God of Discovery [high fantasy, slow build, mlm]

Arc 3 - 8. God of Healing

It was not the first time it happened, D'Argen thought that in his other memories he had done it before, yet his new speed surprised him. He was fast enough to run on the shallow water between the islands where the music festival was happening and the mainland. He was fast enough that he felt like he was flying.

He was fast enough that the world faded away.

At first, he thought it was because he was moving so fast that he could not register the details around him. Then those details lost their colours and he panicked. He slid to a stop only to see their dark outlines fill again to become grass, and rocks, and houses in the distance. Then he remembered running fast enough that even those details got lost until he was in a space of just white.

With a look around him to make sure there was nobody he could hurt, he opened his mahee and ran once more. This time, there was no explosion of sound behind him, and he knew he was slower, yet the world still faded away. The thought was terrifying until he remembered how surprised he had been to see his own blue eyes reflected in his sword when he fell.

This time, when he slid to a stop, it was to admire the colours of the world around him.

If he was reliving the past, then it would be another few centuries before he was unable to see those colours again. If he was crazy and those other memories were nothing but an illusion... it would be safer to keep them in mind.

He crouched down and plucked a dandelion from the grass. Yellow was the first colour that faded away.

Even as he wanted to explore and admire it all, commit each shade and hue to a memory that was playing tricks on him, his feet itched and that moved into his blood like he was being stabbed by tiny needles. Or something similar. Something colder.

D'Argen opened his mahee once more to run, leaving a crater behind with his push.

Even though the fading colours terrified him, the whip of the wind as he ran through it shoved the fear away.

The world faded away once more but his mahee still reached for it. As he ran, he felt the rain falling from the sky and soaking the earth under his feet. The faster he was, the more it turned to sharp needles that stabbed him, though their pain quickly faded away.

When it softened, D'Argen thought it was snow. It made him smile and though he would usually shiver and avoid the colder regions, now he was looking forward to basking in the clean air.

That thought had him sliding to a stop once more and closing his eyes as he faced the sky.

The soft flakes that landed on his skin were large and heavy.

And warm.

When he registered the warmth, his eyes opened just in time to see a black flake land on his cheek. He turned away and brushed it off. His hand came away black and grey.

Then he registered the heat was not from the black flakes but from the flames not too far away. From their smoke. From their ashes as they fell on him.

He jogged closer to the flames until he could hear them and the shouting in their din.

Mortals. He opened his mahee, intent on saving those screaming for help. When he slid to a stop though, it was not to see mortals screaming and crying.

A group of them had a rope that they had looped around the statue of one of the gods and yanked hard. The statue trembled but did not shift. A few others chipped away at the stone of its feet. Others still were going around with torches and setting the wooden houses ablaze.

It looked like a raid and D'Argen first thought it was one, until he saw a young child throw something at one of the houses and yell in anger.

This was not mortals fighting mortals.