Chapter 327: What Is My Story?
Chapter 327 – What Is My Story?
"Don’t press me."
A heavy silence settled over the park, the wind stilling, as though sensing something odd, Emrys still staring skyward, his golden eye almost daring the gods to challenge him.
That silence didn’t last, however, as a rumbling, angry voice thundered through his ears,
[Don’t press you? Did you just tell me not to press you, Emrys?] The Golden Beggar was dangerously close to losing his patience, [Who exactly do you think you’re speaking to?]
"If you took my words as disrespect, I apologize." Emrys said plainly, "But I’m simply saying what I feel, Golden Beggar. I need time to process."
[It’s been days, Emrys! Days spent doing nothing but wandering the Outer Ring like a lost soul! Days! I said, days!!] The Beggar shouted, [Do you have any idea how much you could have accomplished in that time?! And you have the nerve to tell me not to press you?!]
"I’m not—!"
[Have you lost your sense of self after the loss?]
Emrys paused at that, then shook his head slowly, "Actually, it’s the opposite." He said, closing his eye again, "These days you’re calling wasted, those were the very days I felt I accomplished the most."
[What nonsense is this? You’ve clearly lost your mind.]
"You see, Beggar," he continued, keeping his composure, "I noticed something during those days. Something that puzzled me deeply, and made me question a great many things."
[Noticed what?] The god’s anger was genuinely rising now.
Emrys took a deep breath,
"That you’ve never once allowed me to simply think. Neither you, nor my own family, ever gave me the chance to sit down and think for myself." He smiled bitterly, "Since I was young, before I even learned to walk, mind you, I was pushed in whatever direction you wanted me to go, and all I ever needed to do was obey."
He lifted his hand, palm turned toward himself.
"You told me to swing the sword, I did. You told me to train until my body could take no more, I did. You told me never to see anyone as my equal, well, guess what? I did that too. And so on, and so on...even with my own mother, I only started visiting her at 15, and even then, I can only visit her once every two weeks. Why? Because you decided that. Not me."
[It’s for your own good.] The god said.
"Even when you ordered a 5-year-old boy, barely knowing anything, to stand outside alone during a raging storm...just to understand an affinity he hadn’t even fully unlocked yet?"
The Golden Beggar fell silent at that.
"See? I was lost, and I didn’t even realize it." Emrys continued, "So these days you call wasted, I actually spent them thinking, trying to be patient. I slowed down, for once, of my own accord. And a question surfaced, as though it dropped straight from the sky."
He opened his blue eyes again, clear and bright now,
"What is my story?" He asked.
The Golden Beggar didn’t answer.
Emrys continued.
"What is my story, Beggar? Don’t tell me to be the best, to be the Sky, to be the one above everyone else." He laughed humorlessly, "I’ve heard that so much it’s started to grate on me."
[Your story is yours to decide.]
"Then why have I never felt that control?"
[Emrys, I understand your situation.] The god said, [You’re at a delicate point in your life. A phase where you begin doubting everything, searching for meaning in places where none exists.]
"Isn’t it up to me to decide whether something has meaning or not?"
[That’s not within your power. Some things can’t be changed, no matter how much you wish otherwise. And those are exactly the things you shouldn’t begin doubting, or you’ll lose the very anchor keeping you standing, keeping you alive.]
There was a subtle edge to the god’s words, but Emrys let it pass unremarked.
"I’m simply trying to understand my own story, Beggar. I’m not denying anything. And though I don’t yet know what that story is, I do know the ending will matter a great deal." He murmured, "So I asked myself...what kind of ending do I actually want? No, let’s push further and ask...what kind of death do I want? One people celebrate? Or one they mourn? The answer is obvious, Golden Beggar."
He let out a hollow laugh.
"But do you know what’s strange about that? Despite wanting that kind of death, I’ve been acting as though I want mine to be a happy occasion for everyone involved. Isn’t that strange? Even knowing our desired outcome, we humans so often act against it. How does that make sense?"
[...]
"You’re a god. Surely you understand a mere human like me."
[What’s gotten into you today, Emrys?]
Emrys stayed quiet a moment, then smiled softly, "Nothing much, except trying to think, to understand myself better. Because I’ve realized I know myself even less than I know other people. No wonder I keep sabotaging myself, over and over."
[How much longer do you intend to stay out here?]
"Just long enough to settle my heart. And I doubt I’ll manage even that if this conversation continues."
He smiled and closed his eyes again.
"So, if you’d allow it, Golden Beggar, grant me some peace. I’m not asking much. Just time to think, to understand. Because I’ve noticed my strength alone is no longer enough."
Dead silence.
The Golden Beggar didn’t quite know what to think, or what to do, in that moment. This was the first time Emrys had ever spoken to him this way, and he disliked every bit of it.
He watched Emrys from his Gate of Heavenly Thunderstorms a while longer, before closing his divine eyes, deciding to share this new development in Emrys’s character with the other gods of the Greek Empire.
And so, Emrys continued resting peacefully, managing to both calm his heart and settle his mind.
It was nearly 2 hours later before he finally opened his eyes again, sensing a presence looming over him.
There stood a middle-aged man in a black suit, a black suitcase clutched in his right hand. The suitcase was bound tightly in chains, wrapped around the man’s entire arm.
"Dear Sky." Sirius Wolf said, smiling, the suitcase trembling violently, "I’ve been searching for you for quite some time. Your master, Adam Kai, is summoning you."
"I see." Emrys replied, slowly rising to his feet. Once standing, he stretched, sending satisfying cracks echoing through the air. "Do you know why he wants to see me?"
He asked, walking forward, Sirius falling into step behind him.
"I don’t know, dear Sky."
"Judging by his mood, then? Pleased, or displeased?"
"You know well how difficult it is to read Master’s emotions." Sirius replied, "I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything on that front."
"Guess I’ll find out once I’m there." Emrys gave up, falling silent, only to speak again after sensing Sirius’s suitcase tremble once more, "I’ve never asked before, but...what’s inside that suitcase?"
Sirius shook his head immediately, "I’m afraid I cannot answer that."
"You haven’t answered a single one of my questions this whole conversation." Emrys turned his head, glancing at him over his shoulder, eyes cold, "This is getting a bit tiresome, you know."
Sirius said nothing. The matter of the suitcase was of the utmost importance. It was fair to say his own life mattered less than the suitcase itself.
So even though he desperately wished to be free of this heavy burden, he couldn’t afford to answer any questions about it, for fear of saying something he shouldn’t.
Nothing at all.
Both for his own safety, and the Academy’s.
However, there were things Sirius didn’t know.
"Whatever it is," Emrys spoke again, "I find it strange that every time you come near me, I hear a voice inside my head."
Sirius instinctively froze mid-step, eyes going wide.
"A strange voice, sounding human, yet not quite human, like one belonging to a frail child."
BADUM! BADUM! BADUM!
The more Emrys spoke, the faster Sirius’s pulse quickened, his thoughts spinning wildly.
"But I couldn’t understand what the voice was saying." Sky continued, "It wasn’t Bambara, the official language of our continent. It sounded like it came from—!"
"Mister Sky." Sirius cut Emrys off sharply, body trembling, face suddenly slick with sweat, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Emrys paused, studying him closely with his blue eyes, taking in his reaction, his trembling gaze, then parted his lips,
"You really don’t know, do you?"
"...I don’t."
"Guess I misheard, then." Emrys said, golden lightning crackling around him, "Forget I said anything, Sirius. I’m heading in now, I’ve been out here long enough that I can practically see the dissatisfaction on my gods’ faces from here."
[...]
Without waiting for a reply, Emrys vanished in a crack of lightning.
Sirius stood there alone, breathing heavily. He lowered his gaze to the suitcase, still shaking so violently his arm felt on the verge of being torn off.
He clenched his jaw, blood welling at the corner of his lips.
"This is bad. This is very bad."
Inside the suitcase, a monstrous voice escaped, audible only to Sirius, enough to drop him to his knees, his eyes weeping black blood that twisted into worms, gnawing at his own flesh.
"She..." he coughed blood, face a mask of horror, "she is awakening."
—End of Chapter 327—