The Recollections of Darquill

I remember the Reckoning.

It simultaneously feels like a fresh memory from yesterday and an almost forgotten nightmare so long, long ago. The time that Avakon burned, and so many, I included, ran headlong to into a destructive frenzy that was only quieted when we realized there was nothing left.

I've spoken to the other Survivors many times over my long life. Their recollections seem as clear as my own. The shame the recollections bring is, likewise, just as deep. But, interestingly, while most of us remember the Reckoning, the end result of the endless wars we waged on our brothers and sisters; the memories of the actual conflicts that lead to it are hazy. We barely remember what we were even fighting over. Sure, there are some vague notions of territory, resources, honor...but the context behind these concepts is lost. Were resources low? Well, they must have been! But why? No one can recall. And sometimes that makes us question our own memories. Were those the true catalysts behind the wars? Or are we just guessing? Perhaps some base impulse compels us to try and ascribe some meaning behind the violence; justify it in some way so the shame is less heavy. But it never works. I've stood on the edge of oblivion that follows war. And it is only because of a miracle that I didn't fall.

Ordin, my dear brother, knew all along. He refused from the beginning. It was never in his nature to fight. Art was his passion. Gentleness was his nature. Curiosity was his spirit. He was pure. For him, there was more value in watching a sunset and capturing its essence in oil on a canvas than a thousand rifles given to a thousand soldiers. He was pure.

It was I who soiled him. I thought he was weak; misguided. I told him his art would mean nothing if our enemies prevailed. I expounded unto him the honor of combat and the virtue of our cause and the pride behind our banner. Our enemies had none of these traits. And that's why we would win. Why we MUST win. Our very way of life was at risk and it was our DUTY, our MISSION, to fight. To refuse was cowardly. Peace could only be attained through victory. Our enemies would never allow peace. It was the antithesis to their way. Don't you see, Ordin? Can't you see that your pacifism is costing more lives? You're killing us by not fighting. And when the enemy wins, they will not thank you. They will throw you onto a pile of corpses and set you ablaze. I was hungry for war. Desperate to show my honor and valor. Ready to purge the wicked and the vile. To cleanse Avakon of those not worthy of her.

Oh...oh, Ordin. Ordin! Poor Ordin! Poor, poor Ordin! What did I do to you, poor brother? I didn't know then. If only I could hold you now! I would recant all that I tried to instill in your soul. I would tell you to paint! To write! To play your instruments! I would tell you to drop that vile rifle! Bury it! Bury it deep and let it rust and erode to nothing! It should be you here today! You leading our precious Avakon. Not me! It should be me hanging on that accursed stone! It was all lies, Ordin! Viscous lies! Forgive me, Ordin! I was young and foolish then! You were the strong one! Not me!

...I remember the Reckoning. The end of the wars. Not a trace of sunlight could make it through the smog of ash and smoke that blanketed Avakon. The only light were from the forest as they were razed from the bombs.  There was not a piece of green life as far as the eye could see. The rivers ran with blood and oil and waste; the oceans ran much the same. All that had been built had been reduced to crumble. No birds sang for there weren't any left; they had choked ago. They had no masks to protect them. We didn't notice their absence....perhaps Ordin did.

There were only a handful of us left. I didn't know at the time. But if someone had told me I doubt it would have moved me much. I don't know how we survived the massacre. Fate perhaps? I remember Celest crying. She was a doctor; a tender soul. Just like Ordin, who stood by her side, watching our world quickly shrivel to ash. That was the first time I saw my brother die. I saw something in his eyes just fade away. At long last, and far far too late, I finally questioned the lies that had been taught to me. Celest wept. Ordin did as well. So did the rest. They wept with a grief so pronounced that still haunts my dreams so many years later. They started with slow sobs and gradually rose to wailing with all their souls. For they knew that they were witnessing the end of history. But I didn't weep. I felt almost nothing. I had a hand in the destruction I saw. I had wished for it. I had gotten what I wanted and more. Who was I to cry now? I could only sit, my soul feeling hollow, and wait for the Darkness to take me. It was what I deserved; it would be mercy.

Then...Light.

It tore through the ash, cast them away, and bathed the land in a brilliant beam. My vision was blinded but my eyes did not burn. I felt something surge within me, filling that hollow hole inside of me, overtaking my senses. I could not hear the others, but I was not worried. Not even frightened. The Light did not trample me in its powerful rush, but rather enveloped me. Cradled me. I felt warm, when mere seconds I had felt a cold deep to my bones. I no longer felt numb. Instead, I felt love. But it wasn't my love. Rather someone else's. I felt I was being loved.

When at last my vision returned to me, I beheld a brilliant blue sky. And below it? Fields of lush green grass, dotted with wildflowers. Wind whispered through the vast forests in the distance. The air was clean and fresh and cool. A lake, one that had been plowed over long ago to make space for an ever growing war machine, had returned; its pristine water sparkled like a dazzling gem in the warm sunlight which touched my face.

We looked at this paradise with awed confusion. Moments we had stood teetering on the edge of extinction. Now...we...what were we looking at? I can't speak for the others, but I thought I was dying. The poisonous air had sapped me of my strength and I had lost consciousness. And before the poison seeped into my brain, I was having a vision of what my home had once been. A final grim reminder of what I had destroyed before forever descending into the dark abyss of oblivion. But then, I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I looked up to see Kratto, a fellow soldier whom I had fought alongside with. I could see the same confused awe on his face. He helped me to my feet. We both had the same question on our lips but neither had the will to speak it. Celest and Amalysee sat near us. A few more behind them and the rest behind Kratto and myself.

And Ordin stood before us all. His gaze fixed high in the sky. I followed it. We all did.

That was the first time I beheld The Great Mother.

Her eyes, awash with endless vibrant colors, gazed upon us from the very heavens. Light poured endlessly from Her very being. Tears flowed from Her caring eyes and Her love soothed our troubled souls. And it was love. We felt that immediately. Though Her size was immense, far greater than anything I had ever beheld (and to this day I have seen nothing surpass it), I felt no fear. No one did. I know they didn't. Many times throughout the millennia I have asked and every time they repeat the same answer. We should have been afraid in the face of something so powerful. But we weren't. Perhaps a little shaken from our brush with death, but not frightened of Her.

We were guided to the lake. Trees and shrubs filled with sweet fruit and hearty vegetables sprouted up from the ground as if called upon. And they were, of course. We ate and drank from the lake. I could see fish swimming in the pristine water. For the first time in a long time I head songbirds sing. I had forgotten their sweet melody and hearing it now awakened something in me. I finally began to weep. Ordin saw and came to my side. Even after everything I had done; all the hate I had tried to taint his mind with. He came to me without hesitation.

We sat in silence. Up above, She watched without word. No thunderous judgment, nor powerful decree or command. Just careful silence. The only sound was the beat of Her heart. The sound rolled across the fields and over the mountains in the distance. I felt it gently reverberate in my body and soul. The Light all around us pulsed with it. So did the stars in the sky as night slowly fell. Everything aligned in perfect synchrony with the rhythmic pace of Her heart. It was a soothing sound and I felt more exhausted than I had ever before and have never felt since. Under Her gaze, we slept.

It was only then did She speak to us.

She didn't speak with words, but with visions. Perhaps it was the only way She could explain what she wanted to. Equations and images flooded our dreaming minds and when we awoke our minds were dripping with the knowledge She had selflessly shared with us. The Reckoning had destroyed everything. Our libraries had been reduced to ash. The coming of The Great Mother and Her Light had removed the ruin and rubble, giving a clean slate. With the knowledge She shared we could rebuild. Like re-tilling a garden, something new and beautiful could grow. We set to work immediately, crafting tools from sticks and stones we could find. At first we were hesitant to touch the trees. Such pristine forests had been wiped away and we did not know if we were ready to soil them again after they had been so kindly replanted. But She gently bid us to do what we needed, and so we began to work and fell new lumber. As quickly as they fell they regrew themselves, spurred on by Her presence.

We worked. The air was cool and refreshing, the sun's heat tame. Silently, She watched. Slowly a small village began to take shape around the lake. By the time night darkened the sky again, all of us had a new home. We huddled around a campfire, fresh produce springing up from vines and trees that seemed to extend to us as if offering themselves. We were just as silent as our mysterious visitor. It was the shame. And the confusion. We knew what we had done, but we didn't know why our extinction had been prevented. None of us could meet the celestial eyes that carefully watched over us from the starry sky. But as we slept, Her words gently flowed into our dreams again, filling our minds with wondrous knowledge and ideas. And when we awoke again, we continued to work and She continued to watch without much of a word.

As the next night came, I could take it no longer. As the others lay down for another night, I instead left the village and headed for the mountains. I hiked to the top of the tallest summit I could muster and stood before those watchful eyes. I could feel the Light swirl around me as Her attention focused on me. My heart raced, my body shook; but I gathered what courage I could and called out to Her.

Why have you come? Why did you save us?

For a moment, the only response was the continuous beat of Her own heart. Then, the color of Her eyes began to shift. The rainbow palette was replaced by a vibrant pink and deep red, and a warm smile stretched on her lips. The Light She had placed within me began to glow around my body like an embrace and I felt warmth touch every corner of my being. Love. It was all I needed to know. I fell to my knees and began to sob. I wailed for Her forgiveness. For her pity. Again, her response was silence, but Her Light still wrapped around me. At some point I must have passed out, for the next thing I remember is waking up back in the village.

We knew She would leave. Without ever saying a word, the thought spread among us. Some of us, including myself, tried to cling to the desperate hope that She would remain with us for the rest of our days. But something deep within us all knew that this was not to be. Our eyes kept glancing up to the sky, constantly checking to see if She had left our side. Throughout the day, She remained, but our unease was growing and it kept us awake as the night returned.

So She began to sing.

Her voice was divine, her melody a balm. The flora were spurred into more growth, Light pouring from them as if they were singing along. I felt I should sing as well. So did some of the others. But we didn't. Our unease prevented it, but we surrendered to sleep all the same. And the next day, our fears were confirmed. The sky was empty. Silence ruled the air.

She was gone.

A great wave of despair and sadness overcame us all and many began to cry. But this disaster was cut short as a new sound rang. It was not a joyous sound and it rang from the mountains. We followed it and hiked up the same summit I had climbed before and found poor Ordin at the top. His voice was hoarse and yet he still roared out to the heavens with despair that far surpassed the rest of ours. Tears endlessly rolled down his cheeks and he constantly thrust his arms towards the sky as if praying that something would reach out and take his hand.

Come back, he wailed, please...come back. Don't leave us. Come back. Please. PLEASE. We won't survive without you. Come back. Please.

Please.

We tried to carry him back to the village but he wouldn't budge. The few times we managed to carry him back he would eventually break free and sprint back up to the summit and resume begging and wailing up to the sky. For several days he stayed up there, wailing and pleading. How he managed to do so I do not know. But finally, one day, we awoke to silence. Quickly, we hurried back up the mountain and found him laying on the ground, sobbing. His voice was gone. I never heard my brother speak again while he was alive. Again, we carried him back to the village. This time he did not resist. He lay quietly in his bed the entire day, not eating or drinking. Only sobbing soundlessly.

Ordin had been the only one to witness The Great Mother's departure. A part of me is glad I did not. Seeing the empty sky was painful enough. To watch Her leave might have broken my spirit, maybe as much as poor Ordin's.

We continued to work. It was all we could do. The work could only distract our distraught minds from the absence of our Great Mother, who had reached out her hand and pulled us back from oblivion. There was no pause. No one wanted a free moment to think. We toiled through the night by torches and continued on more of the same when the daylight returned. Many had watched the starry sky in hopes that those celestial eyes could be spotted among the countless dots. They were not. Eventually, exhaustion overtook us and we were forced to do what we dreaded most; endure a night without our Great Mother's voice speaking sweetly in our dreams. I remember I had no dreams that night. Just darkness.

The next morning I went to check on Ordin and found his bed empty. Panicked, I rousted the others from their sleep and we spread out to search for him. He was nowhere in the village. Nor had he returned to the summit. It was hours before I got the premonition to return to where we had all been when the Reckoning had been upon us; when the Light had first pierced the ash filled sky and brought a new dawn onto a people who richly did not deserve it.

I had thought that there were no remains of anything from before the Reckoning. But I was wrong. There had been some rubble from a building; a wall with a concrete beam in the center. Carved into the wall one side of the beam were statues of Avakonians waged in a raging, ravenous fight. The faces were angry and cruel. On the wall on the opposite side were the same faces, but now racked with grieve and sadness that cannot be described with mere words. At their stone feet lay stone corpses; lots of them. Atop the concrete beam jut out a rebar beam. Hanging from it was Ordin, a length of chain wrapped around his neck.

My brother. Dead.

Ordin! Poor Ordin! At first I wanted to be angry. How could She leave us and let my brother take his life! But I knew I couldn't cast my blame towards Her. It was not She who tainted his pure spirit and helped stoke the fires that ravaged Avakon. I was overcome with grief.

But then Light began to glow from Ordin and his statues. We beheld Ordin as his eyes began to glow. All at once visions flowed through our minds. Images of the war. Of bloody fights and atrocious acts of violence. All from Ordin's eyes. I saw my pure brother commit acts that even made my soul shudder. And it was I who had convinced him to fight. We saw the ruined land, the ash filled sky, the dying world. In mere seconds, we relived it all. Finally, we saw, from his eyes, The Great Mother depart, her celestial forming drawing from Avakon and disappearing far into the infinite night of space. We felt Ordin's despair. His guilt. His loss of hope.

The visions faded and we were back on the healed planet left in The Great Mother's wake. And though his body remained limp at the end of the chain, Ordin's voice, chocked with tears and heavy with despair, began to speak.

Brothers and sisters, hear me! The Great Mother has left us...and I fear we will not survive. I fear that we will succumb to our Darkness in the absence of her loving Light. We did not deserve her love, and I cannot bear witnessing the end of the world again. Please...carry her Light with you! Love each other without question as she did for us! Don't let the hate that caused bombs to rain in our skies absorb your thoughts again! Don't let ash and death linger in the skies again! Sing songs of peace and let them echo across the heavens for all to hear! Don't let out world burn again! Please! Please...please...

Ordin's words faded, as did the Light around his final, somber piece. The Statue of Ordin remains standing to this day. Thoughout the years, Ordin's spirit has watched over Avakon and her children. War is easy; peace is not. Inevitably, conflict arose among us. Divisions were created and fights broke out. And when these transgressions arose, Ordin's voice would call us back to his statue and his visions of despair, of the the wars and the Reckoning, would plague our minds again. This is our curse; the price for our second chance. We must relive our greatest shame. For a time, some of us wanted to silence Ordin. Even I grew weary of his haunting message. But we resisted. To silence Ordin would be to allow Darkness to overtake us. That path would eventually go right back to another Reckoning.

And The Great Mother might not reach her hand out this time.

So we kept the Statue of Ordin up. Doing so, and resisting the tempting call of war, was the most difficult thing any of us have ever done. But eventually, our hearts softened towards each other. Time healed the wounds of resentment and eventually gave way to a sense of community. We bonded and sang together in honor of The Great Mother and of poor Ordin. The Statue began to call us less and less, but it still beckoned us from time to time, lest we forget its somber message. Now, there is nothing but love among me and my brothers and sisters. Of course, love isn't always easy and often involves a lot of pain. But we now understand that, even if we may differ in our opinions and beliefs, our love is still the foundation of our society. And that allows us to band together.

It was what let us walk among the stars. We will follow in our Great Mother's footsteps. We Avakonians do not deserve to be here. But we are. And it is our responsibility, our mission, to do whatever we can to make the most of our second chance. And we can only do that by bringing Light to those in the dark.