The Higher Plain Ch 11: Stories and Regrets!

(Krelzor)

The silence between us stretched as Faylina scanned the destruction. Her golden eyes—now tear-filled—darted across what had once been my father's fields, my home, and, well, everything else. Massive craters pocked the land like the world's worst acne, flattened forests sprawled out like giant pancakes, and chunks of earth hung precariously in strange places where her massive feet must have stepped.

I didn't say a word. What could I say?

"Did I... do this?" Faylina finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oh, boy.

I opened my mouth, ready to blurt out some comforting lie, but then closed it again. She was staring at me, big blue eyes filled with guilt and—oh no—tears. If I said something too harsh, she'd probably break down. And if I lied? Well, she seemed like the type who'd see through it and break down anyway.

So I cleared my throat. "Uh... yeah. Yeah, you kind of did."

Her shoulders slumped, and I immediately regretted being honest. "But!" I added, holding up my hands. "But, like, you didn't mean to. And that's gotta count for something, right? I mean, nobody hands out a punishment for an accident. Well... except my dad when I broke the plow that one time, but that's not important. The point is—"

"I shouldn't have come here," she interrupted, her voice cracking. "My father was right. And Gorax—he's, um, some guy back home—he was right too. I should've stayed in the sky realm."

"Aw, come on," I said, trying to force a smile even as I glanced over at my ruined house. "It's not that bad."

She gave me a look that screamed, Really?

I sighed. "Okay, fine. It's pretty bad. But look, what's done is done. You're here now, and we can't go back and un-crater the place, so let's just... I don't know, deal with it?"

She sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "You're just saying that because you don't want me to cry."

"Guilty as charged," I admitted, throwing my hands up. "But it's also true. Crying's not gonna fill in those craters or unflatten the forest, right?"

Her lips twitched, almost like she wanted to smile but was too sad to pull it off.

I rubbed the back of my neck, looking at my barely-standing house. "Tell you what. Wait here."

I jogged over to the house—or what was left of it—and managed to salvage two old chairs from the rubble. One had a wobbly leg, but it'd have to do. I carried them back to where Faylina stood, still looking miserable.

"Here," I said, setting the chairs down and plopping into one. "Sit. Let's talk this out."

She hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering herself into the other chair. The thing creaked alarmingly under her weight, but it held.

"So," I said, leaning back and crossing my arms. "Why'd you come down here if you weren't supposed to?"

Her gaze dropped to the ground, and she fiddled with the hem of her dress. "I... I always wanted to meet a human."

I blinked. "Really? Why?"

She looked up, her eyes wide with something that might've been wonder. "Because humans are amazing."

I snorted. "You've been talking to the wrong people."

"No, really!" she said, leaning forward. "There's this story we tell in the higher realm. A long time ago, there was this terrible beast called the Vorlith. It was this great monster of darkness that ravaged both of our worlds. Xylarions—my people—and humans worked together to stop it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Humans and Xylarions? Together? You mean tiny folks like me and... well, people like you?"

She nodded earnestly. "Yes! The humans built a weapon—a powerful one. They said it could destroy entire armies with a single blow. With that weapon, they managed to split the Vorlith's core into four pieces. That's the only reason our worlds survived."

I leaned back, trying to imagine it. Humans, working alongside literal Titans to take down some apocalyptic monster? Yeah, no. Didn't sound real. "And you believe this story?"

"I did," she said, her voice soft. "I thought humans were incredible—so clever, so brave. But now... after what I've done..."

She trailed off, looking at the destruction around us.

"Hey," I said, leaning forward. "You didn't destroy my farm on purpose. You didn't know this would happen. It's not like you stepped on my house for fun."

Her lips twitched again, this time closer to a smile. "You're right. I didn't know. But... if the stories are true, then humans should've been able to handle this." She gestured to the ruined landscape. "You should've been able to stop me."

"Okay, first of all," I said, pointing a finger at her, "you were massive. Like, mountain-sized. I don't care how clever or brave humans are—there's no stopping someone like that without some kind of divine intervention."

She tilted her head, considering this. "I suppose you have a point."

"Second of all," I continued, "just because humans can't stop a Titan doesn't mean we're not clever or brave. It just means we're... uh, realistic?"

She finally smiled—a small, sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Maybe. But it's hard to believe the stories when I see how much damage I've caused."

"Hey, I'll let you in on a little secret," I said, leaning closer. "Humans don't always believe the stories about ourselves either."

That got a small laugh out of her, and I grinned. "There you go. See? You're not the only one questioning things."

She looked at me, her golden eyes softening. "Thanks, Krelzor. You're... not what I expected."

I raised an eyebrow. "What, you thought all humans were seven feet tall and could wield magic swords?"

She giggled. "Something like that."

"Well, sorry to disappoint," I said, leaning back with a mock-serious expression. "You got me instead. But hey, I'm not that bad, right?"

Her smile widened, and for the first time since she'd shrunk down to human size, she looked... okay.

And for some reason, that felt like a victory.