Inheritance of a Guardian

The northern winds blew fierce, howling endlessly against anything that stood or sat on the snow-covered plains of the Northern Province. Ice and snow covered both earth and sky, blotting out the midday sun. Besides the blowing winds and a distant galloping, no other sound echoed.

Asul lay on his brown mare, his head sitting on its mane, shards of ice growing on his long white hair which blew south, following the wind's direction.

The youth was draped in a gray coat and wolf pelt, protecting his deathly pale—and deathly cold—body from the malicious cold. Perhaps the only thing testament to the fact that he was alive was the small fumes of vapor suffusing out of his mouth.

The path ahead was veiled by the snowstorm, constricting vision to only three steps ahead. Three steps. Such limited vision was deadly, and even more so when an enemy tribe was chasing, and the distance between was unknown.

Nevertheless, Asul's mare continued ceaselessly, its resolute steps leaving deep marks on the thick snow. Lucky for them that their trail was instantly covered up by the equally ceaseless snowstorm.

Just like this, a day passed, and eventually two, then three, four, five…

Asul would sometimes wake up, revealing his strangely luminous yellow pupils which shone through the snowstorm. He would drink from the leather canteen of water—it was once water, but it was now solid ice—hanging on the saddle. It was the only thing that kept him alive. Somehow.

How he had survived for this long, he did not know, and neither did he know how his mare had kept on in this cold with little to no breaks. It never neighed, it never complained. The only one who spoke was Asul, occasionally muttering 'Mother' and 'Father' in both wake and slumber.

At the beginning of the sixth day, the brown mare suddenly stopped in its tracks. A stone wall stretched in front of Asul, cracked, frozen, yet somehow sturdy. Its height was unknown, but for the past few minutes it had been darker than it should be; the reason, Asul supposed, was this wall's looming shadow.

He pulled on the reins and looked for a way around, and after a few steps, he found a gap in the wall, a gap large enough for himself and his mare to fit through.

He went in and found himself looking at terrain similar to the one he had journeyed for the last six days: flat, snow-covered plain. The difference was that, inside, the ruins of stone structures stood, some big and some small, but all of them cracked and destroyed, their original forms indiscernible.

The sky lightened as though clouds suddenly parted, and the blowing winds weakened, slowing down before seeming to disappear. Vision returned.

In the distance—a place Asul guessed was the center of these ruins—an unbelievably tall silhouette stood, like a tower, a spire. Whatever it was, it was the most impressive structure Asul had seen, and he felt an odd sense of familiarity towards it.

At the tip of the spire—or tower—a bright yellow light glowed, visible to even Asul who was a great distance away. And for a reason he did not know, he felt an odd inclination to approach the spire, to enter it, to see what was inside.

He did not know it, but his pupils revealed a strange gleam as he beckoned his mare forth. Its leg shook as it trotted forwards, its ribs protruding out. Asul caressed its mane, but he did not let it stop.

"We... have to go," he said, his voice much coarser and dimmer than he had expected, sounding as though he had swallowed a volcanic rock.

He coughed, grit his teeth, and pushed his legs into the mare's ribs, forcing it to speed up. "Once… we reach there, it will... all be fine." This, he somehow knew, though exactly how, he did not know.

The spire enlarged as they approached, the glow on the spire's tip appearing brighter and brighter. This time, footmarks were left behind, uncovered trails waiting for discovery.

After a certain amount of time, Asul could see the spire more clearly. It was a great structure of gray stone, like a giant stone pillar, giant arches stacked on top of each other sculpted on it being the only thing keeping it from looking like an extremely long rock. It was even more impressive up close. Perhaps if not for his situation, Asul would have sat there to appreciate its majesty for a few hours.

The spire neared as they approached. Asul's mare grew more and more weary as time passed, and at some point, it began coughing up mouthfuls of frozen blood. Asul grit his teeth and beckoned it to go forth. "Go."

A few minutes passed—one hour since Asul entered the walls—and Asul found himself standing by the great wooden door, the entrance to the spire. Even the gate was of great scale, reaching a height that—Asul guessed—surpassed that of a thousand tribesmen stacked on top of each other, standing.

It was closed, though. And it seemed impossibly thick—perhaps as much as a regular city wall—and very possibly as heavy as a small hill, a weight Asul would not be able to push even if his whole tribe helped. Now, he was weak, extremely frail, and suffering from a lack of food. He could not push it open.

His horse suddenly collapsed, bringing him along with it to the snow-covered ground. He closed his eyes, he relaxed his body, and vented his pent-up frustration on his lower lip, biting it until he could taste his own blood, awaiting death.

A great voice resounded. "CHILD."

Asul's body twitched. 'They're already here? But I guess it doesn't matter.'

"YOU'VE COME."

Asul's eyelids twitched, and his heart stirred. He opened his eyes and put himself on his feet.

No longer was he outside the great spire, on the cold snow-covered ground.

He was stood on a warm, stone surface. Surrounding him were great stone walls, black, but strangely warm. Above him, these walls stretched endlessly. It was as though he was looking towards a deep, endless abyss, except that he was looking up instead of down. 'Am I inside the spire…?'

"CHILD."

A gigantic yellow translucent figure stood on an elevated platform around a hundred steps away, luminous. It appeared to be a middle-aged man, rough-bearded, rugged, but giving an air of power, of majesty. It wore a white coat, the pelt of what seemed to be a wolf—but with the antlers of a deer, and extremely long teeth that resembled blades—draped over its shoulders.

It smiled. "YOUR EYES ARE JUST LIKE MINE."

Its smile deepened. "YOU MUST BE MY DESCENDANT."

It scanned Asul, then it suddenly frowned. "WHY ARE YOU IN SUCH A STATE? WHO DARES TO TOUCH MY DESCENDANT!?"

Asul covered his ears and stumbled on his knees, a string of blood coming out of his mouth. "W-Who are you?"

Its frown turned into a scowl. "I AM THE GUARDIAN OF THE NORTH PILLAR, THE GOD OF THE NORTH. YOU SHOULD KNOW."

"...G-Guardian of the Northern Pillar? G-God of the North?" Asul gulped and furrowed his brows.

It, too, furrowed its brows. "YOU HAVE MY BLOODLINE. WHY DON'T YOU KNOW THIS?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." Asul shook his head, and his eyes reddened as he continued. "The B-Bloodwolf tribe wiped us out! T-they killed father and did t-that to mother!"

It squinted. "BLOODWOLF TRIBE… I DON'T KNOW OF THIS NAME." It shook his head and clicked its tongue. "THE CLAN HAS DECLINED, I SEE."

"BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE, NOW THAT YOU'RE HERE."

"YOU ARE MY DESCENDANT, A GUARDIAN'S DESCENDANT."

"YOU ARE WEAK, NOW, BUT THIS WILL CHANGE. THE EMPIRE HAS DECLINED, BUT THIS, TOO, WILL CHANGE."

"I CAN MAKE YOU STRONG. BUT I AM A MERE REMNANT SOUL, SO I CANNOT RESTORE THE EMPIRE."

"INSTEAD, YOU WILL DO THAT FOR ME."

The glow in Asul's pupils began to shine intensely, its light starting to rival that of the giant translucent figure, the Guardian. He himself could not see, though. "W-what?"

In the distance, the Guardian's glow began to slowly dim as Asul's eyes brightened. It was as though he was transferring his power, his life force, like the fire of a lit torch making contact with an unlit stick, lighting it up, except its fire was not being spread, but instead given.

Its light grew dimmer, and so did its size. Asul's vision returned as his eyes stopped glowing. He found that the Guardian had shrunk, shrunk to a scale much smaller than before, its size now close to that of a human. It did not take away its majesty, though, for it gave off an air no human could.

"ASUL."

Asul turned his head. "Yes?" His voice came out much livelier—much calmer, much smoother, much louder—than before. It was just a feeling, but he could even hear a strange tint of arrogance in the way he spoke, now.

"THE INHERITANCE IS COMPLETED."

The guardian flickered, turning dimmer by the second, but its voice was still as resounding.

"ASUL."

It flickered again, but this time it did not appear until a whole second passed. It let out a smile, but not one of ruefulness—nor regret, or anything of that sort—but one of mirth, of relief.

"YOU ARE NOW THE GOD OF THE NORTH."

Then, it disappeared.