking in the winding knoll with his hand outstretched. A lithe shadow was ahead of him along the side to carry him along through the past.

He felt his youth return and it let him vividly recall their moments spent together.

How she sat off the balcony in her room, daring the pull of gravity to soak in the moonlight.

When she bathed in the steamy water and cuddled next to him, the scars on her body were rough, but pleasant to feel, as they brought him closer to the fluttering pulse in her veins.

He made her learn to enjoy a cooked fish on the shore. She squirmed at the flavor but her smile remained unmoving, in fact, it was cute.

Why oh why does he have to be poisoned by a dream?

Because it was a pleasant, pleasant dream, intoxicating to the thoughts.

Her body was always cold. She pushed herself onto him and held on, her paper thin arm gripping tighter than the bite of a shark.

She believed this to be love. So did he, once.

…Once, no. A lie to cover the guilt.

There was undeniable proof that he bought into his own feelings, a truth he cannot deny no matter how violently he thrashed against the past.

His age caught up with him at the peak, and the shadow drifted out of his hand into the moon's surface, leaving on a smile.

Darnia then looked down at the untouched gravestone and dropped onto his knees.

"Heh…" He broke down to laugh and a smile forced its way onto his face, "You never were going to go quietly, Ophelia."

He paused, then laid his hands on his lap to bow his head and avoid the sight of the grave, "...You always projected an untouchable aura, so confident that you fooled yourself and I into thinking you were immortal."

"But you probably imagined you'd find your end in battle or slaughter…I cannot even begin to fathom how crushing the disappointment was in your final years."

"...I-I can never forgive you for the lives you took. But answer me…please," He begged through a whimper, "If I did forgive you…Would you have accepted us as still being friends?"

"I just…" His voice cracked, as he started to recall their most personal moment together, "Cannot comprehend how genuine or intense your love for me was."

They had laid in bed with only their bare selves crawling over each other.

Her shadows stitched into his arms and legs like tiny, tiny strands of webbing. Her face was a luscious shade of pink, her eyes pulsing with animalistic power and yet, reluctance.

"Were our feelings just a game to amuse you? Did you enjoy watching me writhe in seclusion?"

They had pushed together, then pulled out.

In…and out.

In…and out.

She nibbled on his lips then kissed him dry to the point of leaving them both gasping.

Sweat pouring out, filled with passion.

They let themselves be blind to any sense of control.

Darnia dug his knuckles into the grass as his mind was rocked by the melody of her voice, echoing in ecstasy.

And then came a piercing cold sensation from behind that made his head rise to be greeted by a shadow looming over him.

He looked over his shoulder, and there stood Solomon, an armored tower of black.

He was resentful with his gaze, burning red like the light of a dying star.

His feelings alone could crush Darnia's bones to dust, yet his rage was repressed, only manifesting briefly through his question, "What are you doing here?"

Darnia stood and looked aside at the grave, muttering aloud to himself, a fool in all but name, "Speaking to the dead…"

He then buried his chin into his poncho and as the sweat subsided, he let out a sigh and began to step off the hill, "I'll be going now…"

Solomon's hands tightened like iron bars as he barked and growled at him with a deep, subtle intensity, "Cowering away again, Darnia Stratos?"

Darnia briefly looked over his shoulder with his tired eyes to remark, "What could you possibly want from me?"

Solomon brought his fists down and narrowed his, his armor creaking with a deep and prolonged groan.

He then opened his hands out from his hips and spoke with the authority of his position, "You know what my mother passed down to me…"

Darnia winced, and tried to avert his gaze.

Solomon reared his more feral side as he roared, "Look me in the eyes, Darnia Stratos!"

Darnia made a fierce turn to glare him down, refusing to be a man curled up in fear of his own shadow, "You think I can satisfy you now?"

"I am owed answers, and you WILL surrender them to me."

Darnia tucked his hands behind his back and suddenly, Solomon thrust his hand out with it wreathed in darkness so thick it spread out like a flame.

Darnia flinched and his eyes wavered, but he pressed down upon his gaze and scoffed, "This is how you act? A brute, no, a spoiled child?"

Just to dig a deeper wound, Darnia had to humiliate himself by admitting, "Your mother was a murderer, but at least she conducted herself with elegance."

Solomon squeezed the darkness out of his hand and laughed, "Threatening me to yield by appealing to a familial bond…Hmph, you ARE his father…"

No more threats to spare, he cut straight to the point, "I was entrusted with her memories and knowledge. But she chose not to let me see the kind of man you are."

"All I could rely on was that day you appeared before her to prop up all the years she wasted away pining for your presence."

"And I judge you now as I judged you then…a coward. So how, WHY, did your love ever come to be…?"

Darnia's eyes watered and with a shake of his head he looked at the ground and remarked, "All that knowledge, and I don't believe you're capable of comprehending the complexities of our relationship."

Solomon's eyes narrowed, "I demand you start trying."

With a pained look, Darnia glanced over his shoulder at the grave and murmured what his heart had locked away, an unbearable and definitive truth, "I did love her…perhaps a part of me still does."

"The disappointment over what the world truly was like left us fractured, and happenstance brought our pieces together, filling the gaps to make us whole again…"

"But I was never enough to complete her. Her heart was…too drenched in the darkness of betrayal. It yearned for an excuse to exact vengeance upon the world and when it finally delivered it to her…she made her choice, and so did I…"

"You RAN." Judged Solomon with a deep, billowing ferocity.

"...I did," Darnia did not hesitate to admit the truth, but with some elaboration on the deeper meaning behind his actions, "And that was wrong. But remaining with her…would have been even more wrong."

"My feelings now do not betray the man I was then. What we had was genuine. She was the one who guided my hand as I was lost in the abyss. We shared food. We fawned over the stars. We were like children, escaping into dreams. We held our bodies together on a level I only wish I had the vocabulary to describe…"

"Darkness provided easy comfort. It did not judge me. Perhaps…it has always been a misconception to presume it to be evil."

Darnia laid his hand against his heart as his temperature rose at the thought of the family he had now, "But it cannot be a replacement for the warmth of true love."

Solomon shook, making his authority feel powerless in the face of his words.

He glared at Darnia and told him, "So, that's that."

He raised his hands, his mannerisms judging the man for his attempts at glorifying his cowardice, "You're happy now, so that justifies your abandonment. At the cost of condemning who was left behind…"

Darnia muttered, "I did not damn her to her fate-"

"No, but you may as well have put your hands on her throat…" Solomon uttered softly.

Darnia then called him out on his impolite attitude, "Condemning me in return won't bring her peace-!"

Solomon's eyes then burned hot as he growled loudly, "This is NOT about HER…! Her voice is buried under a mound of dirt and her vengeance lies whimpering beneath her gravestone."

"This is about me and you, Darnia Stratos."

"...You're right," Darnia closed his eyes and pulled together his rattled heart, "We're the ones she left behind to stew over her mysterious ways…"

"Haaa…" He pulled his head up and with a regretful glean in his eyes muttered, "Do you doubt that she ever loved you?"

Solomon paused to let that sink in, his eyes dulling as he spoke with dwindling confidence, "I rarely knew a moment of freedom, I was not allowed to decide who I was, or what my appearance would entail."

"...I do not understand your 'warmth'...but I never felt the cold coming off her eyes when she looked at me."

Darnia closed his eyes and nodded, "Whether she had the capacity to or not, she sincerely believed she could love others, and it was in those moments that she treated people with the delicacy one would a leaf."

"Were her fingers ticklish as she combed your hair? Did she squash any crease or fold in your sheet as you lay in bed? Did she pluck you from the bath water before even a single wrinkle could mar your skin?"

"Those things…were 'normal' to Ophelia."

"Hrrmmm…" Solomon stirred with a growing sense of confusion, and partial dissatisfaction, "If even her love was a product of whimsy, then what is 'normal' about me?"

"...You are Solomon. Her son. What more could you possibly want?"

Darnia's whispers spoke with such earnesty that Solomon knew he was beaten, and all that accomplished was to spoil his mood with even further disappointment aimed at this man.

"...Nothing that you are willing to provide for me, it seems." Upon that remark he was prepared to turn and leave when Darnia reached out and braved the impenetrable chill upon his shoulder.

"That isn't true," He said, swallowing his reluctance to face him man-to-man, "I know what it is like to feel lost, unsure of who you are."

Solomon shoved him off as he turned around, and Darnia continued to be a patient man, "The circumstances of your birth don't matter. You are trying to be a better man than your mother ended up being. And as long as you keep walking your own path, avoid trampling over others, there will always be a place for you in the world."

Solomon's eyes narrowed as he muttered coldly, "Just not in yours…"

Darnia's pupils shrank and he performed a deep swallow. He closed his eyes, hung his head, and admitted to him, "I am a stronger man than I once was, but never will it be enough to turn back the hands of time."

Solomon clenched his fists by his sides and said in a pitiful, almost begging tone, "I would have never made such a ludicrous demand. I only wished that you had enough to include me in your life…"

"Father."

Darnia's skin became riddled with goosebumps and his heart shook with an ache.

The tension in the air was palpable, as Solomon began to extend his hand out, the individual fingers moaning like damaged metal as he spread them wide.

No darkness, no threatening tone, just the authority granted to him dictating the tone of his voice, "It is time for you to leave."

"..." Darnia nodded, and with one last look over his shoulder he held his head high and saw a vision of himself sitting next to Ophelia on the edge of the hill, holding hands as the stars watched them from up high.

A single tear ran down his cheek and fell upon the gravestone, as he whispered with finality, "Farewell…Ophelia."

And like the wind, he passed through these visions of the past in silence and descended to the ground.

By the time Solomon walked over to where he was, he was already gone, and he knew they'd never cross paths again…

Left alone, a boy who grew to be a man, still seeking answers to who he wants to be.

Yet in his hunt for them he nearly bent his knee in fealty to that coward, which scarred his ego with shame.

He chose to return to his palace with no word spared over what had transpired. He was deaf to the voices of his audience and set his sights upon his throne.

There, his mother's shadow sat on the arm and leaned back, defying gravity as she floated on the strength of her parasol alone.

He stopped and stood before his throne, looking at the shadow's playful smile as it whispered to him, "Are you satisfied now?"

He narrowed his eyes and let out a muffled groan before uttering, "Move. That is no longer your throne."

The shadow giggled and then laid down across the seat, her dainty legs kicking up against the air, "Curious, I thought you didn't care about the throne."

Solomon craned his head back to condemn the shadow further with his gaze.

"Then who does this throne belong to, my child? Have you determined just who you want to be?"

Solomon gripped his fists tight and radiated darkness, "Whatever it shall be, it will not be in your shadow. I REFUSE to degrade myself to the level of obsessing over a man wishing to be broken."

The shadow twirled so her body sat in the throne as naturally as she used to, and she planted her parasol upon the ground and smiled wider than normal, ""Ha ha ha…Is that so?"

Her tone, almost taunting, left him off his guard when she whispered sincerely, "Good."

The shadow disappeared into the ether and Solomon took his seat upon the throne, seeing many confused gazes aimed his way.

He leaned his fist against the side of his face and went silent, but the darkness refused to let him sit quietly in peace.

"And what's wrong with wanting to break things?"

He slowly lifted his head and looked to his left, recognizing the voice as that of the parasite's.

With his meaty grin, the parasite spoke again in his mind, his mouth unmoving, "You're finally starting to understand what it is you want…Dark King Solomon."

Solomon's gaze grew cold, as he tried to pull away from his whispers.

But it had already dug in, and the mere thought made his heart start to stir…

Next Time: Cheating the Future