Ism
Walking, walking. He loved the feeling of walking. The crunch of gravel under his heavy boots, the rasping of tall, grey grass against his worn trousers. Just to let the wind hiss through the stony canyons and flow deep into his lungs, tasting of dust and ancient, dry stone.
To have the weak, filtered Desolace sun prickle faintly warm on the back of his neck, a stark contrast to the cool air raising goosebumps on his arms.
He was a rather calm man now, a deep, slow-moving river compared to the crashing torrent he'd been when younger.
He remembered a time when a young Ytetra, Gonk, and he were training against E.K. and Heliterna. The clang of practice blades, the crackle of displaced air from near misses, and Gonk's booming laugh echoing off the training hall walls.
Those were the good old times. They could never quite get him, Heliterna, with his stupid, infuriating luck, every misstep turning into a perfect dodge.
And E.K.? Standing like a damn mountain, taking every hit with that unnerving stillness, knowing his body would form and shift, adapting before the next blow landed.
He scoffed, the sound sharp in the quiet landscape. "Everything would fall just right to ensure he could never be touched." He cracked a dry laugh, the sound brittle and quickly swallowed by the vastness.
"And you, E.K., were not any better. Just standing still, taking all the hits, knowing you would adapt." He parted a dense, thorny bush, the branches snapping and leaves rustling like frantic whispers as he pushed through, the scent of crushed, bitter vegetation briefly overwhelming.
He remembers the smell of the barracks, musty and thick with the hint of old sweat and polished leather, yet beneath it, something… warm?
Or was that just time catching up with his memories, painting over the grit with nostalgia's softer brush? The waters he imposes on others – freezing time, speeding it up – were now catching up to him, swirling the sediment of the past. "How the tables have turned," he murmured, the words feeling heavy on his tongue.
How they would always wake by getting minor demons screeching and launched onto their bunks. The thud of small bodies hitting the ground, the startled curses. "Good for instincts," Kek's voice, smooth and amused, seemed to echo in his mind.
And the hideous, bone-chilling walk to get to the 'breakfast chambers,' basically a glorified name for a literal hole in the rock where you choked down tasteless nutrient paste. Forced by Kek to walk past the Frost Sun containment field.
The air itself would bite, a thousand icy needles sinking deep, stealing breath, making joints creak with unnatural cold despite the paradoxical star's distant glow. Your teeth would chatter uncontrollably for hours after.
But most of all he remembers the sounds: the deep belly laughs, the friendly insults bouncing off the walls, the clatter of utensils. The genuine warmth in everyone's eyes, a palpable glow that seemed to push back the vast, cold universe outside.
Ytetra's sharp wit, cracking like a whip.
Gonk's booming voice, rumbling like distant thunder.
Heliterna's confident smirk.
Stargazer's quiet hum as he worked.
Mongo's infectious laugh.
Kima's steady, reassuring presence.
E.K.'s rare, low chuckle, like stones grinding together.
"Me," he breathed, the air leaving his lungs in a soft manner, "and all the others Entropy took away my memories of."
His face saddened, the lines around his eyes deepening; a physical ache bloomed in his chest. He couldn't even remember the faces of those he'd bled beside, whose shoulders had brushed his in the shield wall, who had meant everything.
Names lost to the current of time, leaving only hollow spaces where comrades should be.
But all changed on that fateful day.
The memory slammed into him, vivid and brutal.
His face contorted, muscles tightening into the grim mask he'd worn then. He remembers it with horrifying clarity, a searing brand on his very being, one that would only fade when his atoms finally scattered.
The rain… that impossible, driving rain, thick and warm like blood, plastering hair to foreheads, making the ground a slick, treacherous muddy one. The noise: shouts of orders, screams of the wounded, the hiss of rain hitting the Black Sun's containment field, the thunderous impacts of rogue Sparks hammering the perimeter.
Everyone running, slipping, scrambling; some to bolster the flickering containment, others desperately trying to hold back the horde seeking to exploit the chaos, to drown order in anarchy.
Then E.K. Standing there. A dark statue amidst the vortex. Closest to the unstable horror. His face hidden, as always. Always.
"A punishment for the death of his family," he'd said once, the words flat and final.
He was assessing the situation, a predator calculating angles. He reached out, a gloved hand touching the fuming, unstable edge of the Sun's energy field. A snap of power flared. And then…
He turned his head. Just slightly. Enough.
Those eyes…
Those purple eyes…
They cut through the rain, the chaos, the distance. They held no fear. No rage. Only a terrible, absolute knowing. A verdict. A sentence passed not just on the Sun, but perhaps on everything.
Heliterna saw it, the blood draining from his face.
Ytetra saw it, her lips pressing into a thin, white line.
Stargazer saw it, his knuckles white on his staff, his constant hum cutting off abruptly.
Gonk saw it, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
Mongo saw it, his usual loudness replaced by grim silence.
Kima saw it, a single, slow nod of grim understanding.
I saw it.
He was so lost in the echo of those eyes, the phantom sizzle of rain, the remembered thunder of collapsing realities, that he didn't register the ground vanishing beneath his feet. The soft scuff of his boot on loose scree at the cliff edge. The sudden, sickening feeling in his stomach as he stepped onto empty air.
He fell. The world tilting violently. A startled huff of breath escaped him, more surprise than fear. He chuckled, the sound strained and breathless against the sudden rush of wind whistling past his ears.
A hand, strong and desperate, clamped onto the shoulder strap of his armor; too late, the grip already slipping on the wet leather. Momentum pulled him down.
"Maybe I should let go." he said calmly.
"What about your children? Your wife? If you give up... maybe they will also want to give up too." The Walker's voice sharp in his mind, Ism took a deep, deep sigh, "I know."
...
They told everything that was needed. The finality in them was a physical weight.
Heliterna saw it, the blood draining from his face.
Ytetra saw it, her lips pressing into a thin, white line.
Stargazer saw it, his knuckles white on his staff, his constant hum cutting off abruptly.
Gonk saw it, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
Mongo saw it, his usual loudness replaced by grim silence.
Kima saw it, a single, slow nod of grim understanding.
I saw it.
He stopped himself an inch from the edge, boots scraping on the loose rock. The abrupt halt sent a jolt up his spine.
"Looks quite nice," he murmured, forcing a lightness he didn't feel. Below, the Lake Meminipi stretched out, a vast, dark mirror. Its surface caught the weak light, shimmering like scattered diamonds, cold and distant.
The air here was still, heavy with the scent of deep water and damp stone. The only sound was his own slightly ragged breathing and the faint, mournful sigh of wind across the lake's expanse.
Or so he thought.
A hand landed firmly on his shoulder. It wasn't a grip, more like a steadying weight, warm even through the worn leather and metal of his armor.
Ism had felt the shift in the air, the faint scuff of a boot on stone seconds before, the next moments held no threat, so he hadn't moved. He already knew where he was going, a destination etched in the timestream like a beacon.
He already knew who he was searching for; E.K. The knowledge was a cold stone in his gut, glimpsed in fractured future-shards he stubbornly refused to examine.
"Hello there, sir." A voice, slightly high, pleasing, like wind chimes made of clear crystal. Definitely the owner of the hand. A woman's voice, carrying an unexpected note of warmth in the vast, cool silence of the cliffside.
Ism turned slowly, the leather of his gear creaking softly. His gaze met not one, but three opaque eyes set in her face. They weren't just dark; they were voids filled with swirling nebula, miniature galaxies spinning lazily within their depths. Constellations bloomed and died in their obsidian fields. They felt… unsettlingly familiar.
A ghost of Stargazer's own cosmic gaze, but softer, younger.
"What is it, lady?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle in the still air. He slowly, deliberately lifted her hand from his shoulder. Her skin was cool, like polished marble under the weak sun.
"Well…"
She hesitated, the sound a soft exhalation. Her gaze darted past him, down the sheer drop.
"Could you help me get down there?"
She pointed towards the Lake Meminipi, its diamond-bright surface shimmering far below. Its presence thrummed now, a low, deep vibration Ism felt in his bones, a pure, resonant note of unfiltered Time.
His very essence resonated with it, a tuning fork struck true. He hadn't consciously noticed its call before, distracted, but now it was undeniable; a song to the master of moments.
He looked back to her, raising an eyebrow. "Why? It's not that difficult, right? Just walk down that path over there." He nodded towards the narrow, treacherous-looking track winding down the cliff face.
She sighed, a sound like dry leaves skittering. "Well, I tried that already. Several times. But I always… end up back here." She gestured helplessly at the cliff edge.
"I have a feeling The Lake manipulates Causality itself, twisting paths to prevent unwanted entities from roaming into its waters." A faint ripple of frustration crossed her starry-eyed face.
Ism shrugged, a dry rustle from his cloak. "Causality? That won't matter to me. I've been bending its rules since I learned to crawl." He opened his arms, a gesture both pragmatic and oddly vulnerable in the vast space.
"May I?"
She looked momentarily confused, her swirling eyes blinking slowly. Then, perhaps sensing the immense, quiet power coiled within him, the sheer age in his calm gaze, she stepped forward without another word.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against the cold metal and worn leather of his chest plate. She felt surprisingly slight, almost fragile. "Here we go," he murmured, his voice a low rumble near her ear.
He stepped off the edge.
A sharp, muffled scream escaped her, instantly smothered as her face pressed hard against his armor. They fell. The wind roared past them, cold and insistent, whipping at their clothes and hair. But beneath the rush of air was another sensation; a profound, spatial wrongness.
It felt like falling through thick, viscous honey made of conflicting possibilities. The Lake's power surged around them, a palpable force trying to enforce its altered cause-and-effect: They should be back on the cliff.
Ism gritted his teeth, a low hum building in his chest as his own temporal mastery asserted itself. Reality shuddered around them, resisting his will like an elastic band stretched to breaking. He pushed harder, a mental shove that felt like moving mountains.
He landed solidly on both feet on the rocky shore, the impact jarring up his legs but absorbed easily. She remained glued to him, trembling slightly, her breathing fast and shallow against his chest.
The sudden stillness felt profound after the chaotic descent. The proximity, the instinctive clutch… it reminded him painfully of his daughter clinging after a nightmare. A deep, weary sigh escaped him, carrying the weight of millennia. He slowly, gently pried her arms from around him, setting her back on unsteady feet.
She pulled away, stumbling a half-step before catching her balance. She opened her eyes, those swirling constellations wide with residual fear that quickly melted into profound relief. A shaky breath escaped her, followed by a bright, genuine smile.
"Thank you!" she gasped, clapping her hands together repeatedly. The sharp clap-clap-clap echoed strangely across the silent lake.
They started walking towards the water's edge at the same time, drawn by its shimmering, silent call. The air here was thick with the scent of ozone and something ancient, like deep, still water undisturbed for eons. The low pressure of pure Time was a constant pressure against the skin.
"Why did you need to come here in the first place?" Ism asked, his gaze fixed on the hypnotic play of light on the water's surface.
"Well," she said, her voice hushed with reverence, "this lake… it allows one to change the past. Truly change it. However they like." Both their eyes remained locked on the mesmerizing, shifting light of the lake; his sharp and assessing, hers filled with a desperate kind of hope.
Ism chuckled, a low, dry sound. "But I can do that too, to a degree. Manipulate timelines, create branches. What's so special about this puddle?" He gestured vaguely at the vast, shimmering expanse.
"Well," she countered, turning to face him fully, her starry eyes earnest, "this isn't just a time source. It's a true wellspring, a direct manifestation of Hourglass Lake, you kno—"
"Yeah, yeah," Ism interrupted, though his tone held no malice, just weary familiarity. "The absolute source. The place from which all cause and effect ultimately flows. Every tick and tock born there." He dipped a finger towards the water, stopping just short of touching it. The air crackled faintly.
"Exactly," she nodded vigorously. "But this lake… it doesn't just allow changes. It makes it so that there are no paradoxes. No ripping apart the fabric of reality. The change… integrates. Seamlessly. As if it always was." Her voice held a note of awe.
Ism nodded slowly, absorbing this. "I see." The implications were staggering.
He finally tore his gaze from the lake and looked up at her, really looked at her face, the shape of her jaw, the impossible eyes, her nose, even her ears.
The familiarity that had nagged at him crystallized with sudden, shocking clarity. The constellation eyes… the tone of her voice, echoing an old friend's… "His lost daughter..." The realization hit him like a physical blow, stealing his breath for a second.
She had stepped into the shallows, the dark water lapping gently around her boots, sending tiny ripples across the luminous surface.
Ism walked up to the water's edge beside her, the smooth pebbles shifting under his boots. His voice, when he spoke, was softer than before, laced with a dawning wonder. "Are you… Stargazer's daughter?"
Her reaction was instantaneous. Her swirling eyes snapped to his, widening impossibly, the nebulae within flaring with sudden, brilliant light. A gasp escaped her, sharp and full of disbelief. "You know him?!" Hope, raw and desperate, flooded her features.
He nods, a slow, deep movement. And then he laughs. It starts as a low rumble in his chest, building until it bursts forth; deep, rich, and full of a joy he hadn't felt in centuries.
It echoes across the silent lake, a sound utterly alien and yet profoundly right in that place of ancient time.
"Of course I know him!"
he manages between breaths, the laughter subsiding into warm chuckles. "We were as close as brothers forged in the same star! Closer!" He gestured towards the shore, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth, the lines of worry momentarily erased.
"Step out of the water, child. Come. Let me tell you who I am, and about the father you seek."