Prose

Cicatrix manet
 
 
 
He is our greatest triumph, the embodimentof the hopes of an entire world, the hero of justice we have been waiting for all this while, the only man who can defeat the Tyrant.
 
No....not a man.
 
I can only stare dumbfounded as a saga worthy of being hailed in a thousand songs unfolds before my very eyes. I will describe it, for that is what I do...that is my gift in the scheme of things.
 
And alas that is all I am good for.
 
Their muscles coil and harden like cords of liquid metal, I say liquid metal for no steel I know of no matter how bright or true can bend like that, and no rope I know of be it made from the leaves of mimbar or the blades of shuta grass can compare to this strength. Their arms are locked in, two titanic vices wrenching and straining every single moment to bend the other to it’s will. It is like seeing a mountain clash with the endless sea. Their eyes smoulder and glow in the twilight, steam rises from their massive frames. Their own sweat, turned vapour by the very therma within. I cower behind my cover, a rock which might as well be frail vellum for the protection it affords. I can scarcely contain myself from crying out and bolting away from the place like all have done. Every instinct in my body screams to get away. Every fibre of my mind reinforces my will to stay and see this through to the end.
 
They have been fighting for three days.
 
It began with a duel of chaos powers let loose at a scale that has been unseen for centuries, not since the Tyrant came to power...not since he deposed the Eldest and assumed the throne. All the stories of my childhood come reeling to the surface as the thousand prophecies of doom that had echoed in them now seems a living breathing thing.
 
When the Gods are insulted, when man dares to steal their power and unleash it on the Earth. The Dragon shall rise up, and then shall man be devoured. For the Gods do not take kindly to those who insult them.
 
By the seven, these two shall verily unleash the dragon. If this goes on, if such power is allowed to roam unchecked. Then we are all truly doomed. I take a quick peek about to check if anyone else is present. Unfortunately I know the answer before I even see it. Who would stay at a place like this.
 
This was once Karnati. Holiest of the Seven Cities. Blessed by the Divines, rich beyond belief. All that remains now is rubble. Where there were once the hundred pillars of red marble, hewn from the
red mines of the Sifrat desert a wonder for all to behold, there are now charred pits of molten rock and boiling fire burned forever into the earth by the primordial lightning they called down. Gone is the Crystal Palace, gone the scented Tower of Gardens, replaced instead by charred flesh flayed on burnt
black stone.A ringed ruined crown is all that remains of the Tower. Strewn about the two are the remains of Karnati’s mighty army. Most cannot even be recognized as anything human. Crushed, battered, broken, torn, cindered and sundered beyond any hope of repair are the corpses of a hundred thousand brave
soldiers. Who fought till the last man, and took no retreat’s shelter, no coward’s path.
 
Just the deeds of the army are enough to create a saga fit for eons to come, alas their tale will not even be a footnote in the larger history of things.
 
I saw the King of Karnati, in his amber armor and crystal crown, I saw him raise Glourfaun, The fabled blue blade of his ancestors. I saw him torn apart in a hail of pink mist and flying shreds of flesh in the very next moment. I saw the might of us men who have raised Empires and mighty wizards fail utterly and completely when faced with a higher power.
 
I saw the truth. The truth that we are lost.
 
A gigantic crash awakens me to the present. It would seem one of them has gained an upper hand. The Tyrant, Oh Gods it is
the Tyrant who loses. He is down to one knee his face strained beyond anything I have witnessed before. Veins bulge beneath
the skin, his skin which glows golden from the power seeping through it’s pores. Even now as he loses he loses akin to a monster from horrors of old. Unstoppable, trashing and destroying everything, even in his death throes. A fist crashes into his face, sending him reeling, followed by another and another. The earths shakes with these strikes, it shifts and rumbles. I float...float on solid earth. This should not be possible. This is beyond anything I had ever dreamed. Again and again, mightiest of strikes a hammer fall of the gods, every strike rings out now as if metal striking metal. Deafening peals of metallic thunder resonating out across the ruined country. Somewhere distant a volcano explodes belching ash into the darkening sky. An eternity I hear the bells toll. My mind unable to
take any more gives up and I whimper and crouch behind my vantage, tears hot boiling down my cheeks, tears of shame, of weariness of desperation....helplessness.
 
I cry and cry and cry until I can cry no more, but my heart still bleeds in my chest, so I wail silently. The fear of discovery is enough to keep any sound from escaping these parched lips. My mind feels alien, unknown as slowly yet steadily reason slips away from my grasp and minutes, hours, days, years blend together seamlessly. Freeing me from the illusion of time. In my madness I hear the divine bell toll as I run careless and free on the grassy plains outside as I once did. Too long ago to remember.
 
The taste of ash in my mouth brings me to my senses. It is dark now, every dark. No stars. My mind numb from shock and nearly spent tries to gather a sense of my bearings. And then I hear it. The titanic clash of metal on metal, I peek out daring beyond my meagre courage to cast one last glance at the struggle. Alas in the pitch of the night I see nothing. Then the crash echoes and a rising hail of sparks illuminates the two figures forever branding them within my mind.
 
One foot rests on the Tyrant’s chest kneeling over him, his fist has pounded the tyrant into the very ground. And still he strikes, his own face is fixed in a ghastly visage, rage twisting his once noble features, his mouth dripping and covered in blood.
 
None of it his own.
 
My very soul recoils in horror. For now at last I see him for what he is. This is not our saviour This is not the promised one, this is not the man who will rescue us, not the great hope of humanity. He was hailed as the Savior by all. But I see him now for what he truly is. He is the Dragon. The light in his eyes tells me the truth I failed to see when I had the chance. How was I ever this foolish. Look at him. Who else could have ever destroyed the Tyrant so.
 
The Tyrant, the only man to ever steal from the Gods and live. The immortal God Emperor of our world, who had reigned for a
thousand years over all men. Who else but the Dragon would ever be able to drag him down.
 
Both fists rise up and clamp together, they come down like god’s own hand and this time there is no metallic sound. This time there is a sickening crunch. Red mist spurts up and he breathes it all in. He drinks the Tyrant’s blood from the very air and laughs a booming rasping hollow laughter that deafens me, my heart drying up in it’s wake.
 
I see who you are.
 
He looks up then, stares at the sky witnessing something only he can see. Taking in a big gulp of air he lets loose  roar that shakes the entire world. The skies shudder reeling under the shock of the force. It is the last thing I ever hear. But my eyes are still open. I see arcs of blinding lightning as they explode from within the Tyrant to mark and bury him completely. With the last bit of the Tyrant’s power consumed I know it is truly over. He rises up. A colossus now, grown larger and stronger by the Godly essence he has drained, he walks over the ruins of my beloved Karnati, heavy steps treading over broken marble and bony skulls with equal ease and indifference.
 
I had thought him to be our messiah.
 
I had thought him to be our Hero.
 
We were so proud in our rituals, so proud in our magic, secure in the knowledge that he could be controlled. The tears flow once again as the rumbling of his stride grows distant. He has moved on, leaving behind the ruins of an entire civilization. Ten thousand years wiped clean in a mere three days. I am the last of my kind, the last of the Karnati. But did not the death of my beloved city fall on my own head. Had I but realized...had I but known.
 
I brought him to this world, despite the warnings. I gave him a conscious form, and I gave him the desire. Yes other wizards performed the spells but it was my idea all along. Use a greater force to defeat an undefeatable force. I convinced them it needed to be done. He had been locked away beyond mortal bounds. Locked away for all eternity. Perhaps even by the Gods. And I, ever the fool in my quest for honor and vengeance. I unleashed him upon the world.
 
Without even knowing his name I unleashed him on this world.
 
Of course I know now what his name means. More fool am I for not knowing it before.
 
He is The Breaker.
 
And he will break the entire world before he is done.