Ecco seemed like a corpse. Am I dead? He asked himself the same thing again. The poor boy had lost his track of time. Could it have been a day already? He knew nothing of the sort. Flamen… my tutor… the Fledge—are they here, too? He thought it likely, but not for Enoch nor Lady Hyacinthe.
No sight. All that he could do was think and hear. It was all his state allowed him.
"A dead boy," cried out a voice. "Dead as a corpse, you would think, hm? How did this happen?"
"Dragon fire."
The voice seemed to take a step back. "Not as dead as I thought…" the voice remarked as he laughed. "You are no less incredible than any dragons I've been with! Please, boy, you must tell me your name."
For a moment, he hesitated. Afterall, why would he grant a stranger that he couldn't even see his own name? "Evo," he lied. "My name is Evo."
"Mm…" The voice began to circle him. "The name of a Redland boy! Which town do you hail from?"
"Tysan-Town."
"Merchant family, I presume… and your lords?"
Ecco thought for a moment. "House… Tenet!"
The voice halted in its tracks for a moment, taking in the reply. "Tell me, boy… what castle does House Tenet hold, hm?"
Brownborne… Could that be the answer? He was fond of history, but he was no scholar of geography. Sunvalley… The Twin Towers… All he listed until he found his answer. "They hold the castle Rocky Tower," he answered.
The voice continued to circle him again. "You ought to lie better, boy!"
"But I do not lie," he claimed. "My… my name is—"
"Not Evo, I am sure of that," the voice snapped. "Tysan-Town is ruled by House Waeste. Their castle and seat of power is Reddin-Hall… you really could've done better. Don't be afraid, dear boy. You have no reason to fear me since you think you're already dead. What is your name?"
The boy could give no reply as he kept thinking of what to say.
"Well? Have you no tongue now?" the voice asked. "I know very well I won't die for another eternity… but you making me wait will. Speak, boy! Have no fear!"
"Ecco…" he finally gave in. "My name is Ecco… and who are you?"
The voice seemed to disappear for a moment. "And why would I reveal my name? Sure, you have given me yours… but we arrived at no such agreement."
"You dare trick me?"
"I do not trick you! I like to think you fooled yourself." The voice laughed again. "It's quite amusing seeing men trip at grammar in their own tongue they've sown, don't you think?"
"Plenty of men are fools," he replied. "I ran into a flaming pillar to save my tutor… I might have killed my companion, too."
It stopped in its tracks once more. "You… ran… into a flaming pillar of burning doom? I'm starting to see why your hand is… to say the least—non-existent."
"It's gone?"
"Unfortunately for you, indeed."
Then perhaps I've failed, he thought. "Dragged my friend to his own demise, sacrificed my hand, all for… what?" As if it were a miracle, his eyes finally opened, revealing to himself that he was high above the clouds, gazing upon floating isles filled with trees adorned with pink leaves, grass that seemed to dance, and more wonders.
"You're eyes… I did not bless you," said the voice. In front of Ecco was a young lad of twenty, with locks of silver white hair and pale eyes, looking as if he had only a circular outline of black.
"What… where… how…"
"Yes, I know. Where am I? Who are you? What are you?" The boy looked at him closer. "I've heard all of those questions before. It all gets under your skin, my dear boy. Trust me."
Ecco tried not to look down but focused on the lad in front. "I would like it if you answered those questions."
"You… are inside your own head… or to suit it better, you're dreaming something that's true… to the extent of what you believe, of course," he answered, taking his fingers and forcefully widening the poor boy's eyes.
"You've answered only one," he protested. Unfortunately for Ecco, he was paralyzed—lucid, but had no movement whatsoever.
"And I'm sure you'd like me to answer the list of questions you have."
Yes, he wanted to yell out. But he knew he was a fool if he were to anger him. He could kill me now, he thought. If he found me foul, he would turn me into the corpse I thought I was.
The boy stopped for a moment and flew backwards. "Are you… one of mine?"
"I… I already have a father—"
"My followers, boy—not one from my loins. I know very well I cannot have the same pleasure you humans have… Not fair at all," he whispered.
"You are a god, then?" asked he. "I am talking to a god? Then… surely, that means I've died, haven't I? Oh… Oh, gods no… they're dead, too—all of them! Luke… he's—he has murdered them all by now…"
But he was interrupted. He could feel it—he no longer had a mouth. "Calm down, boy," the lad demanded. "Be not afraid."
Ecco nodded. He knew it was wise to stop. The one he talked to was a god, and he knew that now. But Flamen… the academy… all of them are surely… He did not dare finish that thought.
"You mentioned a name," the lad recalled. "Luke… I seem to remember a boy named Luke… what was he like—the boy you met?"
"A foreign boy," he answered. "Of odd skin, short curly hair, and teeth…"
"Sharpened like a beast's." His voice was terrifyingly grim for that of a god, causing the dreaming boy to nearly piss his pants. "And the pillar of fire… how did that happen?"
"Luke." That was all he had to explain. "Do you… know him, perhaps?"
"Of course I know," he replied. "He served me well—kept the soldiers in shape, fought with them, ate with them, and took down a hundred men with a single wave of fire… I… I did not expect this rampage, boy. Believe me. I waged war once… never again."
For a moment, Ecco saw the god's own discomfort upon hearing the name. "The Conquest of Stars… the year the serpents sank."
The god nodded. "I assume you've read it in your books."
"I have," he answered. "Plenty of books written in the last ten years… I've read a dozen, my lord."
"Then you must've read so many names… valiant warriors, the foul ones, the famous ones, the men that women fantasize over—all of them. How many do you remember?"
"Tutor Wace was often there himself," he recalled. "Growing bones from the ground, bending the wind as if he had wings of a dragon. I remember the names of many knights as well… Ser Erik Oldjaw, Ser Fabian Tyn… plenty of things about them were written—"
"Fought well, killed some men, brought home glory, I assume? All the same to me, dear boy."
Ecco found that displeasing, knowing that the knights he admired were seen by their god as stale. "Not quite," he replied. "I seem to have read Ser Erik Oldjaw as a man who rode gators into battle and Ser Fabian as a man that fought with cloth for armor. There were also kings!"
"And all did… what? Ruled and led in battle… that's all you saw as well, wasn't it?"
"And they did them well," he insisted. "Kings are made kings for a reason, my lord. Ser Erik did not ride gators for fashion—he tamed them and gave them to his men so that they may not drown when the rivers flooded! Ser Fabian fought with cloth because he had no gold to buy armor! They are honorable men! Good men! And people see them so!"
"The people see them for what the bards sing," he replied. "Have a man fiddle a song about some boy—have him cry, 'He slayed a thousand, fair and good! Took the castle from which they stood. The boy was tall and handsome, indeed! In the hearts of women, he plants his seed!' And tell me how many will fall as fools to that song and it would be countless… but what of the true men?"
They were true men… all of them, he assured himself. "They fought for you."
"That they did. But my issue is not with them," he snapped. "When you read a book, do you find the name Luke anywhere—the true soldier of the legions? When you read a book, are the names of squires like Willo Egg named and praised? Of course, not. I saw them fight and I saw plenty perish. I am a god… I know… but none of you do."
Now, Ecco found himself grasping for an answer as to where they really were written. No man writes names of men he finds unimportant, he thought. A squire will be a squire and a knight a knight… I wonder who they picked…
The god tilted his head up to gaze at the sun and said, "I blessed that boy. I saw in him potential—how much he dreamed of… but I was blind… and punished to see his loyalty drive him insane. How many have died in my hand, Ecco? How many souls?"
He did not know. Maybe more were killed after he had fallen, but he was certain it was plenty. "I cannot recall," he answered.
"Countless… maybe that is what you mean."
This was the moment he realized the truth. Even a god is a victim of guilt. "My lord," he began. "Could you not rain your wrath on him? Perhaps you could recast your blessing and render him no more powerful than a boy—"
"No."
"But… you are a god. You have power!"
"I said no, dear boy." The lad lowered his head, admiring the isles in front. "Not yet… your tutors are yet to present him to me. Old Wace's men should have taken him to me in my mountain… but I can feel them gone, boy. Gone. He has killed them and thus, the foul hound is sent loose."
Ecco did not desire to process the idea. "Luke… rampant upon the world with the blessing of a dragon god…"
Even the lad himself fell silent. "It seems I have blessed you already, however. Your eyes are already white… but I do not remember blessing you, Ecco… I don't."
Cannot be, he thought to himself. Tutor Wace never gave me the blessing. But he knew it was the god who spoke. He could not argue with that.
"Dear boy," the god called. "How you have garnered my blessing without my own approval; I do not know… but I like to think your foolish heroism did you good. Tell me, how much of a fool are you, truly?"
Stupidly so, he wanted to answer. "Enough."
The god turned towards him, his pale white eyes glimmering as the sun hit them. "Then find him. If you are such a heroic fool, then search for Luke and bring him to me."
"And send myself into an early grave?" Ecco's eyes did not look away. "I cannot face him. He is the boy who burned my hand, who murdered those innocent lives you claimed to care for—he trapped your most powerful follower in a pillar of fire!"
The god widened his eyes as if to send a warning. "You will not face this alone. Even I am not as foolish. And you are not like a warrior either, dear boy. Take whoever you wish, but find Lucifer."
"Lucifer... if not?"
His eyes, already empty, seemed to turn more void the more he stared. "Death. Chaos. War… You know what happened, dear boy… The corpses will stack like mountains and he will laugh thinking he has done it for me. Now, answer me. Will you become that same boy that ran into the fire?"
…
"Upon my foolish honor."
Thus, the lord smiled and lifted his hand, "Farewell, then. You have plenty of friends waiting for you and a quest you've sworn. But beware, dear boy… I am a god. I trust you see this to happen… Awake, warrior."
***
As Ecco opened his eyes, all he saw above him was a white dragon, drawn upon the stone ceiling as it breathed fire upon sea serpents of blue and silver-gold. My hand. He felt it to see if it was really burnt. Alas, there was only a stump.
"Ecco!"
Before he could think, the body of an excited Flamen had been sent down upon him to give the injured boy an embrace. "Still… hurts…" he struggled.
"You fool! You one magnificent fool!" he exclaimed, laughing alongside the two others that entered. "Enoch and Lady Hyacinthe are here because of you," he said as he turned himself over to Ecco's side. "Thank the gods."
"Tutor Wace… is he well?" The injured boy sat up to search the room.
The tall Enoch stepped forward. "He's alive," he answered. "The other tutors have taken him to a room to be healed. He is old, but still very strong. You need not worry about…"
"About…what?" He had noticed both of the Fledge staring at him, each with expressions of shock. "What… what is it?"
"Flamen," Lady Hyacinthe called. "How long until your blessings are given?"
"We're only Hatchlings," said the boy. "It would take weeks more… why?"
The realization had dawned on Ecco. My eyes, he thought. The god's blessing. Swiftly, he took the white blanket aside and looked into the closest mirror. While blurry and stained, he saw what he saw… eyes of white that glowed dimly.
"How…" Enoch could not say a word. "Was he given the blessing by the tutor when he was asleep?"
"I think not." Lady Hyacinthe stepped closer to the boy. "I saw none enter. Perhaps he was given the blessing before Luke's rampage—"
"No." Slowly, the injured boy turned around to look at them. "I… I dreamt of a god. I did not know if I dreamed or not, but I knew I was lucid. He talked about Luke and… made me take a vow to find him… He was a young man—silver haired, with eyes…"
"…Of pale white…." Enoch took another step forward, his head tilted as if he were still confused. "…of only a circular outline of thin black."
"Do you know?"
Lady Hyacinthe gave only a nod. "The White Dragon," she replied. "And now it seems you've been given his blessing quite early. Sit down, Ecco. Tell your tale."