187 The Morning Star Need Not Fear The Dark

Because I cannot see in the dark! I fear it! 

Why do you fear what you cannot see, childe? 

Because something painful might be within it! I might get hurt by it!

Ah, the truth has been revealed. Listen to yourself, you do not fear the dark! You needn't fear it any longer.

What...do you mean? 

It is pain that you fear, my childe, not the dark. You fear that pain might hide under a cloak of darkness to strike at you... but that will never happen.

How do you know that?

I know that because I exist, my childe. And as long as I exist, the dark will always be your ally.

...For I am the Sun, and your mother the Moon.

Our light will be with you no matter where you are. 

— Excerpt from "Lu'um Nihtil Ka'an Pavesu" (The Sun and the Moon's Promise)

"...Do you think it's acceptable to lie for the sake of protecting a child's innocence? Many cultures agree that the purity children possess is priceless. It is an irreplaceable treasure. And yet, they are destined to lose it at some point in their lives."

He had changed in what seemed only an hour's time to him. In the duration that he had gone missing, something truly profound must have happened to him. In fact, everyone had been completely fooled by his incredible transformation, to the point that they had thought him a mysterious stranger when he showed up...

"And yet parents will continue to shield their children. Even in the face of total despair, they will not break the illusory veil they have constructed for their children."

Everything about him had changed. He had become a giant amongst giants, his dramatic figure now a raven tower of mystery and solemnity. His smoky amber eyes had not moved away from a strange cylindrical container.

The container bore only a single symbol on its exterior — a stylized pictogram of a sun severed in half.

"It is such a beautiful custom, don't you think? They will hush their babes into a peaceful sleep as the Reaper comes to collect what he is owed." 

He appeared a dead man, his skin the shade of a fresh corpse. Colder than the bottom of hell and more distant than the end of the universe. 

Velvund had not spoken a word since Reed had returned, opting to only listen instead. Rather than interrupt and pester him with questions, he understood it would do Reed better if he lent him his ear. 

Sometimes the only thing a person needs is someone to hear their thoughts. To vent and unload their problems out of themselves. In other words, a cathartic period of respite. 

Reed let out an exhausted sigh and said, "I've finally learned who I am. I know now that I am not the Sun, but rather its pitiful shadow. What I am is nothing more than the negative space of my environment."

Velvund scratched his chin and said, "...And?" 

...He does not fear me? Even after I made it clear what I am now? Even so, he has not given up on me? 

"Why? You know what I am. I am an ene—" asked Reed.

"Because it does not matter what you are or what the world perceives you to be," said Velvund, his tone severe and scathing. 

All he needed was reaffirmation. For someone to show him how to clear the fog that plagued him. 

We are our own creators, my son. Do not let anything mislead you about this simple truth. Your parents, your personal history, your friends and enemies — they're just guideposts for you to orient yourself with. Nothing more."

He was not scared of Reed. He was mad at him. 

It was a parent's fury — something that Reed had never experienced before... until now. 

The word "dumbstruck" best described when he realized what had just happened.

Reed did not respond... but he did not seem adverse to the advice Velvund had given him. At the very least, it had calmed him down somewhat, evident by the softening expression on Reed's face.

Velvund internally let out a breath of relief as he patted Reed's head. Even if he had transformed, it did not change the fact that he was still the person inside to him.

A troubled young boy in desperate need of a family.

It was Velvund who had identified Reed when he had arrived, much to the shock of everyone who had been seen him. 

He had changed in almost every way possible, except for one little detail.

His eyes. Though they had changed considerably in light of his disappearance, what laid past them had not. It only took a gaze into his eyes to see that uniquely pure soul had not changed in the slightest. If anything, it had only become even purer than before...

Which begot the question — why had he become like this? 

"Thank you," said Reed as a wayward smile formed on his face. He snorted in self-derision and murmured, "I'll always be in your debt at this rate, though."

Velvund burst into tears when he heard that and said, "D-Debt?! Oh, for the love of...!" It was as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world.

"Huh? What's so funny about that? I don't get it. Did I say something wrong?" said Reed. 

Velvund shook his head and said, "A child doesn't owe their family anything, my fool of a grandson. We're family, not business partners." 

"A-Ah, you're right... That was pretty stupid of me. Sorry about that. Bad habits die hard," blurted Reed embarrassedly. 

Reed stood up and put the odd container inside of his cloak for safekeeping, the only thing he had come back with when he first arrived. 

"What is that little thing you've brought back? Some kind of artefact you found in Itroch?" inquired Velvund, curious about the object Reed found so fascinating.

"...Not exactly. It's, well, something... extremely precious to me. I had it secured in a vault of sorts, but I have plans for it now that a special opportunity has arisen."

Reed stroked the container and said, "But only time will tell if my idea will work."

Now there was the boy he knew, thought Velvund. The moment he brought up the odd container, a bit of that cheerful kid he remembered had suddenly returned from the grave. He could practically hear the melody of mischief in the air.

"Well, let's leave that bit of fun aside for now", warned Velvund. "There's still work to do. We can't rest just yet. Speaking of which, where is my granddaughter? Why was she not with you when you arrived?"

Therein laid the question Velvund felt most pressing.

Where in the world was the other half of his equation? 

Reed hesitated and then said, "We fell out a bit... Sort of, I think. ...Or rather, I ran away after I became like this. I just didn't want to know whether she was frightened of me or not. But it's fine; I can handle the rest of the fissures myself."

This isn't the time for a lover's spat, goddammit!! The fate of the world is up in the air and these two imbeciles have seemingly found the time for this nonsense?!!

If Mulia falls because of this ridiculous farce, I-I'll...

Velvund wanted to die inside. He was about to reach his boiling point, something he had not experienced in literal millennia. 

He has seriously contemplated the idea that Lu'um might've been injured, or worse and yet...

Lately, Velvund felt that he had been getting older. Every morning, he felt as if new wrinkles had begun to form on his face. His hair, too, seemed to be turning whiter with each passing day. 

The roguishly handsome Silver Fox of the East suddenly felt his actual age for the first time in eternity... for the worst possible reasons. 

Ah... I might die before the end of this. And here I thought I'd did fighting the Infestation... What a cruel joke this would be...

"Don't worry too much about it, since I'm already working on the job. Already started without her considering we're running on an extremely tight schedule. If all goes well, I'll finish before the new deadline. Hopefully." 

"What did you just say?"

Already working on the job? New deadline? ...Hopefully? Excuse me, Goddess? 

Reed shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, we only have two days left so I couldn't just afford to waste any more time, right? Needed to pick up the pace, so I decided to handle the last two fissures simultaneously."

For what seemed like a painful eternity, Velvund stared at Reed as if he'd been told that his wife cheated on him, his children despised him and that he only had a single credit to his name.

"What? I can handle it, even without Lu'um around. I don't see the problem here. You worry too much, gramps. Honestly, it's fine. I've already reached the site for the fissure in the Wes—" 

Reed frowned and said, "...Do you know a Viceroy Ingorrel? There's a bunch of mean-looking gentlemen staring me down right now at the entrance of a cavern. They're shouting at me saying that only Viceroy Ingorrel has the permission to let me through."

Velvund bolted up in a hurry and said, "Don't do anything! Just wait and let me take care of this, okay?! I mean it, just keep quiet and don't take another step!"

He tore a spatial tear open and vanished into the Void with such urgency one would have thought he has been fleeing from a nightmare. 

"Oh, no," said Reed as he watched the spatial tear repair itself into nothingness. "I already messed up."

Well, I'm sure gramps will smooth it all out. He's the best negotiator in Mulia, after all. If anyone can do it, it'll probably be him...

Reed turned toward a particular direction, in the middle of a windowless room and said, "Can I have you relay a message to gramps when he returns? Tell him I've gone to see a friend of mine... Prince Haydn."

He cordially smiled at a single millimeter notch on an old, antique desk. An unassuming detail in an ordinary piece of furniture for most, but not for Reed. 

A certain microscopic camera's vision was suddenly filled up to brim with Reed's amused expression until a large thumb blotted everything out into pure static...

When the holographic projection of Reed vanished, a collective shudder passed through everyone who had been present in the Crown Prince's personal guest quarters aboard the Spirit of Bountiful Charity.

Astor, Ophelia, and Horatio felt as if they'd been discovered by a nightmare from the way Reed had found the camera. It happened so spontaneously, Astor nearly soiled himself out of pure terror. 

The way he had effortlessly found them and the unnaturally friendly expression on his face... It was like something out of a horror film, thought Horatio. Even he had been rendered somewhat unnerved by Reed.

Ophelia shut her eyes as she pondered what they'd heard and said, "Bilocation? No, Multilocation? That's... not possible. No one can be in multiple places simultaneously, not even us. The composition of the soul makes such a thing impossible to accomplish."

Three bodies and a single soul? It's absolutely impossible — the triune tidal force created would have torn his soul into pieces in a matter of seconds. 

By all means, Reed should have been rendered a mindless vegetable. Therefore, she considered what Reed had said nothing less than the ravings of an unstable friend. 

"Unfortunately, that logic only applies to us, my dear niece, " said Haydn as he stared at the static screen with a macabre smile on his face. "What you saw today will not leave this room, am I clear? It never happened. Should you violate this command, well, not even I will be able to save you from the miserable fate that will await the three of you. I will be locking this event down and I strongly advise you to do the same..."

As the Honest Prince, what he had seen had the potential to ruin him. The dangerous secret he learned had such a capacity, for it carried... undesirable implications about the existence known as Reed.

And that was a death sentence, for the Dreaming Council would not tolerate any unnecessary errors in their future plans. To them, even the Crown Prince of the North was nothing more than a pawn, no different than the mortal sheeple they ruled over. 

Haydn immediately began to seal yet another forbidden memory deep within his subconscious in a self-made mnemonic vault.  A safe of memories that contained an unknown number of horrible secrets that would never escape his lips, not even in death. 

Each terrible memory was sealed in a conceptual lockbox of unique construction that could only be opened with a special key — a highly specific phrase that had to be spoken in a particular language. 

The double-layered complexity of the memory key meant that it would close to impossible for anyone to say the precise set of words required to force the memory to resurface. It was Haydn's patented method of bypassing the spiritual geass he had imposed on himself to remain honest under all possible circumstances. 

To this end, Haydn had labored in learning every single language he could manage to find, be it Human-based, Avunian, Eisalon, Nuedo, Cunian, Yulanti, Isavli, Faai, etc... the list went on. In many ways, he was more of a linguist than he was a Chosen or even a future ruler. 

Seeking answers that were not open to him, Haydn set forth for the crown and eventually earned the right to wear it... only to have become a prison of secrets. 

As Haydn mulled over the dreary fate that awaited him if someone guessed the phrase he had chosen for this particular secret, a pang of terrible inspiration struck him, as if to him ridicule him for his actions. He had figured out what language he wanted to use for this memory.

An indescribable chill ran down his spine and the world spun around him until it turned into a pastel of black... and then an enormous steel vault manifested from out of the darkness. 

A small lockbox flew out of the vault and flew over to Haydn waiting for him to deposit his evil into it. 

The instant he touched the lockbox, a dull wave of pain assaulted him for a couple of seconds until the work was done. Within the lockbox laid an odd container with a severed sun emblazoned upon it — the only thing that remained was to lock it. 

And then, as if by a force not his own, he uttered a phrase in a dead language forgotten by the world. 

Eaxti y'teo tal'monal acalte syu ya'seh huilli...

(In the absence of light of the Gods, seek the shadow of the Devil...) 

Thus yet another secret was sealed in the bottommost level of his mind, never to resurface again unless required. A grim prospect he was now beginning to find plausible in light of what happening as of late... 

Haydn opened his eyes and stared at the holographic screen displaying static. 

Even though he could no longer remember what he had sealed within himself, the residual horror still remained, which spoke enough about what had occurred...

"We are leaving effectively immediately," said Haydn, following his survival instincts screaming at him. He wanted to go back home as soon as possible. They were done now that the Itroch fissure had presumably been repaired. Their job as done. 

He tore a spatial tear open and practically threw himself into it before muttered, "We can't stay here... that ship is cursed, for it harbors..." 

The Devil.