Hope

Irwyn bled. Suffered. It was… difficult to properly parse. He had never been in pain before. He had never been genuinely hurt prior. Not once since before the beginning of time. Which either made it worse or better. He could not tell, partly because of the sheer shock and incomprehension of it. He was the son of light and flame. How could he even suffer this way?

It was dark. Beyond pitch black. That was only to be expected on Umbra’s Solstice, of course. He had chosen to do what he did exactly because of that. To hide. Mother was too worried and would not allow him to try what he had done. In hindsight, she had been right. He had not been as ready as he had thought. His blood dripped like ichor into the grass. Plap, plap, as it sizzled and burned. But the pitch of night did not relent one bit because of that. Such was the compromise, that no light would be for one day of every year.

“Ignis Lumen,” he whispered, shaking. It barely glowed. Barely more distinct than meaningless words. Yes, he bled but the real wound was much, much deeper. He felt it, in his very soul, a damaged bond. And beyond it was what he had thought unthinkable:

A cracked Name.

It was an impossibility. And yet he had done it to himself. Accidentally, but achieved it nonetheless. And so, he lay in the grass bleeding and terrified. Of what his Mother would think. Of what she would ask of him in her worry. If what he had done could be mended. Plap, plap. More blood flowed. He realized he was no longer lying on grass but in a small scorched circle. It didn’t matter but anything that could distract him was worthwhile.

Because then dawn came.

In the same blink of an eye that the first rays of sunlight moved past the horizon, Lumen was there. It was a misconception of so many mortals that the Lightmother had a form, which she did not. The Aspects were nature, utter purity of omnipotence. Because light was not merely part of her domain. Lumen was light. Every candle, every dim ember, every flashing spark, every source of the slightest glow. She simply was every. single. one.

Of course, some light was more her than others. The purity of the Cradle where she had been first formed was incomparable to a mere bonfire. And her attention was technically finite, albeit incomprehensibly universal. But it was undeniable. Lumen was light. She was also simultaneously worried and furious. Rays caressed him reassuringly, yet also tugged at his ear and elbow in disapproval while ever more fussed over each of his wounds with worry, seeking to mend the broken as Irwyn’s mother spoke:

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO YOURSELF?

“I am sorry, mom,” he would have shrunk if he was not already lying on the ground. “I couldn’t help myself. I had to know. I had to try even when you told me not to.”

FOOLISH. DANGEROUS. I FEEL IT. YOU HAVE HURT MORE THAN THE BODY. THE SOUL. YOUR VERY NAME.

“I know,” Irwyn softly nodded. “I am really sorry I didn’t listen to you… Can it be fixed?”

Then Irwyn felt reality buckle. An Aspect had made a demand. More than a mere Edict that needed to be spoken. Just a metamorphosis of existence itself. For why would its creator require pleading or permission to change that which they had wrought from their very selves? Irwyn felt the Edict pass through him and restore everything into perfection.

Cracks closed. Wounds vanished. His Name glowed again. His great failure, erased with less than a thought without a trace.

IT IS NOT SO SIMPLE. EVEN YOUR FATHER CANNOT EASILY RECREATE WHAT IS TRULY LOST. TIME CAN ONLY BE BENT BACKWARDS SO FAR. EVEN THIS MEMORY OF IT WILL CHANGE YOU EVERMORE.

“I… I had to try. I told you why,” Irwyn tried to justify himself, knowing it would be futile. They had not resolved a disagreement before this way.

AND I HAVE FORBIDDEN IT. YET YOU DID NOT LISTEN.

“When my brother did it he was not hurt!” Irwyn defended.

YOUR HALF-BROTHER HAD QUARTER OF YOUR AMBITION. CREATED A FRACTION OF WHAT YOU SEEK TO MAKE. THAT IS WHY I HAVE FORBIDDEN IT. YOU KNOW THIS.

“It’s not fair!” Irwyn bit his lip and insisted. “I want it. No, I need it. I need to create my own Edict. Create true meaning for the Name you and Father had given me. More than just the one for mere Stars. How can I aim for anything less than impossible?”

YOU WILL NOT STOP.

“I cannot,” Irwyn nodded at the conclusion. “I am sorry but it occupies my every thought. Every moment of every day I think about it. I just… cannot simply put it aside. But if you help me Mother I could do it better. Safer. Will you do that for me, please?”

I UNDERSTAND. THEN THERE IS ONLY ONE CHOICE. I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU ANY HARM.

And for a moment Irwyn smiled, misunderstanding the meaning of those words. Because his mother was protective and he trusted her. Because he had been so very naïve. Because fulfillment was not a virtue his mother acknowledged. Temperance was.

SO, YOU MUST BIND YOURSELF. FORSAKE CREATION. PATIENCE WILL PREVAIL WITH TEMPTATION BEYOND REACH. SWEAR IT TO ME, MY SON.

“I…?” Irwyn froze, more shocked by the words than he had been by his wounds. “No! I don’t want that!”

BUT YOU WILL BE HURT OTHERWISE. THAT CANNOT BE ACCEPTED.

“What of magic? What of the Stars?” Irwyn scrambled to argue with light. “I have never been hurt with those!”

THEN KEEP WHAT YOU HAVE ALREADY ACCOMPLISHED. WHAT YOU HAVE ALREADY PROVEN. BUT THAT AND ONLY THAT. NOTHING NEW. NOTHING CREATED FROM NAUGHT.

“Please, don’t,” Irwyn felt choked. “I don’t want to give that up forever.”

NOT FOREVER, CHILD. BUT UNTIL YOU UNDERSTAND HUMILITY, ABANDON RECKLESSNESS. UNTIL I RELEASE YOU FROM IT. SWEAR TO ME.

And Irwyn felt all of reality shift with attention. Logos watched through the strings of fate so eager to form. Chronos beheld as he would all things in time. ______ from the edges of Irwyn’s soul. Astermus through the dirt and wind, while Vitaros through the grass and trees. Even Ignis took notice through the burning sparks of Irwyn’s drying blood. Only Parios chose not to observe, the Toolbearer as disinterested as ever.

And of course they came to see. For this was a historic moment. For there have been oaths before. Promises made, promises broken. Between mortals, perhaps even immortals. But this? This was an Aspect demanding it. An oath that would be made with something above reality itself. That had never happened before. Perhaps not since. It was not wrought through fate. It was more. Because the Aspects created, gave direction. Haggled restrictions between each other. What weaknesses and strengths to inflict to form a balance. But it would be foolish to believe that they themselves adhered to their own rules. That they believed in the concept of impossible.

And Irwyn knew that, with unerring certainty. He had not existed when The-flame-that-is-origin made 8 others from himself but he had been told how. How something could be forced to become fundamentally different. That had been what he had attempted to do today after all. At what he had failed and was being punished for.

He had meant to create an Edict that was more than an Edict. More than Stars. More than what new Names were born along with. He had reached for the impossible – and failed in his hubris.

Of course, his mother did not see it that way. He knew that in her omnipresent eyes it was not punitive. Merely protective. And although it hurt him, he noticed the worried caress of light on his skin and knew he could not refuse. Because it was the least he could do for his mother to dissuade her worries. He would have to prove himself. Convince her that he was ready until one day she believed him and released the oath.

And so he swore.

It was, after all, not meant to last forever.