Ashborn Primordial

Chapter 309: Return of the Guardian (Four)

“I must admit, the plan went off more easily than I’d hoped,” Asuman said, holding up a drink from a reclining chair in his bedchambers.

The only other occupant was a Warrior in a faceless mask.

“Greed is a powerful motivator. And a powerful blinder. Do keep that in mind,” Vir replied. He leaned against a wall a few paces away.

“You needn’t worry. With Gatiman gone and his ilk behind bars, there will be no one to heckle your Gargans.”

Vir ground his teeth, but Asuman didn’t hear. “They are your Gargans, too.”

“Yes, yes,” Asuman replied offhandedly, irking Vir to no small degree. It served as a cold reminder that while the governor had cooperated thus far, he was not an ally. Nor would he ever be.

His deep-seated hatred of Garga was not something he’d soon forget, and Vir knew that one day, he’d have to make a tough decision.

Vir wasn’t averse to killing. It was why he hadn’t hesitated to end Gatiman. Yet, he wasn’t a cold-blooded murder either. That was why he’d spared the lives of Gatiman’s supporters.

He dreaded the day he’d have to kill Asuman, who was neither evil nor good, but that was a concern for another time. For now, he’d restored order in the city.

He didn’t wait for a response.

“You are like a passing storm. Intense and ever-moving,” Janani said. “Can I not persuade you to linger a little longer? The children will be shattered to see you leave.”

“You know I’d like nothing more,” Vir said, idly smoothing Shan’s fur. They were outside the orphanage, watching the children play. It was much the same sight as before, except now, their clothes actually fit, and only some were barefoot.

“I thought footwear was no longer a problem?” Vir asked.

Janani sighed. “It isn’t. Still, some of the children were barefoot for so long, they say they find the shoes uncomfortable. If I force them to wear some, I’ll just find them discarded somewhere later.”

“I see…” Vir said, wondering what other effects a lifetime of poverty and malnutrition would have on them.

“You still blame yourself?” Janani asked softly.

“I… I’m unsure,” Vir said.

“Good,” Janani said. “You have grown, then. Is this why your eyes linger on Hiya and Ekta?”

“I suppose,” Vir replied.

“I’m afraid so,” Janani said with a sad smile. “I’ve done what I can to cheer them up, but I’m afraid they’ve only grown worse as the days pass. This is one wound I’m afraid to allow time to heal.”

“Would it help if I spoke to them?”

“In truth, I wanted to ask you myself,” Janani replied, visibly relieved. “I think it might. And, you may find that it may very well help you as well. Though you are in a rush, are you not? Can you spare the time?”

“For them? I have all the time in the realm.”

After thanking Vir, Janani left to attend to her duties, while Vir waited until the girls finished playing, though he didn’t wait long. It was clear from the beginning that their hearts weren’t in the game.

The girls moved away from the rest of the group, but Vir cornered them before they left the orphanage for wherever they were bound.

“Neel?” Hiya said, taking a half-step back. “I, er…”

“My apologies,” Vir said. “I did not mean to scare you. I just thought… er…”

Vir found his pulse quickening, and his face growing hot. His palms grew sweat, and the words simply refused to come.

He’d just blackmailed two of the most powerful groups in the city. He’d arrested a coup before it resulted in the annihilation of Samar Patag’s heads of state… And here he was, struggling to speak with a child.

At that moment, Vir understood something profound—he’d never been one for small talk. To get through to these frightened girls, he had to speak from the heart. And that is what he would do.

“Let’s take a walk. I’d like to talk about Bolin.”

Hiya froze mid-stride, causing Ekta to bump into her. “Y-you do?” she squeaked in a voice a full octave higher than normal.

Behind her, Ekta had gone just as rigid. “I don’t want to,” Ekta said.

Vir knelt in front of the younger girl and took her hands in his. “These feelings you feel… These nasty feelings… I feel them, too. I feel them more strongly as one who could have saved him.”

“That’s not fair,” Hiya said. “You weren’t even here.”

“True,” Vir replied. “I wasn’t. But I do know powerful healers. Healers who might’ve saved him.”

If it truly was a Chakra attack, as Vir suspected, then no Panav healing art would have mattered. But he didn’t know that for certain.

“That’s like saying you feel bad for not saving everyone who ever needed saving. It’s challish,” Hiya said, more firmly this time.

Vir gave her a small smile. “Then, is it not even more challish to blame a child who had no ability to change what happened?”

Hiya went red, and Ekta clung onto Vir’s sleeve just a little tighter.

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“W-what makes you think we blame ourselves?” Hiya said, sniffling.

“Because it’s what I would do, were I in your shoes.”

Like a bursting dam, Hiya fell to her knees.

“He’s gone, Neel!” she cried, sobbing into Vir’s clothing. “He’s gone. And there’s nothing that’ll bring him back.”

“I doubt even the gods can resurrect the dead, Hiya,” Vir said, softly stroking her head.

It’d taken a bit to get the two children to open up to him, but now that they had, it was as if a dam had burst, and all the pent-up emotions they’d been keeping bottled inside spilled out.

Years ago, Vir might’ve panicked and tried to make them stop. Now, he understood it for what it was. A healthy response. And necessary, if they were ever to properly grieve for the brave boy who had sacrificed his life for them. If they wanted any hope of moving past the trauma, they needed this.

“Then what should we do?” Hiya asked. “How do we make the world right again?”

Vir thought for a moment. He thought of consoling words, of sweet talk that might ease her pain.

Except, he realized, none of that would. No, only substance—truth—and the grim cliffs of reality would force upon them the perspective they needed.

It had worked for Vir, after all.

“That Garuda,” Vir said. “Do you know why it attacked you?”

Hiya looked to Ekta, who shook her head. “B-because that’s what Ash Beasts do…” she said at at length.

“Right. Ash Beasts are ever-hungry. They rip apart anything they see.”

“Then?”

“Hiya, that Garuda attacked you because I let it.”

“You were protecting the city! You defended us!”

“Yes. And I let some through. Because I couldn’t protect you all.”

“That’s… you did your best! You confronted them on your own! You…”

Vir gave the sobbing girl a gentle smile.

“Yes. I did. And until now, I’ve blamed myself. Just like you. Just like how you attacked that Garuda to save Svar, I protected the city. Just like how a bunch of kids held off an Ash Beast most Warrior Callings wouldn’t dare attack, a lone demon stood against the might of a horde.”

“N-No… It’s different,” Hiya said.

“It’s not.” It wasn’t Vir, but Ekta, who corrected her. “Neel is right! It’s the same.”

Hiya bit her lip and looked away.

“Do you know how many perished in that attack?” Vir asked.

The girls shook their heads.

“Nearly fifty, with a hundred more injured. Fifty people died because of my actions, Hiya.”

“H-how!?” Hiya asked. “How do you…”

“How do I live with that? I live with it because I know in my heart that I did everything I could. I gave it my all, and then I went even further. And I think of all the lives I saved that day. Demons who would have died had I not been there.”

Until that very moment, Vir had been unsure of his feelings toward the horde’s attack. He’d borne the weight of the lives lost and agonized over his actions. If he’d defended the southern front for a while longer—if he’d used some other strategy…

“We can ruminate and rationalize all we want,” Vir said. “Yet doing so will not raise the dead. Nor will it make us feel any better in the end. Only worse.”

“So, what do you do, Neel?” Ekta asked, wiping the tears from her face.

“I do what I can for those I can. I live my life to its fullest. Without regret. So that, when everything is said and done, I can look upon my actions and feel happy. I move forward and I use my failures as an opportunity. To learn. To grow. That I might succeed where I erred in the past.”

Ekta sniffled and a fresh round of tears poured from Hiya’s eyes.

“You… Wish for us to be better?” Hiya said softly.

“Is that not what Bolin would want?” Vir asked. “For you to grow strong, so you can protect others in his stead?”

“He would,” Ekta said with a nod.

“We were stupid to go out that night.” Hiya spat. “It was my idea. I convinced Bolin. It was me!”

“And yet, Bolin agreed, did he not?” Vir said. “Without you… Without Bolin’s sacrifice, Svar and his friends would have died.”

“One life. For three. Is that what you’re saying?” Hiya said.

“No,” Vir replied. “I refuse to weigh lives on such a scale. Lives are far too precious to think of as merely numbers. What I’m saying is that Bolin made a conscious decision. As did you. Your choice resulted in his death, yes, but the burden was also his to bear. As the eldest, it was his responsibility to stop you, was it not?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then the burden is not only yours to bear. It belongs to Bolin. It belongs to Ekta, for following. It belongs to Janani, for not monitoring you closer. And it belongs to me, for allowing that monster inside the city.”

“I… understand,” Hiya said, as the tears continued to trickle down her face. “I’ll be better. For Bolin. I’ll become strong, Neel. I’ll do it. I’ll become so strong that I’ll protect everyone. Just watch.”

“M-me too,” Ekta said.

Vir ruffled their hair. “Of that, I have no doubt. It’s all any of us can do. To forge ahead, despite the challenges. To never give up. Do this, and you will become the sort of adults that serve as an inspiration to others. Do this, and you will honor Bolin’s memory.”

It was, perhaps, a cruel burden to place on their small, fragile shoulders. And yet, Vir felt it was necessary. Not only for them to move past Bolin’s death, but to be reforged and tempered by the tragedy. To emerge stronger, and better suited to deal with the harsh reality of the world that lay ahead.

They huddled that way for a long while, each lost in their own heads. When Vir finally bid them goodbye and returned to the orphanage with the children, it was with a newfound sense of peace. Of acceptance of what happened at Samar Patag, and at the Ash Boundary in defense of his demons.

And, crucially, of what would happen on this road to rebellion he’d embarked upon. For it was a road paved with sweat, tears, and the corpses of hopeful demons. There would be death to come, and plenty of it. As their leader, the responsibility would be Vir’s to bear.

Now, finally, he could accept that. And with that acceptance came a realization. A moment of epiphany of the true weight of life. Of its transience and fragility.

A gate opened within him, and as he returned to Janani to bid her farewell, Vir felt he was coming to understand what Shardul meant about Chakras being a personal journey.

The secret of the Life Chakra had revealed itself, and was now open.

“You’re sure?” Vir asked, eyeing his wolf skeptically.

“I mean it. You should take Shan,” Janani said. “He’s missed you dearly, and with the rebels improving and Gatiman gone, we have little need of him.”

Vir looked at his Ashfire wolf, who stared up with hopeful eyes. The wolf had been oddly affectionate as of late, and perhaps it was the time apart. Vir could relate—his time away from Maiya had only shown him just how precious she was to him.

Janani was right, though. Vir had briefly inspected the rebels during his brief stay, and they had indeed improved. He gave them a few pointers, but their drive and willingness to protect the Gargans had fueled much of their progress. They weren’t Warriors yet, but they soon would be.

“Then I suppose I will.” Shan would be invaluable in guarding his budding army’s camp. And to be honest, he missed the wolf as well. Shan’s presence was always a warm comfort.

“Then I guess this is goodbye, for now,” Vir said.

“I suppose it is,” Janani said with a pained expression.

They stood there for a moment, neither saying anything.

“Neel?” Janani finally asked. “I’ve known you what, months now? And yet, I still don’t know who you truly are. You appear out of nowhere. You win us rights we’ve been unable to win for decades. And now, you’ve eliminated the only group who posed us any threat. Who are you? Really? Are you… Are you who I think you are? Are you…”

Vir smirked. “And just who do you think I am?”

“Our guardian angel,” Janani said before flushing furiously. “No, forget I said anything. I apologize.”

“I’m a demon. Just like you. Just like anyone else.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that. After all this…” Janani muttered.

Vir looked off into the distance. “You once told a fable. About a soul long lost. You said he was still alive.”

“Y-yes?” Janani said, her voice trembling.

“You thought he was biding his time. Out there. Waiting for the right moment to return.”

Janani’s breath grew ragged, and she fumbled for a nearby chair for balance. Her eyes widened as Vir unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a brilliantly white tattoo that contrasted against his pale gray skin.

“Wonder no longer. Your years of suffering are nearly at an end.”

Vir shifted his gaze and met her eyes. Ash prana flared, becoming visible and wreathing him in black flames. Shan flared his own prana, growing far more vicious and regal, before following Vir into the shadow.

Janani cupped her face in her hands and fell to her knees, shaking uncontrollably.

“For the one you thought missing has returned.”

Vir sunk slowly into the shadows, never once breaking his gaze.

Vir slipped into the ground, ashen flames hiding him like the physical incarnation of a living god.

“W-Wait!” Janani blurted. “I—I never even thanked you! For what you did. For Garga. For the orphans…”

“And you will never have to.”

The flames died off, leaving only the sound of Janani’s sobs behind.