From the Ruins We Rise

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The history of Larok-Son-Son-Death, told with his own words.

Fantasy / Thriller
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

I looked directly at his eyes, eyes of the color grey surrounded by a blue fire ball. Then I looked at his hair, black as a coal mine, but still astoundingly smooth. Then I looked at his smile, a smile hidden by the shadow of his hood, only expressed by the curved tip of his lips.

Terrified, I ducked down to the floor. Still I could see his slender shadow approaching towards me. That shadow wore a cloak, along cloak with no shorts. That shadow also had a sword at his hand, a sword I totally remember, my grandfather’s pin pointed blue sword sheathed with in a back scabbard. I blinked my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them again, of course, the swords tip was at my throat.

“Hi, there!” like an echo spread through a tunnel, my brothers voice trembled through my ears.

My grandfather, the starter of the cause, used to say; “When you came out of your mother’s womb, you cried. You cried, because deep down you knew the gods sent you to a world of dust and pain. But one day, when you find a sword’s tip put right on your throat, remember to smile. Smile, because deep down you should know you’re going to another world of light and justice, your grave.”

When I felt the sword threatening to pierce deeper, I remembered that I should smile, but I didn’t. yes, I didn’t smile!

Who am I to smile? Is a person who killed the starter of the cause and the high priest allowed to smile? Is a person who almost took the whole Kavinar for his own greed allowed to smile? Is the slave of death allowed to smile? Is the bad guy allowed to smile? And most of all, is a person who hates himself more than anything allowed to smile?

“I thought you always swore you’ll smile at the face of life”, said the protector of the cause.

“I don’t see life around here, protector, do you?”

My reply got a hint of a smile, which faded as quickly as it came.

My tutors have taught me exactly what to do when I find a sword bellow my chin. However, all those trainings fade away, conquered by fear, when you see that the sword is a color of deep blue. Blue, the color of renaissance, the indicator of the cause, the core point of civilization, and the symbol of the goddess of life, Vinar, displayed by the sky.

For those who are from the gods, the word ‘life’ might be the first thing they want to hear when they wake up from a good sleep. However, for those of us who are from death itself, life is the word of destruction, the end of eternity. So is time.

“You really believed you could run away, didn’t you?” the smile came back on Talbot’s face. “I think, now, you can see what you misunderstood all this way, Larok-son-son-Death, Kavinar is only for those from the gods.”

“Gods that don’t exist!” I corrected him.

The smile faded away, again. “You people say gods don’t exist. If that is so, why do you worship death? You must know, worshiping is a thing of the gods.”

I nearly moved my lips to give a reply. But what is the point in arguing on the same thing all of Kavinar has been arguing on forever, and when he is destined to kill me and I him?

From the fire we praise,

From the ruins we rise,

O! Vinar civilized of the stars,

Pick us up with your palms,

And let there be life on us.

I recited the song that caused all of this. No! It was not the song! There was something wrong back there, when I emerged from the Hall of Vinar. That when was the when where everything started, ten years ago, back when I was alive.


From the fire we praise,

From the ruins we rise,

O! Vinar civilized of the stars,

Pick us up with your palms,

And let there be life on us.

An unforced smile emerged from my lips as I walked out of the Hall of Vinar. By then, I was sure that I did it.

How could you forget a song you have been reciting for your whole life?, I remember asking myself. Never, you’ll never forget it.

Even as I began descending the steps, I continued chanting the Song of Life with in my head.

From the fire we praise,

From the ruins we rise,

O! Vinar civilized of the stars,

Pick us up with your palms,

And let there be life on us.

When I finished the steps, I directly went to my spot and turned my face towards the doors of the hall. All I could see was the high priest, who stood with his eyes closed, listening to the words the gods got to say about me. I waited for eternity, standing still, trying to hide my excitement from all the eyes on me.

Years after eternity, the high priest opened his eyes, and then, his mouth. That was the moment I have been waiting for all my life. That is why I remember imagining the words that would come out that a-little-opened mouth.

‘Today, the gods present us the mighty Larok-son-son-Life, protector of the cause, and beloved of our almighty goddess, Vinar.’

But those words never came. Instead, that mouth closed as fast as it was opened, and the hands of the high priest pointed towards me.

“Seize him!”

The guards, who were supposed to carry my throne, me sitting on it, took my hands and roped them. The people, who were supposed to cheer for me, threw curses and stones at me. The high priest, who was supposed to announce my coronation, with his high pitched voice, announced my banishment.

“Today, the gods cursed us. We forced them to become mad at us by allowing the entrance of Larok-son-son-Death, destructor of the cause. To amend our mistake, we must fulfill the will of our gods.” The high priest, suddenly, raised his voice. “Let the sacrifice begin!”

I don’t remember much about what happened after, but I do remember shouting towards the high priest, telling him that I recited the Song of Life correctly. When I got no reply, I sang the song out loud, loud enough to be heard over the shouts of those children being sacrificed to amend my mistake. Despite my shouts and the cries of the children being sacrificed, the high priest still did nothing.

As I was being carried out of the assembly, I got a glimpse of my grandfather, the starter of the cause, and the high priest, whose name I always forget, standing together, looking straight at my eyes. There was… There was something in their look that told me everything was not about the song. A little something, but still, it was definitely there.

Yes, I said it! It was not about the song or the gods. I, at least, think it wasn’t about the song.

Of course, I don’t remember much about what happened after, but I do remember thinking that there was something wrong, reciting the same song out loud, again and again, alone in my ice-cold cell , trying to convince myself that it was not my fault, but my tutors’, and crying until my tears dried out, and my eyes, in turn, started bleeding.

Oh! How I remember that blood, the blood of those children sacrificed because of my mistake!

Even if I say I don’t remember much about that night, I know I do. However, not a single memory of mine tells me that I was thinking about what I just became that night. It really didn’t matter at that time, but as the years pass by, I came to think about it a lot. Still, I didn’t manage to gasp even a little note about my identity for a long time. Who would have been able to grasp the concept of becoming the slave of death in just years?

I still do hear that voice of desperate souls:

‘Hail for Larok-son-son-Death, destructor of the cause, ruler of the ice. And here he comes, to rule all of Kavinar.’

I even hear it when I’m dead.

(to be continued)

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