Kismet’s Tale

       They say that the Sphere of Merez reflects the heart of those who come in contact with it. The moment he took a step forward the sphere changed. The once brilliant faunas turned grim. The world that she saw was broken into pieces. Gray wasteland that spread in every direction. The sky was like a broken snow globe, with the difference being that there was something awful in the air. Cecilia tried to calm herself but nonetheless if this was reflecting the heart of the one who touched it. Then why was it like this?

“It looks like brute force won’t work here. I’m sure that you know this.”

Cecilia nodded her head slowly. She swiped her gauntleted hand and the restrictions that were on the vault locked everything. Unless her very soul decided to, no one would be able to leave this place. 

“The Sphere of Merez displays the memories of one’s soul. However there are limits to this sphere. Limits that cannot be surpassed.”

The scenery inside the vault changed to a familiar hill. If Cecilia could remember correctly then this was located on the back of the ancestral manor of the Tomas Family.

Mavin stood at the hill while staring at the family of three that were happily talking. On the side of the three was Old Fred. It has been long since Cecilia saw Old Fred.

Her eyes went back to Mavin Tomas. The eyes longing for them. Hopelessly trying to avoid himself from reaching out. The scenery changed into something awful. The sphere of Merez, sometimes there was a question where it recreated what the soul saw or merely an illusion.

Then it changed to the scenery of butchered demifiends. And the young Mavin Tomas looking at the parents that he had truly loved. Cecilia saw how that face twisted, morphed into the stony mask. His world became lifeless and gray.

Something snapped in him. And that carefree, naïve yet goodhearted heart was replaced by something awful. An avenging son, a man who had carved a singular hate in his body. Then she saw images of what he had done. At least some of what he had done. There was a much more powerful force that prevented the sphere of Merez from revealing more than what was needed.

“It’s disgusting,” Mavin said to himself. “This sphere recreates memories. I see that there are… restrictions regarding the acquisition of said memories. I didn’t think the Old Magi were quite worried about me. No wonder you were so cooperative when it came to coming here. There is nothing much to see here other than previous regrets. But you are free to watch. If that’s what you Old Magi wants… then go ahead.”

It bothered her that he was so accepting of this. Nonetheless, it was best to try and understand what Mavin Tomas wanted. It was difficult to fight a pair that could affect their plans in the future. Lazon, and the Confederate have the geography, population, economy, resources, military, diplomatic relationships and national identity that could be troublesome to them.

Hith cannot fight her homeland at the moment. Not to mention that any problem might cause a ripple effect, and if they mess up the timing. The succession of Old Royal Blood would be detrimental to their efforts to establish the Monarchy System once more. Provoking Natalya is big enough of a threat, and if Mavin decides to do something about the sparks’ existence again. What more could they do?

The scenery before her changed. The thundering sound of artillery. Mavin Tomas walking the wasteland created by the artillery barrage. She saw flashes of memories pertaining to what he did in the war. The gruesome battle. The heads he sniped.

Seeing the violence in the trenches. She found how hard it was to believe that he would become someone like this. Whether it was him manhandling fellow soldiers or crossing a machine gun encampment or waiting for hours in the mud for that perfect goddamn shot.

She guessed that the shot who almost took him out came from Natalya. It was strange how destiny can be playful. How these suited themselves. The first wars were brutal because they broke the traditional battles. Battles were not fought in column lines. The artillery that they have ruled most of the scenes. Those who could fight hand-to-hand were only a few and that’s only when two sides entered the same trench that the battle became dirty.

It was strange that his memories of this time were much more prominent and clear than the last memories. The smell. The sounds. All of it was engraved to him like a scar. He stayed most of the time in the forests and mountains hunting down soldiers. There are times where the artillery almost got him. There are times where he would man the defenses of a cornered trench. The campaigns that he had participated within those years were terrifying. It felt like he didn’t stop fighting at all until the cease fire happened.

What was that? She thought of one of the images. The memory of Mavin rescuing a young man who was trapped in the trench hole. He carried the young man and sprinted across debris and fallen trees to save this person.

If the memories she saw were grey colored after the death of his parents. The memories returned as if giving him a color that he couldn’t perceive. It was no Natalya or her who gave him hope.

The hope that he had was the memory of two lovers who had finally met after the war. The golden wheat fields behind them. It was strange to Cecilia. It was only during that time that he was the happiest. It just didn’t make sense to her.

That moment was something that her former fiancée treasured the most in his life. It was a memory of two who couldn’t meet. As if their meeting had given him hope.

The colors that he couldn't see were back.

The grey world had become colored once more.