Dark to Light

Nastal got up from his bed at the smell of the candle. He put on his gray robe and looked out the window of the temple at the calm sea and the first drops of rain. One of his assistants at the temple, the young Semta, had awakened him hours earlier with several pieces of disturbing news. In the absence of the queen, he had to attend to all matters, great and small, to avoid any surprises. Nastal intended to follow the royal command as faithfully as the gods would allow him. He offered a prayer to Revedon, asking for calm waters, both figuratively and literally. He also prayed for the safe return of the queen, whom he loved deeply—a truth he barely admitted even before the gods. He ate some cheese and bread and then left his quarters.

The great hall of the temple had not yet been opened. His assistants were all working in the library, copying scrolls and books—a sacred mission with no end. Nastal was a lover of history, both of the Trident and of the other kingdoms. However, time for study had diminished considerably in recent years, as his obligations at the Rock Castle had taken up more and more of his time. When the doors of the temple opened, people were ushered in and a series of rituals began. Nastal, however, would not be in attendance today. The responsibility had fallen to Semta and the other assistants. On the steps of the temple, Semta stood beside a young man in a wretched state.

"Maynar," said Nastal, "you're here again, unfortunately."

The dark-haired man stood up with difficulty. His clothes were stained with drink, food, vomit, and blood, and Nastal covered his nose with a handkerchief to avoid becoming disgusted.

"Forgive me, Your Holiness," Maynar said theatrically, making a bow that only further irritated the priest.

"What has he done now?"

Semta hesitated. "Trouble in the tavern, Brother Nastal. He was caught drinking from other people's drinks, eating their food, and generally disturbing people. Mr. Tom has asked for an exemplary punishment."

"And he shall have it."

The young man seemed to wake up abruptly.

"What do you mean? I didn't commit any crime."

The priest's hand moved quickly, and a slap interrupted the young man, who couldn't believe his eyes.

"Silence. The queen is away, Maynar, and the island has too many needs that fall on my shoulders. I cannot deal with the likes of you. If you do not have the ability to help your country, then do not make it worse. I swear before Revedon that this will be your last time."

The young man turned pale. He tried to salvage his image by straightening his clothes and fixing his hair a little.

"Your punishment is to help the brothers inside with copying the scrolls."

Maynar's face fell.

"Please, Your Holiness, have mercy on me. There is no worse torment."

Nastal's eyes flashed with rage.

"It is far more than you deserve. I should have you flogged. Since, for some reason, the gods deem it necessary for you to read and write, I will also require you to contribute something to the land."

"It's not that I don't want to, O Nastal. I would have no problem helping with the writing of any other work."

"And why is that?" the priest asked.

"It just bothers me that the brothers..." Maynar hesitated.

"Well?"

"How can I put it? They alter the text."

"Alter the text? Explain."

"They're not just altering it. They're distorting the facts. They write with a flourish, always emphasizing the grace of the gods."

"And you think that's wrong? Are you forgetting that we are servants of the Final Light, with a responsibility to highlight their work on every line?"

"I don't forget at all. I'm just a lover of history, accuracy, and truth. I can't bear to write distorted facts."

Nastal narrowed his gaze.

"A history buff, huh?"

"See, I'm a well-known chronicler."

Semta laughed, and Maynar looked at him, affronted.

"Last week you were a rhapsodist; the week before, you were a poet."

"I am all of those things," Maynar complained.

"You are none of these things," Nastal said. "But you could be a less pathetic assistant if you try, Maynar. Don't test my patience any further; I warn you."

Maynar snapped. He realized there was no chance of winning this argument.

"So be it," he finally said. "How long will my punishment last?"

Nastal seemed not to understand the question.

"As long as it takes, young man. Believe me, if I relieve you of your duties now, you'll know."

With his last words, Nastal left the young man to his predicament and proceeded to the Rock Castle. There was important news to be investigated.

The castle stood on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the endless sea that rippled endlessly under the gray sky of Ayaton. The throne of Siriafil Elaya was made of sea rock, and every inch of this castle held a special place in Nastal's heart. But it wasn't the castle or the queen that gave Nastal restless nights. It was the wind that blew through the window at night, carrying whispers from the depths of the ocean. It was the uneasy feeling that flared in his chest, a message from the heavens that he could not interpret.

Much had happened in the last few years. The kings of the empire had forbidden ships from passing through the Vespia Sea to the west. How many ships had that gluttonous ocean swallowed? None were ever spat back. Almost none, if you believe the stories that a man brought with him a few years ago when he washed up on the Rain Coast. But the man had disappeared as abruptly as he had appeared, and since then, the stories became gossip and songs, and soon the residents returned to their routines.

Today, however, a new castaway had appeared. From the nets of fisherman Marby, another strange man had set foot on the Rain Coast.

Accompanied by a guard, Nastal descended into the dungeon, passing empty cells. Rats scurried aimlessly around the place, and Nastal took off his handkerchief again, briefly placing it over his nose. At the end of the corridor, a small candle illuminated the only occupied cell.

Darmakaya stood up, and the chains creaked. Both Nastal and the guard were startled by the man's height and his terrifying wings. The prisoner put his hands on the bars.

"Get me out of here."

Nastal couldn't believe his eyes. A huge tattoo covered his chest, giant wings stretched behind him, and scars from countless battles marked his body. There was no doubt anymore.

"Darmakaya," he finally said. "The Stone Kraken."

"So you know me?"

Nastal nodded for the guard to leave and stayed at a safe distance.

"Do I know you? Of course, you're a legend on these seas. A gargoyle. How did you end up here?"

"You don't know?"

"I want to hear it from you."

He sat down on the stone bench a short distance away. In the dim light, Darmakaya's face appeared half-formed, with rough angles and rugged features.

"I was washed out to sea."

"Did you have a shipwreck?"

"Not exactly."

No one spoke for a while.

"You injured four men on the beach today."

"I didn't have time to react, old man. I woke up and was being carried by eight people; it was just instinct."

"You woke up? You mean you were asleep in the water?"

"I was stone."

Nastal was skeptical. He knew about the properties of gargoyles but had never seen them in practice.

"So it is true that you can become statues. For hours? Days?"

"Years, old man, if we wish. What is that symbol on your neck? Are you a priest? I thought so. I've seen many of your kind on the ships."

"Don't you like priests?"

"I like them very much. They're always on the richest ships."

Nastal narrowed his eyes.

"You've been a statue for years, then?"

"I wasn't a statue," Darmakaya said, lowering his head and looking nervous.

"We are not statues, priest. We turn to stone, yes, and look like statues. But our senses remain. Not with the same sharpness, but they remain."

Nastal stood up and lit a few more candles in the surrounding area. The light revealed more of the dungeon's grim corners.

"Of course. You are the watchers. You stay petrified on towers and in castles. You're guardians, right?"

"If you're referring to me, no, that's wrong."

"Of course. You're different."

"So the conflict," Darmakaya continued, "was an accident?"

"Three of them are still getting stitches. One will be scarred for life."

"That's okay. Look at me; I'm covered in scars, but I'm fine."

"Oh, but I think you've got something, Darmakaya. I think something happened in the water. Tell me I'm wrong!"

Darmakaya hesitated. Fear took root in him again. Every thought that drove him back to the past hit with terrifying force. He didn't want to delve any further.

"I was in the water, priest. It doesn't matter how or why. I'm here now."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Darmakaya felt dizzy. Explosions, screams, steel, the deep ocean, darkness, and then, a violin.

"I don't remember anything," he finally said. "I think I was in the water for a long time. Sometimes, memories come back slowly."

Nastal didn't believe his lies.

"How long has it been?"

"You don't know?"

"No," Darmakaya replied irritably. "We control the exact moment we turn to stone, but we hardly control the reset. Are you happy now?"

"Shocking. The year is 2012."

Darmakaya closed his eyes. "Four years in the water. Damn."

"It seems incredible to me that you can stand still and have time slip away like that, Darmakaya."

"I'm glad I amuse you. Look, I don't remember. If I do remember, I'll tell you the whole story. Now get me out of here and show me the way to the nearest inn. I've already eaten a rat, I tell you."

Nastal seemed surprised. He got up and faced him.

"Get you out of here? Why would I do that?"

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything wrong. It was all a misunderstanding. You can ask your fishermen."

"Them? I don't doubt that at all," replied Nastal, laughing. "I'm sure that's just how things happened. However, you are Darmakaya, the Stone Kraken—legendary pirate, bandit, murderer, and rapist. Why should I let you go?"

In a fit of rage, Darmakaya lunged at the bars. He screamed and thrashed, and for a moment Nastal thought the bars would give way under his strength. However, they held.

"How dare you? Is this how justice works here? Is there no law? A trial? I demand a hearing!"

"A hearing? You're having a hearing right now."

"You have a queen here. Elaya."

"She's away on important business," Nastal replied coldly. "As for laws and justice, I don't think you're entitled to invoke them, are you?"

"I'll slaughter you, priest!" Darmakaya shouted, continuing to growl. He kept thrashing and growling as Nastal walked out.

"The gods sent you here, Darmakaya. Until I understand their will, you will remain locked up for all that you have done. I suggest you pray."

And with these words, he left Darmakaya alone in the dungeon.