The Lifeless Light: A Tale from Dema

Chapter Thirteen: The Monsters Within Us

I found the one thread of my past that Vialism could suppress, but never erase—and it unraveled the answers I longed so desperately for. This world was a creation, a riddle, which needed to be solved by myself alone. After all, everything I looked upon, from the vibrant, crisp greenery of Trench, to the hundreds of people warring in the necropolis, to the nine towers that loomed over this broken place—it was all a colorful, abstract piece of my own mind.

Every soul I looked upon was my hope, the very essence of why I wouldn't give up on the dismal existence I was sentenced too. That is why, even destroyed, their ashes shined for me, and why Vialism fought to oppress and capsulate them.

Amid the chaos and noise of battle, I peered around to find a red figure deflecting the attack of a Bandito. I ran to him as if the entire world depended on it ... indeed, it did.

Keons dodged the hits until he was able to temporarily debilitate his adversary. With a cry, the green-cloaked rival fell to the ground reeling and grasping his shoulder. I was then able to grab his attention.

"The gravestones!" I shouted with wild eyes.

The old man looked at me as if I'd gone mad.

"The ashes!" my voice cracked with intensity. "They need to be released—it's the only thing that will reverse Vialism!"

He contested, out of breath, "You're not suggesting we—"

Before he could finish the sentence, I swung my bat and shattered the rods before us. With a loud crash, the glowing particles dispersed and swirled through the air.

It visibly pained him to see his handiwork destroyed in one violent swoop, but he understood what I was planning.

"All of them," I emphasized. "Every single one. It's the only way to stop this."

I hadn't yet acknowledged the uncertainty that darkened his face. His frame drooped in weakness. I had never seen him so shaken. Studying him closer, I noticed flecks of amber in his eyes. He struggled with something I could not see.

"I will tell the others," his voice quivered in an unusual, hoarse tone. "And I will try to help ... for as long as I can."

I nodded with an earnest smile, only wishing I could express all my gratitude from the past few months in a greater form—but there was no time.

I dashed from one marker to the next smashing every glass prison I could find, while keeping an eye on any threat of opposition. My path across the field of slate, now broken and chipped from a beating of metal weaponry, was erratic as I dodged those who took notice of my endeavor. While I could swing a bat at a delicate, non-threatening piece of glass, a skilled combatant would surely be my downfall. This concern kept me on my toes as I rushed amid the madness.

Soon, as Keons word spread and multiplied amongst the civilians, brittle shards covered a good portion of the cracked ground. After all, if a bishop deemed it sound, there was no reason to argue with him, especially in such a dire time.

Every minute that passed, more iridescent particles drifted over the necropolis, gathering several feet above our heads. Together, they shined with the power of a dozen floodlights, intense and luminous—but individually, they gleamed like suspended stars. As I glanced up at them, they began to remind me of a different glow.

In my memory, I recalled a sea of dancing lights amid a vast darkened room. I heard an electric symphony of cheers and shouts. All of those lights, and their guardians, were facing me—and I struggled to hold back tears.

I remember the sight on multiple occasions, along with strobing flashes and blinding beams. I could tell all of those memories rested in the world outside of the one I had been mired in for far too long. They brought an unusual ache of loss I hadn't felt in a long time.