BT IV - Chapter 28

Kylie opened her eyes.  The room was warm, the large fireplace crackling with flames despite the summer heat assured that.

She sat up slowly, bones creaking in protest against the movement. Her blanket fell away revealing wrinkled skin and thin night clothes that almost seemed a full size too large for her frail body.

They had fit once.  Years ago when Kylie had first begun to think of herself as old, she had bought them from a local tailor.  Snug and comfortable they had accompanied her through season after season, outlasting even the man that made him after he died due to drinking tainted wine.

Now, like her, they were old and worn.  Tired.

Her feet touched the floor, and Kylie drew in a sharp, quick breath.  It wasn’t actually cold.  She knew that.  Still, after her 95th birthday, even as her senses dimmed, every discomfort became more and more extreme

Mornings were an orchestra of pain and discomfort.  Stiff joints accompanied pinpricks of pain in her palms and feet, and even her breath felt like she was trying to suck in pudding through a straw.

She was dying.

Kylie didn’t really have any questions or regrets about the statement.  As time had passed, and decades began to blur together, her own mortality had transitioned from a distant prospect, to a constant fear, and finally to a goal.

Death wasn’t something she feared.  Every morning as her arthritic joints struggled to absorb the heat from her sweltering and Kylie sipped her morning tea, Kylie wondered what it would feel like.

To just close her eyes and to slip into Luxos’ embrace.  No pain.  No worry.  Just basking in the eternal light of the Bountiful Sun.

But not today.  For the first time in months, she’d dreamt, and as dreams went, it was a strange one.

Her memories were hazy, nothing new there, but for some reason she’s both a boy and a man at once.  She was trying to save the world, something about fighting giant ants in a dungeon.  None of it really made any sense.

Kylie wasn’t a fighter.  Maybe she should have been.  When she was a girl, the authorities in the church had urged her to take up the mantle of a crusader.  According to them, a Mythic blessing from Luxos was a calling, one she would be amiss to set aside, but that path had never been for her.  Her affinity was in wood, and wood magic was designed to protect and heal, not crush and destroy.

It had taken years, but she had worked her way up from running a small parish to managing Luxos’ affairs in an entire barony.  A half dozen priests worked under her, shepherding flocks in every village and hamlet within her jurisdiction.

Under Kylie’s stewardship, her followers were the healthiest and best fed in the kingdom.  Her baron barely helped her, but years of training and research with wood magic had left her with a set of custom spells that could grow rare medicinal herbs from a rock.  It didn’t matter the quality of the soil or the amount of sunlight the plants were exposed to, her followers were some of the richest and most successful farmers for thousands of leagues.

Years ago, the Church had come and begged Kylie to move to the capital.  A bishop had come to visit her, begging her to use her magic to turn the farmland around the city into a breadbasket, but she had refused.

The city?  Monsters?  That was not her place.  Kylie belonged out here, gently guiding her rural community toward prosperity and happiness all while glorifying Luxos’ good name.

That was why her dreams troubled her. She had lived a life of austerity and peace, never bothering to take a partner or think of herself.  Instead, every action Kylie took was devoted to helping her community.  Glory, excitement and wealth might drive most blessed, but for her, they all paled in comparison to the fellowship and love she felt every time she strolled amongst her flock spreading the word of Luxos.

She walked over to where her assistant had left a kettle filled with water and began filling a cloth sack with tea leaves and shavings of fragrant bark.  Kylie’s hands trembled as she packed the bag and submerged it in the water.  Each day, her daily rituals became harder.  First, she lost the energy to perform morning sermons.  Every day slipped and became weekly, and finally Kylie could only manage to speak on the high holidays.

Same with her daily walks through the market.  About 5 years ago, she lost the ability to handle them on her own.  Until last year, Kylie needed an assistant to lend her a shoulder while she walked through the busy streets.  Unfortunately, the activity was too much for her now, even with help.

Kylie sighed, ignoring the aches in her arms as she pushed the kettle atop her fire.  It seemed that making her morning tea was destined to go the same route.

She walked slowly to the rocking chair that sat beside the fire and picked up the blanket that was waiting there before sitting it down and draping it over her lap.

It creaked, a gentle rhythmic sound as she moved back and forth and thought about the dreams.

Saving the world and fighting monsters?  Those were for other people.  Adventurous people.  The sort of people that lived brilliant lives only to die in their 20s while fighting a beast wave or dungeon break.  Sure, the bards sang songs about them and children wanted to grow up to be like them, but Kylie had seen them come and go.

Every 10 or so years, another wave of the ‘greatest blessed to grace the kingdom’ rose to prominence.  They won tournaments and fought powerful monsters only to die and be replaced by the next wave of ‘the greatest talent ever seen.’  All the while, her barony grew and prospered.

That is what Luxos wanted.  Individual glory withered and faded with time.  What truly mattered was building communities and knowledge.  A strong warrior here and there might garner fame, but they couldn’t do anything against an entire army that had been carefully nurtured by the church.

Kylie sighed again.  She’d never really doubted the church’s teachings before today.  It had seemed clear.  A strong kingdom made strong weapons and trained strong warriors.  That was why they won their constant wars with the durgh and the elves.

But for the first time, she began to wonder if maybe she had been wrong.  It wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.  Kylie was too old and worn down by a life well-lived to change her strategy now, but what if things could have been different?

What if she had been there to heal those ‘generational talents’ when they were fighting off the northern Drake Incursion?  What if she were on hand to aid the King’s army in the latest subjugation expedition against the durgh in the Great Depths?  How many lives could she have saved?

She shook her head, a frown creasing her wrinkled face.  Even if she didn’t fight, how would the world have been different if she had moved away from her comfortable home and become one of the bishops in the capital?  There weren’t any great famines, but at least two plagues had come and gone since the church had extended her an invitation.

If she had been able to cure the red shakes or the wet wrack, thousands would have lived.

No, Kylie thought, pursing her lips.  At least 20 thousand.  Far more people than had ever lived in her barony.  There was no doubt that she could have done the most good in the capital, but despite that she had hid out in the country.

“Why?”  She asked herself, blurry eyes fixing on the kettle atop her fire.  “Why didn’t I go?  It seemed so clear at the time.  That I would be giving up some corner of my principles if I were to leave, but it all feels hazy now.”

The fire crackled in response.  The sound was an accusation.  Like the dancing flames were judging her for her cowardice.

“But I just wanted to stay free from the politics of the nobles and the church,” Kylie pled.  “Out here, no one bothered me.  I didn’t have to worry that I had been spotted talking to the wrong person or that a project interfered with someone’s profits.  I could simply do good without the machinations and complications.”

The fire didn’t respond, but that didn’t make Kylie feel any better.  For the first time in almost 50 years, she was filled with regret.  Remorse over putting her comfort above the well-being of the people.

She was tired.  After so many years of trying to do good in a corrupt world, Kylie was so tired.  Nothing she did was enough.  No many how many peasants she healed, there were others she couldn’t get to in time, and they suffered and died.

Her eyes closed.  The only sound was the creaking of her rocking chair as she sat next to the fire.

It was too much for her.  The pain of living.  The weight of continuing on.  Every morning both of them increased.  Not much, just a little bit each time until she was practically buried under the incredible burden of existence.

Maybe a nap would help.  This wasn’t like her.  Just a quick doze to calm herself after the brief bout of inward facing terror.

Yes, that would be good.  A short rest.  There had been so much building up, Kylie could let herself slip away for a bit.  Just this once.

The creaking of the chair stopped.

When the tea kettle whistled 10 minutes later, there was no one there to respond.