Chapter Text
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Kaveh isn't sure how it happens.
It was supposed to be a simple scouting trip to the desert, no longer than three to five days.
There are changes happening in Sumeru, movements that began with Lesser Lord Kusanali's release, and one of the main issues being addressed is the divide between the Akademiya and desert folk. For too long, those who lived in the desert have been short on previsions while the city and forest thrived aplenty.
When opportunity came for Kaveh to help in this endeavor, he leapt at the chance.
The Akademiya needs architects who are able and willing to explore options for housing in the desert plains, ways to give Eremites shelter beneath more than rock cliffs when sandstorms roll in, buildings to provide food and water to those who braved the scorching horizons, improvements on the tents they call home; easier to put up and take down when in need for quick travel, sturdier material.
There are countless ways the Akademiya can reach out and help enhance the livelihood of their neighbors of the desert, and in turn, the city can learn from them too. Creating mutual respect and benefits to tie Sumeru together, rainforest and desert.
Those are his intentions at least.
Kaveh agreed to be one of the leading architects in scouting out locations in the desert for future prospects. He would be one of the first pairs of professional eyes to mark suggestions on the map for where a small village could be maintained, where safehouses for any wanderers would be most beneficial, shelters for researchers, which oases were to remain untouched so as not to disturb natural order, where wenut activity would be too prevalent to ponder building anything.
The first trip was for collecting the data, which would then be presented to the eremites and other desert dwellers for review to discuss the info.
The Light of Kshahrewar was overjoyed with this assignment. A way to put his skills to use, to drive his passion forward, while also helping those in need! His heart had been beyond the clouds in excitement, and he looked forward to bringing his suggestions back to let those he sought to help see his vision, see how they could flourish if he was allowed to bring his touch to their sands.
But none of that would matter if Kaveh died before he could do any of that!
Only you would have luck so poor as this, a voice nagged in his head, sounding much too like a nitpicking roommate of his. How many others have explored this exact place, only for you to come along and the floor collapses?
Kaveh coughs. Shut up, he thinks back, mentally flicking a mini version of his junior away like a pesky piece of lint on his clothes. The image satisfies him an entire one second before the reality crashes on him full force.
“Archons,” Kaveh groans, his body aching from head to toe. There was a pressure around the lower back of his head that told him he likely got a taste of whiplash to his neck. From the stinging sensations blooming across his skin, he also reckons he has a new collection of bruises to match.
He takes a moment to collect himself, rising slowly so as not to perturb any possible broken bones. With just the motion of sitting up, he feels something pull near his ribs and looks down to see a red carnation on his white clothing.
Oh wait, that's blood, he realizes, delayed.
With gritted teeth and cautious hands, he slowly lifts his shirt to examine the injury.
A hiss escapes him.
It's not...great, he observes, but shakes his head and drops the fabric back down. But I've been through worse. I'll be fine.
A part of him notes that he's alone, and not meant to rendezvous with the rest of his team for another hour. Still, he's confident that while he may be recovered unconscious, he'll be found in time even in the worst case scenario.
“Ugh, Alhaitham is never going to let me live this down,” he grumbles to himself, bunching his ruined shirt to his open wound and applying pressure. With a huff, he forces himself on his feet and begins to survey the location.
Carmine eyes graze along the cavern walls. He looks for any familiar markings, any signs of light, life, water, air drafts. He finds nothing but rock, and more rock, with the mouth of the cavern leading into a maw of black where he can't see the other side of the cave.
Another quick look around, Kaveh searches for his mechanical toolbox, relief filling him when he sees her a ways away from him lying on the ground. She's a bit battered, a few new dents to her casing, but seems working well enough to be calibrating the damage done and rerouting power to currently running programs.
“Mehrak!” he calls, Vision blinking brighter for a moment. The toolbox jolts much like a startled pet, and with a mechanical whir, dutifully flies to his side. “Good,” he sighs in relief seeing her up close. “Looks like your core is perfectly fine, that's good. The rest we can fix when we get back.”
“Beep!”
Kaveh takes that as a happy confirmation and turns his mind back to his current predicament. He sighs again, running a hand through his already mussed hair. A self evaluation shows his quill is gone, as well as at least two of his hair pins, the flowy parts of his clothes are long torn, and he has streaks of dirt and scrapes all over from falling rock pebbles. As well as-
He looks down at his hand, the front of it sticky with his own blood where it's pressed against his wound.
Coughing once, he pushes back the anxious bile that tickles his throat and faces the matter at hand.
The architect cups his chin in thought. “That doesn't make any sense...” he mutters, squinting at the ceiling of the cavern he fell in.
The ceiling. How could there be a cavern ceiling when he fell down into it? He knows for sure he didn't slide down some sort of tunnel system. He'd been walking through a fairly well tread cave tunnel to mark the mouth of each side, investigating if it would be usable as a common passage between points, when the ground had collapsed beneath his feet.
He doesn't know how far he fell, though it couldn't have been too far, seeing as he survived. But then how did he come to be in some sort of tunnel with a ceiling? There should be a gaping hole above him where he fell through.
Kaveh shakes his head, detangling his thoughts as best he can.
Calm down, Kaveh. You know perfectly well how Sumeru ruins can be puzzles within puzzles. Madam Faruzan has warned you about this sort of thing many times.
He steadies himself to walk. No way to move but forward.
“Come on, Mehrak, this way.”
“Beep bee!”
On command, Mehrak maneuvers forward, letting her soft green glow guide the way through the dark tunnel.
They walk twenty paces as Kaveh parses his thoughts in the air. “Even if I did fall into some King Deshret mechanism, I can't have gone far from where I was. It won't take much for the team to find me with-”
“Bleep?”
Kaveh stops, eyes wide.
That's...impossible.
Mehrak's glow brightens as he channels more power through his Vision, but the truth before him doesn't change even with more light filtering through the dark around him.
It's a dead end.
“No, that's not...that's not possible,” Kaveh whispers. “I can't have gotten into an enclosed cavern, there has to be some opening or other tunnel I missed, that's not- wait, what's that?”
He stops, the slight panic swelling in his lungs loosening, chased away by curiosity.
Kaveh moves closer to the wall, guiding Mehrak to do the same to see better.
The flat wall that might spell his demise seems to spell other words as well.
Ancient script beautifully engraved in the stone glows a pale green. He stares for a moment, sifting through different markings until he finds a familiarity within them and his memories. “Ah, yes!” he thumps his fist. “This is that language Alhaitham insisted we learn together back when...well, it doesn't matter...”
It's a slightly recessed memory, or it would have been, if the scribe hadn't kept the habit of leaving the other little notes in various ancient languages for Kaveh to find and translate.
Such a Haravatat…
Either way, Kaveh is grateful to him for it now. If he makes it back alive, he may even treat him to a drink out of his own pocket.
When, he corrects himself. When I make it back.
“Let's see here,” Kaveh moves forward, switching the hand hugging his wound to brace himself on the stone for better sight, and replacing it with his other. It takes a moment for the words to find his tongue, so he reads it slowly.
“She will return
born anew
a different skin
familiar bloom
She will return
and so we stay
while sand swallows
and trees decay
She will return
a soul divine
may her blood call
upon the vine
She will return
born anew
She will return
Fate be true.”
Kaveh strokes the words reverently, brow pinched in a sense of awe and confusion. “It reads like a poem, or prophecy, but not one I'm familiar with.”
Someone else might be, he thinks begrudgingly, and heaves a sigh, standing up straight again. “Mehrak, take a picture of this, please. Once we find a way out of here, I'll-”
Something lurches near his feet.
“Woah! What the-” Kaveh whips around, eyes wide.
Vines. Vines are growing straight from the solid rock. As if they need no light, water, or time to do so. They slither around the script until it's an entire green wreath in the desolate cave. Before Kaveh can process it fully, the words begin to glow and the ground beneath his feet trembles.
His first thought is, “not again!”
He doesn't achieve a second one, as white light envelops his vision and he's gone.
Left behind, Mehrak suddenly drops to the floor, light fading with a final drawn out beeeep.
The bloody handprint pressed into the stone disappears, sinking into the rock.
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In his third year at the Academiya, Kaveh vaguely recalls having read about a foreign custom from another nation about making a set of resolutions for oneself at the beginning of each year. Goals to strive for, changes to make, something one resolves themselves to tackle.
If the architect were to make one such resolution of his own, he'd resolve to lessen the amount of times he wakes up confused and in a strange place.
His senses return to him in shards. First the smell of sand and sage, then the feeling of a cushion of some kind beneath his body, soft against his bruised skin. Next came the feeling of said wounds that were so peacefully dormant in the quiet of unconsciousness, now roar to the surface like volcano fire. He finds his sight last, as there are whispers of wind, sand, and a hum filtering in through thick fabric that reaches his ears faster than his eyes find the strength to open.
A groan leaves him, and the humming hushes.
In a blink, there's a jingle of beads and a body near him.
“Malikata? Goddess, are you awake?”
Kaveh blinks away the phosphenes clouding his vision, confounded at too many things at once to stay lying still. “Wh-what? Where....am I?”
“Praise be!” a man exclaims, round faced and giddy, he smiles without care for the gap of a missing tooth. “Oh Nabu Malikata, you've returned at last!”
The scholar sits up, still grounding his sense of reality into what he is witnessing. He seems to be in a small building built for the desert, finding several similarities to Aaru Village's structures to the walls around him. There is a clay pot on a rickety table to his right, dried with outward cracks from being left in the sun for too long, but still holding the water inside it. Tapestries hang near or above the open windows, beautifully colored and no doubt woven with clever hands. Mirroring these are the rugs on the floor of similar pattern.
Kaveh takes all of this in as swiftly as he can compute it before his gaze is brought back to the small jolly man who does something of a dance upon the carpets. The wrinkles in the corner of his eyes fold easily with years of smiling to carve them, and Kaveh would typically hate to squander such pure joy, but he is very confused and needs answers.
“Uh, excuse me, sir,” he begins, but startles when the man turns so quickly as to create a draft.
“Yes, yes, Your Majesty! What do you need so that I may fetch it for you promptly?” The stranger claps his hands in thought. “Ah, that's right! I need fetch the elder! Tell them that you're awake! Yes, yes!”
Kaveh opens his mouth to ask a question, any of them, for he has quite a pile built up by now, but is cut off by the sound of beads and jewels jingling as three people enter the room with eagerness in their steps.
“There is no need,” the woman says, “Hazem overheard and fetched me right away.”
Kaveh looks from person to person, a rising bile in his throat at the strangeness of everything. They nursed me back to health, so they don't seem to mean harm, but, he debates internally. The questions and theories volley in his mind before he finally settles on 'I need more information'.
He clears his throat. “H-hello. If I may, what is going on? Where am I? And who are you-?”
Warm, calloused hands cup his cheeks. He flinches, startled by the sudden affectionate gesture from a stranger. Eyes wide, he stares back at the woman, gaze flitting about her features.
“It truly is you,” she breathes, a shine to her gray-green eyes.
She looks to be around upper sixties in age. There's an ageless beauty to her in all her imperfections; a life well lived in her wrinkles, the artful placements of her moles, and the story of survival in a long scar above her brow. Her pale eyes contrast to her rich toned skin and her silver hair is streaked with white, looking like the shining tassels of a ribbon dancer. The long strands are braided and dreaded, pinned back with gold and silver trinkets.
Kaveh would love to excel in portrait pictures in that moment, to capture her face to the minute details. She seemed to encompass every lesson in life there is to learn and every memory there is to love.
“Your eyes are just the shade I remember,” she says, stepping away with reverence. “On behalf of us all, welcome back Your Majesty, Nabu Malikata, Goddess of Flowers. We have long awaited your return to us.”
As one, all four strangers kneel, heads bowed.
All facing Kaveh.
...What.
Kaveh's thoughts reel. Goddess of Flowers? Nabu Malikata? As in, the God who perished long ago that he's read about? King Deshret's lost and grieved beloved?
Is he passed out in the desert, having a fever dream? Or perhaps driven mad from hunger, thirst, and isolation, trapped inside that cavern? Did he eat one of those mushrooms Tighnari always warned him about??
What is going on?!
“Hold on, excuse me,” he begins, hands raised in placation. “I think there's been some sort of mistake. You see, I was just scouting some tunnels when I fell into a cavern? And then I fell, and uh, well, found a strange part of a ruin, and now I'm here...?”
They raise themselves back to their feet (thank Archons!) and the woman clasps her hands, nodding with a patient smile.
“Ah yes, you warned us before your passing that upon your return, you would likely not recall your own soul. But worry not, we have prepared something to help you recover some of your memory. In the meantime,” she turns to the tall man to her right, Hazem. “Tell everyone to prepare for a great feast tonight. Our Goddess has returned!”
Hazem nods, bows his head one last time to the architect, before leaving with the twinkle of swaying beads.
“I am Hestia,” the woman places her hand over her heart, “one of your longest and most loyal followers. Are you feeling well enough to walk, Your Majesty?”
Kaveh nods, though he's not actually sure to the answer. He fears he may stand and his bones turn to broth with how confused he feels.
“I am glad! Then, shall we walk? I will answer any questions you may have.”
At the promise of answers, Kaveh carefully rises to his feet, determined to make strides towards understanding what is happening. “That would be very helpful, thank you.”
With a gesture, he is led outside of the small hovel of a home, the round faced man waving cheerily as he goes. Tentatively, he waves back, before hurrying after Hestia.
"I'm sorry if we overwhelmed you, Your Majesty," Hestia begins. "Our excitement overcame our manners I'm afraid."
Kaveh shakes his head, the one earring he has left swinging. "It's uh, not exactly that, it's just... you guys very much have the wrong person." He follows behind her, gesturing feverishly with his hands. "You mentioned the Goddess of Flowers? I've read of her in books regarding Sumeru's history. But I'm very confused as to what that has to do with-"
Hestia stops upon the path that crests to a high point. Kaveh comes to a halt at her side, breath catching, eyes wide.
"...me," he breathes, train of thought scattered away in wonder at the sight stretched before him.
Hestia smiles, pleased.
Before them is a town. Tucked into a canyon amidst the sands, where ledges of rock taper down with the winding path. Buildings are arranged about in a neighborly pattern, with spaces between for makeshift roads worn with footprints. People walk to and fro, greeting one another in merriment. From his vantage point, Kaveh could just make out a man leading some type of goat along with rope, while two other ladies stood chatting happily as they exchanged goods. Further down, a woman in a beautiful violet and gold ensemble dances for a small crowd who watch on in enchantment. Many kids chase one another around in mischievous games of tag, giggling all the way.
Perhaps the most eye-catching feature rests in the northernmost back of the canyon. A waterfall pours over the lip of the inclined rocks, spraying down into a crystal blue oasis below. Around and on the mini island amidst the water stands tall fruit trees and other lush grasses. In fact, there is more greenery found about the town than Kaveh has ever witnessed in the desert or even in Aaru village. Flowers bloom in various pops of color, and cacti speckled with plump fruits stand tall and proud along the rock edges.
Red eyes sparkle in awe. It's a slice of paradise! The buildings are even so simple, but intricate. Everything has a place and a purpose.
And most importantly...
He spots a mother carrying a basin of water in one hand, the other clasped with her toddling son before gently coaxing him to the front door.
Every house is truly a home.
"What is this place?" Kaveh asks reverently.
"Our Goddess's last gift to her people before she passed to the Eternal Oasis," Hestia says. "She foresaw the cataclysm that was coming, foresaw her lover's greed reaching too deep, foresaw even her own demise in turn. So loving she was to us, her people, she created this place, Nabu Nirvana, for those of us who sought to survive the coming calamity and carry on her name."
Kaveh pivots, curious. "She created this place?"
Hestia nods. "Yes, indeed. It's a dimensional rift, a pocket of space where time moves at a different pace. We are safe here, and live well, awaiting our Goddess's return."
"But- can't... how...?" Kaveh stumbles verbally with the clutter of questions in his head. "If this was made before Nabu Malikata's death, then...you guys have been here for centuries! And how do you survive amongst just yourselves with no outward help? What happens if a drought were to occur? How do you maintain the population? Don't you run out of space for houses, then what?"
Hestia chuckles in amusement. "Goodness, you're a curious one, Your Majesty."
"A-and that!" Kaveh exclaims. "You guys keep calling me that, but I'm not...I.."
"Hmm." Hestia tilts her head, observing the fidgeting architect. "Allow me to answer your questions regarding the realm itself." She sweeps her arm slowly as she speaks. "Our Goddess created this realm so that all effort we put in, our intentions are fulfilled. If we plant gardens, they shall grow. If we breed livestock, they shall birth healthy and aplenty. If our numbers grow, so too does the size of our canyon. So long as we do our piece, her blessing will provide for us."
Kaveh takes this information in, eyes drifting to the full fruits, to the running water. But then his gaze turns to the tops of the rock and sand edges of the canyon, where a thick fog hangs. "What if you try to leave the canyon?" he wonders aloud, pointing to the thickets of clouds.
Hestia turns and sighs. "There have been a few who tried venturing away. Impatient ones who cast aside our purpose, claiming the Goddess would not return, and that she did not save us, but trapped us in an illusion of Eden." She shakes her head. "The fools made it three feet into the fog before popping right back out where they began, turned about. Came back to the village tails tucked in shame."
So you can't leave…
Kaveh bites his lip. He was transported here through some sort of ancient chant. Unless he finds another rock with a chant to take him back, he's not sure how he can leave, if simply walking out is not an option...
"When you were slipping in and out of consciousness, we asked for a name and you said Kaveh. Is that correct?"
Kaveh startles, turning back to the elder. "Yes, that's right. I'm an architect from Sumeru City."
"Then, Kaveh." Hestia says, and there's a weight beneath her gaze, "do you believe in reincarnation?"
Carmine eyes blink rapidly.
Reincarnation. Kaveh knows what it entails. He knows plenty of people in Sumeru do believe in the prospect of rebirth. For a person to pass away, their soul to be placed in a different body many years later. Some think it is merely humans, others believe it goes so far that you could end up a scarab beetle in your next life. The expanse of it is long, and the conditions of it argued over amongst scholars almost as much as it's argued to have evidence or not, and whether those studies can be considered legitimate.
But does he believe in it? It's a strange thought...the idea that he'll start over one day, or that he's already started over countless times...
Finally; "I don't know," he answers honestly.
He worries this answer may disappoint her, but Hestia merely smiles gently once again. "Perhaps you will soon," she says, before turning away from the cliff side and moving toward the downward path. "Come, Your Majesty. The town eagerly awaits your arrival. And we have much to do before tonight's celebration."
Kaveh opens his mouth to argue, tell her she still hasn't explained why they seem to think he's...
But he bites his tongue for now and follows after her to begin the winding path. He's curious to see the village up close, and perhaps there, he will get his answers.
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As the boasted Light of Kshahrewar, Kaveh has had his fair share of admirers and moments of celebrity-like status, though nothing too extreme that he cannot go about his day to day life as a civilian. He's used to eyes being on him, it's why he does his best to maintain his reputation so as not to disappoint those who would look to him for inspiration or guidance.
However, this is an altogether different height of status.
Hestia and Kaveh finally finished descending the long inclined, weaving path down into the canyon, and upon reaching the edge of the village, all eyes turned to him.
This is where he is now, frozen beneath the many gazes of strangers who gasp at the very sight of him. Some cover their mouths in shock, others cross their fist over their breast. He can even hear someone weeping.
Hestia steps forward, commanding attention as she raises a hand. "The rumor is true. One of the God-Kings, Nabu Malikata, has returned to us at last! Tonight, we celebrate, eat and drink!. Let us have a feast unlike ever before!"
Cheers erupt from the villagers who have crowded close, some scurrying off to complete their portion for the later celebration, while others draw in closer still towards the architect.
"They're as beautiful as mom said they'd be!" a young girl awes.
"Do you think he'll let me braid his hair?"
"At last, our Goddess! Oh how honored we are to receive you."
Kaveh backs away an inch, alarmed at the adoration and eagerness pressing further into him. Something aches in his chest.
I'm not your Goddess, he thinks, pleads. Don't look at me like that. Don't revere me so intensely, I'm just...I'm just-
"Now now, people, you'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with His Majesty at the feast," Hestia steps in, lightly redirecting them to several tasks and activities to be done before the night begins."
Like clockwork, they scatter away, still chittering in their joy.
Kaveh himself can only feel bittersweet. "Thank you, Hestia," he breathes, rubbing his forehead with closed eyes to stage off the pressure of tears. "Look, this is all really complicated, but I-"
"I know, Kaveh."
He jolts. "Huh? You do?" He shakes his head, arms up in defense. "Wait, what do you know?"
Hestia smiles at him, and for a moment he's reminded of warm soup.
"I know you don't believe yourself to be the true reincarnation of Nabu Malikata."
An exasperated noise. "If you know that, then why are you telling others that I am?" Kaveh implores. "Look, if I could be, I would love to be the reason for the smiles on those kids' faces. I'd give them every flower or fruit I could conjure that they ask for. I'd bless all of Sumeru to be as well provided for as this realm. I'd help the eremites with the border issues and inequality, I'd-," he exhales, his emotions thick in the throat. "I'd do and be much more than I have. But I haven't." He shakes his head, cursing the wetness that finally threatens to brim his eyes. "Because I'm not the soul of the Goddess."
Hestia remains silent, allowing the scholar a moment to collect himself.
"Walk with me, Kaveh," she says suddenly, and takes off, startling him into the motion.
A bit timidly, he follows, as their path seems to cut straight down the center of the town on the long middle path towards the waterfall.
"Kaveh," Hestia begins soft but stern. "Reincarnation is not, as we believe it, the simple transfer of a soul to a body after a period of resting time. It is a transition."
As they walk, a little boy runs up to the architect and smiles shyly, holding up a pretty flower. Kaveh smiles, charmed, and takes the gift with a gracious thanks and a ruffle on his head. The boy runs back to his sister, blushing and beaming.
Having stopped to do this, Kaveh shuffles to catch up with the Elder. She glances back at him, but says nothing of his detour.
Instead, she continues. "In transition, there is change. You cannot expect a flower to grow the same way in a different environment, can you?"
"I suppose not," he relents, when another child runs up to him, twins this time, and offers him flowers as well.
He laughs, light as a sunbeam. "Why, thank you as well!"
The kids return in much the same manner as the first, and Kaveh stands again, this time finding Hestia has waited for him. He smiles apologetically, but again she says nothing as they move on.
"There are also times when a soul may fragment, or lose a piece, or pieces, of itself when it is no longer necessary to their character. Similar to a snake shedding off dead skin. This can happen in the transition of the soul, midst its stay in the Eternal Oasis."
Kaveh listens intently, though ends up pausing the discussion a few more times as the kids of the city seem to have made a bravery game or competition out of handing him flowers. It's silly, perhaps, but the bundle of stems in his hands seems to help lighten the weight of the conversation, making it easier for him to continue on.
Finally, they reach the edge of the lake, where the water is just as crystalline as it looked from high above.
Hestia turns to him, clasping her hands steadily. "The Goddess as I remember her had an element of...beyondness to her. She seemed to encompass not just a God, but an ancient being that was otherworldly, and all the more reliable to worship for it. She was a beacon of light from far away that guided us through the dark."
Kaveh frowns, confused; this seems to only further his point in how unqualified he is.
"You, before me now though, are very...human," she smiles then, entirely too genuine and fond for Kaveh to take. "A kind soul, who leads not as a light far away, but as a helping hand right at one's side. With the timeframe you've returned to us in, I believe that you are exactly the kind of soul our people need."
Kaveh swallows, feeling as if he's physically digesting her words and finding it churning his stomach.
Hestia turns towards the waterfall with a sigh. "If you cannot take my words to heart, then I shall put it in a manner of facts."
Oh Archons. That sounded so much like what Alhaitham would say, it ached.
"The only way to enter this realm is by offering the blood of the Goddess's reincarnation, and reciting the poem on the seal. If you were not Nabu reborn, you'd have never been able to enter."
Kaveh frowns. "I read the poem, but I didn't offer any-" he stops, eyes wide.
That's right. His wounds.
Hestia clears her throat. "The Goddess had dominion not just of flowers, but of dreams as well. Did you have prophetic, strange, or vivid dreams throughout your life?"
Kaveh turns up his nose. "Hah. No, none! ....The Akasha has only just recently been terminated to allow humans to dream again."
The woman looks perplexed as to the lack of context, but not dissuaded. "Very well, what about animals? Have you had animals take a liking to you? Whether wild or tame, they seem drawn to you, no?"
"Well, I mean, that's just-"
"And lastly, so that we are not here all night," Hestia challenges. "You have a dendro vision."
He balks. "Thousands of people have Dendro visions! There's nothing telling about that!"
"What about when your elemental energy mixes with water or hydro energy? What then? Blooms happen, yes? Now tell me...whom do the blooms effect?"
Kaveh pales, his expression a dead giveaway.
She pierces him with her stare. "I'd bet the last canister of water that they explode, harming anyone within the vicinity...except you. In fact, I'd even bet they replenish your strength. You've never thought that strange?"
He shakes his head, eyes down towards his trembling fingers "I..."
Two smaller but warmer hands wrap around his, lifting his gaze to a twin twinkle of gray-green. "It's been a long day for you. And it is a lot to take in. How about we focus on enjoying food and drink tonight, and you can take time within the next few days to think on it all?"
Kaveh bites his lip, unsure. Part of him wants to figure out all the answers now. To crunch on the textures of this life changing possibility until it tastes right or wrong or whichever way leads him to where he should be. There's also the piece of him that wants to bury his head in the sand, and wake up back at home with the annoying nagging of his roommate to accompany his pounding headache from a late night sleep.
But he looks from Hestia, down to the steadying grip on his hands and finds himself growing a bit braver.
He can do this. He can face this.
So he nods.
Hestia smiles. "Excellent. Now, Your Majesty, let us get you to the tailor."
His rampant self-talk screeches to a halt.
"...the what?"
*
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Kaveh has learned over his busy years of life, that sometimes, one can actually feel more security in a room of strangers than around people you know. This has to do with the anonymity and-
The architect once again imagines flicking a tiny roommate off his shoulder.
Geez, it's like my own mind is compensating for his absence by giving myself lectures! Argh!
"Stay still, Your Majesty!" the tailor chirps, and he turns into a statue on the spot.
The sweet lady, Fatima, had taken his measurements and given him a variety of fabrics and colors to choose from for her to begin constructing a wardrobe for him.
Before he could thank her and leave though, she insisted he stay to try on some pieces she's had lying in wait for Nabu's return, so that he may try them on for her to adjust to fit him.
"I didn't know what kind of body you'd be coming back in, Your Majesty, but I had so many ideas, I just couldn't wait!"
Admiring her passion for her art, he'd agreed.
Thus came his brain's lecture of anonymity, for if anyone from the Akademiya saw him in these, he'd surely faint.
He's never considered what people from the desert wear to be scandalous. One of his dear friends walks around near shirtless most of the time even. But seeing it on others and wearing it himself turns out to be two very different things. He's unused to feeling his sides exposed, or his belly shown in a window between the fabric. More so perhaps is the glide of the high slits of the skirts or the cropping of the shorts, revealing the entire length of his pale legs. And while many in the village seem content to carry on barefoot, his feet are not calloused enough to take on the grit and heat of sand, and so he requires shoes because of it.
"Your beauty was not exaggerated, Your Majesty," Fatima says, sliding a golden armband up to rest at his bicep.
Unsure of himself, he's given her mostly free reign so far, and after deciding that the crimson and gold outfit would be most suitable for the festivities that evening, she has moved on to accessorizing.
"Ah," he smiles shyly. "Thank you." While he's never thought himself ugly, he's felt out of sorts since his arrival, unsure in his own skin. It's nice to hear he doesn't appear that way on the outside at least.
Some polish is put on his nails, followed by a set of rings once they've dried. When she reaches for the remaining few red clips in his hair, he flinches. "U-uh, may I have those? I'd rather they not be thrown away."
Fatima beams kindly. "Of course, Your Majesty. I'll just put them right here for you, okay?" she reassures, pulling them free of his tresses and setting them on a small shelf next to the mirror. His hair falls around him, a stream of gold that to him, looks messy and unkempt without his braid and pins.
He stares unfocused into the mirror at his reflection, at the very least glad that the dirt and grime from the cave had been washed off him. But perhaps smudges of dust would have done him better in making him look less like his mother. It's one of the reasons he doesn't wear his hair down, overcome with memories of her fading light in the dimness of grief.
Her hair dry like straw. The gray tint to her pale skin, even her veins looked less like blue river maps and more like purple splotches on her chaffed, neglected skin. Her eyes a worn stone a miner would kick to the side, unlike the trishirite that they once shone as. She worked hard to keep them afloat, to hide the worst of it from her son, but it was impossible to miss. Still, he'd always admire her strength.
When she decided to move away, he'd played the martyr, telling her he didn't mind, and wished her the best. In truth, his heart had been heavy, left alone in a house empty of all the warmth it once carried. He'd thrown himself into his work, and came to drown in the very thing he built.
And when she sent word of her remarriage, and he saw the light return to her, he guiltily thought; "why wasn't I enough?"
Presently, he doesn't think so much that way, yet in the face of all this praise, his insecurities return to haunt him, no matter how deeply buried.
How could someone like him possibly be the reincarnation of a God-King? An architect swarmed in debt, a child who couldn't be what his mother needed, a fool who lost his best friend but now lives with him in constant conflict...
He's... he's not some divine being. He's flawed to his core.
Difficult to love.
There's no way he can be what these people need-
"Done! Now just onto make-up!"
Kaveh resurfaces from the depths of his thoughts, stunned to find the reflection before him has changed again while he was lost in thought. His hair is meticulously braided and twined into an elegant bun, with red flowers weaved between.
Fatima circles him, smiling as she sorts a few brushes, some eye paint, and a stick of coal. "Please close your eyes, your majesty."
Kaveh does.
-and if the rims of his eyes are wet as she begins, only he'll know it's not from the make-up.
*
*
*
The sun is beyond the canyon top, but the sky wastes no effort in making sure the streaks of scarlet and violet still reach across the sky.
Kaveh's gaze is taken by it, stroking across the colors like his very eyes are paint brushes.
It's strange to think nothing lies beyond the horizon, that the entire city is in a pocket of space and time, self-sustaining through hard work and touches of magic. It's like he's been plucked from reality and fell into another world, like those popular novels from the Yae Publishing House in Inazuma.
"Your Majesty, the festivities are about to begin," Hestia speaks up from where she strides alongside him.
After they'd finished decorating him, Hestia had led him back up to the house at the top of the path where he'd first woken. He learned that the quaint home belonged to none other than Hestia herself, stationed there as a responsibility not only to oversee the village, but also to be near the cave of runes where their Goddess would one day return.
"Before we return and join the celebration, do you recall me mentioning a method to aid you with your memory loss?"
"Ah, yes. I do recall," Kaveh says. Though in truth, he has only a vague recollection of the mention, having been too swarmed by other more pressing thoughts.
Hestia smiles with a nod, turning from the small kitchen counter made of hardened clay to him, holding a goblet of gold with an encrusted red jewel. Compared to the humble abode around them, the cup seems wildly out of place. "Drink this, Your Majesty."
Kaveh glances from her eager expression to the drink and back, hesitant. "What is it?"
"It is my life's duty," she declares. "For your return, I have long awaited to give you this. It's been passed down my family for generations, and now, it is my honor to be the one to give it to you."
That didn't answer my question, Kaveh thinks, but the weight of her words tighten his throat.
Slowly, he reaches forward, the goblet not unlike the jewelry adorning his wrists and fingers as they both glint back at him in mockery of wealth and status. He tries to hide the tremble of his hands as he takes the cup from her steady palms.
"What will happen if I drink it?" he asks, and wonders if he's being silly. Perhaps this is simply an aged alcohol refined for the Goddess's return, or a traditional tea before the celebrations.
Hestia clasps her hands behind her, pleased. "I cannot say exactly, for even my family was not told. But I can assure you it will clear any doubts you may still have of being our Goddess reincarnate."
Kaveh looks down into the sloshing liquid, unable to see his reflection in the deep magenta depths of it.
Perhaps this is the key to proving they have the wrong person. That he's simply all he appears to be, and nothing more.
....but what if -?
No, surely. Even the given reasons of why they think him their God-King is not enough evidence.
Be whatever it may, Hestia stares, imploring in an innocent way on her aged face, and he cannot deny her, nor his curiosity.
So he drinks.
At first, he simply tastes a new flavor on his tongue and feels the cold of the swallow.
But before he can even register if it is to his liking, a warping sensation hits. A dizziness not unlike the desert heat blurs his vision, until he catches a quick breath and his surroundings clear.
Only he no longer sees Hestia before him, nor her humble home.
Instead, he stands on a still water lake. A paradise is all around him, a capture of perfection as birds are mid-flight in air, fish are still within unmoving ripples of water. The flowers and flora bloom a healthy green amidst the warm set sun on the horizon.
Kaveh spins, wide eyed and breath caught.
It's like I've jumped into a painting!
"Beautiful, is it not?"
Startled from his enrapturement, Kaveh turns towards his interrupter with a light yelp.
He steps back, surprise locking his limbs stiff. "You're-!"
Nabu Malikata simpers, her arms crossing delicately. "So this is how I've become with new life."
Kaveh gapes, shameless in his shock.
Nabu Malikata, the Goddess of Flowers, is someone he's read about in the pages of history, and on the walls of ruins. She's described to have been beautiful beyond compare, pale despite the sun reigning over the desert, and with flowers woven within her hair. Stories tell of her voice echoing in the dreams of her people, how nature bowed to her, flowers cropping up beneath her feet even in the most wretched of soil and sands. Accounts say there was something otherworldly about her that commanded respect.
Seeing her before him with his own eyes, he can validate each and every poem and song written in her honor. Though perhaps even the most talented of word-weavers could not do her justice.
"Is it so surprising to see me?" she says, her voice featherlight, yet rich in tone. "I'm but a reflection of you in a different time, in a different body."
"That's-"
Impossible, Kaveh wants to say, but there's a swelling in his ribcage, a knitting happening beneath his skin as images of a life long past ripple on the surface of his memories.
Nabu walks forward, her bare feet barely disturbing the paralyzed lake. "Let me see."
Without hesitation, she steps within his space and presses her forehead to his.
A flash of dizziness, a clamp on his heart, Kaveh cries out and falls to his knees.
"What-"
The Goddess puts a hand to her chest, blinking. "Goodness. Our life has been rife with troubles, hasn't it? However," she kneels gracefully beside Kaveh, a smile enhancing her beauty. With a wave of her hand towards the water, it ripples for a moment, before images replace the reflection below them. "To think, he would find us again."
Kaveh is about to ask her what she did, what she's talking about, when he sees the conjured picture before them.
It's Alhaitham. Or, it is sometimes. The images cycle through variations of the scribe he knows, the one he is familiar with, black and teal and surrounded by books. Others are different from what he knows him to be, tan, with adornments of gold, a crown, hair shaven on one side with a braid draped down the other.
King Deshret.
Kaveh shakes his head.
No. No way. It can't be.
"I see he's as hungry for knowledge as ever," Nabu chuckles, her tone overwhelmingly fond. "And as stubborn. Yet..."
Her hand reaches out, fingers delicately skating across the pictures. "In this life, he is... different."
The Goddess looks up from the lake to Kaveh with a bittersweet smile. "In my lifetime, he was willing to destroy the world to reach what he sought, the forbidden knowledge. And I loved him too much to try and stop his desires."
The architect purses his lips. He only knows hearsay of what became of the King, that which is told in history books and Eremite tales. To hear it straight from the source is an intriguing circumstance.
"But in this life, he willingly reshapes everything to keep us." Nabu sighs, eyes closing in thought. "Oh Deshret, in your last moments, was your regret so consuming that it carried through your rebirth?"
Kaveh sucks in a sharp breath.
"You- you're mistaken! Alhaitham hates us. Well, perhaps not hate, but he simply tolerates us - me. We fight all the time!"
He shakes his head again, confused.
Us? Where'd that come from?.
There's many questions and comments pooling in his head. There's so much he wants to say in fact, that it clogs in his throat.
Nabu laughs. It twinkles like a wind chime. "I had no idea that I could become so oblivious. It's truly strange to witness." Her laugh tapers off with a sigh, gaze falling to the flickering images. "Alas, it is almost unfortunate that his soul found mine again, and is so readily devoted. It makes it all the more a shame we shall never see him again."
A heartbeat.
"...what?"
The Goddess flicks the water and the images fade. Her eyes raise, piercing like a fairy tale blood moon. "You did not think we would return to our old life, did you?"
The heartbeat stops and falls to his stomach. "But..."
We have so much to build, so much we want to give to the world still. We have friends to return to, a home waiting-
"What a fool I've become," Nabu clips, and the sudden change in tone, from wind chimes to falling icicles makes him flinch. "Why would we return to a world that doesn't appreciate us?"
Kaveh opens his mouth, but she cuts him off, grabbing his face with both hands and bringing him close. Her thumbs soothe and cradle his jaw while her words sting.
"Who will miss us anyway? Our mother has started a new life without us, our friends have their own lives to tend to. Even Deshret, Alhaitham- his love- it cannot sustain our happiness. Not like we can here."
The sting of her words turn into a knife, twisting and twisting as she lays every buried insecurity and fear and hurt bare and raw before them.
"But-"
"Why receive so little when we give so much? Kaveh," she exhales his name like a prayer, a plea. "Here, we are honored. We are loved. Money is no matter, only the harmony of existing with people who understand and appreciate us. I have prepared for us a paradise, why would we turn it away?"
Abruptly, she releases him and steps back, leaving him sinking to his knees on the crystalline ground.
"Years ago, I foresaw the coming ruin that the forbidden knowledge would unleash," she begins. "I knew Deshret, despite my warnings, would dig too deep. So I took action." Vacantly, Nabu pulls a flower from her hair and twirls it. "I handpicked from my followers those who held me in highest honor, with enough variation of age and sex so that an isolated community could continue to thrive. I created this pocket dimension to place them in, to protect them from the coming storm."
With every action she retells, she plucks a petal off the stem, letting it fall wayward to the ground.
"I placed a fragment of my soul into a single, undying flower, and bestowed it to the elder for safekeeping. Then finally," she rips the empty bud clean off the stem. "I orchestrated my death."
Kaveh looks up at her, expression distraught. "...what?"
Her eyes cut to him. "... you're angry. Why?"
Shakily, he gets to his feet. "You... orchestrated your own death?"
"Yes."
"But, why?" his voice shakes. "Your people needed you, they loved you, and mourned for us- you, and," Kaveh puts a hand to his forehead. "Our husband, he went mad in his grief."
"It is exactly for those reasons." She looks to the center of the lake, where a small island and three chairs are gathered. "Look at this place! It's beautiful, is it not?" she spins, eyes sparkling. "This place was born out of love for me in my passing. And Deshret? To think he lost himself so without me."
She stops mid-twirl and turns back to Kaveh with another smile.
This smile...he doesn't find beautiful.
"A death so drenched in loss, no one could forget me. Isn't that beauti-"
"It's not!" Kaveh shouts. His hands have curled to fists, as a rage bubbles inside. "It's selfish! How could you?! Leaving your people, your lover, everyone who cared for you to grieve, just so you could feel validated that they adored you?! It sickens me!"
Nabu is silent.
Before she breaks him in a single breath.
"Have you forgotten? You and I are the same."
Kaveh freezes. "N-no. That's not true."
She steps closer. "You don't see it? We're the same soul. We may have different bodies, and different experiences, but in the end, you'd have done the same as me. We are the same."
"No, that's not true! I'd never-"
"Never what?" She leans closer. "Self destruct and cause pain for others around you? But you've done so throughout this life, too."
Kaveh doesn't move, her words seeping into his brain like a poison, as memory after memory assaults him.
Weeping in his mother's arms when she too was heavy with grief. Drinking himself into a stupor until someone has to take care of him. Throwing himself into a palace that cost him everything. Passing out from lack of sleep and food when he's rushing to meet a deadline.
Tighnari's concerned lectures. Cyno's pursed lips. Collei's worried eyes. Lambad's sighs.
Alhaitham's...
Alhaitham's everything.
Housing him, picking him up from the bar, scolding him, researching Sachin, distracting him with stupid arguments, letting him redecorate, bringing home soup...
Kaveh covers his mouth.
Oh no…
No no. He...all this time, he's caused everyone problems, hasn't he?
And Alhaitham, why did he...?
Why did he keep his tongue so sharp, but his actions so soft? Kaveh didn't realize, he hadn't noticed the bulk of it all, unable to see anything beyond the cut of his words.
It doesn't make sense.
"It's who we are," Nabu whispers between them. "We're fragile, but not like glass. We're fragile like a bomb."
Softly, her hand reaches out to him and brushes his bangs from his face. "None of that matters now, though. Come, Kaveh." Nabu rises, hand held out to his kneeling form.
The sun halos her head, and she stands before him like every star he's ever wished upon. "Let us live in a paradise of our people!"
With wet eyes and a dry throat, he swallows heavily, before gently reaching back.
*
*
*