Chapter 102: Dazzled by the Winter's Snow

Chapter 102: Dazzled by the Winter's Snow

Chapter 102

Dazzled by the Winters Snow

It was different. Surreal. The way the world bent and bowed infuriated Sylas. It did nothing but stood it his path like a wall without ladders, barring him entry. And yet, for her, it not only bore ladders, but gates and doors all flung open. Wherever she walked, the snow melted on its own. It parted like the sea, creating a path for her to thread.

She didnt have to do anything--for anything. Where she walked, she encountered edible plants that somehow grew in the deadly winter. She encountered fresh corpses of deer, of rabbits, of all manner and ilk of stranger creatures Sylas had never seen before. The world loved her dearly and it wove the tale for her to never struggle.

Walking behind her was like walking behind God itself, for all wants and desires were immediately fulfilled. Miracles abound, left, right, and center, and she didn't have to do anything. She was blessed, and he was cursed. It angered him. Infuriated him. And yet it awed him.

To be loved by the world, he realized, was a beautiful thing, was a resplendent thing. It shone everlasting and it gave birth to something beyond description. All he wanted was a mere portion of it. Just a twine. Not even a whole branch. Instead, he not only had nothing but got punished. Beaten. Singed and scalded. The world tossed fire at him and tossed melodic songs at her. And they were sung by the angels themselves.

Here, cook us a lunch again, she said, pointing not only at the fresh corpse of a strange, eight-legged, wolf-like animal that Sylas had never seen before, but also a whole set of incredibly dry firewood. In the dead of winter.

Whats that? he asked.

Its a coyler, she explained. Its legs are poisonous and inedible, but its liver is~~yuuum. One of the tastiest things Ive ever eaten.

... without saying much, Sylas set down the now-full jugs of wine to the side and got on with it.

Shed promised shed escort him through the woods and into the nearest village, as she desired to help. Though he intended to only humor her for a while as to learn more about the in-world Prophet, the first day in he knew that theyd likely reach the village with no issues. In fact, he suspected that the road wasnt nearly this good in the dead of summer. Her mere presence fixed all that was broken.

Are you jealous? she asked with a smirk, her head resting against her hands while she sat and observed him.Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.com for the best novel reading experience

Very much, he replied, starting the fire by belting two stones together above the thin and dry branches.

The world is very kind to me, she said.

Thats an understatement of the century, he said. The world isnt kind to you. It worships you. I was told that all the Prophets were insane, broken men and women who were hearing horrid nightmares since they were babes, dead before they became adults, mostly due to self-harm. And yet, lo and behold.

... you didnt hear wrong, she said. I hear em too, you know?

...

I heard yours, repeatedly.

And yet, youre alive and loved, he said, beginning to skin the beast according to her explanation.

"Loved... hmm, more like compensated, I suppose?" she said, leaning back into the suddenly-blossoming tree. The dead branches were infused with life all of a sudden, leaves and fruits growing beautifully as though the entirety of spring passed in a matter of a few seconds. "We aren't all that different--no, that's unfair to you. You experience nightmares, I merely hear and sometimes see them. But I see plenty of them, too, you know?"

Wheres my compensation, then?

But you arent a Prophet? she grinned.

... was it always like this? he asked.

Hm, she nodded. Thats why my mum and dad left me in the woods when I was only four. They were terrified of the villagers finding out all the strange phenomena that happened around me.

... Im sorry.

I understand them. They did what they thought was best for the rest of the family.

... still, Sylas said, pulling out what looked like a liver from the beast. No child, he grunted, struggling a bit as it was much heavier than he expected. Should experience a loveless childhood.

I was loved. Just not by them, I suppose.

Right. No greater love than that of the entire world itself. What? Did the dead, cooked birds fall from the clear sky?

... you are bitter, she said with a chuckle.

I thought that was established, Sylas struggled with cutting through the liver, needing to use energy and the sword as the knife was too dull for it. Whered you go after?

... is there any other way to laugh?

The one where youre trying to exorcise all your demons in one go?

That sounds a whole lot like a wail and a whole lot unlike laughter.

Tell me, he looked at her suddenly. Do your Gods ever grant prayers?

...

...

You cant fix them.

... why not?

"Because to fix someone is to give that part of yourself away."

Then theres a chance?

No, she shook her head. A prayer that grand has to be selfless.

And mine isnt?!

Its fueled by guilt, she said. Regret. Pain. You cant martyr yourself into forgiveness, Sylas. Besides, you should trust them more.

Trust them more? he quizzed, stirring the stew.

Theyre not broken little toys that need you to glue them together with your guilt-ridden tears. Have faith in them.

Is there ever a selfless prayer, even? he asked.

... there are, she said gently. But neither you nor I are the kind of people that can make them.

Who can, then?

Children.

...

The unsullied, she continued, looking up. Those untouched by the reality of things. The unblemished.

Haah, Sylas sighed, taking another sip of wine. For all the whimsical magic surrounding you, you are quite the bearer of depression, no?

Oh, wow, that one stung! What do you mean?! Im the bringer of joy and laughter, arent I?

Well, you are funny-looking, I suppose.

...

Im joking.

Sure you are, bear-looking cud.

If youre gonna insult someone, you gotta be better at it.

Like you?

Well, I did cut deep. Unlike you who couldnt even scratch the funny bone.

... just shut up and keep cooking, funny man.

Aye, aye...