Weight of Worlds

It was all clear now. In the rubble strewn, snow covered, frost shrouded little world of Elusria, everything had become perfectly clear. The minutiae of life. Small decision, behavioral patterns, and weaknesses. All the signs she’d been taught to recognize, to exploit. Only those skills never worked as well as they should and never served the best function possible.

What good was the ability to see flaws in others, determine how they would topple them, if one was blind to one’s own? All the tricks, the words and touched designed to elicit a predetermined reaction, when she couldn’t recognize or stop her own. Awareness without the self. Doomed to repeat destructive patterns until she broke.

In a small crater, well into the shadow of Queen’s Palace, the path was laid out before. Walked first by her teacher, then his child. She would follow them eventually, likely Minul would follow one day as well.

Pashar crouched in wonderment, staring down at the creature huddled in the shadow. Power beyond her reckoning. Even knowing the fount of strength that resided in his crouch form, she could find nothing. Blind to him, as she was to herself.

Some time had passed since the Powers-That-Be had dispersed to their different corners. Kyriake and Phormos leaving through the portal, the entity weaving directly through the frozen dome as if it wasn’t multiple feet of ice. Ice that crackled overhead. The process for taking down the shield was as slow as it was meticulous.

It would likely be another day before it was fully down, ice-manipulators working around the clock to bring it down. Would she still be here when it came down?

Squinting through the snow-dusted frost to the sun beyond. Afternoon. Her gaze returned to the two figures huddled in their dark hole. Her face restive and her eyes no longer glowing, Pashar recognized the small traits on the woman’s features. Something of Saif in the nose and cheeks.

She was of a height with Saleema. In fact, Pashar was willing to bet if someone lined them up, they’d be equally tall. Saif’s heat had melted the snow in her hair, washing clean spots of lustrous black, the same shade as Pashar’s own. Traits randomly dispersed throughout the population.

Pashar didn’t have the royal eyes. She didn’t have their blood. Yet, Saif had found traits in her he recognized, consciously or not. Minul shared the royal blood, marks of Saif and his brood lingering even through all these generations. A tilt of the chin and those eyes.

She wondered how he’d reasoned it for himself. She was facing a difficult tenure as a Queen, interesting challenges, a difficult environment? Was it simply enough to get away from Ankiria? Perhaps that was another thing Pashar had inherited from Saif.

“Do you think it’s possible to break the patterns of your parents?” She asked.

Minul having trudged up, a guard of a dozen tethered following behind her. Two space-generators, Pashar noticed with wry amusement. There was no doubt regarding which tethered had needed a promotional push, nor could there be a discussion about the effect the last days had on the perception of said tethered.

“He isn’t your dad,” The Queen said, though her golden eyes shared some of the worry in Pashar’s eyes. She didn’t have as much of Saif’s training as her, but she’d had it, nonetheless.

“Isn’t he? Then what is he?”

“A teacher. A mentor.”

“Who took me in during my most vulnerable years and molded me? Giving me the skills and talents to do as he did. He might not have raised me from birth, but he took over before I turned fourteen.”

Minul watched him in silence, then nodded. “I think you can. My mother was slovenly and wasted the power of the throne. If not for the investment by the royals, she would have been done away with years before her bad habits gave birth to me.”

“Perhaps that’s another thing he looks for. Women who already believe themselves to be lesser, but with a need to prove themselves.”

The Queen did not reply to that. Could not in the presence of her guards. Or maybe she simply didn’t want to.

“Saleema had siblings. An extra child to loosen in case of political need.”

He stirred then, eyes opening. Orange burning brighter to a yellow that put Minul’s to shame. Glowing with power, he straightened. “They are coming,” his voice was rough, and he coughed, spitting clotted blood out. “We will need to prepare for them.”

“They?” The Queen asked.

“The People of the Goddess.”

She gave a bewildered look to Pashar.

“You’ve been calling them flesh-torn.” Saif stepped out of the crater, one foot propelling him to the lip as if he was perusing a garden. “They require a delegation, room and board. We will have to prepare for them appropriately.”

“And you’re just going to become King now? Take over?” she asked, switching to Kisi after a glance at her guards. One of them understood, though did a remarkable job not letting on.

“King?” he hesitated, eyes dimming for a moment, his spirit flagging as his gaze landed on Saleema. “Never again.” He firmed, squaring his shoulders. “But I will forge us together. Create a true alliance.”

“Us?” Pashar asked, despite herself getting drawn by his presence. Perhaps he’d trained it into her.

“Humanity.” He turned to look at Minul and spoke in Elensk. “You operate now under the Aegis of the Sun King and as a representative of the United Elusria and Ankiria. Make the proclamation under my signal.” He rose into the air, towards the dome, shrouded in a cloud of ember-specked smoke.

Perhaps it was just the presence of a power that drew her in, Pashar considered. Drew everyone in.

“Why is this happening?” One guard asked, his voice shaking.

“The people who’ve been pulling the strings behind the scenes just realized how far out of their control things have gotten,” Pashar said. Minul gazed at her intently. “They are coming to correct it before another force can start tying its own puppets to the field.”

And which puppet am I? She gazed after the cloud of smoke, though it had now vanished beyond the dome. Could the pattern be broken? Not under him. She turned toward the portal, her strings thoroughly bound to another master.

Ayvir staggered under Grevor’s weight. The path from the Palace to his family’s estate was not far, but Ayvir only had a single hand and Redpaw’s attempts to help, admirable as they were, didn’t make it easier. Though he was finally approaching the last leg of his journey.

He should have just used his powers. The Discipline of Body would have delivered Grev in moments. He simply could not find it in him. Ayvir’d lost friends before. He’d served most of five years on the front lines. His first week, they lost his entire squad and a significant portion of his year.

Having done it before didn’t make it easier. It just made him heavy.

At the gate, the guards, huddling behind the wall in rightful fear, saw Grevor. A flurry of motion overtook them. Servant came out with a stretcher, they took him from Ayvir’s hands. The guards escorted him inside, leaving the gate entirely. Ayvir stood alone, looking in on the cold, white, and dead garden of the estate, beyond it to windows and walls of the facade. Dead and dark. There was no light in the windows, each door was locked.

Ayvir turned away and Redpaw squirmed into his coat to rest against his chest. The heat was the slightest comfort in the distant cold he found himself in. Above, he sensed powers at work, tearing down the dome.

Deeper into the city, he came upon the first gathering. Men and women standing on boxes screaming and proselytizing at the top of their lungs. Whether they were condemning Ranvir or blessing him, he didn’t catch.

Past them, rubble started showing, damage wrought by panicked citizens, the processions, and perhaps by Ranvir and Saleema. He skirted the army and therefore the worst of the damage, but still their presence was felt. Men in armor were running supplies to anyone in sight.

Somehow, Ayvir ended up with a blanket wrapped around him.

A building had fallen in on its basement, leaving it a story lower than its neighbors. People thronged the street, scurrying to pull out furniture, tools, and personal effects. Off to one side, a young couple, dusty, bloody and looking shocked, watched as their neighbors emptied their home.

Ayvir paused, gazing across the group. Someone came up to the pair with bowls of broth. “Excuse me, sir.” He blinked over at a man. “You don’t happen to know of anyplace they can stay the night? Perhaps were we can store their items until we can restore the house?”

He nodded slowly, giving the man direction to his own home.

“‘Preciate it, sir. They really do, just a little stunned is all.”

Ayvir nodded and continued on. The man asked after him, but Ayvir shook his head. Further from the disaster zone, he found more squares filled with screaming masses. He avoided these as assiduously as he did the army. The finally, he reached the wall. Chaos surrounded the gates, and peering at the chaos, he found a little more life left in him.

A slash of bright light struck the top of the gate arch. People turned and stared, going mute. They let him pass, unmolested until he stood before the guards. “Either I burn through the gate, or you open the door.”

The guards gathered tight behind, and one opened the wicket gate for him. Into the snow, he stepped on, finding the road obscured. At spaces it was knee deep, and he walked until exhaustion faltered him and he stumbled.

He lays down in the cold. The chill settling into him. He closed his eyes.

Warmth surrounded him. He’d heard of this, though never seen it. Chill so deep it turned the senses on their head. He turned, gravel scrunching and shifting underneath him. He opened his eyes. Snow rose near a foot around him, yet did not touch him. The dirt underneath was dry.

Blinking, he looked at the little head peeking out of his shirt. Redpaw had scratched and bloodied his chest. Ayvir sat up, his body aching as if he’d fallen out a second-story window.

Evening was settling in over Elusria, and the sky was rapidly darkening. Power was building above the city. Smoke.

Redpaw peeked out from his collar in that same direction. The power blew out in a sudden overwhelming rush. Dark clouds devouring the sky, covering the city and then beyond. Spreading beyond Ayvir’s position halfway up a hill. He’d not made it half as far as he’d thought, he realized. Not even halfway to the academy.

The smoke thickened, and the evening grew dark. Dark as night without the moon. Ayvir rubbed a hand across his face. “They took away the sun.”