In a World without God

It is said that when a person dies, they become light: starlight to guide the lost at dawn, moonlight to caress the hair of the sleeping, and sunlight to give life to all things rooted in the earth. The source of all this light is the Goddess Lutea, and to worship her is to meet the departed.

Kurzina’s mother told her this story amidst a coughing fit when Kurzina was only five.

“Zina, your mother is not leaving you. On the contrary, I will always be with you. When you clasp your hands toward Lutea, remember that I am the light hovering over you. To be close to Lutea is to be close to me.”

Kurzina believed those words. When her mother lost consciousness and eventually rested in the soil, Kurzina prayed with folded hands.

May Mother become the brightest and warmest light in the world, and may I become someone who can recognize that light.

Kurzina was convinced she had finally met the light.

As Kurzina knelt before Ed, her white, slender hands grasping his, a tear fell from her ebony eyes.

“Oh, Saint. Our Master. We were foolish, and our eyes were blinded. We did not recognize the light and have done you great disrespect.”

“Scion of a witch, a descendant of Bosha! You are no ordinary man, after all!” Aruru, standing on Ed’s chest, cried out in excitement.

Kurzina glared at Aruru.

“Watch your tongue, foolish field mouse! He is not the offspring of a witch. He heals the wounds of his enemies and rekindles extinguished life. He is the source of all light!”

“What?! How dare you call me foolish! I’ll bite your ankles off!”

“Bite me? You little mouse. If you…”

Ed’s anger dissipated as he watched the exchange between the two. Aruru was alive and chattering away. He looked at Raghad and Yug, who both stood over him. Yug was stunned, his eyes glazed over.

Ed tried to piece together what had happened—he still couldn’t remember a thing, whatever it was had apparently caused Kurzina to mistake Ed for the reincarnation of the Goddess Lutea.

The more Ed tried to remember, the more confused he felt. It hadn’t felt like a real black-out to him, more as though his consciousness had sunk into the depths of his mind and someone else had taken its place.

Raghad stepped closer and reached for Kurzina.

“Stand up, Zina.”

When she ignored him, he grabbed her shoulder and shook her.

“Zina, do you realize what you’re doing? A descendant of the heroic Bosha stooping to a descendant of Ygraine!”

“Cousin, didn’t you see it, too? The way the white light enveloped Tug and the mouse? That’s a miracle no one can duplicate.”

“No, it can’t be. There must be another explanation. How can the cursed blood be imbued with the Goddess Lutea?”

Kurzina glared at Raghad.

“The believer sees Lutea in the darkness without a single spark of light, and the unbeliever cannot grasp her hand even when she reaches out to him. Cousin, you are not taking Lutea’s outstretched hand. You have seen the true light but deny what you have seen. If it’s imbued with Lutea, doesn’t that mean it’s not cursed blood?”

“Nonsense. His silver hair and the scars on the back of his neck are proof that he is the descendant of a witch!”

“What are you claiming, cousin? Is there anyone else besides Lutea who can rekindle a dead life? Are you going to call that the work of a witch? And if it is a witch’s work to give life and show mercy, aren’t we right to serve her?”

Raghad didn’t know what to say. His obsidian-black eyes shifted from side to side uneasily. He had seen the same thing as Kurzina, but unlike her, he was not ready to accept it.

Raghad was a direct descendant of Bosha. He had been touted as a possible heir to the throne. Unlike Kurzina, his pride in his family was far greater than his faith in the Goddess, and now that pride was being questioned.

“Stand up, Zina.”

This time, it was Ed urging her to stand.

“I am honored a Saint would remember my name!” Kurzina turned back to Ed and smiled.

Ed felt strange. He had never been spoken to like this before, not as Ed or Bosha in his previous life. Kurzina’s eyes sparkled. They looked like the eyes of the people who had called Ygraine a saint. Ed knew that she believed with all her heart that Ed was the reincarnation of the Goddess Lutea. And he knew that this was an opportunity he needed to grab hold of with both hands. It was a chance to spread truth in a world of lies.

Before Bosha was the Red fox of Kaldura, he was known as Bosha the Trickster. His specialty had been acting. He could take on any role he needed to achieve his end goal. Ed knew he couldn’t pass up this opportunity and what he needed to do.

“Yes,” he said, staring into Kurzina’s eyes. “I am the Goddess Lutea. And I am Ygraine.”

Kurzina’s eyes shone brightly, wet with tears of joy.

“Rise, wise child, for I want no one to prostrate or kneel before me.”

“Of course!”

Kurzina rose at Ed’s command. Aruru tilted his head, glancing back and forth between Kurzina and Ed.

“You have eyes to see the truth,” Ed continued. “Ygraine was the name of the body I took to defeat the witch Granadilla, but my foolishness and incompetence allowed a lie to overtake the world. And now my flesh and blood descendants are being unjustly persecuted.”

Ed felt a little uncomfortable as he spoke. Ygraine hated lying. She would be frowning deeply right now if she could see Ed’s shamelessness.

Sometimes, a lie is necessary to tell the truth, though you would never approve, Ed thought.

Kurzina’s smooth, youthful face creased into a frown at Ed’s words.

“If this is true, our family is committing an unforgivable sin! We are putting shackles on those who should bask in glory and humiliating them in front of the masses. How can we atone for such sins?”

As Ed had suspected, Kurzina accepted his words readily. But the problem was Raghad. He refused to accept what Ed had to say so easily. He moved to stand in front of Kurzina as if to protect her from what Ed might have to say next.

“You say it was Ygraine who defeated Granadilla? That is absurd! Are you saying that our ancestor, Bosha, was not a hero?”

“You are afraid of the truth, child,” Ed replied calmly. “Captain Bosha led the Black Fangs through Cyros territory. He was killed in battle, single-handedly defending against Granadilla’s spawn. He died young, leaving no children behind.”

“Bosha, a Captain? Leading the Black Fangs? Why would the eldest son of a duke join a mercenary army?”

“Captain Bosha was an orphan. He has no connection to the Duke.”

Raghad’s face reddened in fury. He had reached his limit regarding what Ed had to share.

“No. No, I don’t believe it. It can’t be. If it were true, then who are we, if not the descendants of the hero Bosha?! Answer me that!”

“I’m wondering the answer to that question myself,” Ed replied calmly.

***

Back home, Raghad was in anguish. Earlier that morning, he could only think about taking the first seat at the Festival of Saints. When he wasn’t studying with his tutor, he was training his Magick in the study hall. Now, he couldn’t bring himself to do either.

Kurzina and Yug were his closest relatives, but both fell for Ed’s words. He wasn’t surprised that Kurzina had fallen under his spell, but he hadn’t expected Yug to do the same.

“We must give the saint a place to stay. We have treated the noblest of men with the humblest of hospitality. It is only fitting that we should prepare a fur bed and silken quilt for him. But we need to avoid the eyes of the elders of the house.”

As Kurzina spoke, Yug, sitting in a daze, stood up. Yug was wary of even looking at Ed. His disdain for the witch’s offspring had been replaced by awe.

“Why don’t you come to my house? We can hide from prying eyes in the warehouse; it’s less used, and my parents aren’t home.”

Yug’s father was the third captain of the Saint Defense Force, and his mother was a clerk in the local government of Vaidor. They were both very busy and rarely home.

“But what about the medic who checks on him daily?”

“I can do something about that. There are only ten days until the Saint’s Festival,” Kurzina replied. She looked back at Raghad.

“What are you going to do about your father? Are you going to tell Ashur?”

Raghad paused for a moment, then shook his head. This had been a first in his life. To see corruption in his own family and turn a blind eye.

Later, as he lay hiding in his room with his head in his hands, he couldn’t think straight. He decided to head for the library in the study hall, intending to read a history book.

History books detailing the events filled an entire wall of the library. He’d read them over and over again since he was very young. They told of the heinous deeds of the witches’ forces and how the heroic Bosha and his allies had driven them out. How could this all be false?

If Bosha was an orphan, what were the people of Le Fay now? He had asked Ed, but he hadn’t answered. He had only told him to find out for himself.

Raghad picked one of the books he had read many times and flicked through it again. He wanted to confirm that he was a descendant of the hero Bosha, and plenty of books said so. But no matter how many books he read, the white light he’d seen emitting from Ed earlier refused to leave his mind.

As Raghad scanned the shelves, a new book caught his eye.

I’ve never read this book before.

Raghad took the book from the shelf. It was titled ‘The Astanian Racial Dictionary.’ It was over fifteen hundred pages long, and the handwriting was so delicate and hard to read that he suspected this was why he hadn’t gotten around to reading it.

“The Astanian Racial Dictionary explains how the races that make up the kingdom of Astania are organized,” Raghad began to read aloud. “It details where each race originated and where and how they migrated.”

Raghad’s curiosity was piqued. He kept reading.

“A race with black hair… ah, here it is.”

The Astanians’ origins are traced to the Stone Age people who lived in the caves of the Astanian coast. Their diet consisted of fish and seaweed, and their jaws were narrower than those of landlubbers.

“What’s with the long explanation?” Raghad’s eyes ached after only a few minutes of reading the tiny scrawled handwriting, but he persevered. He wanted to confirm the origins of the Le Fay family somehow and see how the Astanians had traveled to Vaidor. He skimmed quickly, flipping through the pages, when a passage caught his eye.

The unusually white skin is the result of a long cave life. Whether red eyes are related to cave life remains to be studied.

“Red eyes?”

The hair and eyes of the Le Fay and Bosha people are all black. None of them had red eyes.

“Then I guess we’re not Astanians?”

Raghad took the book and headed for his room. He was determined to uncover the answer. What race had black hair and black eyes?

Back in his room, he flipped through the pages repeatedly. After flipping through all fifteen hundred pages, he returned to the first chapter to ensure he hadn’t missed anything. He did this until the moon set and the sun rose.

Raghad’s face was pale. He didn’t know if this was because he’d been up all night or the shock of his discovery.

There was no record: a black-haired, black-eyed race did not exist in the Astanian Racial Dictionary.

Raghad closed the book and stormed out.

Father will have answers, he thought. Ashur, his father, was knowledgeable and trustworthy, stern but compassionate. Ignoring the servant who brought him breakfast, he ran to his father’s room.

“You must be in a terrible hurry, barging in at breakfast time. Don’t you know how rude that is!” Ashur looked up at his son and chuckled.

“Who are we, Father? What race are we? Where do we come from? How did we live?”

“When did you suddenly become interested in anthropology?” Ashur raised an eyebrow but continued eating his breakfast. “We are Astanians. Our ancestors ate fish in coastal caves.”

“No, we are not. Astanians have red eyes, and ours are black as night.”

A deep wrinkle formed on Ashur’s forehead as he turned to glare at Raghad. It was the most terrifying expression he had ever seen his father make.

“Astanians have red eyes? Who told you that?” Ashur’s voice boiled with rage.

“I read it in a book.”

“Bring me the book!”

Raghad did as he was told and raced back to his room to fetch the book and bring it to Ashur, who immediately snatched it from him. Magick flickered over Ashur’s hands as he held the book tightly.

“I can’t believe you still have this book.”

Flames leaped from Ashur’s hands and devoured the book in seconds. Ashur threw the smoldering pages out the window.

“Father!”

Ashur turned to the startled Raghad. “You have seen nothing. There is no such book in this world. Do you understand me?!”