Sapphire Waters Side Stories

The Lesson

Morryr closed the door behind himself, sealing out all traces of light. The young god was used to the room being dimly lit, but at the moment it rivaled the Hall of Omens in the Zellandelian temple for the depth of silky darkness. His eyes took in nothing as he cast them about the room, and he felt his other senses heighten to compensate.

A soft whisper- the sound of silk against silk- reached his ears as he fought to build an image of his surroundings without his sight. His exhalation and heart beat almost drown the sound out, but it was there. Again, the cloth rustled, accompanied by the catch of breath.

Morryr allowed himself a moment of confusion as he listened, poised to flee. Hell God Ishiot's office could easily become a place of acute embarrassment, and the youth would never have dreamed approach had the Hell God not sent an urgent message requesting his presence in this very room. Morryr shook his head, forcing thoughts of what could be happening from his mind. Surely his master would not be foolish enough to... There must be a logical solution.

Again, he focused on his senses. A gentle current of air caressed his right side, stirring his hair, and bringing with it the fresh scent of ice.The young god took a deeper breath, the odd balm tickling down until he felt he could taste it. He imagined his tongue toughing the frigid air current, but was distracted by the warmth of his own mouth. Allan illusion, and one he knew well.

Warmth brushed along his cheek, startling him from contemplation. He gasped, his lips parting slightly, as what could only be a thumb lighted over his cheek bone.Strong fingers tilted his head to the side, and a hot gush of air pressed against the curl of his ear.

He stood frozen, his thoughts racing in circles. The scent he sensed could not belong to the man- for man it was- who held him. His body cried out in confusion, and he reached up to grasp at his captor. Touch brought the feel of sturdy cotton, beneath which tightened muscles shifted as the man arched closer to him.

"Are you a human, to only have five senses?" the man whispered, his words bringing an abrupt stop to Morryr's light-headed spinning with their familiarity.

Closing his blinded eyes, Morryr relaxed in Ishiot's grip. Bypassing his humanesque senses, he focused on the powers that made him a god. The room became a strong image, painted in the decay of wood, fabric and stone. Without his sight to assure him of the solidity of his surroundings, he began to quake, and he focused on the one unchanging feature.

Morryr grasped at the cloth that covered Ishiot's chest with one hand. The Hell God was unaffected by the loosening of the young god's hold of his Death powers, and as such became Morryr's anchor to the physical. Untouched by aging, the Hell God appeared the same to all senses, a sturdy and powerful tower of support.

Ishiot's hold on Morryr shifted, his fingers sliding from the Death God's cheek. A warm breeze against his neck signaled the Hell God's movement, and Morryr felt his back pulled to his mentor's chest. The Hell God took his hands in his,releasing the one from its tight hold on his shirt, and Morryr's muscles stretched as his arms were pulled to the side.

"What do you see?" the Hell God questioned.

"Decay," he answered. "The curtains wither, the glass runs to the floor. The wood rots, and beneath us the floor is dissolving, worn away by time."

There was a pause, in which Morryr cringed from the sight he described. Before him, the solid oak, black upholstered chair that had served Ishiot for centuries was nothing but a pile of dirt until he look away, and upon returning would wither and fade again before his eyes.

"Is that all you see?"

Startled by the question, Morryr scanned the room again. His mind flickered through the demise of Ishiot's books, and desk, and the curtains flickered between whole and holey many times before the Death God finally found what did not fit.

Curled beneath the rotting remains of paperwork and stained wood lay a small kitten, shining with an odd, luminescent glow. It yawned, and stretched, then stood and studied the pair.

"No," Morryr finally answered.

Ishiot waited, and the young God did not let his master down. "There is a kitten. Why does it not die like everything else?"

"Because," Ishiot answered, "that kitten is not dying."

"Everything I see is dying,"Morryr responded.

"Death is a possibility for everything,but not everything is dying as we speak, Morryr," he chided.

"Master?" Morryr cringed at the rebuke, and listened, focused on the feel of the Hell God against his back. It was hard to force his sight back to blindness, but he did so as he waited for Ishiot's response.

"You may have power as a Death God, Morryr, but if you want to access to your strength, you need to learn to see beyond the death of your powers. The kitten is possibility incarnate, as are all living things." Ishiot abruptly released Morryr, and the young god felt lost as his chosen master stepped away and into the darkness. "If you cannot see what lives,you will fall into despair as all before you melts away. Do you wish to be unable to use your power, trapped forever in the void of feeling humans walk in?"

Morryr shook his head mutely.

"Then see, Morryr. Look death in the face, and see beyond it."

The young god once again opened himself to the full vision of his powers, and momentarily he was overwhelmed by the flood of destruction. He fought through vision after vision, until he once again focused on the small kitten. It now sat in the lap of the Hell God, idly licking a paw. Morryr approached the two, using his sight to navigate the rotting desk, and the stack of musty books beside Ishiot's chair. When he reached the two, he gently stroked the kitten's ear.

"Do you understand?" The Hell God asked.

"Yes, sir."

Morryr felt a small thrill as Ishiot smiled. "Excellent. You've always been a quick learner."

"I try my hardest to please," he responded.