The old man trembled and spoke exhilaratingly. "Yes!"
"Tell me where paradise is."
"It is before me!" the man said, a manic smile spreading over his face. "In you is paradise. You point at it, and only through you can we attain it."
"What is the sun?" Merrin felt his strength wane.
"The bringer of life."
"And what do you call me?" +
"You. You are the sunBringer!"
"So, what do I bring to you?"
"You bring life."
"And that is true." The gray world rippled like a sea's wave, strange shapes and colors blurring into view within them. "I say this to you now! You will see paradise. You'd taste it, feel it as it washes over your face. None will stop it from happening. As I said before, I say again, these words are mine to command. And they reveal what is to happen.
The room shone brighter, and servs of green and orange swarmed frantically. An abruptness of color.
And thus the el'shadie stood before them.
His hair whipped as though caught in a storm, but there was no storm to force it. The man, the being, had eyes that shone like pure crystal, a wave of calmness coming over all who laid eyes on him. Behind, over his head, was a ring of hard light, shining brightly across the room.
He was like a god amongst men.
And in a language unknown to many, he said to them, "Ala eth nara velun, alai ira."
It meant: I am the path ahead that moves alone….Recorded from the obituary of an unnamed sun witness, said to have been written in a dream.
Merrin climbed the ladder, instilled with blue froststones, orange servs floating about him in a glee of sorts. Amazingly, none of it bothered him, and instead acted as strength for the smile pressed hard on his face. His heart, too, resonated with this feeling. Banging aloud, it went. A beat of power, liberation, and freedom.
He had saved them—freed them from death. Halo! He thought piously, then reached for the stone ledge, wincing at the pain. Pulling himself up, Merrin rolled into the cave before standing as quickly as he could.
The narrow walls of crude stone were now thoroughly illuminated by the wall lamps, like slabs painted a clear whiteness. It was good, however, with such radiance came revelation. Due to the light, the corpses sprawled on the floor, charred, dried, steamed, all of which were brought to the gaze of all. Even the dying who could stand no more could only sit, their bodies reeking of burnt flesh and meat.
He looked away from it, eyes lowering to the floor. He would not see them—it was a risk he could not take. Despite everything, the darkness of his heart still lingered enough that he could feel it breathing down his neck. Even for a moment of hesitation—if he was to despair, then that filthy weakness would return.
Merrin would not allow for it. For his people, the witnesses, he would not despair.
With quick strides, he found a cave at the side of the wall, the door as low as his torso. This was the same one Ron had brought him to. Of course, this was not something like a designated room, but Merrin felt going anywhere else could incur the wrath of one of the many leaders in the mines.
For all he knew, he could end up in the room of one such leader.
Better to stay clear.
As always, the room was mostly empty except for the slabs of stone and dried filth. Though it was considerably brighter, the amount of froststones on its walls had plundered further. Likely, in a day or two, the room would be bereft of them.
He observed this passively, then moved to the side of the room.
There, Merrin unfurled the cloth around his neck. Given by Ron for the heat, the giant of a man wasn't at all reluctant to lend it again. Which was strange. After all, for something that essentially gave one the ability to sit on the earth's burned floor, the owner seemed nonchalant about its use.
Maybe he has another? Merrin thought. Who knows what's inside those sleeves of his. And he seems to enjoy standing than sitting.
Spreading the dark, foamy cloth over the floor, he carefully laid it down and watched for a moment to judge whether it would burn. He knew it wouldn't, but one couldn't be too safe. Fortunately, time passed hurriedly, and nothing happened.
Good.
He heaved a breath at the outcome, before retrieving his thoughts to what he aimed for. It made him a bit apprehensive, but he had to check.
Maybe it won't be that bad…He thought. Just a scar or two. Regrettably, he knew the likelihood of him being without harm was low. Chances were that he was now a man worn by mangled flesh or even one charred black. After all, what man took the blow of the sky and remained alive for it?
Just get on with it! He snapped in his thoughts
This fueled him as he slowly trailed his fingers through his worn sleeves, then steadily began to fold them. He could attempt removing the whole thing, but given how his froststone was embedded in his clothes, chances were that he would become a pile of ash before he could wear them back.
This would have to do for now.
Merrin folded his sleeves to his shoulders, his pale, taunt skin gleaming transparent under the white lamp light. He stared at it for a while, then exhaled. Other than the calluses and bony flesh, there was no scar or mark on them.
To the other one, then.
He did the same with the second sleeve, then his legs…Surprisingly, other than some minor scares, there was no injury. Was he really that lucky?
Merrin looked at his chest—the place Moeash was dabbing with the filthy rag.
There had to be something else there…If there wasn't, then what was moeash cleaning?
Carefully, he pulled the shirt up, making sure not to disturb the froststone around his chest. He did not desire to burn—at least not after all that he had done. Which, in counting, wasn't a lot, but still….His thoughts drifted as his breath froze in his lungs.
It was worse than he thought. Char, that was what his chest was. Just a dark, brittle sear. No flesh, no sign of anything, just crude scorch. How was he even alive?
What had saved him? It could be any number of things! Merrin closed his eyes. I suppose I should be happy it doesn't hurt. He thought as relief settled over him. His fingers, however, edged close to the layer, curious about the skin's surface.
He felt it and like fingers scrubbing against dry sand, his flesh gave the same feeling. Arid, lifeless, his own skin felt a stranger to him. No, he couldn't feel it all. Despite touching it harder now, outside the sense from his fingers, his body gave him no inkling that he touched it.
Merrin sighed. A price, he thought only that before settling his clothes down. Eyes, drawing around the room. The silent peace helped his mind wander, memories of what he had done ordering within his will.
sunBringer, they called him. Yet, outside the simple meaning the word gave, he did not know its origins. Why was the Gresendent sister so repulsed by it? These were questions he had, but sadly, he had no one to ask them.
It wasn't like he could pick up any of them and ask: "I don't understand what a sunBringer is, can you explain it?"
Well, thinking of it, it doesn't seem that bad, he pondered, his sense returning to the time he had been given. Seven days! Seven days, he had to think or do something that would change the outcome that had been placed before him. Worse now, given what the witnesses had seen, soon his name would spread through the minds.
What would the Gresendent sister do about it? Merrin feared retribution, but not as much as he feared losing those people. His eyes lowered to his palm; what could these hands do? Caster, el'shadie, scraper, slave. In just a few days, I've become many things. What can I achieve with them?
He settled his hands atop each of his knees, head lowered so that his hair licked warm on his cheeks. What to do? He could try many things, he suspected, but knowing what exactly to do was a different issue.
Merrin reached for a stone at the border of the black cloth, his fingers burning at the sudden but expected heat. He rubbed his fingers over the roughness, feeling the heat quell as it dissipated with time.
What he needed was to do something that wouldn't fade with time. Something strong enough that the sister would not dismiss. Something that gave him worth.
I could just tell them I'm el'shadie, he thought, then reined himself for the foolish notion. How can I tell them that? I don't even know what it means. Maybe that bird would tell me more? Merrin deliberated while reflecting on what happened at the end of his supposed ascension.
For all he knew, that failure could have taken away whatever gift he had as el'shadie. But again, he did retain powers. Merrin looked up, and the world turned gray around him.