Reality once more assailed him. Cronius found himself wandering as he had before, his traitorous feet, unbidden, bringing him at last to the place he had consciously avoided above all others. Her home. Once a beautiful villa renowned for the spectacular view of the ocean it overlooked, it was now only a twisted, blackened mockery of its former glory.
Some stubborn part of him had been certain it would be different with her, refused to believe the conflagration could be so heartless as to take not just the city he loved, but the woman as well. And yet it had. Once this pile of rubble had been a beautiful home. Once, this ash now drifting through the air had been the woman he loved.
Wracked with sobs, he threw himself at the pile of wreckage, forgetting even the magic as he ripped at the rubble barehanded in his forlorn desperation. Bloody fingers uncovered nothing but more broken, burnt furniture and debris.
As elsewhere in the city, there were no bodies, no remains to be mourned over. Nothing but ash. He would not even have the solace of committing her body to the stars. At last he collapsed to the ground, exhausted. She was gone.
If only he had listened to her. She had known his grand idea was pure folly, indeed she had questioned his plan at every turn. But he had been so sure! He had never even contemplated the thought of true failure. He, the great Arch Magus of Celestia, fail? The idea itself had been laughable.
Arrogance, nothing but foolish arrogance. He had killed her, along with every other soul he had known and loved.
His near vacant eyes drifted south, his gaze lingering over the ceaseless sea. He found his feet once more, and his steps led him down an overgrown dirt path, once so out of place in a city of cobbled marble streets, it was now one of the few paths unlittered with broken bits of building.
The path led him to a tiny beach of white sand, shimmering in the moonlight. He could remember a dozen days and nights shared with Shayle upon this shore, carefree and content. It had been their special, secret place. He fell to his knees in the soft sand, unable to contain the sobs which once more erupted from his throat. There was nothing left for him here. He sought to piece the tattered remnants of his mind, to formulate some plan to give his life meaning once more.
What was the use?
His eyes drifted to the sea. The endless waves ever crashing upon the shore seemed to beckon to him. He saw in their seductive blue-black flow peaceful, thoughtless oblivion. The thought would have been utterly abhorrent to him only hours before, but now seemed the only choice left to him.
He did not deserve to live, and, without her, he did not want to.
He found his feet and took a step forward, his mind made up, only to be distracted by a hint of flashing light far off in the night sky. He attempted to ignore it, but curiosity had always been his greatest weakness.
He whispered a word of magic, and the distant lights came instantly into focus. The lights flashed over a stretch of land still just visible on the horizon. His enhanced eyes squinted in thought, but still it took him a moment to realize what he was seeing. The Children, of course, fighting their never ending war.
He knew little of them. The Children, as they were known within Celestia, were a race apart. Though every bit as human as he was himself, they were rumored to be a savage and warlike people, perpetually squabbling for reasons the greatest scholars of the citadel were hard pressed to identify, a trait which earned them their name.
Their primitive form of magic rendered them almost harmless compared to a true wizard, but it was adequate for the only purpose they ever seemed to put it to: killing one another.
Cronius found himself shaking his head at the thought, sighing. More wasted lives and needless death. His gaze was once more drawn to the gentle crashing of the waves, but the flashing lights across the water again drew his attention. Unbidden, an idea began to form. Always before, the ruling council of the Citadel of Stars had forbidden any interference with the Children until such time as they moved beyond their petty warring ways.
Now, however, there was no ruling council left to forbid anything. What did he have left to lose? There was a chance he could put an end to the killing and force peace between the two factions. He could save thousands of lives, and maybe in some small way make up for the horrible tragedy he had unleashed upon his own people.
Perhaps he could find some measure of peace within himself. And perhaps, someday, he could find redemption.
He walked towards the ocean, words of power burgeoning from his lips. He did not slow as the water began to flow around his ankles. Moonlight streamed down, reflected amid the rolling waves. His tall silhouette seemed to coalesce with the surrounding darkness, wavering and growing transparent before reforming as a single silver mote of light, racing southward above the frothing waters. Towards the Isle of Children.
YOU ARE READING
The Longest Lament
Fantasy“A grizzled soldier at war with peace. A powerful wizard buried beneath the weight of failure. A street child with a knack for language, illusion, and mischief. A nobleman’s daughter unable to ignore the injustice all around. Two countries at war, t...
