Poor Dk'brr…

Sometimes, you just had to embrace life's absurdity. As far as long-term solutions went, absurdity was mostly useless, but, man oh man, it could make for moments that just stole your breath away.

Our electro-cetacean ride carried us up into the stormy night. Our flowers were tightened around our antennae like scrunched-up turtlenecks as Lark, Nina, and I fought to keep the wind from blinding us. Even so, the view was nothing short of magical.

Riding atop tchn't't-Dzrtk, we soared over the unknown land. It was like a first dream of flight. The night was alive, sight, sound, and light having merged into a single spirit that animated all that we beheld. Whether they crawled or leapt or ran or flew, the animals of this world filled the night with their cries. The rumpus of their lives illuminated their surroundings, gifting light to the world. The forests and the hills joined them in song, adding their slower harmonies to the symphonic sights. Brief shadows crossed the piebald groves of alien forest spreading out beneath us. Streaks and cones—a brzht's bellow, a sky-whale's song—echoed through the dark, bouncing off giant leaves and stony fangs.

Fangs vines crawled slowly across the plains, migrating toward the warmer south.

Our sky-whale bellowed, spewing light-sound from zyr room-sized hammerhead in a gargantuan parabola. The tchn't't's fin-wings spread out to either side. The winds ruffled their edges.

The air was so cold in those first few, soaring seconds, I thought I was going to die. Yet, strangely enough, as Dzrtk climbed, the chill abated, diminishing as a warm, moist wind buffeted us from behind like a lukewarm smile.

Dzrtk must have entered some kind of jet stream.

Ahead of us, the clouds were rivers and sandstorms, twinkling with the music of skybound plankton.

The tchn't't's hide was firm and dry. There were many shallow cracks and divots for us to easily stick our hands and feet in to keep ourselves from falling or being blown off by the wind. Moss-like growths covered Dzrtk's hide like fur. They crackled with faint traces of charge, providing a soft, constant glow. It was strangely comforting, though slightly less so, once I realized there were small creatures moving around in the stuff.

At that moment, I retroactively regretted letting Ileene show me what whale lice⁠ were like. The memory made me shudder.

The tempest above T'kznd and the enclosing plains spiraled around in a furious, grainy column bristling with lightning's harsh music.

Other tchn't'ts responded to Dzrtk's song, acknowledging zym even as they swam away from us and toward the nourishing storm. Their song streaked across the sky in horizontal waterfalls.

Angel's breath…

Had I been wearing my human body, I would've cried.

I wondered if Dk'brr had ever seen zyr world in this way. I imagined it would have enthralled zym.

Have you ever had one of those moments where, suddenly, out of the blue, everything just hit you? Well, that's what was currently happening to me. I don't know why the Dk'brr's mind-death had hit me as hard as it had, but there was no doubting that that was what was happening.

Beast and Queen, I felt so… so small; like a seashell, lost in the ocean current. Tensed my eight arms and legs, tightening my grip on Dzrtk's body.

Why was this hitting me now? Was I just overdue, or was there a deeper reason behind it?

You know… I think the D'zd world's nocturnal panorama was to blame. It flipped a switch, linking cables, bringing ideas together in a storm of deep thought.

I laughed. The light was barely audio-visible, and self-consciously so. I'd lowered my flower's bell so much that its edge was almost flush with Dzrtk's hide.

Still, it was a laugh, all the same.

I was a bug in a song of ammonia and lightning. I'd looked the Hallowed Beast in the eye from under the shadow of His Wings. I'd experienced Suisei's travels through a plurality of worlds pulled from the edge of imagination. It was awesome, awe-inspiring, and utterly ridiculous.

Absurd, indeed.

I would have loved it if it had been something Mr. Himichi had drawn up in one of his mangas. But it wasn't, and I didn't.

Were epic quests supposed to feel this way, like you were just going through the motions because they were what common decency and everybody else expected you to do? Because that's how I felt.

I was angry.

Empty.

Dk'brr had died for nothing, just like everyone &alon had killed. There were so many wonders they could have known—so many worlds to explore—had their lives not been so rudely interrupted.

I wasn't a Keeper of Paradise, I was a Minister of Lost Causes. It wasn't my job to give the dead a good afterlife; no, it was my duty. I owed it to them, to try to make up for the lives that had been taken from them. Because, frankly, who else was going to do it? I couldn't help but think of how many of &alon's wyrms had chosen to torment the spirits in their care as a way to act out their resentment and grief. &alon's labors had created a perfect hell. Yes, I was kidding myself in thinking that I, alone, would be able to make a difference in that regard. I was just a drop in the ocean. Yet, still, the darker the Night, the brighter the shine of even the tiniest shreds of compassion.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Even so, I'd be lying if I said I was on this adventure because I wanted to be. Quite the opposite. Not even in my wildest dreams did I believe there was anything truly positive I'd be able to get out of my many missions—rescuing Suisei, stopping the Vyx's superweapon, getting justice for &alon's victims, and protecting everyone from the Darkness. Even in that last struggle, I wasn't fighting for anything. You could say I was fighting for survival, but what did that really amount to? Life itself was a constant struggle for survival. But survival wasn't valuable as an end, but only as beginnings.

There's a big difference between a prerequisite and a guarantee.

How could I look my circumstances in the eye and honestly say I would make a positive difference, even if I succeeded? No: I couldn't. I was just stopping things from getting worse, that's all, and only because I was so terrifyingly desperate to not to lose any more of what little I had left.

I had to give Lassedicy credit where credit was due: pride really was the worst sin.

I'd come to think of myself as being far, far more important than I actually was. I'd been so entitled and presumptuous that I'd taken &alon's specious plea for help and turned it into a quest of, for, by my many neuroses: losing myself in helping others so that I wouldn't have to look my own demons in the face; a lifetime spent searching for faith and meaning simply because I was "too good" to accept the faith and meaning that had been given to me; the inveterate cowardice that kept from decisively stepping away from the beliefs I could no longer accept.

Who was I to expect answers to my soul's deepest questions? Who was I to think that I even deserved them?

I'd be lying if I said I had an answer that went beyond basic selfishness. I wanted the answers for myself, to take take take, and hoard them like a greedy dragon.

I shook my head, heavy with the weight of my woes.

Tilting to the side, Dzrtk banked slightly, bringing zymself in reach of a swarm of sky-plankton. The minute creatures twinkled and glistened, whirling about, bobbing on the viscosity of the sandy air. Tchn't't-Dzrtk plunged into the swarm head-first, pelting us and zymself with the plankton, their Charge guttering out as they collided with Dzrtk's head.

That's when I realized ze was feeding off them.

It was truly magical to witness, as if the sky was raining stars. Eventually, we broke out through the other side of the storm, toward the yonder beyond it.

Bits of Brand's theories about ammonia life filtered through my thoughts, giving me brief insight. It was as if this world was daring me to search for its secrets and unravel its mysteries; I, who knew so little; I, who was so often wrong.

The Genneth who sat and listened to Merritt's request to kill her on that fateful autumn morning had been a man who'd wanted to believe in a God he couldn't believe was truly good. I would say we were entirely different people, if it wasn't for the fact that we were one and the same. I was a continuation of him, just as he was a precursor to who I had now become.

Looking back, in a sick, twisted way, my adventures with Andalon—the girl, not the truth—had brought me to a place where the faith that I'd been given could finally be the faith I'd always yearned to have. Under her influence, I'd come to think and feel that I'd finally figured out the pesky struggle people called faith. &alon, the fungus, the demons, Hell—all of it was at once both so familiar and yet so different. The dreams of all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving perfection I'd been raised to revere didn't even exist in their own myths, let alone the real, life-drunk world. The Godhead was flawed. The Angel was gone. Paradise was lost. The Hallowed Beast was buried and dead.

God was so much more relatable when he, she, or it was as troubled and imperfect as we were. Up until those final moments, when I learned the terrible revelation of what &alon really was, I really had felt that I'd finally figured it out. I finally discovered the truth. Here were the secret answers I'd spent my whole life chasing. The Angel wasn't our judge, jury, and executioner; no, He needed our help. Humanity didn't break the world; we were here to help perfect it. Armed with that knowledge, I'd gained the conviction I'd always yearned for. Andalon had helped me find a God I could not only believe in, but fight for.

There was just one problem, though…

It wasn't true. None of it was true.

Oh God…

I shuddered.

Look at Dk'brr. He died of no fault of his own. His only crime was believing in what he thought was right.

Happily ever after really was just for fairy tales.

When this was all over—if it ever was—… would I still have my family? What would happen to us in the strange reaches of eternity?

However, for better and for worse, a man can only navel-gaze for a certain amount of time before other people poke their heads in and see what's going on.

"You've been rather quiet, Zhn'nt," Dzrtk said. Zyr luminous rumble shook me out of my funk. "I figured you'd have more questions."

"I do," I said, "it's just—"

"—It's a lot," Lark interjected. "Hell, it's too much. It's waaaaay too fucking much."

I nodded glumly.

"Well," Nina said, raising her head, "I, for one, have a big, important question to ask."

"Yes?" Dzrtk asked.

"Dzrtk," she said, "you died. I saw it." Nina gestured at Lark and myself. "Everyone did. When your squad attacked Dk'brr's group out in the badlands, when your friends' bodies were killed, their souls disappeared from the bodies of the animals they'd been inhabiting, and they sure as hell didn't come back to life!"

"I've been waiting for you to ask about that," Dzrtk replied.

"W-wait… you have?"

Nina had to duck down, briefly, to avoid a sandy current of plankton-filled clouds.

"Yes," the tchn't't replied. "It's my people's greatest secret, and our single most important advantage in our struggle against the Dominion."

"Then why are you blabbing about it?" Lark asked.

The sky-whale crooned in amusement. Light streamed from zyr hammerhead like steam from a locomotive.

"I would like to trade," ze said. "My knowledge for yours."

"What do you want to know?" Nina asked.

"Tell me about those tricks of yours, N'n (Nuh-Nuh)."

Nina glanced at me. "Dr. Howle?"

"It's your decision, Nina. I…" I shook my head. "Honestly, I really don't feel like talking that much."

"Is something wrong?" Dzrtk asked.

I waved an arm dismissively. "Oh, you know, just the usual." My bad mood was positively oozing out from the light of my words. "There is no God, neither one or many. No spirits. Nope, nothing of the sort. There's no purpose to anything. Life is just the muck of unexpected chance straining against the forces of entropy. Its only 'reward' is getting to raise its head and let others know it's in pain, assuming there's anyone around who cares to hear that and understand." I shook my head. "Poor Dk'brr. Ze deserved better."

I could have dumped a thirty pound turd on Dzrtk's back and gotten a better reception than my despair had.

"Dude…" Lark said, "what the fuck?"

"I'm not doing well, okay?" I looked up at the sky. "I've been trying to hold my feelings in because I know that what we're doing is important, but… I can't do it forever. The dam's gonna break. Repressing your feelings in the long term is almost always unhealthy. But… we can deal with that later, when the time is right. We've got a mission to do, and everybody is depending on us." I lowered my flower in guilt. "It isn't right for me to burden you with all my bad decisions."

There was another silence.

"I still can't get over the fact that I mistook the Darkness for &alon," I added, mumbling dully.

"Is ze always like this?" Dzrtk asked.

I sighed.

"Dzrtk, I mean no offense, but I'm not really in the mood to be interrogated by a whale." I glanced at Nina. "Please, Nina, could you just talk with Dzrtk about your abilities. I could really, really use the distraction."

There was a pause.

"Please?" I added.

"Alright," Nina said, with a nod. "Dzrtk… you go first."

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