Private Without Hope

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Age of Mythology: Chapter 1
c. 11,000 BBY
​

The sky had risen a burnished copper, the sun known as Baal young and vibrant and powerful enough to allow no signs of darkness to exist during the morning hours. Waves of red-gold washed over the emerald green landscape, bathing what settlements there were at that age in its light as the denizens of this world awoke and began their days. Lumde Suar, a young and fast-rising priestess in her village, was the first to awaken in her home, rushing down the old wooden stairs as swiftly as she could. Her excitement was palpable, barely contained, for it was going to be a good day, a great day even. For her at the very least, and not for the others in the village. She understood this and understood why, for today was the day that she would summon the Destroyer and go about her life's plan. She would be the one to-

"Lumde!" her mother suddenly cried out as her daughter began heating up the stove-fire for slabs of fresh Goldhorn. "Why are you always so loud in the morning?"

The young priestess chuckled and tossed the thick red meat onto the pan resting over the increasingly large orange flames, "Oh please, I wasn't that loud." Spices and cooking wine were added as well as the meat seared and crackled against the heat.

Her mother marched into the kitchen, hands on her hips and a sour expression on her wrinkled face, "The stairs are old and you could get hurt. Your father has to replace them, so no more running. Okay?...Okay?"

Lumde grunted and added more spices to the smoking pan, her eyes fixated on the browning Goldhorn, "Yes, yes, okay, mother."

"Good. I need you to pick up more Goldhorn today," her mother ordered, taking a seat at the dining room table with a heavy sigh. "We're almost out and I don't want your father to whine and complain about his lack of steak."

Lumde did not respond to the order and silently stabbed the meat in the pan with her stainless steel fork to transfer to her smooth wooden plate. The plate was set onto the table with a slight clunk, but the food upon it went uneaten for a good half-hour before being carved and pierced by its cooker's utensils. Goldhorn meat was naturally salty and tough, although the copious wine and spices had given it a sweeter taste and chewier texture for breakfast.

As she chewed each slice and chunk, Lumde thought on both the plethora of dishes that used Goldhorn (stews, salads, soups, chowders, dinners, breakfasts, desserts) and the journey she had to set off on within the hour. Finding the Destroyer...I must be mad. Without a word, Lumde finished her breakfast, an endeavor in of itself, waited for her mother to return upstairs to wake her father, and then quickly retrieved her packed traveling bag and rushed out the house with sonic speed, her destination set in the far west, in the woods that had been cordoned off for decades, in the home of the Destroyer.

I must be mad.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Age of Mythology: Chapter 2
c. 11,000 BBY​

The forest where he had been forced to make his home was enormous and verdant, bright with a sense of non-sentient confidence, a distinct contrast to the nature of its main denizen. While he was an enormous man, or rather creature, in physicality by no stretch of the imagination, he had no confidence, he was not bright, he was not verdant, and he was not beloved like the forest itself.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a brutish and violent thing who lived only to destroy those he hated and those who hated him. As it was, those that hated him never came to his home to hunt him down due to their overwhelming fear of death in ways they could not imagine. Heads ripped off with the spine still attached, organs pulverized to soup, bones snapped into impossible positions. The thoughts were pervasive in the minds of those who hated him.

The Destroyer. The Devil Scourge. A thousand and one names for the thing in the forest, the thing who single-handedly killed five other Gods in a week-long duel before retreating into the shrouded woods, never to be seen again for decades. At night, his howls of rage and sorrow ensured that the people would never forget that he still lived and that he would never die. Not to age. Not to disease. Not to hunger. Not to battle. He would not die. And they feared and hated him for it.

So imagine his surprise, shock, fury, and fear when a woman, barely out of her young twenties, if that, came into his home on her own volition and actively searched for him. His eyes, which were little more than orbs of black sclera and gold irises-pupils, watched as the woman wandered and called for him, shouting and looking for any sight of movement that he could make. His veins would go cold with each calling of his name, not because the name she called was one of the ones they have given him. Not the Destroyer or the Devil Scourge. She called him by his real name. Dayair Laiul. It was a name he had not heard in decades. The name locked away in their bastard books of ink and leather taken from beasts now extinct from wild hunts. Well, extinct except for...one.

His hands tightened around the stem of his hammer which had burned a slight dent in the rocks he stood upon. How she had not seen the smoke of burning stone was beyond him, although it was likely due to the thickness of the area he had chosen to hide in. He continued to follow her for hours, watching her not grow tired or restless or even hungry. If anything, she appeared to grow in determination, much to his surprise.

Why is she looking for me? he asked himself incredulously. She must have a death wish.

Naturally, he would be forced to kill her in the end as he was a brutish and violent thing. And so, he stalked her as she moved on, watching her move like silk in water through the forest unafraid, unabashed, confident in whatever madness had sent her here. In a way, he respected her for it. None had entered his home so willingly without fear. It would not matter after it was all said and done, of course. She would simply be tossed away into the graves he had dug throughout the forest and be forgotten within the week, rotting under the dirt in a dozen pieces.

Before long, the woman came upon a clearing, still calling his name, her back turned to him, unaware of his presence, unaware of her impending death. A smile crossed his reptilian lips, his heart pounding with the thrill of the hunt. This was it. His kill. His slaying of another fool who had braved his forest. He charged forward like the wind in a storm, swift and harsh, and lifted his burning hammer high when he was mere inches from the woman. She was to die. She was to be slain.

And then she turned and faced him, meeting his gaze head-on. That look in her eyes. Fearless. She is fearless? Brave? No. She...how? He stopped the hammer's fall centimeters away from the top of her horned head, not even the embers of its scorching head touching her scalp. No one, not one solitary person, had ever faced his hammer bearing down upon them and not screamed, not pleaded, not yelled or cursed or swore or fell into frightening insanity. She was so utterly unfrightened in that moment that he had to stop his attack and just stare, eyes wide with confusion as she simply waved almost happily and smiled.

"You must be who I have been looking for!" she pipped and clapped as he backed away, head cocked and mouth slightly agape. "Oh, how fantastic. I have been looking for you for hours, you know. I must admit, I thought you were about to kill me, but...well I am still alive so...you must not want to kill me. Where should we begin? Oh! My name is Lumde Suar. I am a priestess from the village just outside of this forest, but you probably know that already."

"What?" he asked plainly. What is this? This is new. I do not like this. I hate this. Hate it. Go home. Retreat. She can kill you. You dropped your guard. Run. Run. Run.

How humorous it must have been to the woman that this creature of violence, The Destroyer, had been shocked into not only silence but passiveness, staring blank-eyed at her excitement. Perhaps it was that humor he began to dread that lead him to swiftly turn on his heels and rush into the forest at such speed it was almost an imperceivable action. Once more, and with a heavy sigh, the woman set off to find him, calling his name.

She would return home empty-handed by the day's end, unaware that he had been watching her from the treetops with fearful eyes the entire time.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Age of Mythology: Chapter 3
c. 11,000 BBY​

Fifty years ago had been so simple.

He fought.

People died.

The day's orange rays had died down to the horizon, only the distant trees and mountains properly illuminated by their light. Dayair was standing in the middle of some smoking, ruined village that he had placed under siege for hours, scaly mitts gripping the stem of his hammer which singed with the blood of his victims. Before him stood five warriors, three men and two women, who had arrived to deal with the greatest threat the world had ever faced. They were each armed with wooden swords and gleaming silver shields and clad in thick platinum armor shined and polished to mirror perfection. Heroes, the lot of them. Gods to the world, fools to Dayair.

His gaze was iron-hard, focused on the man in the middle whose leather gloves were nearly tearing from the strain of their owner's clenched fists. Blonde, chiseled, confident, and full of Godly wrath, he was a perfect candidate to become the new High Deity when the old one vacated the position by way of death or age.

"You know you cannot win here, Destroyer," the man proclaimed, twirling his sword fancily. "We are beyond you now. We have grown stronger on the worship of these fine people while you have grown weak from their hate. Do you not-"

"You people really like talking," Dayair interrupted with a flick of something meaty he clawed from between his front teeth. "Stop that."

The man's expression turned sour at the words. He quickly motioned for the two on his left to charge Dayair, stating that they needed to "get it done quickly." They had smiled proud smiles before they sprinted towards the giant, shields raised to defend and swords poised to strike and slash at his thick hide in hopes to slay the beast once and for all. They swung their blades hard and fast, both aimed for separate parts of his body, forcing the Destroyer to back away with rapidity and a sickening laugh.

His responsive attack was admittedly slower but hit much harder, splintering the shield of the woman on his right and sending her to the ground with a heave and a wheeze. She would attempt to stand and continue to fight against the beast, but would instead find the head of the hammer brutally embedded in her cranium, charred bone shards and brain matter spewing across the ash below their feet.

Her compatriot yelled with sorrow and anger and struck Dayair's back with as much force as he could muster. The blade past through his hide with ease, but was not enough to kill the beast. If anything, it was invigorating and only resulted in the Destroyer gripping the man by his neck and slowly crushing his throat until the audible crack and pop of his larynx and spine signified his painful death. A cough of blood and a roll of his eyes and a drop to the ash below and a second God had been killed.

"Stronger?" the beast asked with a slithering lick of his lips, much to the fury of the man in the middle who quickly sent the last two to the fight, although they were visibly less enthusiastic about it.

The fight between these three lasted longer, perhaps two days and spanning across a much larger area, spilling into the mountains and the forests near the village. Only when the man was finally struck hard in the face by the head of the hammer and the woman was flung into the sharp rocks by the Destroyer's telekinesis did that fight end. The last God attacked immediately, shucking his blade through the ribs of the Destroyer who screamed in pain and pushed the man back on reflex. After pulling the sword from his ribs, the beast tossed both weapons aside and engaged the man in a fist-fight, a fight of powers and endurance.

After five days of non-stop, barbaric, merciless combat, the man was slain after his head was forcibly ripped from his body. And then Dayair awoke in the forest, confused and lost and being licked by a giant beast of rock, hide, and internal flame. Through eavesdropping and interrogation of those who wandered into his new home, the people had come to believe that Dayair had fled into the forest to escape the wrath of the other Gods, never to be seen again, to always be forgotten and ignored. This is how it was until the woman came into his domicile some fifty years later.

"Fifty years ago had been so simple," he muttered to himself as he watched the woman wander around his forest for the third time that week, persistent as ever.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Age of Mythology: Chapter 4
c. 11,000 BBY​

When he had approached her some days prior to their next encounter, he had appeared not quite as she imagined. Not in the sense of physicality, for that was no doubt exactly as the texts described him: a demon lizard, nearly seven feet in height to her five-foot-two, muscular and beastly yet quick and agile, wielding a burning hammer of dark iron and black steel powered by Hell itself. Dayair Laiul. The Devil Serpent, although some texts translate it as "The Devil Scourge."

He indeed looked like a Devil, but he most certainly did not act like one. In fact, to Lumde, he appeared shocked over something, or perhaps even scared. Of course, he had run off back into his trees before she could ask him any questions as to why, so that was pure conjecture. Regardless, he was initially not what she had imagined and was resolved to find out the truth behind the beast of legend. That had been her goal since childhood when she first read of the most unredeemable thing. She would redeem him. She had to.

"Dayair Laiul! I only wish to talk!" she repeated for the umpteenth time, scanning the treelines for any sign of the thing. She knew he was here as she could occasionally feel his fiery gaze upon her. "I want to know why you have not killed me. Every text says you are a beast who knows only death, yet you let me live. Why?"

She asked this for hours, pushing through the bushes and brambles and the endless foliage, and no sign of her goal had been made aware to her. The sun began to set, the light dying beyond the horizon as it always does, and the small creatures of the night began to emerge, chirping and chattering and crawling all around her. They were adorable things with glowing eyes and growths that looked like leaves and sticks. Some croaked, some hooted, others wailed, but they were all alive and giving the priestess company that she had been longing for all day. It was just the wrong type of company.

And then the right type of company, the company she had been searching for, appeared before her. She had moved a thick set of branches and leaves out of her path and there he stood. The absence of light made his full form imperceivable to her eyes save for the burning hammer in his hands, the eyes of flame deep-set on his face, and the red glow of his veins that pressed against his taut, defined skin. He was disembodied in that moment, nothing more than a creature of darkness and fire. Perhaps this is what everyone else sees when they look at you.

"Stop talking," he said simply before turning to leave. His voice was like mountains scraping against each other during a thunderstorm and it drove surprised shivers down the priestess's spine.

"Wait!" she called out as his light began to dissipate in the darkness, somehow feeling excitement at the chance to actually talk with the legend. "You know I will just return tomorrow so please answer one question at least before then. Why am I still alive?"

The beast stopped, but did not turn, "You are going to question that? Truly? You damned people really are something else."

The woman began to approach him with haste, a smile crossing her face, "Every text has sworn that you leave none alive. That you kill everything before you. Yet, I still live and you-big branch-you have never attacked the village just outside your home. You only wait for people to come into your home. Why?"

The thing scoffed and finally turned just as she was only a few feet from him, "Intruders deserve to die. But you...well there is no point in wasting my energy. Your people will eventually discover what you are doing and you will be placed under lock and key. Now leave me alone."

She smiled wider at his response and put her hands on her hips as he tried to leave once more, "Is it because you are not as evil as everyone believes?"

"Girl," he practically growled. "I have sundered your people for longer than you have been alive, longer than I can remember. Do not come to me to state such nonsensical concepts. I am evil incarnate. I always have been, always will be. Now leave me be and go!"

The final demand shook the heavens themselves amidst a torrential burst of red flames from the within the Destroyer that set fire to the surrounding area, illuminating the beast in his full, demonic glory. The ground shook with his furious steps, the sky burning as the flames began to reach higher and higher into the sky. In that single moment, he was untouchable. He truly is a God, Lumde thought to herself whilst gazing upon him as he walked away.

It only occurred to her after she had fled the forest back into her village that for the first time in her young life, she had felt fear. Not because she was afraid of any impending death, but because the power shown before her in that one instant was beyond what any of the other Gods had ever displayed capability of possessing. Naturally, that fear turned into palpable joy and newfound resolve. This would quickly shift into discomfort when she walked into her home, her garments dirtied and torn from the journey, and was forced to face the concern and anger of her parents.

"Where have you been?" her father asked.