Silas woke up to an azure blue sky, partly eclipsed by the canopy of a lush tree. Cool breeze gently played with his hairs which he lightly brushed away. He stretched his sleepy limbs, feeling nicely rested. His thoughts were finally calm and lucid, almost… numb? 

Silas reached out his hand, pulling at a tuft of grass, trying to remember where exactly he was. He was in those ruins earlier, watching the Weavers fighting with Lennox. He had run to him, trying to get him away from them. 

Had he failed? Left him behind?

Panic clawed at his throat, his stomach lurching at the thought of Lennox coming to any harm. He was aware that he should not feel that way. Lennox hailed from the enemy land, Archon of a house that had sworn an oath to the throne to end their kind. To end Silas. But he hadn’t. 

He might have after the battle, though. Silas thought.

The conflict was still raging inside him when someone cleared his throat. Silas jerked his hand away, tossing around his head to find the voice. The source was sitting right beside him.

Those green eyes. And his very own face.

‘What?!!’ Silas yelped, jumping to his feet. 

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. That was his own face, his own hair and eyes, just not the same color. Such eerie resemblance completely threw him off. So he had a twin he didn't know about? 

‘Who are you? And Where am I?’ Silas asked his own image.

The other boy let out a soft sigh, then reached for Silas’s arm, giving it a quiet tug. An unspoken invitation.

Silas hesitated—just for a moment—then sat beside him, the resistance still flickering faintly in his posture.

‘I wish I could tell you that.’ He said, giving Silas a sad smile.

‘I don’t know who I am or what I am. I don’t even remember how I look, so..’ He glanced at himself, ‘I had to take up yours. As to where we are, we seem to be in a dimension that is a reflection of your own consciousness. I hope that helps.’ 

The reply was so well curated as if he knew what Silas exactly wanted to know.

He offered Silas a sheepish smile, a little amused at the latter's bewildered expressions.

Silas looked around at the infinitely stretched meadows with clear streams running through them. No man or animal in sight. More so, he felt strangely calm and safe in this mysterious place that he clearly had never been to. The beauty of it, itself, seemed unreal. 

So this is what his consciousness looks like? Meadows that could serve as a perfect ranch? He was screwed.

‘You asked the same question last time you were here. We talked a bit. Your presence, however, was so fleeting and ephemeral, I hardly believed your conscious mind would remember it any more than a dream.’ 

The boy added, in a voice so beautiful, that he might have sung those words.

Silas stared mesmerised at his own face. Then he nodded.

‘I don’t remember meeting you at all.’ 

And Silas didn’t. He could swear on that. It is not everyday that you meet someone bearing your own face telling you that they were lounging inside a dimension that reflects your own head. Not a chance.

‘I could believe that. You first came here last night, after you went to sleep. You were really worried about what Leopold had said about Lennox and what he had lost. We talked almost the whole night or what was left of it anyways. Then- ’ He added with a pause, ‘came Lennox knocking on your door and you left. After that, every time I tried talking to you, you just … grabbed your head.’ 

Silas remembered waking up that morning with a heavy head. He could swear he hadn’t slept a wink but then he had no other recollection of the night either. 

‘I don’t remember anything from last night. All I know is that I woke up this morning with a terrible headache and have been grappling with it since. I heard nothing.’

‘Seems so because I tried to tell you about the opening doors beforehand but you did not seem to hear it. I was telling you not to run into the flames, but you just would not listen. Now you are out there dying.’ 

He spoke, sadness clouding his gaze — and just like that Silas’s world turned upside down.

‘What?!’ He wheezed ‘Why am I dying?’

The boy’s persona of a wise and emphatic soul slipped for a moment. He stared at Silas as if he was just stupid. 

Silas realized he was. 

He ran into the flames, assuming them to be what? Some expensive decorations to add to Lennox’s looks. Of Course they would burn him. He was just not thinking on his feet. Erie had always warned him that books would not take him far. He needed to leave the farm. Now, he has failed to develop even basic common sense.

‘Is this the afterlife now?’ Silas thought out loud. With a little hesitation, he added. ‘Are you the God of Death?’

The boy scrunched up his nose, clearly disgusted at the insinuation. Then, he snorted.

No, he did not. Some one else did.

Silas head jerked around, nothing but endless meadows. He could see none.

And then the kind smile returned to the boy’s face. It made Silas’s heart melt. The boy was all him, yet nothing like him.

‘Call me Ruhan’ He said, amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘That’s what we agreed to last night. And here is what you are looking for.’

He moved the scarf aside on his legs, revealing a tiny blue dragon, lounging peacefully in his lap.

Silas’s eyes went wide.

‘Mercy!’ he gasped, scrambling back. “What in all the burning realms is a God of Fury doing curled up in your lap? Who even are you?’

Ruhan just laughed, a rich carefree chortle that achingly reminded him of Erie. He petted the tiny form of Zenos with surprising gentleness, that didn’t quite match the teasing tone, his eyes drifting far away, lost in some quiet place only he could see.

'What ‘God of Fury’?' he said softly. 'He’s just a small kid who lost his way home.'

He paused, his hand stilling on Zenos’s head.

'And no one came for him.'

The last words came quieter, his voice catching—thick with grief, and something that sounded far too much like guilt.

Silas’s tongue burned with a thousand questions, but Ruhan spoke up again. 

‘We discussed a few things the night before. The spell that you siphoned from the key was no ordinary one. That spell seems to originate from some forbidden ritual, too ancient for your kind’s comprehension. It was woven using threads of a living soul and when you became the key, you gave that soul access to your consciousness.’

‘How do you know that and not know yourself?’ Silas wondered out loud. 

Ruhan stared at him again, yet somehow his gaze still drifted past — as if Silas were both there and not.

‘There are some things I intuitively know and others I am completely blind too. Tell me what you know about the key that ferries you across dimensions. Are there others? We couldn’t discuss it anymore since Lennox woke you up.’

Silas gave it a thought. 

‘I don’t know a lot about these keys, except that they were made from the Cord which has a very long history in Nimit.’ Silas continued when Ruhan nodded.

‘A war broke out between Raians and Nimahs, many centuries ago - both the sons of same soil. Reason was lost to time but the enmity hooked deep into our souls. For years, Raians hunted Nimahs and since they were greater in numbers, the latter were forced into hiding. But Nimahs had formidable spells and though Raians were no less in power, their magic was honed differently. Moreover, Nimahs were sitting over a treasure coven of forbidden spells and powerful artifacts. Equally matched, the war dragged on for years. Coexistence became impossible and it became apparent that for peace to prevail, one of the communities had to be annihilated in the war.’ 

‘This is around the time Nimahs realized something. They were no longer the sons of Raia. They had become nomads on their own land. Their histories were lost, their ancestors had no place to rest. They were scattered everywhere yet belonged nowhere. The treasure coven they sat on had become mere decoration because the ones who knew how to initiate them had been lost to the ravages of war. That’s when they found them.’

‘Cords.’ Ruhan muttered, his eyes still lost in the past. He seemed to be living the words of Silas, the horror apparent on his face. ‘They should have been found long ago.’

Silas nodded. ‘They were found too late indeed. A boy of ‘dubious’ origin had entered the temple with others of his age. In a jest, he stole a ring from the temple and ran away with his litter. When the next day the Village Elder came to know, he found every one of those little rats except for the one. The boy wasn’t found for three whole days and when he was, he was scared out of his wits. He said he wanted to run and hide and the ring took him to such a place.’ 

‘That boy later became one of the Elders - only one among the Nimah who could use the Cord. He created Nimit, where Nimahs lived and thrived while they were labelled ‘extinct’ in Raia. Peace finally prevailed.’ He finished with a shrug.

‘Who wielded the Cord after the Elder died?’

‘No one for a long long time. Elder himself created the keys using the Cord, before he died, allowing Nimahs to travel for things they might need from Raia or meet the ones they had left behind. But keys were few and as time moved on, Nimahs soon outgrew Nimit. Eventually, some of those who dared, even moved back to Raia. At different points in time, we had some Cord wielders who expanded Nimit time and again but never up to the mark we needed.’

‘Are there any other communities that are being hunted as well?’

Silas grimly nodded, recalling the number of orphans that ran amok in the streets of Nimit.

‘Depending upon the type of magic they practice, there are many. They are more or less, descendants of ours. Nimah are no longer a pure race. Forced in hiding, they often had to mix in with other communities to save their own hide. Moreover, Nimah are not so much concerned about their blood, as are they about their ways. So any of those hunted beings willing to be a part of us, are invited with open arms. At present, Shefaal - our leader and the Elder’s council systematically clear their names and grant them asylum.’

‘So Nimit has space for them?’ 

Silas laughed. He was paying attention.

‘Nimit has more than enough space now and probably for centuries, we wouldn’t have to worry about it. Lady Luck sure has a soft spot for Nimit.’

‘What changed?’ Ruhan asked, his voice edged with curiosity.

‘Few years ago, our leader Shefaal chanced upon a few orphans, living in the underbelly of Kurseona - our capital. Before we knew it, we had four Gods among us, each more mysterious than the other.’

Silas recalled the thunder, the sky ripping open during the battle and added. ‘He wields the Cord like he made it.’

Ruhan seemed to have caught on to Silas’s thoughts. He hummed, ‘You were wise to have driven Lennox away. It is not prudent to fight an opponent as mysterious as those.’

Stating that, Ruhan slipped back into a brooding silence and after a few brief moments, hummed again.

‘So that explains it a little,’ Ruhan mused. ‘When he harnesses the power of the Cord to create so many keys, a part of the Cord’s consciousness must slip into them. You invited it onto yourself — a conscious, living being — and so I manifested.’ 

‘But incomplete.’ Ruhan added, after a pause.

Silas turned the idea over in his mind for a moment, then nodded. It was a coherent theory.

‘I don't want to go back to dwelling on some random talisman,’ Ruhan said suddenly, glancing up at Silas with a quiet intensity. ‘I'll hold it out with you.’

Then, without waiting for a response, he smiled — a soft, almost mischievous thing — and bent his head to pet the tiny form of Zenos once more.

Zenos!

Silas was yet to wrap his head around the presence of a God. Or maybe Gods.

Ruhan carried his face, was even dressed in the rags but he glowed like he had been carved in gold. Not to ignore the fact that he was cradling a God of Fury on his lap. Calling him an ‘Angry Kid’. 

He was somehow still not freaked out, taking it all in stride. It must be this place. They could tell him here that he was to die the next moment and he would still be gazing, dazed, into the meadows.

Wait, he was going to die. 

‘Oh Lord! Am I dead already?’ He cried.

Ruhan snorted. ‘No!’

‘You’re taking the matter of my death awfully lightly,’ Silas said, a wry edge to his voice.

‘You were dying. Not anymore. Zenos took care of it, with some help of course. Let him rest, now.’ Ruhan’s every word sounded like a kind caress.  

He was saved. Saved by him.

Picking at his sleeves, Silas asked ‘Why would he save me, Ruhan?’

‘You have never done him any harm, Silas. Why shouldn't he?’ 

‘Does that matter to Lennox? Aren’t he and his God the infamous monsters of our fairy tales? A God - who curses their own followers and an Archon - so despised by his Creator that he was condemned to madness and a cruel death at their hands. Death and destruction follows in the wake of their rage and hatred. Even their element is fire that only knows how to destroy.’

Ruhan stared appalled at Silas’s words. His lips were stretched thin in a grim line, as if he was about to reprimand Silas for his blasphemous utterance. And he did.

‘Do not believe everything you hear Silas. Remember that true hatred is borne out of true love. Such deep rage is ignited by a betrayal so atrocious that it burns their soul but condemns them to live. It eats away everything -’ His voice had cracked into a whisper, ‘.. just leaves behind a shell that seeth with fury and hate.’

Damein sniffed, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

‘Zenos is not a monster. No God who despises his Archon, protects him in a battle like a shield. He had no reason to protect Lennox or - you. But he did, anyway. Open your eyes, Silas. It is not a curse that kills an Archon but the fate that they share with their God. Both are destined to be consumed by their fury.’

Silas felt a sharp ache in his chest, where his heart was supposed to be. A stray drop of tear rolled down his eyes. Ruhan had defended Zenos, as if he had known him forever. In truth, he remembered nothing about him, that is, if they really had ever known each other. He was defending his intuitions. 

Silas at least had known Lennox for a day. He beat him senseless in the streets, demanding he take him to Erie. He did not but he still lived. He woke up not in some dungeon, but in a small room with a view he longed for. He even bought him clothes. What kind of a messed up monster was Lennox?

Silas did not know. He had been following his intuition just like Ruhan did. The reason behind it still eluded him, a haze he hadn’t been able to part since the day he left Nimit.

Quietly, he rested his head on Ruhan’s shoulder, eyes fixed on the dying light spilling across the horizon.
Strange, how the boy had come to mean so much in so little time.
As if their paths had always been meant to cross.

‘How will all this end, Ruhan?’ he asked, the question barely more than a breath.

Ruhan didn’t turn to look at him.

‘Destiny has its own mechanisms, Silas,’ he said, his voice calm as ever.

‘And it does not abandon the ones it calls.’