Chapter 184: Prophets Made of Sand

Chapter 184: Prophets Made of Sand

Chapter 184

Prophets Made of Sand

Strange silence befell the two, with varying degrees of confusion shared between them. If Asha wasnt part of the Queens plan, Sylas realized, then she was just a cosmic coincidence. No, he inwardly shook. Universe isnt that kind.

You sure? he asked again.

Fairly certain, she replied. I am as surprised as you are, to be honest. Prophets... are rare things. In fact... scholars have started considering them either a myth or at least extinct.

How so? Sylas probed further, frowning.

While there are occasional reports of Prophets, the Queen replied. They are never truly confirmed. And though the stories speak of men and women who could whisper the Gods wants, there are also stories of men whose lips could spit fire. Does not make either of those stories true.

I have seen her do things, Sylas said, frowning still. Melt snow. Appear food and drinks from nowhere. Have visions... visions of my life.

... the Queens eyes momentarily lit up, though she merely smiled. I was mistaken. Yes, I do recall a Prophet.

Haaah, Sylas sighed. This entire world is hellbent on fucking me till Im spitting its cum.nove(l)bi(n.)com

Heroes face walls, Sylas, she said. Tall and seemingly unbreakable walls. When the rest of the world sees that wall, we falter, crumble, and shrink. What makes heroes who they are is that there is no wall tall or impregnable enough to make them cower. Most, admittedly, do not bend their head into the wall for lifetimes on end, but... lesser men than you would have failed even at that.

... both you and that step-son of yours far overestimate me, Sylas shrugged. I have failed. The fuck do you think it took me lifetimes? Given enough time, there aint a man or a woman alive who wouldnt become a hero. Especially when theres no other choice. Though, admittedly, calling me a hero is as perverse as calling yourself a footnote.

... my late Mother had a saying, the Queen said, smiling charmingly. A mans a bucket of dreams, and us women are plugs keeping them afoot. Admittedly, she was a woman who liked wine and sanctity of a walled mansion, never having to fight for anything she believed in. As both you and I know, we all have dreams. And we all need anchors. You claim anyone could have become what you are given enough time... but you are wrong.

I very seriously, highly doubt that.

...

Unless... noticing the strange look in her eyes, Sylas mind came up with a horrific idea. This... isnt the first time?

It is, she replied. For us.

... for you?

But not for the world. There are very, very, very few heroes, Sylas. No matter how far back in time you go. No, perhaps calling you heroes is perverse, as you put it. The world is blighted by the way children view heroes--pure, incorruptible, ever-shining, bastions of morality and goodness. There never was nor will there ever be a man or a woman who can live up to the ideal of a childs hero. But men and women like you... they come close.

...

Do you want to know truly why you were the one? she asked suddenly.

Why... I was? Sylas frowned. I... I thought it was... random.

Because we knew you would not run, she said. No matter what happened, you would have stayed.

And? Whatd she say?!

... nothing of import, he said. Though she did let it slip that, apparently, I was chosen--specifically.

... and that bothers you?

Just makes no sense, Sylas sighed.

As a completely objective and in no way compromised observer, she smiled as she walked up and hugged him from behind. I disagree. It makes perfect sense.

Oh? I was perfect for selective, temporal torture that lasts for seemingly all eternity?

... no, she spoke gently. But... if I needed to pick someone to save a Kingdom... yeah. I could see myself picking you.

Looks like the years with me have really brainwashed you, he chuckled, bending over slightly and picking up the gourd of water.

Im just saying, she rolled over and sat on one of the tree trunks. You need a hero? You summon Sylas.

You really think Im a hero? he asked, smiling still. Man, youre worse off than I thought.

Maybe, she smiled back. Love has a funny way of mystifying the world. You sure look the part, though. What with muscles upon muscles and a beard months unshaven.

Yes, but wheres my glistening, gilded armor? The sword that shines and shit? A white mane that can, for some reason, fly without wings? And wheres my parade of maidens cheerin my name? Eh?

... you asked about me, havent you? she suddenly asked, causing his upper lip to stiffen.

...

Its noble, choosing to have faith in me. Or stupid. One of those.

I thought it a nice, romantic gesture, he sighed helplessly.

... I love you, Sylas, she said. And from the bottom of my heart, I hope thats enough for you... for now.

For now? he repeated, walking over, crouching down and grabbing her hand. Forever.

... now, that is a romantic gesture.

It is, isnt it? I do have my moments.

You have them plenty, the two laughed for a moment. I promise you--it will all make sense, one day. And on that day... you can choose whether to love me or hate me.

... if seemingly the entire world can, for some reason, put their faith in me of all people, he said. I can put some of mine in a girl who stuck with me through everything. Well, not everything. You did find me when I was... drifting, though.

... come on, she pulled him up to his feet. Theyre having the last supper in the castle. How many of those will we get to experience?

If any of my previous experiences are to go by? he replied, letting himself be dragged. Thousands, probably.