253: The Fable (Patreon)

Vir left Greesha’s temple with a torrent of emotions welling inside him. There had been so much more to say, but the time wasn’t right. Vir hadn’t even broached the topic of Greesha’s prophecy of his birth, and wasn’t sure when he would. He was afraid that if he had, he couldn’t have restrained his pent up anger.

And so he’d forced it down. Right now, he simply couldn’t afford to lose even a single ally.

Vir crossed the streets, passing by Kothis, red demons, and bandies with his Chitran Laborer Calling badge slung around his neck. There was another in his bag, with a different name and Calling. 

He’d altered his makeup and now bore the face of a red demon. Similar to the previous one, yet different enough not to be mistaken—this way, he had a couple of legitimate identities he could shift between as needed. Greesha’s pull was real—she’d had the badges made in just moments, instructing Vir to seek a woman named Janani.

Vir wasn’t really sure what he ought to be doing. For the first time in as longas he could remember, he had no concrete goal, other than the vague desire to grow closer to the Gargans living in Samar Patag. He hoped this Janani might give him a bit of direction.

A black blur in the corner of Vir’s vision interrupted his thoughts.

About time…

Shan was waiting for Vir on a rooftop. The pointed cones of the buildings made for awkward footing, but they also perfectly hid anyone who managed it.

“About time you showed up,” Vir said, kneeling and stroking the Ash Wolf’s jet-black fur. It’d taken the better part of a year for the animal to open up to pets, and Vir considered it a hard-fought perk. He was willing to bet that for most people, petting an Ash Wolf was the last thing they ever pet.

“Bet you were out exploring the city, weren’t you? Find anything good?”

Shan snorted.

“No? Well, I’m gonna need you to keep doing your own thing for now, alright? I might be able to disguise myself, but you stick out like a sore thumb.”

Shan bared his teeth and growled.

“Hey, you know it’s true! How many other wolves like yourself have you seen around here?”

Grumbling, Shan started licking his paw.

“Don’t worry. You know me—getting into trouble’s what I do. When that happens, you can go to wild, alright? Just stay close, in case I need you.”

Shan gruffed at Vir, threw him a look of what Vir swore was concern, then bounded off.

“Would it kill that wolf to roll over for some belly rubs from time to time?” Vir muttered, sighing.

— —

“Through the merchant district, near the northern wall. In the depths of the slums. When the surroundings have gone from bad to worse, you’ll find the orphanage.”

Those had been Greesha’s instructions to Vir. He’d dreaded that he’d find Janani in the same sort of squalid neighborhood where he’d first entered the city.

It wasn’t the same neighborhood. But it was just as bad.

The people living here were just a few steps away from death. Some were dead, as Prana Vision revealed.

Vir had only just purged the depressing sight from his mind, and now he was forced to confront it yet again.

The only silver lining was how the slums were contained within the city walls, offering them protection from the elements and animals, unlike Daha. Though, Vir doubted it was out of consideration for the slum dwellers’ wellbeing.

It was the voices of children playing that helped Vir find the building—a two-story affair that was on the verge of falling apart.

The demon children all ran around barefoot, as was the norm for most of the denizens of this part of town.

“Come quick, you’ll miss it!” a girl squealed, rushing back into the orphanage. Her friends followed, pouring into the building.

Vir edged closer and peeked through the open doorway. Thirty children packed tightly into the room, which, despite its tall ceiling, was actually quite small. Janani had likely repurposed whatever building she could find.

“Tell us that one again, Janani!” a boy said.

“Yeah! That one!”

“Again? I just told it yesterday!” The red demon with long black hair—Janani—said. She stood at a lectern at the end of the room and was the only adult around.

Vir crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, wondering just what tale was about to be told.

The chorus of kids’ voices crescendoed until Janani threw her hands up in defeat.

“Fine, fine! Settle down! Quiet! I swear…” Janani shook her head, smiling wryly.

The din died down as the kids hushed each other. Even Vir was growing excited. If they liked it this much, surely the tale couldn’t be all that bad?

“C’mon! Tell us!”

“Alright already! This… is a story from before you were born. Of a time when a great Lord ruled our—sorry, the Garga—clan.”

Interesting, Vir thought, leaning in. Maybe I’ll learn a bit about the clan’s history.

“Our clan! Our clan! Our Clan!” the children chanted, prompting Janani to look warily around.

Her eyes landed on Vir, who smiled back, but Janani frowned in suspicion.

“I… I, er…” Janni looked nervously between Vir and the kids, some of whom turned to stare up at him.

Understanding what was happening, Vir held up Greesha’s emblem.

Janani mouthed an ‘O’ in recognition, and the tension left her.

“C’mon, Janani! Why did you stop? Tell us how great Samar Patag was!”

“Yeah! Tell us!”

“You lot already know the story! Why don’t you narrate it, instead?” Janani snapped, but there was a happiness to her expression she couldn’t quite mask.

“Nooooo! We want to hear it from you!”

Janani cleared her throat. “Then no interruptions. Promise?”

“Promise!”

Janani nodded approvingly. “Very well. Samar Patag was a great city back then. Prosperous and rich. Nothing like today. The streets were clean, and not a single demon ever felt the grasp of hunger.”

The kids stole glances at each other, their eyes sparkling.

“Not that there weren’t problems. There were, of course. Life was still hard for many. But the people were happy and everyone was treated fairly.”

“You were there, right Janani?” A boy shouted enthusiastically.

“Yes, Bolin. I was a teacher. I taught in a school with many dozens of students. And did you know?”

“Know what?” the boy asked.

“Not one of them interrupted me when I talked,” she said, giving him a stern look.

Bolin bowed his head sheepishly.

“One day,” Janai continued, “a great seer made a prophecy.”

“Old lady Greesha!” a girl cried out, before clasping her hands over her mouth, looking profoundly guilty.

“Yes, Ekta,” Janani said, her brow twitching. “The wise Greesha proclaimed the reincarnation of the fabled Akh Nara, whose birth would usher in an era of greatness for all of demonkind.”

Vir’s heart skipped a beat. When Janani had mentioned a seer, he’d immediately suspected.

This wasn’t just any story. It was his story… and that terrified him. These kids had heard the tale perhaps dozens of times. What did they think of him? Of the war? Did they hate him? And what of Janani? She’d lived through that dark time herself. There wasn’t a chance in the Ash that she’d emerged unscathed.

Bracing himself, Vir braced himself, resolving to soak up every word.

“In a rare vision of extreme clarity, Seer Greesha proclaimed the reincarnation of the fabled Akh Nara, whose birth would usher in an era of greatness for all demonkind!”

The children whispered excitedly, and Vir heard Akh Nara mentioned over and over. Vir scanned their faces, but he didn’t see even a hint of resentment. Only hope. And awe.

“However!” Janani shouted, silencing the whispering children. “The prophecy had a dire condition. The baby would have to be born within Hara Chakai—within the Ashen Realm itself.”

“What happened then, Janani?” a girl asked.

“King Maion bravely took the pregnant Queen Shari and marched into the Ash with Cirayus, his loyal friend.”

“The Ravager!” Bolin shouted.

“Indeed. They were accompanied by their entire royal retinue. The strongest Gargan warriors protected them. Yet the journey was an arduous one. The beasts they fought were unimaginable. Terrors beyond anything you lot can imagine!”

The children were silent now, as if holding their breaths. Vir could almost feel their fear. Fear of the unknown. Of horrific beasts stalking the Ash.

They aren’t wrong to fear.

“And yet, they persisted. They prevailed! And the young Akh Nara was born! True to the Seer’s prophecy, the baby bore the tattoo of his predecessors, proving that—”

“What happened to the Akh Nara, Janani?” Bolin shouted, but was silenced by Janani’s angry rebuke.

“Bolin!”

“S-sorry!”

“No one knows,” Janani replied wistfully. “Some say he disappeared into the Ash, where he lives to this day. Others say that Chitran killed him when they sacked Samar Patag.”

“W-what do you think?” Ekta asked.

“Me? I…” she paused, and Vir leaned forward unconsciously.

“I believe he’s alive, somewhere,” Janani said softly. “Waiting for the right moment to reveal himself. Biding his time to take revenge on those who’ve taken everything from us. I believe… I hope… that some day, he will return.”

“When he does, will get new clothes?” another girl asked. “I want shoes! Will he give us shoes?”

Janani smiled gently. “When he returns, Hiya, you shall have all the shoes you could ever want.”

The room burst into joyous hoots and yells.

Vir backed away, his knees unsteady.

This, more than anything Cirayus had ever divulged about his past, hit hardest. It was one thing to be aware of the expectations of strangers. Faceless masses, realms apart.

It was another entirely to witness a room full of children cheering. Rooting. For him. For the hope of a brighter future.

Vir’s heart pumped madly, but what he felt was not excitement, nor even the hope for which these children so desperately yearned.

It was guilt. Guilt over betraying them. Guilt that he couldn’t possibly live up to their expectations.

Vir made to leave.

“Ah, look!” Janani said. “It appears we have a visitor!”

Every eye in the room in the eye locked onto him. Vir’s legs nearly buckled. His instincts, honed to perfection in the Ash, told him to run. To flee. To sink into the shadows. Anything to avoid facing the weight of those faces.

But Vir did not run. He hadn’t come this far, only to cower. He hadn’t risked his life over and over in the Ash, nearly dying, to hide.

It didn’t matter if the burden of responsibility weighed as much as a Godhollow. Too many had sacrificed too much for him. For the hope he represented. He couldn’t leave. He didn’t want to.

Vir turned and he mustered his friendliest smile.