#there are so many paragraph indents idk why i was just copy/pasting the html from ao3

[secondsonaym]

The Vessel Project - Shamura's Foreword + Fragility [Narinder 1]

(read on Ao3 here)

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This night marks one year since we came into power. Since we took the crowns for ourselves. Since we promised to do better than those we had overthrown.

  I am a contemplative person, assuredly, but my mind does not desire to dwell on that time. Though much of it was spent in the throes of belief, of devotion, that all proved to be wasted energy. The ones we trusted had been using us… Using everyone. 

  How do you think it feels… To find out the ones you had put so much trust in, the ones who promised to make everything better… Were in fact, doing the exact opposite, all to uphold their status quo.

  It’s devastating. And then, you pick up the pieces they dropped, and place the expectation on yourself to make something better from nothing but scraps.

  How does one wrench something holy from something so broken?

    I hate it.

    However… I cannot simply let it sit in me untouched. 

  So I am writing this record, with the assistance of my siblings to fill in the gaps, in the hopes that having it in a physical form will quiet the growing itch in my brain.

  I, Shamura, now bearer of the Purple Crown, bishop of War and Knowledge, commit this to writing:

    This is the story of five children and five birds.

  Five children who did not know of, nor deserved, the hell they would be put through.

  And the five birds that orchestrated it.

    This is the fall of the quintet that shall never be spoken of again… Lest the wounds they have marred the land with open back up.

    And hopefully… This will be the rise of those who broke free of their blind devotion in order to make the right choice for everyone in the land.

Fragility

Shamura has turned the pen to me in order to start this recollection off. I suppose it is only fair, as I had ended up in the center of it all. Therefore, the actual beginning would start with my perspective. 

  I… Have not had the proper time to contemplate or process things myself, I must be frank. Unification of the sects has been very busy work, and the manner through which I acquired the Red Crown… Was harrowing.

  So forgive me if I ramble.

  It all began eight years ago, when I was but ten years old.

------

    A hazy crackle split the air as I stared down the coast of the hill. Though it was the height of summer, the warmth I felt was not from the sun’s rays, but the burning town below. 

  The screams had stopped long ago. Everyone who had been in the town had either managed to flee or had succumbed to the heat and smoke, laying in the rubble and waiting to be found among the ashes at a later point.

  I was not from the town, no. I had been in my spot since before the fire started, and I watched it light up in the early hours of the morning. Nobody noticed me, and I ignored the distant screams for help.

  “What have you observed, Narinder?” Came the voice of the one who had started the blaze.

  “All it took was a spark.” I replied, not turning away, still transfixed by the colors of the flames. “One small ember, and the entire thing went up.”

  “Fragility,” He said, and I finally turned to face Him. “That is today’s lesson.”

  The fire-starter stood in the shade of a nearby tree, His snaking neck twisted down so his head would not catch in the branches. Amidst the dry greens of the surrounding area, His snow-white plumage and red-patterned robe stood out, even in the shadows.

  “Sir,” I began, my tail slowly waving as I considered my words, “How does fragility of a town apply to fragility of life?”

  “Think about it, boy.” He said, “A small mistake causing a fire just like this one… And that’s all it takes to kill any number of people. There’s no telling when it would happen. The same can be applied to mortal bodies.”

  “Bodies?”

  “A strike to the head a bit too hard… A blow at just the right spot in the spine… A stab from somebody’s concealed weapon. Things one cannot predict, nor act fast enough to defend against. One false step, and one’s life is forfeit. Much like that stray spark.”

  I looked back to the flames, pondering His words. I now understood just what He meant, but something gnawed at me.

  “What of the survivors?” I finally asked.

  “Mm? We let them live, of course. They won the draw. They were lucky. So they can carry on.”

  Lucky… That word stuck with me. That’s what He had said when we first met.

  I recalled why I was with Him to begin with: Raiders from the sect of Chaos, destroying the village I lived in, killing my family, and somehow leaving only me behind. He had taken notice, attracted by the death and finding me out in the wilderness all alone. He offered me a place by His side after hearing my story.

  “You are a lucky boy,” He had said, “to have seen so much death without even a scratch.”

  I had only been seven at the time, and in my grief refused to agree with Him. I did not believe my survival was lucky. It felt punishing. To be without those I had known my whole life.

  But three years later, as I watched the town steadily crumble into dust, I knew that He was right.

    The habits of life and death were fickle, and it was not that we channeled these forces by the act of existing, not at all. We pulled them up from the depths of the earth, and begged them to let us have the experience of the world. They wrote the terms of our stay, and when time was up, it was up. There was no fighting it.

  That was how He operated. He did not take lives directly, and instead left it up to chance. 

  “I am not a facilitator of the whims of the world.” He had explained one night, when I had asked Him why He refused to stain His hands. “I am merely the one who rolls the dice. If Death wishes to take what it is owed at that moment… Then so be it.”

  “It is time we head back to the temple.”

  My attention snapped back to the present when He finally spoke, arching His neck out from under the cover of the leaves. He took a few steps back the way we had come from, only pausing to see if I was following.

  I gave one final look to the scene below before I turned and hurried after Him.

  We walked in silence for a fair distance, my mind mulling over today’s lesson. Not all of the things He taught me were through demonstrations such as this, but it was usually ones of this manner that left me thinking on things longer.

  It was odd, His manner of teaching. He did not have me write notes or physically experiment with things around me, and instead merely had me observe the world as things happened. But I suppose that was to be expected, due to the nature of His sect.

  Of the Old Faith, the sect of Death was small and quiet compared to the others. Our Lord did not ask for loud, expressive devotion, and merely requested we observe Life and Death in their equilibrium. For Death was not something you could shed belief in. It was always there. 

  Acknowledgement of Death is an inherent belief in it.

“It’s laughable, how they must reinforce their belief through acts of flagellation.” He had commented, when we had once caught sight of a ritual of War. “But I suppose without that reinforcement, it simply wouldn’t exist. It does not exist unless it is manifested by the living.”

  The ritual was… brutal. A person, marked a ‘traitor’ by the rest, stood chained in place, while the worshippers of War circled them. One by one, a worshiper would approach and hold a knife, going for parts of the traitor as they screamed.

  “No eyes to look to the illusions of the enemy,” Said the one who gouged them out.

  “No ears to hear lies of the enemy,” Continued the next, slicing them free.

  They continued like that.

  “No tongue to parrot the falsehoods of the enemy,”

  “No fingers to hold the enemy’s weapon,”

  “No heart to be changed by the enemy’s fake promises.”

  With that final chant, the knife went into the traitor’s chest, and they stopped crying out. Blood pooled, creeping into the crevices of the stone below them.

  Though we watched, He did nothing. He did not need to mess with the body in order to claim the soul. It would come His way eventually.

“Narinder.” He suddenly spoke, once again pulling me from my thoughts. “Go hide in the shadows. Now.”

  I did not question Him. Without a word, I stepped quickly and softly into the dense shade of the treeline, standing still while fixing my eyes on Him.

  He stood still for a moment, long neck stretched towards the canopy. It would have been an unsettling sight, were you not used to Him.

  “Zuriel, darling, what is it you want?” He asked, a lingering touch of irritation in His voice.

  “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” Came His voice, right back at Him. But I had been watching Him the whole time, and His mouth had not moved in that instance.

  At once, a figure appeared out of the shade near Him, an unsettling mess of browns and greens, disorienting to the point I was unsure what I was looking at initially--But when I caught sight of the bright green diamond perched upon its head, I got a good idea as to the answer.

      Zuriel, the bishop of Chaos. I had only ever heard of the other bishops through descriptions from Michael, but He had stressed that coming into contact with them was not a wise idea. No wonder He had told me to hide.

  “Why are you spreading death in my land, Michael?” The new arrival asked, still in His voice.

  It lowered its head, threading its beak into the scruff of plants it wore around its collar in a preening motion. It did not seem angry or impatient in any form, despite the question it had asked.

  “You should know why.” He replied coolly. “Death is fickle. Death is random. It just felt right.”

  “I do not care for your current fixation with fire.” It answered, eyes slowly raising back up to look at Him. “Reminds me too much of that time a few centuries ago where you had an interest in lightning strikes.”

  “Hah,” He laughed, but His voice was hollow. “It is merely what I am channeling my energy into, Zuriel. Worried I am encroaching on your domain of Chaos?” 

  “Three years is but a blink to the likes of us, Michael.” It said. “That’s why we can tell something has changed in you. Something has felt so suddenly… Wrong.”

  “Surely you did not come all this way to scold me.” Was all He said.

  “There is a summons for you.” Came its response after a slight pause. The voice it was using was different now, steady and controlled with some strange metallic tone.

  “Ah. From Raziel, why am I not surprised.” He sighed. “What does she want now?”

  “All of the bishops are requested.” Zuriel continued in its new voice. “To discuss the plans of the vessel project.”

  He was silent for a while, staring down at Zuriel and tilting His head at a few different angles. I saw Him steal a glance to where I hid, but He otherwise did not acknowledge me.

  “Why am I to be summoned?” He finally asked. “Raziel knows full well that I am not interested in her latest plans for power.”

  “You and Phanuel share these sentiments. But as long as our lives are, they are not eternal. We must consider other options. You are not expected to do anything, but you are required as a witness. Everyone else shall be bringing their selected disciples.”

  He let out a slow sigh, neck straightening fully to the point it hurt my neck to look up at Him. He stared into the overhanging leaves for a while, before finally coiling His neck again, looking down at Zuriel.

  “Very well. I assume the meeting place shall be Raziel’s temple?”

  “Correct. At moonrise.”

  “I will make my way when it is time, then. Thank you, Zuriel. May your day be as unpredictable as a rushing river .” He bowed His head, speaking the formal farewell of those in the Chaos sect--a gesture of politeness, on His part.

  “ And may you find calmness in night’s mimicry of the end. ” Zuriel returned with the words of our own sect, and the voice of Michael.

  And with that, Zuriel turned and vanished into the same shadows it had appeared from. 

  He stared after it for a while, and I could see spots on His neck where feathers were standing on end. He was angry, but trying His best not to show it. Whether that was out of mercy for me or that He simply didn’t find it productive, I did not know.

    “Narinder.” He called after a long moment, turning His head in my direction. I stepped out of my hiding spot and closer to His side, eyes wide with curiosity but hesitant to say anything.

  “Let us resume our return to the temple.” He mumbled. “When we get there, you are to study your verses for the rest of the evening. I have business to attend to, as you likely heard.”

  “What is the ‘vessel project?’” I couldn’t help but ask, though immediately clapped a paw over my mouth. How foolish, I thought, for being so nosy! He was surely to reprimand me, for slipping back into what was probably my most frustrating habit when I was younger.

  But He merely looked down at me for a moment, before pulling a taloned hand out from under His robe and setting it on my shoulder.

  “Curiosity killed the cat, Narinder.” He said, repeating the phrase I had heard so often in the past three years. “It is best you remain oblivious… If just to this one thing. Now, let’s be on our way.”

  We returned to the temple some time later, Michael using His power over shadows to make the otherwise long trek a matter of minutes. It was still early in the afternoon, but few others were present in the temple’s foyer. The ones who were, bowed their heads in reverence as He passed, though he paid them no mind, as he usually did.

    “Welcome back, My Lord.” 

  As we reached the inner room of the temple, we found Ariel waiting for us. She was one of the acolytes in the temple, usually responsible for giving sermons to the followers and managing the temple’s upkeep. She also looked after me when Michael did not have any lessons..

  “Sister Ariel,” Michael nodded towards her. “I have business to attend to with the other bishops. I will be leaving just before moonrise, so I trust you will be able to look after the temple in my absence?”

  “Of course, My Lord.” Ariel agreed with a bow. “And what of Narinder?”

  “His lesson for the day is finished.” Michael explained. “He is to study verses until it is time for bed.”

  “Then I would be glad to assist him.” Ariel said as she turned to smile at me. I returned the gesture, though not as widely… Smiling just wasn’t something I was used to, is all.

  “I will be in my quarters making preparations, should you need me.” He said as He turned and began to walk to one of the large doors at the back of the temple. “But see to it that I am not disturbed by anyone else.”

  Ariel bowed until the door closed with its heavy thunk, and then turned to look at me once again.

“How was the lesson, Narinder?” She asked, moving to a nearby table and beginning to clear its clutter. She took a leather-bound book that sat between a pair of bookends and set it in the middle of the cleared space, before gesturing for me to take a seat on the bench in front of it.

  “Today’s lesson was about fragility.” I said as I sat down. “He set off a spark, and it caught on the wind, catching on the thatch roof of a building, and then… The entire town burned. We watched it for a while.”

  “Mm, quite a profound lesson to learn.” She hummed, opening the book and flipping a few of its pages. “And some of the townsfolk managed to escape, yes?”

  “Mhm. Lord Michael said they were lucky.”

  “That they were. But you recall one of the key tenets of Death, yes?”

  “ Life and Death intertwine. Where Life sits, Death is perched on its shoulder. Where Death walks, Life follows in its footsteps. ” I recited.

  Ariel looked down to me with slight smile, before taking her own seat next to me. She took another book from the bookends and began to carefully leaf through it, so I turned to the scripture she had set in front of me.

  They were lines I was already quite familiar with, but considering my instructions from Michael, I looked over them anyway.

  Do not worship Death without respect for it as well.

Those who do now acknowledge its place, 

who see it as malleable, 

go against the pillars of this land.

  To bring back what has Died,

To make it Live again,

Is an affront to how things should be.

Memento mori. Invideo vitae.

  Those last two phrases were at the end of many verses, and I had learned their meaning fairly quickly after arriving at the temple: Remember Death. Envy Life. 

  “Death is always present. You musn’t forget it, as horrible of a thing people may think it is.” Ariel had explained when I asked her upon first reading it. “Life is so much easier for people to embrace, that Death is often overshadowed in importance. If I were to explain it, I would say Death is jealous of how much people like Life. Death is not malicious, it merely exists. And yet everyone seems to fear it.”

  “You’re odd.” Ariel’s voice suddenly broke in, snapping me from my thoughts.

  “Wh-What do you mean?” I stammered, looking to her in surprise.

  “There!” She said, pointing at me. “That! You hardly ever act like that anymore. Ten years old, and you already have the pensiveness of… Well, somebody as old as Lord Michael! And you hardly ever ask questions anymore… When you first arrived, it was kind of hard to get you to stop.”

  Was that… Odd? 

  “I stopped asking questions because Lord Michael didn’t like them.” I mumbled, eyes turning back to the verses, but not really reading them. “He always seemed annoyed when I asked Him something. So I stopped.”

  “Then I’ll need to speak to Him about that.” She sighed. “You’re the first child to really come to the temple, so I wouldn’t be surprised if He’s a bit… Inexperienced, dealing with children.

  “Kids your age… Don’t really act like that, is all. Asking a lot of questions is normal. ” She continued, in a bit of an apologetic tone. “But I guess without other kids for you to hang out with, you’re instead picking things up from the adults around you.”

  She set a gentle hand on my head, giving me a few slow pats. The gesture was kind--much like Ariel herself--but I didn’t exactly feel much assurance from it.

  After a moment, she withdrew her hand and sighed, before going back to the book she had been looking through. Despite trying to focus on my assignment, I kept finding my eyes flicking back to her, noting flashes of color between the pages of her book.

  “What… Are you doing?” I finally asked, having to push the question past my lips, which instinctively tried to seal shut any form of question.

  Ariel smiled again, managing a laugh. She then moved her book over on the table so I could see, and I found my eyes widening in surprise.

    Flowers… The pages were covered in several small flowers and petals, slightly dried and crinkly around the edges, but still recognizable. I carefully took the corner of the page and turned it, finding more of flowers of different species on the next page. 

  “It’s called flower pressing.” She explained as I slowly went through the book, taking time to examine each page. “You take a flower and press it between something, usually the pages of a book, to flatten it. It’s a method of preserving their beauty.”

  “And Lord Michael is fine with this?” I couldn’t help but ask. Wouldn’t something like this be considered against the teachings of Death? To keep something past its life?

  “Yes.” She answered. “In fact, He is the one who suggested it to me, when I expressed my interest in the blooms. The flowers are very much dead, Narinder, but they can still be acknowledged and admired even past that.”

  “Oh.” Was all I could really say in response. 

  I flipped through a few more pages, before pausing on one in particular, eyes shifting between it and Ariel’s clothing. The same bright red flowers she wore on her hip and collar were pressed on a page, striking against the pale color of the paper.

  “These are the same ones as your…”

  “They’re called camellias. There’s many of them on the temple grounds… I think they’re my personal favorite.”

  “They’re pretty.” I said with a nod, giving the book one last glance before closing it and sliding it back in her direction. “Thank you for letting me look.”

  “You’re welcome, Narinder.” Ariel said. “Perhaps you’d like to try it yourself at some point?”

  “Maybe.” Was all I said in response. I didn’t exactly see the point in the hobby other than it being, well, a hobby, so it wasn’t much to my interest. 

    I was about to turn back to my verses, when a sound split the air. Clutching my stomach, my fur stood on end, and my face flushed in embarrassment.

  “Narinder…” Ariel said, though her voice lacked any hostility. “When’s the last time you ate?”

  I lowered my head, hunching until my shoulders were level with my face. 

  “Um… I had breakfast before Lord Michael and I left.”

  “And you were out all day.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you didn’t eat anything while you were out?”

  “No.”

  Ariel let out a loud sigh, brow furrowing slightly. 

  “Of course. Because He doesn’t get hungry, so it wouldn’t cross His mind that--” She started to grumble, before shaking her head to calm herself.

  She stood up from her seat, pushing her book of flowers aside before reaching out for my hand. I took it and stood up after her, and she then began to lead me in the direction of the temple’s kitchen.

  “Let’s get you some dinner, then. Is there anything in particular you’d like?”

  “Do we have any squid?” I couldn’t help but ask, eyes lighting up. 

  “Of course you wouldn’t miss the opportunity to have some.” She laughed. 

  “It’s my favorite.”

  “I know, I’m just teasing, dear. Well, let’s see if we can find any.”