Chapter 21

  Remember those who are no longer with us. When their body dies and soul moves on, all that we have to honor them is their memory and the lessons they gave us.

  -Collected Teachings of the Exalted Sovereign

  Phaidros did not leave his brother’s side. His cries echoed throughout the quiet jungle. Dom and Zenovia did not feel it was right to interrupt him after they had both managed to recover. They stood nearby and watched Phaidros mourn the death of his brother by his own hand.

  A flood of emotions raged within Phaidros, currents violently pulling him this way and that. What did he do now? How could he go on? All of his family were dead. The fire raged within him but what was the point of keeping such a fire if it led him to killing his brother? A hollow pit sat in his chest as despair overwhelmed him. It distracted him too much to notice the rolling smoke that began to fill the clearing.

  Zenovia and Dom noticed it though, lifting their weapons weakly as they looked around for potential threats. “Phaidros,” Zenovia said, trying to cut through the young Ignited’s numb hearing. The smoke became so thick that even the trees were no longer visible from their position. They both switched to life sense and were near blinded as what was hidden in the smoke shone as bright as the sun, the flame that accompanied them filling all of their vision until they forced their perception back. “Ash and cinders…” Zenovia muttered.

  Two, glowing, blue feline eyes stared at them through the fog, getting closer. Zenovia immediately took a knee and bowed their head. Dom stood a moment longer before saying something in a language that Zenovia did not understand but sounded an awful lot like buzzing before he too dropped to a knee. It was a sight each Ignited usually only saw once in their lifetime, the day that they ignited. The Exalted Sovereign.

  Phaidros finally looked up from his brother to the approaching figure, peering through the fog as he wiped at his eyes and blinked away tears. The Exalted Sovereign? Here?

  Do not kneel to me. Just as before, a gust of wind carried sounds that made out a voice when focused upon. Stand tall. If the three squinted they could make out a silhouette through the fog in the shape of a man only a little taller than Phaidros was with ram-like horns on either side of his head. His eyes were fierce, like a predator’s. Even Dom, who was taller than the silhouette, seemed wary to size him up as both he and Zenovia stood.

  The Exalted Sovereign did not look at the other two though, his eyes were focused purely on Phaidros. The tone of the wind sounded mournful. You have achieved a great victory today, Phaidros, yet the cost of such a victory was equally great.

  Phaidros frowned deeply, looking back at his brother’s body. “It doesn’t feel like a victory,” he replied softly. “It feels like I have lost everything. Why? Why couldn’t you stop this? You’re a god aren’t you? Why would you let this happen?” His voice began to tremble, edging towards anger. “If this is such a threat you could have stopped it with a wave of your hand, why didn’t you? Why did my brother have to die?”

  Dom and Zenovia shifted uncomfortably, but did not dare speak to interrupt. The Exalted Sovereign’s eyes closed, the silhouette of his head dipping low as if in apology. For life to thrive, it must be given freedom to grow. Your brother was a victim to my counterpart. He who seeks to control everything to his designs.

  “If we had known,” Phaidros barked, “then this could have been avoided! If you told us about this threat, everyone about this threat, then we could stop it. No one would have to die like this.” He was barely attempting to hide his anger now. “My brother would still be alive if it weren’t for you.”

  The Exalted Sovereign’s eyes opened again; they did not return Phaidros’ anger and resentment, only pity. You had spoken to the Suneater. They spoke the truth. Should the masses know of this threat, then people would seek it out. If given the chance, they would openly throw themselves into shackles if it meant that they were long and gilded in gold compared to others.

  Phaidros was still torn, looking down from him again and squeezing his eyes shut. “Why are you here?” he asked, tone defeated.

  Your potential burns hot enough that your soul has become malleable. This made Dom and Zenovia perk up but they still did not speak. You are ready to be Shaped.

  Phaidros had barely noticed the intensity of the heat within him; he had been so preoccupied with Charon’s death. He did not look in awe like the others did however. He only looked confused. “I… am? Defeating the Shaped creature did not earn it but killing my brother did? Is this some kind of cruel joke?” he asked bitterly.

  The Exalted Sovereign’s gaze remained somber. It is a common misconception that you must face great odds that might end in your death to become Shaped. The impossibility of the task is a part of it, yes… but it must be a defining moment. One that shows the world, life, me, a piece of the true shape of your soul within, by finding what keeps you moving forward against all odds.

  “Then please, enlighten me,” Phaidros said, looking down again. “What is it you see? Because all I see is a murderer and someone who failed his family.”

  I do not blame you. Even if you are blinded by the despair you feel, it does not change everything that has happened until this point. A silhouette of a hand was raised, one finger lifted. When your father died your fear of being alone is what made you take your first steps on the path. Another finger lifted. Through that desire for the bonds that surround you, you set yourself before an impossible task, not only earning powerful new friends in the process, but leading those friends. Dom perked up further at the Exalted Sovereign calling him powerful before the god lifted a third finger. With your newfound bonds that you created, you managed to stave off the beast before you, personally, were ready and sprang into action to defend innocents despite it meaning you would most likely die. A fourth finger. You did not give up on your bond with your brother until the very end, and in the end chose the bonds that you had forged yourself through blood and toil. You stood up, against pure, unfiltered fear, because you wished to see the bonds you formed thrive.

  “All I wanted was to save my brother,” Phaidros said, beginning to feel fresh tears form in his eyes.

  The Exalted Sovereign stepped up to the two of them; even this close he was only a silhouette, crouching down beside him now. Your brother was gone and it was his own choices that led him down that path. You, however, have so much room to grow.

  Phaidros could not meet his eyes. When he put it that way it did seem to be the case didn’t it? Yet out of all the ways to be Shaped, this was the last thing he wanted. “Must I? Must I etch this event into my very soul? Let it help define who I am? I don’t know if I want killing my brother to be the reason I am Shaped.”

  It must be now, while your fire burns hot. Otherwise you may never get another chance.

  Phaidros hesitated. This was something that most Ignited sought their entire lives.

  Dom spoke up first. “Be reasonable here, Phaidros. You did a good thing here, no matter what way you spin it. It is a difficult path you have walked, you have earned this power.”

  Zenovia then finally spoke. “Remember what I said back in the Lion’s Share? Don’t let your brother be the one that rules your life. This is your chance to not only gain true power but to be able to use it so that what happened today doesn’t happen elsewhere.”

  The Exalted Sovereign did not look to his companions as they spoke, only keeping his eyes on Phaidros. The young Ignited looked between them all. He would give up his Shaped soul if it would bring his brother back. That’s what he thought at least before he finally looked at the book that had been dropped by Charon as he died. He stared at the leather-bound tome, the thing that had given Charon his power, who made him raise the dead and steal the life from all around him. From what the Exalted Sovereign and Suneater had said… there were more out there. He was then reminded about whatever it was that Charon talked to. Whatever it was that was feeding him lies. His grip tightened on his brother. “If I became Shaped… would I be able to find more of these books? Hunt whoever it was that made them?” He looked to the Exalted Sovereign.

  The being that holders of the book speak to is one of dozens. Even an Ideal alone would struggle to truly kill one. That is if they go through the rest of their servants to begin with.

  “But it isn’t impossible,” Phaidros pressed.

  From the Exalted Sovereign’s eyes it was clear he was smiling. No. If you dedicate yourself to it, I’m sure one day you could. You may disagree with my methods, Phaidros, but my inaction is not without reason. It is a part of life and the rules that even I am bound by. You now know the truth of the greatest enemies that exist beyond our reach. If you wish to stop them, it will have to be by the hands of you and the other Ideals to rise up against them in this secret war.

  “I don’t see how that would be possible without telling everyone the truth.”

  Then so it shall be. If you tell everyone, I would not stop you, but the consequences of such an action are yours. The Exalted Sovereign stood once more, looking down to Phaidros. Now then… The smoke began to thicken, making it impossible to see anything around the two of them save for the Exalted Sovereign’s eyes. Do you accept the shaping of your soul?

  Phaidros’ eyes looked deep into the Exalted Sovereign’s. He was still torn, his emotions in flux as he had to make this decision right here and now with his dead brother still in his arms. “I accept,” he finally said, closing his eyes again.

  Then by the might of life itself and the potential in all things. I shall bring forth the true shape of your soul. The god lifted a hand and everything went white. To Zenovia and Dominik they saw Phaidros’ soul explode into fire, unable to be seen as the flames of potential manifested into the real world, enveloping Phaidros in his entirety.

  It did not hurt as Phaidros thought it would yet it felt odd, like being in the center of a fire where the flames could not touch him. Yet at the same time he felt uncomfortable, like he was wearing too many layers of clothes and he had only just now noticed.

  With this shaping you become a piece and manifestation of what set you on your journey. The bonds of life that you seek to keep close at your fingertips.

  Phaidros felt his body shift and change ever so subtly while a hand reached into his very soul and struck away the imperfections until the shapeless ball of white of his soul molded into a new shape. Gone was the shapeless ball of white, an unknowable star among a vast sky of souls. Now, there were hands, all linked together and clasping one another by their wrist. There was no discernable start or end as they wrapped around each other. His body felt lighter, stronger, like some of the layers had been shed away by the Exalted Sovereign’s power.

  Many find comfort and strength in your connection to the world around you. Let all within the Ignited see you for what you are. You are He who Bonds, let none alive be beyond your grasp. The light began to fade, the smoke retreating with it.

  “Wait, you’re leaving?” Phaidros asked. “There is still so much more to say!”

  My duty here is done. Should you seek direction, He who Bonds, speak to the Suneater. I will return once you are ready to ascend further.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Wait!” Phaidros called after him, finally moving away from his brother yet the smoke had completely cleared, the light fading, leaving him alone with Zenovia and Dom.

  Both of them were staring at him. “Phaidros…” Dom began. “You look…”

  “Different,” Zenovia finished. Phaidros’ soul was not the only thing that had been Shaped. As Phaidros took a step closer to becoming idealized, his physical features also shifted as well. He looked at least five years older, his face well defined with sharp edges and intense eyes. All of his injuries had been healed.

  However, on the inside, Phaidros slowly felt that pit return in his chest. He had agreed to become Shaped, he had become a manifestation of the bonds between all life, and he felt numb to all of it. He didn’t respond to them, instead walking past them both to finally pick his brother up in his arms and turned back to them both. “We must speak to Sacred Suneater. One of you take the book.”

  Dom and Zenovia looked to each other again, not sure how to feel about all that just happened. Phaidros had been Shaped but… Phaidros clearly didn’t look happy about it. Dom went to go pick up the book while Zenovia walked up beside Phaidros. It didn’t seem right to congratulate him, or ask him if he was alright. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, expecting her to say something, a light frown on his face, eyes still red from crying. “You…” Zenovia began, “did your best, Phaidros. If your father were still here, he would agree with your decision today.” She tried to offer a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  Phaidros looked at the hand, expression blank. “Forgive me, Zenovia,” he said after sighing. “I appreciate you trying to comfort me right now, I just need time.” Zenovia frowned, but nodded, not saying anything more.

  Dom caught up to the two of them. “We should hurry back and let Dasos know where to find the bodies before the jungle decides to take them for itself.” Phaidros nodded and there was a small silence that followed before Dom continued, “…so, your soul looks a bit different now. I couldn’t hear the last part of your talk with the Exalted Sovereign, but you are… Hands now? Your soul has been shaped into Hands?”

  Phaidros frowned again. “It’s He who Bonds,” he confirmed flatly.

  “He who Bonds, huh? Yes I think this is a good word for you. Even if you are not feeling very friendly and bonding now. You are feeling angry now I am sure.”

  “That is one word for it,” Phaidros mumbled.

  “Well.” He lifted the book up. “I think I know what might make you feel better, sticking that blade of yours into whoever made this thing.”

  Phaidros didn’t respond, though there was a look of cold determination in his eyes.

  The trip back to Dasos remained silent, save for occasional attempts at levity by Dom. At some point both him and Zenovia began speaking encoded through their helmets in a private communications channel. Phaidros didn’t mind, he didn’t feel up to casual conversation as is.

  The three entered the city; normally when a new Shaped would arrive there would be celebration, but people saw the body in his arms and wisely stayed quiet. They bowed their heads respectfully as the three passed and nothing more.

  Suneater was where they always were, atop the great root of the tree that burrowed through the temple. The three Ignited entered with Phaidros at the head. Suneater was silent as they walked until they reached the base of the root. Phaidros knelt down and gently rested his brother on the floor in front of them, remaining on his knees.

  “So it is done,” Suneater said. “The book?” Dom approached the root and held the book up to Suneater; a branch reached down to take it and lift it up to the Ideal. They examined the cover briefly before grabbing it by its spine and unceremoniously ripping it in half, leather and all, as if it was a piece of discarded paper. There was a brief gout of flame and the book was gone, the magic keeping it together dissipating in its entirety. The Ideal’s gaze then drifted to Charon and Phaidros. Silence lingered before the Ideal spoke again. “We failed him, Phaidros.”

  Phaidros blinked, not expecting that answer as he looked up at Suneater. The Ideal stepped down off the root to stand before the two of them, then bowed as much as their armor would allow them. “It is the duty of the Order of the Ignited to care for and ensure that the Cindered do not feel isolated and that we provide them the means to live a normal life. Charon was… difficult, but in every other regard the Ignited are supposed to embrace difficulty. Instead we isolated him. I can only beg for your forgiveness in this regard.”

  Phaidros wasn’t sure how to take that. He sat there stunned that the Ideal of all people was apologizing to him. His fists clenched, he remembered when the Ideal spat on Charon’s very idea at attempting to help Phaidros with his rite. Somehow it felt wrong for the Ideal to try and apologize to him, like they didn’t have the right to even speak after they openly participated in his brother’s downfall. He opened his mouth and closed it, grinding his teeth before finally some of his anger bled away so he could reply. “The last thing Charon tried to say to me was that it was his choice…” Phaidros sighed. “I believe it, but… we allowed him to get so far to make that choice. Thank you, Suneater, but I just wish to see that he is buried now.” He hesitated. “…and that we speak to our next move.”

  Suneater stood upright again, nodding. “You are Shaped and thus your time in this city will be at an end soon to make room for other Ignited who struggle to maintain their fire. I know that you have spent most of your life here and your first few weeks of being ignited have been… eventful. However, we must follow our laws here.” Phaidros nodded slowly, bitterness mostly hidden. That was what he expected. He was about to speak when the Ideal continued. “As for your next move. Unfortunately… the forces of life are more splintered and fractured than you may believe. The strength of the Amaranthine Planes is unified and mighty and without the full strength of the Ignited, it will inevitably succeed in any war it is pushed into.”

  That made Phaidros shift uncomfortably. “Why hasn’t it just outright attacked us?”

  “The answer to that is hidden within the lands without stars,” Suneater answered. “All I know is that for millennia they have slowly crept from system to system. I have only seen the denizens of their worlds several times in this age and the last.”

  “Surely the Ideals will see this threat? Isn’t there the Council of Ideals?”

  “Yes. They are the main people knowledgeable about the threat of the Planes. However… many have been stuck in their own affairs… As am I.”

  Phaidros hesitated. “Not even you can help me?” he asked, voice sounding pained.

  “My city has failed your brother and that is a fault on my part, no matter what he says. I cannot leave Dasos unattended,” Suneater said, a hint of apology in their tone. “If you manage to convince the other Ideals to join you in your crusade, I will vouch for you, but until then my place is here.”

  Phaidros’ fire within made all of this sound way easier than his mind truly knew it was. He just needed to convince the most powerful people in the galaxy to trust him on a quest of vengeance. The anger bubbled in him more but the fact that there was a path at all soothed him. It would be a good distraction from everything that had taken place in the past few weeks. Where he didn’t have to think about what he had done. What he had become. “What can I do to convince them?”

  “A starship will be made ready for you that will take you to the Order’s headquarters, The Cathedral, far from here,” the Ideal answered, gently kneeling down and picking Charon’s body up in his arms. Phaidros fought back the urge to lunge for the body. “There you will be able to do commissions for the Ignited and perhaps earn the audience of one of the Ideals. There is a civil war on Rodina, where the ruling Empress sits on the council and manages the war effort. If you wish for an easy way to make a name for yourself, start there. Bring whatever you need from your home here. You will not be returning.”

  Phaidros nodded then Dom took a step forward, sounding more rushed than Phaidros expected. “Wait, what about us?”

  Suneater turned towards Dom. “What about you? You have not become Shaped. You are still welcome in this city and may stay for as long as you wish.”

  “Oh no. I am coming too,” Dom said, arms folding. “I helped kill the big beast and I helped him take his brother. We are hunting partners now. Where he goes, I go.” He looked to Zenovia as if waiting for her to back him up.

  She looked from him to Phaidros and Suneater, folding her arms and drumming her fingers along one bicep. “You made a promise to me, Phaidros. I’ll be damned if I let you go back on that promise for the sake of revenge. I’m coming with you too.”

  Phaidros froze. “You both want to come along? Dom, weren’t you trying to get away from the civil war for a vacation?” he asked.

  “You thought we were just going to let you go on an adventure hunting undead on your own? Nonsense. You are stuck with me. Besides, now that you are Shaped we will need a rematch soon. One with less one-sided win conditions. As for Rodina, seeing you has inspired me.” He opened his mouth as if to add more before he just settled on grinning.

  A smile managed to creep through onto Phaidros’ face, though it was muted. “It will be nice to have company,” he admitted.

  Suneater nodded. “It is settled then. Now go, you all have preparations to make. I need to reach out to the port for one of their ships and have a burial made for Charon.” All three nodded before leaving Suneater to their duties. As they were leaving the temple however, Phaidros paused. “Wait… there’s one more person we should bring along.”

  “…Please tell me we are not bringing the dragon?” Dom asked meekly.

  “Daxia made my armor, made new rounds for Zenovia to use on the beast and got you back up in fighting shape. She’s earned a place, besides it would be nice to have a smith to make sure our gear is maintained.”

  Zenovia shrugged. “Well, you’re Shaped, you would have been assigned one anyway so might as well.” Phaidros nodded and was beginning to head towards the Merchant’s District before Zenovia stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t go marching off,” she scolded. “I know it’s easy to just keep going even after you’ve experienced a loss, but you need to sit down and take a break. Go home, I’ll go talk to Daxia. You’ve earned the rest.”

  Phaidros opened his mouth to speak but then closed it with a sigh. “I… alright. I’ll try.”

  “That’s all I ask.” She clapped Phaidros on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Phaidros.”

  *

  When Phaidros returned home, he stood in the entryway, eyes lightly scanning over the empty living area and kitchen. It was quiet. With no threat to his life hanging over the horizon, with all of his known family dead, he could truly feel how quiet his home was now. He was Shaped; with that came powers, he should be excitedly trying to figure out what it meant to be ‘He who Bonds’ but all he could think about was the empty spaces on the couch and the familiar faces there he’d never see again. He thought about the memories of the three of them all around the kitchen, talking about Charon’s most recent victory or how well Phaidros was doing in his sword training. He stepped out of his armor, leaving it at the doorway as he walked further into the room and sat down at one of the seats at the kitchen counter and the moment that he had settled, the weight of everything that had happened settled with him.

  He thought he had run through all of the tears earlier today, that he had been able to grieve enough, but he was wrong. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he thought about all the things he didn’t get to say to those he lost. The memories that would forever be memories, the happiness that he had once with them forever torn away by the cruel realities that all life must end. Never again would he see his father return home from another hunt with smiles and stories to share. Never again would he be able to sit with Charon about adventures they’d have once he also became ignited. No journeys into the stars awaited him for him and his family. For hours he sat there, crying alone, until inevitably exhaustion saved him from his anguish and lulled him into a deep and heavy sleep.

  *

  The next day, Phaidros stood in full armor before two headstones, one bearing his brother’s name, and the other his father’s. His sword was slung over his back currently, with a large backpack and a few smaller bags hanging off of him with all of his essentials. Dom, Zenovia, and Daxia stood a little further away, Dom’s armor still regrowing, all three of them were similarly packed as Phaidros.

  “Goodbye, you two,” Phaidros said, stepping forward to touch the headstones fondly. “I know I will not be allowed to come back here in the future so I wished to stop here and…” He trailed off. He wasn’t sure what the proper words were. The emotions of yesterday crept back onto him. “Just say that I will not forget you both. It already feels like a lifetime since I’ve seen you, Father, and Charon…” He hesitated. “Charon, I will not let your death be in vain. I hope wherever you two are when you reincarnate… you will be living better lives than you did before. I will make the most of your memory.” He lowered his head, fighting back the tears threatening to break free. “I miss you both. Please, if you ever do find Mother in your new lives, say hello for me.” He pushed himself to his feet, taking one last look over to the graves before walking off towards his companions.

  “You alright, Phaidros?” Zenovia asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” he replied, though he was sure it wasn’t convincing. Dom’s hand found his shoulder and the new Shaped glanced up to see his friend smiling down at him.

  “You are a bad liar, but that is alright”—the zhuk nodded sagely—“this is a hard thing to go through, but we are here to support you. Remember, you are not alone.” The words brought a gentle smile to Phaidros’ face. He glanced to Daxia, who seemed to be doing her best to try and give the three ‘privacy’ by looking anywhere but where they were.

  She noticed she had been caught however and finally flicked her molten eyes back to him, “…don’t look at me. I’m terrible at cheering people up.” Her tail flicked in annoyance before she quickly added, “That one time a few weeks ago when you were really sad doesn’t count.” Phaidros’ smile grew a little wider. “Thank you, all of you,” he said, glancing between the three of them. “I don’t know what we’re going to face out there, but…” The words stuck in his throat, unsure of how to say what he wanted to say properly. He was scared of what lay ahead, what might be out there waiting for him. The Amaranthine Planes, the other Ideals. How would he try and prepare the others and himself for what he was leading them towards? “Just… thank you,” his mind eventually settled on with a sigh.

  “You need to work on your rousing speeches,” Zenovia said, arms folding.

  “It was touching!” Dom quickly interjected in his defense.

  “I’ve heard worse.” Daxia shrugged her shoulders. “Can we go now?”

  Phaidros chuckled quietly then nodded. “Yeah… let’s go.” Dom shook his shoulder once in support as the four made their way towards the merchant’s district and the starport that lay within. To leave the jungle behind and face new challenges in the stars above.