It was the Iksana Ultimate Bloodline tattoo Clarity. The ability to gain a limited prescience, glimpsing the immediate future of the area around the caster. But it operated so unlike anything Vir ever imagined.
He’d hoped that witnessing the Ultimates might give him an edge when he obtained them. Cirayus said it took decades, if not centuries, to truly master, though Vir was optimistic he could shorten that by leveraging his prior incarnations, even if his command wouldn’t be as strong.
After seeing Clarity in action, Vir began to wonder if it truly might take as long as he’d feared. There were no simple abilities. Not even close.
Ekanai landed again, and this time, he was truly alone in the field of corpses. The demon took a single, deep breath, and soldiered on. Deeper into the Ash.
Through it all, Ekanai felt no glee at having destroyed his enemies. He felt no pride. All that came through was his growing worry that he still didn’t know what the gods wanted of him. He didn’t know how the power at the heart of Mahādi was supposed to help him fulfill his destiny. Nor even how to go about obtaining that power, assuming he survived the Mahādi plane.
The demon clutched his chest, heaving. While Vir couldn’t feel Ekanai’s pain, it was obvious just how much misery the demon was in.
But he hasn’t taken any injuries. Why’s he in pain—? Vir suddenly understood. Prana Poisoning.
Ekanai appeared to be in a deep area of the Ash, and the prana density was obviously affecting him.
He’s going to die if he continues like this. Why? What’s driving him? Why does he sacrifice himself?
The scene darkened and shifted. Perhaps with this next memory, Vir would understand. Perhaps he’d uncover the darkness that Ekanai had hidden all along.
The scene cleared. Ekanai had arrived at Mahādi.
83
THE REAPER’S WISH (PART THREE)
Atorrent of emotions assaulted Vir as his predecessor stepped through the Ash Gate into the City of the Gods. Emotions that stemmed as much from Ekanai as from himself.
From Ekanai, there was the elation one can only feel after having finally taken the last step of a decades-long journey, along with the relief—and regret—which accompanies it. He felt longing for the Demon Realm, a faint sliver of hope that, when this was all over, he might be able to return home. And a sadness that his journey might soon be at an end.
Vir’s own emotions took a different turn. The black spires of Mahādi served to remind him of Ashani and his bitter failure. He thought of her cloistered within Janak’s home, hibernating her life away. Did she hold out hope that Vir would come back for her?
How could she? Vir thought. She knew exactly how unlikely that proposition was.
And yet, Vir would find a way. He’d named Shan to remind him of that promise. Of the great debt he owed her. It was why Vir was so gutted that Saunak hadn’t proven entirely trustworthy. If only he had, they might’ve worked together to devise a way back. To allow her to escape that horrible place.
Ekanai took a step. His knees immediately buckled. Vir knew exactly what he was going through, even though the memory suppressed the pain the demon felt.
Prana Poisoning was one of the worst ways to go. Vir could almost feel the prana overloading Ekanai’s blood.
And yet, despite the pain, Ekanai soldiered on. He never once considered retreating through the Ash Gate. If he did, he’d be forever doomed to wander aimlessly upon the realms. Only by progressing could he fulfill his purpose. Or find his purpose, Vir realized.
It’s not blind zeal that drives him. It’s… a desire for his life to have had meaning.
Vir understood then, in that moment, that through Ekanai’s entire life, it was this desire to uncover his purpose that drove him. A desire that was painfully relatable.
It wasn’t glory or fame or riches. Ekanai cared nothing for his titles. He’d never exploited his status as the Akh Nara, unlike some who’d preceded him.
No, Ekanai cared about one thing and one thing only—that, when his time in the realms was over, he’d have found his calling.
The demon fought off Ash Wolves and Phantomblades, squashing dozens at once with Balancer of Scales. With Clarity and Yuma’s Embrace, it wasn’t even a contest. Ekanai would not be harmed. Not by beasts, anyway. The demon fell to his knees. A Blader skewered his chest from behind. Ekanai saw it coming, and allowed it to pierce him. Healing injuries wasn’t difficult. Stopping prana poisoning was.
Why, though? Surely he knew this would happen? Vir wondered, before the truth dawned upon him.
None of the others ever made it this far…
Ekanai had been the first to venture into the Mahādi Realm. Which meant Vir’s feat—entering, and surviving—had been far beyond anything they’d managed. He’d relied on them. On their hard-won experiences to survive. Even then, it was only thanks to Ashani’s pranites and the collective effort of Ekanai, Shardul, Parai, Jalendra, and Narak that allowed him to survive.
The realization hit Vir like a raging Garga. Whether or not he despised Ekanai, Vir benefited directly from his life experience.
Ekanai struggled to stay conscious, but against the sheer prana density, his sight dimmed, and he collapsed.
As the demon’s vision went dark one final time, just before the Ash Beasts tore into him, what he felt was not anger, or frustration, or even regret.
It was a profound, bottomless loneliness, and a sincere, earnest wish to be held by someone in his final moments. To be consoled… and loved.
The memory faded, leaving Vir alone in a strange space he’d never seen before. He sat cross-legged in a green grassy meadow in the middle of a forest.
Another of Ekanai’s memories? But no, it wasn’t.
Vir recognized it immediately—it was the Godshollow.
He was alone, though he knew he was still in his mind. The world possessed a hazy, dreamlike quality. He felt comforted by the Godshollow’s sturdy presence.
Birds chirped merrily, and a gentle breeze ruffled the ferns and shrubs that blanketed the forest floor. Light filtered through an opening in the canopy, its rays playing upon the untouched dirt.
This… is my mindscape? No way!
Vir’s excitement soared at the thought. Cirayus had mentioned that upon fully opening the Foundation Chakra, Vir would gain access to a mindscape—a personal sanctuary where one could meditate. A place where hours or sometimes even days could pass with only moments passing in the real world.
It was primarily useful for meditation, contemplation, and, upon opening the later chakras, even training. Each chakra expanded the mindscape, allowing for increasingly complex scenarios.
Vir stood up and walked to the edge of the meadow. As he neared the ancient trunks, he felt a pressure push back on him, preventing him from venturing into the ‘forest,’ which he intuitively understood wasn’t actually there. This was all an illusion, and his mindscape couldn’t support anymore.
That was all well. Vir gazed up at the enormous trees, wondering in amazement. How much had he yearned for this breakthrough these past months?
It occurred to him now that he might’ve had an easier time opening the Foundation Chakra if he’d used the Godshollow as the basis for stability instead of the mountains as Cirayus taught him. It was much closer and more real to him than any peak had ever been. That the mindscape took the form of the Godshollow only proved it.
Was this how Cirayus maintained his sanity? Was he escaping into a mindscape of his own, similar to how I fled into the Shadow Realm?