#left me wanting to explore waidwen a bunch more

[joshbii]

8. As did the Saints in other times 👀

Prompts

As Did the Saints in Other Times

Did they expect a Dozen to stand against the Dawn their sins had wrought? Or merely to cast a shadow, starting strong and shrinking as the Sun rises, that the rest of them may slink about in the dying darkness and await Judgement elsewhere?

The Saint marched before his men, a marshal and martyr both. He did not march alone, nor did he ever, for in his heart, his mind, his soul, he felt the warmth of the blazing Sun. And yet, that warmth stopped shy of granting him peace, as if the Shining God held some deeper truth at arm’s length.

The Dozen before him, he would not let slip his moment of doubt. The Dawnstar’s light descended upon those who would oppose him, and in that instant one was cast ablaze, engulfed by purifying flame. But the Saint took no delight, nor even satisfaction, as another soul returned to the Wheel, for he knew now that something was amiss.

The ground trembled. Stone cracked underfoot, a tremor rippling through the ancient structure of Evon Dewr. It was not fear that the Saint felt in that moment; it was the burning. Not his god’s warmth – no, this was a white-hot, searing thing that crawled through him and held him there, his body no longer his own. It screamed within his mind, pulling taut like a thread about to snap. As the terrible, twisted light began to shine through the cracks in the stonework, he knew well that he was to die.

Eothas had known this would happen. He must have. And yet, the Saint found no anger as he drew his final breaths. It had not been Eothas who had brought him here; his god had been to him a father and a priest both; offering direction and counsel, but knowing all too well that one must be left to make their own choice, in the end.

A father and a priest both. A fitting description of a god, perhaps. Or a saint. But a father is willing to lay down his life for his children, and a priest for his beliefs. Perhaps the other gods would lay nothing down, but Eothas would. And so would he; he would be a martyr, as had the saints in other times.

It mattered not that his war was unfinished, nor that his name might be lost to time; all that mattered now was that they saw the light that followed, and took from it a lesson he was yet too blind to see.

If there was an answer here, it was not for him to know. Perhaps that was the final lesson, he pondered as the blast reached him; that we must walk willingly into the light, blindly at times, trusting that it will not consume us.