Kael woke up with a faint sense of serenity.
The weight that had been pressing down on him for days felt lighter, as if it had been lifted, even if only slightly. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the windows.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he had slept without any nightmares or dark whispers chasing him through his dreams. Instead, the night had been quiet — peaceful, even.
As he stretched, he became aware of a subtle but distinct sound coming from the kitchen. Footsteps. Not hurried, but deliberate, steady.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes before sliding out of bed. When he walked into the kitchen, he froze.
There she was — Sage Nagasth.
The sage was just as imposing as yesterday, carrying an undeniable presence.
She moved with a calm purpose, preparing something at the old, rustic counter. Her long, braided hair was tied into a bun, and her red vastra flowed effortlessly as she worked, her back turned to him.
Kael took a deep breath, the air heavy with the scent of spices and herbs.
"Good morning," he said quietly and she turned. Kael rounded the table and touched her feet. When she gave him her blessings, only then did he walked to the small wooden table where a simple meal had been set out — steamed rice, spiced vegetables, and a small bowl of broth.
Kael didn't speak as he sat, waiting for her to take a seat opposite him. The simplicity of the meal was not lost on him. Everything about her seemed to embody simplicity and discipline.
Sage Nagasth joined him and he waited for her to start first. But instead, she joined her hands in a gesture of prayer, offering her thanks to the divine forces for the food before them.
Kael could not join her in that. He had long stopped praying, stopped worshipping.
And when she opened her eyes and looked at him, she knew. She held that same knowing gleam as yesterday but instead of asking or telling him anything, she began to eat in quiet, fluid motions.
He followed, though his mind was racing with a thousand questions.
After a few minutes of eating in silence, Kael couldn't hold back any longer. "Sage," he said hesitantly, breaking the calm of the room. "I know that you were cursed for a misunderstanding. I… I wanted to know more."
There was small pause before she nodded.
"I misunderstood the very ruler of Swarna Mountain," she said, her voice calm but carrying an undertone of quiet acceptance. "And I cursed her for something that, in time, I came to see as trivial. I deserved the consequences that followed."
Kael frowned, confused as something clicked. "Trivial? But… weren't you protecting something ancient, something important? How could that be trivial?"
The sage paused, leaning back. Her eyes were distant for a moment, as though she were seeing something far away — or perhaps something long past. When she spoke again, her tone was heavier, as if the weight of a thousand years pressed on each word.
"It is easy to justify our actions when we believe we are right," she began, her voice steady but thoughtful. "I once thought my cause was the only one that mattered. I believed that the ancient being I protected was of such importance that I could overlook the consequences of my choices. But time, Kael, has a way of revealing truth. And the truth I learned is that even the greatest causes can blind us to what truly matters."
Kael shifted uncomfortably. "But you said you were protecting something ancient. How can that be trivial?"
Sage Nagasth's gaze softened, her eyes meeting his now with a depth that seemed endless, like looking into the stillness of a dark sea. "What I protected was ancient, yes. But in protecting it, I failed to see the suffering my actions caused to those around me, to the land, and to the ruler herself. My focus became so narrow, so consumed by this one thing, that I lost sight of the broader consequences."
Kael leaned forward. "But if it was worth protecting, why would you be cursed for it?"
"There is no curse without reason, Kael," she said softly. "The curse was not just for what I protected, but for how I chose to act. In my arrogance, I imposed suffering on others, blinded by the righteousness of my cause. It took centuries of reflection, of living under that curse, to understand that the true cause of my downfall was not the protection of the ancient, but the way I allowed my convictions to harden into something inflexible, uncompassionate."
She sighed, a sound filled with both wisdom and regret. "Sometimes, we believe that to fight for something greater, we must sacrifice everything in our path, including the lives of those we never considered. I misunderstood the balance of this world, and I cursed a ruler who sought to remind me of that balance."
Kael swallowed, feeling the weight of her words. "And now? Do you regret it?"
"I regret my blindness," Sage Nagasth replied quietly. "But the past is nothing, Kael. What is gone is gone. The only time you should ever think of the past is if it helps guide your actions in the present. Otherwise, it is nothing but a ghost."
Kael blinked, the sage's words swirling in his mind like mist he couldn't quite grasp. "There is nothing in the past." The statement felt almost absurd.
Everything in his life had been defined by what had come before — his pain, his doubts, his sense of self. How could she so easily dismiss the force that shaped him? It was as if she were asking him to abandon the very foundation of his existence.
At that moment, he decided he needed answers. Answers that only someone like Sage Nagasth could give him truthfully. His voice came out firmer than he intended, almost demanding.
"How can there be nothing in the past?"
Her eyes, sharp and clear, held the kind of stillness that Kael had only ever seen in the depths of a forest or at the edge of the sea. There was no rush, no agitation. Only presence.
"The past is nothing because it no longer exists, Kael," she began, her words deliberate, measured. "It is a memory — a shadow cast by a flame long extinguished. An illusion. You give it form, substance, and power by clinging to it. But in truth, the past holds no dominion over the present unless you let it."
"Illusion?" His breath caught in his throat, his frustration now bubbling to the surface. "Was everything that was taken from me an illusion? My mother —" his voice faltered, "my grandmother. You call whatever that happened to them an illusion?"
His words hung in the air, a challenge to the sage's calm demeanor. He expected her to rebuke him or offer some cryptic answer he wouldn't understand, but she simply waited, allowing his emotions to flow out like a river rushing toward an unknown sea.
After a pause, her voice softened but did not lose its edge. "The illusion is not in what happened, Kael. The pain, the loss — they are real. But the illusion lies in how you carry them. You cling to the past as if it is still here, as if it defines you. You have allowed it to become a weight, dragging you deeper into suffering. That is the illusion."
Kael shook his head, disbelief tightening his chest. "But it does define me," he said, his voice low but intense. "I am doing all of this for a reason. Every pain, every suffering has shaped me into who I am. If the past is an illusion, then what's left of me?"
"Do the clouds define the sky?" she asked, her eyes challenging. "Can you grasp a shadow?"
Kael opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words. The analogies disarmed him, leaving him feeling exposed.
She saw the confusion in his eyes, and softened her voice, knowing the weight of what she was asking him to understand. "You see, Kael," she began, "the clouds may fill the sky, obscure it, even bring storms. But when the storm passes, the sky remains. It is not defined by the clouds that drift across it, no matter how fierce they may seem. The clouds are transient. The sky is vast, endless. It is constant."
Kael stared at her, trying to process her words.
"You," she continued, "are like the sky. Your past — your pain, your loss — they are the clouds. They come, they stay for a time, they may even overwhelm you, but they do not define you. You are much larger than the storms of your past."
Kael's hands tightened into fists. "But the pain... it's real. It leaves a mark. It's not something I can just let pass."
"The pain is real," Sage Nagasth agreed. "Just as shadows are real, but can you grasp a shadow? It moves with the light, it changes with the angle. It is there, but the moment you try to hold onto it, it slips through your fingers. Your past, your suffering — it is like that. It exists, but it cannot be held, cannot be changed."
Kael swallowed hard, frustration and understanding clashing inside him. "Then what am I supposed to do? Forget everything?"
"No," she said gently, her voice deep with wisdom. "Not forget. But do not let the past define who you are in this moment. Let it inform you, but not imprison you. If you build your life around shadows, you will never see the light. If you try to claim the wind, it will only escape your grasp. But if you move with it, you will find that it can guide you, not control you."
Kael's heart pounded, the storm inside him not yet settled. He had never thought of his pain this way, as something that wasn't permanent, wasn't the whole of him. It was rather a fortress built out of suffering, each brick laid with memories of loss and heartache, each wall fortified by the belief that his past was the defining aspect of his identity.
And I guess that is what happens when you are forced to grow up young, he mused.
Life had thrown him into the turbulent waters of adulthood before he was ready to swim. The weight of responsibilities had thrust him into a world where he had to navigate grief, fear, and uncertainty. He had learned to survive by wrapping himself in the cloak of his past, convincing himself that his experiences were the only truth he could hold onto.
"What's left of me?" he asked, his eyes down and breathing even. He presses his nails further in his arms.
"You accepted the system to gain the strength to face the darkness, not to relive the past. And the system is not about undoing what has been lost — it is about shaping what is to come. So what's left of you is the present. And you must ask yourself: What's more important? The memory of what was, or the possibility of what could be?"
Kael remained silent, absorbing her words.
The sage noticed the turmoil within him. "Your grandmother's presence may guide you, but the world does not need what was. It needs what is to come. The future is shaped not by holding onto the past, but by understanding what the present moment asks of you. And perhaps, Kael, the greatest way to honor your grandmother is not by bringing her back, but by using what she taught you to create a world she would be proud of."
Anger swirled within him and he looked at the sage who calmly met his storm. "For me, my grandma is my world. I will bring her back." he said, almost defiantly.
Sage Nagasth regarded him with patience. "You may bring her back. This system you've accepted will push you to the brink of what you believe is possible."
"Tell me more about the system, then. Tell me how I can save her."
She watched him closely, her gaze piercing through the frustration in Kael's eyes. She could feel the storm brewing inside him — the clash between his desperate desire for answers and the path of wisdom she was trying to guide him toward. It was a familiar struggle, one she had seen many times before.
Instead of giving him the direct answers he clearly wasn't yet ready to receive, the sage tilted her head slightly and asked, "What do you wish to know, Kael?"
"Everything," he said, his voice sharp with the intensity of his demand. His hands were clenched, his knuckles white. "I need to know everything. About the system. About the deities. About what I've gotten myself into."
Sage Nagasth nodded. "Very well. Let us begin with the Pantheon."