While the entourage was making its way farther from Origin, Veymos sat brooding in his chamber. It was dark besides the glow from the fireplace. He had no need for light; he could see fine without it. He was contemplating his future plans, even though his next move would be dependent on the outcome of Jodin’s mission. He had been explicit in his detail of what Jodin was to do with Deygo, but he had his doubts that the man would be able to capture his wayward servant. Hm, I suppose I do think of him as my servant, now, Veymos thought. Though he is proving to be more difficult to handle than I originally anticipated. Jodin will be a perfect test of strength… and loyalty, for both of them. We will see if Deygo still returns with Eris after he knows I intended to have him killed. He smirked a little at this. Veymos was confident he would end up with the woman in his possession eventually, one way or another. But now there seemed to be an added bonus. The rumors of the two foreigners intrigued him. He wished to learn more of their origins. Was there somewhere his master’s poison hadn’t reached? If so, he would have to take care of it.
He closed his eyes, his mind traveling to the past, his heart aching as he remembered his master, Alcibiades, whom he had followed so loyally. Veymos would have done anything for him; he would have died for him. Well, in a sense he did die for him. He remembered lying semi-comatose at his master’s feet, hearing Alci’s beautiful voice speaking enlightening words. So strong, so right.
“Who am I? Am I really me? Or could it be that I simply am? I no longer know. Everything around me has changed. I have changed it, and thus changed myself. I have lost my identity among the moldering pieces of this deathly ruin – my ruin, caused by my hand. Why did I do it? It seemed a good idea at the time. But now… I’m not so sure. Maybe the time will come when I will regret what I have done, maybe it already has. But this carnage is absolute. There is no way to make these bloody masses clean again, or these broken homes whole. It is gone. They are all gone because of… because of me, of what I’ve done.
My hands are red, covered in the blood of life. Permanently stained this crimson color, eternally marked as a… as killer’s hands. I know I am doomed. I must be, for if I’m not, whatever Being rules this world is crazier than I am.
What can be done to remedy this destruction? Nothing now. Only time can wear away the shattered pieces. Only in the future can life start again. What have I done? What have I… done?
It was not me! I swear by any light you wish me to that I could only watch. I could not control it. But may Death have mercy on my soul because… I enjoyed it.
Gah! What madness is it that consumes me to allow me to take such pleasure from this desolation? What evil is it that binds with my soul to give me joy in these deaths? It was the Dreams. That is the answer. The Dreams have come to me and they told me to make things new. To make things new means that things must die, right? ‘Out with the old, in with the new’? I have brought hope for a better future. I am the future.
By my hand this world has died and by my hand it will grow again. None shall oppose me, none to oppose me! I am triumph incarnate! Give me a battle and I will win! Show me a world and I will have the glory of it all! Victory is my bedfellow, Failure I know you not!
How I reveled as my hand slew body after body! What my battle arm failed to destroy, my deadly poisons accomplished. No one was immune! Scattered corpses, tortured souls, released forever from this plane of existence. Streets run red in the flood of the world’s lifeblood. It shimmers and gleams, glistens with a glory all its own. My reflection in it is… No! It is not me! My face! It’s not… me! I swear, I live not in this form! I died before the massacre, possessed by some unbidden evil, only to watch helplessly as my form took control. I did not want this. No. I never wanted this. But… but that darkness awoke something inside of me. Something powerful. Something maniacal. Something sinister. And I killed them, I killed them all. And I laughed. I laughed and laughed as I slaughtered the masses, finding joy in their suffering. It felt so good.”
It was soothing, and yet so painful to hear. He could pick out by the tenor of Alcibiades’ voice that the man was not completely sane. But he did not care. It only pained him to learn of his master’s violent internal conflict, and that he could do nothing to help him now. The words continued to flow to him.
“The mutilated faces of hundreds lie about my feet and my soul feels no guilt. No! That’s a lie! My heart aches and pains me with sorrow! I can feel it tightening in my chest, even now as I stand. I… I feel weak, covered in sweat that is my own and blood that is the world’s. My arm shudders and quivers as my heart pumps erratically in passion.
No, this is not passion! How fitting that it should be now that Death comes calling, but it is now of all times I wish to live! Antinon1 loose your hand from ‘round my heart! I must yet rebuild this world! It is not yet my place to die! I shall not succumb to this cruel twist of Fate! But, I have no choice. Cards, you play me an evil blow! Death you have come unto me in the form of… cardiac arrest! What irony twists my life so? I have killed so many, yet my own passing is to be due to nothing more than my own body’s weakness?”
And then… those dreadful words. Cardiac Arrest. No! It couldn’t be! His master could not die! He would not let him! He struggled to move, to cry out, to let Alci know that he was there and still alive, that he would save him. But nothing came from his vocal cords, his body would not respond. The words of his master continued to come.
“Ha! I suppose I deserve to die. Yet, you can never undo what I have done! I have wiped the slate clean, and with my passing the final roll of the die will have been set. A new paradigm has arrived! Etuua renew and heal thyself! My gift to you is a… new… beginning…”
No! It was not true! What would a new world be if it did not contain his master! He must move! He must go to him! With an agonized cry, he hauled himself to his feet, and staggered toward Alcibiades’ prone form. Collapsing beside the man, Veymos called out to him in a hoarse voice, his own body still fighting against Libitina’s effects. He shook Alci, but was not able to wake him. Making empty promises in a vain attempt to comfort himself that his master would live, he picked up and carried the body out of the street and into the nearest house. Laying him down on the bed he tried to awaken him once again, but to no avail. At last, when it was obvious that Antinon had indeed visited, Veymos, with shaking hands, slowly pulled the sheet up over his beloved master’s head. His soul was crushed, feeling as if someone had reached into his chest and ripped it open. He found he could bring himself to do nothing more than sit there and cry. His anguish poured from him as he openly sobbed, declaring his heartbreak to the world, swearing his vengeance (on whom, he did not know nor care), and pledging to continue Alci’s work, as long as he had strength left in his body.
Veymos was startled suddenly from his reverie by someone calling his name.
“Veymos! Lord Veymos! …Are you okay?” Jodin asked, as he stumbled slightly entering the room.
Veymos smiled as he took in Jodin’s rather battered appearance. “Yes, Jodin. I am fine. But it looks like Deygo managed to get the better of you. I take it he is still free, then?”
Jodin looked down at the floor and nodded weakly, ashamed that he had failed in his mission. Veymos stood and walked over to where Jodin was standing and gently tilted his face up to look at him. “Look, boy, I did not expect you to win against Deygo – he is more powerful than he appears. It would have been a nice surprise if you had, but I am not angry with you. I can see from your appearance that you have had to restore yourself, so I know you did what you could. Now, go rest and have something to eat. I have another assignment for you once you’ve recuperated.” Veymos patted Jodin on the shoulder, the young man smiling now upon learning his master was not upset with him.
“Yes, sir!” Jodin said enthusiastically, bowing as he turned and hurried out of the room, anxious to do as he was told.
As the man left, Veymos’ smile slowly faded and he sighed. So much alike, he thought. He reminds me of myself. He walked over to his window and stared out at the night sky, his hands clasped behind his back. He refused to think anymore of his life before Libitina, or of his master’s death. This was a time to look forward. It was in the future where his concerns should now lie.
1 Antinon is the Goireh ufe Day'ai'thu, or God of Death.
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