Chapter 9: The Source

Grall

Grall awoke in darkness. It was so dark that even Gralls magical eyesight did little for his sight. Grall went to sit up, but found something blocking his way.

Grall lifted his hand to feel for whatever kept him in place. Finding nothing, Grall tried again to sit up, his hand out stretched so that he can learn the boundaries of this darkness, but, unfortunately, he once more found himself unable to sit up.

Angered, Grall began to yell, or at least he attempted to. He found that no matter how much he wanted to scream, yell, or even speak, nothing came out.

Whats going on? Grall thought, anger had given way to panic as it set in. Is this another test? Am I being punished for fighting dishonorably again?

The questions flooded Gralls mind as he fought to keep the panic under control. As he laid on the dark ground a voice came to him, a familiar voice.

"Grall," it said, "why do you do this to yourself?"

Grall wanted to scream out at the voice, demand for it to release him and tell it he did not do this to himself, it was the work of the elders. Sadly, no sounds escaped Gralls mouth as he laid there staring into the darkness.

"I am not the one who trapped you here." the voice said, almost as if it was reading Gralls thoughts. A chill crypt up Gralls spine, causing him to shiver unvoluntarily.

Who are you? Grall demanded, this was far from his first time meeting someone who could read minds and, if he could not voice his questions, he sure as he'll was gonna use his ability to his advantage.

A chuckle echoed out of the darkness, it was a strange, humorless sound. "We have met before, Grall," the voice said as the man stepped into view, "or do you not remember?"

Grall stared at the man without recognition. The man did look familiar, a human from the looks of it, who had dark brown hair, crystal blue eyes that sunk into his skull, and tan skin. He wore strange clothes, all white, they looked to be some kind of celebration clothes but none Grall had ever seen before.

Or have I? Grall asked himself, as he pondered on the man's words. He himself had said we have met before, and he does look familiar, but where? When? And most importantly, how? Grall scoffed at himself, why is the how so important to him. Yes he looked familiar, but so did most of the humans he met, after all, they all looked the same.

"You don't remember." The man said, it wasn't a question but a statement, or rather a realization. "This is a first. You have remembered who I was every other time we met."

Grall stared at the man, the panic he felt before now gone, replaced by a strange sense of calm. He did not allow himself to reveal anymore of who or what he was and instead focused on the darkness that bared down on him.

The man stayed silent for a moment, his eyes transfixed on Grall. When he did speak, he did so with what Grall could only perceive as sorrow.

"We," he said, his voice low, "were once brothers, you and I." Grall turned his head, now scrutinizing the man under his gaze.

The man lifted his hand as to stop Gralls scrutiny and continued. "I am not Grodak, your brother of this cycle, but," he said his voice rising in a proud and respectful tone, "I am your brother from another cycle."

Gralls eyes narrowed in disbelief, everyone knew that once you die, you return to the source and become a part of him. "Yes." The man said, turning his gaze from Grall as to look into the darkness. Gralls eyes followed the man's and, unintentionally, gasped.

Standing at Gralls feet stood multiple people, all of different races, some of which Grall had never seen or heard of before. "All souls return to me." The man, who Grall now realized was claiming to be the source itself alongside being his brother, spoke low, a kind smile on his lips and in his eyes. "That is," he continued, "all but one."

Those that stood at Gralls feet turned to the man, the Source, and bowed respectfully. "I have been the source for many cycles," the man voice took on a sense of pain and sorrow, "and you have been by my side through all of it."

As his voice died down, those that stood at his feet, one by one, disappeared. The Source turned to Grall, his eyes held such great sorrow in them that it pained Grall to look into them.

"Each time," he said, his voice calm and composed, not matching the sorrow in his eyes, "you would insist upon being sent to the world. There, you would fall in love, then lose that love. Sometimes it was due to natural causes, other times...." he looked away not wanting to continue.

"I do not interfere with the lives of those on the world I create," he spoke softly, as to try and explain his reasoning, "but, I had to do something."

Grall stared at the man, bewildered. "Don't you see, my brother." The spoke hastily, his voice full of mixed feelings. The man, however, paused for a moment, seeing Grall flinch at being called his brother. "Your right," he continued, "we are no longer close enough to call each other brother."

"When you asked to be reborn," the man continued, averting his eyes, which Grall thought he saw tears in, "I didn't want you to die from the same mistakes, so I gifted you with the plain you call the Shadow World."

Gralls eyes widened, he had always thought he recieved the curse, as he once called it, because Grodak would've been to strong if he had recieved it. "If that was the case," the man said as he read Gralls mind, "I wouldn't have allowed him access to the Shadow World."

Grodak

Grodak lifted his sword from the armored boy that laid in front of him. He only been able to slay the armored knight thanks to Grall, who had cut off its legs. In doing so, Grall had been attacked by the knight, its blade cleaving through Gralls head.

Grodak stood next to the knights body, waiting for Grall to appear. Grodak had seen Grall take on worst wounds, some of which would have killed Grodak a hundred times over, and yet, every time, Grall would just fall into the Shadow World, only to appear seconds, some times minutes, later.

Grodak stood in place for a few minutes waiting, but Grall didnt show up. This worried Grodak, he held up Talengars horn to create a pathway to the Shadow World. To Grodaks dismay and annoyance, nothing happened. No pathway, no elders chatter, and no Grall.

Grodak started to curse under his breath but stopped as his eyes went to the knights sword, or at least he could have sworn it was a sword before. The weapon had somehow changed shape, becoming a halbern.

Grodak knelt down and inspected the weapon with curiosity, running his hand across it. The weapon seemed to hum at Grodaks touch.

Lifting it up, Grodak examined the weapon closely. It felt as though it was made for him, almost as if, a God or maybe the Source itself wanted him to have it. Grodak swung the weapon a few times testing it and found it to form and, seemingly, warp how he wanted.

Forgetting his worry about Grall now, a new thought entered his mind. The kingdom and even the castle was the same as Whitewater, does that mean it has a forge as will and if it does, is that where this peculiar weapon came from?

Grodak decided to check to see if his suspicion was correct and set out to where he knew the forge would lay in wait. Grodak entered the forge and found himself stunned at the sight of it. This forge was an exact replica of his forge in the castle, all the down to where the tools and even the wood for the furnace were placed.

Grall

Gralls eyes shifted from the man, the Source, to the empty expanse of darkness that surrounded them. One thought lingered on Gralls mind. I need to escape, he thought, Grodak is waiting for me. This isn't the Shadow World so time probably doesn't move differently here.

"You're right," the man said, "this isn't the Shadow World, its the void. Oh don't give me that look, you realized it yourself the moment you found yourself here."

Grall stared at the man with hatred, he was right. Grall had sensed he was in a place he was powerless in and had came to the conclusion. If this man was what he said he was, then that just added to the evidence.

"I brought you here instead of allowing you to head to the Shadow World as you usually do," the man said as a matter of fact, "simply because you have a finite number of chances to be revived by the Shadow World. Once used up, the Shadow World won't be able to revive you."

Grall stared at the man, not sure of how to take his words. "Everyone who had possessed this ability was limited in the same way." The man began to move his hands with every word he spoke, as if he was trying to use his hands to help explain the situation. "Most never depended on it, because the number of revives he had was low, maybe two or three, but," he turned to Grall his hands pausing in their movement, "you Grall, I set yours to such a high number that I had thought you would never reach it during this cycle."

The man let out a sigh in frustration, he looked as though he wanted to hit Grall but was trying to restrained himself from doing so. "That was until, after your wife's death, you started seeking out death yourself. I had taken into count that you would do that and that was why I gifted you the Shadow World, but to take your own life so many times."

The man shook his head in disappointment. "There isn't even a number for the amount of times you have killed yourself."

Gralls thoughts went back to when his beloved wife had died in child birth, how he had tried more times then there were seconds in the day to die. He had tried so many different ways sure that it would kill him, but none had worked.

Anger filled Gralls being, anger of the likes hes never felt before. "So," Grall shouted, "you are the reason why I am still alive."

"Grall, stop." The man said, more as a warning then a command.

"The reason why I can no longer be with my wife." Grall continued, not caring for the man's words. "The reason for all the torment I have put up with to date."

Grall began to stand as he finished his sentence, a strange and frightening power over coming all of his senses. He could feel something inside him taking over, but he didn't care. His only thought was on this man.

"Stop!" This time was a command that sent shivers down Gralls spine causing him to snap out of his anger and gain control over himself once more.

"What," Grall said, his hand going to his throbbing head, "was that?"

"That," the man said sounding exhausted, "was your true self."

Grall stared blankly at the man, unable to comprehend what he meant. "My true self?" Grall asked, confusion plain as day on his face.

"Yes," the man said, "as I am the source, you, my dear brother, are the reaper."

Grall said nothing, he hadnt even realized the bonds that had held him in place and kept him from speaking were lifted. He just stared at the man in complete and utter confusion. He had learned of the source and the rebirth of the cycles that cleansed the world so it may start again brand new, but he had never heard of no reaper.

"The reaper," the man began to talk and Grall listened, ready to poke holes in his story, "is the one who cleanses the world of the souls, returning them to me. The reaper also picks from those souls the strongest to continue living so that they may help with the creation of the next cycle."

The man sat down on something unseen to Gralls eyes. "We were apart of one cycle many many cycles ago," the man paused as if in thought, then continued, "its difficult to count the number of cycles its been since you and I took over." He flashed a small wary smile, his face took on age as he spoke.

"Back then, we were sure this would be easy." His voice took on a more distant tone. "We will be able to do as we wish anytime we wish it, or so we thought. Little did we know, the responsibility and strain it would place on the two of us."

The man's eyes searched in the darkness for the story he knew to will. The story of how two foolish brothers almost tore down everything the original Gods had once created. His voice filled the darkness and enveloped Grall. Every word spoken sunk deep into his mind.

Two brothers, both human, had once sought Godhood. It was different back then, there were no knowledge of the cycles. The Gods who ruled over the world never interfered with the mortal world, choosing instead to rule from the heavens.

The Eight of Might, they were called. They were believed to have predated time itself. Three of light, three of dark, and two of neutrality, their names long forgotten.

The Eight of Might stood as careful protectors over their domain, not allowing any to enter. One day, at a meeting of the eight, they had discussed what they were protecting, for their domain held nothing but emptiness. None knew, however, they just knew that something or someone had pressed upon them that they must protect this domain.

Unsatisfied by this answer, they had decided to create something that would be worth protecting. Thus the world had been created, or so was recorded in the libraries. In my opinion, it was just the first cycle they had created, the first out of many.

How do I know that it was the first, you may ask. There were ruins in the world, technology that seemed to be far more advanced then anything of the times. The sky's shown no stars back then so there was no other worlds.

Then, one day, two brothers showed up, both wielding powers like none the Gods had ever seen before. This, of course, frightened the God's and caused them to either fight or flee. Three of them fled when they saw the two brothers power overwhelm the most powerful of the Gods.

The three did not flee to the world they had created, however. Instead, the three of them fled to separate domains, killing their Gods and taking over. Once they had control over that domain, they began to change, modify, add, or just erase what the other Gods had created and build their own version of the world they had originally built.

However, they did not do this because they wanted power or to rule a world by theirselves, for if that was they case, the Gods would've just created their own worlds in their original domain. No, they built up these worlds to challenge us, the two brothers who managed to dethrone them and sent them running.

We did not suspect this and left them alone. We had what we wanted, the one thing that no mortal could hope to obtain, Godhood. Sadly, our joy over this triumph did not last, for those that the Gods had managed to keep at bay saw this and took the opportunity to attack.

We were unprepared for it and was nearly defeated. That was when you, Grall, came up with the idea to trap them in a place they wouldn't be able to leave. That was the day we created hell, the day we trapped those you refer to as demon lords inside. That was also the day that we sealed not only ours, but the material realms fate.

Have you ever wondered why the cycle happens? Why there are beings who are referred to as Gods even though we are the only true Gods? Why there are now stars in the sky where, as I said before, there wasn't before?

The cycle comes to a close, souls are gathered and returned to me, and the world I had created abandoned. This happens only when the demons are close to conquering the world. Its a way for us to keep what the original Gods had created alive, for without that, you and I will fall ourselves.

Gralls eyes stayed on the man, flickers of what he said coming to mind as if he had once lived through them himself. The Source, for now Grall believed he was the Source, sat with his head in his hands.

"With ever cycle," he continued, "you would insist upon being sent to the mortal plane so that you can gather up the strongest fighters and fight back against the demons. This always succeeds but you are never among their numbers."

The Source let out a shaken sigh that racked his body, sending shivers down his spine. "Every time, we would come closer to winning and every time, we would have to abandon the world because the warriors did not have enough strength to finish them."

The Source looked up into Gralls eyes. "But," he said, his eyes red rimmed and cheeks tear stained, "I know that if you were to survive long enough to fight them, then you will be able to finally rid the mortal plane of the infestation."

Grall turned away from the Source, not wanting to look into the eyes of the crying man. "You are mistaken, brother." Grall spoke without realizing what he was saying. "If anyone would be able to defeat the demons lords, it would be people like Grodak or Imp, not I."

"True," the Source spoke softly, sniffling every once in a while, but otherwise seemed fine, "Dropnar was always a good fighter, and is the reason why I keep reincarnating him and his wife."

Grall spun to face the Source, his face now quizzical. "What do you mean, brother?"

"There is no need to call me brother anymore, Grall." The Source spoke quickly, his eyes staring past Grall. "Just call me Jarada, as that is my true name, Jarada Deadra."

Gralls mind quickly went to the Jarada that resided in Whitewater and began to wonder if they were one and the same. "Yes," Jarada said, his voice carried a sense of pride, "that is my disguise when I walk amongst the mortal plane."

"That matters little to me," Grall said, it was a lie for he very much cared about that and stored that information in his brain, "what I want to know is what you meant when you called Grodak Dropnar."

"Dropnar," Jarada said, "is a warrior from our youth. The three of us were as close as brothers and many times, when you were born to the world, you were born as his brother."

"How..." Grall licked his lips, moistening them and preparing to ask the single question he had wanted to ask from the beginning. "How do I know you are telling the truth?"

"Think back to how you were when you first got here and what happened when your true self began to shine through." Jarada replied, his voice coming quicker as if to hurry things along.

Grall thought about it and realized he was now able to stand, where before he wasnt able to even sit up, and talk, where before he couldn't make a sound. "That doesn't prove anything, I am-" Grall was cut off by Jarada who burst into laughter.

"You are what?" Jarada asked as he stiffled his laughter. "The God of death? No. You are not the God of death, the powers of a God cannot be transferred that easily. If that were the case, then all the Gods powers would still be on Xeno-Movia. As it stands there is only one God that still lives, that is Talengar, but he doesn't reside in the material plane."

"What?" Grall asked, his voice shaking, everything he had once believed to be true was now shattered and scattered to the winds. "Then how can I summon..."

Jarada watched Grall for a brief moment before he spoke. "You already realized how, haven't you. The reaper can control the dead better then the so called God of death ever could. As time passes, you will awaken more of your abilities and be able to control more then just the dead."

"What if...." Grall stopped, thinking his question over and carefully wording it as to not offend the man who stood in front of him. "What if, I decided to forgo my powers and decided to just live a normal life?"

"You won't." Jarada spoke with such conviction that Grall nearly believed him. Grall opened his mouth to protest but, before he could, Jarada raised a hand to stop him. "If you regain all of your powers, then you would be able to bring your wife back from the dead."

Those words left Grall speechless, his mouth hung open in awe. Do I have the powers to do that? Grall asked himself, not sure if he liked the idea of being able to bring the dead back to life. It sounded to much like necromancy, the most evil kind of magic.

"Its not necromancy," Jarada said, his voice sounded hurt, "necromancy forces a soul out of the spirit realm and into a doll. Your ability allows you to recreate or repair the body of the dead and invite them back to the world of the living."

Grall was dumbfounded, was there such an ability? Usually anything involving the dead was seen as a dark kind of magic, something no respectable being would do. This on the other hand, seemed to be more like an ability that revives the dead. Rather then the enslavement that comes with necromancy, the dead would be able to make their own choices and live their lives.

"There is conditions, however," Jarada said as he stood and began to walk pass Grall, his eyes seemed to be fixed on something in the distance that Grall could not see, "the soul must be intact, untarnished, and willing."

Grall nodded his head already forming a plan on how to bring his wife back. "Now," Jarada said, not taking his eyes off of whatever it was he stared at, "you must leave, I have other visitors to attend to."

Grall started to ask what he meant but found himself falling. When Grall opened his eyes, he was on the floor of the castle where he and Grodak had slain Tyril. Grodak, however, was no where to be seen.

With a sigh, Grall used the Shadow World to jump to Grodaks side. As he did so, Jaradas words echoed in his mind. "The Shadow World can only revive you one more time."