186: The Story Of Us (Part One) (Patreon)

Vir thought he’d prepared himself for what was to come, but he hadn’t. How could he?

Ashani pressed her fingers against the sides of Vir’s head, and like a drop falling on a still mirror pond, the world rippled outward. Where the ripple touched, Ash ceased to exist, restored to its former glory. The placement of the buildings and the streets remained the same, but everything else changed.

Gone were the dark storms and the ever-falling ash. Sinister black buildings instead shone a fabulous blue-white, their dull gold emblazonings shining brightly under vast blue skies and a dazzling sun.

“Allow me to take you to a time of ages past. To a time of hope and wonder. Of monumental accomplishment, when the Prime Imperium spanned the world. Before the Fall and the end of all things.”

The Age of Gods, Vir thought with growing excitement. I’m witnessing life as it was in the Age of Gods!

The joyous sounds of life erupted, filling the crisp, clean air.

The same place. A different time.

Vir’s mouth hung open, and he pointed to the sky. Above the half dozen Vimana that moved lazily through the skies above the city.

There, high up, was a sphere. A bright, glowing sphere. It wasn’t the sun.

“The moon?” Ashani asked. “What of it?”

“What is it?” Vir asked, panic growing in his voice. While large in the sky, it felt different to his vision. It felt far. Impossibly, vastly far. Like it was a part of the sky itself.

“The moon is a fixture of the sky. ‘Tis natural…”

“Ashani, there is no moon where I come from. It’s gone. Completely gone.”

“Truly?” Ashani said with a concerned expression. “‘Tis hard to fathom. Though, the fate of my people is equally difficult to comprehend.”

Vir stood transfixed at this moon, his mind going in circles. What was it? The sun was said to be the seat of Adinat’s power. Was the moon a representation of another god? Perhaps one that was no longer in power?

“Um, Lady Ashani? Did your people put the moon up there, by any chance? Or maybe the sun?”

Ashani stared at Vir for a long moment, then burst out in a fit of giggles. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she was forced to wipe them away as Vir stood there awkwardly scratching his chin.

“My apologies!” she said at last. “I have not laughed like this since… well, since before the fall. I’ve been rude.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” Vir said in embarrassment.

“We did not put the sun in the sky, no. Nor the moon. My peoples’ powers were vast, but we were not gods. The sun and the moon have always been.”

An avian beast zoomed by before Vir could reply, forcing him to duck, but he was too late.

Two beasts hit him… and passed right through.

“This is but a simulation of the world as it was millennia ago,” Ashani said. “You have nothing to fear.”

She brought the world to a halt. The beasts froze, allowing Vir to look at them. Allowing him to distract himself from the mind-bending concept of a moon.

Made entirely of Ash prana, they resembled far more elegant Ash’va, with longer, thinner heads and longer legs.

They were tethered to a beautiful chariot covered in golden patterns. Prana overlaid the actual gold, forming artful patterns that seamlessly blended inscriptions with prana. Its twin wheels left behind trails of Fire Affinity prana in the air, and a golden dome hovered above the chariot, seemingly unconnected.

Commanding the chariot was a man wearing the most gold Vir had ever seen on any living being. From gemstone rings, to bangles and bracers, necklaces, and even his armor that contoured his perfect abs, everything was bejeweled and gilded. Not even kings looked so impressive.

An enormous headdress flared out behind him, forming a circle of gold. An impressive black mustache decorated his bronze skin that lacked a single blemish.

Ashani resumed the simulation, and the chariot sped forth, disappearing in the distance.

It wasn’t the only one. The skies were dotted with such vehicles, speeding this way and that in a maze of lanes that crisscrossed above Mahādi.

“Follow me,” Ashani said, stepping off the tall building and falling elegantly to the surface of a nearby street.

Vir shelved his thoughts about the moon for later. There was simply too much to take in. If he tried to process it all, his head might’ve exploded.

That’s quite the drop, Vir thought, peering over the ledge. It had to have been as tall as the top of the Mahakurma’s shell, if not higher.

Vir bellowed a roar and jumped.

The black spires blurred around him as he plummeted, falling through the many lanes of sky traffic.

Light Step softened his fall. Even with the Talent, a fall from such height would’ve normally caused him a great deal of pain, though this time, he felt nothing.

The street was similarly lined with gold, though the avenue itself was a brilliant, spotless white. It was made of no material Vir could place. Hard like metal, but pleasantly warm to the touch, it overflowed with Ash Affinity prana.

Four-faced automatons, at least Vir assumed they were automatons—strode down the street, each face having a conversation with the others attached to its head.

Women wore silk dresses covered with ornate prana patterns that continuously shifted—pieces of living art. The women wore even more gold than the men, boasting piercings in their ears, nose, and exposed belly buttons.

The gold theme continued, with every single person Vir saw having at least a half dozen ornaments.

“My people enjoyed self expression,” Ashani said fondly, walking down the bustling road.

Vir followed behind Ashani, stricken with awe.

A man with baggy pants sat with arms and legs crossed and eyes closed, riding by on a silk rug—the sort Vir saw in the palace at Daha. Except this one floated on a layer of prana, whisking it silently to its destination.

“Fine handcrafted weapons! Come get some souvenirs for your children! They’ll love it!” a man said, twirling a chakram around his finger.

The deadly disk glinted and buzzed with a deathly sound. Vir felt a deadliness from the chakram, and instantly recognized the Ash Prana ringing the blade.

“He’s selling that to a child?” Vir exclaimed in horror.

A small boy, no older than eight or nine, jumped up and down in glee as he held the weapon. With his bare hands.

“Ama, can we get it?” he said, pleading with his mother. “Please? Please?”

“I assure you, it cuts through prana itself! Pranites ensure the blade will never dull, and it can reforge itself if ever bent or broken, so your boy here can chop as many seric dummies as his heart desires!”

The woman beside him rolled her eyes. “Does it at least return to you? These handmade contraptions always skimp on the details.”

“But of course! Watch!” The man threw the chakram high into the air. After reaching the zenith of its trajectory, the chakram shot back to him with the same force he’d thrown it with.

That sure would be nice… Vir thought enviously. Bet those chakrams could cut through anything.

The mother finally tossed the man a seric coin that looked all too familiar. In fact, it was exactly the same as the coin the Human Realm used.

“That weapon is nothing but a toy,” Ashani said. “The child could not cut himself with that even if he tried.”

Right. I keep forgetting they’re not human.

“You there! How about some fresh jamuns?” another vendor shouted, pointing to a passerby. A sweet treat levitated just above his palm, slowly whisking itself over to the unsuspecting customer, tempting them with its delicious smells.

“No? Perhaps a crisp, juicy Jalebi then?”

The jamun disappeared, replaced instantly with a spiraling orange treat that Vir recognized—he’d eaten one at the banquet at Avi.

“How?” Vir whispered, only half-believing the incredible feat.

The man just created a desert out of thin air!

“Lady Ashani?” Vir asked, trembling. “Your people could make things with prana?”

“Of course! From clothing to entire cities, all could be constructed with prana. Matter, energy, prana. My people were masters of conversion between these three forms.

“Such instant gratification, however, seldom made for satisfying experiences. Most of us preferred the older methods. Handmade items always demanded quite the premium, despite their inferiority to anything made through prana fabrication,” Ashani said, smiling wistfully. “They weren’t even aligned on a molecular level, let alone the submolecular.”

“Wait, why are there even vendors if people can make anything on demand?” Vir asked. For a society so advanced, it felt bizarre to him that they behaved so similarly to the people of today.

Ashani’s eyes twinkled. “For the experience, of course! Having everything at your fingertips can make for a dreadfully boring life, wouldn’t you agree?”

“The experience…”

“We were not always so,” she explained. “Long ago, when my people learned how to convert prana into matter, our society nearly died. As you can imagine, conjuring our hearts’ desires whenever we wished created many issues for us. People stopped talking to one another, holing themselves up in their homes. They lost their purpose in life. It was quite the crisis.”

“You’re not about to tell me that your people didn’t need to eat, are you?”

“Why, that’s precisely correct. We overcame the body’s basic requirements for sustenance long ago. Prana serves as a far superior, more efficient energy source for the body, after all. Why bother with the unpleasantness of consuming food?”

“Alas, food culture only grew more prevalent when it was no longer a daily necessity. You can imagine how people might grow bored after living for thousands of years, can’t you?”

“Thousands!?” Vir wheezed.

“Why, yes. After the Imperium solved aging and disease, few have ever died. The discovery happened well before my time, mind you. It was one of the more primitive advancements. Ancient history, really.”

Vir couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. How could he? How could he believe that the world had soared so high, only to fall so far? That people lived forever and worked miracles to hawk snacks! Snacks they didn’t even need to eat. For leisure. For fun.

How could he ever content himself with the current state of the world after seeing all this? These were beings who’d mastered prana in ways Vir couldn’t ever have imagined.

Ashani swept her arms over the street. “In all of recorded history, there has never been a civilization as prosperous or as powerful as us. Not before, and certainly not after. Hunger, disease, aging, poverty… even crime. These had all been conquered by my people, existing only as distant memories of darker times. This was Mahādi at the height of the Prime Imperium’s power.” She paused. “It exists now only as a hollow projection.”

Tears welled in Vir’s eyes. So much greatness. How many thousands—or perhaps millions—of souls had contributed to the development of such a civilization? How many millennia had it taken to accomplish such feats? And it’s all gone. Just… gone. All that knowledge. Lost forever.

Vir wiped his tears away. “Y’know? I’m kinda regretting this.”

“I have many regrets,” Ashani said softly, her words reaching him despite the bustle of the city, “the greatest of which is that you are the first to ever hear this story.”

Vir turned and faced the white lady. “I’m honored, Lady Ashani. I swear to you—they will not be forgotten. I’ll tell everyone about this.”

“You cannot know how happy that would make me,” Ashani said with a small smile. “Now come, there is much to be seen.”

Crowds of people wrapped up in animated conversation passed by, while others simply nodded and gestured to each other in silence, as if sharing a conversation only they could hear.

Vir spotted another four-faced automaton, talking to itself. Each face was attached to the same head, and each appeared to have its own personality.

It was a bizarre sight, though hardly out of place in this fantastical world of wonder.

What could possibly have brought down such an impressive people?

The Gods had simply vanished. Nobody knew of what came before, or what happened in their final days. There were rumors, of course, but nothing substantiated. Whatever it was had happened fast, for there were no records of the event.

“So far as I know, everyone I ever knew is dead,” Ashani said, and Vir had to wonder if mind reading was among her powers as well. “But survivors may very well remain, searching for ways back here.”

“You never found out?” Vir asked, walking beside Ashani through the crowded street. While she passed through the crowd as if they weren’t there, Vir avoided them where he could. They looked so real—he had a hard time just walking into them.

“My place is here, preserving what I can of my home. In case my people return,” she added softly. Vir wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it, but he did.

Will they return, though?

It wasn’t as though pockets of the Prime Imperium still existed—there had never once been a sighting in all of recorded history. Even if they’d hidden themselves, Vir figured some evidence would have existed in all the millennia that had passed.

“We have a lot of stories about your people in the Human Realm, y’know?”

“The… Human Realm?” Ashani asked, straightening her sagging shoulders.

“That’s where I came from,” Vir said.

“Interesting,” Ashani replied, cupping her chin. “My Ash Tears have never shown me such a place. It seems I have much to learn of the outside world. You must tell me everything!”

Vir chuckled. “I’ll try, but prepare to be disappointed. It’s nothing compared to what you’re showing me here.”

“Ashani doesn’t believe you. How can any tale of what is dead and gone compare to that of the now?”

It can when your tale is of literal gods.

Vir couldn’t fathom how these people were so comfortable using prana;  it was as if they were born with it. Prana was integrated into practically everything at a fundamental level—their chariots were drawn by beasts of pure prana. Their clothing and their jewelry incorporated it in their design, and they even used it to conjure objects out of thin air.

A woman walked by, her silk dress’ semi-translucent cape floating gently behind. Its color shifted moment to moment, matching its prana signature, which flowed in beautiful patterns.

Vir’s senses were overloaded, and that was ignoring all the sights he didn’t understand. There was the whole slew of oddities Vir couldn’t even begin to unravel, like the floating orbs that followed several people around.

At first glance, Vir just thought they were packed with Ash prana. They were—but that was only the start of it. Hundreds, if not thousands, of inscription rings ran around them, crisscrossing. Like those inscribed within human orbs, except miniaturized, and multiplied a thousandfold. There was so much going on inside those orbs, it made Vir dizzy just looking at them.

“Telepathy node amplifiers,” Ashani explained. “In-built nodes suffice for short range communication, but some of us desired a longer reach. The orbs facilitated communication with the Vidya.”

“Sorry, what? I recognize some of those terms from the… transference thing you did earlier, but I don’t have a clue what you meant.”

“Your society does not possess such technology, does it?”

Ashani’s question was so abrupt that it made him wince. He’d wondered when she’d come to that realization. “No,” he admitted. “No, we don’t. I’m afraid you’ll find the current state of the world quite pathetic.”

Ashani’s expression darkened. “I’d suspected, based on your reactions thus far. I see. Little survived, then…”

“Um, you were talking about those nodes?” Vir prompted, hoping to distract the lady. Sadness seemed to be her natural state, though after spending millennia alone in such a desolate wasteland, he could certainly see why.

“Right, of course. All of us communicated telepathically. Or at least, we had the option to. Many chose to speak with their vocal chords.”

“Let me guess. For the experience?” Vir asked, moving aside to allow a gilded man with a spiked headdress and an absurdly long cape pass by. The cape, like its wearer, hovered just above the ground, shimmering behind him as he floated by with his eyes closed.

Ashani nodded. “Exactly! But the telepathy nodes did more than allow for communication. Anything we wished to learn was but a thought or two away, made available by the Vidya—the repository containing all the collective knowledge and wisdom of our people.”

“What do you mean by anything?” Vir asked, following Ashani as she turned onto a less busy side road. If he’d been any less overwhelmed, he might’ve noticed it was the same street he’d been summoned onto by Ashani’s Ash Gate.

“Any skill you wish to learn, you could wield it with the perfection of our greatest masters. Any book knowledge you wished to possess would be yours, with as much clarity and understanding as the sages who wrote it.”

Wouldn’t that make every single person superhuman?

Vir tried to imagine a society where the youngest girl to the oldest man was not only a Balar 5,000 warrior, but the smartest person in the world.

“Wouldn’t everyone be… the same?” he asked. “If everyone had the same skills as everyone else?”

“Indeed. The creation of the Vidya nearly destroyed our society, turning it bare and lifeless.”

“How did they solve it?” Vir asked. The people he saw looked the exact opposite of lifeless.

“Through a rediscovery of the things we once loved, though for different reasons entirely. Self-expression became purpose. People craved—needed—uniqueness. The Vidya forced people to look elsewhere to obtain new experiences. From evolving art beyond the greatest grandmaster who’d come before to engaging in deep social relations and experiencing new emotions, my people found all sorts of innovative ways for culture to thrive.”

Vir craned his neck, looking up at the tall buildings that scraped the sky. Between them, entire sky lanes filled with chariots and magic carpets crisscrossed in all directions. Every one of those people wielded unimaginable power and had a hundred times more knowledge than the entire Known World combined. Thrive was certainly the right word.

“Y’know? I really didn’t think I could get any more impressed. I figured there had to be a limit somewhere.”

“Oh?” Ashani asked with a bemused expression.

“I stand corrected. My people worship you as gods. I admit, I used to as well, when I was little. Then I learned of the Prime Imperium, and I thought ‘maybe they’re not so different, after all’.”

“There are some physiological differences between our people, but not to any great degree, I think,” Ashani replied, appraising Vir.

“Apologies, Lady Ashani, but I disagree. I was wrong. You are gods. The world of today, it’s… It’s a hollow, broken shell. We don’t stay young forever. We don’t have a Vidya repository. Diseases reap lives despite our best efforts. Crime, poverty, all these things exist, and they’re not going away. And we certainly can’t fly on magic carpets or create things out of thin air. Let alone fashion gorgeous automatons who think and feel and conjure Ash Gates on a whim! I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed by your successors.”

“Ashani is touched that you feel that way, but a culture’s worth is not determined by its technological advancement alone. Your art, your history, these are unique to you, and in no way inferior to our own. Different, perhaps, but not any less. No, I believe your people are incredible in their own ways. If there is a difference between us, it is simply one of time.”

Time, huh. I wonder.

Vir couldn’t see humans reaching this state of advancement, even after millennia. It was more likely that the Ash would have taken over the whole realm by then. Their legacy would be nothing more than a land of corrupted monsters and toxic air.

“It’s just hard, Ashani, knowing these dazzling heights your people once achieved. Today, people sacrifice their lives seeking what your people might have passed off as junk. Just to experience a sliver of that greatness. Every weapon I saw sold on that street would be hailed as a divine Artifact of the Gods. It’d be the treasure of any nation’s arsenal.”

Vir laughed. How pathetic. He was starting to understand what Cirayus was talking about when he waxed nostalgic of greater times long passed. And he hadn’t even experienced what the Imperium was like.

“Your people came before us,” Vir said. “We should have inherited your legacy. Why didn’t we?”

How could we have fallen so far?

It was one thing to strive for greatness when you believed you were pushing the boundaries of innovation—venturing into the unknown and unlocking secrets no one ever had.

But what if it was all a lie? What if everything you ever learned—every advancement you ever made—had already been made before? Learned, and then forgotten. What then? How did one go on, knowing just how much further they had to go? It was like climbing a ladder that had no end. Vir had lived his whole life with a cloud obscuring those higher rungs. Now, the cloud was gone, and he saw the ladder for what it truly was—built and climbed by his ancestors, long ago. He, and everyone else, were simply rebuilding what they once had in abundance, and they were still at the bottom rungs.

“We are here,” Ashani said, stopping at a door that Vir recognized.

“This is your home! Janak’s home!”

Ashani nodded. “This is where it all begins.”

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NOTE: I'm gonna try my best to get some art of Mahadi as it was during its heyday, but no promises. AI is really bad about getting details right XD