Ashborn Primordial

Chapter 296: Mantle of the Blessed Chosen (Two) (Maiya)

It was winter there.

Having only recently traveled to the frigid, snowy terrain, Maiya understood she was being shown a vision of Sai. Not Kartara—the capital she’d raided—but some other town. Likely either Kaiya or Ksaia, she wasn’t sure.

So cold…

Two brothers sat huddled by a wall in some slum, their shoulders touching for warmth, shivering, with only the thin rags of a blanket to cover them. They couldn’t have been more than eight.

The scene rapidly shifted, now showing more of the brothers. In each, they appeared slightly taller than before, though no less bony and frail. The liquid pool showed them stealing for food and huddling in abandoned hovels before ultimately being thrown out.

The passage of time continued, showing the brothers joining gangs and heckling others. Those were better years—the brothers were nicer clothing. While not happy, Maiya could see they were at least surviving and packing on some weight.

Weight that marked them as different from the others. The brothers had always been taller than the other children, yet now they were bulkier. Maiya knew then whose story she was witnessing unfold. Why she was being shown the Blessed Chosen’s past, she couldn’t understand, but she watched on, transfixed nevertheless.

The brothers’ bulk continued to build as the years passed. The young teens graduated from mere intimidation to bullying, and sometimes even borderline torture. All for their gang. Their clothing improved, and they no longer lived on the street. As leaders, they’d claimed a building all on their own.

Their operation expanded. The two brothers were feared and respected by their rivals and members alike.

Not by the city officials—they’d been well bribed to leave the gang alone—but by another gang. A larger one, who worried the two brothers would someday pose a challenge.

They didn’t kill the boys. They killed most everyone else, but the leaders they left alive.

Maiya gasped, knuckles clutching the edge of the pool as she leaned closer.

Two thugs forced one brother to kneel while the other was dragged to a chopping block. The brother was forced to watch as his sibling’s tongue was ruthlessly cut and burned to staunch the bleeding.

The Silent One’s screams became muffled, guttural noises that were almost worse. The elder brother who’d been forced to watch railed against his captors, kicking and screaming in his brother’s stead… but it was no use.

What followed was a brutal beating and breaking of bones, after which the brothers were thrown out onto the streets like dogs.

With nowhere to go, the elder brother guided his now-mute sibling into the sewers. Deep into its depths, where none would find them.

From there, he raided the surface, bringing back food, lighting orbs, and other supplies to make their lives livable in the dark, putrid place.

Months passed, and when one fell sick—an inevitability in such a place—the other would fetch medicine, often ransacking healers’ stores to do it.

The scene shifted again, and this time, Maiya saw the brothers plumbing the depths of the sewers. It’d become something of a hobby of theirs—for there was precious little to pass the time in that place.

To their amazement, the tunnels led deep. Far deeper than they’d ever anticipated.

They discovered an entire maze of streets and roads beneath the sewers. Attracted by the call of adventure and more sanitary living conditions, they moved their home deeper and deeper, intent on mapping the area in its entirety.

Maiya saw the joy on the brothers’ faces. Joy they hadn’t felt in years. This was their castle. A castle no one would knock down.

And then, one day, they found something buried so deep, so long forgotten, that they were sure no one alive knew of its existence.

They discovered the ruins of an ancient city. From before history. From the Age of Gods.

Chills ran down Maiya’s back. What she was witnessing had likely only ever been witnessed by two other sets of eyes. No one else.

The city wasn’t a ruin at all. Just… dormant. Awaiting the arrival of the right people.

Blue-white lights blazed to life, illuminating the road to the many buildings.

As if summoned from a deep slumber, a giant being formed out of thin air, right before the brothers’ star-struck eyes.

A god. With a face so grotesque, Maiya knew immediately. This was no benevolent entity. Its face was a mask of wrath and hatred. Not the hatred any mortal could possess, but hatred that had simmered and cooked for thousands of years.

She also knew his identity. While she’d never seen him, she did know someone who had. Someone who had explained his features in great detail.

“You have arrived,” Janak said to the brothers, as if he’d expected them all along. “Good. For they are not the only ones who can guide Fate. There is much work to be done, and little time. You seek vengeance. You seek a life beyond dregs and sewers. You seek power. Work with me, and I shall see to it that you obtain power the likes of which you cannot fathom.”

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Maiya couldn’t understand. Why was she being shown all of this? Why would a god broker a deal with these two urchins?

She tore her gaze from the pool, intending to ask the Blessed Chosen to clarify.

She found him missing. She’d been so absorbed in the pool’s visions that she’d lost track of her surroundings.

Cursing her mistake, Maiya’s eyes darted around the small room. She caught sight of the Blessed Chosen too late. Too late to avoid the man’s large hands as they wrapped around her head.

Maiya’s vision spun.

What in Adinat’s name?

The small room had disappeared, replaced by the bustling streets of a northern city in the midst of winter. The same city from the pool’s vision. Except now, she was in it. She felt the icy ocean’s wind and the salt on her skin. She saw the ships’ sails flutter and the seamen bustle.

What magic allowed the Blessed Chosen to transport her like this, Maiya did not know.

“We are in my mind, now,” the Blessed Chosen said, looking upon the scene with nostalgia. “The part of it most sacred to me. Fitting, perhaps, for it to take the form of this place.”

“I don’t understand any of this. Why did you show me all of that? How did you bring me here? Why?”

“To talk. Yet even here, in the depths of my own mind, I am afraid I cannot say all that I wish to say. Cannot show you what you need to see. Despite my desperate desire for you to know, communication is not sacred. Not here. Not anywhere. I ask that you accept my apologies… And my gratitude.”

Gratitude? Why would he be thankful? To me, of all people?

When she’d begun the ritual, she’d expected hardship, in the form of combat. Whatever this was… it was far beyond anything she could comprehend. The last thing she’d expected was for the Blessed Chosen to apologize to her, of all people. For the first time in a long while, Maiya felt truly lost.

“What can you tell me?” Maiya asked, desperate to slot more pieces into this ever-more-confusing puzzle. Part of her wanted to believe that the Blessed Chosen had lost his mind. Another, larger part, felt there was a method to his madness.

“When I took the mantle of the Blessed Chosen, I felt I was strong enough to resist their effects. I felt I could handle the burden. To thwart whatever it was they had in store for us. I… was wrong. If there is one thing you take away from this, Maiya, let it be that mortals have no business meddling in the affairs of gods. To try is to invite tragedy.”

“You speak of your god,” Maiya said cautiously, trying to piece together this puzzle. “Not the Prana Swarm in Mahādi, but these gods only you claim to know of.”

“The Swarm is nothing but a minion—a useful symbol behind which to rally,” the Blessed Chosen replied. “As are the rest of us. Unwitting minions. Minions who can never rebel or escape their prison. For who can rebel against Fate itself?”

The Blessed Chosen turned from the idyllic dockside scenery to stare Maiya in the eyes. Here, in this place, he was not the frail man on death’s doorstep. He’d returned to his large, muscled, and powerful glory. And yet, Maiya sensed no hostility from him. Only resignation… And the faintest glimmer of hope.

“He does not wish for what I am about to do. He feels that you will bring the end of realms. Yet, I am now convinced that this is the only chance we have to save it.”

“I don’t understand,” Maiya said. “You speak of gods and their almighty powers… and you expect me to do something about it? Me, of all people? I have my hands full plotting the overthrow of two countries. I can’t do what you ask.”

“You must. I have seen you grow, Maiya. I have seen your rapid rise through our ranks. Have you ever once asked yourself how such a thing came to be? Have you once asked yourself how you rose so quickly through the ranks of Kin’jal? How you landed in that most sacred of chambers? How every event and decision in your life has led you to this place? Here? Now?”

Maiya took a half-step back. “What do you mean?” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

“I mean that Fate is real. More real than you can imagine. And that there are those who seek to control it.”

Maiya’s world spun. She stumbled, finding the Blessed Chosen’s sturdy arm for support as the implications of his words landed.

“You’re saying that me taking the mantle of the Blessed Chosen… was some deity’s doing?”

“There are forces acting upon this realm, Maiya. Forces who have vied for supremacy against one another for millennia, locked in constant battle. Know this—more than who we are, more than our very identities as people, we are, first and foremost, but pawns on a celestial stage.”

“Why tell me all this?” Maiya asked breathlessly. “What makes you think I can do anything about this?”

“A feeling. Nothing more. Nothing less. Perhaps you will succeed where I have not. I sense… something different about you. I simply—”

The world of boats and winter disappeared, and the dim hollow chamber under the tree reasserted itself with jarring suddenness.

It was only Maiya’s years of trained combat instinct that saved her. She twisted away, just in time to avoid the dagger that had been bound for her neck.

The dagger sliced into her skin, avoiding her all-important arteries, throwing blood against the tree’s root. Blood that was absorbed, disappearing only moments later.

The Blessed Chosen? No, it can’t be…

Wielding the dagger was a giant of a man. The Blessed Chosen may have been a powerful man in the world within his mind, but right now, frail and sickly as he was, he commanded none of that imposing presence.

“The Silent One,” Maiya whispered, suddenly understanding.

“Why? I don’t want to fight you!” Maiya said, though her words were lost over the clang of her dagger with his.

Ordinarily, Maiya would stand no chance against a man wielding such immense natural strength.

Which was why the dagger she wielded boasted not just one, but two Enhance Speed orbs. What she lacked in power, she made up for in speed, giving her blade far more weight than it could otherwise have.

The Silent One, however, was fighting for his brother’s life, and would risk everything to do so. Even as their blades met, the Silent One’ swung, landing a clean blow on Maiya’s torso.

Such was the force of the impact that Maiya was lifted briefly off her feet, slamming into the roots that formed the walls just behind her.

Rolling, Maiya shrugged off the blow. While the thin fabric armor under her ceremonial robe was useless on its own, when strengthened by no less than five defense orbs, it gave Maiya unrivaled protection and mobility.

Even so, Maiya knew she couldn’t take many more of those before the orbs’ charge ran out. And there was recharging them in the midst of combat.

She took a different approach.

The Silent One moved to strike. This time, Maiya opened her arms, showing not even the hint of aggression. She didn’t block. She didn’t dodge. She made no move to defend herself.

“I want to help him, too,” she said, speaking from the heart. “Can’t you see? He’s dying?”

The Silent One’s dagger ground to a halt a hair’s breadth from Maiya’s chest. He turned, and perhaps for the first time, regarded his brother’s pitiful state.

Dropping his dagger, the Silent One rushed to the Blessed Chosen’s side, barely reaching the man before he collapsed onto the floor.

The Silent One sobbed silently, his body shaking as he held his dying brother in his arms.

“Weep not, Bheem,” the Blessed Chosen rasped. “It is what I want. For I am relieved of this burden at last.”

The Blessed Chosen’s eyes wandered to Maiya, and despite his failing body, there was a resolve in those eyes. A determined hope that Maiya would be the one to right all of his wrongs.

Maiya met those eyes… and held them.

The Blessed Chosen uttered only a single word before his heart stilled, and the air left his lungs for the last time.

“Try.”

Maiya had no time to register his passing. For the moment the Blessed Chosen passed, Maiya inherited his burden.

Her consciousness bloomed. Awareness expanded in every direction. And a heaviness settled upon her soul.

Unable to resist, Maiya clutched her head and screamed.