COMPLETED Remembrance of Self | Fantasy | LGBTQ

Epilogue - Part 3

"Would you stop that already!" Volo whispers aggressively at me as I continue to scratch all over. The rash and discoloration of my pale blue skin has now spread to more than half of my body.

"I can't help it!" I snare back. I pull away all four of my hands and duck back behind some bushes of honeyleaves. The grandiose dark green leaves with flowers of cream absorb the ambient energy around making them glow a gentle yellow. I have seen these bushes all over the city. Volo tells me they are preferred by highbloods for pure aesthetics, disregarding completely the toxicity of their flowers. I reach for one of the flowers and scrape the polen into a small piece of paper and tuck it in one of my under pockets of my robe. I look at the night, lit by a blanket of stars, I imagine that Mira is looking at the same sky as I am, it gives me a sense of comfort. Wait for me, my love. The three Great Mothers have taken their throne on the night sky, in a beautiful display of colors, Red, Green, and Blue. Watching over me, I pray to them as well as the Great Father to give me strength and forgiveness in the unheard of blasphemy Volo and I are about to commit.

"Get ready, brother." Volo says and grabs my lower arm in comfort. He sees how anxious I am and I can tell he feels the same. While we were discussing and preparing our strike at his home, we each had our doubts and qualms, but our rage burned like fiery inferno. The higbloods have broken our trust, and went against the tradition and words of the Great Father. They had sent an envoy too soon. The Great Father had spared Mira for a reason, and yet, they did not listen. It is time I tell myself. It is time they pay for their sins and I take back my wife. I steady my nerves and put on a strong face, even though on the inside I am terrified.

"They don't have many guards, Volo. This doesn't look good." I whisper.

"Of course not. When have you heard of a lowblood going against highbloods, brother?" Volo asks.

"Nev -" I don't even have a chance to finish my thought and Volo interrupts me.

"Never. No envoy has chosen out of date. Everything has been just as the Great Father ordered for entire milenia, countless cycles. If this was a normal envoy, I would have rejoiced for Mira, just I was with our own choosing. The words of the Great Father keep everything in check, a balance, cherished by both high and lowbloods. The rumors about Isay'ah must be true. He's has lost his sanity for breaching the sacred trust. This can't be forgiven."

"Then why have guards at all?" I ask confused. I look at the man dressed in beautifully decorated armor, flowers and details inlaid carefully in the metal.

"Are you this blind, brother?" Volo scoffs then shakes his head. "I apologize, you have not seen the true nature of the highbloods, you have not lived in one of their cities before. You just got your letter of recognition. For merchants like me, we get to witness the atrocities that highbloods commit on the daily. Listen carefully, we don't have much time. Champions are those that hold great power among the low bloods to rival their own, they send you to fight among yourselves, to prove your loyalty, to weed out the powerful, while the victors, they are given what they think is the opportunity of their lifetime. Sure, there's better food, but what they don't tell you, brother, is that they castrate the Champions and give them measly jobs like guards to wither away into docile creatures, just like they do with those disgusting evil creatures the unforgiven, given to the Humh'ine as slaves, to rot away to atone for their sins. We are nothing, to them, just like the unforgiven to the Humh'ine. And then the Merchants are those pale skinned that are not powerful enough to become a threat and not beautiful enough to become Yeva'Ah."

"No, it can't be, Volo. This was our chance, for Mira and I to live a better life." I shake my head and look at the man in armor before me. I wonder if he too was castrated, if his power wilted away in this masquerade of a duty.