Chapter 767 - Without Roots

For a while, Zeke just wandered the Ways, which had been entirely reconstituted by the Creator.  It was a display of power Zeke could only barely understand, though he could at least recognize that it wasn’t all on that omnipotent being.  Instead, he’d simply retraced the paths already set down by the Waymaster.  Even dead, its power lingered to the point where it had left an indelible mark on reality.

The Creator merely latched onto what was already there, which was probably the only reason he’d been able to recreate the network.  Otherwise, doing so would have taken thousands upon thousands of years. 

Whatever the case, Zeke was grateful for it, if only because it made things more convenient.  He could traverse reality without issue, even using the gates regardless of whether they were connected to one of the Ways.  Yet, if he had to do it himself, it would have been much too slow.

He knew where he was going, but he was hesitant to arrive.  Thus, the wandering.  As he traversed the Ways, he periodically dipped into other worlds, and he saw life in a very different way.  Before, he’d not realized just how little of reality he’d experienced.  Just a small corner here and there.  Certainly not the breadth of all existence that now stood at his fingertips.

He took the opportunity for what it was, as much to procrastinate as to see things he otherwise would not have.  Whole civilizations, most of whom were entirely unaware of the wider reality, lay before him.  Some were vaguely familiar, largely because they resembled societies from Earth.  But most were entirely alien, featuring structures and races of aliens he never could have imagined. 

He kept himself apart from those people.  After all, he didn’t want to draw too much attention.  Because if he knew one thing, it was that being different was often enough to prompt attack.  And the last thing he wanted was to have to kill more innocent people.  No – his goal was to save as many as he could. 

That was the whole point of the Creator’s plan.

For nearly five years, he delayed the inevitable.  Five short years that felt more like a few days.  Most of that was spent in the Ways, which were almost universally abandoned.  It was eerie, walking across that system of interdimensional bridges.  The Waymaster’s destruction had sundered most of the settlements, so very little remained of the people who’d once called the Ways home.  But a few had managed to survive.

More would come, Zeke was certain.  So long as the gates remained open, people would find them and begin exploration.  One day – perhaps in thousands of years – it would return to its former glory, with massive cities and a system of stations along the bridges. 

But for now, it was an eerie setting, as much because of the desertion as because Zeke knew precisely what was on the other side of that ephemeral shield.  He didn’t fear much in the world, but the notion of being entirely unmade was one that, if he still slept, would have kept him up at night. 

Not because he was afraid of dying.  Rather, he was afraid of nonexistence.  Of that great void that waited on the other side of death.  Trying to wrap his head around such a concept left him confused and more than a little apprehensive. 

The remaining residents of the Ways avoided him, and not without reason.  He knew he looked wild, with simple clothes, no shoes, and hair that had grown entirely out of control. 

He could have changed his appearance.  Just a few bits of thread manipulated one way or another, and he could have looked any way he wanted to look.  Yet, he just didn’t see the point.  He had no one to impress.  No one to connect with.  He was all alone, and if he was honest with himself, he preferred it that way. 

It wasn’t that he was antisocial by nature.  He’d never been a people person, but he could get along just as well as the next man.  However, with his fate looming over him, he didn’t see any reason to connect with someone and put them through the pain of his loss. 

Or the agony of another goodbye.

Bidding farewell to Pudge and Eveline had been among the most difficult experiences of his long life.  And that was including slaying gods and learning the manipulate the very threads of reality.  Seeing their sadness.  Their anxiety.  Their relief.  It was almost enough to question the choices that had led him to that eventuality.

But he remained steadfast.  He would do his duty.  He would fulfill his promise to the Creator.  And then, secure in the knowledge that reality would go on – at least long enough that everyone he knew would have a chance to live out their lives – he would finally give in to his fate.

The fear of another goodbye was probably the reason he wandered for so long.  That terrified him as much as being swallowed by the Abyss. 

In truth, it wasn’t because he was afraid of seeing the now-familiar disappointment painted across Talia’s face.  He expected as much, and he thought he was ready for it.  Rather, now that he knew his time was coming to an end, he was afraid that seeing her would make him question his decision. 

What would he do if she asked him to stay?

Could he refuse?  Did he even want to?  And if he did turn her down, would she beg?  No.  That wasn’t Talia.  More likely, she would react stoically.  Perhaps she might even insult him. 

The fact was that Zeke didn’t really know what to expect, either from Talia or from himself.  And for a man who prided himself on being in control of his own fate, that was a terrifying thing indeed.

Eventually, his path led him to a familiar gate, and he realized there was nothing he could do to delay the inevitable.  With a sigh, he embraced the anxiety in his heart and stepped through.  Immediately, he felt a blanket of deathly mana settle onto his broad shoulders as he looked upon the city in the distance. 

He had arrived in New Beacon – the copy of Darukar Talia had built to function as a sanctuary for all undead people.  It had grown in the centuries since he’d last visited, sprawling across the land like a forest of black buildings trimmed in glowing red.  In the distance, he saw Talia’s home.  A delicate palace of black crystal that loomed over the entire city like a protective gargoyle. 

“Alive,” said a nearby guard who’d been tasked with protecting the gate.  “Strong.”

The other, a stick thin creature Zeke recognized as a wight, replied, “Too strong.  A greater god, at least.”

Zeke cleared his throat.  “If you stand in my way, I will destroy you,” he stated evenly.  “I don’t want to do that.  My goal is reach your leader.  Talia will receive me.  When I’m done, I will leave in peace.  No one needs to die.”

Fortunately, the pair of guards chose the path of nonviolence, though the wight, armored in all black, did insist on guiding him forward.  The road twisted from the gate down a mountain and across a narrow plain before entering the city proper.  Along the way, Zeke couldn’t ignore the twisted version of life they had cultivated.  Beneath it all, there were just threads, but the outward expression upon reality was something wholly different from most of nature.  In all his travels, he’d seen nothing quite like the tangled weave of life and death suffusing the planet.

Of course, he’d been there once before, but back then, he’d not been capable of seeing so deeply.  It was almost enough to convince him that he could rival the Creator. 

But he knew better.

The mere memory of his incalculable and indomitable power was enough to remind him of just how superior the Creator truly was.  If Zeke was an ant, then that unknowable entity was an entire galaxy unto himself.  Standing against that sort of strength wasn’t just stupid.  It was unfathomable. 

The city was a fair recreation of Darukar that he hadn’t really appreciated in his first trip.  The river was in the same place.  The major landmarks were familiar as well.  But most of all, the people were similar.  More powerful, certainly.  At least a third were lesser gods – ascendents from the lower planes, primarily.  Yet the forms they’d taken were much the same as what Zeke had seen in the Eternal Realm.

Almost to an uncanny degree.

The wight led Zeke to the stairs that would take him to the palace, where he handed Zeke off to a different, more elaborately armored guard.  The new escort was far more powerful, to the point where if she’d had a following of her own, she might’ve made a run at greater godhood.

But there was more to taking that step than mere strength.  It required millions of worshippers as well.  And that kind of devotion wasn’t common among people who could wield incredible power on their own.  The drive necessary to reach those levels often precluded the notion of worshipping someone, largely because those people usually believed they would one day reach that level themselves.

That was why greater gods were so rare.

Or one of the reasons, at least.  Zeke scarcely understood the others, though.  He’d never needed to learn those rules.

Such thoughts accompanied him as he climbed the stairs.  Along the way, he considered simply yanking on one of the threads and launching himself into the palace.  However, the time it took to climb the stairs played into his hesitation. 

He didn’t want to see Talia.

But he needed to do just that, and not just to say goodbye.  He also wanted to feel her in his arms one last time, to hear her voice, even if it carried an insult.  In his mind, he imagined a last kiss that she would remember for the rest of her long life.

He didn’t expect those thoughts to manifest into reality, though.  He’d made too many mistakes.  He’d crossed too many lines.  And he would never be able to banish her memory of his abandonment.

At best, he could offer closure.

That would have to be enough to see her through. 

So it was that, after traversing a maze of corridors, most of which had been tastefully decorated according to the overall style of the city, he finally reached what appeared to be a throne room.  And there, at the end of a long chamber lined with columns, sat Talia on a silver throne.

Seeing her brought back a thousand emotions he would have preferred to remain buried.  But most prominent among them was love, followed by regret.  It seemed that most of his relationships boiled down to the latter, though the ferocity with which he felt the former rage within his chest was surprising enough to make him skip a step.

She pretended not to notice.

The echo of his feet slapping against the cold tile bounced off the walls.  There were plenty of other people around.  Attendants and hangers-on, he was certain.  Zeke chose to ignore them, as much because he didn’t care about them as because they would distract him from Talia.

Nor did he notice the décor.  Not consciously, at least, though he did catalogue it in the back of his mind.  He couldn’t help it.

Each footfall came with agonizing slowness as his vision tunneled.  No one else existed in all of reality but the woman on that throne.  She looked identical to the last time he saw her.  Beautiful in a marble-skinned kind of way.  Dark hair tinged with green.  Vivid emerald eyes.  Her fingernails were as black as the darkest shadow, and she sat with the grace of a born queen.

His throat dried, and his stomach fluttered. 

Nervousness.  Such a different sensation to what he’d felt before.  Not quite anxiety.  Not fear.  More like a combination of the two, but oddly pleasant.  Like a frightening event he still looked forward to experiencing. 

Finally, he stopped only a few feet from her.

“I –”

He never got the chance to even begin his sentence before Talia erupted into motion, and an instant later, she’d wrapped her arms around him.  Her lips found his, and in that instant, he could think of nothing else but the immediate moment.