The Beginning of Hero’s Path
Prologue
Rainbows of flowers and mushrooms illumined the interior of Truth Forest. The dark moon granted a clear view of the constellations in the heavens. A pulse from the center of the woods made the ground shake, and the trees spoke about fate as they sensed two humans approaching.
Teacher entered through the blue outlined North door, closing it behind him with a soft click. The cool breeze and the scent of pungent flowers calmed him. He carefully stepped over stalks of purple mushrooms and gnarling thick roots. Teacher wore a dark cloak, yet its properties of camouflage were rendered useless by the light of the flora. His mane of tangled brown hair flowed behind his expression of worried wisdom as he hurried to the center.
Darkness opened the polished emerald South door, slamming it behind him. He walked briskly over the brambles and jumped over luminous orange mushrooms, not taking care to hide his presence. Wearing a bloodshot smile under his bright red cloak, his sword hung off his back, ready to be unsheathed. He rushed to the center, swiveling, and scanning the forest.
The seasonal clash between these two men echoed into the hourglasses of time. Over the course of each of their lives, Teacher and Darkness were chosen to be champions of two gods at war with each other. As champions of the two warring gods from a hidden universe, they became the vessels of the gods’ wills on Earth, and were given celestial codes to build temples, medicines, and weapons. Darkness and Teacher collected enough strength and knowledge to evade death for hundreds of years; and have survived dozens of legendary Darkness-Teacher duels. Tonight, Darkness was tasked to destroy the Seed of Birth, and Teacher to retrieve it.
Teacher and Darkness emerged from the North and South edges of the clearing at the center of Truth Forest. The colossal Tree of Birth stood rooted beneath stars and nebulas. Its blossoming leaves rustled with the wind, and its massive trunk became transparent at every pulse of the tree’s golden heart. Connected to the front of the tree by roots was an oval-shaped extension of the tree: the Nest holding the Seed.
“My friend, I see you’ve made it,” said Darkness smiling and bowing.
“How many humans did you cut through to get here?” enquired Teacher.
“None, I just furnished their hearts with gold,” Darkness laughed.
“It was a difficult path. Good thing we were given celestial instruction,” noted Teacher, placing his hand on his hilt.
The forest’s leaves rippled in the breeze. The pulsing ground shook. According to the messages sent by the gods, the Seed was cocooned in the Tree of Birth’s Nest. They unsheathed their swords.
“I am here to destroy the seed. When I destroy it, a number of tree species that support humanity will die. The trees will not be revived for many eons until a new seed is born. The resulting hunger will cause all humans to suffer. Society will become a disaster of murderous wild animals, and thus the structure of knowledge will be burned down by the fires of hunger and greed. Kingdoms, buildings, and libraries will turn to ash. With knowledge forgotten, we can finally go back to the true freedoms of killing and sex free of judgement” Darkness stated.
“You speak of the darkest measure of anarchy. Knowledge has become a pillar of support for the happiness of humanity. No one desires to wind the clock back to the Dark Days, except for you and your god’s lust for pleasure and destruction,” Teacher stated.
“I desire the order of classical survival. All this philosophy and technology emerging in the empires and cities of the world makes my head hurt, and laws prevent me from killing and doing the other things that give me joy and pleasure. Humans were not created to think. Why do you think living the life of a scholar is so painful? It is unnatural. The scholars, the students of the gods, waste their time working on deeds they think they will be remembered for, and forget to enjoy their families. Knowledge is a useless construct, built to distract us from the pleasures the gods put on this Earth. The destruction of the seed will ensure humanity’s return to simple pleasure,” Darkness said and bent his knees to Teacher’s perception.
The flowers and mushrooms grew brighter.
“Your styles of pleasure and entertainment do not morally justify returning to the primitive darkness of the past. To do this, you wish to erase humanity’s heroic journey of knowledge collection. Intelligence, knowledge, and the stewardship of the Earth’s resources must prevail. You are a self-absorbed unconscious animal!” Teacher thundered.
“I am conscious! I want to stop operating in reality at such a high price! I want the system of life in the world to return to the simplicity of its primal design!” Darkness shouted.
Darkness became a red lightning bolt. Teacher dug his heels into the ground, preparing for impact. Darkness composed himself midair and stabbed at Teacher’s heart. Teacher parried and their swords clanged, echoing across the forest. The trees, flowers, and mushrooms continued their symphony of light as the men exchanged a radius of twenty blade swings, bathing the forest with metallic sparks.
Darkness leapt back breathless, pulled a shining purple jewel from his waist and launched it at the ground. It exploded and purple shards zoomed at Teacher’s face. The shards slashed his nose, cheeks, and forehead. Teacher grimaced in pain, and his blood splattered nearby lilies. His eyes were spared. Teacher zig- zagged at Darkness, feigned a stomach jab, turned upwards and stabbed the space of his neck. Going straight for Darkness’s head was too predictable, and Darkness blocked with ease. Teacher stepped back, and using his sword’s glowing blue power, he shot three consecutive spheres of blue energy at Darkness’s right eye. Darkness countered, slicing the spheres into tiny pieces. Darkness’s sword began to glow emerald. A snake of water erupted from the ground and slithered at Teacher with celestial velocity. At the last moment it turned to ice, shattering against Teacher’s swing, creating iridium refractions of light. Teacher used the mirage of the exploding ice to create a spear of sky-blue energy. The spear spiraled through the cloud of shattered ice, but Darkness dropped to the ground swiftly. He rose and their swords danced in a revitalized flurry of metal and sparks. Darkness was faster, but Teacher was more precise. None gained ground over the other. Sweat beaded down their foreheads and their fiery eyes met. The trees observed with ancient wonder.
Teacher began to orient himself towards the tree, preparing to carve open the nest and grasp the seed. On the way to the Tree of Birth, Darkness had identified and plucked a poisonous flower from the plants of Truth Forest. Darkness floated needles of paralyzing poison at Teacher’s exposed knee. Teacher had no time to assemble a shield, and gave a shout of pain as he realized his defeat. Teacher crumpled, paralyzed.
Darkness knocked the frozen Teacher over and ran his blade through the tree’s Nest. An amber substance bled from its otherwise hollow inner reaches. There was no seed.
“There’s no seed.” Darkness stated, and turned to find Teacher already back on his feet, staring at where the seed should be.
Darkness took a last look at Teacher and disappeared into the night.
Teacher was shocked. Every clue in the prophecy had pointed to the seed being here on this night. His arduous journey had been devoured by fate. Teacher concluded he was not the one the prophecy spoke of, and made his way back to the island.
The Quest Arises
The sun hovered over his trail of sore knotted steps, and his scorched self arrived at the white and red arched front door. He inserted a large silver key and swung the door open. Cool air enveloped him, and his little wolf bolted across the house. She jumped up and down, licking his sweat. He attempted to stop her, but she was relentless and he gave up. He massaged her head and she barked warmly. Raising his head, he observed his home’s wall of art layered with sharply drawn triangles and squares, and the historical figures Epicitus the Shipmaster, Maria the Peacebringer, and Orin the Woodmaker. The home had high ceilings, white walls, and a polished marble floor. The organized seating areas were furnished with unusual red chairs, silverwood tables, and conversational white leather sofas. One of the home’s most welcoming features was a snuggly hearth where people reclined to watch their desires emerge from the fire.
The scent of roasting lemon chicken wafted in from the kitchen, hypnotically attracting Hero. Hero had expended every ounce of energy during training. His muscles felt like tight tangled wires and his mind was a blank slate, but he knew his mother’s cooking would rejuvenate him. Thank the heavens I’m training this hard, now I can eat three plates if I wish to, he thought.
Mother called him from the kitchen. He was grateful it was her turn to cook today. He walked past the art and the furniture through the kitchen door. Hero ran to the tall glass of water sitting on the white glass counter, gulping its fresh contents to heal his dry throat.
His mother turned around and said, “Hello, Hero!”
Her loving brown eyes, silky black hair, tempered physique, and generous personality entranced everyone she met, and so she was loved by every being on the island. Her presence was rumored to help plants grow. Hero stretched, craning his head to look at the chicken and potatoes in the pots.
The scents of the cooking took Hero’s mind back to his childhood, to times where sunsets were golden and he sat among circles of families breaking bread, eating meat, and playing with the other children. His flashback was washed away by the swing of the tall white door and the entrance of his sisters.
“Hi Hero, how was your training? You look tired,” his younger sister greeted lovingly. Her brow furrowed with worry. She was still young, golden-haired, and clueless. She went about life playing ball with her friends and reading fables.
“I had a good time, but I’m exhausted,” Hero replied with a smile.
“Hello. I bet you did horrible today!” his adolescent sister bounced over, leaving the sunlit kitchen before Hero could think of a remark. She was maturing into a young woman, and her temperament was not always kind.
The sound of the plate clinking on the table signaled the beginning of Hero’s solitary feast. He was happy during every moment of the meal, until it was over. Hero held the strong belief that his stomach contained a portal to another dimension to where all the food he ate disappeared, because he was always hungry…