The Warlord

Chapter 49: Calthius

I open my eyes to a blue sky. When I sit up, I am surprised to find myself resting on a bed. As I look around, I realize that I am not quite in a room. There are no walls or windows, only sand-colored arches adorned with curling vines and rustic cracks. I can see clusters of tall oak trees, as well as sparkling water gushing out of several fountains. But when I get off the bed, I cannot feel the granite tiles beneath my feet; in fact, I cannot feel anything at all except for my touch against my own skin.

Then I look down at my fingers and almost scream from fright. My whole entire body is slightly transparent, like I am made out of tinted glass rather than flesh and bone and blood. What is happening? I open my mouth to call for the witchling and the familiar, but no sound comes out. When I try slamming my fist against a pillar to create some sort of noise, I feel and hear nothing at all. In a panic, I scramble away from the bed and race towards a nearby fountain. Surely, there are people in this strange, otherworldly place. Surely, I can find my way out of here if I have help.

I feel as if I am racing on a cloud, as if I am flying in midair; my feet do not feel the stubbly ground underneath them. As I reach the fountain and attempt to lean against it, I see a figure emerge from behind a shaded arch. It is a woman with brown, wavy hair that gleams like river water over mud. Wisps of curling, white magic circle her, making the outline of a gossamer-like gown that flows around her body. She walks with the ease of a summer's breeze and twirls over the granite tiles, dancing to nothing but the tune of leaves in the air.

Entranced, I stumble towards her with both hesitance and eagerness, for she is like a star; so captivating and brilliant that I am afraid I will burst into flames if I get too close. But when I try to rest my hand on her shoulder, my finger tips fall right through. I try again, and once more, she is like the air itself; I cannot touch her. I open my mouth and attempt to shout, to scream, to cry out, but nothing happens. Instead, the woman continues to dance, completely unaware of my presence.

"Harmony! Is that you?"

I turn my head at the sound of the voice, and see another woman walking towards us from beneath the shade of a cluster of trees. Her gown flows from her shoulders and her collarbone, shifting and pooling around her like a bursts of white water. She holds out her arms, and the woman that was just dancing – Harmony – rushes past me to embrace her.

Harmony says something joyously in a foreign tongue, and then, "You're here!"

"Please, Harmony, that is not my title anymore. I am Good now, after the crowning ceremony. I am finally a full-fledged Primordial, just like you."

The word rings in my head, and I almost trip over myself as sudden vertigo fills my head. Primordial. Primordial. How did I not realize it before, when Good first called Harmony by her name? This is the Primordial Heaven, and I am a spectator of the past, one who is simply watching events play out with no control over the outcome. Harmony did not acknowledge my presence because I was not there at all; I am existing in a state of nonexistence. Is this a vision, then? A glimpse of the past? Oracle gods are a rare and failing breed, but my mother told me tales of how, when they were stronger, they would induce visions upon their clients. Perhaps I have been saved. Perhaps an oracle god is helping me. Observe, Calthius. There must be a meaning to this vision.

"You will always be Lucerna Angelica to me, Good. Angelic candle, my little light." Harmony wraps her up in a tender, sisterly embrace.

"Oh please, Harmony. We must find Mischief and Evil to tell them the good news!" Good pulls away, her face glowing with pride and youth. She takes Harmony's hand in hers and starts to pull her away from the fountain.

"Are you still avoiding my husband?" Harmony giggles behind closed lips and fingers. "It has to have been a millennia since that incident happened. Surely you can forgive him?"

Harmony's husband... Chaos. I race to catch up with the two figures, who are now ten paces away when they have only taken three. Magic leaks out of them with every breath, every smile, every twirl. If my real body were here, I would not doubt be smothered underneath their sheer might. But instead their magic passes through me like streams of colorful ribbons, harmlessly flapping in the wind.

Good turns back to look at Harmony, and the youthful glow is gone. Her face is now harsh and stark with coldness, even though her smile is still as bright as the sun. "Love is not such a trivial matter, Harmony. Sanguinem Lapis made up his mind that day when he killed him, and I refuse to give him anything less than he deserves for doing that."

Harmony falls quiet, and their pace slows to a dragging walk. Good lets Harmony's fingers dangle from the tips of her own before dropping her hand completely. They walk along in silence underneath a grove of trees, their conversation dull and dead like a bird with a cracked neck. I can feel raw emotion crackling in the air, split open and tingling as if it were a freshly made wound. It reminds me too much of the cold, pale walls in that palace.

"Lucerna! Is that you?" Someone calls out from up ahead, and I step past Harmony and Good to get a better view. Two figures sit at the base of what seems to be a thousand steps. They stretch on for miles, going so high that they touch and fade into the clouds. A full frontal display of wealth and power. It slaps me in the face with its audacity, leaving a hot, red mark.

"Evil! Mischief! It's not Lucerna anymore, or Lucerna Angelica! I'm a full-fledged Primordial!" Good races towards the two figures, dress billowing behind her, arms outstretched.

She tumbles into them, hugging them tight and then laughing as Evil says something witty. They converse for another second, and then all three rise and look towards the steps. In the blink of an eye, they shimmer and disappear. I reach out and open my mouth out of instinct. Where did they go?

"That is not of your concern, Daimus." Harmony speaks up, and I ignore her, thinking she is talking to someone else. "Daimus, I know you are there. Turn your head." I do so, expecting to find her talking to a docile pet or a child. But instead her two eyes are fixed on me. I step out of her line of sight and turn, trying to see what she is looking at. "Daimus, why do you not listen?" She sighs. "Perhaps you are not even here. Perhaps the spell did not work."

Slowly, I raise a hand and wave it in front of her face, my fingers trembling. Are you... Are you talking to me?

"Stop that, Daimus." She whips her hand through the air as if she is swatting mine away, even though her flesh goes right through me. "So you really are here after all." Harmony turns to face me, beaming with the same jubilance and tenderness that she had when she embraced Good. "You must listen to me, Daimus. I am only an apparition, a message coded into the magic that I used to bring you here. I cannot change the past anymore than you can, but I must warn you: the fall of the Primordials was just the start." She pauses and squints at something in the distance over my shoulder. I follow her gaze, but I see nothing but more arches and fountains. "I must speed up the course of the spell. Quickly, follow me." Harmony points a finger in front of her, and a dark hole opens up, eating away at the threads of reality. She does not look back as she runs into the darkness, completely disappearing from sight. I hesitate, but when I see the hole starting to shrink, I leap in after her.