Seventh I: The Stag Stood, Resplendent

  Eighteenth Day of the Fifth Month, 874 AD.

  The Riverroad, Western Nordicos, Klironomea.

  Blood. Death. A sky painted in hues of purple and gold. A stag resplendent, metallic, cold.

  A mountain crumbled into the sea, to be swallowed by the waves. The stag watched, just as it had when the forests had been swallowed by the waves. The waters were bloody, then verdant.

  There was no warmth in this place. There was no choice for those that the stag's gaze fell upon, for it was the force of willpower that moulded the world to its design. There was no warmth here.

  The stag stood, resplendent, unflinching, cold. Antlers of starlight gave way to those of gold, all warmth and brightness sapped to be transmuted into more of the raw willpower that such unending designs required.

  The stag rose, resplendent, and Seventh wondered if it realised it was killing itself. It couldn't go on like this, not forever. Soon there would be nothing left of the world to turn into willpower, nothing left to be taken by the waters of the deluge, and the stag would wither and fade.

  They rose from the ground, finding themselves able to float this strange hazy world, and hovered a few metres above the roiling waters.

  "What is this place?"

  They whispered the question more to themselves than anything else, and continued looking around.

  There was an isle of bones far, far to the north. Its coming was death, unending and cruel. They stared at the island.

  The island stared back at them. Seventh looked away, and back to the stag.

  "What are you?"

  The stag huffed out a breath, almost as though in derision, and tilted its head to look up at that purple and gold sky. Seventh followed its gaze, but saw nothing besides a hundred hues of those two most regal colours.

  The island stared at them. Seventh didn't like it, not one bit.

  There were fields to the east, barely bloodied and untouched by the unending waters. The stag's gaze turned to fall upon them, and Seventh knew that they would not remain that way for long.

  The stag was willpower absolute. It was the desire to reshape the world given form.

  Perhaps the only thing that could erode the stag were the waters, but they had long since decided that the stag should reign. The island stared at them. The island called for them. It wanted their attention.

  The stag's head turned, pausing in its goals only for a moment in which it too stared at them, an expression of pity on its face. For the briefest of moments it bowed his head to them, the gesture filling Seventh with the desire to face down this island, to know its weaknesses, and to survive in this harsh place. This was no place for the living such as them.

  There was a flash of light from the holy place to the east, beyond the fields, and for a moment the island recoiled. Only for a moment, however. The island still called to them.

  The skies bled and wept, shades of goldenrod and harvest-gold falling and being swallowed by the shifting sea. The skies dissipated into the waters, turning them a cold and unfeeling grey.

  Seventh saw specks of candlelight upon the stag where the golden skies had fallen upon its hide, and though they knew to look away they could not help but be spellbound by its resplendence. The stag did not ask if its ambitions were acceptable, it acted upon them; its own judgement was the only authority it subjected itself to, all else be damned.

  It was 'regal' like the waters were 'vast'. An understatement for traits too excessive to be defined by words.

  They knew them, the stag and the waters. They knew them, but Seventh did not know why. Could not understand.

  The island knew them as well. It knew all of them, save perhaps the stag.

  A figure rose and it was the sea, waters of grey and black roiling to take the shape of a winged man, and knelt before the stag. It knelt, and the stag was placated in its will.

  There should have been other holy places, places where the light did force back the island, but they were long gone. All that remained were the ones where ocean met land, the one to the east, and the one in the now-flooded woods.

  As for the ones to the far west... that one had been gone for a very, very long time.

  Mulberry and orchid and heliotrope fell from the sky, and inky blackness all that remained of the once regal gold and purple skies. The stag's antlers were stained, Tyrian purple over old gold, and the lands beneath the waters beheld it as their safety, their security.

  They gave no heed to the fact that it was the stag which had bid them drown beneath his vision, for to deny the stag was to embrace that cruel island of death and bone.

  There was no justice, save that which came from the stag. There was no wisdom, save that borne on the waters. There was no strength, saved what the two of them forged between them.

  The waters and the stag readied themselves, the blinding light from the holy place to the east at their backs, and turned to look at the island once more.

  Seventh stepped forwards alongside them. The waters moved close, a hand raised as though to comfort, but did not touch them. The stag stood, resplendent and cold, and Seventh wondered if it knew that it was slowly killing itself. They wondered if it would have mattered to the stag even if it did know, for theirs was a will beyond life and death; theirs was the spirit of humanity distilled into its most brilliant and terrible form. Death was of no consideration to such a creature.

  Did the waters know that the stag was killing itself? Did the island? How could they, Seventh thought to themself, when the two of them were so utterly apart from the stag? The waters, ageless and cyclical, could not possibly understand the death of the will. Nor could the island, for Seventh did not think it truly had a will at all; the island was a creature of instinct and narrow thought-lines, and it was sure to run down the same paths it had always gone down.

  How many more times would this cycle repeat, they wondered? How many more times would the waters beat the island back, spending the will of one it called ally unknowingly? Maybe it did know, and wouldn't that just be cruel? Was it worse to keep the cycle going, to ensure the land would live only to have it suffer again? Would it be kinder to simply let it die, to let it sleep and rest, to allow it some peace?

  They didn't know, but that was okay. It was never going to be their choice to make anyway.

  The stag stood, resplendent, and this time it was Seventh who looked at it with pity. It was so sure it was right, so forceful in will to make all believe it, but it would collapse in on itself all the same. Nobody without was going to be able to break it, certainly not, but the true threat would lie within.

  The stag would consume itself in its hunger. It was consuming itself even now, though it didn't realise it. It was dying.

  The stag stood there, resplendent, drained, cold.

  The stag was cold, and Seventh feared it might burn down the world just to feel its warmth.

  A voice called out. A whisper carried on the wind. It was not of the stag, nor the waters, nor the light nor Seventh themself.

  It sounded pained. Fractured.

  Silent.

  "I want to go home."

  They found themselves coming back to with a start, a violent jerk wracking them as they all but threw themselves forwards from their sitting position only to be stopped when they felt a pair of hands steady them.

  "Woah, hey, are you feeling alright? Did that one take it out of you a bit?"

  They grounded themselves with Rhema's voice, the feeling of his hands, and nodded. The dreaming was behind them for now, and the physical world lay ahead. They were in control here. There was nothing to fear here.

  They let out a shuddering breath, met their friend's concerned gaze, then smiled.

  "Yeah, yeah, I'm good. That one was a bit intense. I've not had one that intense in a while; it felt more like the nightmares I used to have it did the scrying we used to do together."

  Their friend winced.

  "That bad, is it? Future isn't looking good?"

  Seventh shuddered out another breath.

  "I don't- I'm not sure. It's always been a matter of metaphors and codes, but this time felt different. It felt... familiar. Like I knew what everything was supposed to represent, but had forgotten. I don't know."

  Rhema pursed his lips and furrowed his brows.

  "You feel up for sharing what you saw?"

  They nodded and steadied themselves, leaning back to settle flush against Rhema's chest.

  "There was a stag that commanded the seas, and swept them over half of the world. It was- it was willpower incarnate, and it was so so cold.

  "There was a bright light from the east, brilliant but just as cold as the stag was. The sky was purple, and the stag had golden antlers. I knew him, somehow. I knew him."

  They felt Rhema nod above them, and turned their head to view him better without moving from their position of comfort.

  "You said the sea was there as well?"

  They nodded. They had a little idea of what that could mean.

  "Yeah. The stag that commanded the seas. I was thinking then that maybe the seas were supposed to be Teleytaios? I watched a mountain crumble into the water, and saw a forest that had already been submerged, so I thought that lined up with Teleytaios' conquests so far."

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  Rhema nodded thoughtfully.

  "Owkrestos is known for being blanketed in forests, Nordicos is nestled into the southern Archic mountains, and Teleytaios is known for being the most maritime kingdom out of the Heptarchy."

  "There were fields as well, east of the mountains."

  Rhema hummed.

  "That would line up with the rest of the kingdoms, especially Licotemos. But if the stag commanded the waters, then that would mean-"

  "Yes, it would. But then the water took the form of a man and stood alongside him. I don't know what that could mean, save- well, my mentor. But that's it. Seeing as my mentor doesn't serve your brother, that cast doubt on my other ideas. There's something here that I'm missing, I just don't know what."

  Rhema looked puzzled for a moment, and perhaps as though he'd figured something out, but if he had he mostly kept it to himself.

  "Maybe- no, no, I don't think so. Probably not. Was there anything else?"

  They made to nod, to continue, but even when they thought about the island it was death and it was cruel and it was malice and it wanted something so very badly from them they found themselves unable to talk on the topic of the island.

  "No," they lied, "I think that was it."

  They smiled again at Rhema, their breathing finally evening out. Lying to him didn't feel good, but they weren't ready to discuss what they had seen yet. They weren't planning on keeping him in the dark forever of course, in fact they weren't planning on keeping this from him for that long, just for a little while. They'd apologise to him when they told him what else they had seen, of course. They just needed a little more time to get their head in order first.

  "Well," Rhema started, wrapping his arms around Seventh and pulling them down so that they were lying atop Rhema on the bed, "I think that's enough thinking for now. We'll return to this topic when we wake up?"

  Seventh nodded, already feeling drowsy, and felt their eyelids fluttering closed.

  "Yeah, that sounds good. I think I have to meet with your brother later anyway, so that might give me a few ideas as to what that vision meant. It felt important, Rhema. More important than most of them did. Than most of them do."

  "I'm just happy that you have a little more control over them now than you used to. Makes things easier on you, when it's more in your control."

  They laughed quietly and softly into Rhema's chest.

  "Tell me about it. How long was I in there this time?"

  Rhema hummed to himself for a moment before answering.

  "I'd say four hours, maybe five. We started just after eating our evening meal, and it's quite late now. Do you want me to be there when you meet with my brother? I know you're a bit... cautious, of him at the moment."

  They thought about it for a second, then shook their head a little from their half-asleep position. It was nice of Rhema to offer, since they were admittedly feeling a little spooked given the warning that their mentor had offered them with regards to the king, but they didn't feel the need to put Rhema in that awkward position if the meeting did go wrong.

  "Nah, it'll be alright. He means well."

  Rhema chuckled a little at that, and Seventh felt the vibrations run through them as Rhema spoke.

  "That he does. Get some rest, Sev. It's late enough as is."

  They smiled to themselves as they settled in for a quiet slumber. Their mentor could say all they wanted about how they shouldn't grow so close to humans, but Rhema was special to them. Knowing Rhema as well as they did, they couldn't help but be amused and perhaps a little offended by the knowledge that Rhema was still seen by many to be a calloused and bloodthirsty butcher, or perhaps an imbecilic moron who'd squandered his only chance of being king.

  How could Rhema possibly be a violent murderer or an idiot when he was holding Seventh so gently and carefully? How could they not trust Rhema when he made them feel so much safer and happier than anyone else they'd met in their entire life?

  Seventh was happy when they were here, and that made for a damn good sleep.

  Meeting with the king was not so comfortable an experience for the young seer. Lykourgos had always been self-assured, even in the face of death, and his fight against the Axeknights of Morna had certainly done very little to dissuade the royal of the notion that he was in possession of plenty of talent and skill.

  Maybe the young king was even right to think so, but that meant that when it came to matters such as this the monarch was unable to see how little he understood, never mind his studying and theories about the mystical nature of the world.

  "I will not scry for you, your Grace. Scrying is something I have been told not to do more than once by my mentor."

  Lykourgos raised an eyebrow at them.

  "I don't recall you following his rules overmuch. He certainly didn't seem to think you did."

  Seventh grit their teeth. Knowing that their mentor was talking about them behind their back was not pleasant, even if they knew that the man wouldn't have meant it in a bad way whatsoever.

  "It is not just that, your Grace. I tend only to scry when around those whom I feel comfortable around."

  "You do not feel comfortable around me?"

  The words were not meant in that way, but it was the truth nonetheless. Lykourgos was nice, and he was capable of being kind, but he was also hard and uncompromising in a way that most were not.

  "If I said it were the truth, your Grace? Would that be an insult?"

  The monarch, to his credit, did not react poorly to that.

  "Only if you meant it as one. If not, then I apologise. I understand that you might not trust we who wear armour, given what happened with Ser Aenethar, but-"

  Seventh cut the king off.

  "Do not speak of what happened to me. Please. I need few reminders of how little I trust soldiers anymore."

  Soldiers wearing steel, soldiers wearing crowns, they were still soldiers at the end of the day. He wasn't as uncomfortable around Lykourgos as he was around actual knights, such as Ser Romanos, but he was certainly less comfortable with the soldier-king than he was with those who did not make soldiery their life.

  Rhema didn't. Rhema was so much more than a soldier. It seemed ironic that, for all the promise the elder brother showed, it was he that should end up little more than a suit of armour and a crown.

  "I do not exactly feel comfortable around you, your Grace. Your spirit is..."

  The king raised an eyebrow, and Seventh noticed the slightest notch above one of his eyes where the assassin's blade had nearly found purchase outside some castle in the south of Teleytaios during the succession crisis.

  That had been the Cult of the Choir as well. So had the attempt on the king's life in Stagspring.

  Seventh was not the only one here who had been targeted by the Cult of the Choir, and though it was important to remember that they had gone through so much more at their hands than the king had.

  "My spirit is?"

  "Intimidating, your Grace. Wilderness hidden beneath a wall of stone. You act as the rational ruler, as the reasonable voice, but within your heart and mind dwells the same wilderness that possesses your brother and drove your sister to madness in her last days.

  "It's in you as well, your Grace. Hidden but still there, and so much stronger and more controlled than that of Rhema. If you were to be pushed too far, if you were to push yourself too far, the results would be catastrophic."

  The king made a noise of discontent, their face taking on the visage of someone who'd just been told a very unpleasant truth and yet was attempting to remain cordial.

  "Well, despite your apparent distaste for me, I'm at least glad to know you're worried for my health and sanity."

  Seventh nodded, glad to at least have this neutral ground between them on which to stand.

  "If you were to lose yourself then the results for those around you would be... could be... disastrous. Perhaps violent. I would not wish anyone to live around an absolute monarch who sees his word as law and has been driven mad by stress or grief."

  Lykourgos didn't look happy at those words, not happy at all, but to his credit he simply nodded with gritted teeth.

  "I will take your word in good faith, Seer. I will ask, not as a command, but as a request, that you take a less argumentative tone. I'm not trying to dictate what you should or should not do, I was only asking why you would not do it. Aside from your distaste of me, you mentioned that you were able to perform such acts in the company of those you are comfortable around. that implies that there is another reason as to why you will not perform these actions."

  There was, of course. Their mentor had given them more than one reason that they should not partake in scrying too much, had claimed that even he did not truly understand how it worked, but above all it simply... well, it was hard to explain. They attempted to put it into words for the sake of the king before them, and to avoid antagonising him any more than they already had.

  "I am lighting a candle in a dark abyss, your Grace. It illuminates that which the light shines upon, but it also marks me as a target for darker creatures. Darker things. And besides, your Grace, there are some things that it is better for a man not to know."

  The king waved a hand in front of his face, not quite dismissive but certainly close.

  "Whatever it is that can target you, there will be a way to kill it. There always is."

  They felt a kernel of anger inside them, building on the distrust that their master had sown within them.

  "I'm asking you to stop pushing, your Grace. Please. There are some things that are better to be left unknown."

  It was the truth. They'd seen more than one thing about the king before now, and that was just the ones they could recognise, but of those recognisable moments there were more than a few negative connotations.

  But still, the man pressed on. Warnings would not work here.

  "I need to know all of it! How else can I determine whether or not it was better left unknown?!"

  "Fine," they snapped out, a small part of them already telling them that this was a bad idea, "you want the truth? You're going to be miserable.

  "I mean it. Truly miserable. Whichever path you take for your marriage, you will be miserable; should you marry for politics, you will always be tormented by the visage of the man you love and have never once laid with. Should you marry for love, your line will end with you and your kingdom will tear itself apart in a succession crisis that makes the one you earned your first throne in look paltry in comparison.

  "You wanted the truth, and I have given it to you. You are fundamentally unable to love whomever it is you will marry, for you have already married yourself to duty and as such will never allow yourself a marriage without a child. The foreign king will not be yours, and that knowledge will hang over you and whomever you take to wife like a storm cloud.

  "I cannot tell you of your wars, because I do not see that which I want to see, which other bid me to see. I only see what appears to me. You are a creature of control, Lykourgos, but this is not something any man could hope to keep collared and leashed.

  "These are dreams, and yours have long since been consumed by ambition."

  Seventh met the king's eyes for a moment, and then looked away. They did not know what they had hoped to find in those eyes, but the roiling fear and anger was not it.

  There was silence for a few moments as Seventh feared whatever the retaliation of the most powerful man on the continent would be, for both of them now knew that Seventh had angered someone they had only just claimed to know was volatile and capable of great violence, but instead of any punishment the king just nodded once at them with that thunderous look still on his face.

  "Your point has been made, Seer. Don't let me keep you here any longer than necessary."

  They managed a quick bow and a quiet "Your Grace" by means of parting, and then all but bolted from the room.

  "Huh. You sure do have a thing for saying the wrong thing to authority figures, don't you?"

  They buried their face into their arms and let out a quiet, frustrated scream.

  "I can't believe I said that to your brother. He reminded me too much of my mentor, his face all harsh and cold. I'm sorry Rhema, I didn't mean to hurt your brother like that, I promise, but it just-"

  Their friend patted them on the shoulder gently.

  "Hey, I know you didn't. You're like me, Sev; we're both utterly incapable of basic social interactions."

  That got a snort out of them at least.

  "You're not angry at me? I said some hurtful stuff to your brother, and I know how much you care about him. If it had been anyone but me that had said that to him, then-"

  Rhema shrugged.

  "They'd be dead by now, or at least injured, I know. I'm not thrilled about what was said, of course, but I also know you, Sev. You don't just say stuff to be hurtful. You were already worried about him pushing you too far, and got yourself worked up about it as a result. I'll talk to my brother later and see how he's doing, alright? Worst comes to worst and you'll have to apologise to him. I'll be there when it happens, of course. It's probably better to make sure that the two of you aren't caught up in that sort of discussion again anytime soon, about the scrying I mean, but given what you said I don't think my brother will be trying anytime soon. He can be a stubborn fucker when he wants to be, doubly so if he thinks he's been slighted.

  "I'll work on making sure he's alright and apologise for you, if you'd like?"

  Seventh nodded, feeling drained now that the adrenaline had left them.

  "Yeah. Yes, that would be good- more than good, thank you."

  Rhema waved away their concerns with a lazy motion of the hand.

  "Nah, don't worry about it. I care about you, and I care about him. I've still gotta keep the two of you from getting into anymore spats, but that can't be too hard; you've set your boundaries with him, and you know what buttons not to push on my brother now. I think things will go fine from here. What's on the agenda for you now?"

  "You mean other than burying myself under a blanket and pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist?"

  "Yeah, apart from that."

  They huffed out a half-laugh half-sigh.

  "Nothing much, all told. There's nowhere nearby I really want to visit at the moment, nowhere safe anyway. Besides, I don't want to push your brother any further by moving too far from his reach and, even worse, dragging you with me."

  Rhema chuckled a little.

  "So you're just gonna stay here at the moment then?"

  "Yeah, I think so."

  Their friend nodded at them with an easy smile on their face.

  "That's fair enough I guess. I'm gonna swing by a few of the armsmen later, see about getting some sparring in. Feel free to come by and watch."

  They nodded again. That didn't sound too bad, to be honest. Besides, Rhema would be there, it would be safe.

  "Sure. Think you'd be able to come back here and grab me first so I don't miss anything?"

  That got another laugh from Rhema.

  "Sure, I don't mind that. Try and cool off a little for now, Sev. I'll go talk to my brother and make sure he knows you weren't trying to be malicious."

  They smiled back at him. They were very lucky to have someone as good as Rhema in their life.

  "Thanks, Rhema. I don't know what I'd do without you."