“Even Tylbis wouldn’t have gone this far to prove he was right. A life is a life and . . .”
“ . . . all life is precious. Yes, I know,” I finished for him. “I hope your sword is thirsty for death, because there are many creatures out there!”
I cut the conversation short by picking up the pace, and Vulcan was only too happy to oblige. Tylbis loved being right above all else. So did I. Giving away Cinder, the dagger into which my own blood flowed, was a radical way of silencing them; especially the sapphire dragon, the one designated as master of the waters.
The Abyss was difficult to define. Its goal and objectives were quite clear, for there was one thing we could be sure of, and that was that it was evil incarnate. Human actions and thoughts had created this faceless, formless monster and endowed it with a powerful will. At least, this is what we knew for the time being. Why “the Abyss?”
Someone had named it so. According to my memories, the only ones I had left before my attack of “fury,” and when I still possessed my divine form, his name was Jereluin Norven, a half-elf from the village of Komar, in the land of Arslais. He had fallen into an endless chasm, barely held back by the dying tip of a tree root whose branch had pierced the rock face. He emerged alive, but with a bloodied body, and not really in his right mind. This half-elf claimed to have seen the Abyss, shouting to anyone who would listen that it called itself that and that it wanted to swallow humanity whole, then spit out its bones on an earth stripped of life.
Benevolence, according to Jereluin, was the only weapon that could weaken this insatiable devourer. Not content with absorbing the worst of man—his vices, his perversions, his evil deeds and thoughts—it had, in turn, created. It spawned parasitic creatures. They lurked in the shadows of things, animals, and living beings. Made up of darkness, often invisible to the naked eye, they influenced everything that breathed and drove animals and men to deviant, violent, so-called “rabid” behaviour. Rape, murder, and other horrors were always perpetrated by an individual possessed by a creature from the Abyss.
Once under its yoke, the animal or human being was transformed into a puppet with wires connected to its foster mother—herself fed by her new child—devoid of soul, and perpetually in search of a despicable act to commit.
We were the first gods. It was therefore our responsibility to eliminate the shadow soldiers. To contain the Abyss. For if the Abyss grew larger and stronger, then, in a final assault, disease, death, and hunger would rise from its belly, followed by all the other plagues from its mouth. When that dark day came, this world, as humans knew it, would disappear forever.
Tylbis and Paivrin were working hard to find a way to destroy it. Their knowledge of nature and alchemy, and life in general, was undoubtedly immeasurable. I was absolutely certain they would succeed. As for Kynnen and I, we were more the brute force, the ones capable of fighting it, sword in hand. In fact, that’s exactly what we were going to do.
It didn’t take us long to find them. For some obscure reason, the creatures of the Abyss felt the need to gather at night, to evolve in groups, so it was the best time to eliminate them.
Of course, to kill the parasite, you also had to kill the host. That was the price we had to pay, but Paivrin, after studying numerous specimens, had assured us that the soul was no more, that what we had before us was an empty shell. A shell inhabited only by the will of the Abyss.
There were men, women, and even children. Several animals too. All possessed the same look that reflected their true nature: evil.
With a mighty cry, Kynnen and I charged forward, followed by my men. If, during the day, the puppets of the Abyss had a normal appearance, blending in with the masses without difficulty, at night, their bodies were no longer governed by the same laws. Mutating monsters. Fangs. Claws. Bloodshot eyes. Sick laughter. Screams of agony as they were killed.
My opponent had mutated. A wolf’s head, a man’s body on lion’s paws. He was tall. Much taller than me. And his fingers, curiously elongated like vines, were now as hard and sharp as whetted blades.
I’d lost my original form, sure, but I remained strong. Very strong.
I’d lost my flame, half my soul, and nearly destroyed everything we’d built up over the centuries. After years of wandering that led me to the Tarnton twins, I had found her again, and now it was up to me to become who I was. To find my unity. Paivrin called this “sacred sex,” referring to the carnal union that would allow Ashana and I to merge spiritually. After that, it would just be a matter of time, I imagine, before I regained my original form.
Tylbis was convinced that we weren’t made to love with the passion that men felt. It was love that had provoked my attack of “fury.” I couldn’t remember. My brother, the sapphire dragon, had told me so, and the others did not contradict him. What was I to conclude from this? What if I lose control again? Would the emotions that Ashana aroused in me push me to make the same mistakes I’d made in the past?
While these thoughts tumbled around my mind, my sword was relentlessly slashing away at my enemies. Kynnen was having the time of his life. A milky tornado swirled in his eyes, which made his gaze opaque and almost as white as Paivrin’s. He turned to me and I saw a strange smile hovering on his lips.
“Do you think that enjoying killing these creatures makes me a bad person?” he asked me as I thrust my blade into my opponent’s throat.
I pressed one foot against its chest to retrieve the sword with a jerk. Blood splattered on my face.
“I don’t know. Perhaps we need to remain vigilant and remember that the means we use to fight evil can make us just as monstrous as it. And we mustn’t forget that if we look at the Abyss through the eyes of its puppets, it gazes back at us.”
“You mean . . .”
Kynnen killed an enemy by slitting its throat, then shook his sword.
“ . . . that it could corrupt us because we’re obsessed with the idea of destroying it?”
Yes and no. In any case, it remained a possibility.
There were only a handful of creatures left, and the soldiers under Olba and Cyrian’s command would certainly exterminate them without any problem.
Suddenly, a piercing scream gave me goose bumps. My eyes widened in fright. That voice . . .
“Ashana,” I murmured, in a daze, before abruptly walking away from the battlefield.
“Hey!” said my brother. “Dovah!”
I didn’t answer him. My wife was in danger. I hurtled down the steep path without even taking the time to mount Vulcan. My legs carried me so fast that I quickly found her, near the huge rocks that the Tarnton workers sometimes cut.