Chapter 626: Flux of Life

Chapter 626: Flux of Life

Garm found that walking through the ancient city of Malgeridum was rather like walking through a recently renovated library. The previously blood-ridden canals of the Low Way of the Rose had been replaced with unending clean water, and the streets and buildings that had been paved with blood had either been torn down or cleaned. The vines atop the ceiling illuminating the place had been replaced with far more reasonable magic lamps. The place couldn’t exactly be called thriving—certainly not as he remembered it in its heyday. But it had been reborn, in a sense.

And for Garm, it told tales uncountable.

He walked from place to place, letting the lives and deaths of all those who had once occupied this place wash over him in a grand tide. He experienced both the sadism and the misery it wrought. He experienced the reckless ambition of necromancers and the desperate hope for freedom in all those they captured. It was so much at once that the experiences often bled together. All of it gave Garm a wonderful bit of nostalgia. After all, he’d been both—the hopeful, and the sadistic.

Even though he knew Argrave was goading him into searching for the remnants of his old life, Garm couldn’t help but play into his hand. Would anyone not be intrigued how they were remembered, how others thought of them? Certainly not. But despite how much he searched... his name seldom appeared. He was there. But not his name.

Instead, Garm was most often referred to as Macheid’s father.

Garm was not remembered as a pioneer on the field of necromancy, an extraordinarily young prodigy, nor even a High Wizard of the Order of the Rose. He had been reduced to nothing more than set piece for his son, Macheid. Garm was a demonstration of his exceptionalism, and of the wanton cruelty that invoked respect in other members of the Order of the Rose. Điscover new chapters at novelhall.com

“The man has a wicked intelligence,” they all had thought. “He discovered how to turn his father into a necromantic being while retaining his intelligence and his ability to speak. It would be unwise to cross such a person.”

And from Garm’s view, Macheid was exceptional. He had become S-rank at nineteen. Nineteen. Not even Argrave, the bastard with the knowledge of the universe in his head, could claim that level of prodigal talent, nor his elven wife he was so proud of. He was quite literally the youngest S-rank spellcaster in the history of the Order of the Rose. He was the youngest Garm had ever heard of ever.

In the face of such exceptionalism, Garm was merely Macheid’s father, whom he hated enough to subject to an eternity of torture.

Ordinary parents might’ve been proud of their son for achieving such heights. They might thank their good stewardship for allowing the child to grow up so wonderfully. Garm only felt a pit of despair that felt as though it was taking bites out of his insides. He hadn’t wanted to be a father. It was a mistake from the very beginning. But he had grown to like a woman a little too much, and acted with less discretion than he usually did. And when the child was born, he hadn’t the heart to kill either of them.

If he had killed them... would he be here, today? The twisted irony of it was that the answer was probably ‘no.’

Garm stood in the center of the square just before the Order of the Rose’s hall. It looked to have been repurposed, turned into a mansion of some kind. People stood guard out front. He saw a plaque that read, ‘Estate of the Countess.’

“Found something?” Argrave asked. He’d been following behind in relative silence.

“It’s like a pool of it, up ahead.” Garm’s gaze swerved from window to window.

“That was the guild hall, right?” The king looked at him. “You had such wonderful attractions like the Menagerie of Morbidity, or stalker vampires. Should I be surprised it’s not exactly clean air?”

“Can I get inside?” Garm asked. “Do you know the countess well enough?”

Argrave nodded. “Yeah, it’s Melanie. I’ll talk to her.”

Garm waited in quietude. All he saw suggested that his son likely died somewhere in there, when the Order of the Rose had fallen in Malgeridum.

#####

“I don’t much see the point in living,” Garm continued. “It all comes to an end. Everything ends. Why bother if there’s an end?”

“Fuck if I know,” Argrave said in confusion. “Listen. You’re alive now, and that’s all that matters.”

“It’s all so flat.” Garm closed his eyes. “There’s no highs, and there’s no there’s lows. I wanted nothing more than a working body, and now that I have it, it’s the same thing it ever was. Why do I bother?”

“Listen.” Argrave grimaced, steeling himself for what he was to do, then slid his arms under Garm. He stood up forcefully. “I’m going to let you into a science lesson. Maybe you’ll take some solace it in it. Nothing ends, Garm. Nothing ever ends. Everything is in a constant state of flux. If you break a rock, it doesn’t cease to be—it turns into fragments, dust, sand, and scatters elsewhere.”

Argrave looked down at him. “If you burn wood, the various things comprising it don’t vanish. Some of it becomes smoke, or ash, or... whatever. It hasn’t vanished. It’s merely changed. Every bit of energy you exert came from energy you took from something else—food, water, whatever. And the energy doesn’t disappear. It becomes force, which exerts change. Life is change, you bastard. Death is change. Everything is change.”

“I don’t want to change,” Garm responded weakly.

“Change isn’t so bad.” Argrave looked around. “This place changed. I changed. Melanie changed. Durran’s changed, because of you.” He focused back on Garm. “You’re alive again, Garm. That’s a change. You have to ask yourself what kind of change you’re going to be to the world. It’ll echo infinitely, what you do. Every little detail of every little thing you do changes the whole damn world. Especially now. Don’t think in beginnings and ends. Think in infinity.”

“...put me down,” Garm said.

“I was going to teleport back—”

“Just put me down,” Garm interrupted.

Argrave complied begrudgingly, and Garm stood straight.

“Change, is it.” Garm’s voice was flat. “I’ll bring some back.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll bring back who you want me to,” Garm said. “They won’t last long. Months, maybe. But maybe they’ll change things.”

Argrave stared. “What about you?”

“I want an unchanging existence. But just because you want something doesn’t mean you’ll get it.” Garm looked up. “I don’t think I can be happy. Inflicting pain, receiving it. Doing the right thing, doing the wrong thing. Booze, women, drugs, magic... all of yesterday already feels like nothing. But I know you’re happy.” He turned over. “So, I’ll try it your way.”

Argrave opened his mouth, and Garm thought a thank you was coming. Instead, Argrave said something that hit far deeper.

“I’m sorry, Garm.”