Inheritance of Vigour, page 50
Vanille stomped her foot behind Azure, but she ignored the girl and focussed on the pack. “Brother. You’ve only been alive for a few hours and you’re already complaining about my tastes! This is just like what Veyor warned us about!”
“Ha! He couldn’t help himself in the end. Despite how he claimed he wouldn’t look, he still tried to see what would happen to us after…”
Pain flashed in Azure’s heart, and she crushed the emotion. She wouldn’t feel—couldn’t feel. Instead, she focussed on the small chest her fingers found at the bottom of the pack. When she pulled the chest out, she frowned. She didn’t recognise it, but Veyor had kept many secrets from her.
“What’s that chest?” Riti asked.
Azure ignored her and opened the lid, revealing a stack of letters. Names marked each letter, not that Azure recognised them. She shuffled through the letters, moving the ones marked ‘Wy’ and ‘Alia’ aside to find one with her name. She recognised the handwriting, and Azure’s heart squeezed again.
Reverently, she lifted the letter. But just as she thumbed it open, she hesitated. Riti laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and nodded encouragingly. With a deep breath, Azure unfolded the sheet of paper.
“Azure, my friend,” the letter read. “I know this is no consolation or even fair remuneration for all I owe you, but it will have to suffice. I can only hope you read this one day. Despite how everyone in Dendren reveres the Paths and believes them omniscient, I know the truth. The future isn’t set in stone. Anything can change. What is the future, but the sum of our actions?
I know this may seem like ramblings from beyond the grave, but I must explain everyone. I don’t know how much I’ll tell you after writing this. To put it simply, I was born a Chosen of Chron, a long-forgotten god who drove himself mad when he stared too deeply into the future. His Blessing lets me see what he saw—futures, both likely and nigh impossible. I used this Blessing to steer the world along a certain Path, much to the disgust of every other immortal denizen of our world. Well, most.
Oh, did I ever mention my immortality? Or its origins? If I didn’t, I will trust myself and leave that pain to fade with my life. We both know some things are best left in the past. To stop myself from rambling and needing to rewrite this yet again, I shall come to the point. I have answers you need to hear, and I hope you’ll hate me for them. That shall make my passing easier to stomach.
First. Yes, I could have saved the Azure Sky. If I lied and told you otherwise, it was to manipulate you. I couldn’t have healed them—this Blessing is far more limited than it may seem. That I pulled off miracle after miracle with it is nothing but a testament to my ingenuity and special circumstances. Still, that’s beside the point.
I could have saved the Azure Sky if I’d warned you about the behem. I knew; for that, I apologise. Yet I do not regret my choice. Not even now.”
Azure rubbed at her eyes and scrunched the paper in her hands. Yet, she didn’t dare to stop reading.
“Second. You were pivotal to this Path. Not only were you my end, but your existence made so many things possible. I needed a link to Stratos. The old bird deserved his fate, in case you weren’t convinced. It may seem I treated you like a tool, but you were much more than that. You were and still are, as I write, but again, I cannot know the future (my apologies for the repetition of this joke, but you know me). You are a friend and as close to family as I have had since my adoptive parents died. I wish I could tell you about them around a campfire, but I fear I’ll never have the time.
Instead, know I learned you would kill me centuries ago. I knew I’d watch you pierce my heart happily. It long confounded me—how could I cherish my killer? Especially after knowing she’d do so for centuries. To answer that question is easy. Because it is you. Grouchy, quick-witted, swift-to-use-too-much-force-in-a-playful-punch, fun to tease you.
It would take more ink and paper than I have at hand to convey the love I felt for you, Azure. Know this; I, and every member of the Azure Sky, wish the best for you. Don’t you join us in whatever is beyond this life for as long as humanly possible—I stress the human part. I learned that ditching it can be a bit of a drag from time to time.
Back to the point, before I ramble on again. Time is important, but it isn’t infinite. Not for you, nor the gods of this world. Mortals perish with time and things change, but that isn’t what I mean. The Maw is unstoppable. I never found an answer to that problem when I manipulated Jaskier into unleashing it. It will roam Dendren and consume everything in its path. It may seem like I foretell the end of the world, but don’t ever believe that. I’d rather you don’t compare me to Chron’s insane ramblings.
Besides, it might not come to pass in your lifetime. The Maw is lazy and prone to flights of fancy—terrifying, isn’t it? To think something so gargantuan has a silly side? Regardless, I will leave the rest of my predictions unwritten. They are nothing but the ramblings of a husk fading with time. Best to leave things unseen; just glimpsing the Paths can change them.
Think instead of immediate problems. The mist walkers. The Maw will mean nothing if you can’t deal with them before they spread. I believe you know this and I also believe you understand this isn’t your problem. At least, not yours alone. It is the world’s, every creature’s. I apologise for this, but I doubt you all are up to the task.
Perhaps this gloom is unfair, given how you can’t argue back. My pessimism aside, I hope. I don’t know what the future holds for you; I don’t want to know. It’s yours to carve. Regardless, let us disperse with melancholy and continue to brighter things—even if it is only the end to this abysmal letter.
The last thing I ask of you—and I know it’s not fair—but hear my request. Protect them. The twins. I tried my best, what little it was worth, but they have much to learn about the world. I hope Riti is nearby—she is better suited to the caring big sister role than you, I’m afraid. Now, don’t make that face (I assume you are glaring at this letter).”
Azure shook her head. She couldn’t summon a hint of anger.
“It’s the truth, and we both know it. Instead, be their protector for as long as they need it. The stern hand who has no issue scolding them for being idiots and putting themselves in danger. If they learnt anything from me, I promise you they’ll need it. I can see it now, Azure, and I don’t need the Paths to know you’ll enjoy that part. Even if you never admit it.
If there is one thing I hope you take away from this long-winded—or inked, I guess I should say—rambling, then it is that. Protect them, please.
That is all I can beg.
To finish, I ask for one more thing. Please hate me if it helps you. But if you cannot find it within yourself to do that. If by some miracle you find it impossible. Give yourself time. Think back on me, when you are old and grey and warming your bones before a fire. Then remember me fondly.
Do not think of the deceit. Think instead of the times we spent with the Azure Sky. Those were true. Think of travelling with the Moon and the Princess in search of the Eyes—a tale worthy of a song, perhaps, minstrel Azure. Think of me fondly, if you can.
That is what I selfishly hope for. If not, don’t worry. I’ll never know either way.
Farewell, my friend. Soar through Azure Skies and know they love you.
Veyor.”
Tears flooded down Azure’s cheeks. They weren’t tears of sadness—or any emotion. She just couldn’t stop crying. Riti enveloped her in a warm hug and Azure crumbled into the embrace. Slowly, Vanille and Vellin joined them with matching tears.
I don’t know what the future holds, Azure thought. Just like how Veyor joked in his letter… But I need time. A lot.
EPILOGUE
Prince stepped through the ruins of the city. Lenug, they called it. An impenetrable mist enshrouded the fallen city, blocking the stars and moon. Fires raged through the occasional stone building, eating its wooden insides like his brethren did the fallen. Dark stains marred the beautiful white stone buildings; they looked like strange blotches at the edge of his weak vision. Bodies littered the streets in the thousands, if not more. Most were prey, but some few were not. Too many. Not even the metallic scent of death surrounding Prince could ease his anger at that.
The clothed figures of his closest aides surrounded Prince. Most had switched from their torn rags, gathered from earlier hunts, to finer clothes looted from the city. The pants couldn’t reach the bottom of their long legs, and the shirts hung off their gaunt frames in an unflattering fashion. Still, it was better than what they had before. Especially when compared to their brethren who hunted with nothing but their flesh against the elements.
“This way, Prince,” an aide said. He gestured to two waiting mist walkers. These wore nothing and hunched dramatically as he approached in an approximation of a bow. “It was these two who ate the most of the winged goddess’ flesh.”
Prince stepped up to the pair, and they hunched deeper to meet his eye level. As he lifted his hand, Prince summoned his mist. It swirled around the first mist walker and he lifted his hand to the figure’s neck. The mist thickened like grasping hands until it obscured the mist walker from view. Prince felt a shift in his essence and waved sharply at the mist. It dispersed, leaving nothing where the mist walker once stood. Then he turned to the second figure and repeated the process.
Once he had devoured the pair, Prince felt pain flare in his core. A ravenous hunger echoed through his bones and change shifted his body. Instinctively, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He needed more. More. Prince glanced down the gory street and narrowed his eyes to sharpen his weak vision. “Is it over there?”
“Yes, Prince.”
Prince stepped over the bodies in his way and crossed the street until it came into view. An orb of white feathers floating in the street. Two clothed aides stood guard beside the orb, keeping vigilant ears for the surrounding mist walkers. Prince’s brethren salivated at the thought of tearing into the orb, but they knew better than to disobey his orders.
“Argh!” Screams echoed from deeper in the city, but the faint buzzing meant nothing to Prince. A few mist walkers turned at the noise and Prince waved them away with a snap of his fingers. Though they couldn’t see the gesture, they felt his intent and lurched towards the noise happily.
My people shall not go hungry this night, Prince thought. That is good.
Prince approached the floating orb, and mist swirled around him. It came from the thick shroud clinging to the city and from Prince himself. His hunger sharpened into a dagger and twisted in his gut. Drool spilled from Prince’s mouth and he reached a hand for the orb. The mist swirled around the orb, obscuring it from view.
As soon as he touched it, Prince felt the change shatter his frame. Pain seared his core, and he writhed in agony as his body rewrote itself. Slowly, grey wings sprouted from his back and mist-touched feathers ran up his neck. The pain cooled to the chill numbness that never left Prince and he sighed in its absence. But the gloom didn’t last. Power welled in Prince’s chest and he grinned.
As he spread his new wings wide, he felt his eyes shift. The blurred shapes at the edge of his vision sharpened, and he saw their details without stepping closer. That wasn’t all. Something flitted in his soul and Prince tugged at the feeling. Without a word, he stepped over the bodies littering the street and scanned the area. He ignored the dozens of bodies strewn in front of him. It wasn’t their lifeless eyes he sought, even if the detail he saw at a distance astounded him.
“There…” Prince’s eyes landed on a one-winged body. The tug on his soul felt almost tangible and Prince reached for it.
Slowly, the figure rose.
About the Author
Jacob Milkins grew up and lives in Gippsland, Victoria. He has loved being swept away into fantasy worlds ever since he was young, be it from novels or video games. Now he enjoys writing his own worlds and stories.
Jacob Milkins, Inheritance of Vigour
