To Fly the Soaring Tides

"Nooo!! Don't do it Gier!" Is what I wished I had said. All I could manage was to stay on my feet, blinded by the finality of this day. It was exactly what my friend wanted, but watching it go down from a few feet away was too much to bear.

"I accept your terms." Gier took a deep breath, and his face calmed. The blatant serenity in his eyes was enough for me to know this was it. As much as I hated it, I had to feel grateful. Nothing had gone wrong on this trip, and everything had finally fallen into place.

"Many may bloom, but she who bears the first seed of hatred shall be named Gwyndolyn. And as the scorching sun, she shall also burn this seed to ash." For the first time since leaving the boat, Gier started to shiver. His eyes went wide, but I could tell he was struggling to make sense of these statements. "Those are words I spoke some millennia ago. There was never anything you could do, for her death was previously ordained. As for the purpose… Since their inception, these skies have never known anything but death. This is not something you should bemoan, but welcome, given your nature. Consider this the human condition. Separation from Yore is my vision, and in this dream will the skies know freedom at long last. I only hope this answer sets you free as well. Now just let me know when you are ready… This is your final moment, Gier of the dying skies."

My old friend seemed younger than I had ever known in that moment. His eyes shined with a youthful determination that was only natural after watching him claw his way forth to be here today. The culmination of all his efforts in life condensed into this final moment.

"Demon Kazali. Standing before you now, I finally get it. You are even more powerless than I, and nothing you do can cause me further pain. Kill me if you wish. It is no less than what I came here for, so it's fitting that it should be my destiny. I am nothing. Just one in a long line of many—a powerless man at the end of his life. A single seed of hatred… but you will not forget me. You will remember this pain, this anguish. Remember these eyes, for you will see them again on the day you die. I can only hope that when that day comes, you will finally be granted the pain of this so-called mortal coil. The pain afforded to those who lived."

I watched breathlessly as the demon reached out his arm and picked Gier up by the throat. Like picking up a doll, he raised him to eye level. The demon seemed to take a lasting glance at his face. The years of resentment and resolute hatred in my friend's eyes was like nothing I had ever seen. As if it was meant to be remembered, etched into the soul, this moment seemed to stretch on. But at the same time its end blindsided me.

"Farewell." The demon's fist clenched and I heard a snap. Before I could even look down, my friend's body crashed into the ground. The blood which poured from his skull unbidden filled in the cracks in the brick.

Rage consumed me, but I couldn't move. No matter how hard I tried, not even a whisper emerged. It took me that long just to remember, and I found myself gasping for shallow breaths.

"Now… you." Kazali looked me dead in the eyes and I swear my soul tried to flee my body. "Much more than an observer. A scribe. It is through you that Gier's final words shall transcend time, is it not?"

"Wh-what…" I knew the words coming out of his mouth, but I was stunned. "What are you saying?"

"Your friend, Gier. He was always meant to hold little bearing on this world. To quickly fade away." Before I even knew it, the demon loomed over me now, and me alone, "But moss on a stone may one day overtake the precipice. In the proliferous light of countless passing suns, even mere moss may reinforce the surrounding land, and prevent it from falling to the sea of time. Like a moth to the flame, you watched your friend seek me out, and you witnessed the first seed turn to ash.

"From the first, to the last…" Kazali continued, "They will all turn to ash. And in the end, a flower will bloom. Once I pluck it, these skies may finally exist uninhibited, and this world will be allowed to move on at last. Now go. Let those who are yet to see this world know of this day."

The village was gone and that all-consuming darkness had surrounded me again. I don't know if the demon was still before me, because his presence was everywhere in these skies. That heavy feeling we all felt on the first day the sun forgot to rise was the very same, we just failed to make the connection.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I could finally move, and my body did so instinctively. A narrow path through the shadows lit my path in dim remorse as I ran back to the skiff a blubbering mess.

Did I really just deliver my friend to his death? Was this really what he wanted? I didn't know anymore, but I couldn't change anything now.

Gier paid me ten silver, a thousand suppers, and countless memories to complete a job. His children deserve to know what happened here. No matter how much scorn awaits this powerless scribe, they deserve to know the man I knew.

And with that, as the boat carried me back through the abyss, I considered the job complete. Gier was a good friend, and a greater man than I will likely ever be. May his soul find Gwyndolyn's in the next life.

Cira slammed the book shut. She felt cold sweat in stark contrast to the hot sun, and her breath was shallow and sharp. Her hands trembled as she stared at the cover.

Did the Archive choose this book for me…? Cira saw the world around her as a blur, dim as the world she used to know. She couldn't stop trembling. Or was it him…?

Trent couldn't have known that Gier's soul would never continue to the next life, but Cira hoped he found peace.

Is this what causality is? I get the feeling I've hardly scratched the surface. Just how long was that demon waiting for Gier to arrive? And why…? Gwyndolyn's death in 'the purge' was what drove him there. Kazali called him the first seed of hatred. As if he anticipated slaughtering a majority of all life would set things in motion according to his plans.

It stands for reason this is why Trent was allowed to leave alive… But what could he hoped to set in motion by letting such a bleak story survive the throes of time?

Perhaps a warning to others of that era? I doubt he felt very threatened following the primordial genocide. Perhaps a warning to a select few forces he knew would survive and could challenge him?

The problem with that theory was that Gier's defeat was not a very impressive one. Anyone strong enough to go challenge an ancient demon probably wouldn't learn anything compromising from these pages.

Cira grew frustrated trying to decipher meaning from something she only read about happening so long ago. The law of causality was proving to be far more complex than her preferred style of demanding reality conform to her will.

Even if that bastard wanted me to read this book… It feels awfully arrogant even considering such an idea. I like to think Gier was worth much more than making me uncomfortable for a day. The life he lived, no matter how mundane, was not something that should be reduced to such trivialities.

On one hand, Cira felt her privacy had been invaded again. She really wished people would stop butting into her life, no matter how abstract the methods. Regardless of if it was for her specifically, Kazali indeed ensured this book would live on. It didn't even seem unreasonable to presume he intended for it to end up in the Archive.

But here? In the Village of the First Mark? That it appeared in my very hands today… Could even that demon accomplish something like this?

No… Even if he hoped this book would find me, does it matter? The Archive thought I should read it.

Cira still lacked even the faintest clue of what the Archive actually was beyond some kind of amalgamation of the world's knowledge. But during her time in the village, she had at least learned something of its intent.

Being the excellent judge of character Cira was, she did not believe the Archive wished her ill-intent. It had only hurt those who disturbed others in their pursuit, and not once had it given her a book she regretted reading. Even the 'Immaculate Arts of Housekeeping' gave her a rich introspective to the way residents of some skies may view the service industry.

So, who cares about Kazali? If he has to strangle a powerless old man to death just to make a young girl feel bad about herself a thousand years later, then he is a trifle I shouldn't even bother myself with. I'm better than that, aren't I? This is my path to walk. No matter how hard that demon tries to throw me off it, he will fail.

I won't face him tomorrow, nor will I die cradling a book like the nameless second mark. Even if I don't know where I'm going, I'll reach it one day, unfettered by a rotten log like Kazali.

"Alright then, Archive." Cira reached out her hand and hoped the next book would make her equally unsettled. She had been learning that there was much value in wisdom attained outside of one's comfort zone, and just knew this next tale would be a good one. "Let's see what you got next—wait, what?"

Cira's hand brushed off the spine as it grew further from her grasp. Gently rising to the sky, Cira stretched, trying to grasp at the book, but it was no use.

"N-no! Why?" She looked over the village and all her fellow readers were watching the scene unfold. Cira's complaints quieted as she noticed a faint purple light swirling around her. "Huh…?"

The light twisted around, illuminating the whole village before one stream finally flowed into her chest. Like a pleasant breeze, she could feel it brushing over her soul. Before she even had time to think, the light had disappeared completely into her, and she was falling.