A/N: This is a re-upload of an old drabble I took down a while back (for some minor changes).
More Middle-Eastern Kunzite.
"How many miles to Babylon?
Three score and ten.
Can I get there by candle-light?
Yes, and back again.
If your heels are nimble and light,
You may get there by candle-light."
The path to salvation is long. The lost wandered aimlessly. Some, desperately clinging on to the sense of false hope of a golden past long gone, fell before reaching the end. Others, so blinded by pride and greed, have taken all the wrong turns at the crossroads.
The path to redemption is even harder. The condemned tread lightly. Torn between turning back to the eternal damnation of guilt and passing the hidden minefields of past misdeeds that are waiting to go off.
And the path that leads home seems like an endless maze, where the paths of salvation and redemption often collide.
Where once stood the majestic gardens, towering over the sun-scorched plains and alive with exotic plants and heavenly streams of water, now lays a wasteland of wild grass and rubble, merely a mythical telling of a golden age that long since passed. The sanctuary a king commissioned for his beloved wife, who was foreign to this barren land and ever longed for the green hills and fertile valleys of her homeland. The magnificence that once entranced another princess from foreign land. All have been lost to the devastation that is time.
"Sir, please stay close to the group. We'll be heading down to the Ishtar Gate soon."
The voice calls him back to reality and the vision of the heavenly kingdom shatters. Turning around, he nods to the tour guide and silently follows the group down the watchtower, leaving behind the vast, desolate field lying in the distant horizon.
An 18-hour flight and a 3-hour ride was all that it took for him to journey back to the place he once called home. It was simple as that. No guarding dragon. No burning walls of flames. No army of vengeful spirits who were wronged and betrayed by their King.
Thousands of years have passed and again here he stands. Greeting him at the Ishtar Gate was no longer cheering crowds of loyal subjects but the curious stares of local dwellers and a couple of tourists posing inappropriately under the arch. Sadder even, the sacred gate of his people has long been excavated and is now merely a pitiful replica. Such is the return of a King who brought about the demise of his own kingdom.
Whatever memories he now has left of this land, they all point towards one place.
As he looks around and upon the inscriptions and drawings on the walls, trying to find traces of the hidden path that leads to the heart of another forgotten kingdom, the one he was ever more devoted to, Elysion. As the ancient priests had intended, the path would only reveal itself to the most trusted servants and protectors of Elysion.
Again he searches and searches, until slowly, before his eyes the inanimate drawings starts to come to life. The aurochs and dragons whose eyes mock and lips sneer of a disgraced King daring to show his face.
'What is it you're seeking here? Forgiveness? Redemption? Trying to reclaim the feeling of old glory?' He can hear their words spoken inside his mind, the voices that laugh and scream.
Before he knows it, he is chasing after them, past the gate, past the empty ruins he didn't realize were there, and past the many crumbling towers. As he runs, around him the visions came alive once more. Up on the high wall of the Ishtar Gate, a silver-haired warrior opens his arms wide as he catches the falling goddess. By the bank of the Euphrates River, under the night heaven and stars, they speak of unbreakable promises and undying love. Inside the sacred temple, a dark priestess warns of a Lunar invasion. By the war table, brothers scream and point swords at each other. On the balcony of the highest tower, the King shouts out to his people as he leads them to their final battle.
Standing before him now is the very Gate of Elysion. Pass under it and he will be able to walk the sacred path. Reach the end of the road and he can enter the golden kingdom. Take his place by the throne and redeem himself.
But as he nears the Gate, he stops, and turns around. Everything was gone. No burning houses. No charging soldiers. He turns around again. The Gate was gone. He is back at the modern gate with his tourist group who are still enthusiastically taking pictures.
And on the walls, the drawings move no more. If they ever did.
As the trip comes to the end, they are taken to an old market flee. His mind isn't really into the bargaining game as he walks aimlessly around the stands. He wonders if he has perhaps taken the wrong turn and if he shouldn't have turned around.
"Your first time visiting?" A hearty voice disrupts his thoughts.
The old jewelry peddler greets him with a warm smile but soon starts to look rather baffled, for his potential customer only stands there in silence.
Just as suddenly, he looked up with a smile and nodded his head.
"How much for these two?" He pointed to the two bracelets clasped with little lions and flowers. An odd combination.
While waiting for the old man to bag up his souvenir, he takes out his cellphone. His face brightens up at the first name appearing on the notification box and the message that follows.
'Are you coming home soon? She was kicking again today!'
He smiled and put his cellphone away, along with the two bracelets he just bought, heading back to the bus.
Sometimes, if you can't find the way back to your old home, it's better to just turn back and build a new one.
The End.