"He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster."
— Friedrich Nietzsche
Story to me, had never been something you simply create. It is to be solved, like a puzzle. With each piece you find, the choices given to the writer are narrowed with progression.
One wouldn't realize when they lose the free will to add whatever in their own story.
"Worst part about writing fantasy is you have to come up with all these creative names!" I grumbled, glancing up at dad sat upon the sofa. He just gave me that look.
"It's four, we are nearing dawn. Humans with a shred of sanity lay down to rest during this hour of darkness" Dad had no business speaking in such profound manner to mock me.
"Oh, thou shall shut up and vanish into thine hour of darkness!" I shot back. This name was getting to me. Four hours straight, and I still had nothing for the goddess.
"You will not sleep till this is done, would you?" He rolled his eyes.
"More like I won't be able to"
"What is the character thou wish to name." He leaned forward with a sigh.
"Stop talking like you're some kind of ancient oracle. It's not helping."
"I might as well be"
"Whatever well… it's this Goddess. She holds power, loves her children and well, she's merciful to say the least unless you've done something unforgivable. She doesn't really appear in the novel many times but I need a name for characters to call upon as they worship her."
Dad thought hard, and to my surprise, he didn't give a half-hearted suggestion just to humour me. When he spoke, it was as if he'd considered it carefully.
Or perhaps he had simply wanted me to sleep and shut the lights.
"Eloven?" He looked away as he said the name.
"…dad." I did not know if he was being serious.
He looked back at me. "Yeah, Eloven. Sounds mystical, right?" He chuckled, and it hit me.
"That's Mom's name!" I said, still trying to figure out if he was serious.
"Yeah so? Do you hate it?" His gaze fixed upon me.
"No, I mean… okay. Fine whatever." Even so I did not hate the name, it sounded perfect for a goddess.
"Its Eloven then." He smiled, perhaps he really did want me to shut the lights off and sleep before sunrise.
"Yep, I'll give you the credit. When this book becomes a world class masterpiece and in an interview they ask me, oh what motivated you for such creative, unique and captivating name? I would tell them how we came up with this together at four a.m. hehe." I could genuinely imagine it.
"You could dream about it after you go to sleep too my child" his tone sarcastic.
"Its not a dream its a prophecy"
"Well, thank you, oh wise sage, and good night," he teased and gave a little wave, already drifting off as he mumbled, "Prophecy or not, it better get you to sleep."
Unfortunate I must say, that thing carried my mother's name.
…
In my fourteen lives, Theron had been one of the characters I least interacted with. He was one of the main characters however, his disdain for Lucian made me keep my distance.
Theron born out of a witch—had his divinity taken away by the Goddess, while Lucian's divinity had made him into the saint in the empire. It seemed natural for them to be at odds.
Real Lucian in the original story refused the emperor's offer outright when Theron was mentioned.
This one particular change had never occurred in fourteen times this story has been played before me, because even I myself, could never bring myself to support Theron.
"Your Holiness, please call upon us if you require anything." They said, dropping me by my chamber in the palace.
I'd hoped for a moment to cross paths with Theron, but any chance of meeting him was crowded out by the hundreds of palace believers eager for a mere glimpse of me.
After sending those two priests to manage the nobles' endless requests, I entered my quarters.
One no less grand than my own in the temple, it was evident I would be treated well.
Eloven had a cult like following, and as her most favored representative, they worshipped me no less.
Tonight, was not one to sleep. I was to be visited by a rather, young foe.
The clock slipped past two a.m. It was time. My breath on hold, ears prepared to hear faintest noise. Dangerous, one wrong move and—I felt it.
The curtain fluttered. Without wind. My eyes shut, feigning sleep. He was there. the smell of blood—I sensed it.
One second delay and I would be seeing the sapphire mirror again—He was closing in, step after step.
He leaned in and it was time—I sprang, he lunged.
In a split second—his knife inch away from piercing me. I activated the divine barrier upon my body, and his knife dissolved. My heart nearly pounded out of my chest.
It was Nyx—Theron's loyal assassin, before I blinked, I heard him clicking his tongue and he was gone.
The poison laced knife meant to paralyze me. Theron did this assassination attempt in each life during my visit to the palace regarding emperor's letter.
I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. No matter how many times I'd faced death, it never ceased to be the one thing I could never bear to meet again.
I rang the bell, "Water." No one came. "Have the palace servants gotten lazier–" My words cut off as the door burst open, my heart leaping painfully in my chest. One shock after another. My priest stumbled in with a few guards and servants in tow.
"ARE YOU SAFE YOUR HOLINESS!?" He yelled from barely a meter away.
"Ye- before I could answer, "THE GUARDS SUSPECTED SOMEBODY ENTERED YOUR CHAMBER, thank goodness, thank Goddess." He dropped on his knees, hands clasped together. Visibly shaken.
"Had it been an actual assassin, what would we…" The guards stood him up, as he blankly stared into my eyes.
"There… was no assassin. You can rest easy." I comforted, looking away unable to meet their eye.
It to this life shocked me how important of a figure Lucian was.
Stupid—I know. I wrote him myself then why? Even after all this time inhabiting his body, I couldn't bring myself to think of me as Lucian. I was Dante. Always Dante.
Although I had lived as Lucian for more than a millennium, and as Dante a bit under twenty. It never convinced me.
Each time I possessed Lucian, each time I looked in the mirror, each time I looked towards past actions of Lucian before I reincarnated, it told me, no, it… made it clear. I, Dante was never like Lucian.
Not even by mistake.
Lucian belonged here, to set things right and play his role of a martyr. Become saint to these people, I did not.
I belonged on Earth. I belonged with my family, my friends. I'd made promises—endless ones I wanted to keep.
I was meant to have students, to teach them how to write, to drink wine with my father and bicker over who would leave the tip.
I had a degree to finish, a future to build. Perhaps even a family of my own one day, a wedding, a child.
And I had a million stories to tell the world, a billion people to be loved by—not as a saint, but as a writer, and before all else, not as Lucian. As Dante.
This time, I could not afford to die. Not until I had set Theron on the throne, made him a tyrant, and stirred enough chaos for Eloven to ascend and interfere herself.
If all else failed, if she still denied me freedom—I would bring my rebellion to her doorstep. I would do what no mortal dared.
I would kill the Goddess.
And once I returned, I would fulfill that promise. I'd tell the world, finally, how my father and I, half-asleep at four a.m., stumbled upon the name of the Goddess.
I'd share that small, silly story—one last memory that felt like home.