A Century Later
I ran from war. It has chased me.
The enemy changed. The acts have not.
Blood, regardless of its color, makes rivers in the soil. “They will kill each other before we can build an army,” I tell Erevan.
He stands as steady as a ship’s mast, holding me together in these troubled waters.
Death surrounds us, so much so that the gold of his clothing has taken on a darker hue. “They will change,” he murmurs, leaning closer to me.
I feel no comfort.
“It takes time. Power is feral at first. But it can be tamed, Amariel. Remember the wars we fought. War makes us respect and honor peace. These people are just figuring this out. They still use horses to ride into battle. And look at humans; they use candles to light their homes. Progression takes time,” he declares as he looks at what his new creatures have done.
Bodies lay twisted and deformed, creating a roadmap neither of us wants to venture across.
The humans of this world lie dead, their skin turning to rot as the vultures above circle to feast. We don’t have birds like this back home. They are a sight I wish to vanquish from my memory.
Erevan made his new creatures slightly different; this way, when we return with an army, they won’t all share the same weakness.
“Many vampires died this time. See,”—Erevan points to a dead one—“the humans are getting stronger. Remember when no vampires lay dead? Humans are learning to defend themselves. In time, the vampires will be forced to acknowledge this. Eventually, they will have to seek peace.”
Vampires fuel their magic through human blood. Erevan thought this would help them respect humans. Instead, they sought to enslave them. He also designed them to release pleasure or pain when they feed. It’s his way of judging their character. Sadly, many vampires enjoy pain.
Erevan sees the glass half full, but I broke the glass. I see only the mistakes that spill out and stain my hands. “Eventually is time’s greatest rival, Erevan. I fear it will win before time can correct the mistakes.”
I pay my respects and glance at the dead vampire. He’s as pale as the single moon in the sky.
How I miss our moons.
I find vampires most unsettling; their fangs resemble the elves. It’s wrong of me to compare them, of course. I’m trying hard to distinguish between the two. We cared for the elves; fed and loved them, yet they killed us in the end.
Four other gods came here, making our total six, but the god I lusted for the most never walked through the portal, a fact which makes my heart ache even now.
Don’t think of Lucian. Don’t break.
The six of us agreed on a new tactic. Allowing these people to make their own kingdoms and laws.
We want them to make mistakes, so they can understand our hardships.
In time, we will make ourselves known. The Gods who are here want to be shadows, that watch over their children, in hopes they will follow our traditions, and defend Attkris.
Hopefully, when the time comes, these creatures will realize they need shadows to protect them from the sun’s heat.
“The mages and fae ceased fighting.” Erevan’s statement lands flat, despite the hope in his words.
“That’s because they each need rest to fuel their magic. Rest has given them time to plot peace.”
Each new creature has a flaw that limits its magic.
Vampires need blood, mages and fae need rest, shifters need a full moon, and so on.
Erevan had to ration his magic with each new creation, but now, after creating so many, his power has entered a state of dormancy.
We knew this would happen; we planned and made friends to help protect him in this vulnerable state.
A huge shadow blankets the sun, making us glance up. A magnificent sapphire dragon circles overhead. The sun reflects off its hard scales, casting blue rays like the calm ocean waters.
Dragons are another of Erevan’s creatures.
Unfortunately, the creatures became too wild.
I helped Erevan correct that by making dragon riders, a rare group of humans that can connect with the stunning animals with the help of a rune I drew in a book Erevan made for me.
It wasn’t the first gift he gave me since we arrived, but it is the most powerful and precious.
“They sent scouts.” Erevan’s mouth tugs up. He’d never admit it, but the dragon riders are his favorite. The riders have been the most well-behaved of his creations, which is such a juxtaposition since they ride the biggest beasts that roam these lands.
They are seen as the peacemakers and enforcers when needed. However, their numbers are small, so they mainly keep to themselves. We can relate to that fear.
“He’s spotted us,” I reply with a sigh.
Dragons can see us, no matter how well we veil ourselves, and since they can communicate with their riders, hiding from them is impossible. Consequently, Erevan and I conveyed much information to the riders and dragons.
But not everything. Our purpose here remains undisclosed. I don’t feel guilty about the lie. Like any parent, we are merely trying to protect our children until they reach maturity.
The dragons and their riders know we are different; some of them whisper that we are the gods who brought magic to these lands. Perhaps that’s why they want our favor. At least they have an inkling of knowledge of the truth.
Slowly, the dragon begins to descend. Looking down, I study another fallen human warrior for a long time. My heart aches.
“I need to help them. All of them. They fight for power, but what they lust for is safety,” I admit. The original seed of guilt in my stomach has turned into a lush forest with deadly plants. I feel their thorns every time they spread.
“These things take time.” Erevan gently pushes my hair off my shoulder.
“I understand that, but I cannot turn a blind eye to this. What good is an army if they hate each other? They must be equal.”
“My magic still slumbers, but when it awakens, I can try to alter things,” Erevan offers. His originals increased in number, producing offspring. Each new generation possesses stronger magic.
Then there are the demigods whom we kept hidden until this world finds peace.
“No, that’s not what I mean,” I say as I lead us out of the battlefield.
“We must leave some humans untouched. It’s cruel if we erase them, but that doesn’t mean we can’t help them.
Give them a chance to fight back with equal power.
Respect and fear are necessary for peace.
Our new creatures need to learn they are not the most formidable monsters in these lands. ”
“Are you suggesting we reveal ourselves?” he asks cautiously.
Before I can reply, the ground shakes. The dragon lands in the small open space between the battlefield and the forest. The rider begins to make his way to us. His armor matches his dragon, making for perfect camouflage when he is on the beast’s back.
As he comes closer, he removes his helmet and dips his chin in respect. “Erevan. Amariel.” He bows, proving our assumptions are correct: they think we are gods.
“Rider,” Erevan replies. He looks at the dragon and nods. It purrs back a compliment.
“The humans are marching back to reclaim their dead. But another vampire squadron lurks in the forest four miles south. I believe they plan to ambush the humans again,” the rider informs us.
How can I help these humans? What can I forge for them that will make them as strong as Erevan’s creatures? What can my hands create that will make them all equal, so the fighting stops? I press my palm to my stomach. Erevan steps closer, as if he can shield me from my inner pain.
“We can burn away their path,” the rider offers.
“I think that is wise,” Erevan agrees. We’ve been using the riders as a means of intervention. “There has been enough death for today.” He reaches for my hand. I link our fingers, fearing that if I don’t, my soul will be set adrift, bound to float endlessly with the countless dead that surround me.
The rider nods and then returns to his dragon. Erevan watches with pride as the huge beast launches into the air.
“Their hearts are pure,” he says softly. “The others will learn in time to be like the dragons and their riders.” He’s correct; animals sense what humans can’t. I think the dragons know it is Erevan who created them.
“What if they continue to fight until only the dragon riders are left? They alone can not be the army we seek,” I voice.
Erevan rubs the back of his neck, hesitating.
I press on. “Dragon riders are still technically human. The rune I made bonds them and enhances them, but their core is human. Riders are chosen, not born.” A memory of the fire of my forge presses into my skin; sweat beads on my brow.
I will not build a forge again, but that doesn’t mean I can’t create something to help everyone. “I have an idea.”
We travel back to the home we made here on Panthas.
A safe place only the dragon riders can reach.
The fae below do not know that this mountain, which blankets the land to the west in darkness, has been claimed by the gods.
The fae have established two ruling courts.
This mountain separates the Day Court from the Night Court.
I race up the last steps we carved into the mountain, past the near invisible veiled walls of our home.
If you didn’t look at the stars, you’d think you were in Attkris, in Silas’s lands to be exact.
Famed for his crystal walls, which are made of his veil magic.
Walls the elves could peer right in. His kingdom was one of the first to be abandon. There was nowhere for Silas to hide.
We each had tasks when we arrived on Panthas. Erevan’s was to make creatures. Silas’s was to build our homes. The location we picked was tactical. The top of a cloudy mountain no human had dared to climb.