Heir of the Fog

Yielding to the Sun

As understanding of the third rule settled over me, the long sleep came. Darkness closed in, and the dream realm rose before me again, a strange place I nevertheless knew.

It was the memory of the warlocks sacrificing themselves, a dream I had only once but would never forget. This time, I watched from above as each warlock was hit by sunlight and burned.

The last time I had this dream, I saw through my own eyes, the ones from the child on the altar, about to be burned alive with the rest of them.

Finally, that same warlock chanted again amid the screams of the burning. "Feed flame with flame until all be consumed; from the embers of that devouring shall the eternal arise, the subtle essence that pervadeth every thing, as one worm devoureth the other and thus the image is made manifest."

The same sacrifice was repeated as before when the ceiling cracked open. Sunlight hit my body and it burned, but I felt no pain this time; I only watched myself suffer. This was a sacrifice from a time before the fog.

Having this dream again made me realize much of what I couldn't understand back then. The Sun was truly their God, perhaps even more than that. They returned their blessings through death, and the ritual aimed those blessings toward a purpose.

Mana and will tangled together. Their blessings reverted to a fundamental nature, and the Sun drew that current toward the charred body on the altar—my body.

A fragment of the Sun itself resided there, the same warm signature that had followed me through every long sleep, the same presence that had stood in my mind library with the others of me, a fragment that, over time, became part of me.

My mind was no longer fragmented as it once had been. Where I was once many, now only one remained. Parts of all of them still lived, though. I was Omen, I was Subject five-four-three-nine, and I was also a fragment of the Sun itself.

However, I saw clearly there was more to it, Kara herself.

A source of knowledge that the others' fragments didn't spare, torn apart for what she knew, little by little, during every long sleep. It was the source of many changes and greatly shaped my understanding of biology itself. Still, it came at the cost of my greatest companion.

She might have considered herself just a machine, but she was so much more than that. Regrettably, I never had the chance to say my goodbyes, nor would I ever know if she was aware of it. After all, she was often silent and omitted much of what she thought wasn't necessary for me to know.

Understanding of endings would never ease the mourning I felt for those who fell. Kara herself would only be remembered by me—my claim, one I would make sure would not be forgotten as long as I lived.

However, beyond the mourning, the question remained.

Why did they need a fragment of the Sun? To create a proper avatar for Him? Was that all I was—just a vessel in the making…?

The idea of being nothing more than a vessel troubled me, something completely out of my control. But even beyond that, the Sun had a purpose here, inside Araksiun, one for which He deemed it necessary to send a piece of Himself. He hadn't yet chosen to reveal why, but that made me wonder if his influence within Araksiun was in fact… limited.

I had little time to ponder because the dream disappeared as another started to form, the mind library, with its long, tall corridors and rows upon rows of shelves filled with thousands of books. There I walked, this time alone, as no other me was there.

The silence was soon broken as a voice echoed through it. "A beast must not merely survive; it must bind what survived."

It was the same voices that spoke when I became onyx and then crimson. This time, they guided me towards auric, stating the rules I should follow. Ascending toward godhood had begun, and I could hardly believe it. While Winged Death had centuries to prepare, I had little time to understand what was happening or to accept the impending changes.

The voices cared little for what troubled me, as they continued. "It wields Brutality with cunning intent, using Guile to persevere, but it is through Claim that it finds its purpose," this one spoke as if right behind me. I turned, yet nothing was there; but the same voice echoed again. "Because what endures without mark is ash in the end. What is claimed resists forgetting, even as it dies."

Then a third. "Dominate. Conquer. Control. Then leave a mark—your claim. Only then can you guide it towards a purpose. Life itself deems a reason to exist."

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

My heart core thrummed so loudly that books toppled from the shelves. Its crimson hue bled away and became something more… gold. The auric form, the ascension toward godhood, though I felt nowhere near ready. To continue blindly was beyond me.

I feared having no control over the changes and turning into a giant monster. The form of Sjakthar was the only thing in my mind, and I was deeply afraid of becoming something like that.

"Enough of your riddles and rules! Show yourself and speak plainly, or I will not abide by your rules." I shouted, challenging the unseen force that sought to reshape all beings within the fog.

When I first challenged it during Rogara's evolution toward onyx, it granted me control. This time, however, a relentless pressure far beyond my own pushed against me, and its denial was made clear.

Mana flooded my veins until I felt as if I were drowning in it. I dared again. "Show yourself. You who play with lives, who lock us within our wards. Show yourself this once."

Light pressed through the library windows and shattered them. His domain could extend even into this dream realm, this place within my own mind. I pushed my will forward, trying to seize control. But the Sun itself, the one who controlled the fog and all the beasts within, was simply beyond my reach.

"Your people locked yourselves, not I." The Sun spoke to me, its voice making my head ache. "Angry not for what was expected, if not the fog, something else. The only incognita has always been time and the means; start and ends never change."

Despite the pain His voice brought upon me, this was a chance beyond what I expected, to speak with the one who knew all secrets. "I laid a claim upon something important to you. Did this make you angry? Is that why you deny me control?"

His voice was strangely calm despite the pressure and pain it caused. "Your inheritance," He said.

Inheritance?

Despite my doubts, I didn't dare ask further because I had more urgent questions and wasn't sure how much of His voice I could handle. "The rules, why do you impose them? Is this for your sickly amusement?" I asked.

"They are not born of whim, but of need. Strip them away, and only the gnashing of chaos remains." He said, showing no anger at my question. Yet I began to feel His gaze upon me, a presence in the dream realm so vast it made even Sjakthar's power seem small.

"The world existed before your rules, before mana itself," I questioned Him. I had little memory of that age, but I knew we had once built entire civilizations. Legends claimed there had been millions of us across the world, alongside countless other species.

"Where breath is drawn, the rules are woven. Where breath multiplies, the weave thickens. And as the threads entwine, the snarl of chaos loosens and fades." His voice was clear, though the meaning was not.

Though I got the impression He was telling me that where there is life, mana multiplies, but if it did, corruption would inevitably arise over time, as life began to spread. "So it all ends with fog?" I dared ask, my head already feeling as if it were about to burst.

"No. Life heeds patience. It shifts as mountains shift, grain by grain, over the span of uncounted ages. Thus it was meant to be."

"Meant to be?" I asked. "So you are not the one who caused it?"

"What reason would I have to hasten dusk when dawn has barely broken? All I do is make sure the wheel keeps spinning, as it always has."

Was he suggesting that we were responsible for this? That we were the reason for the fog?

The Sun didn't seem to have any intention to confuse or mislead me; that simply appeared to be how such an ancient being spoke, but I could scarcely understand what he meant. Maybe he was saying that given time, the beings of this planet would be born with cores, but for some reason, the level of mana increased too quickly for life to keep up. Or, at least, I thought that was what He meant.

Bracing myself for His voice again, I asked, "By what means may the fog be reversed? Or... by what power can our wards be restored?" These were the most important questions, the very reason I had ventured into the fog. To uncover the answer might be the key to restoring humanity itself.

"You should have known already," He told me. But I didn't. I tried to think about whether any of what I knew could be used to refuel the Obelisks, yet I had no idea how. Seeing my confusion, He asked, "What do you understand about the rules?"

"It's through correctly wielding destruction that one can bring a true ending. It's through perseverance that the continuation of life can be achieved, and it's through leaving a mark on what endured that a purpose in life can be found; after all, life deems a meaning," I recited, my solid understanding of all three rules.

"Marvelous… such vision is rare, yet I expected it of you. For within you lives a shard of my own. It left a Claim upon your soul long ago, and from the first step, it has guided your path."

"What?" I asked, astonished. Memories flooded back of all the times I felt compassion for the fog, and how praise had come effortlessly. It clicked; just as Rogara had praised me naturally, I had instinctively praised the fog without even understanding why.

"My rules are meant to guide life and death," the Sun continued, uncaring of my trembling demeanor. "Brutality is part of Ending, Guile is part of Continuance, and Claim is part of Imprint. You can guess the last one, but only the future will tell if you will understand it."

Each rule carried meaning far beyond my initial understanding, all of which were deeply connected to the cycle. But I had endured His voice too much; it weakened me, leaving me without the will to challenge His hold, and with that, my fight for control over the changes receded.

Maybe it was His plan—these few answers came at a great cost. But alas, He didn't tell me how to refuel the Obelisks or how to reverse the fog. If the answers were within the rules, then I couldn't guess how.

Little by little, the library vanished around me, leaving darkness and a dreamless sleep. Though I dared not think about what I would see upon my waking. Would I recognize myself as human? Or would this be the moment when every resemblance to humanity would be lost?

I dared not think, but I hoped He would not turn me into a titanic monstrosity. I clung to the hope that I could retain at least some aspect of my humanity. Hoping that once I was back within the wards, no one would question my humanity, but also fearing that even the ward might keep me out.