A time before time, burning eternal.
The weight brought him to his knees, along with the realisation that this was ground like no other.
In silence and stillness he remained, taking it all in. Time seemed to have stopped. The urgency of the quest made way for this sobering moment in the presence of a higher power.
Gen felt an unexplainable warmth at his temples and in his chest, like the burning away of the old. Old hurts locked up in old haunts, old mindsets tumbling around in old vessels. It wasn’t mere singeing, or a scorching of the surface. It went deep. It was all-consuming.
At the same time it was a kindling of the heavenly deposit. A dousing of oil, fanning it strong, blazing throughout his being.
When Gen opened his eyes, he was pleasantly greeted by rays of warm light. Dawn light - it seemed the purest of its kind no matter the time of day. He tried to put a finger on the intricacies of what had just taken place. His surroundings hadn’t changed. He looked down at his hands and they were the same ones, calloused from years of crafting. He glanced to his side and found Jovin sat facing the river, deep in thought as he always was.
It’s possible that he doesn’t ever realise, but a piece of this eden was now woven into his heart.
Gen got up and walked over to Jovin. Silently, he sat down next to him. Like little boys, they watched the current as it rolled over rocks and weeds, smooth, glistening, and mesmerising.
“How do we bring the river back to the people?” Jovin asked.
Gen pondered for a bit then raised his leather flask.
Jovin stared at him, expression artless, “Will that be enough?”
“I say it’s enough for all who would believe.”
Jovin held his gaze for a few moments, then the edges of his lips curled upwards in a smile. He’d come so far to know that this was true.
Gen reached over the bank and dipped his flask into the river. He waited as it gurgled and filled the vessel, then withdrew the flask just as it began to overflow. Life; fresh from the source.
“Let’s free the MidLanders,” Gen said, then got to his feet and offered a hand to help Jovin up.
They followed the river, retracing their steps through the viridescent forest. Gen carried the river in the flask slung across his chest, feeling its life force in sync with that which flows within him.
“How do you feel?” Gen asked. It was human; to derive some sort of solidarity through what he hoped was a common, unified experience. Yet deeply he knew that his experience was individual, unique.
“At rest.” Two simple words that held a world of implication and meaning.
Like knots unravelled, the incessant tugging that had brought nothing but deeper entanglement had ceased. The chaos and striving had come to a halt. His heartstrings could finally breathe and fully heal. His weary disposition became but a reminder of what once was. One last look at the old. A battle conquered, a thirsted-for renewal on its way to completion.
“What about you?” Jovin asked.
“Sure.” One simple word encapsulating the centuries-old longing of humanity as uncertainty reigned and ruled. Before, his faith was a hope adrift, a striving that couldn’t be backed by confidence. Now, it was grounded, anchored to the mercy seat, unshakable.
They’d both found what they had been looking for.
As they descended the mountain, the darkness began to stir ever so slightly. From within the dormant cloud resting in smug victory came the first tremor.
With new life coursing through their veins, the boys reached the bottom of the mountain in no time. Now they stood before the black mass, which towered over them like an impenetrable wall.
But when Gen took one step through the gateway, the dark cloud recoiled, hissing ferociously, fearfully. It wasn’t him it was afraid of, it was what was in him. An ancient remedy to an ancient evil. The grave couldn’t contain Him. The mountain that entombed Him had become the throne of His Kingdom. To the shackles of death he was untethered, once and for all.
They continued boldly into the Galvigon city and watched the darkness retreat with each step they took, clearing the path before them and around them. It wasn’t a surrender by choice or because of fear. When opposites collide, the greater leaves the lesser without room, regardless of whether the latter wills it. Only the will of One prevails.
As the cloud dispersed, a person lying on the ground came into view. They hurried over and helped the soldier to his feet. He stared at them, wide-eyed, staggered, as if he was seeing the light of day for the first time after an eternal night. There was a mixture of hope and fear - hope in restored sight, yet a venerated fear for what, or who could rescind the sentence and turn the tides of light and darkness.
“Don’t be afraid. The waters of the Spirit will save you, if you believe.” Gen reached out with the flask.
With trembling hands, the soldier took the flask and drank from it. At once, the dark cloud withdrew from him. He fell at their feet to thank them but Gen stopped him halfway, “We too were saved by the Spirit.
What’s your name?”
“Kairus.”
“You’re a free man now, Kairus.”
They went further into the city, looking for more captives of the fell mass. Kairus followed along, sharing his light in the search.
They found and freed many more cowering soldiers scattered across the square, until it dawned on them that this wasn’t the most efficient way of going about the freeing.
“We can’t be going to them one by one. There’s only one flask but so many of them. There has to be another way,” Jovin said. Gen agreed and slowed down to consider.
He surveyed the group of saved soldiers, looking eager and brimming with new life. He looked to Kairus, fitted out in full Galvigon armour - leather and wolfskin, claw and teeth. His spear had been lost, his hands empty. But hanging on a strap by his waist was a leather flask.
A wave of inspiration came over him.
“Anyone who wants to be used as a vessel, bring a vessel!”
Kairus was the first one in line, presenting his flask to be filled. Then he was on his way to share the freedom he had received through the Spirit.
Gen filled the vessels - flasks, bottles, bowls - brought by the rest of the soldiers and instructed them to testify of how they had been saved to everyone they helped. No one questioned if the water would run out, they simply believed. Jovin found a small jug by the well and presented it to be filled too.
By now the cloud had completely cleared from the square. The stones welcomed the familiar illumination and warmth of the streaming sunlight.
There was a buzz rising from all corners of the city as people broke free from the fetters of despair. Without formal instruction, whoever was set free brought a vessel, had it filled, and paid it forward by going about and sharing it with others who were once like them.
It did not stop at the Galvigon tribe. Kairus led a group of soldiers into the slave quarters where the exiled Kelvians were, and they too received the divine experience.
It went on, individuals united in spreading newfound freedom, until Gen called Jovin over. He had found Delirus.
Delirus looked more than grateful. Seeing his people working enthusiastically to free, instead of enslave; it was a vision come true.
His mother came running, having seen the light. She cradled his face in her hands before hugging him tightly.
“Where is your father?” She asked.
They began their focused search and found Zavus not too far off, sitting on the ground in what seemed to be a meditative state.
Their combined light shone on him and he opened his eyes, though the darkness still had a hold on him.
There was nary a flicker of emotion in his eyes as he looked at his wife and son, neither shock nor relief, but when they landed on Jovin, something flared.
The jug was still in Jovin’s hand. They had a brief stare-down, until Jovin made a surprising move and offered him the waters of life.
“I forgive you.”
Zavus looked visibly pained. Face red and twisted with anger, he spat, “I don’t want your forgiveness!” He pushed the jug out of Jovin’s hand and it shattered on the ground.
He drew his spear. Delirus did as well, springing into a protective stance in front of Jovin.
But Zavus turned the spear on its end, and before anyone could react, plunged it into his own abdomen.
A high-pitched scream escaped from the lips of Delirus’ mother as Zavus fell backwards. He yanked out the spear mid-fall then collapsed to the ground with a thud. The bloodied spear rolled out of his grasp onto the pavement.
Immediately, Delirus’ mother fell to her knees beside him, shrieking and wailing.
“Pa!” Delirus visibly softened, dropped his spear, and joined his mother on the ground. “Pa…no, please…please receive the water.” With shaking hands he scrambled to gather up the broken pieces of the jug, hoping to salvage even a drop of the miracle water.
Zavus lay unmoving, eyes glazed over and staring emptily at the clear blue sky.
Delirus continued weeping and shaking him, willing him to drink of the river. By now, his mother had quietened down, resigned to an acceptance of the warlord’s decision. Placing a hand on her son’s arm, she stilled him with a firm but comforting grip.
“Your father made his choice. We’ve made ours, and we commit to it,” she said gently, taking his hands in hers. His hands - wounded by the jug fragments - were limp in her grasp, as he knelt there gasping and choking on his tears. She pulled him into an embrace, and their hearts sought healing in each other, wrapped within and without by the essence of eternity. This wound may only fully heal in the age to come, but mother and son now had that which would sustain them till then.
As they broke from their embrace, Delirus’ mother called for a few soldiers to take Zavus’ body away for the final rites. She then came to Jovin, reached out to take his hands into hers, and said a heartfelt ‘thank you’. For the mercy, the forgiveness, though they were beyond undeserving.
As the city returned to life, the house of the warlord was tempered by the death of their king. Gen and Jovin stayed for the funeral out of respect and support for Delirus and his mother.
When all had been done, and the chapter of Zavus’ reign came to an end, Delirus stepped aside to give Jovin full view of the authority seat.
“Jovin, the throne rightfully belongs to you.”
Without contemplation, Jovin placed a hand on his cousin’s shoulder and said, “You’ll lead the people in goodness better than I’ll do.”
Delirus hesitated, then smiled and nodded.
The soldiers in the room looked towards him awaiting new orders, “Your Majesty.”
“Let the Kelvians go.” That was his first order as king.
As the soldiers marched out into the slave quarters, zealous for the business of freeing, Gen and Jovin commended Delirus for breaking ground and charting a new course for the Galvigon empire, an impressive endeavour that will go down in the annals of their history.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Jovin said, suddenly remembering the empty string hanging around his neck, “The key to the mountain, it’s under a brick in the cell we were held in.”
The trio headed to the dungeon and found the key indeed, untouched and innocent. Up the carved steps they went, till they stood in front of the massive door to the Galvigon’s treasury. For twenty-six years the chamber remained hidden from the sight and greedy hands of man. But now greed had met its match in goodness springing from the grace-gift of new life. Jovin thought of his parents; how they would never have expected the key to return in such a fashion.
As they pushed open the heavy doors of the treasury, they were welcomed to a hoard of gold and precious metals. The combined wealth of the MidLands, amassed by forced conquests, was now freed for a fresh purpose.
Delirus called for his soldiers and in wagons they transported half of the trove down the mountainside. He instructed that the riches be loaded onto the ancient supply ships that were to bring the emancipated Kelvians across Tempest.
He personally oversaw the loading of the supplies and Kelvians on the eastern shore of Tempest. Gen and Jovin strolled among the men, back bent from years of hard labour yet spirits now standing tall, wishful women looking unto their home in the West, and enthusiastic children running untrammelled - the sound of shackles a fading memory. They too were waiting for their turn to board one of the ships.
“Why did you forgive Zavus?” Gen asked, as they passed a family huddled together, basking in their long-awaited liberation.
“I suppose after all that happened, we’re past putting our hope in recompense. I’ve been roaming freely across the lands for 19 years, but deep within I was caged. I realised that the freedom I was thirsting for is found in letting go. Forgiveness.
I did nothing to deserve this second chance at life. Freely I received, freely I shall give.”
Gen smiled; this was the most open and generous with his words that Jovin had been, and he was excited to discover more of the inner thoughts of his dear brother as he is willing to share.
They were the last two to board, lingering by the shore for a few moments to bid Delirus goodbye. They hugged, long and sincere, each conveying unspoken solicitude and well wishes.
Then they got on a ship with the rest of the Kelvians, each vessel with a brimming vessel, ready to bring the life-waters of the river to the rest of the lands.
In West Brook they went about in the same manner, setting whoever was willing to believe free.
A freed Oreill came running to Gen and Jovin, catching them in joyous embrace. Odeon walked up, slightly abashed but stunningly sober. He was new, free from his debilitating addiction.
“You did it! You brought back new life!” Oreill said, smile reaching to his eyes, “I have to show you something.”
Oreill excitedly led them northward and on the way there, they saw colour returning to the charred grass like fruit ripening in season. “The brook has come alive.”
The tepid waters of the brook had turned fresh, revitalising the land through which it flows.
“There is hope for our crops, and for our future.”
Leaving the people of West Brook with imbued restraint in matters of foolery yet unrestrained in praise for their changed life, Gen, Jovin, and the Kelvians headed for Baumanneur.
Passing through pastures, they searched for the shepherds of the settlement. Bleating rose up amidst the joyful ruckus of freed man; the animals were enlivened by the roar of their masters’ salvation.
Gen and Jovin walked the fields and slopes, revelling in the gentle air of jubilance. As they passed one of the pens along the familiar road, Jovin stopped and unlatched the sheep gate. Walking deeper into the field, one of the grazing sheep looked up and bounded towards him.
“Miracle,” he greeted, and stretched open his arms to embrace her. She had grown since the last time he saw her but there was no mistaking their special bond.
Atlel and Jelika then appeared from the far side of the field. Jelika was close to tears. Cupping her hands over her mouth, she ran up to them and hugged them tight. She will never not be moved by the returning of her brothers. “You came back…you came back…” she repeated, touched and beyond relieved.
Then it was time to cross Malaban. The harsh winter had subsided, which made the crossing safer and easier. Still, it was a large party. Of the 8000 exiled Kelvians, there remained slightly less than 4000 returning home. Not forgetting the numerous wagons of gold and precious metals - resources to rebuild their city.
The journey through the col spanned days, but it was certainly a heartier one than when they had come. The party of Kelvians, ebullient for their return to the bright and balmy West, peppered the journey with songs and cheer. They passed the place where the mountain had moved, and Gen felt it appropriate to carve into the rock a message for posterity: Faith can move mountains. They came upon the section of the path that had crumbled, but there was no fear, for they were confident of heaven’s will to see them home. And indeed they crossed unscathed across planks, not even a scratch, not a single piece of gold lost, and came to the meadows - their first step into the West Lands.
They freed the meadow folk and Mighty led Fredin to them.
“I think I finally understand selflessness and sacrifice. It came to me as I received the waters of the Spirit…I know that it’s not something that comes from my own strength,” Fredin said. The awakening was complete.
Onward to Gunth as they hiked through yet more expanse of meadow. Colourful alpine flowers sprouted all over the landscape. Jovin stopped and stooped down to pick some. When Gen looked at him in wonder, he replied, “For Leia. I remember you saying they’d make her happy.”
Gen couldn’t be more fascinated by the new Jovin. Wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulder, he gave it an encouraging squeeze.
Then they heard the familiar trickle of the little stream. The boys leapt over it, their hearts full, knowing that when their soles met the earth on the other side they were one step closer to home.
Into the fortified city of Gunth they went, marching as warriors with a mission to quell the darkness. Jovin found Tyrce, Teige, and their father in the Facility. Offering them the waters of the Spirit, he saw the parts of them lost to fear and malaise come into wholeness. In the uproar occurring outside, they caught sight of the liberated Kelvians - lost children of the West returned.
“The war is over.”
Relief washed over Tyrce. He looked to his brother and father and they seemed to come to an agreement. Mustering their troops, they led the way to the mountain pass. In concerted effort that went on for a few days, they removed the fallen rocks and re-opened the pass to the East Lands, a move strategic in hope.
As they returned to the red fortress, swarms of dove butterflies populated the landscape in a beautiful flurry of white. Peaceful creatures for a land returned to peace.
Crossing the stretch of forbidden land was a brand new experience. The fog had completely cleared. Sunlight streamed into the territory, casting long, warm shadows onto the short crop of grass from behind the colossal rock columns. Still, the strong tower stood towering above it all. They glimpsed the sun glowing, caught and framed by one of the windows of the uppermost storey.
Gen and Jovin smiled when they heard the familiar screech of the eagle as it soared over the plain. A guardian in the sky to those on the ground; the shadow of the Almighty.
They returned the coats, a tad torn and faded, to Will, as the hardness of Loggerstone ebbed in the presence of the Spirit. Will hugged the coats to his chest, “If only Pa could be here to see this.”
Just then, a lady walked up to Will, “Son.”
He ran into her arms. “I thought I lost everything when your father died. I was so blind. You’re not a curse, you’re a blessing, a legacy of everything your father stood for. I’m so sorry.” He wept in her arms.
They came upon the forest, formerly shrouded by shadow and death, now vivid and fresh. The ruins of Kelv lay just beyond Lusiah and the Kelvians stood holding their breaths before they made the final lap for home.
They made it through Lusiah in no time at all and dilapidated grey walls came into view. The party turned boisterous, and they loped through the eastern archway. It was a homecoming on a massive scale.
The boys hadn’t had the chance to be acquainted with Ket’s family on the journey back, but they witnessed their reunion from afar.
Ket, sitting in his wheelbarrow and looking around as frenetic crowds of his people rushed by him in search of their homes and loved ones. He remained at a standstill in the midst of the frenzy, feeling his stomach churn with anxiety and anticipation.
Spotting him from among the throng, three women and a man came running in his direction.
“Ket!” They called, coming to him in thrill and relief. It was his mother, brother, and sisters.
At last, the reward of his joyful hope had come.
“My boy,” Ket’s mother wept, and the family joined her in tears.
“Where’s Pa?” He asked, noticing that their family reunion wasn’t complete.
“You’ll find him in the sunset on the far West,” she replied gently, wiping away his tears. Ket winced for just a moment, and let that last tear roll down his cheek, before that radiant smile returned to his face.
Gen and Jovin walked up as Ket’s family stood and moved aside.
“City of life,” Gen commented with a grin, looking around at the bustle suffusing the once tomb-like structures. “I knew it was only a matter of time, “ Ket replied, then smiled as he looked from Gen to Jovin, “Heaven did deliver.”
Gen introduced Jovin and the three chatted about adventure, of songs in prison cells, and of divine encounters.
“So, are you ready to go home?” Ket asked; the sun had now crossed into the western sky.
Home was calling.
Together with Jovin, Gen left Kelv behind and headed for the Gilded Hills.
Past the terracotta walls and into the parochial village they went. The scenes of Pa, Ma, and Leia being overtaken by the darkness and the acute fear arising from that experience returned to haunt him. Jovin steadied him with a reassuring hand to his shoulder.
It didn’t take long to free the villagers, for they were a small community. When all had been done, Gen began to search for his family. As he raced down the alleys and street corners, he gathered stares from the villagers. Once a brazen scout, disruptive maverick - those were the names they called him, his people were beginning to see him in a new light. Brave scout, the trailblazer of the generation.
He found Pa, Ma, and Leia wandering about searching for him too. They stopped briefly in their tracks upon seeing each other, then reunited, pouring all their longing, apology, and relief into the embrace.
Jovin stood watching with a smile. There was nothing wistful to it, for he too had experienced the warmth of homecoming and being reunited with family. He knew where to look for them, a people of the highlands - on the foothills of the holy mountain.
“I saw it, Pa. I saw the lion, the King of all creation,” Gen said, teary-eyed.
Pa’s gaze softened, and a sort of tender longing took over the blue of his eyes.
“I’m proud of you, son.”
From being the disgrace of the family, Gen had now found his place of favour among them who finally have eyes that see and ears that hear.
Gen introduced Jovin to his family and they welcomed him as their own, thanking him for being Gen’s stalwart companion on this quest.
“Stay in Derri, with us,” they told him. Jovin smiled, but neither agreed nor declined. That nomadic way of life was a life born out of fear and caution, a life of running and hiding. There was no need for that now. Perhaps it was time he summoned courage and took that step of faith to settle down in a newfound home. As foreign as that may be to the wayfarer, no one was made to journey alone and find comfort, Gen knew that much.
As they parted to busy themselves with errands to restore their home and village, Gen caught sight of Jovin giving Leia the flowers he had picked near Meadori. He couldn’t hear their conversation but he saw a genuine blush colour both their cheeks accompanied by wholesome smiles. Grinning to himself, he had a feeling Jovin would stay.
When evening came, Gen stood by the village gate, looking not into the sunset but into the far East. A land once upon a time lost to darkness and depravity was now found in the hope of saving grace. He imagined being able to see past the mountain range to the peak of Mount Hallow where the King of all creation was enthroned in all His majesty. Everyone who believed was given His eternal deposit, the Spirit of life - a divine promise of His divine presence, till the very end of the age.
Certainly, if a darkness must once again pass, His people will be found waiting by the door, the lamp of their hearts burning eternal.
Author's note: The endddd...or is it? There's still an epilogue, and I already have an idea for a prequel about Gen's life before the quest 😊✨
Also I mentioned in the author's note of Chapter 12 that there was a ridiculous scene idea I had to work through. I initially planned for Jovin to sWALLOW the key in a crazy defiance of Zavus. Then I re-watched The Hobbit and began thinking about the measurements of the key based on the one Thorin had and whether it is swallowable lol. The final nail in the coffin for this idea was this thought: ‘NO SWALLOW KEY LATER HOW TO TAKE OUT AND USE THE RICHES FOR GOOD’