Chapter 1: Earth
Chapter Text
To Your Most Glorious Imperial Majesty, Highest Upon the Earth, Lord of the Skies and Master of the Seas, Ethelberd IX Sechtimus, EMYR,
Your humble servant presents a curious folio of tales and lore, all relating to a certain “lost” so-called “Divine” Dragon, recovered via reconnaissance into the ruins near the minor Noradian hamburg of Kardia. While Your humble servant knows Your Imperial Majesty has no interest in ordinary spurious myths and pablum, Your humble servant ventures to note that the folio differs in its views both from the ignorant dragon-worshippers of Norad and Your Imperial Majesty’s learned and scholarly citizens of Sechs. It seems likely this folio is older than both nations.
Knowing of Your Imperial Majesty’s deep scholarship and investigation into the true power of the “Divine” Dragons, Your humble servant ventures to present these to Your Imperial Majesty alongside the body of our reports. Of course, Your humble servant has no doubt that Your Imperial Majesty will find them trivial, for Your glorious conquest of all upon the wings of the mighty Terrable is already at hand. Your humble servant hopes only that Your Imperial Majesty may find some small diversion in these tales before Your glorious victory over Norad is complete.
Long Be the Dominion of the Sechs,
——-
(The letter is yellow and faded with age, and after it was retrieved from the ruins of the Sechs imperial capital, some careless Noradian records-keeper had spilled ink across its bottom half. The writer’s signature is no longer visible.)
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The First Taboo
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Amarukas, the Divine Love, heard the last words of his first love in a peaceful garden.
His high priest had simply grown too frail with the passing of age. There was nothing untoward or unexpected about the man’s decline, for that was the lot of mortals, even ones beloved by a dragon god. So now the priest’s bony fingers hung weakly upon Amarukas’s claw, where once he had clasped it heartily. His once-resonant voice was now little more than a whisper, and his skin seemed as white as his hair. Yet the emerald of his eyes and the clarity of his gaze had not faded along with all else about him, and those eyes now fixed upon the draconic visage of his god one last time.
“My lord, please... excuse my hasty departure. Watch over our people... and lead them to...”
“... I shall. I swear it.”
Thus ironically, a god swore devotion to the memory of his first devotee. Or perhaps it was not so ironic, for Amarukas, the Divine Dragon of Love, could not be expected to do otherwise. So the humans of the first priest’s clan became known as the First Men, and grew in blessings and in power, in strength and in number, until their cities came to tower above those of all of the other races in the young world.
“Are you not being too biased for a god?” said Lumenivia, his eldest sister, the Divine Light.
“Stop being foolishly attached. That mortal’s gone already.” snapped Umbradea, his somewhat less elder sister, the Divine Darkness.
But Amarukas, being the third brother and still rather highly ranked among the gods, did not pay them much heed. For the people he loved needed his care more than the affairs of the dragon gods.
So the empire of the First Men continued to grow in power and might, and in magic, and in height. The final tower they built rose so high above the young world that some said it rivalled the dragon gods themselves. Lumenivia simply rolled her eyes at that and left on her duties, while Umbradea muttered darkly but did the same, and the youngest four - well, Amarukas didn’t really pay much attention to them back then. The flourishing of his people was what brought him great joy, for as his high priest had taught him, what was the duty of a parent except to wish that his children exceeded him?
And so it was that, under the loving gaze of their god, the First Men pierced the cosmos in their tower and their hubris - and awoke the Fathomless Dread. And when the pieces of time and space and gold and dark scales had finally settled, Lumenivia and Umbradea and many brave Earthmates were gone, and Amarukas stood solitary before the shattered tower.
“Brother,” said his youngest sister Ventuswill, the Divine Wind, timidly from far behind him, where the other three had protected her, “what ought we to do now?”
“You must rule now.” declared his eldest remaining sibling Terrable, the Divine Earth, “ Give us the word, and we shall recreate the world just as you wish.”
“No,” said Amarukas, and could not look at them as he sank the remnants of the tower of his people deep into the earth. None could agree afterwards if he had done so - forever entombed the monstrous and corrupted remnants of the First Men into a labyrinth under the world - for their sake, for the world’s sake, or as the last apology he could offer to his two eldest sisters.
“Recreate the world as you wish. You have wisdom, and courage, and strength, and life among you. You shall be the guardians of this world, and I... am unfit to rule over anyone.”
And so Amarukas, the Divine Dragon of Love, formed his first taboo and exiled himself into the world, leaving its rule to the remaining four Divine Dragons. For a god must act for the good of the whole world, and never for his own joy.
******
Lucas
******
“A moment, please...”
“Yes?”
Hearing the footsteps upon the path behind me, I turn to ask the next passing ranger the same question I had asked several others before— and stop abruptly.
Extraordinary.
“Um, how can I help you...?”
Truly extraordinary. I can find no other words to describe what I see before me, so I beg your pardon for simply referring to you as “you”.
I had not known humans could be so different. Passing other humans on the road, I had noted ones with hair of black and gold, and skin dark and light. But I had never encountered one with a head so vast and round - and orange - as yours. A tuft of green protrudes from the very top, and your features appear to be a set of black holes carved into the expanse of your face. Utterly fascinating. How had your voice been produced without moving lips?
But I am being impolite by gawking, and catch myself. “—Yes. If I may ask, do you know who I am? I am afraid I do not.”
Your great orange face does not change expression, but it does tilt to the side slightly. Are you puzzled, or is this a different gesture among your people? I must make a note of this.
“Sorry. I don’t think I do, but what d— wah!! ”
I blink. That had been a yelp of surprise at the end of your sentence. Or was that simply your way of speech?
“Then you do not know? My apologies. I should leave you to—”
“Wait, don’t turn around yet! I- I might remember, so give me a second to— Saru, go back— ”
Strange. You appear desperate, and your hands are gesticulating wildly, but I do not see what could have... oh! Of course. You must be speaking to someone behind me.
I turn to give an apology for ignoring their presence, and just as you yelp “ stop—”, come face-to-face with great yellow eyes set into a vast blue-furred snout.
“—ah, were you waiting to speak to this ranger? My apologies.”
I step to the side so that you and the great blue-furred fox may converse. However, silence ensues, and oddly neither of you move. The fox only stares at me with unblinking yellow eyes, and despite your frozen features, your posture tells me that you are utterly bewildered.
“... um. You— wait. You’re not scared of...?”
I am confused. “Ought I to be?”
“I— no! I mean, it’s just...” you appear to be struggling with your words. “Saru’s... she’s huge. And a fox. And a nine-tailed fox . I’ve been trying to get people used to her for a week and only today did Captain Livia actually let me bring her into the Silo yard, since the only people around here are the blacksmiths an— Saru! Hey!”
The great snout of the fox noses at my hair, producing a sensation that I must describe as “ticklish”. Then, with a warm sniff , the fox turns and pads away.
“......”
As you do not speak, I decide I must take the chance to record this singular turn of events, but I have just set pen to paper when you blurt out, “she likes you?”
“She does? Interesting.” I note that down carefully. “Was that the method of affection foxes use, then?”
“W- what? Well, I mean... she didn’t even growl and she even turned her back on you, so that means she actually trus— ah, hold on! I can’t let her wander—”
With that last interrupted recollection, you run after the great fox, and I conclude I ought to be on my way as well. But I find myself intrigued even as I begin walking towards the town, for so many varied things had occurred within so short a time. I could not help hoping there might be more. Perhaps someone here may know who I am after all, or why I recall nothing whatsoever except perhaps my name. And I wonder if I shall discover the secret of your great orange head?
Though I receive no direct answers, I find in short order that I was absolutely correct about how fascinating this village would be.
Firstly, I am waylaid by the village children within a great tree-covered square. The one I shall later know as Julian, believing me to be a magician, presses me into attempting a few magic tricks, and I find that I am more than adequate at teleporting small objects. Conclusion: I may indeed be a magician.
Secondly, an audience gathers as I continue to perform various tricks, and I discover that seeing their excitement gives me joy, a deeply pleasant emotion. I furthermore find that I do not wish to disappoint them. Conclusion: I am very likely a performer and a magician.
But thirdly, you - of the great orange head - return just as I am about to begin a trick with a valuable crystal, and the sight of you startles me into teleporting the crystal into your pocket. The audience takes it as an ingenious prank, but I am left pensive. If I were truly a magician, I should not have been so easily distracted. But what if the distraction were simply from you - and perhaps you were also a magician of your kind?
Conclusion: I am intrigued by you. And perhaps you are by me as well. For after the children are herded off by a blue-eared woman resembling the fox, you and I remain in the square.
“Um,” you say, “I just wanted to say thanks. For not running away from Saru earlier... I think she was happy about that.”
“I am glad to hear of it. But should I have run?”
“Well, no, I mean... most people usually do though. So I’m glad you were...” you abruptly stop, apparently recalling a social nicety, “- hold on, I forgot to introduce myself!”
We exchange names, and you seem slightly more at ease. I find that though I do not recognize your name either, I do in fact know that my name is “Lucas”. It is not much information, but it is a very ordinary human name, so I am likely a human after all.
You seem bewildered again when I muse on this. I find some satisfaction in realizing I can tell your emotions after all. “You’re not sure if... you’re human?”
“Yes. I believe I am, but I have forgotten all else, and there is a great deal I do not know.” I look about the square, wondering if ‘everything’ would suffice as an example, but finally settle on one object. “For instance, the sweet scent emitting from that odd structure. It is appealing, and my stomach makes sounds when I am near it, but I am not entirely sure what may be causing it.”
“That’s a bakery... you mean you’re hungry. You don’t... even know that you’re hungry?”
“Oh, hunger... I see. Perhaps that’s why I have been weaker the last few days...”
“The last few...? Wait. Have you not eaten for— ”
You abruptly drop your pack upon the floor and begin digging through it. As I watch with fascination, you come up with - a couple of weeds, a platter of what appears to be monster blood, a large root vegetable, a greatsword, farming implements, an egg you almost hand me before saying “wait, that’s raw-”, a stick, a brick— no, two bricks—
—but at last you thrust a bowl of soup and noodles into my hands.
“I didn’t pack more food before I went on patrol today, so I just grabbed my last udon experiment and— please just eat this before you fall over! How did you not realize—”
I oblige. I find almost immediately that I am indeed “hungry”, as before I realize it the bowl is empty, and you are looking at me with perhaps some form of awe.
“That was fast. Did you... like it?”
“It was absolutely magnificent,” I state with utter honesty.
“Oh! It really was that good?”
“Quite so! The flavor of the broth was fascinating, and the sensations it produces in me are entirely new. What were the blue petals within? They gave a rather intense burst of bitterness.“
“Blue petals...? Hold on, what do you... oh. Oh no— ”
A mad dash and a hastily downed purple vial later, the strange tingle of “poison” is gone. I now sit upon a bed within the building where we’d met for the first time, and you are crouched on the floor beside me, with your great orange face in your hands.
“I’m so sorry. I swear I don’t... I don’t put poison in all my food... I was figuring out how to make higher quality dishes, and had a lot of flowers, and forgot charm blues were poisonous, and I’m so sorry—”
“But I did not mind it,” I say, for I truly hadn’t. “Really, it was a very new and fascinating experience to be poisoned.”
Silence. You finally raise your head towards me. “You’re... actually serious?”
“Certainly.” I smile at you reassuringly, and then recall I do not know how a reassuring smile ought to look. “I have learned so many new things today. I am actually very grateful for your assistance - and for the magnificent food you offered me. It was delicious.”
You say nothing for a moment, though it seems that you are staring at me. Then finally you let out a breath, and then a small chuckle.
“Sorry, it’s just... I’ve never met anyone like you since I got here. Anyone who can think poisonous udon is... delicious, I mean... you really are an interesting person, Lucas.”
“I am honored that you think so,” I say, warmly. “I find you very interesting as well.”
You make an odd sound at that, but after a little longer you shake your head again and climb back to your feet, seeming to have made a resolution.
“W... well. Still, I need to report to Captain Livia. I’m a SEED ranger... I can’t just poison a traveller and get away with it. So - can you come with me? She should be able to help you too.”
In the audience-room below, you report my situation and confess to your wrongs against me with remarkable resolve, despite your voice sounding as if you expected utter doom. But after your confession has completed, Captain Livia - both shorter and sharper than I had imagined - simply casts a yellow eye across the both of us, and then scowls and mutters something under her breath.
It had sounded like, “ another amnesiac?”
“Captain?” You ask, uncomprehending.
“Right. For the poisoning, I sentence you to helping him figure out what happened to his memory,” Captain Livia says flatly, “and don’t tell Scarlett why you have to.”
The one named Scarlett arrives soon afterwards. The three of you engage in a hasty round of discussion about runes and magic circles and subjects which I do not follow, but Captain Livia indeed makes no mention of the poisoning. Soon you are being sent off to the crystal caverns that I recalled waking up within, and I am being packed off with Scarlett “for a quick check-in, and then to get some food”.
“Shall I assist you in some way?” I ask you before you depart, but you shake your head.
“No, please don’t worry about me. Just stay put in town for now, and get more food and rest, okay?”
The “check-in” proceeds. Scarlett soon delivers me to the building known as a “restaurant” before being called away. But though the scent emitting from within is tantalizing, the fascinating taste of your noodles comes back to me, and I discover that other scents do not compare. Instead, as I stand before the doors considering what to do, I suddenly find myself recalling how you had determinedly strode away towards your mission. It had been a striking contrast with your earlier shame-filled gloom, but also with your mad dash dragging me to fetch antidote, and again with your utter bewilderment at seeing me with the fox. Somehow, all of this had been clear - without the expression of your great orange face changing in the slightest.
That is the moment I realize that you are the most intriguing human I have met to date (if you are human at all), and that though you have instructed me not to worry, the emotion I am experiencing now is not so much worry as utter fascination. And so there should be no issue with taking myself to find you.
“What th— Lucas?! ”
“I thought you might need a guide through the caverns,” I say brightly, and marvel as a large squirrel’s thrown rock bounces harmlessly off your head - and you turn and send it flying with a single punch.
You subsequently dispatch the rest of the monsters, and after making it clear to me that most human magicians cannot instantly appear anywhere they wish (I make a note of this), you finally stop, stare at me again, sigh with some resignation, and mutter, “but I guess if you’re that powerful, you’ll probably be okay in here... and if I send you off and you get yourself poisoned again both Scarlett and Captain Livia will kill me. So stick close to me, okay?”
“Certainly,” I assent. “The next time I wish to experience poisoning, I shall find you for an antidote first.”
I am not entirely sure what the odd sound you make in response means, but at any rate we proceed, and my decision to follow you quickly proves correct. For through the next few skirmishes with monsters large and small, I discover many things:
- that my magical talents include spheres of protective light and great stone pillars,
- that gemstones so entrance me that I may fail to notice a monster gnawing on me (until you swat it away),
- that your great orange head is impervious to all attack,
- and that, every time I observe your graceful movements and powerful strikes against the hordes of foes before us, I find myself unable to look away.
Fascinating. Utterly fascinating.
“I had thought most humans use blades to fight,” I observe, as we begin the descent into the third level of the caverns. “I had not thought one could be so effective at dispatching monsters with - I believe those are known as ‘plush puppets’?”
“Animal puppets,” you say, then hastily add, “and I mean, I just thought I’d try them out... anyway, most people don’t use these to fight, so don’t think you need to write that—”
“Ah, I suppose they do appear to be rather soft. Quite unlike your powerful head. Still, it does appear noteworthy for further investigation...”
There is silence for a few long moments, as I am occupied with recording your words without inadvertently slipping on the steps. But then at last your voice comes again, sounding rather strange. “Um, Lucas. Were you just... talking about my head?”
“Yes. In fact, I confess to having been impressed by it since we met.” I realize I had in fact forgotten to record its imperviousness, and make a few more notes. “It is a shame we are occupied in a mission, for I would dearly love to ask you how you came to have such a strikingly vast and orange head. Perhaps after we return...”
“... uh. I... I mean. This... isn’t actually—”
“Oh- a moment! I recognize this place!”
We enter the great cavern which I awoke within some number of days ago, and our conversation is set aside. I immediately find myself engrossed with the fascinating frozen crystal formations within, which I had perhaps been too disoriented to notice before, while you follow behind me, muttering again under your breath.
“... no magic circle? But if that wasn’t why he lost his memory, then how could he forget so much about every single thing? And why did I... Lucas, hang on!”
Your voice stops me just as I am about to step into the pool at the center of the room, and I look back with some surprise. You are still a little behind me with puppets at the ready, and you seem agitated, though I know not why.
“Is there some problem? This pool is fascinatingly clear. I thought I might see if it held something at its bottom.”
“I don’t even know what to say to th—... first of all, humans don’t breathe underwater. Secondly, with a room this big, we need to watch out... for...”
There is suddenly a powerful splash from behind me.
“Lucas!! MOVE!! ”
A great number of things occur at once. There is a sound like that of ropes whipping towards me. The water about my feet surges. Your great orange head is suddenly launching towards me— you have launched yourself towards me—
—and then you crash into me hard enough to knock the breath from my chest, and an instant later, the great tentacle aiming for me catches your head instead of mine, and rips it from your shoulders.
“NO—”
Then my cry of shock fades away, for the sight revealed leaves me at a complete loss for words.
Glittering between a thousand water droplets, fine golden strands encircle a determined brow, a finely formed nose, an elegant chin— and a pair of bright eyes that may be either azure or verdant, I know not which. Nor do I know whether I am more stunned by my crash into the water, or by the realization that these bright eyes are yours. I know not if words even exist to describe the sight, as even the crystal pool had not been so clear as they are—
I know only that I am suddenly lost within your eyes, and shall be every time I look into them for eternity. For I also abruptly recall that I am a god.
“Get back! ” You roar at me before I can collect my wits enough to inform you of this, and then spring away towards the many-armed monster. And then a great battle ensues as I can only watch from afar, for my mind is suddenly in utter turmoil.
I am a god? But what sort of god? What domain does my divinity rule over? What ought I to do? Why do I recall abruptly many taboos - but no hint of my powers? How ought I to speak to mortals henceforth? And -
You yell something. I look up suddenly. One of the monster’s tentacles has managed to seize your leg. You are being swung up into the air, and when you inevitably come back down—
—I abruptly realize that no other answer matters to me than that you live.
“One, two— three !!”
I snap my fingers. The tentacle sends crystal fragments into the air as it crashes into the ground. And you—
—you give a battle cry, and the great unbreakable orange head that is once again safely over yours echoes the sound throughout the cavern. Then you spring back to your feet, grab the tentacle of the surprised kraken, and finally haul it bodily from the pool, to slam it flat into the ground as it could not to you.
“Lucas,” you say much later, as we stand beside the crystal pool watching the last ripples from your magnificent battle finally vanish, “thank you. I don’t think I’d have survived that without you.”
“It was only a small magic trick,” I say magnanimously. “Please think nothing of it. Your feats today were far more impressive.”
“Your magic trick teleported my helmet across the room . Right onto my head. While I was speeding towards the ground via a kraken’s tentacle—”
“Well, naturally it did. But that is still not entirely surprising.” I shake my head, and note with some wonder how water droplets from my hair - still quite soaked from when you tackled me into the pool earlier - scatter every which way like small gemstones. Though I also observe that my hair flying about in inky curls is nowhere near as picturesque as the sight of your golden strands had been.
“Um. It’s... not?”
“Yes. After all, as I’ve recently recalled, I am a god.”
I look over towards you. You gape back at me, the great orange head - helmet - now safely beneath your arm. Your shining hair has been somewhat transformed by the battle and sticks out a little here and there, and now that I can finally observe your true face, I can note how your brows arch and your mouth opens and your clear eyes meeting mine are full of absolute incredulity—
—and then you begin to laugh, surprisedly, warmly, and mesmerizing in your entirety, and I conclude one thing then. My conclusion does not waver even as we return to the village of Rigbarth, report your exploits to Captain Livia - for I insist you keep my divinity a secret - and establish me within the village as a crystal merchant. For the more I see of you within my new mortal life, the more certain I become.
Should I recall every memory of my prior existence, I would still claim the sight of you, laughing with honest delight beside me in the crystal cavern, to be the most wonderful of them all.
Chapter 2: Wind
Summary:
Chapter Preview: "... must you remember me as ‘the ranger with the great orange head’?"
In which the Divine Dragon Amarukas develops his second taboo of non-interference, and an amnesiac god and a no-longer-pumpkin-headed ranger tear about town on the back of a nine-tailed fox.
Chapter Text
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The Second Taboo
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The Divine Dragon Amarukas last touched the hand of his second love amidst smoke and ash.
He’d bid her farewell that morning within her capital city, his human hand upon her forehead to receive her willing prayers and wishes. He would carry them to her subjects, the werefolk clans she’d once struggled to unite as chieftain, before her valor had blessed her with the attention of an exiled dragon god. She had only offered him her love after using his power to ensure her people were at peace, and he’d found he loved her all the more for it.
And then two decades of peace had indeed ensued. Amarukas had learned from his mistakes in the last age of the world. It was his doting and uninvolved love that had doomed the people of his first high priest, so this time he would take a more active role. He would guide his people alongside their queen to build a paradise, and by their example show the rest of the mortal world peace.
He returned to his winged form and flew to one of the furthest new settlements of the werefolk, set amidst a dense wood. There he proceeded to carry out his usual ritual of benedictions, blessings, and small boons for the crowd that eagerly awaited him, while passing on their queen’s message as well. No word had to be spoken out loud; his touch revealed all of their smallest wants, and his own blessings were exactly as they needed, no more and no less. And as usual, there was only joyous acceptance of his word from among the crowd. So he’d spent the day.
It was only at dusk, as he wheeled above the dense wood to return to the capital, that Amarukas saw the black plume of smoke rising from afar.
He returned amidst fire, and screaming, and blades, and blood. He almost could not believe his eyes at the sight. What had happened? What were these bodies within the capital? Why were there none of the invaders of the other races, or the monsters, or the great beasts he had feared?
Why were the dead all of his own people, their once-peaceful faces frozen in rictus snarls, their blades plunged into each other’s chests?
His sight blinded by the smoke and fury and darkness seeping from the bodies of his people, Amarukas was forced to land and proceed on foot. And though a few of the dying wailed and begged him for solace as he passed, he did not allow himself to falter, or let his own pity overcome his duty to the greater good. His love, the azure-eyed queen who’d led them to peace once before, must have been fighting even now within her very capital. She was the only one with the determination to lead them all back towards peace. She would need his power to--
Thinking thus, Amarukas pushed his way into the castle courtyard amidst flames. There he finally laid eyes upon his love once more - as she fled towards him with her flowing hair undone, her hands empty of weapons, and her armor nowhere to be seen.
“Ruka, help--” she’d cried as she saw him, her azure eyes bright with hope. And as her outstretched, beseeching hand brushed against his claw, Amarukas suddenly understood - as her pursuers sunk three arrows into her throat.
We have fought for long enough. Our lord has blessed us with peace as his reward. We need not learn the art of war again.
We need no defenses or harsh measures. We are no longer in the barbaric days of yore. Our lord will guard us.
Our lord understands the people’s hearts. Words that he does not bear have no need to be said. There is no need for me to go out to the people as before.
I need not worry. Our lord will return. It is but a small scuffle in the outskirts of the city.
I need not worry. Our lord will put out the flames. Our kinsmen would not act so rashly.
I need not worry. Our lord will save us all. He will make them see the light again.
I need not worry. Ruka is here--
Her heart’s blood splashed hot against his chest, and Amarukas’s roar echoed throughout the burning vale.
In subsequent generations, the small villages that settled in the area would pass around stories and legends about the great lake that had formed seemingly from the blue one night. The most popular tale tended to be scoffed at for its fantastical concept of gods and humans, for the Four Native Dragons were of course well-known to not do such things. But nevertheless the tale of Lake Melody persisted on the lips of lovers young and old, and went something like this.
When the world was still young, a god fell in love with a mortal. But gods are as different from mortals as the heavens are from the earth, and in his carelessness, the god’s divine nature shattered his mortal love’s soul into pieces, never to come together again. The god’s grief at this was so mighty that he carved the greatest tomb of all into the mountains, laying his love to rest at its center, and remained there, singing to guide the pieces of her soul into heaven, until his flowing tears had filled the entirety of the tomb.
“Hah,” a traveller from Alvarna might grumble, “imagine Fiersome singing. ”
“But you must admit,” an acolyte from Selphia would say wistfully, “Lady Ventuswill must have a truly divine voice - though she would not be so foolish, of course--”
And Amarukas would simply listen, cloaked, from the edge of the crowd, and once the tale had ended depart as silently as he’d arrived. For he could never again forget his second taboo - that a god must never interfere in the lives of mortals.
******
Lucas
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A few days after I had begun my occupation as a vendor of magic, I am surprised, as I enter the Crystalabra, to find its jocularly wayward proprietor Heinz actually standing behind the counter.
“It’s a HOLYday!” he proclaims, winking at me, “and divine magicians need rest too!”
With that he shoos me out of the shop, and I find myself suddenly with ample free time. However, I also find I have little idea of how to spend it, for the children are not around to ambush me and demand a performance, and the rest of the village are at work as usual. I consider going about town to perform “errands” as I have seen the other townsfolk do, but I am still not entirely sure what an errand might entail. And as I am a god, might I be obligated to rest on this holy-day? Hrm.
That is why you discover me seated alone at the small pavilion beside the great lake, poring over my notes with such intensity that I do not even notice your presence at first. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that your fox discovers me, for I am surprised first by the intrusion of a great blue-furred snout into my notes, and then by a familiar sigh of, “Saru, no!”
Ah, the emotion I experience on seeing you is just as pleasant as it was before - even if I am still occasionally surprised to see you without your great orange head. Nevertheless, I find that I am smiling when I meet your resigned gaze.
“Good morning. You look well today.”
“Yes! Good morning, Lucas - but why are you by yourself up here?”
I explain my conundrum, as well as my curiosity about “errands” and my lack of knowledge of how to perform one as a mortal might. At that you look momentarily startled, but soon grin back at me.
“Well, I was just about to run some quick errands about town. Want to come along?”
“Certainly,” I say at once, and just as immediately discover what you had meant by “quick”. For the moment you pull me onto the fox’s back behind you, we begin to fly forward at a rapid clip - and for an instant all I can focus upon is my grip on the fox’s fur, and your golden hair fanning in the wind before me.
“Hold on tight!” You bellow over the rushing air, “even if you’re a god, falling off hurts!”
Though our feet are set back on the ground once we reenter the village, we proceed through your errands no less rapidly. You fly through the general store first, pulling packets of seeds and flour and exactly thirty-six oranges in your wake, and before I am able to set any observations to paper, you have already greeted both the assistant girl Lucy and the proprietress Misasagi who quite resembles the fox, handed the cheerful young Hina a cup of juice from your pack, paid for your purchases and stuffed them within the same pack, waved hello to the old baker on the other side of a rack of many-colored goods— and begun heading out again.
“Lucas, c’mon! The shops close early today, so we have to—”
The two subsequent stops within the bakery and the medicine-shop proceed at a similar pace, including a truly prodigious number of greetings and gifts from your inexhaustible pack. It is only when you are cheerfully halted within the carpenter’s by the eminent Palmo - who insists on your opinion regarding whether he ought to fashionably incorporate wood shavings into his cap or his tailcoat - that I have a moment to add to my notes again. And yet I find, even as I set pen to paper, that proper words for the sheer variety of scenes I have just observed elude me.
Fascinating, I finally think, looking back up at you attempting to help Palmo stuff wood shavings into his pockets artistically. Truly fascinating. To think that a god could be so stymied in finding words to describe a mortal.
“Tearing ‘round town with the new ranger, eh?” Heinz comments as I return to the Crystalabra that afternoon, having been reminded of a shipment I was to inspect. I am surprised by his keen observation before recalling that I had been dropped off just before the front door by the great fox, and am still carrying the bowl of udon you’d left me with.
“Frankly, I’m SUPPLYised you’ve got the energy to review supplies after that.”
“I admit, I am deeply impressed that one human could carry so many oranges...”
When Heinz roars with laughter, I feel obligated to add, “but it was not so tiring. I found it quite exhilarating, in fact.”
“To be sure, to be sure... ah, to be young again.”
But then Heinz grins again, more honestly, just as I am pondering whether to correct him that I am likely infinitely older than he is. “Still, someone that amazing at everything they do, they’re on a level of their own... and most of us’re just ordinary mortals, eh? So I’m sure that ranger’s glad you’re around now.”
I pause, finding the idea abruptly striking. “Is that... do you mean to say that only a god may live with such abandon?”
“Hahaha! That’s a new way of putting it - maybe we oughta start renamin’ our holy days in honor of our new ranger, eh?”
Though I am quite certain you are not in fact another god, Heinz’s suggestion remains with me that evening, as I consider how little I still know about how to live either as a mortal or as a god. And so over the next days and weeks, I make an effort to observe you more carefully so that I may learn - and come to three conclusions.
First : The speed of your errands upon that holy-day had indeed been your usual pace.
I had grown used to taking daily meals at the restaurant as the other villagers did, but only once did I observe you in the restaurant at the same time. Where the other ranger Scarlett sat and ate with precision, and the sharp-eyed Terry lingered over his meal to observe passers-by, and even the work-obsessed Martin still shoveled food into his mouth at a human pace - you whirled through the door, dashed through a greeting to the sleepily efficient Elsje, rounded the tables to either chat with or hand a small gift to each of the eaters with amazing speed, and then— stopped, and looked immediately chagrined upon reaching me.
“Lucas!— oh no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t bring enough stuff— wait! Do you like curry?”
“I have never tried it, but it sounds delightful,” I say, finding myself once again intrigued by your rapid shift from gloom to inspiration. That is when you pull me over to the stovetop that Elsje had abandoned, to instruct me in the art of tandem cooking. And before I have even finished marvelling at how carrots and potatoes and spice could be so harmoniously combined into a bubbling sauce, you seem to receive another jolt of brilliance - for you abruptly dump an entire packet of noodles into the pot, and then an ear of corn.
“Curry udon,” you say, presenting me with a bowl of the results later as we sit across a low table, looking rather nervous but pleased with yourself, “I remember you liked the noodles that first time, even the poi— uh, sharpness. So I thought I’d add a different strong flavor... anyway, try these!”
I do. I chew the noodles for a few moments as you stare intently across the table, and then say, slowly, “I believe I must confess a breach of my taboos.”
“Huh?”
“Gods do not lie. And yet I described the last bowl of noodles as ‘absolutely magnificent’, as I recall - when this is in truth the most magnificent flavor I have ever experienced in the mortal realm. I ought to make a note - no, a drawing of it, so that I never forget—”
“Uh, Lucas... finish eating first. It’s going to go cold if you start drawing...”
Though you chide me, your face is rather pink as you tuck into your own bowl, and I find the sight of your pleased embarrassment so intriguing that I am even momentarily distracted from the noodles. But all too soon we have finished, and you are bidding me farewell again to sweep off on the back of the great fox. As I depart also, I hear the ranger Scarlett sigh to another patron, “the Captain and I had to compromise about monsters within village limits... truly exceptional ranger, special case, but ordinary people simply cannot catch up...”
I find her words ironically prophetic later that evening, for try as I might with the same ingredients, I cannot replicate the taste of your curry udon either. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say “the curry udon we cooked together”? Curiously, though I experience disappointment at my own inability, I also experience a warm sentiment at that thought, which I cannot place a name to.
Regardless, my second conclusion comes upon the heel of the first, almost as rapidly as you and Saru swept away through the village.
Second: Whatever taboos you may live by as a mortal, the one of godly non-interference is not one of them. In fact, judging from your actions as I continue to observe you over the next week, it would be more accurate to say that non-interference is taboo to you.
“— how dare you take advantage of Murakumo’s generosity simply for your own selfish—” I overhear one day while clearing ivy from the Crystalabra’s outer wall, and glance over to see you berating a couple of shamed-looking miscreants, Saru hovering menacingly at your shoulder. I cannot be certain whether the miscreants are cowering more from the great fox or from your furious gaze.
“— yes, I’ll do what I can to convince Martin to rest,” I observe you saying to the great dwarf blacksmith Darroch on another afternoon as I am exiting the restaurant, “and perhaps I ought to ask Cecil as well what his brother might—”
And then, on one further occasion, I am at my business in the Crystalabra when I hear “— Lucas, sign this!”, moments before a form is presented before my nose, your bright eyes peeking over the top.
I blink a couple times, adjusting my glasses. “Have you... come to request my signature? As a divine relic?”
“No, it’s just a town meeting notice... and doesn’t that mean all of Heinz’s bookkeeping and records are now divine relics?”
“Hrm. Heinz will be quite eager to hear that his shop may be consecrated as a holy site, then.”
I am pleased to see you smiling as I sign the document. Perhaps some of Heinz’s irrepressible jocularity has been “rubbing off” on me. As you pack the form away again, I inquire about why you have been sent on an errand to pass a form hither and thither, and you sigh and explain the task that Captain Livia set you upon to keep the irrepressible Cecil busy.
“Does that not seem somewhat meaningless?” I ask, curious.
“Humans need things to do, I guess,” you say, grin at me once more, and hand me another bowl of udon— before dashing back out the door as suddenly as you’d entered. Even though the udon is once again wonderful, I am oddly pensive for the rest of the afternoon, half pondering your words and half (inexplicably) wishing you had remained a little longer.
Indeed, as you say, humans do need things to do. But then what ought a god to do? Did deities have such needs? And if they did not, why is it I feel such pleasant emotions at being useful to others and seeing their joy - despite my own taboos being so different from yours? My mood when I attempted to live according to “non-interference” was noticeably lower than when I aided you in capturing a swindler, and was rewarded with seeing your surprised and delighted smile once again.
If I were a god meant to live by my taboos, ought it not have been the other way around?
I find no answers to my questions then. But at the swindler’s hideout, I do discover my divine ability to peruse the memories of objects, and subsequently spend some time each day wandering the town attempting to learn about its past inhabitants. I could not say whether this was fascination or an attempt to discover what I ought to do, nor even whether I was eager to find out, or anxious about it. If objects remembered humans for their actions, and gods were enjoined from acting - would anyone remember a god at all?
That pensive musing is what you find me engaged in doing one afternoon, when I finally make my third and most important conclusion.
“—Lucas? What’re you standing over here for?”
Distracted from my perusal of three generations of a family’s cooking methods, I turn around to see you blinking curiously at me, Saru for once lazing about some distance away. I am pleased to note, as I explain to you my actions, that the sight of you once again lifts my spirits regardless of the situation.
“Wait, then,” you suddenly interject, being as usual the only mortal who’d so blatantly interrupt a god, “can you touch me and read my memories? The ones I lost before I woke up here?”
“I am afraid I cannot. Mortals’ pasts are far too complex. At most I am able to read your current thoughts through direct contact, though— of course such interference would be taboo regardless...”
You look abruptly so dejected at that that I cannot shake the feeling that I have heartlessly denied a prayer. But after another moment, you seem to shake yourself, returning to your usual cheer. “Then, could you just read one thought? That shouldn’t be too much of a taboo.”
“Gods be good,” I sigh, but realize that I neither recall any other gods to invoke, nor do I actually want to deny the sincere curiosity behind your eyes, sparkling like the sea. “I suppose I do owe you quite a debt... well then, your hand, please. And prepare yourself accordingly.”
But then your bare hand meets mine, and I abruptly find that I am the one who ought to have prepared a little more. For I am able to conclude once and for all, in that very instant, that:
Third: You are like no other mortal I have ever encountered.
I had inadvertently discovered my ability to read mortals’ minds via touch some time ago, and taken pains since then to avoid touching others without gloves or clothing in-between. But I had occasionally slipped up, or others had been careless, so I’d had an idea of how most mortal minds looked: a single great white bonfire of knowledge and skill and self surrounded with smaller fires, emitting sparks of fleeting thought.
Your mind looked nothing like that.
A hundred blazing white flames, less like bonfires and more like the floating lanterns of a tale that Julian and Hina had once insisted I act out with them, spread before me in every direction. Some were greater and some were smaller, but all burned with similar fervor, and I could not even tell which one was the “self”. Were they all? And was that even possible— I seize only one spark of thought and retreat hastily, in a manner very unlike that of a god.
“You were considering fruit sandwiches for dinner, were you not?”
Your surprise and glee at my reveal almost make up for my trepidation at breaking taboo. Regardless, I am given no time to reflect on my indiscretions or my discoveries, for you immediately take my arm and drag me over to greet Saru. And as I am pulled along, I find I have no desire either to take you to task for being so casual with a deity, and cannot tell whether I am disquieted about my own flippancy towards taboo - or relieved.
“You know,” you say later, after Saru has adequately greeted me by flopping down half on top of me, and we are sitting beside her gazing out over the ocean, “I wish I were more like you, Lucas.”
“How so? There is little to envy. A god’s role is not one of idle leisure.”
You sigh. “No, not that part. Being a god sounds hard.”
“Then...”
“Whether or not you’re a god - you‘re interested in everything, no matter what it is,” you say finally, and although you do not meet my eyes I can see a faraway look in your face, “you can find poison delicious, and three generations of old family cooking fascinate you, and you’re happy to just listen and learn from anyone - it doesn’t even matter if it’s rocks or people. I... just don’t know how to do that. Even if I were to be able to read memories. I’d probably only want to use it to become a master blacksmith or something, and then...”
The unspoken and then what else is there ? hangs in the air as clearly as if I’d touched you directly to read it. Yet I cannot find my own words in response before you shake your head, seemingly discarding the thought, and say more cheerily, “sorry, I’m getting a bit weird - I guess I should go back to patrolling. Thanks for... thanks, Lucas.”
When I return home that evening, I realize the and then what else is there? thought seems to have followed me back, for it and your words chase each other through my mind until sleep finds me. Once again, I dream only of the same great empty expanse of white marble and swirling black sky I always do - though this time I finally understand that it is the barren platform of my own mind, where unlike yours, no bonfires burn whatsoever.
When I awaken, I vow that since you wished to live more like me, then I shall endeavor to live more like you - in hopes that I may eventually discover a bonfire of my own. But with my mind in turmoil over how to act, and knowing only that my performances bring joy but not how best to do so, I soon prove myself even less adequate at acting like you than acting like myself.
“— you are not to perform after dark from now on. Keep performances to a manageable length. The children’s parents worry after them, you know.”
“— no more performances until further notice, Lucas. Even if it was just a trick, Yuki did injure herself due to your overdoing things...”
I do not protest these punishments, and though you - who’d coincidentally been nearby when my mis-judged magic trick occurred - attempt to do so for me, I cannot meet your eyes.
Thus begins three days during which I elect not to see much of anyone, including you. I no longer have reason to frequent the village square, Heinz has all but abdicated his crystal shop to me, and I begin to take my meals in the shop rather than at the restaurant. Though it is now much simpler to keep to my taboo of non-interference, I find it difficult to describe my feelings during this time, and cannot shake the thought that whatever I might try, I shall never know if I have truly done more good than harm.
Strange feelings for a god, I think. But then again, I do not seem to be a particularly effective one.
Perhaps that is why I finally find myself atop the seaside hill on the evening of the third day, singing out of some lost impulse or forgotten memory (towards the sea, to avoid being mistaken for performing). Believing myself alone, and finding that song lends far greater meaning to mortal words than I had thought possible, I lose myself for some time in melodies through which my emotions fly forth into the open sea, until— I hear a thump .
“What is...!!”
I learn then, as I turn about, that the mortal phrase “heart in one’s throat” is actually quite an apt description for what I feel at seeing you collapsed on the ground. It is only after I have ran to your side and confirmed that you are still breathing - and snoring quite contentedly - that I can attempt to still the trembling in my hands. It may have been a fascinating sensation at any other time; at that moment I had no use for it whatsoever.
How did you come to be here? Why? And had I avoided you out of shame - or out of some unnamed fear of exactly this outcome?
I eventually bring you to my sparsely furnished home and settle you in my bed, not wishing to carry you across town to the Silo in the night chill. I keep myself a little distance away at a desk, staring down at my notes without comprehending a single word, until I finally hear you stirring.
“Mm... what...? Where am I—... Lucas?!”
“I am sorry,” I say, and do not - cannot - look towards you, even as I explain how my song may have inadvertently held enough divine power to knock you out, if not worse.
“... I should not have come here, if I continue to hurt others with my presence. Perhaps you ought to leave as soon as you can.”
There is a long silence after I finish speaking. Finally, I hear the sound of sheets moving as you rise from bed. I wait for the sound of your footsteps to fade away, the creak of a front door—
—which is why I am momentarily stunned when something warm is abruptly wrapped about my shoulders, as if the fox Saru had chosen to sit on me again. But this time it is your arms that are behind the blanket.
“ I’m sorry, Lucas,” you say. Your voice cracks for an instant before you catch yourself. “I should’ve come to see you sooner.”
For some inexplicable reason, my voice has gone hoarse when I finally find it again. “Why would you... have cause to be sorry?”
“Because you’re my friend , dammit! And I didn’t even come talk to you!”
The previous inhabitant of the home I’d occupied, a lonesome old woodcutter according to the house’s own memories, had not cared to include a single two-person seat anywhere within the entire building. So you instead coax me back to sit beside you upon the bed, and whether out of a desire not to hear that tremor in your voice again, or because I had actually desperately wished to - I allow myself to be coaxed. But then we are both silent for a few moments longer until, just as I’d begun considering whether I could still convince you to go, you speak again.
“Lucas. That song you were singing... you were sad, weren’t you?”
“Sad? I... am not certain.”
If you are surprised that I do not seem to understand such a basic human emotion, you no longer show it, and I am grateful for that consideration. “Well, then... maybe it’s more like... like you feel bad about everything. Like nothing seems all that fun or— or fascinating, any more. Did you feel like that?”
Gods may be ignorant, but they do not lie. “Yes,” I say quietly. “I suppose I did. But that is only the natural result of my divinity among mortals. I—”
“No, it’s not.” And though you have just contravened a god to his face, your voice is so steadfastly resolute that I cannot help but turn to meet your gaze. Even in the faint firelight of my bedside lamp, your eyes shine clearly upon me.
“You’ve lived in Rigbarth for a month already, Lucas. The children love watching your performances, and Priscilla and Lucy and Cecil do too even if they won’t admit it. Heinz boasts about your bookkeeping skills every time I see him outside, which is more than I ever see him inside. Yuki told me how much of a shame it was you’d been prevented from performing on her behalf, and wanted me to let you know she and Randolph have a fresh roll for you the next time you go over. And from what I hear, Julian’s been so mopey that Simone’s getting worried—”
You finally stop for a breath, at which point you seem to realize that you had said a great deal, and flush a little within the lamplight. But whether you had paused for a minute or an hour I do not think I could have interrupted you then, struck as I was by every word you’d said, and the sincerity I felt behind each - solely for my sake.
I cannot describe this emotion. I do not know whether anyone could.
“... Saru misses you,” you say at last more quietly, and then, “I do too. Don’t leave, Lucas.”
It is all I can do to turn to look back towards the floor, out of some knowledge that I would be very likely to shame myself if I continued meeting your clear gaze.
“I... wished to help.” I finally say.
“... yeah. You just wanted to make people happy.”
“But I do not know how.” My voice has finally began to steady again, and I find that as I speak now, in this dark lamp-lit room, the meaning has returned to my words - or perhaps it is just that you are the one who can find the meaning in them. “I am a god who is not permitted to interfere in mortal lives, and whose unchecked power invites disaster. But I bear the feelings of a man who simply wishes to... to live among others and bring them joy. I... do not understand how it is I ought to live.”
There is another silence as my words land, but then your voice comes, so quietly at first that I cannot make out the words, “... live.”
“I beg your... pardon?”
“Like—” That is when I feel your hand grip mine through the blanket. I cannot tell whether it is your suddenly excited thoughts that are so clear even through the fabric, or the warmth of your hand, that sends a jolt through me.
“Lucas, you said your taboo is supposed to be interfering with mortal lives - right?”
“Yes, but I do not see—”
“Well, living like a mortal and interacting with mortals isn’t interfering , is it?! It’s just living ! As long as you’re talking to others like a mortal, and acting like a mortal, and doing dumb things and enjoying being a part of normal life like any mortal, then how would you possibly be, well, interfering—”
I blink back at you, at first uncomprehendingly, not even realizing when it was I’d turned to look at you again. But against your bright eyes piercing as ice crystals and warm as flame, the absurdly sincere words you’d just said finally begin to crack open, revealing a thousand shining gem surfaces within—
And that is when I discover that even if I am utterly lost for speech, I can still laugh.
“... er... Lucas?”
“My goodness...” I manage at last, still struggling through a few lingering chuckles, “I had never thought of... any solution to the conundrum more impudent, and ridiculous, and...”
“I mean, you don’t have to laugh at—”
“— and utterly, brilliantly, wonderfully human, as that,” I finish. Your surprised expression, so different from your previous resolute conviction, sends another wave of warmth through me - as well as another peal of laughter. But eventually I turn back towards you with more solemnity.
“My... apologies. I truly did not mean to suggest I thought your words absurd. I simply...”
I stop, gather myself once more, and say with every ounce of sincerity I am capable of, “I do not know how a god as foolish as I could have deserved such wisdom from a true friend. I believe... I owe you great thanks for saving me from my own folly.”
The expression of simultaneous embarrassment and pleasure that crosses your face, even as you cough and act as if the floor had become exceptionally interesting, is more than sufficient response for me - as is the warmth of your hand still firmly holding mine.
By the time we’ve worked through your proposal for me to show my sincerity to the townsfolk through song (“That’s still you acting like a mortal, not a god,” you’d asserted, “just a mortal who’s very good at expressing emotions by singing—”) morning light had begun to break over the horizon. You had begun to yawn somewhat uncontrollably quite some time ago.
“I... suppose I’d better head... back to the Silo. The monster barns— their morning feed—”
“You shall do no such thing,” I say sternly, and whether it is because I am also rather off-kilter from a sleepless night, because of my elation at the hope you’d given back to me, or because I suddenly cannot bear to think of you forcing yourself through your rapid pace of errands while so exhausted — I remove the blanket from my shoulders, where we’d both apparently forgotten it still was, and wrap it carefully around you. You only stare at me.
“Lucas...? But...”
“If you rest,” I tell you again, a little more gently, and for some reason find myself re-arranging the pillows on the bed, “I shall see to things at the Silo. This is the very least you deserve in return for— no, it is the least I can do as your friend. So I only ask that you permit me this much.”
“You didn’t sleep either, you know...” you mutter, but your eyelids are already drooping, and you are asleep before I can inform you that after all, I am a god. So I do not, and with a quiet “thank you,” I tuck you in and then disappear to seek the redoubtable Ranger Scarlett’s instruction in how to carry out rudimentary farming chores.
(When I finally see you awake in the village later that day, you look a great deal more well-rested, though your face is slightly pink as you drag me back to the tandem cooking stove and instruct me in detail on how to prepare curry udon if I should wish to myself. I am not certain if the heat I observe in my own face afterwards is from the stove, or from a similar pink flush as yours.)
My “emotion-laden” vocal performance before the village occurs one day later, and according to Heinz afterwards, is a “CRYSTAL clear success, eh? ROCK solid!”. With both the children and Simone mollified, I am once again permitted to perform, and so celebrate with a few rounds of flashy effects and tricks before bowing out from the audience. This time I meet you simply as we’d arranged behind the Great Tree, looking towards the sea.
“I must thank you again for your—” I begin as soon as I reach you, and then stop suddenly - for your eyes are red-rimmed, and you sniffle before noticing my presence and hastily turning away. And as ignorant as I am of human emotion, I am not so ignorant as to not recognize this one.
“What has happened-... are you hurt? I- I shall bring you to Simone’s—”
“N- no! Lucas, I’m... I’m okay. It’s nothing!”
“But—”
Once more I find myself at a loss for words, but this time despite your turned-away face and stiff pose, something in your voice indicates clearly that I should stay. So I do, remaining silently a little distance beside you, until your voice finally comes again somewhat more steadily.
“... I just... your song. To everyone, thanking them and telling them... exactly how you felt. When I heard it... I couldn’t help thinking...”
“It... then it was my song that hurt you again? I—”
“No! Not like that! And... I’m not hurt, Lucas, it’s just—” your voice cuts off for a moment in a stifled sob, and before I am even aware of the emotion in me, let alone able to name it, I am at your side with my hand upon your shoulder. Though you startle, you do not stiffen or shrug me off, and eventually I find my words again.
“... Please. I wish to know. If there is anything I may do in the least, I shall... just as you have done for me.”
You are silent for some time, and the only sound between us, beside the distant waves upon the shore, is your quiet sniffling. But at last your voice comes, low and somewhat bleakly.
“It’s just... why do I still not know how I’m supposed to live, even though you’ve already figured it out so clearly...?”
I do not speak for several moments as I attempt to make sense of both your words and the turmoil of thoughts that have begun flying about me. Finally I say only, carefully, “what do you not know... of living?”
“Everything,” you whisper, and finally after taking a breath begin to speak.
“Why did I wake up in the woods without any memories? Why am I an Earthmate? Why did I end up in this town where Captain Livia and everyone else is so kind and trying to help, and not another one where I’d just be another villager? Why is it that I can do anything - farming, fighting, cooking, smithing— but still don’t remember which of it I even used to like? I thought when I started really enjoying smithing that I was definitely a knight or armorer or— but then I was also good at everything else ! And that sounds absurd to complain about, and it is, but— who exactly am I?!”
Then, after another shaky breath, “and what if it’s still not enough...? What if I... forget it all again? Even after... I’ve been doing everything I can, every day, to remember everyone...”
“Then I shall find you,” I say quietly, “and help you remember once again. And I vow even now that I shall do my utmost to assist you in recovering every memory you wish to regain. For you are the magnificent ranger with the great orange head that neither I nor Rigbarth shall forget, and the true friend who has taught a god how to live. So please allow me to do the same for you.”
“... but if you lose your memory again as well—”
“Then I shall simply remember again. I am a god, after all. Even unto eternity, as long as I exist, I shall remember you.”
The distant seabirds wheel and caw against the waves as we stand, silent once more. I know not whether my rather inarticulate statement had even made sense to you; I could only hope that it, along with what little of my emotion I could convey through my hand upon your shoulder, would be enough.
And then, finally, your voice comes again.
“Lucas...”
“Yes?”
“... must you remember me as ‘the ranger with the great orange head’? I really only wore that so the rest of the villagers would get used to odd sights, and not be so scared of Saru...”
When I am finally able to see you smiling again, tearfully and while wiping your nose with a sleeve, but nevertheless smiling, I commit this sight as well to my eternal memory. We eventually adjourn down to the beach to sit and talk about everything and nothing whatsoever (where you state resolutely, “Captain Livia did say my punishment for poisoning you was to help you figure out where your memory went, so I’m going to help you too, so can you please stop remembering the pumpkin thing”) - and as the sun finally sets upon the horizon again, casting your laughing profile in golden light, I realize that I have made one last conclusion unawares.
Fourth: Though long aeons may pass, I shall remember and protect your smile.
witchfall on Chapter 1 Thu 05 May 2022 01:49PM UTC
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