The Tears of Kas̆dael

It was late before Jasper finally headed back to his tent. The events of the last few days had put him on edge, and he entered the tent cautiously, scanning carefully for any sign of an intruder. This time, though, he was truly alone.

Releasing a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in, Jasper plopped down on his cot and used a quick flame from his hand to light the twin candles on the rickety stand beside it. As their cheery glow filled the room, he reached into his bag and pulled out the package the king had given him.

The leaf sat heavy in his hands, still glowing with the arcane light S̆ars̆adû had sheathed it with. The pain the leaf had brought him last time had been excruciating. He knew it wasn’t supposed to hurt that bad and the king had even explained that Jasper’s pain was the result of his mixed bloodline, but that wouldn’t ease his suffering. Maybe if the reward had been better, it would have been easier to overlook the pain, but, frankly, Jasper found the Bramble Crown underwhelming.

He’d generally not deemed magical armor in games not worth the effort. They were almost always strictly worse than actual armor while wasting the same limited resourced pool one needed to cast offensive spells. And even if they were worth using, the truth was he’d always had more of an ‘offense is the best defense’ sort of mindset. But Kas̆dael had encouraged him to choose the skill, so perhaps eventually there’d be a payoff. Maybe.

Might as well get this over with. He sent a sliver of essence into the leaf and the light it glowed with dimmed slightly. He pushed harder, funneling more of his essence into the barrier, but it dissolved at a glacial pace. Sweat was dripping from his brow and he could feel the first signs of essence deprivation before the barrier finally collapsed.

A surge of manic energy flooded through his veins as the leaf brushed against his palm, a tingling, intoxicating feeling that was accompanied by equally sharp pin-pricks of pain. The walls of the tent fell away, followed by the tables, the cot, and even the grass beneath his feet as the leaf's essence infused itself into his body.

In the blink of an eye, Jasper found himself on the fallen plains he'd seen once before. Towering obelisks of obsidian surrounded him on all sides. Many were damaged - though from age or ruin, Jasper could not tell - and their broken shards pointed to a sky filled with uncharted stars. Hundreds of gis̆ātu trees were scattered between the obelisks, their boughs and leaves alight with a flame that never faltered. But he was not in the same place as the first vision.

This time, the ruins of a mighty city squatted on the hills in front of him. He recognized vague touches of Djinn architecture in the ruins, but they were far beyond anything S̆addānu possessed, save perhaps for the As̆rukkat. The city was too large to see its full extent, its walls wrapping around the nearest hills and ducking out of sight, nor did he see any easy path to its entrance.

A large river wound its way through the plains before the city. Its waters were slow and sluggish, but the faint vapors of steam that rose from its surface warned Jasper that it might just be a fatal swim - and that was before he noticed faint ripples below its surface, caused by swiftly moving black blobs a dozen times his size. The only way across was a shattered bridge, whose middle had long since been carted off by the waters.

He started to pull on his essence, thinking to cast Spectral Wings, when the leaf demanded his attention once again.

The pin-pricks of pain rapidly exploded in number and severity. Though he could see nothing around him save for the desolate plains, he staggered with each blossom of pain, as if being hit by an unseen hammer. The leaf fused to his hand and its flames leapt across his skin. Wherever the flames reached, his flesh was consumed until his body was nothing but currents of raging fire, swirling around a burning ember.

Blinded by the pain, Jasper didn’t notice the sapling growing in front of him until its leaves brushed against his core. That brought a fresh, new wave of pain, but he watched as the sapling rose higher into the sky, quickly developing until it was the size of an apple tree. And then, finally, the voice he’d heard before echoed within his soul.

That which was lost can be reborn, but not by you. The disappointment in the voice was so palpable that Jasper, despite the pain he was in, almost began to feel bad for letting the speaker down, until he realized how insane that was. He had no mouth with which to speak, but somehow he managed to reply. “Then why do you torment me?”

Torment? The voice seemed confused. The fires of Nūr are only a blessing to his children, sustenance for the ember of their hearts.

“And I’m a half-blood.” He said it wearily, realizing the king’s hypothesis had been correct. Still, it felt unfair. Was the pain even worth the slight improvement to The Bramble Crown he’d probably get? He didn’t think so.

After a long period of silence, the voice spoke again. You are not the one to rebirth the fallen, but perhaps your ember can birth something new. Jasper felt a subtle change in the pain consuming him. The fierceness of the heat seemed to die down slightly, and in the midst of the raging inferno, he saw flickers of a smoky, grey substance emerge. As more of the grey mixed into the fires, the pain subsided and the flames themselves took a markedly different appearance, burning with a white light that cast no shadow. And when it reached his core, the burning ember suspended above the tree, he blanked out.

A small waterfall of sweat rippled down Jasper’s back as he came to. The bed beneath him was completely soaked from his sweat and his clothes clung to his back like he’d joined a very disappointing wet t-shirt contest. His mouth was as dry as the Sahara and he lurched to his feet, stumbling over to the table where a canteen sat.

He downed the entire contents of the flask in a matter of seconds and, tossing it aside, searched for more water. There was only the washbasin on the table in the corner but, despite the fact he’d used to wash up the day before, Jasper was too thirsty to care. He guzzled its contents too before the thirst was finally quenched. Slamming the bowl back down on the table, he froze as he glimpsed himself in the mirror.

Jasper generally avoided mirrors these days, hating the sight of the dark red skin that had been forced on him, but the color had lightened significantly. The color could be almost mistaken now for an unusually deep tan that, for some mysterious reason, had a slightly reddish hue. It wasn’t great, but he decided it was an improvement.

Those weren’t the only changes. His murky, hazel eyes now glinted with a metallic grey sheen, as if forged from solid steel plates, and his canines were noticeably longer, though not quite long enough to truly label ‘fangs.’ Even his hair had been touched by the change, and his long, tawny locks were now streaked with touches of grey. One thing remained the same, though, and, despite the prejudice he occasionally experienced from the Djinn, he was still glad of it - at least there’s no damned horns.

But the changes were not what he’d expected, and Jasper knew there was only one way to learn more about them. But before meditating, he ventured down to the nearby creek and, stripping off his sopping wet clothes, washed off the salty sweat that covered him before it crystallized. Heading back to the tent, he slipped into a fresh tunic and sat down on the grass beside the cot, not wanting to even touch the soaked mattress.

I am the river…. His mind got temporarily caught on the image of him actually behaving like a river and soaking the bed, and he struggled to concentrate. I am the rock…. It didn’t come easy, but eventually the world around him gave way to the world in his mind and he stepped into the void, ready for some answers.

Like usual, he found himself standing in the central rotunda of Kas̆dael’s temple, S̆uḫruru. Things had begun to change there too. Her statue still stood at the center of the temple, its head barely scraping below the crest of the rotunda some 200 feet above, but a garden had begun to flower around it. White flowers and green moss were intermixed with winding paths of amber, whose contours were now lit by hundreds of ivory candles. The most surprising change, though, was that he was not entirely alone.

The central chamber was as vast as two football fields side by side, so no one was close to him, but he saw at a distance several other figures walking through the newly sprouted garden. Their black dresses glistened with the sheen of silk and veils obscured their face, but even from a distance, he could see they weren’t human. Long tails dragged behind them, tails covered in scales and armored plates, and even sported sharp spikes at the end.

The monkey inside instinctively quivered at the sight of a reptilian threat, and he took a nervous step back before his conscious mind caught up. I’m sure I’m not in any danger here. But what the hell are those things?

“Jasper!” Kas̆dael’s voice rang in his ear, infused with undisguised joy. “Have you decided to quit avoiding me?” He turned to greet with her a big smile and nodded his head in the direction of the strange beings on the far side of the room.

“Well, I experienced a few…changes recently, and was hoping you could give me some answers, but it looks like I’m not the only one. Who are your guests?”

The joy in her face dimmed. “The Us̆umgallu. While I am always happy to see the lights in Aldāru return, they should not be here - not so soon.”

His brow crinkled at her cryptic words. “What does that mean?”

“I am the Lady of Last Light,” Kas̆dael explained. “No race comes to dwell in the city of Aldāru until their light is almost extinguished. Only then do they join me in the void, to await the rebirth of the world.”

“Does that mean their race was wiped out?”

“The us̆umgallu lived on an archipelago far across the seas from Corsythia, a land that has been cut off since the Zalancthians invaded. A few months ago, their main island erupted in an explosion far greater than any before and it ignited a chain reaction. Volcanoes and earthquakes were followed by floods, and almost the entire population was blotted out in a matter of days. Perhaps in a few years, their remnants will reach the shores of Corsythia, but their people shall never recover. Already, their souls have begun to fill my halls.”

“And there’s nothing you can do to help them?” Jasper asked, turning around to watch the distant maidens with eyes full of pity.

She shrugged. “Although the us̆umgallu, like all others, are eventually gathered to my halls, they did not worship me. I was not even aware of their fall until it had already happened, nor do I believe I could have saved them. I am far from omnipotent in my present state, and there was nothing natural about their destruction.”

“You think another god destroyed them?!”

“Without a doubt,” she replied, “but not one of our own. The us̆umgallu had long been locked in conflict with the same peoples from whom the Zalancthians fled. It was likely one of their own gods, a long-lost scion of Ummadammah, who smote them. But come, let us discuss the true reason you are here.”