237: The Reaper’s Wish (Part Three)

A torrent of emotions assaulted Vir as his predecessor stepped through the Ash Gate into the City of the Gods. Emotions that stemmed as much from Ekanai as it did from himself.

From Ekanai, Vir felt the elation one can only feel after having finally taken the last step of a decades-long journey, along with the relief—and regret—that accompanies it. He felt longing for the Demon Realm, a faint sliver of hope that, when this was all over, he might be able to return home. And he felt sad that his journey might soon be at an end.

Vir’s own emotions took a different turn. The black spires of Mahādi served to remind him of Ashani and his bitter failure. He thought of her cloistered within Janak’s home, hibernating her life away. Did she hold out hope that Vir would come back for her?

How could she? Vir thought. She knew exactly how unlikely that proposition was.

And yet, Vir would find a way. He’d named Shan to remind him of that promise. Of the great debt he’d owed her. It was why Vir was so gutted that Saunak hadn’t proven entirely trustworthy. If only he had, they might’ve worked together to devise a way back. To allow her to escape that horrible place.

Ekanai took a step. His knees immediately buckled. Vir knew exactly what he was going through, even though the memory suppressed the pain the demon felt.

Prana Poisoning was one of the worst ways to go. Vir could almost feel the prana overloading Ekanai’s blood.

And yet, despite the pain, Ekanai soldiered on. He never once considered retreating through the Ash Gate behind him. If he did, he’d be forever doomed to wander aimlessly upon the realms. Only by progressing could he fulfill his purpose. Or find his purpose, Vir realized.

It’s not blind zeal that drives him. It’s… a desire for his life to have had meaning.

Vir understood then, in that moment, that through Ekanai’s entire life, it was this desire to uncover his purpose that drove him. A desire that was painfully relatable.

It wasn’t glory or fame or riches. Ekanai cared nothing for his titles. He’d never exploited his status as the Akh Nara, unlike some who’d preceded him.

No, Ekanai cared about one thing and one thing only—that, when his time in the realms was over, that he’d have found his calling.

The demon fought off Ash Wolves and Phantomblades, squashing dozens at once with Balancer of Scales. With Clarity and Yuma’s Embrace, it wasn’t even a contest. Ekanai would not be harmed. Not by beasts, anyway.

Vir watched as the demon fell to his knees. A Blader skewered his chest from behind. Ekanai saw it coming, but allowed it to pierce him. Healing injuries wasn’t difficult. Stopping Prana Poisoning was.

Why, though? Surely he knew this would happen? Vir wondered, before the truth dawned upon him.

None of the others ever made it this far…

Ekanai had been the first to venture into the Mahādi Realm. Which meant Vir’s feat—entering, and surviving—had been far beyond anything they’d managed. He’d relied on them. On their hard-won experiences to survive. Even then, it was only thanks to Ashani’s pranites and the collective effort of Ekanai, Shardul, Parai, Jalendra, and Narak that had allowed him to survive.

The realization hit Vir like a raging Garga. Whether or not he despised Ekanai, Vir had benefitted directly from his life experience.

Ekanai struggled to stay conscious, but against the sheer prana density, his sight dimmed, and he collapsed.

As the demon’s vision went dark one final time, just before the Ash Beasts tore into him, what he felt was not anger, or frustration, or even regret.

It was a profound, bottomless loneliness, and a sincere, earnest wish to be held by someone in his final moments. To be consoled… and loved.

The memory faded, leaving Vir alone in a strange space he’d ever seen before. He sat cross-legged in a green grassy meadow in the middle of a forest.

Another of Ekanai’s memories? But no, it wasn’t.

Vir recognized it immediately—it was the Godshollow.

He was alone, though he knew he was still in his mind. The world possessed a hazy, dreamlike quality to it. He felt comforted by the Godshollow’s sturdy presence.

Birds chirped merrily, and a gentle breeze ruffled the ferns and shrubs that blanketed the forest floor. Light filtered through an opening in the canopy, its rays playing upon the untouched dirt.

This… is my mindscape? No way!

Vir’s excitement soared at the thought. Cirayus had mentioned that upon fully opening the Foundation Chakra, Vir would gain access to a mindscape—a personal sanctuary where one could meditate. A place where hours or sometimes even days could pass with only moments passing in the real world.

It was primarily useful for meditation, contemplation, and, upon opening the later chakras, even training. Each Chakra expanded the mindscape, allowing for increasingly complex scenarios.

Vir stood up and walked to the edge of the meadow. As he neared the ancient trunks, he felt a pressure push back on him, preventing him from venturing into the ‘forest’, which he intuitively understood wasn’t actually there. This was all an illusion, and his mindscape couldn’t support anymore.

That was all well. Vir gazed up at the enormous trees, wondering in amazement. How much had he yearned for this breakthrough, these past months?

It occurred to him now that he might’ve had an easier time opening the Foundation Chakra if he’d used the Godshollow as the basis for stability instead of the mountains as Cirayus had taught him. It was much closer and more real to him than any peak had ever been. That the mindscape took the form of the Godshollow only proved it.

Was this how Cirayus maintained his sanity? Was he escaping into a mindscape of his own, similar to how I fled into the Shadow Realm?

Vir had initially pitied the giant, not having such a place to retreat into. Now, however, he envied him. Given a choice between total blackness and a beautiful, crisp forest or something analogous, there wasn’t even a contest.

Vir returned to the middle of the pristine meadow and sat crosslegged, allowing his eyes to defocus as he thought about the memories he’d been shown.

He now had a hunch about what had triggered it. The key was Ekanai.

For so long, Vir had rejected the demon’s existence. As Maiya had somehow known, he’d feared the demon. Feared that he’d take over. That he’d harm Maiya. That he’d commit atrocities with Vir’s body, and that Vir would be unable to lift a finger to stop him.

The Ekanai Vir knew was a ruthless killing machine. More at home in the Ashen Realm standing on a pile of corpses than a real, living being with hopes and dreams.

Vir knew now that this couldn’t have been further from the truth. Shardul had once said that with each reincarnation, his identity as the Primordial degraded. Memories from past lives became fragmented. Diluted, but also warped.

The Ekanai that had made it through that process was a horribly broken, distorted version of the real being.

The demon didn’t shun familial ties because he thought them dead weight—Vir knew that now. He’d felt Ekanai’s thoughts. The demon had never allowed himself to grow close to anyone because he knew just how dangerous it’d be for them.

He’d isolated himself to protect them. To shield them from those who’d see harm come to the Akh Nara. Ekanai was—or had been—a gentle soul at his core. Someone who wished to shoulder all the burden of the Akh Nara alone. A demon whose only wish was to find some purpose in his long life. To fulfill his destiny, so he could return to his clan with his head held up high.

His course required him to kill, and he took on that burden without complaint. But he never once enjoyed it.

I see…

The Ekanai that had manifested wasn’t real. Whatever contraption had transported him to the underground world with its floating islands and its caves had used Vir’s own memories of Ekanai to create a caricature of the demon.

He isn’t real. He’s a figment of my mind. None of it is real.

Vir gulped at that. Then what of Maiya? What of the moments they’d shared together? What of her bravery and sacrifice? Was that also a fabrication? She felt so real!

He didn’t want to believe all of this had been a hallucination. He couldn’t. Even knowing Ekanai wasn’t real didn’t reduce the threat. Vir had bled when attacked. Worse, his very soul had been siphoned. The consequences were real.

Except now, Vir knew he had nothing to fear. For if Ekanai was generated from his mind, then Vir suspected the Ekanai he’d face in light of these revelations would be quite different. Thanks to the new knowledge he’d obtained.

Knowledge he’d gained by restoring his memories of Ekanai with the power of the Foundation Chakra.

Vir stood, leaves crunching softly under him. While his predecessors hadn’t saved him—and wouldn’t, ever again—he’d nonetheless gained something valuable from these memories. He’d understood the person Ekanai was. The person he strove to be. And in the process, Vir understood himself.

Because Vir was Ekanai in a previous life. The demon was as much a part of him as Shardul, Parai, and the others. For the very first time, Vir could accept that. Accept—and embrace.

“You failed so close to your goal. But where you failed, I will succeed. I will learn from your mistakes, and I will complete your quest. I will honor those who have blazed the trail by seeing it to its completion.”

Vir closed his eyes and exited the mindscape. Not as a scared, panicking demon, but a master of the Foundation Chakra. At peace with himself.