049.001

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Epilogue

The Man in Chains

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Bercilak leaned back in his cell, wondering whether or not this was the victory promised to him. It was… difficult to believe it was despite the bravado with which he had faced down Lyria’s Black Prince the day of the battle. If it could even be called a battle. A slaughter without bloodshed was a more accurate descriptor. Or, without much bloodshed in any case. Almost everyone wielding some of the prophesied technology had fallen. After the battle, a few had tried to fight back instead of laying down their arms. Those few had likely already been sacrificed in the name of Lyria’s dark god.

His current predicament certainly did not feel like a victory. Chained behind bars, he couldn’t help but think that they had simply been served up on a platter for their enemies. They hadn’t even been able to put their new weapons to the test before they were summarily decimated. All by one person. No. One abomination. The one the seer had warned them of shortly after he had been freed from his previous stay inside this very cell. They had been given the gift of knowledge to create weapons specifically to combat the abomination, yet…

Looking up as the heavy wooden door creaked open, Bercilak watched as a pair of guards walked down the hall, past a few empty cells, to stop at his. One carried a wooden bowl. Feeding time. His only contact with other people since the royal family stopped caring to interrogate him some weeks ago. He didn’t have much information to give, but what little he did, he was proud to say that he had kept it safely locked inside his own head.

Unfortunately, the guards bringing the meals weren’t exactly the talkative sorts. They never were. They were here solely to bring him food to keep him from starving to death. Though, frankly, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t simply refuse to eat. The gruel they brought was hardly edible. They hadn’t even set the bowl down yet and he already knew that it would be runny slop with a few oats barely fit for horses to fill out the water. He didn’t even need to see the contents to tell that much. It was all he had eaten since arriving in this place.

Sure enough, one guard unlocked the door. The other stepped inside and set the bowl on the ground. A bit roughly at that, spilling some small portion of it. It could be worse, he supposed, staring at them from his cot until they had locked the door once again. They could be beating me instead of spilling food. There were only two of them and the cell had been wide open. He might have been able to try to fight them were it not for his diet since… How long had he been here again? Was it still a small enough timeframe to count in weeks rather than months? He wasn’t sure. At all. His previous stay in the Lyrian dungeons had been a mere week or two before being freed. This time, there would be no rescue coming. His most talented subordinate had been captured as well, and she was the one who had led the disruption that bought him freedom last time. Now, he was weak, probably growing sickly, and would likely wither away in these dungeons while everyone in the Federation thought him already dead.

Maybe he would starve himself. Just to save him some time, if not suffering. Though he didn’t really wish to meet the Lyrian god… he didn’t see himself having much of an opportunity to return home to avoid that fate.

Just as he was trying to work up the motivation to take the bowl of food, Bercilak heard the door open once again. That was… irregular. There was no one else in this section of the dungeons, though there were three other cells near his. Maybe they were bringing in another prisoner? Having someone to speak with would certainly help pass the time, if nothing else.

But there was only a single set of footsteps approaching. And when he saw who it was that stopped in front of his cell, he felt the last vestiges of hope vanish.

It had all been for nothing.

The woman. The abomination. She was here in front of him, alive and well. She had swapped out her scaled armor for slim dress with golden embroidery on a black fabric. It didn’t show off much skin, but enough to tell that she was uninjured even. And her eyes weren’t glowing the bright white they had been the last time he saw her. Noticing that little detail made him think that maybe there was a slight change that even if she was physically fine, her powers were gone.

At least, he thought that right up until she tilted her head. An iridescent gleam crossed over her brown irises, lighting them up with just a faint supernatural energy. Despite how faint it was, he couldn’t help but feel more unnerved than ever. This thing in front of him, wearing the guise of a human, was not of this world. Of that, he was certain.

“Good evening, Bercilak,” she said cordially. Her voice wasn’t natural either. It carried a strange hum that made him want to grab the nearest pointed object and drive it straight into his ears so that he might never hear it again.

She winced. “Sorry about that,” she hummed. “Tenebrael didn’t notice it, but Kasita didn’t like it either. Then again, I’m not here to comfort you. I’m just here to pick your brain a little.”

“Leave.” Bercilak’s voice trembled. He scrunched up on his cot, pressing back against the wall of his cell as he drew his knees up to his chest. His hands clamped down over his ears, pressing tight almost of their own volition. He scrunched his eyes shut.

But he could still see her. The room was gone, but she was still there. That abomination with the iridescent eyes stared at him even though he had his eyes shut!

“Yes,” she said, sounding disappointed. Looking disappointed as well. “I’m definitely going to have to figure that out before showing myself to the others. But that’s half the reason I’m talking to you first.”

Bercilak opened his eyes again. If he had to look at her no matter what, better to go with the way that wasn’t so obviously wrong. Though, now that he was looking, he couldn’t help but notice other things that were just plain wrong. There was no wind, yet her hair was curling around her shoulders with a life of its own. And the way she moved… He hadn’t noticed when she stepped up to his cell, but she had an after image of sorts. When she moved to cross her arms, her arms trailed behind themselves. Yet it almost looked like the initial motion was the afterimage. Her arms crossed, first as a shimmering half-transparent version of themselves that gleamed with the same iridescence as her eyes, then as solid flesh.

She looked to the side, head turning in much the same manner. For a long moment, she was still staring at him even though a ghostly image of her body was examining his cell. By the time her actual head started moving, the pre-afterimage was back to staring at him.

An involuntary shudder wracked his body.

“Mhm…” the woman hummed.

“Why are you here?”

“Partially as a test. Partially because I’m having a bit of trouble and thought you could help me out.”

“I have nothing to say to Tenebrael’s lackey.”

“Oh. No. I’m not connected to Tenebrael at all at the moment. We’re in something of an equal partnership at the moment. Technically speaking, I’m pretty sure I’m far more powerful than she is, but I’ve not brought it up. She’s been busy examining herself anyway. Trying to become a little more mortal. But you don’t need to concern yourself with any of that.

“Rather, I’m wondering if you could help with a somewhat philosophical question.”

“You came to a hated enemy for advice in the matters of philosophy?”

“Hated? Please,” she said, waving a hand. It did that thing again. Bercilak tried to look away, only to find himself still facing forward. It wasn’t just the woman that was still at the center of his vision, the whole front of his cell was still there even though his head was definitely at an angle. “I barely know you. The amount of time you were on my mind was basically none. I didn’t even think about you unless you were actively present. Even then, you were always something of an afterthought to the Juno Federation as a whole.”

Bercilak felt like he was going to throw up.

“But my problem does involve you. You see, I intend to end hostilities between Juno and Lyria. My question is just how I should go about stopping animosity.”

“My people won’t bow to Tenebrael. Terrify them with your presence all you want, it will only increase their resolve.”

“Yeah, I know. I took a random sampling of people’s thoughts. Pretty sure there is going to have to be a long-form change taking place. Years and years of work and whispering into the right people’s ears. Undoing all of Adrael’s hard work to get your people stirred up against Lyria in the first place. But I would like a more immediate solution that will at least stop your periodic wars. They really are senseless, you know. Despite being a theocracy, half the Juno Federation’s top leaders don’t even believe in anything at all! A portion of your armies are just political dissidents and troublesome people. And despite your devotion, they do consider you to be one of those troublesome sorts. Magic, after all, is something they don’t like anyone but those at the very top wielding.”

Bercilak winced back. There were rumors of such intentions. That the Juno Federation’s leaders assigned those they wanted to dispose of to the army. But there was always massive celebrations of the soldiers. Names engraved permanently into mountains, so that they might be remembered for all time. If the rumors were true, someone would surely have been made into a martyr by now…

“Maybe I should just turn the northern desert into a great ocean. One filled with maelstroms and sea monsters that would keep any from even thinking about trying to cross it. Argh. Except there are probably things living there! I could move them, but upending lives just to keep your irritating little nation isolated…” She reached up and rubbed a hand through her hair, back and forth, sending strands of hair flying every which way. All of which had those pre-afterimages whipping about in strange directions—even through her head. “This was much easier before I had unlimited power. I could just ignore everything too troublesome because there was nothing I could realistically do about the situations.”

He couldn’t even concentrate on her words. The way her hair was moving… Bercilak leaned forward and heaved. There wasn’t much in his stomach, thankfully. But what little there was went all over the floor.

The woman just wrinkled her nose. With that little action, Bercilak felt himself suddenly upright once again. The small mess on his cot and floor was gone. Not only was it gone, but it looked cleaner than ever. The walls lost the streaks of mold and grime. The fungus growing in the corner of the room simply vanished. The stone floor looked like it had gone through hours of polishing that he suspected only the Pharaoh’s personal chambers would normally receive. Even the bars gleamed as if they were fresh from a smithy who wanted to charge far more for them than they were worth.

And the bowl of slop was gone. Completely. New food had taken its place. An ornate dish of meat, cheeses, breads, and even what looked to be a small goblet of wine.

“Talk to me for a bit and I’ll see about getting you decent food on occasion. Assuming your behavior is good, anyway.”

His eyes flicked back up, not that he actually needed to look at her to… look at her. She hadn’t moved. Her hand was even still up near her hair. Thankfully, she slowly lowered it to her side without any further tussling. Her hair was still settling from when she moved it, but by focusing on her nose, Bercilak found himself far less nauseous.

“Why do you need to talk?” Bercilak said, voice a little shakier than he would have liked. “If you can do all… If you can actually turn the desert into an ocean—”

“I can. I had to fill in a big huge hole and get rid of a bunch of pyroclastic clouds that were threatening a small village. It was… surprisingly easy.”

“Then I assume you can just make everyone stop fighting. Snap your fingers and end hostilities. Or are you not as powerful as you think you are?”

“Oh I am. I thought about doing just that, but it seems immoral. Mind controlling people, or whatever. It is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Like, is it more or less moral to force everyone to dance to my tune even if it means ending wars? I really am not sure. There are obviously some atrocious people out there committing some pretty horrible atrocities that the universe would probably be better off without, but can I really be judge, jury, and executioner? I really doubt anyone else could do a better job, but I still feel like I need some counsel.

“I tried asking Tenebrael, but she just said to kill everyone in your nation if they bothered me so much. Angels,” she said with a shrug.

“I still don’t understand why you are asking me.” Bercilak didn’t understand much of anything that had happened in the last few minutes. At the moment, he was just trying to…

He wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to do. Stay alive? Maybe not even that, but rather to simply avoid death in the name of Tenebrael. Yet here was someone claiming to be stronger than her. He, and the vast majority of the Juno Federation, did not believe that Tenebrael was the god that her doctors of divinity claimed she was. It could be proved that she existed, but merely as a monster that consumed the souls of her worshipers, not as any kind of deity.

Which was why it was important to wipe her name from the annals of history. No worshipers meant no souls.

Or so the leaders of his diocese believed.

But, at this point, it was likely all worthless. Tenebrael’s avatar, this monster taking the guise of a human…

A sense of despair gripped Bercilak’s heart. A sudden lethargy pulled him down as the utterly futile nature of the situation became clear. There was no escape for him. Looking down at the changed meal… the cleaned room… the fresh blankets on his cot… His fingers bit into the fabric. It was soft. Real. Not just an illusion. The monster had completely changed the room without even moving. Without even seeming to think about it.

There would be no escape for anyone.

Something in his countenance must have been recognizable even to the monster before him, for it quirked its lips to a frown. “Wow. You are really… I don’t even know how to begin convincing you that I’m not what you think I am.”

He wanted it to just… leave. To flee into the night, leaving him to his wretched fate. For even if this thing wasn’t about to slaughter him and take his soul, there was still no escape. He would be trapped behind the bars in his cell, trapped to the whims of the Lyrian royals, trapped in this mental anguish… forevermore.

“Oh!” The thing said, smiling with all the seeming of a creature that couldn’t comprehend human fear. “That is a good idea. Trapped. Yes. It should be possible to redirect reality to such a degree that nobody in your nation will actually be able to leave it. That will buy time for the years and years of change required among your people to grow less hostile toward those with different beliefs. I’ll have the Guardians start poking and prodding, looking around for future leaders that won’t be so… well, like the current leaders. Nudging the direction of the future doesn’t count as mind control, does it?”

“Begone. Please.” Bercilak tried to turn away.

This time, however, it worked. He found himself staring at the wall. There was no creature in his periphery. With no small amount of dread, he looked back, only to find nothing at all. Just an empty hall outside the bars of his cell. Could… Could it all have been his imagination?

No. The room was still changed. The floor was clean and tidy and the meal…

Was it poisoned? Did he dare try eating it?

He had to. The guards might not notice the cleanliness of the room. But they would certainly notice an entirely different meal. If they did, they would surely start questioning him once again, asking who brought him the far nicer meal. He didn’t know that he could take another round of questioning. Especially not when the subject of the questions was that monster.

If he could just slam his head against the wall and forget the last several minutes…

Tempting, but not likely to work.

Even knowing he had to get up, Bercilak found himself unable to move. It took at least an hour to muster the willpower required to slink across the floor to the platter on the floor. It smelled good. The meat and bread were fresh and still hot, even long after the monster had left…

Maybe it would be poisoned. He almost hoped so, thinking that with a laugh he couldn’t quite stop from escaping his lips.

It wasn’t. But it was delicious.

If only the visage of that abomination would leave the periphery of his vision.

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