THE LANDS FORSAKEN
In a beginning, there was nothing.
"Thank you, creator! I was a fool to doubt your grace even for a moment. I know now and forever more the truth of your existence! For I prayed for light and the heavens delivered! This child will be known as Solvanel, the light that came from the heavens!"
But she wept, and there was light.
When I was old enough to wonder, I asked that woman why she had chosen for me my name.
She spoke of a garden where man first saw the light.
In a beginning, there was a garden that stretched into the horizon. At its outer edges, it was a verdant field dotted frequently by brightly colored plants. But as one was pulled in, they would see marvels of greenery that far exceeded imagination.
Trees that reached for the skies. Trunks smooth and unwavering with thick and heavy branches housing leaves that danced in constant, fragrant breeze and shimmered like splendorous jade.
"You needn't know how to identify the type, for they knew your slightest craving long before yourself, and would manifest themselves accordingly. Fruits that fit perfectly in the palm of your hand, sweet and sour to individual preference."
He created a stream that ran alongside them, its content clear as glass made by nothing less than divine craftsmanship. And although it never rained, droplets of morning dew shimmered like radiant pearls on the surface of flower petals of myriad color, making it feel as though the earth was fresh from a light drizzle.
The air was cool throughout the seasons, with gentle golden rays drifting down through the gaps in the forest canopy. And a clearing in the center where God spent most of his days looking at the sky.
The Garden of Genesis, Eden.
It was in this garden that humanity fell victim to the serpent's tongue. Despite his endless love, humanity was exiled from a place without night and plunged into a world of endless darkness.
A world of strife, where leaves fell to the ground and flora cared little for your preference, offering you poison to sate your hunger as they danced carelessly in the breeze.
A world of promptness, eternal lifespans now shortened to the length of any odd creature's patience. A world where you could do everything right, take all the necessary measures to protect yourself, yet still die without knowing what happened. And not even the brightness of the sun was enough to eradicate the creatures hiding in the darkness.
In that world was a village.
And in that village was a priestess.
And in her dream, a light.
A light that was destined to come from the heavens and eradicate the darkness once and for all! My grandmother gave me this name, knowing I would become that purifying light!
In my village, every man and woman makes a choice at sixteen years old. A skill or endeavor to which we devote the rest of our body, mind, and spirit—our very existence—until we take the final breath.
Needless to say that long before I reached the age of pursuit, I was certain of my own existence, a purpose far greater than the highest heights of their imagination. Walking among them was the light that fell from the heavens! And he was sure to free them all!
THE LANDS FORSAKEN | ???
599
"I pray for light within the darkness. For shelter in the rain. For love amongst my neighbors. For mercy in the pain. I pray for love unending. I pray for hate abstain. And when the night is over, I pray for day again."
As my whispered prayer comes to an end, I open my eyes to the darkness.
A desert in the middle of a dead world. No, the world I live in is far from a corpse. This land is proof of its bright and ever-burning. But the flame of my existence has shrunk to ember. And it will not be much longer till my burning cease.
From the perspective of the deathbirds circling in the gray skies, we likely resemble a line of black ants, dragging our chained feet through the sand in organized procession.
On either side of the line, silver specks slam their boots into the ground with force that shakes the earth. Men made of lusterless steel, armored fingers wrapping around all manner of unfathomable metallurgy. Weapons crafted for slaughter rather than subsistence. Shields made to parry rather than protect.
It has been just over six months since my capture at the hands of the MEN OF FER.
Nobody knows why these soldiers guard the plains of gold, or what vow of silence prevents them from giving a response, but I figure this procession is part of the truth, and that what awaits us is strips the need for a verbal revelation.
"Pretty selfish for a believer."
I jolt in surprise.
It has been so long since I heard another voice. For a moment, it comes off as indecipherable language. "Pardon?"
"I said you're a pretty damn selfish prick for a so-called believer!" When the gruff voice speaks again, I belatedly realize the captive in front of me is using the common tongue.
"I'm sorry," I say, hoping to soothe his anger. "Er... pardon me, sir. You can speak?"
"Speak? Why, some say that's the only thing I'm good for! And you'll be hearing a whole lot more of it if you—" The old man shoots a glance over his left shoulder. I know he did because what follows is an interaction to which I've grown well accustomed. "Eh… forget it."
And so, I gave the response I was accustomed to giving. "You needn't pity me, sir. For I am not blind. These coverings are not for me. They're actually to protect-"
The geezer scoffs lightly. "Yes, and these chains are just a little trinket from my late grandmother. Should see the dress she left me, too… figure I'll be seeing her soon if the heat's starting to get to ya. Just make sure you shit out a few pounds before you become dead weight."
He said this without turning to face me. Had I been in brighter spirit, I might have continued the conversation. But he is right about the heat getting to me. It is getting to all of us. There were six hundred sheep in the plains.
I count one hundred and three.
Most of the bodies—large men, small women, children, and the elderly are still part of the procession, dragged through the scorching sands by the unfortunate captive in front.
Luckily for this elder brother, he and I are located at the very end of the procession. But if I were to fall, the strain on his body would be doubled.
I bow my head and utter a prayer for his safety.
"You're doing it again!" The old man snaps
I tilt my head in confusion. "Pardon?"
"What do you think happens to me when you slow down and start talking to yourself?" He roars.
"Ah. Forgive me, sir. I'll be mindful not to be a burden unto you."
"Ah, forget it!" He complained. "Which gods are you praying to, anyway?"
I pause. "All of them," I tell him. "The Heavens."
"All of them!" The old man breaks into another coughing fit, but this time, I faintly make out the sound of ridicule in his tired wheezing. "Blind and retarded. Why, any one of those reasons is good enough to worship The Heavens. Cruel bastards didn't have to go ahead and give you both!"
This was also a reaction I've grown accustomed to. Amidst the heavy footsteps of the men of steel, it is a bit difficult to hold a conversation. However, it is never a wasted hour to discuss a stranger's belief. "Then what gods do you believe in, brother?"
"Why, any of them, brother. Same as you!" He replies mockingly. "Difference is, I'm not talking about the ones above the clouds. Be it man, monster, or metal, whichever bastard with a sword above my head is as divine a being as any other. So right now, I reckon you and me think up a little gospel or two about these heavy sons of sin."
I grimace.
One would expect an elder to be wise.
Scarce as it is to see old age, this man is older than my grandmother.
Suddenly, a change arises in my field of "vision".
I see colorless flames rapidly ascending from deep below the ones marching across the sand. At the same time, the sound of metal stomps fades out of existence. The strange armor coating flame that distinguishes the men of steel has gone still.
There is a rumbling beneath our feet.
The procession catches the queue and mimics the statue-like stillness, leaving the desert in complete silence. That is, apart from the brother before me. "We can call it, 'I'll suck you off it you don't kill me'-"
"Look out!"
I tackle the fool mere moments before the ground caves in. Grains of sand explode in every direction, tearing through the air like miniature arrows. They rain upon my back, and blood seeps into my stainless white robes.
"Argh! Get off me you… " The flame in his chest wavers.
"You…" I feel the fear in his heart as it accelerates to astonishing pace.
"What…" I feel the confusion in his mind as his fear washes his thoughts blank.
"No…" I feel a shadow cast upon the sand by a creature large enough to block out the sun.
"God… please." And I feel pity for the fool who needs tragedy to turn to faith.
But more than any of those feelings is relief.
I have no reason to fear, for I have long believed in Gods of love. Gods of mercy. Gods of miracles.
The senior unleashes futile blows upon my body, desperate to get away. Narrow-minded as he is, he knows not we needn't run from a creature whose saliva and stinks the air and hisses in the sand.
For the knowledge of Their existence triumphs over all.
I simply clasp my hands in prayer.
"What the hell are you doing, you damn lunatic?!" The unwisened senior demands. "That thing's looking right at us! If you want to die by yourself, then fine, but if I die, I'm not going to the same place you are, so let me live!"
The creature clicks in analysis, pinpointing the source of the heat that roused it.
From the front lines of my memory, I pick up the words of the shepherd's prayer. "Yea though I stand eclipsed under the shadow of death, I fear not the darkness."
The dry howling wind fades out of existence. The cawing of expectant deathbirds fades out of existence. The man's voice fades out of existence. In the entire world, there is nothing but my prayer and the clicking.
"For it takes a single ray of light to illuminate the valley."
There is nothing but my prayer and the clicking.
"And a dazzling flame inside the heart."
There is nothing but my prayer and the clicking.
The clicking stops.
There is nothing but me and my God.
"For you are with me."
The creature's shadow enlarges as it pulls back its colossal head.
"Thy light and thy gaze."
There is nothing but me and my God.
The ground trembles as its lower body shifts underground.
"They comfort me."
There is nothing but me and my God.
"They are my salvation."
It descends like a bolt of lightning from the heavens. I hear it crash against the wind with its maw wide open, the colossal creature falling upon us.
"And today, I am saved."
I turn to face the thing.
Or at least, I should.
My grandmother would. She was always happy to watch the mysterious works of the divine. I once watched a horseman's blade descend upon her through its reflection in her eyes. Despite her age, she was more like steel than any of these steel men who are frozen in fear, rather than confidence. But I—am less than paper.
I feel its breath tingle upon the erect hairs of my nape. I cannot bear to look into the maw of a creature I can not see. On the tip of petrified tongue, there is nothing but me and my God. But in the depths of beating heart, I am going to be swallowed whole. There is nothing divine about it.
***
THE LANDS FORSAKEN | NAMELESS VILLAGE | CHIEF'S COTTAGE
599
I was in the midst of prayer when I heard it. A pair of slacksteel greaves marching across the stone path.
The weight of my head increased tenfold when it came to a halt, a heavy gaze resting atop it.
"Off yer knees, boy." His voice was thick with disdain. "There's not a cloud in that god damn sky, much less a God t' answer yer prayers."
Ignoring him, I clasped my hands tighter, lowering my head even further.
In that moment, the only thing I wanted was for the earth to swallow me whole. For my own grandfather to exist without faith. It was all just too cruel. Too cruel a page in this story.
"Suit yerself," He decided, dropping his equipment by the door. "Don' expect there't'be be any dinner left by the time yer done with yer fit."
Something stirred within my core. A feeling strong enough to lift me off the ground. I spun on my heel to see a leather satchel slung over my grandfather's shoulder. Food? Real food? Today's hunt was successful! Thank God, we hadn't had meat in months! That means her prayer worked! If grandmother were here, she'd-
The stirring in my belly immediately disappeared. Luckily, I didn't manage a step before returning to my knees. Right.
If my grandfather wanted to stuff his face with all kinds of delicious meat, thick with fat and oozing with fragrant oils… then… then that was his blessing solely.
"How kind are the heavens to reward your efforts, grandfather. I will thank them on your behalf."
As for me, I couldn't leave my position for the next three days.
For as long as I could remember, my grandfather's back was the biggest thing in this village. As the village chief, it was his job to carry the world on his shoulders.
He was not a small man by any metric. A gray-haired giant of over six ren tall with veins rippling through his muscles like angry parasitic worms.
"Et Lux aeterna, éclaire."
Three days later, I followed him up the mountain.
My grandfather pretended not to notice me trailing ten steps behind. And It wasn't until we were settled around the living room fire that he finally looked me in the eye.
"Why'd you do it, Solvanel?"
"It was my choice to make."
"I'm not talking about that. Abandoning yer faith is one thing, but why did you reveal her secret to the others?" Grandfather's tone rarely matched his emotion. Up until now, I was without a clue what he thought of last week's ceremony.
I needed a moment to formulate my thoughts. I often had trouble knowing where to begin. But in the end, I stumbled in thought all the way back to my childhood. "Do you remember the time I accidentally brought home one of the candles from Madame Haughton's bougerie?"
My grandfather grasped a hefty log with one arm, laying it before him to prepare the fire. "Continue."
"She told me that a buried sin will grow," I explained. "Grandmother had a responsibility to tell the people of this village the truth, and she fail-"
Grandfather lifted a hand for me to stop. "Stop right there, son. You'll have to be ten times the man that she was before I listen to anything you have to say about responsibility."
He paused, the fire in his chest burning at an intensity that could set the world ablaze. It'd been that way since she died. It was never my intention to stoke his flame. "The issue I have with your little show isn't the truth of it. Not entirely happy about it, but if it had to be done, better you than anybody else. It's what you said at the end that gets to me."
"…"
"I'm disappointed in you, Sol. Thought I raised you better than that. You waited until I was out of the village to do what you thought was right. And then took it a step further by disrespecting my wife."
"That wasn't-"
Grandfather lifted his hand again.
He let a brief silence hang in the air. "If you can say it when I'm gone, then you can say it when I'm here. So I want you to look me in the eye and say it right in front of me."
"…"
"…"
"…"
"Well?"
"I'm already a better lightbringer than she was."
"Aye," He confirmed. "Then you have what it takes to see through the darkness?"
"Yes," I agreed. He knew that. "My eyes can-"
Grandfather lifted his hand. "I know all about those special eyes of yours, son," he acknowledged before continuing. "I'm asking if you have what it takes to take on the cruelty of this world."
I briefly skimmed through the pages of my life. Every other week was marked by some tragedy. My mother and father are dead. My sister and grandmother, too. "There's nothing left for me to lose, grandfather. I've seen all the cruelty this world has to offer."
"That so? This coming from the same Solvanel who can't even look me in the eye."
"For good reason."
"For a reason you think is good," he corrected. "So the next time the darkness descends upon this village, I will see my grandson herding the children?"
"You will."
"The ailing?"
"Certainly."
"The domestics?"
"Yes."
"The hunters?"
"Good. Then I guess that leaves no question about me."
The word rang through the air like the heavy tolls of a church bell. "But you're the leader of the village, grandfather. You're stronger than most of us, combined. Why would you need me to go ahead of you?"
"Because I'm scared, Solvanel. Just as you are." The old man gave a casual response that shattered the concept of the world as I knew it. "For the sake of the argument, I wanted to shoot back a response, but what could I possibly say?
'Stop lying.'? He called lying a coward's agenda.
'Good one, grandfather?' I'd only ever seen him joke with grandmother. Once.
'That's impossible.'? No. And for what reason did I believe it to be? I was there when my grandfather tended to his injuries from the hunts; my grandfather was flesh and blood like the rest of us. The creatures of this world were indeed vicious. Many able to kill before the sword arm twitched. In my years of living, had it really never crossed my mind that the reason my grandfather took so long in the morning to lace his boots was because he was scared to step out of the village?
"If you'd any idea the hells I've seen. The friends slaughtered, screaming, by my side, Solvanel, you'd never uttered those words with confidence. There's a reason you think I'm fearless. S'cause history comes from the those who make it out alive. Your grandmother and I cultivated the image of the holy maiden and an invincible chief, so that fools like you who never set foot outside the village can talk big like ya' did and have a good night's sleep."
"But the truth is, a swordsman's blade can't sever his own shadow, much less the darkness. Haven't a clue how many times I watched her descend into a lightless hell. Nothing but the light inside her heart to save her from the evils taunting her from within. And not only does her grandson tell the world she was nothing. He also believes he'll be the one to eradicate the darkness itself."
"Why, because of some prophecy?"
I averted my gaze with no trace of the bravery I'd spent all morning praying for.
"Prophecy means nothing compared to what I've seen, Solvanel. You might be the light that fell from the heavens, but you are not the one who will eradicate the darkness."
***
THE LANDS FORSAKEN
The worst thing in life isn't silence in response to your prayers. It's being spineless enough to ask in the first place. That's what my grandfather told me on my thirteenth. He died of starvation seven days later. There wasn't much food in the village at the time, but I'd have been happy to share some of my grandmother's arm if he asked.
"Move!" Everything comes back into existence as the old man musters some unknown strength. He slithers out from under me and dives into the sunlight. Our connecting chains pulling me out of god's hungry shadow.
BOOM!
A shiver runs through the desert. The creature's mass collides with the sand mere inches from my face and burrows deep underground. Its descent goes on for an infinity. As if the length of its body is forever.
Then, it is gone.
The barren wasteland returns to its signature silence. For a moment, I think myself dead. I reach for my chest in a state of blank mental disarray.
I am alive.
My inner flame simmers—it burns—but it is cold.
I can barely make out the old geezer's pants. He lies on his back like an overturned shell. "I- Is it gone?"
"You fool," I sin under a harsh whisper.
"Fool?" The old man repeats. "Fool! You cultist bastards are all the same. Haven't a sliver of gratitude if reason hit you in the face. You think I didn't see your face when you realized your God wasn't coming to save you? Weren't it for me and these chains, you'd be dead!"
"The first sin to the self is blindness," I tell him, grain burning in my balled up fists. "I need not your understanding towards my earlier actions, heathen. It is clear that the wisdom of your age merely amounts to what you've seen. You jest the blindness of my eyes, but your ailment is far worse than my supposed. For you suffer from blindness of the heart. And if things play out the way I expect, it may very well have been the death of you."
Internally, I barely keep in the truth that my dying under these circumstances was an impossibility. It would only addle his mind even further than the old age has already suffered him.
Deep under the sands, grainy flames rouse from a quiet slumber.
Pages flipped in my mind as I ran through distant memories. Back when I still wanted to be a hunter, I spent a considerable amount of time buried in the pages of my grandfather's bestiary.
Habitat: Desert
Eating Habits: Carnivore
Hunting Method: Ambush, Physical Attacks
Think, Solvanel! Think!
There aren't many species native to the desert. The conditions are far too harsh. Furthermore, a small population means a small food source, not to mention that we haven't seen a natural source of water in ages. And the creatures live underground! Right. If it was resting underground when it was discovered us, that means it doesn't rely on sight to catch its prey.
Taste is out of the question, too. Smell and sound, too.
Come on, Solvanel! If you don't come up with an answer, these good people are going to-
BOOM!
As if on cue, I hear rhythmic thumping in the sands.
BOOM!
The men of steel are moving again.
BOOM!
Six suits of armor march in unison, their flames burning in perfect synergy. Every step is a muffled thunder into the sand. I'd think them protectors if I were foolish. I'd think them one if I were blind.
BOOM!
The flames underneath ignite in a frenzy. The creature will not be alone when it bursts out of the ground.
BOOM!
Our captors station at six points, forming a perfect hexagonal ring around us. The procession grows restless at the sight. My sheep expect another culling. I take their wavering embers to mean that weapons have been drawn. Any second now, they're going to forget the chains and take off running.
"Please, no!"
"We thought you wanted us to stop!"
"That thing came out of nowhere! Aren't you supposed to protect us?"
The flames underneath are tunneling up.
All too late and all too meaningless, I've finally figured out what kind of creature was trying to make us its prey, and I know exactly what the men of steel are trying to do. It is more than I am capable.
Perhaps this isn't a trial after all...
Or rather, this isn't the real trial.
I stand upright and reach into my pocket for the last of saving grace.
Paralysis!
The people, including myself, instantly fall into a trance.
The men of steel do not notice the sudden quiet, nor do they show any signs of hearing the previous clamor. That is because for these unbreakable soldiers, whose weapons made to kill and armor made to endure, there is nothing but their troop and the enemy.
BOOM!
There is nothing but the men of steel and their enemy.
BOOM!
There is nothing but steel and the enemy.
BOOM!
There is nothing but their weapons and the enemy.
BOOM!
The captives do not exist.
Several flames break out of the ground in matching unison. As the men of steel calculated, none of these monsters emerges from within the ring, but they are… great.
Unfathomable.
Omnipotent.
Transcendent.
Merciless.
To the sheep, any one of these beings, with their oakwood large teeth and untamed forest maws, is more than the wolves of spoken tale. They float in midair at the apex of their jump, blocking out the light of the sun like the six-fingered hand of some disfigured God.
As they descend, a rippling screech shoots across a dying land.
As for the sheep, I dare not let myself hear them weep.
And yet, to our silent captors, these beings are simply the enemy.
And for the enemy, there is nothing but the blade.
A weapon flies into the air from each point on the hexagon. I make out silver spears covered in the same grayish light. The lords' breath of life, bastardized and used to kill.
It is unfathomable. Omnipotent. Transcendent.
Merciless.
"You fool…" I whisper to myself in awe.
This battle is no different from the ones we know. Ne'er a corpse, nor a weapon falls in the aftermath. Just the uncaring silence of gods killing gods on a forsaken land.
The men of steel turn on their unanimous heel and resume the march without pause.
BOOM! — BOOM! — BOOM!
Hearing this, I allow the sheep their freedom of movement. Most of them collapse to the ground, screaming. Others, crying. Some are now corpses that lost their flame in the heat.
One hundred sheep left in the pen.
But the halt does not last for long: One by one, they pick themselves up and drag their feet and the dead of their flock across burning sand.
Because the aftermath of each battle is an endless march. And we know men of steel do not tarry for the weakness of flesh and bone.
Still, I keep my gaze to the sky until the last moment before my chain tightens. I am looking past the clouds and even the sun, whose light exists only in a far-off and distant horizon, to remind myself that while these showings are great, they are nothing compared to those who watch me from above. Those who have me walk the earth in order to change it for the better.
My name is Solvanel, The Light That Fell From The Heavens, and my goal is not to be unfathomable—it is to understand. My goal is not to be omnipotent, but to be in the place where I am needed most. And it is not to be a transcendent—far from it. I am destined to help others transcend the shackles of darkness.
Even though I'm alone… I can still feel the warmth of love.
It's as close as in my right pocket.
I grip my grandmother's severed finger, knowing it was love that led her astray. And it was love that made me her light. It was love that inspired The Gods to make this world a promise.
And I believe in a promise that everything will be fine.