The Priest and Playwright

Imagine me being somewhere on the frontal page of a book. Imagine me being its main component — a hero, let's say. If it were ever to paint alike, do you think I would correspond to the title? Would I carry out my duty until the very end?

Most importantly, would I manage to save you?

Or would I carry the burden of your precious soul, converged with endlessness right below the dry palms of my hands?

What do you think? Have I… Have I saved you?

Because...

It hurts so much.

...

You—You killed him.

You are the burden we have all carried, Shrike.

1

For now, it might be safer to sympathize with the past and slowly, but surely follow its trails. Therefore, it all began with the clutching morning sun that rose Stoth district, the capital of the northeast, from the dark and sullen grounds of the night. The mere consideration of the swaying capital it was entitled to gave us knowledge that Stoth was never silent to even begin with.

Just a little after the night hours steadily shifted into early morning, the streets instantly got overfilled with merchants and peasants, stirring convince over their fake potion or anti-sunlight creme into the eyes and ears of the poor passing people who were in that time money drained.

No one seems to recall Stoth ever being in slumber; even a slightest portion of calmness was nowhere to be found next to this leading capital.

The little boy himself was surely one of those people.

He spent most of his childhood in this district, and for all he knew, Stoth district was usually the loud hummingbird that never quite stopped humming (sometimes he wouldn't even think about it as humming — you can vocally express yourself much louder when purely singing), maybe only for a second or two, when the bird drinks water of feeds itself, that being, metaphorically, a couple of rare seconds when the tyranny of the Lord seemed to stab the hearts of the people and shut their vocal chords down.

They get back up on their strings, don't worry. It's something they got used to.

It's also something the boy never actually cared about — for that matter, paid attention at, really. Maybe it was because of the sheer fact that Stoth district was not his birthplace, just a long term abode.

With morning muddy eyes and deadly eye bags, the boy jousted through the wholeness of the grand garden, from the main orphanage, to the grand gate, using only his tired legs. If athletes wouldn't have ended up getting executed by the fearful command of the Lord's law, the boy might've even considered running a marathon someday.

The golden gate reeked of infinity. That's quite an unusual description, but whenever he took its grandness into consideration, vastness appeared out of nowhere and presented something like an infinite point of view — what's beyond the gate and such other.

But the boy knew perfectly well what was beyond the gate. Vastness is a complicated word.

The metal bars sun-kissed and wrapped up by the warm, orange lowlight of the enormous fire ball (thus giving an impression of it actually being made out of gold and not polished metal) started making a linear movement.

To be honest, there was no astounding mechanism that would make the gate open by itself. In fact, there were two valiant guards with about half a portion of armor on their bodies, patiently waiting to allow entrance to authorized personnel. The boy was definitely authorized.

But why? Did any of the guards wonder?

They didn't. The boy was somewhat a familiar face to them — not a daily gate passenger, but still a young face with curly hair they could recognize if they really tried to do so. Catching the mere moment wasn't a common thing for them, neither something they were good at.

This part of the garden started whispering luxury. Every couple of steps down the pavement would only open up more stylized bushes, hanging torches, beautiful flower sections, and when he finally arrived to the palace, almost an infinite number of pillars.

And the pillars were huge! They were perfectly aligned, on top of that.

The main door opened. Every time the boy would come here, he would always feel the same impression rolling down his spine. Every visit was exactly like the first one. It was a delicate mixture of fear, anxiety and most of all, to be prudent and of manner.

It was only logical, for God's sake. The sight portrayed right before his muddy green eyes gave all the reason to feel and behave such way.

To him, grandness was the main attribute with the special skill of sweeping an individual away. And could he bet: a grand territory it truly was.

Draperies of various materials, sizes, enriched with details — imagine colors rolling down towards you from the tessellated grand ceiling, sparkling viciously, comforting and discomforting your eyes, both at the same time. What a magnificent imagery to portray. Deluxe, to say the least.

But such profound imagery is not to be displayed to everyone. Not everyone can handle it.

It surely wasn't honey and milk to the little boy. He was such a small figure, eaten by such an enormous hall.

In the end, maybe the attribute of grandness required a sacrifice of him feeling belittled and ashamed every time he ended up here. To him, it was alright to feel this way. A mere man could never compare to such a grand object, even if it is man's creation in the first place. It's a case of absurdity, probably.

The boy began fluttering his eyes, right to left, even though by now, he was partially familiar with the place he was in.

Voices started appearing, therefore his attention redirected to another direction. However, all he could recognize was nonsense and blabbering, thus he decided to break the steady figure of himself acting like a statue glued to the baroque floor. After a few uneasy steps, the boy approached one of the valiant guards that stood near the next door of the grand interior.

"Is he in the room? I-I mean, is he waiting?"

"Yes child, you may proceed."

The guard looked down on the boy and let him pass afterwards.

As the boy stepped, the red carpet with saturated yellow decorations on the rough edges began to fold. On the boy's fair behalf, the time was accurately appropriate for a clumsy step nonetheless.

This was a different stage of the palace. This grand hall resembled renaissance — elegance, style and uplifting manner.

The boy was not even halfway through the luxurious paradise when he noticed a giant window with colored glass and the sun's light, sprinting right through it like a man chased by military's bullets.

In front of it, which optically seemed like at the bottom of the giant window, stood a silhouette. The boy knew perfectly well who that man was and why he waited for him this unusual morning.

It was the local priest of Stoth district. He proceeded to look at the boy across the giant room and shortly after started his speech. The priest seemed unethically happy to see the small figure of a boy.

"There you are! Yes!

We have not even started, but I can already see it in your hands! It's meant to be!

I assume you know why I called you here. It is still about your mother. I also assume you know that she is being heavily pursued, am I right child?"

"—"

The boy stared in blank silence until the priest continued to add some more.

"Humans are such foolish beings, my child. One day they're family, the next they vow to slay each other… No need to show fear however! Your mother will live as long as you listen to me. If you disobey in any way or form, your mother shall meet Death, I can simply guarantee that!

Therefore, I shall present the proposals.

I want you back in two years with it, the sacred item! That is by definition, seven hundred and thirty days. If you come back with empty hands, Death shall await. I would be careful if I was you, my child!

Take all the supplies and money you need, and run my little child, run! Let us throw the Lord where he belongs together! Amen!"

2

The filthy concrete streets of Stoth unveiled shouting that emerged from the fallen people.

"The land is sundering! The Lord is corrupt! Save yourselves! Save your loved ones!"

Citizens were rioting and heavy screams with a mixture of these antagonistic words were echoing all around the block, the corners and in his head.

He took all the things he needed — two big bags full of supplies, coins, clothes and blankets he could find (even though there were not many).

He was still in the middle of Stoth district, the mere capital, therefore he had only just started his long upcoming journey. While eagerly trying to fight and push his way through the angry and rebellious crowd, the boy encountered a small black figure in a half-empty alley that resided in his peripheral vision. He decided to spare a minute of the two upcoming years of his journey, thus he entered the alley and started approaching the black figure.

Even while being a lonely back alley, it was nothing quieter than the streets itself. The boy tried not to focus on the loud noises yet on the small black figure.

And as he fully came closer, there was no doubt about it — it was a small black cat, meowing for food. The lone fact that it survived all by its own, knowing the viciousness of the riot and rotten people was what shook the boy instantly. All he felt now was empathy for the cat. He almost lost himself in the pitch darkness of his fur.

Yes, it was also definite to say that the pitch black cat was a male.

The boy immediately knelt down and took a modest bottle of milk that the priest gave him and continued to gently spill it on the rock hard street concrete.

It was clear to notice that the black cat instantly became the boy's best friend and a fellow acquaintance in the boy's travels.

Together they embarked further on.

Those medieval corrupt times required a friend. A loved one, or someone that would not cease to care for your well-being. You see, the concept of time and matter scattered across the lands from day to day. Fragments of everything that existed constantly changed, pressured by the three evils.

The Lord would be the first evil.

He was the obsolete ruler of all lands, the practical God in human form. Truth be told, he was nowhere near God. He spread his tyranny across the lands, formed bankruptcy, raided residential objects and killed innocents — a clearer depiction shall be revealed very soon, nonetheless. What was definite to say was that no living soul knew his true identity, neither where he resided.

Alongside the Lord, we find the military and its capital. They were all much like pawns to the Lord. As long as they received payment or some kind of personal benefit, they would proceed to follow any order they were given by the upper ranks.

The second evil were the Witches, the Lord's only real reassurance. Even if only a few of them existed, they served the Lord and were brutally loyal to him, where some even sacrificed their immortal lives for the good of the Lord. Only the thought of one sacrificing something that is forever and until eternity simply bled to proof on how loyal they actually were.

They harvested the purest form of magic, therefore all the reason for humans to be afraid and show caution towards them.

Lastly, the third evil would be the humans that obtained particles of the same magic. With such inhuman abilities, they had decided to form and act as a group. It is believed that there were seven of them. Some locals and residents in a couple of districts did not consider them as a threat, yet as the group of people with the strongest and biggest potential to throw overcast at the Lord and take him down to the ground.

Their history was quite blurry, however stories tell of alchemy and a Witch's sacrifice, but keep in mind that this appeared only as a folk tale. As partial magic users, they had only one main trait. Each one of them could control a specific animal from the animal kingdom.

The seventh human's status is unknown. Even though portrayed in records, the seventh was never seen. Most believe the seventh is nothing but a rumor.

The sixth is the Jellyfish, the fifth is the Python, the fourth is the Vulture, the third is the Wolf, the second is the Bee and the first is the Shrike.

The Shrike recently betrayed the others and is no longer an official member. Due to this, the others seek to kill her. The Shrike is also known as Chijoku Howsharm, the boy's mother.

Luckily for the boy, by the circumstantial act of destiny, he will stumble upon one of the seven, but it is none of his own kin.

In fact, she has short soft-blue hair and a suspicious attitude.

This is a story about how he finds the meaning of life through her eyes.