The Daggers of Time

Expulsion would have been far better.

With a shaky hand he undid the clasp that bound his beloved Quan to himself, and the Quan buzzed to life, clinging to him by a force that connected them both. It screamed and wept and pleaded to Elwin with a voice to his soul that drove daggers into his heart, and roused tears to flood both of his eyes, running as droplets beneath his eyewrap. But the headmaster's command was command, and Elwin had no choice but to tear his Quan away with his own hand, to abandon his incarnation and leave it at the mercy of the wilderness beyond his reach. He laid it down on the table, in the presence of both the headmaster and Professor Aionia, whose expressions were soundless and grim. 

His Quan was no more his.

Better it was for him to be banished and be done with, than to have his soul ripped from him, that which he'd forged by the sweat and blood of his brow and which had accompanied him through rain and thunder. It was as if his very own flesh, his child, was rent from him, taken by the arms of fate.

He was once again powerless; he was once again alone, as he'd always been.

He quietly bowed, and stepped out of the Headmaster's Office. From a brisk walk he broke into a run, then a sprint, and ran, and ran, and ran, down the stairs, out of that rotunda, out of the hall of eternal statues, past the colonnades, out of the campus, across the stone bridge and into the township.

The frosty wind of late winter stung his left wrist and arm, as every swing in his sprint made the empty weight known, while his Quan wept for his return like Elwin once did for his father. He did not know how he could ever prove himself worthy to return it again.

He understood what the headmaster had said, as did the gravitas of his crime; but every part of his being throbbed raw with the pain of the unfairness of the world, the pain of loneliness. At every turn, at every corner, destiny conspired against him no matter how hard he tried; no matter his efforts to climb the mountain, in the end, the earth crumbled beneath his feet. The boulder which he had mustered to carry to the top always succumbed to gravity and rolled to its forever-fall down the slopes. There was no one to catch him or console him, and that was how the world simply was: what, in the face of such overwhelming odds, could he do? What was the point to getting up again, the point to climbing the mountain if he knew the world would not allow him?

Elwin raced along the entire length of the township until breath left him.

He spent that night alone, not in his room at the House of Aeternitas, but in a dingy room of a small inn in the outskirts of Aienwater. He no longer cared about the rule that Fradihta had to be back at Aeternitas by 9 o'clock in the evening, or that departure from the campus grounds required prior notice to a professor; to him, possessed by despair, the objections of reason seemed like so many idle complaints. Perhaps he in his sleep would die peacefully, here and now, and no one in the world would miss him; perhaps that was for the best. He was a villain, not only to others, but to himself. 

He closed his eyes and drifted to wordless sleep.

***

"Promise you'll be back, dad?"

"I promise."

Elwin watched through a window of a small shack as his younger self embraced Carl for the last time, that night of nearly seven years ago. 

But no, this time, this far back in time, he could change things. None of the things that came to pass in the future needed to happen. He would race out now and convince his father not to go.

He fumbled for the door-lock in the shack, and tugged on the ring of the handle. But the door did not budge. 

They were parting their embrace.

Elwin pushed his entire weight against the door, and groaned with effort. Still nothing.

His father was giving him his pocket watch.

Elwin kicked on the door with his foot and knees, and kicked, and kicked, and kicked, until blood issued forth from the splinters that drove into them. Still the door wouldn't budge.

His father was stepping away now.

Desperate, Elwin banged upon the window, rattling in its frame, hoping to break it so both could hear his pleas.

"Don't let him leave, Elwin!"

More bangs.

"Don't let him leave, Elwin, DON'T LET HIM LEAVE!" 

He rattled the window in its frame until he could not feel his hands. 

His father had turned and was breaking into a walk towards the gangplank.

"No... NO! DON'T LET HIM LEAVE, IDIOT, DON'T LET HIM LEAVE! DON'T - LET - HIM - LEAVE! DON'T LET HIM LEAVE!" He banged on it with rhythm, shaking the very air around it with its vibrations, but the window was as hard as adamant.

His father was marching inevitably upon that gangplank now, not once glancing back to his son. It was just as Elwin remembered.

And as Elwin rattled his pitiful hands against the tarnished glass for the final time, it broke, and shattered into pieces. Carrying himself faster than his legs ever did his entire life, he scrambled forth from that splintered windowsill and shoved past the crowd of spectators, darted past his younger self, and towards the gangplank, arm outstretched to his father.

"DAD!"

And Carl stopped to look back; but before he could see Elwin as he was, before he could see him one last time, the gangplank broke, and Elwin plunged into the cold water of the harbor below. He clawed at the water to swim upwards, but found his arms as loose as wet paper; air was running out.

From the murky, shadowy depths of the water slithered forth tendrils of black. They latched onto his struggling body and pulled him down and deeper down, the sun above the water's surface dimming to but just a candlelight.

Elwin turned to confront what was accosting him, and found himself face-to-face with the hollow expression of Mr. Sadis, staring back at him, all the joy of the world absent from his eyes. Perhaps he was happy once, and not the reticent, mocking tyrant he remembered from numeracy class.

"Can't even convince your own father to stay! You're a monster, a failure, put into one! You've doomed my son and the children of men!"

Deeper down the depths, Elwin saw tendrils of white hair floating upwards; it materialized into the form of Lucian, who was grinning haughtily at him. He drew three fingers from each of his hands and put them together into the shape of an insect.

"You will always be an ant," Lucian mouthed wordlessly, smirking, bubbles of air loosening from his lips.

Elwin kicked and punched the figures of his past accosting him, but their grip upon his soul were as chains of steel. He had exhausted all air from his lungs, and he was finding himself unable to breathe. Terror struck his heart as his mouth gurgled and the last remaining fizz of air rushed up and beyond his eye, and he felt the icy water ready to enter his lungs to drown him.

But still, no one came.

And perhaps this was how it was meant to be.

With that thought he ceased his struggle and closed his eye, a solitary tear emanating from it to be lost to the ocean.

Goodbye, he mouthed, that perhaps when he was born anew, or brought up to the stars by the Founder SERA, the world would not hate him as it did.

.............

........

...

But it was not yet the end.

As Elwin let go of his will to swim upwards, as he sprawled his arms wide to accept oblivion, a voice pierced the depths and echoed out from above.

Swim.

Elwin lay in the depths, his mind hazy.

There may be a time to embrace oblivion, but it is not now. Not at their hands.

The voice rang out clearer this time, and the light from the dull sun above became wreathed in a halo of light.

You are not alone in your journey, Elwin Eramir. You must not give up yet. You have not failed.

With that line an unknowing fire was breathed to life in his core, and he found himself wanting to live. His story was not over yet, and not in the name of the Seven Naraks was he going to let the fates decide his story for him. He had to try, even if just for the last time.

I bid you to swim, I bid you rise! Rise to become who you can be!

And so he kicked the monsters of the depths in their faces, and opened his eyes. The waters became lit with golden weaves; he pulled them taut and propelled himself up, the sea spraying out as a jet under his feet, dragging the monsters up to the purifying light above. But he could not fully surface; all his effort was balanced by the force that dragged him down. 

At that moment, a brilliant hand splashed down from the surface to grab his; he needed only to reach it.

Take my hand!

He took it firmly, and all the sea from the depths to the surface was illuminated with a light so brilliant that the monsters at his feet disintegrated to dust. He found himself being yanked up, up, and up, out of the ocean, out of his dream, and into reality.

He drew a shocked gasp as he felt his heart jolt to life, and swung himself up on his bed; his hand and arm was outstretched, as if something had pulled him up. He yelped as the second breath he took pierced his sternum with a sensation of needles; gripping his chest tight, nearly keeling over, he heaved in measured breaths trying to restore the rhythm of his heart that he'd lost in his dream.

For a good ten minutes he inhaled, exhaled, and inhaled again; as he did so, the waves of needles piercing his chest withdrew one by one, and the fog in his head retreated little by little to make way for lucid clarity. When he could breathe freely again, wide awake, Elwin was struck with a somber realization of what must have happened: his heart must have stopped in his sleep, and had he not awoken from his dream, it could've had been his last. 

He gathered his arms and embraced himself, sobbing into his sleeves, haunted by the fate he might have had met. Some moments passed until he heard a knock on the door, and before he could leave the bed to unlock it, in entered Professor Aionia, nearly slinking to the floor next to him in exhaustion. She leaned herself upon the shaft of her staff, eyes shut, expression of utmost effort drawn across her face, effort which wouldn't have been demanded if her mission was simply to find him.

And it was there that Elwin understood that his Tanaar had rescued him.

The frightening prospect of what would have happened if Professor Aionia found him too late hung over Elwin like a spectre; yet, the fact that she – whose vow he had broken – came to save him filled Elwin with a measure of gratitude he could not grasp.

Neither of them spoke a word. It was not until the crescent moon finally emerged from the clouds and drenched that room in calming light that Professor Aionia recovered her strength to part the silence.

"...Can you breathe fine?"

Elwin nodded on his pillow, terrified and grateful.

Professor Aionia let out a long sigh, and groaned with effort to stand. She opened the window, and a cool, humid air rolled in from the lake some way away. With a silent rhythm of fingers she drew rivulets of water from the air, and motioned Elwin to cup his hands so he could drink something afresh. The water was cool to his parched lips.

"Can you get to your feet?"

Elwin wiggled his toes and legs. Though they were stiff, he could still walk.

She waited for him to finish drinking, wordlessly watching the glint of moonlight shimmer away in the vanishing water.

Then she spoke.

"Stand, and come with me."