Viggo had never been so stretched in his life as he became at this time - stretched between extreme hope and extreme despair. On one hand, the greatest dream of his life - a true awakening among his people - was nearly within his grasp. He had accepted that he was different and no one would ever understand his vision for a better way. Yet now, hope had come through such an unexpected means, and with it, a kindred spirit. He had felt so alone and misunderstood. But Alethes understood him, shared his hopes and dreams. And not only that, but he was almost certain she was the key to unlock them.
But on the other hand, his mother continued to weaken and wither away. The one person he could always count on no matter what, who had strengthened and guided him to think and learn and grow ever since he could remember, was steadily losing the battle for her life. And his anguish was becoming more than he could take.
His body soon succumbed to the stress and he developed a cold. He was the last to admit it, but he could hardly function and after a short time, he found himself stuck in bed while Alethes took care of him and his mother both. He felt more depressed than ever, unable to get up and spend his mornings outside pouring out his soul to Gadriel for an hour or two, unable to take care of his mother himself, unable to do any chores, unable to play his sahnis or sing or even really talk. In short, he was unable to do any of the things he had done the past couple of months to try to keep his head above the waves of despair. And now he felt utterly helpless.
Viggo's was naturally a gentle spirit from the beginning of his life, wanting only to love and be loved by his family. But his teenagehood and the growing divide in his family that accompanied it changed him. He understood then that his expectations were simply not going to be filled - not by his dad, not by his sister. Life and the world he lived in had disappointed him, and he became somewhat shut-off. The affectionate, carefree boy became a serious, responsible man. His fulfillment was in being independent and taking care of his mother. It gave him a sense of strength and purpose, and was his most satisfying and caring relationship. And the thought of losing her was unbearable.
Now there was nothing he could do but think about that all day long as he coughed, wheezed, and blew his nose, unable to even breathe without a struggle. He had never asked for much in life - just simple peace and love. He had always adapted to his circumstances and been grateful and content despite his many disappointments, and had always believed that the gods had a purpose, a good reason for everything, whether he could see it or not. But now things had gone too far and he could no longer find his faith, almost literally drowning in bitterness. And he felt no gratitude for the puny blessings he used to thank the gods for. Instead, he wrestled with Gadriel to spare his mother.
She doesn't deserve to die, and I don't even deserve to lose her. So why are you doing this? Why can't she just get better? He silently sobbed, making himself cough even more. His feelings of helplessness turned to anger - anger at the gods for not caring, anger at his dad for not caring, anger at Drea for not caring, even a little anger at himself for not being able to fix the problem despite being the only one who cared. He didn't have the strength to be so angry, and soon exhausted himself and fell asleep.
When he slowly began to wake up from his nap, his throat and sinuses were improved but his heart was heavy. Alethes was sitting beside him on the bed, dabbing his forehead with a cool, wet cloth. A soothing aroma filled the air and relaxed his nerves. "Let someone take care of you for once," she said, smiling slightly in sympathy. He was too sick and tired to disagree if he wanted to, and the aching emptiness he felt was soothed by a strange sensation of comfort he couldn't quite understand. Somehow he felt safe and like everything was going to be okay. It took him back to the days when he was little and his mama took care of him, instead of him taking care of his mother. Back then, he didn't worry or think it was up to him to make sure his family was safe and sound.
"You're not bad at the healing art," he said hoarsely.
"I watch and learn," Alethes smiled, then went on, "I wanted to be a healer when I was a teenager, but that never happened." She knitted her brows as if in deep thought.
"Really?" Viggo asked.
"Yeah," she said, "I haven't really thought of it until now. But I remember. I wanted to be useful and help people."
"So what happened?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said, looking down. "I'm sure you're tired. I'll let you rest."
"I'd rather you talk," he coughed, "if you don't mind."
"I can do that," she said, "but what should I talk about?"
"Your past," he said. "I think you could remember more now if you think more about what you were just telling me."
She sighed. "I just think being a healer wasn't the only thing I wanted to do that I didn't get to do. I'm not so sure I ever had much of a life worth remembering."
"Now we're getting somewhere," Viggo smiled. "Is that why you hide from your memories?"
"I don't know if I hide from them," she said, then confessed, "Well maybe I do. I just have this feeling that my life could be just as confusing if I remember it, as it is without knowing who I am. Like maybe this isn't the first time I asked who I was and couldn't figure it out. And maybe I don't even want to go back."
"You probably would have if you really wanted to," he said. "But maybe it's time to face the unknown."
"You're probably right," she said. "I'm not sure where to start."
"Start with whatever's on your mind," he said.
Both were silent for a while as she gazed out the window, thinking seriously. "Well," she began slowly, "all I really wanted was a simple life. I wanted a family of my own. I wanted children. And I would have been more than happy." She looked at her hands on her lap. "But some things came up, I guess. And they were more important than the life I wanted. But it doesn't really make sense, because I don't remember doing anything important."
"Sometimes the most important things don't feel very important," Viggo said.
"Yeah, I know," she said.
"You mentioned trying to figure out who you were," he said. "What was that like?"
"Exceedingly frustrating," she said. "I went all my life without asking, but as soon as I started getting older and thinking about what kind of life I wanted, something held me back. I felt like I couldn't just decide where I was going without understanding where I was coming from, but instead of dealing with all those complications, all I really wanted was to raise happy children with a good father."
"Why was that so important to you?" Viggo asked.
"Because I didn't have a father, and I wanted to have children I could give a better life than mine. And if they could be happy, then I felt I could finally be happy."
"That says a lot," he said. "So you were raised by your mother then?"
The floodgates seemed to open, and the answers to that and some other questions came pouring back into Alethes's memory and then into Viggo's ears. It turned out she was adopted by her "mother" at the age of three, who had cared for her as her own daughter. She'd never really concerned herself with her identity as far as who she was born to until she was 16, when she felt it was something she needed to know. After that, it had taken her a couple of years to track down her biological parents who had abandoned her. And when she found them, they were in Arria. The flow of memory ended there, where nothing great seemed to have happened. She certainly didn't develop a relationship with her biological parents. But at least she knew a little more about who she was, and at least she could remember that much now. Viggo was pleased with the progress and soon fell asleep and slept soundly all night.
When he woke up in the morning, it was to the familiar faces of Drea and Ajnin. Physically, he was already almost back to his normal health, but seeing his little sister and his best friend was an immense relief. After the despair that had overcome him the day before, he was pretty happy with the change of circumstances. And despite the reason they had come, his family was more whole than it had been in years, and they were enjoying every moment together.
There was some initial shock on both sides. Epifany and Viggo were surprised to learn that Drea liked to wear the skin from snakes she'd killed, but in a way, it wasn't very hard to accept since they knew how she was and were happy just to see her. She and Ajnin, however, were stunned to see how much Epifany had changed since the last time either of them had seen her, now so fragile and weak that they hugged her gently for fear they would break her. Nothing they had heard could prepare them to discover the brittle shell of a person she had become.
They were surprised to meet Alethes, as they had anticipated that she would've gone home by the time they arrived. But they were glad she was there, especially since Viggo had been sick and she had taken care of him and Epifany both. Epifany and Viggo practically regarded her as family, and Drea and Ajnin easily accepted her likewise as they got to know her.
One of those mornings at the beginning of June, Alethes woke up and went to see how Epifany was doing. It was her usual morning routine. Often she would find Epifany sleeping, but sometimes she was awake and could use some water or just someone to talk to. On the way to the room Epifany slept in, Alethes always saw enough of the house to know what everyone was up to. And as usual in the early morning, Viggo was nowhere in the house, Ajnin was faithfully reading his Legends, and Drea was sleeping in some strange, random position. Alethes smiled. There was something about all of these people, like they were just meant to be in her life.
She found Epifany awake and slightly propped up with pillows, looking thoughtful. "Epifany, is there anything I can do or get for you?" she asked.
"No, thank you Alethes," she answered in her soft, weakened voice. "I still have some water here from last night."
Alethes sat down beside her on the bed and asked, "Is something on your mind?"
"My children," Epifany answered. "I'm a little worried about them." Alethes nodded slightly, and Epifany continued, "I trust the gods, and if it is my time to go, then I am ready to go. I am not afraid of death. I'm tired, to be honest, and the thought of resting in the grave doesn't sound unpleasant to me. The next thing I'll know, I'll be waking up in the Kingdom of Light anyway, when the time of resurrection comes." Her face seemed to emanate with peace. "So I don't worry about myself anymore. Gadriel comforts me. But I've been watching it break Viggo's heart for months, and I know Drea doesn't want me to go either. And that breaks my heart too." Her peaceful expression turned to one of sadness and weariness.
"You've been so good for Viggo," she went on. "He felt so alone before you came along. And I know he knew I understood him, but it wasn't enough. I know my condition has been hard on him, but I hate to imagine how much worse it would have been if he'd had to carry the burden without your help and kindness, your understanding, and just your companionship. I can't thank you enough for being here for him, and for me."
Tears began to form in Alethes's eyes. "There's no place I'd rather be," she said.
"That may be so now," Epifany said quietly, "but the time will come when you know where you belong, and it may not be here. But if you're here longer than I am, would you do me a favor and look after Viggo?"
"Of course," Alethes said, inconspicuously wiping her eye. "No matter what happens." She truly couldn't imagine anything becoming more important to her.
"I know Ajnin will take care of Drea," Epifany said with hint of a smile. "He's a good man - a bit indoctrinated," she whispered, "but he means well and I know I can trust him. My daughter on the other hand is a wild thing and I don't know how long it will take her to find her way. I used to worry that she would be burned at the end of all things. But the gods know her story, they know her heart, and like me, they know what she was born into and how she was brought up. It isn't her fault that she's always been restless and discontent from the time she was too young to speak. It's half mine, and half her father's. And I know she won't be burned for being the lost spirit she was molded to be. I just hope she finds peace."
"She will," Alethes said.
Then they heard the front door open, and soon Viggo came into the room to join them.
"Even the most evil of people are children of the gods," Epifany said, "and it's not their fault they were created and then life molded them the wrong way."
"I just wonder sometimes though," Viggo said, "what makes someone good enough to be in the Kingdom of Light and another person bad enough to be burned? Where do you draw the line?"
"I don't think anyone will be burned," Alethes said.
They both looked at her, surprised. "Tell us what you think then," Viggo said invitingly.
Alethes smiled. "I know what we've believed for generations," she said, "but I think some things have been taken too literally. It's true that the only way for us to live in the Kingdom of Light is to cultivate good character, and no good will come from neglecting to do that. But that's simply because of natural consequences, cause and effect - not an arbitrary decision of the gods." They clearly didn't know where she was going with this.
"What I mean is," she went on, feeling more self-conscious as Ajnin walked in, "I don't believe we'll ever leave this world to go to the Kingdom of Light, or to the burning sun to be destroyed. I believe the Kingdom of Light will be established in this world."
"How?" said Epifany.
"It will happen naturally when we cultivate good character as we've been told repeatedly to do."
"Alright," Viggo said, "so basically, you're saying that as we do what we're supposed to and follow the light, we won't be rewarded by being taken to the Kingdom of Light. But instead, the Kingdom of Light will be created here by our own actions?"
"Yes."
Viggo and Epifany looked thoughtful, Ajnin looked skeptical, and Drea looked tired as she stumbled into the room.
"I don't know," Viggo said. "I like the idea, but it would take a lot of getting used to."
"What about the burning sun?" Drea asked, yawning.
"Well," Alethes said, surprised that Drea was so interested, "it's like how refiners use fire to purify metal. It's not used to destroy the metal, just to separate it from the dross. And literal fire can't fix any spiritual problems, so why would the gods want to burn us on the sun if they had any sense? I think it's symbolic of the things we go through in life, sometimes painful, that we can learn from and refine our characters. That's the fire we go through until we live in the Kingdom of Light. In fact, I think living in this world is like living on the burning sun sometimes."
"That's the truth," Epifany chuckled softly.
"The men who wrote the Legends," Viggo said pensively, "they lived in such barbaric times. What if the gods were just speaking to them at the level they could understand? Violence and punishment?"
"That makes perfect sense to me," said Epifany, shakily reaching for her glass of water.
"They believed a lot of superstitious nonsense back then," Drea said. "I'm not following a bunch of idiots."
"We have to be careful," Ajnin said, looking concerned. "We can't just change the written word of the gods to suit what makes sense to us or what we're more comfortable with. People will think they can do whatever they want with no consequences if there's no burning sun to avoid."
"Ajnin!" Drea exclaimed, dropping her jaw and covering her mouth with her hand in feigned shock. "Language!"
He gave her a look of confusion and frustration, losing his train of thought, and she giggled happily.
"Well," Alethes said, trying not to laugh at Drea's antics, "do the gods really want us to follow them out of fear of arbitrary punishment? Or out of love and understanding that their way leads to happiness naturally?"
"That's true," Ajnin said, "it should be out of love. But how can we know what their way is, let alone follow it, if we don't trust the old truths implicitly? We can fall prey to any number of false beliefs, without Gadriel's clear, personal guidance from the tried and true words of the Legends."
Drea sat behind her mother and began to brush her hair gently, knowing how relaxing it was to Epifany.
"But then," Viggo said, "where did the writers of the Legends get the truth from? They didn't have the Legends to turn to, obviously. They talked with the gods, and the gods told them what they were ready to hear, what they needed at that time."
"But there's the difference," Ajnin said, "they were seers and none of us are."
Viggo kept his mouth shut. Obviously Ajnin wasn't ready to believe Alethes's secret.
"Narsil was the last seer," Ajnin went on. "She was with us less than 200 years ago, so through her, we already have a modern understanding."
"She was the last seer," Viggo repeated thoughtfully. "Did she say that?"
"No, she didn't," Ajnin said. "But the Legends do. It wasn't for her to say. She was far too modest."
Viggo remembered the passage Ajnin was referring to. Every Miran would. But it had been a while since he'd read it, and he couldn't remember exactly what it said. He hadn't been reading his Legends much for months now, choosing rather to spend his morning quiet time outside in nature, talking with Gadriel about everything that was on his mind and breathing in the calmness and peace that refreshed him. It felt more important to him and more personal than reading the same words over and over again, and it had taught him more and changed him more than anything he'd read ever could. Ajnin wasn't ready to see that, but Viggo knew it was the truth. Still, he was curious about the passage that supposedly said Narsil would be the last seer.
"That's in the prophecies of Zahn, right?" he asked. Ajnin nodded. "I'll have to read that again," Viggo said. "It's been a while."