Zerin was settled onto a wooden bench. In his hand, he held a snow cone; the shaved ice looked like freshly fallen snow. The dessert was delicately drizzled with red syrup that spilled down the sides. He took a bite; It was more enjoyable than he would have expected. But maybe anything cold would suffice on this hot summer day of July.
Around him, the city was live. Families strolled by, their laughter mixing with background music. Vendors offered colorful treats, including cotton candy spun in every hue imaginable, children darted about, their faces painted with bright and playful designs.
Today was a day that felt all too familiar to him, but the cheerful atmosphere staved off his worries. Just twenty years ago on this very day the Western Continent was attacked by the nightmare creatures that arrived through the gates.
It took everything they had but they didn't falter, even amongst the countless millions lost. Instead, the people had banded together, overcoming the gates with nothing but sheer determination. They stood tall against the odds, refusing to bow and surrender. It was a victory that would connect the continent forever.
He finished the last bit of the flavored ice and rose from the bench, tossing the empty container into the nearby trash can. As he turned back towards the bench, a sound caught his attention---a jingle mixed with a series of blips.
He turned following the sound and was greeted to see two small children, a boy and a girl. The two of them were heavily absorbed in one of the arcade machines set up outside. It struck him odd that they were able to exist like nothing happened. But how could he blame them? It was an event that happened way before they were even born.
Then his gaze fixated on something that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Hey there, quiet mouse..."
Zerin jumped, his heart leap into his throat as he turned over his shoulder, relieved to see Cael. He then quickly turned back, and it was gone.
"I thought you were on duty," Zerin replied, wiping the sweat off his brow as he faced Cael.
"I am," Cael smirked. "What are you sweating to see me for? Trust me, I don't swing that way." He punched Zerin hard on the shoulder.
Zerin winced at the blow, even though it lacked momentum, it still carried surprising force.
"What was that for?" he shouted, grabbing his shoulder.
"Come on, Dex could take that hit like a champion," Cael whispered, "Mister Divine Aspect."
There is not a damn thing divine about me!
Zerin thought, gritting his teeth and sighing.
"Come on, Twin God, let's go for a game or two on the arcade machines,"
Cael said, his voice lighthearted.
Cael constantly pestered Zerin with his True name and Aspect, finding new ways to get under your skin was something he excelled in.
Rubbing his shoulder, still feeling the pain, Zerin shot back,
"Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on the people? You know, doing your job?"
"I can do both... It's not that hard, come on!" Cael begged.
Damn slacker…
Zerin sighed and shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Isn't the parade starting soon, anyways?"
"It's the same thing every year! You seriously want to see that?" Cael crossed his arms.
"Well, this will be the first time I've seen it."
"Oh, right..."
Master Cael replied, his tone was sympathetic, but it lacked even an inch of understanding.
Although Zerin had gone to the witch and had got examined, over the past few months he had only managed to reclaim bits of his memories. Most revolved around the monotonous daily life at the orphanage—something he could have lived without.
"Well, you better get going... it's going to start in five minutes,"
Cael spoke, shooing Zerin off with his hand.
"What are you going to do?"
"What do you mean? I'm going to do my job," Cael replied, a sly grin spreading on his face.
***
Zerin made his way through the tightly packed crowd. He could hardly believe his eyes—just hours earlier, the streets had been relatively empty, but now they were jam-packed. The number of people filling the edges of the wide street, easily numbering in the thousands.
As he pressed on, he heard the voices of the crowd fade, replaced by the sharp sound of trumpets through the air—no, rather, the speakers.
The parade was finally beginning.
Suddenly, a commanding voice came through the mounted speakers, booming over everyone present.
"I, your mayor, would like to introduce today's event, marking the twentieth anniversary since our continent was attacked and our people were slain---a day when our allies from the neighboring continents bore witness as we crumbled."
A moment of silence was held in the crowd.
"But we held strong and claimed victory! Twenty years ago, this day was one of mourning! But today! Today is a day of VICTORY!"
The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, a unified shout that held such force it felt like the entire earth trembled in response. Zerin stood there, momentarily breathless, awe-struck by the response of the people. He had never witnessed such a response before; thousands of people, all forged under one spirit of triumph.
As the voices peaked, the mayor's voice returned, this time softer, allowing the voices to gradually calm down.
"Now please..."
"Would you give it up for our lovely, loyal military!" The mayor's voice was filled with pride.
"They fight back the denizens of the realm of nightmares! They fight on, even when they are weary! They wage war, despite being outmatched! They lay down their lives for our people!"
The words of the mayor echoed through the streets and a wave of unified gratitude and admiration was emitted from the people in a cheer. And borne from that cheer was the tunes of blaring brass.
The soldiers marched in perfect formation. The crowd clapped in perfect unison with the military band's drummers. The soldier's choreography was honed through hours of training. Their faces remained stoic, even as the cheers of the crowd almost begged for a reaction.
As the marching military band continued down the street the mayor of the voice returned again.
"Our people, we are fighters! Many of us are blessed, and some are not. I want to give this moment to the blessed, notably the Four that saved our civilization with the leadership they provided!"
The mayor cleared his voice audibly before he started to name the Four.
"Sorai of the Empire of the Midnight Sea! Hadrian of The Temple of Nocturne! Dorian, the individual who birthed the Throne of Virtue! And finally, we have the last, the dearly departed Cyrius, who belonged to the Heavenly Flame Order!"
The crowd began to lightly cheer as each of their respective clans were called out. But the Mayor continued on.
"Now, my lovely people! Would you please give it up for the four clans of the Western continent?"
The crowd erupted in applause. But just as quickly as it had risen, they went silent. Zerin was startled by the sudden shift. He lifted his head straining to see further down the street. Just as he did, he caught a brief sight of a clan approaching but he then lost it immediately due to the crowd jumping with cheers.
Eventually they died down, allowing Zerin to see. Emerging into his view were three women, their blonde hair flowing down over their shoulders as they walked solemnly down the road. Each of them wore a pristine white face covering that concealed their eyes. Their bodies held around them pure white silk cloth, the fabric shifting with each step, providing just enough coverage of their upper and lower regions. They were barefoot along the pavement, their steps were light and purposeful.
It was unmistakable---the women were representatives of the Heavenly flame Order. Zerin could not only tell by their garments, but he could also tell by the float behind them, where a massive statue was being carried.
Atop the float, on the elevated platform, stood a woman beside the statue's head. The statue was draped in a flowing white cloth, masking its face, but its expert craftsmanship was evident; the statue seemed to be made from pristine stone-like material—most likely marble.
The woman reached out and pulled the cloth away, unveiling the statue to the crowd. As the sunlight beamed down on the face of the statue, it glimmered like a mirror reflecting the light in all directions.
The crowd was filled with "ooohs" and aaahs" as they stared at the radiant statue. As the float continued slowly down the woman covered the statue carefully, shielding its blinding brilliance from the crowd.
And there was— the statue of the Lord of Light, something probably would have scared the naive Zerin, but now understood that the gods were very long dead, which was great for him, because they were the key component to his flaw.
Hated by the Gods for the simple fact he survived through an outcome he couldn't even control—how very fitting for those who called themselves Gods.
He watched officers stationed along the fenced barricades, open them allowing selected spectators to spill out into the street.
Soon, at least a hundred people joined in on the march. The sheer number of participants, along with the thousands of spectators yearning to be selected could only signify one thing: this was The Throne of Virtue, the largest and most esteemed clan in the Western continent today. A standing once previously held by the Heavenly Flame Order, but now it seemed that the Lord of Light outshined by the Heart God—how ironic.
As people danced with those marching, trailing behind them was an embellished float bearing a single throne, crafted from dark wood with intricate carvings.
To Zerin's surprise, there was no deity or honored figure to claim the throne.
As the music and dancing reached its pinnacle, the musicians and the dancers came to a synchronized halt. They faced both sides of the street and bowed to the audience. Once they straightened, the spectators who joined the dance returned back to the crowd through the fence gates.
"Well, that was fun! Let's get out of here; we can come back next year!" One voice called out.
Zerin was utterly confused, watching as nearly half of the parade crowd began to vanish.
Is that really why people come to this parade?
The parade was supposed to honor their clans, and yet it seemed that many had come only because of the presence of the Throne of Virtue.