The Onaria Chronicles: Death to the Druid

The old man, a storm elf, moved slowly towards the Cernunnists he was meeting with, his old, tattered, dirty hooded robes no longer white from years of use without being washed. His once-blonde, now-grey hair blew in the wind, and his long, unruly beard trailed down to his chest. He walked with a simple tree-branch he had broken off years ago, and although his aged body was frail and slow, his icy blue eyes still held much personality and passion. 

“Welcome, teacher,” one of the Cernunnists greeted in Romic. “I trust you found Roma’s forests welcoming?”

“Very,” the old man replied in Tarsoric, for he could not speak Romic, but could understand it. “Crados. Thank you.”

The old man walked to the middle of the group of Cernunnist druids, taking a deep breath, smelling the wondrous aroma of nature surrounding him, flowing around him and permeating him. The trees, the grass, the air…but also the nearby city of Tarnum. Too close for the old man’s liking, but this was where the Cernunnists wanted to meet. 

The old man opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself. Something was wrong. All of a sudden, the air felt…tainted. The wind stopped. There was a chill in his bones, yet also a perverse heat on his skin. The elf lowered his hood, leaning heavily on his walking branch. 

“What’s wrong?” one of the Cernunnists asked, startled. “Sir Nemo, are you okay?”

The old elf – Nemo – felt another feeling. An unexplainable feeling which one especially attuned to magick might feel. This ethereal feeling translated to dread in his heart. 

Somebody plays with power they do not understand, Nemo thought. No…no. They understand. I do not.

Nemo looked up – he had been staring at the ground – to see the Cernunnists all watching him, their expressions cold and unwavering. Nemo simply observed them, saying nothing and doing nothing. His old heart was calm in his chest, and his mind was at ease. Whatever was happening…he was prepared. 

“Our eyes have been opened,” one of the Cernunnists finally spoke. “We see clearly now. Your kind, you elves, you are a blight upon Terra. Humans are the Will of Adono.”

“It sounds as if your eyes have been closed,” Nemo countered, but not in a sarcastic tone, rather, in a matter-of-act, disappointed tone. 

“Silence!” the Cernunnist snapped, striking Nemo’s cheek with the back of his hand, sending the elderly elf onto his brittle side, his walking branch falling beside him. “The Voice of Adono has decreed your punishment, and we are His Hands!”

The Cernunnists all encroached upon Nemo, and the closest kneeled down, grabbing his face roughly. 

“You will go to Cheol,” the human spat in Nemo’s face. “There is no Redemption for the filthy races. If it puts your mind at peace, know that your death will be the beginning of the cleansing of Terra.” 

“My mind was at peace before that.”

The Cernunnist released Nemo’s face, his own expression being that of anger and spite. Together, the Cernunnists all began to kick at Nemo’s ragged, bony body. As Nemo closed his eyes, he saw his friend, the one who had lived within his mind and soul all throughout his life – a spectral lion, golden-maned and blue-eyed, his luminescent body partially transparent. The lion’s eyes were filled with pity and remorse, but it did nothing, for it already knew that Nemo had accepted his face. Pain pulsed through Nemo’s body, but he barely noticed it. He had achieved what he’d set out to. He had helped people who couldn’t help themselves. He had done good in the world, even after the world had wronged him in horrible ways. 

As I was born in the dirt, beaten and wronged, I die in the dirt, beaten and wronged. But I am at peace.

Nemo opened his eyes. The pain was gone. The Cernunnists were gone. It was just him in the forest. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes gain. There was the familiar smell of the forest, but this time, without the tainted odour of the city Tarnum. He opened his eyes. 

“Hello.”

There stood his spiritual companion, the lion whose name Nemo shared – Nemo’s real name. 

“Aestas,” the lion spoke, “we are now one.”

“Yes,” Nemo smiled. “But weren’t we always?”

The lion purred. “It’s time to go home. Are you ready?”

“I am.”