The Legend of Black Eyes 251 Adieu Old Friend

Feasts are occasions when one can eat and drink to their fill, but do Gods eat? Do they drink?

The first sign of the Holi Wars is the growing discord between the nations. Then beasts start to emerge. As soon as men engage in bloody wars, beasts come to feast on the dead. Others are sensitive to the smell of negative emotions. Fear, grief, anger... They all draw the beasts to their meals. 

The Holi Wars are the end and the beginning. Old lives are extinguished, leaving the floor for new, stronger ones to emerge. So is the way of life, a never ending cycle. Stalwart, as well as a few chosen, managed to escape the cycle, but it always caught up with them. 

He could smell the approaching Holi Wars. Death surrounded him. He'd smell dead bodies everywhere he went. He'd be washing blood off of him more often than not. He had hoped to be the new God. In fact, he'd planned and meticulously executed every step of it. He hadn't foreseen his grandson getting thrown in the Crucible however. He didn't know he'd throw decades of hard work down the gutters. 

As much as his grandson's fate pained him, he couldn't help but loathe the little rascal. If it weren't for him, he'd be the one summoning the Eternal Moon in two weeks. He'd be the one receiving the Holus. He'd be the new God of this world, and he'd get rid of Omega's threat once and for all.

Instead, he had to fight a war he didn't know he could survive. He wanted nothing but disappear. He'd vanish in some hole and research what his grandson had opened his eyes to. 

Time energy... 

If he could sense it... 

If he could see it...

Omega had hidden the Fragment from him for a very long time. Even the sneaky Cicero couldn't find it. Those who owned the Fragment at least once could identify time energy. Stalwart would have loved to get his hands on the strongest energy in the universe…

 His grandson thought he could undo all the mess he created in one spell. The fool tried to travel through time, thus creating an explosion large enough for Stalwart to catch a glimpse of the crimson energy. He saw it, even if it was for a split second. This meant he could find it again…

He was sitting in the middle Sera's square. Sera was a small village comprised of hunters and woodcutters. It was twenty miles south of the Sera Trench, the dangerous road his army had yet to cross. 

Before him sat Cicero, an old friend he never thought he'd see again. 

"Show it to me," he ordered the old man.

Cicero opened a large trunk he had placed next to him. He produced a long bundle and handed it over to the mad wizard. Stalwart slowly undid the cloth that wrapped the sword. His eyes widened as he looked at the weapon that lay atop his lap. 

It had a long hilt, enough to hold with two hands if need be. Its blade shimmered even though no light penetrated it. Thin, milky white streaks swam along the shimmering blade. He could feel its sharpness through the cloth. 

If it just happened to fall from his lap and brace his leg, it would cut it off. If it were night, and the moon shone brightly above, his torn limb would instantly turn to dust. Even the part of his soul attached to said limb would shatter into the tiniest fragments. 

Stalwart shuddered as his eyes dreamily followed the milky streams. They moved along like snakes, slithering from one end of the blade to the other. The mad wizard held it in the air. It was as tall as he was. 

"Not too heavy, not too light," he commented. He contemplated the sword as though he was looking at a lover. "The grip adjusts to your hand's size, and whether or not you'd like to two hand it. It's exactly as I remember her..." 

"I lied when I said Omega found a better sword. There is no better sword," Cicero said with a wry smile.

Stalwart's eyebrows knitted. "What have you done?" he whispered to his friend. He couldn't believe what he just heard. 

"Time is linear for all of us. No matter how we try to cheat it, it always bites us in the ass..." Cicero said. His cynical smile wouldn't leave his dejected face. 

"Cicero..." Stalwart rubbed his head hard until his hair became but tangles. He put the sword down and leaned toward the old man. He sounded deeply concerned when he spoke next. "Old friend...What the hell did you do?"

Cicero gave Stalwart his most amiable smile. It still came out as a pained grimace. "I couldn't save her, brother. Forgive me... And your son..." 

"Their fate had nothing to do with you," Stalwart said. He started to get worried. Fear gripped his heart. He couldn't remember the last time he experienced such anxiety. 

"How long must we play this game, Theo?" Cicero asked, frowning. "These old eyes of mine can no longer shed tears. I can't laugh. I can't celebrate. I can't love. I can't even go out to the world and have a normal day. And why? Because mighty Omega wants me to bring him a FUCKING Castle in the middle of nowhere... I'm tired Theo." 

"Don't you dare, you hear me?" Stalwart jumped to his feet and approached the old man. "For years I've looked for you. For years I fantasized about the million ways I could torture you. DON'T YOU DARE RUN FROM ME! Not like this..." Stalwart's voice broke at the last words as his shivering hands rested on Cicero's shoulders. 

His oldest friend was bidding him farewell. That only meant his death was approaching. Why did he bring him the sword? Was it his way of clearing his conscience, making amends? Stalwart couldn't understand. 

What's more, he couldn't forgive him. Everybody he knew had already withered and died. The only friend he still had in this wide universe was also his biggest rival. How dare he die? He wasn't the only one to have a say in this. Stalwart couldn't accept it. He wouldn't! 

"Time is linear for all of us, despite having no shape," Cicero said in a defeated tone. "It's my time, Theo. You have to let me go. You can't hold this against me forever. It's not fair." 

Stalwart began tittering. "Fair?!" he asked in a hysteric voice. The wooden houses around them began shaking, threatening to fall apart. "FAIR?!" His voice echoed through the forest. Trees bent in unnatural angles, and soldiers fell to the ground, unconscious. "IS ANY OF THIS FAIR TO YOU?!" 

Cicero shook his head. "I saw your son before I came here," he said in broken voice. 

Stalwart pulled him from the collar and lifted him off his feet. "Don't bring my family into this..." he hissed at him. The old man's cold eyes had turned furious. The houses that surrounded them collapsed, and the earth shook beneath them. 

"I'm giving you the sword," Cicero said. "Put it to good use, will you?"

Stalwart let go of his old friend then collapsed on his chair. He rested his head against his arm and stared at his feet. Cicero, after regaining his composure, took back his seat. "Promise me, Theo. Get Wojtek to Milogac." 

"What is he to you? Why should I do anything for you, anyway?" Stalwart asked in a bitter tone.

"He's the new hope," Cicero replied. "I know you have your hidden hands all over champion selection. Get him on your ship." 

"You never intended to fight this war with me, did you?" Stalwart asked. 

"Omega knows too much. King Boris will leave the capital. I kept my word. Trust me. It's for the greater good." Cicero tried to smile but his face wouldn't obey. 

Stalwart scoffed. A tear drop trickled down his cheek and he immediately wiped it. "Greater good..." he whispered. "Go now! I'll take care of your champion." 

"Thank you Theo," Cicero said, relieved. He stood and brought his trunk to Stalwart. "I put some more useful trinkets in there. Omega won't be happy, but it won't make my case any worse." He turned on his heels and walked south, away from the capital. 

"Oh, and find Abrath when get a chance," Cicero said before he disappeared. "You'll understand why I had to do it." 

"Adieu old friend," Stalwart whispered as Cicero vanished. His heart wrenched, as though wrapped in heavy, thorny chains. 

The Holi Wars are the end and the beginning. Old lives are extinguished, leaving the floor for new, stronger ones to emerge. So is the way of life, a never ending cycle. As time goes by, the powerful become forgotten, and the weak grow strong. 

Stalwart will grow older still, while all his friends, allies and enemies vanish from existence. He escaped the vicious cycle, only to watch it torment him and twist him inside and out.

Chapter end