Dragonlord

Ep 131. Confessions of the Historian: Memories Ablaze

Confessions of the Historian are non-continuous pseudo chapters that feature a timeframe far removed from the main story. They will not affect the main story’s update schedule, and will instead be uploaded at random intervals alongside them.

Ep 131. Confessions of the Historian: Memories Ablaze

It was never this way from the beginning.

Once, you’d looked to your creator for guidance. You’d guide and teach others. You led a life befitting that of a deity.

Had you continued to live in ignorance of your blessing, then perhaps you’d still have retained yourself.

And yet, your curiosity had pushed you onto a path to madness.

Who are you, really?

In your broken, faded memories,

Who is it that you truly yearn to be?

 

✧   ✧   ✧

“Aymeia.”

“Oh, Lord Felicir! You’re here!”

In the corners of a flowerbed within their golden temple, a lone girl remained on the ground, beamed a bright smile at her creator. Despite her lengthy dark hair sprawled about the dirt beneath her, she didn’t seem to mind it at all.

And although her head was lowered in a respectful gesture, her two hands remained glued onto the ground.

Watching the girl’s actions in amusement, the Reaper slowly approached the star deity, his gaze falling unto the two little hands that were touching the soil beneath.

“Good to see you’re well. What’re you reading today?”

Resonance with their very world: an exclusive right that belonged to the deity of stars. While Aymeia herself had little idea of its actual workings, in her own words, it was akin to reading an endless picture book.

Countless lives that had thrived upon the star’s soil comprised the book’s contents. A simple read was all it took for Aymeia to share their feelings, and experience their memories.

“Today…well…”

After a brief pause, Aymeia made a sheepish smile towards the Reaper.

“To be honest, today’s memories aren’t really happy ones. It’s a lone son that was left all on his own…it looks like he missed his mother a lot.”

The Reaper tilted his head in response. To him, the peculiar story was rather familiar.

“That’s quite unfortunate. But if that’s the case, then wouldn’t it be better for you to glimpse into someone else’s memories?”

“You’re right, I absolutely could. But…”

With longing eyes, the star deity beamed towards the soil beneath her.

“It’s just…I feel strangely connected to this individual. It’s like they’re my own memories…”

“…Is that so?”

As much as he wanted to stop Aymeia by force, even Felicir couldn’t hastily bend the star deity to his will.

If she were to die under any means, then that would call for yet another suitable vessel to the divinity she held – and having one was already a miracle in of itself. If worse comes to pass, then Aymeia’s passing may very well necessitate another reset of their world.

And so, the Reaper merely gave Aymeia an encouraging tap on her back, supporting the girl’s peculiar pastime.

“Don’t get too absorbed now. If you become depressed from those memories, then who’s going to put the sun up every morning?”

“The sun?...But the sun’s never…?”

“Haha. I’m joking, I’m joking.”

Not even the Reaper had any way of knowing at this point – of just how much the star’s resonance would change his innocent student.

But as soon as Felicir walked out of Aymeia’s temple, a pair of glaring eyes caught his attention.

A dissatisfied hero stood leaning on a temple pillar, arms crossed in a defiant stance.

“…Got a problem there, hero?”

“I do not approve.”

“Are we going there again? I told you, we need Aymeia.”

“The need you speak of is but a mere opinion of yours. You’d dare defy divine will?”

“I mean, even if you put it like that…my will is divine will now.”

Widening his sunken eyes in fury, Hathelon immediately summoned a blade into his hand.

“Insolence! You’d dare replace the First? You could never bec-“

“Shh. Pipe down, hero.”

Following the Reaper’s phrase, Hathelon instantly froze in his act. Despite his screaming senses, his body refused to move; even as Felicir approached him with an ominous smile on their lips, Hathelon couldn’t so much as even lift a finger.

“Have you not yet learned? Your boundless inventory, your peerless divinity, weapons of the velklord’s make…none of it have any meaning before me.”

“…”

“Watch yourself, Hathelon. Especially in Aymeia’s presence.”

“…Hmph. If you cared so much about your dear student, then you should’ve denied her from the very beginning. That demonling doesn’t even remember who you a- kgh!”

As the smile faded away from Felicir’s lips, Hathelon’s grip on his weapon instantly loosened, his blade clattering onto the ground. The Judge’s hands soon wrapped themselves around his own neck, choking their very owner.

And in his fading consciousness, Death whispered into his ears.

“I allowed you to live. I allowed you to judge the remaining demonkin like you wished. I even allowed you to keep the velklord’s shell. How much more do you need before you learn some humility?”

“…”

“Felicis asked me to allow your survival. Don’t make me reconsider that, Hathelon.”

✧   ✧   ✧

Upon his next visit, Felicir looked around the golden temple’s interior in confusion. He searched from corner to corner to look for Aymeia, but to no avail.

‘That’s strange…it’s only noon. Where is she?’

Giving up on his search, the Reaper instead turned back to approach the gardener outside.

“Sorry. Could I interrupt you for a second?”

“…?! Lord Felicir! Why, of course! Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Aymeia. Have you seen her?”

“Uh…Lady Aymeia? She did say she’d go on a walk earlier today. Now that you mention it, I don’t believe she’s returned since…”

“Ah, thanks. That helps.”

After beaming back at the gardener, Felicir briskly turned around to leave the temple’s vicinity. His eyes darted from corner to corner as he searched for the star deity.

“That’s odd. She’s not one to go out for so long…huh?”

Before long, the Reaper’s eyes beheld what was likely the weirdest sight he’d seen this decade.

“Grrgh…”

In the nearby field of grass, Aymeia was on all fours, growling like an animal as she held a dead rabbit between her clenched teeth. As if proud of her success, the deity’s expression resembled that of a wild predator after a successful hunt.

Though, as soon as she locked eyes with the Reaper, the rabbit fell out of her mouth.

“Ah, Lord Felicir!”

“…Aymeia…what’re you doing?”

“Oh, me? I was just on a walk…”

“A walk, you say…”

As Felicir lowered his gaze, a bloodied rabbit came to view. Aymeia’s lips and clothes were likewise drenched in blood, causing the Reaper to question his vision.

“If you’re on a walk…then do tell, what’s the rabbit for?”

“Huh? Um…”

Aymeia lowered her own gaze to the rabbit that had fell out of her mouth. She soon rose to her two feet like a proper human being, scratching her head in confusion.

“The children…I was going to…um…”

“…The children?”

After a confused silence, Aymeia met her creator’s gaze once more, her eyes just as confused as his.

“…I’m…not sure…what was I doing with a rabbit…?”

“…”

Hearing the confusion in Aymeia’s voice, Felicir forced himself to smile, gently petting the star deity’s head.

“…I suppose the recent drought had been a bit harsh on Asarda’s children. You wanted to give them something to eat, didn’t you? That’s very kind.”

“Huh? Um…m…maybe? Since you’re saying so, I…think that’s probably right…”

“Mhm. But since you’re not quite presentable at the moment, let’s get you and that rabbit thoroughly cleaned before we visit the villages. And next time, you can simply call on me if you want to catch a wild animal.”

“Ah…okay. I’ll do that!”

As Aymeia rushed to clean herself at a nearby stream, Felicir wordlessly waved his hand towards the running deity.

And at this point, not even the Reaper had any way of knowing.

That Aymeia’s strange hunts would repeat over, and over, and over again.

 

✧   ✧   ✧

“Lady Aymeia.”

“Huh?…Lord Clyus?”

“No, no, please. Just Clyus is enough.”

The elf approached the star deity with cautious steps, caring not to step on the flowers nearby. And as he made his way through the flowerbeds, he couldn’t help but notice the peculiar change within the girl before him.

“I see your hair’s changed in color. Was the last not to your liking?”

“Oh, um…I’m…actually not too sure why it changed. They just started growing orange like this…is it weird?”

“Not at all, my lady. The brightness suits you quite well.”

Beaming a warm smile, Clyus spared a moment to gaze upon the flowerbeds that surrounded them.

“And pairs nicely with the flowers, might I add. This garden seems to grow in beauty every visit.”

“Haha…it’s all thanks to everyone working so tirelessly. I just sit here all day…”

“While I do agree that their efforts are invaluable, you should give yourself credit as well. Even the Sky’s left Asarda’s climate entirely in your hands, yes? They haven’t experienced a single drought since. I’m sure Asardans are ever thankful for their land’s guardian.”

Even as she heard the elven deity’s compliment, Aymeia could do little than look away in shame. She stared down at the blooms beneath her, wondering if that’s what the people actually thought of her.

“…I don’t think I deserve their gratitude. I’m only doing this because I can’t leave Asarda.”

“Oh? Not too fond of this land anymore?”

Aymeia hurriedly wove her hands in denial, shaking her head.

“Oh, um, that isn’t to say I dislike it here or anything! It’s just…the world’s a big place. And even without being there, I still see and hear so many things. Sometimes, I can’t help but want to be there myself. But I can’t leave my temple, so…”

“Ah. As I recall, you were able to read the star’s memories like a book, yes? To have memories without the experience…I can’t imagine what that’d be like.”

After flicking the cane in his hand, Clyus lightly tipped his top hat, beaming towards the pouting star deity.

“Well, Felicir did send me to check on you. So, how about this? Just for today, I will escort you anywhere you’d like.”

“Huh…? But if Lord Felicir found out…”

“He’s quite occupied with Letherien’s request today. You’ve nothing to worry about – I won’t tell a soul of our small venture.”

“…But…”

“We can return whenever you’d like. You need but say the word.”

“…”

A wave of temptation gnawed at Aymeia’s heart. She’d seen Clyus accompanying her creator a number of times; she knew exactly what he was capable of.

After a few more seconds slipped past in waning hesitation, Aymeia slowly parted her lips.

“Then…there’s one place I do want to visit…”

 

✧   ✧   ✧

Stepping through the dimensional gate, Aymeia’s eyes marvelled before the surrounding walls of ice. Despite being in the depths of an enormous pit, their frozen surface seemed to gleam in a magical radiance.

“…Wow. So it really was here…”

“Hm. Have we come to the right place?”

Clyus followed after the star deity, studying their destination with a curious gaze. He then faced upwards, staring into the clouds far, far above.

“A frozen pit? That’s rather peculiar. Is there something special about this place, my lady?”

“…This is the place…that I see most from the star’s memories.”

Even as she spoke, Aymeia’s eyes remained fixed onto the frozen figure at the pit’s centre.

Entranced steps carried the star deity forth towards the figure – towards the frozen remains of a resolute dragon that had raised the current kin.

“…You…must be…”

Following Aymeia’s steps with a confused expression, Clyus too, studied the mass of ice before them.

“Quite the sight to behold. Is that an ice sculpt?”

“…No. He was a living dragon. He was…”

Aymeia trailed off her words, delicately laying her hand upon the draconic figure.

And soon, her watered eyes burst into tears.

“Lady Aymeia? What’s wrong?!”

When Clyus abruptly placed his hand upon Aymeia’s shoulder, she slowly turned to lock eyes with the elven deity.

And, much to the elf’s dismay, resting within the star deity’s eyes were a pair of inhuman black streaks that had replaced her pupils. Watered eyes glistened amidst her grief-stricken expression.

“Feli…cir…”

“My lady, are you alright? If you’re looking for Felicir, I could take us to where he is.”

“…Curse you.”

“…? I’m sorry?”

In a burst of anger, Aymeia forcefully pushed away the elven deity.

Orange flames flared to life around her body, her eyes growing crimson in color to mirror the fiery light. A pair of crimson-tipped horns grew out of her head, her voice coated in a deep-seated hatred.

“…Your soul will rot in the deepest pits of hell. I will remember your atrocities for all eternity!”

 

✧   ✧   ✧

“…And that’s what she said. But she doesn’t seem to remember any of it.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Interesting? That’s it?”

Clyus dropped his jaw at his friend’s dismissive tone. He frantically wove his cane atop the lifeless mountainside, pointing down towards Aymeia’s temple far below.

“You’ve nothing else to say? She almost blew up the valley whole! If I hadn’t moved her elsewhere, the dragons would’ve found out instantly!”

“What else would you like to hear? A ‘good job’? Good job, Clyus.”

“…”

Clyus squinted his eyes at the Reaper’s response to his story – or lack thereof.

“…Come, Felicir. Surely you have SOME idea of what was going on there.”

“Why, sure I do. While I was busy cleaning after Letherien’s mess, you were sneaking off with Aymeia behind my back.”

“…”

Instead of a serious response, the Reaper only returned a casual smile towards the elven deity – as if their story had little to no value.

“It’s not the first time she’s confused memories of others as her own. It’s nothing to be concerned over.”

“…Are you saying this has been happening frequently? She wasn’t like this in the beginning.”

“I’m sure she’ll stabilize in time.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“…”

Clyus crossed her arms, shaking his head in dismay. He tone grew heavy as he pressed the Reaper for a serious solution.

“This is no small problem, Felicir. You know what her divinity’s capable of. If Aymeia were to lose her mind to some evil entity, then she could cause irreversible damage upon the star.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“…Listen, I’ve heard that Hathelon’s been searching for new ways to destroy the shards. If he succeeds, then perhaps we should just-“

“Clyus.”

As soon as the Reaper spoke his name, the elven deity immediately shut his lips. Even though no external influence ailed his body, Clyus found his body frozen in fear from his friend’s unforgiving gaze.

“I said that’s not going to happen.”

“…Right.”

The Reaper dismissively wove his hands. His tone loosened in temper, though Clyus remained frozen just the same.

“And forget about that pit. Don’t ever take Aymeia back in there, either.”

“…Why? What even was that pit? She said the sculpt inside was once a living dragon, but I’ve never heard of dragons having such exquisite burials.”

“How do you NOT know what that pit is? I even told you about the contract we’d made with the dragonkin.”

“…? You did?”

As his elven friend struggled to understand his words, the Reaper let out a derisive snort.

“You weren’t listening before, were you?...Actually, perhaps it’s for the best.”

“Why? What was that pit?”

“Forget it. It’s best you don’t know.”

It’s best nobody ever knows.

Ever.

✧   ✧   ✧

Clyus looked around the strange scenery that stretched on from the same mountaintop. The elven deity drew a cold, raspy breath, shivering from the chilling winds brushing against his face.

“…I realize it’s been a while, but…really?”

Ever since his little venture with Aymeia a few centuries ago, Felicir had outwardly banned the star deity from going anywhere near the dragonlord’s grave. In fact, she was told to remain in her temple at all times unless told otherwise by the Reaper.

But in the passing years, strange events continued to happen throughout Asarda.

The lush fields of grass grew cold and lifeless from their prolonged winters. Flowers withered away in the land’s falling climate, and bursts of fire had long incinerated the star deity’s temple.

Countless Asardans were left to starve or freeze. Many were forced to leave their homeland for survival.

But even then, their once-benevolent guardian remained holed up where her temple once was. The mounds of ice continued to grow around her to eventually form a large, frozen cavern of her own.

‘It’s like she made this entire place to be that pit…’

No more could Clyus see the rainbow of flowers around Aymeia. No worshipper remained to greet his coming, and no Asardan remained to build a temple for their worshipped guardian.

A bitter laughter escaped the elven deity.

“You were wrong, my friend. Just look at this place…she never did stabilize.”

Even as Aymeia spoke of the welfare of her children, never again would she show any affection for her people.

Even as she longed for those that had left her here, never again would she show any gratitude for those that remained at her side.

And even as she continued to call herself ‘Aymeia,’ never again would she greet Felicir with the same smile.

He was her creator and teacher. At the same time, he was her sworn enemy.

She was still Aymeia.

But of course, she no longer was.

✧   ✧   ✧

 

Who is it that you see reflected upon the ice?

Who is it that you hear in your voice?

The answer should be an obvious one. And yet, it is not so obvious to you anymore.

Poor child. You were taught how to live, taught you how to lead. You thought yourself capable of everything you were entrusted with.

And yet, you were never taught how to die.                          

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