Husk

“Oh, you’re back early. Is everything alright, Natasia?” The old elf called from his chair in the drawing room. A squeak came as an elf sat across from him, “Natasia? You know-”   “I’m afraid not, old friend,” The second elf removed earbuds, rubbing at their ears and staring at their elder in front of them.   The elder jumped in his chair, “What? I. That accent. I didn’t think I’d hear it again, not since the southern forests burned. You can’t be younger than 200, which means….”   The younger sat quietly, waiting for their elder to put together the pieces.   “Horizon. You’re Deathdealer Horizon.”   “Naturally, Black God. You really can’t see a thing anymore, can you.”   Black God straightened in their chair, lunging for a gnarled staff to his left-   “Wait,” Horizon sighed.   Black God paused, fingertips brushing against the well worn rowan.   “I’m not so stupid to have come alone. There’s a squad of deathdealers outside. It’s over. You might be able to kill me, but you can’t get them all. Die as an elf, not like one of the other animals screaming against fate to try to add scant months to their petty existence. It’s unseemly, and after all you’ve done for us, you don’t deserve the disrespect of an ignominious death.”   Black God slumped back in his chair, mumbling with hand over his mouth.   Slightly irritated, Horizon, “Please don’t cover your mouth.”   “Wh-oh. I wondered how you ran that thing without batteries.”   Both smirked, Horizon continued, “The moonsickness affects us all differently.”   “Yes, seeping into the bones. I can still feel some, I can hear as well as ever, but it’s been years since I’ve tasted the juice of a berry, smelled the fall breeze, watched the dance of a bee.”   “Why do it to yourself then? Fear of the end?”   “The same reason all creatures do, I suppose. I don’t get a second chance, and I want to make this one count.”   Horizon sighs again, but sympathetically, “You’ve made this one count. Our people will not forget you: Black God, the greatest mage of his time, Lord of Shadows, the Terror of Andromica, Spurner of Stars. The humans remember you, quaking at night under the new moon in fear of your darkness. The blood rites of a single orc tribe will never match the sea of red you drew from their people during the wars of your youth. Hell, even the dwarves know your name, I’ve seen your mark used as a warning in the deeps. Plus, I can see the growth on your chest there, Black God. You’re not going to live much longer anyways, with or without me.”   Black God sat, listened to this, tears rolling down his face, “I kept a garden in the wilds once. It turned into a golem and ate my gardeners, but I kept it still, pruning from afar with fire. I imagine a hunter’s killed it by now, harvested its magic for some war or another. I wrote poetry, I sang. You and I are the only ones that will remember anything but my bloodshed. There’s nothing permanent in magnificence, someone greater always comes one day, or nothing comes, and everyone just leaves and forgets. You should know, you’re whole people ground under the heel of the Twilight Emperor, do they even teach of you anymore, I wonder? I suppose there’s a benefit to you in this for that though. A vengeance only we know.”   “I’m not here for revenge, Black God. The burning might have been through you, but it was not of you. And who would I be to nurse a grudge for centuries? Just a hypocrite, working for the Empire that destroyed my people. No, we died, and now the Empire still continues.”   Black God snorted, “Empire? Don’t make me laugh. The Empire had fallen in all but name long before even my birth. Like everything else, it’s just a hollow shell, a husk of its past glory. The spirit is draining from the world and has been for so long, and here we all are, clutching for some last pearl of that past grandiosity. No, kill me, but don’t lie to me that it’s about Empire, or sending a message, or legacy. It’s just you, doing what you’ve always done, the only thing you know how to do, hoping that in the end it will take on some poetic meaning.”   Horizon stood, unfolding a humming sword, “Very well. It was a pleasure talking with you, Black God. I’ll miss you.”   “Likewise. Not how I thought the end would come, but I suppose it will do.”   Horizon stepped forward, putting the sword point to Black God’s chest. Black God closed his milky eyes. “Black God. I grant you peace, at long last. Sleep well, and I will remember you.”   The sword pushed through Black God’s body and out the back of the chair without hesitance in a single thrust, his eyelids opening with a gasp. Pulling the blade out with a snap, Horizon slashed sideways, sending Black God’s head tumbling into his lap.   “Tch. He really was past his time,” Horizon popped the earbuds back in, then flicked his blade clean. As the blade folded back up, Horizon reached down to pick up their bounty’s head, “A hundred years ago he’d have checked my mind and seen there’s no one else outside.”