The Priesthood

It quivers and bubbles, the darkness around us; one can almost touch it, feel its rough edges and smooth junctions. A mass of figures sewn into one, their voices loud and silent, a choir of lost souls, of a lost time, of a lost Empire; the servants of a dead god.

“We died for nothing.” A whisper so soft and full of resentment lulled my mind closer, begging for someone to remember that such injustice was allowed to exist even then, and perhaps even now.

I am pierced, stuck—part of a wall that stands between the city and the shadows that lie past its walls. Beneath we are, and no light is potent enough to pierce through, to exorcise the lost souls that now roam the edges of my vision.

“They surrendered; we all should’ve done so, not just those who perished. Our deaths were there only to feed him, only to make his will eternal." Another whisper reached my ears, another prayer lost in time. Another memory to now replace a piece of me.

It is cold here, and against the fog that never settles, only together might we hold these walls intact; only together, might the rest live. Only together must we reach the point of insanity.

These walls devour me; we are together, but not one memory remains between us; we have long forgotten who we are; only our purpose remains, as we must hold, even after we break; even after I can no longer remember how to remember or even how to forget.

“Who was the madman who claimed that they could kill a god?” A final whisper, which turned into a scream... Their memories are soon mine, and I can’t remember who we died for.

I close my eyes, and at last, I am awake...

Cold sweat, shivers that ran through his spine, a gentle touch that he felt on his forehead, only to open his eyes to a room now lit, in his sight a face he couldn’t recognize at first. A gray creature that stared back at him had a baffled expression—a question in its eyes, in those blue eyes so cold.

“Master A’Trou’n has made me your full-time servant; you seem to have made the other servants afraid of you,” Y’Kraun said and gently removed its finger from Kanrel’s forehead.

“She is also disappointed in you and claims to feel betrayed.” It soon added, taking a step back, as Kanrel had begun to calm down, it seemed.

Kanrel pondered for a moment: What could he have done to make the servants “afraid of him,” and A’Trou’n disappointed in him? Soon, he couldn’t help but scoff, “Can’t I even clean after myself?” He asked, got up, and dressed as the Atheian turned to look away. Perhaps the Atheians did have some sort of concept relating to decency?

“She wishes you to remember that the use of your powers might have many unwanted outcomes; prying eyes should not be allowed to see just what you are capable of,” Y’Kraun explained, its back toward Kanrel and its gaze directed toward the door.

It had slipped his mind, as something like that, the simple burning of hair, was a task he had done many times before. It had come as part of his nature, through a code he could bring forth at will, not having to even think about it that much. It was as simple as the action of snapping one’s fingers. It just happened, quickly and seamlessly.

During a filling, what could only be a breakfast, Kanrel finally had time to just sit down and think about the dream that he now barely remembered. All he could truly remember of it was the motion of those shadows, how they bubbled and quivered; that mass of figures—did they have faces? He couldn’t remember... The feeling of forgetting, the losing of yourself—it had to be a dream about that. But that dream—no—nightmare, it was lost, it was gone, only a fickle memory of it remained, and the unsettling emotion that it forced upon him—that was all there was left now.

Something you have to forget. It is only natural; we all forget. But the thought of forgetting those most dear to your heart could only be the worst curse that one might have. Perhaps one would rather forget himself than forget those who you love.

Another question raised itself from deep within: How much had he forgotten? Not just parts of himself, but also parts of himself that are filled with memories of another, of his mother, of his friends... He couldn’t help but scoff at himself, just because of a simple realization, one that he felt that most children would even understand... Forgetting people who you love and moments with those people who you love—is it not just losing another part of yourself? Don’t these memories of others mingle with the memories of yourself? Don’t those memories then create that which you are? It is a realization that he had had before, but not one that had yet planted itself in him or made him look at the world, himself, or other people in a different manner. That step of change had not happened yet, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that might ever happen. For it is seldom that just a thought or a conclusion would bring change within; often it has to happen through action or through something akin to trauma.

After a less dehumanizing bath, than he had at first experienced, Kanrel found himself, again, in the same room as yesterday, sitting across from A’Trou’n, with Lou’Deu’n not too far off, sitting at the same table, holding perhaps a different notebook in its hands, keenly waiting for the moment that it might bombard Kanrel with new questions, or whatever might suit its mind at the moment. Y’Kraun sat where he had been yesterday, not too far away so that he might be able to translate everything; but this time, there was a vase next to him and four cups ready as well, one on the floor next to the vase and the three others on the table, filled with water.

Lou’Deu’n seemed more excited than yesterday as if it were anticipating something, perhaps deep revelations that it might be able to extract from Kanrel, and such a change seldom goes unnoticed.

A’Trou’n snorted, rather suddenly, “I never thought that I’d see the day that a grown man acts like a child that has just received the toy he most wanted.”

Lou’Deu’n shifted his gaze toward A’Trou’n and smirked, “I just think that this will be a great day. You see, I've got many questions that I want to ask Mr. Kanrel here, and I feel that from today on a bright light will shed the shadows of the mind, bringing great clarity to a simple scholar like I.”

A’Trou’n scoffed, “Then go ahead, ask your silly questions.”

Lou’Deu’n’s smirk turned into a wide grin as he shifted his gaze toward Kanrel. “Well now, I promised that I’d have perhaps a hundred or more questions to ask you today... So let me begin with the one that most brightly burned since yesterday on the top of my head: Explain the way in which your magic works.” He asked although it didn't seem like a question and instead more like a demand, his eyes glistening with earlier excitement. He truly was like a child who got to play with his favorite toy. And in a way, it would’ve been a joy to see, well, perhaps not for A’Trou’n.

At that moment, Kanrel couldn’t help but glance at their host, who returned the glance and ever so slightly smiled. It was difficult to say what that smile meant, but either way, the scholar would not understand a word he would say, and all the information would go through Y’Kraun and A’Trou’n.

“Well, I am not sure how the magic we have differs from that which you have. I’d imagine it to be quite similar, but at the same time different based on how one has acquired their magical abilities.” Kanrel began, “But, for us, the easiest way for one to perceive magic is as something that may alter the rules of physics, at least somewhat.”

“Though it is very intertwined with the things that one has at hand or around them. For example, air, even here we have it, thus it is much easier to alter how air works around you, as there is so much of it around; the most simple thing one could do is to direct it somewhere and cause an airway, or even wind.”

“Heat is also everywhere; its level may differ, but it is also something one can alter quite easily; it just depends on how you imagine it and visualize it, since for us, visualization is the key. If you can’t see it, feel it, or know of its existence, then you can’t really alter it in any way.” Kanrel explained,and through it all, Y’Kraun was allowed to translate it freely.

Lou’Deu’n seemed slightly confused about something, so he stopped Kanrel before he could continue, “It is not that different from how magic works for us, but rather, how we perceive it. But I wonder, since one can’t see air or heat, how can you then alter it? What is the conclusion that allowed your people to alter such things?”

“Well, I know of its existence... I can breathe air, I can feel when the wind blows against me, I can feel the heat, be it cold or be it warm, thus I know that it is. I can’t see it; this is very true, but I can see the location where this phenomenon of air or heat exists, and I can visualize something that may alter its properties.”

“I feel that air and heat are at times connected. It is the air around us that gets colder or warmer depending on different factors, and I know that there are things other than the seasons that may alter their properties.”

“A wind can’t pass through a wall, thus I can block it; the same way I can direct the air, I can create walls around it to direct it where I please. And to alter its heat, I would just need fire to warm it or ice to make it colder.” Kanrel explained, at least the way most priests learned to use their powers—of course, it might differ from priest to priest, and it wasn’t like he visualized his magic in such a way.

For him, it was letters and numbers, each letter having a form, a simple purpose, be it fire, be it air, be it water, and so forth; a letter might entail all the things that the creation of fire might need, and the numbers that followed would give it guidance, just how bright he wanted the fire to be, as an example. All he truly needed to see was the location where he might place his codes.

He knew that somewhere there, in the creation of his language for magic, might exist a better explanation for how magic itself worked and what, truly, were its laws. But to find this explanation, he would have to dedicate the rest of his life just to find a piece of it.

Kanrel knew that the explanation that he had given Lou’Deu’n was good; it was something one should be pleased with, at least until he could give a better explanation. At least it was better than the one he had given to Y’Kraun.

The conversation continued in the same manner; for the first hour or so, they talked about magic and mainly just how priests like Kanrel were able to use it. He explained the sensation of magic, how it feels to use it, and how it feels to sense the magic of others, at least the magic of other priests. He explained the disgust he felt each time he had to use his powers. How, at first, he had vomited perhaps hundreds of times to be able to use it without it bothering him as much as in the beginning.

Lou’Deu’n in turn shared with Kanrel what the average Atheian felt when they used their powers: “Have you ever stolen a kiss from a person you love? Or got caught staring at someone you like? For us, it feels like that. Your heart beats without control, and there is this inexplainable warmth that comes from within that conquers your body and your mind. It is a thrill, of sorts. To steal a kiss from the girl you love; to get caught looking... It is like love, but it isn’t.”

“It is the most addictive feeling one might have. You use it once, and you’re hooked; you wish to use it again and again; to use it more and more. Until…” Lou’Deu’n explained, and as he did so, his expression would change. First, his eyes glistened in the light, and his pupils widened slightly, but as he finished his sentence, those eyes became empty; there was a void there, eyes that would look past things and people, eyes that would not connect with others.

“Until you feel cold.” He said and soon smiled, a sad smile of someone who had lost a loved one, perhaps that love from whom they had stolen a kiss. “You see, there comes a point when it doesn’t feel the same; in a way, you reach your peak, the very end of how far your powers can go, and you will never be able to muster enough of it to form a new spell that might give you that feeling of excitement again.”

“For some, it takes years to reach, others decades, and then there are those who lack talent, and all they need is a day to go from such excitement to the depths of an icy hell, unable to feel that overwhelming sensation again.” His eyes still felt like the abyss, and he let out a long sigh and raised his gaze slightly to meet Kanrel’s eyes again.

“When I meet your eyes,” he said, “I can see that the moment you acquired your powers, you had lost the ability to ever feel such a sensation ever again.” Lou’Deu’n’s tone was gentle, and his smile even more so: “I feel sorry for you, human.”

Kanrel examined the scholar, his eyes, his smile, his words; the pity that the scholar felt for him was true. It wasn’t a lie.

To Kanrel, it felt like a bitter taste had entered his mouth and a piece had formed in his throat; perhaps they were words that wished to be let out or tears that he had to swallow. His lips quivered as he formed a smile, a fragile lie that did not reach his eyes as he said, “I am too used to it; I can’t even remember that feeling of excitement, thrill, or love that you describe; not the same way that you can; for me it all is through this sense of dread.” He spoke as softly as he could.

“It was a great gift that the Angels gave us, but I most regret the day I received it.” He whispered, keeping his tone flat, making sure that there’d be no cracks in his voice as if he had accepted that regret the same way he had accepted that gift.

Y’Kraun hesitated for a moment and then translated, even that whisper, again, removing the word “angel” and changing it into “god.”

Lou’Deu’n’s eyes widened slightly, and his pity could be seen by all. He opened his mouth to say something, but A’Trou’n cut him off. “I think it is time we change the topic.” It was a simple command, but it didn’t feel as harsh as her other commands would’ve.

And for a moment, Kanrel couldn’t help but wonder if even she felt pity for him.

Lou’Deu’n did as was commanded and changed the subject altogether, from magic to culture, to questions like, “Do humans have a concept of art?” “What about music?” “Do humans dance?” and so forth. And the amount of questions asked seemed never-ending.

The scholar kept asking such questions until A’Trou’n forced him to stop so that they might at least eat before they continued.

Again, they ate what one could only call food, and they ate in silence, the three of them around on the table and Y’Kraun to the side with lesser proportions, yet he seemed to eat quite happily.

This, again, gave Kanrel more time to think. He had shifted his understanding of the Atheians, or at least the Lou’Deu’n and even more so A'Trou'n, on a personal level; before it had seemed like she saw him as nothing more than an ant or rat, she could easily squash. Yet she and the scholar both seemed to easily sympathize with what seemed like a common ail for a magic user among the Atheians.

This made him wonder if they too lost their ability to enjoy things, or if this was only when it came to magic. Perhaps he’d have a chance to ask A’Trou’n this question himself when others weren’t around, and then she might give an honest answer, one without the mask of a prideful noble.

During their lunch, Lou’Deu’n kept glancing at the door, as if he wanted to get out of there, to leave the gaze of their gracious host.

Soon, servants came and took away what was left of their lunch, and then right away, Lou’Deu’n began another bombardment of questions, this time about humans in general: “What does a female representative of your species look like? Are they as hairy as you are?” “What about your children?” “What will happen as you grow older? For how long can a human live?”

And to all these questions and many more, Kanrel would give his answers, explaining as well as he knew and remembered.

“So it seems that the average human lives a shorter life than the average Atheian; I am not too surprised; there is an old observation among the ancient scholars of race regarding magical ability and the likelihood of someone living over the age of a hundred, although our measurements of time might differ greatly, as far as I can tell, they aren’t too off from each other.” Lou’Deu’n pointed out while taking more notes—he seemed rushed, for some reason.

“So I wonder if, because the average human lacks magical ability, they might live shorter lives because of this? Does a priest like you live longer?” He asked.

To which Kanrel could only smile a little as he answered, “We don’t know; so far there have been no studies, at least that I am aware of, that point out such a correlation, but—”

The door burst open, and an Atheian, who wore a dark uniform, stepped in. It glanced around the room, looking for someone or something, then stopped on Kanrel, and a slight smirk came to its face. “So there is a Darshi here? It is as the report said.”

Then it raised its gaze and met the shocked eyes of A’Trou’n: “Your brother has given me the command to bring this outsider to his abode; and as is my right, given to me by your superior, I will have to extend this command to you.” It said, its smirk turning into a polite smile.

Then it cleared its throat. “Let me quote him for you: ‘By the command of the lord of K’eu’rn Grau’v, the City of Creation, you are to bring the Darshi to K’eu’rn Grau’v and present it to the scholars, the priests, the mages, the nobles, and even the wealthy.'" It quoted.

“What?” A’Trou’n almost yelled; her voice was shaky as she stared at the Atheian who had so casually opened the doors and walked in.

“Do I have to repeat myself? I said, ‘By the command of the lord of K’eu’rn Grau’v, the City of Creation, you are to bring the Darshi to—’” It began to repeat itself, but A’Trou’n’s attention was already somewhere else, for a smile never goes unnoticed...

And there was one, a rather wide one, on the face of the scholar who sat across from Kanrel; its gaze was set on her face; A’Trou’n met that gaze, and soon her expression changed from shock to anger, and then into an amused expression as it chuckled, “So you would betray our deal? Just like that? How wonderous, I must say; I never thought that you’d have the guts to do so." She said and then addressed the Atheian who had walked in, “If my lord brother so wishes, then I shall, a humble servant of his, abide by those wishes... We will leave today; in an hour or so, but first, let me and my guest prepare.” She said while a wide smile crept on her face. Deep beneath there must’ve been buried the anger she so wanted to unleash upon the two that had soured her day.

With a victorious smirk on his face, Lou’Deu’n got up from the pillows it sat upon.

“Not you, my pompous friend; this invitation does not include you.” A’Trou’n stopped him, and she could with great pleasure witness the newfound shock on Lou’Deu’n’s face, disbelief, and soon anger, then, at last, submission; it now knew that he had made a mistake.

Then A’Trou’n glanced at the serf, “Y’Kraun, help our human friend with packing; you will be joining us on this journey, and taking care of the human is your mission; do as it wishes you to do, but do remember that it serves me.” A’Trou’n commanded, her gaze shifting to the face of the Atheian that had so rudely interrupted them, “It has been a long time since we saw each other, Vaur’Kou’n.”

Y’Kraun got up and went to Kanrel, “Come now,” it said, “You need to show me what I need to carry for you.” They left the chamber that had an awkward atmosphere to it; there seemed to be many unresolved issues with the two Atheians that now measured each other; one known as Vaur’Kou’n held a smile on its face, and the other, their ever-gracious host, had much contempt in her smile. All the while the greatly disappointed scholar slowly got on its knees and began to beg.

The doors closed, not again showing this complicated scene to Kanrel, who wished to see what might happen; how would the conversation that he was not allowed to eavesdrop on unfold?