Ch. 79 Child of Keel
Once upon a time, before man first turned to dust, there lived a craftsman.
He was a man well renowned in the lands and well respected by the people. So far and wide the word of his work spread that people on other continents whispered of his work.
Bands of gold and silver imbued with mystical abilities, brilliant gems that sang with all the colours of the rainbow, swords and sceptres filled with raw power. All that and more was within the skill of this craftsman.
It wasn't long, or perhaps it was, before a mighty yet young king called upon the man with a request.
"I wish to rule my lands with foresight beyond that of mortal men. I wish for you to make me a crown that would become my third eye and let me see fate itself."
The craftsman was daunted by the request. To see fate itself was a privilege beyond the reach of any but lady fate itself. Not mortal men, not immortal divines, not even the Brothers within their domains of black and white.
There was little the mortal man could do but tell the king.
"My liege, I wish I was able to fulfil your request, yet it would take many lifetimes to finish such a monumental task."
The king remained unshaken in his decision.
"I will task my best alchemists to craft tonics of longevity, and you too shall work on prolonging your own life. If it takes generations, so be it. My blood will one day reap the rewards of my foresight."
The man was doubtful of his chances at success, yet there was little else to do but get to work. He knew not of any cure for death, but he knew there were many tricks to push it back…
Many years later the man returned to stand before the king. While the craftsman aged gracefully, the king was a sickly old man. The craftsman was happy with his work, after years of work he brought good news before the king.
"My liege! I have done it! I have proven that the future could be divined."
The king was not happy. Despite claiming otherwise all those years ago, his old age robbed him of his patience.
The craftsman resisted the king's urging. "It isn't ready, there's no knowing what you'd see!"
Despite his protests, the king took the crown from him. It was a plain band of black iron, though its many layers hid a plethora of runes and script.
The moment the old man put the crown on his head, his eyes widened. First in joy, then in fear.
The moment he first glanced the weave of fate he believed it to shine brilliantly. Yet a moment later he saw the glow for what it was. The branching tree of possibilities lit in brilliant flames as branches of fate burned, crumbled and faded from view until only one path remained.
The king saw many things, and their many ends. The end of his own, the end of his blood, the end of his legacy and the end he committed to.
"I… have made a mistake." Those were the last words of the king.
The craftsman, convinced it was the king's untimely death that was the mistake, took the crown with him to continue his work.
Many years later the craftsman again stood before a king. The king saw wisdom in his fathers endeavour and wished to hear of the craftsman's progress.
The craftsman offered the crown to the king. The band was covered in gold, and of the many layers of script only the top one was visible.
"I have worked tirelessly for these past years to shield the eyes of the wearer from the raw weave of fate. I do not know what you'll see, but it will be the future and it will be true."
The young king eagerly accepted and put on the crown. Yet what his eyes saw was the same future his father saw in his moment of death, the same end and destruction his kingdom would face in time.
He returned the crown to the craftsman.
"I foresaw a bleak future. Work on your crown, for I wish to see a happier one."
The craftsman nodded and went back to work.
Many times did the king ask to see the future over the years, yet the future did not change. No matter what the king did and no matter how much skill the craftsman poured into his work, fate was set in stone.
When the king died, he did so with sorrow in his heart. He changed nothing.
The craftsman was distraught when the third king called for him. The crown was stained in blood and tears, yet nothing seemed to ever change about the future. And yet the craftsman knew he was running out of time.
He was already three times the age he used to be when he started his work on the crown and every year the price for fooling death became higher.
The third king echoed his grandfather's last words.
"He made a mistake. Foresight is not enough to lead the kingdom. I require you to change the future, to fracture the fate that's set in stone. No matter the price."
The craftsman worked through the pain of his body deteriorating. His blood burned and froze, his bones grew frail with age, his skin wrinkled and hardened.
Upon the third king's death a fourth one took his place. Upon his, the fifth. Then the sixth and finally the seventh - the last king of his bloodline.
The seventh king knew his fate well, after all it was foreseen and recorded well. He would have no children and his death would become an omen of reckoning. The next man to sit on the throne would be the one who'd lead the kingdom to ruin.
The kingdom was prosperous, as the many generations of its leaders tried to improve things to avoid its ruin. Its many people lived in peace and comfort.
The king called upon the craftsman, yet instructed him to not bring the crown.
"I have accepted my fate, but I beseech you. You must complete your work before the next king sits on the throne. I do not wish for my people to die through the whims of fate. No price is too great."
When the king died, no-one was allowed to claim the throne. The craftsman forbade it.
Yet as he worked on his magnum opus, he lost track of time. Years went by, then decades.
…
The crown was complete. Blood stained gold and jagged crystals of immortal blood sat on Keel's head. But it was too late.
Keel sat on the throne in the castle's ruins and looked upon the kingdom. Without its king, the land was wrought with famine, war and Grimm until there was no kingdom left.
"Behold my daughter! I am the man who next sat on this throne, because I am the man who brought about the end of this kingdom. I have become king of blood and ruin. All to create you, so that better kings than me don't have to suffer the same fate as I do."
When his daughter wept tears of blood, he sat there and cried with her.
Sat unmoving with no water or food he wished for death, but he wouldn't die.
When man turned to dust at the hands of the dragons, he didn't die.
When his blood took root, he couldn't die.
And when his daughter was chained, he lost all hope to ever die.
=O=O=O=
Ruby was stunned into silence as the story played out before her through Jinn's magic.
At the end, when Keel sat alone, rooted in place she gazed at the night sky visible behind him, a single unbroken crescent moon visible through the foliage and broken ceiling.
It felt so wrong to see the moon whole and unbroken, yet somehow it also felt right, like that was what it was supposed to be.
When the illusion broke and reality covered their view, the moon was replaced by Remnant's shattered one, looming low in the sky as the day slowly turned into night.
She looked at Jaune and a thought came to her mind. A sudden realisation of what she just witnessed. The tale of a man steered onto a path to lose it all. One whole, slowly broken apart, and one already shattered yet walking still.
She looked back to the shattered moon and was reminded of Jaune's scars. Jaune was so much like the moon in her eyes. The crater of burn scars and surgical cuts on his chest reflecting the shattered moon. Yet Jaune pulled himself together time and time again only for something to push him to crack again.
"Do you believe in destiny?" she whispered to herself, the line from a book Jaune had forgotten the title of resonating so much more now that she knew.
Perhaps Jaune was destined to repeat what Keel had gone through… and if that was the case then Ruby would stand tall and face whoever dared to make it so; destiny, the immortals, the dragon gods if she had to, just to make sure Jaune wouldn't end up alone.
=O=O=O=
Author's note:
This weeks chapter was just story time, though it seemed like an appropriate pause to let me sort out how I want to tell the multiple story beats that follow.
Also remember back when I told you the moon is important? You still don't know half of it yet!
I do have to ask for forgiveness if next week's chapter isn't finished on time though, there is a good chance I'll be unable to deliver next Tuesday as I may be completely indisposed then.
But hey if you want to support me you can do so on P a treon . com (slash) OlympianScribe
Anyway I hope you enjoyed and are looking forward to the next chapter: Ch. 80 Unfair