The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Silence befell them. Ollanar wheezed and coughed for a moment, a flicker of weakness flashing across those gentle pupils, but as fast as they emerged, so too did they vanish, gone in a blink. He poured the wine through the gap in his mask, gulped the entire chalice dry, and dripped beads of wine into the clean table, the purplish elixir glistening on the golden mask. With a clean handkerchief, the Primaere carefully wiped the table, not leaving a single drop to remain. Oscar felt it odd to watch a Primaere clean his table and continued to watch the old one drink another full chalice.

'He might as well drink the whole bottle.' Oscar tried to amuse himself with the imagery, but his frown deepened, Ollanar's previous words digging into his mind. Fallen Heaven. Sirsi had mentioned it to Avril; more importantly, Metures said to meet him there. Oscar asked, "Fallen Heaven. Long ago, I heard its name, but no record existed, and those I asked never spoke of it. What is it? Why does it concern me? I have given that path up."

"If only it were so simple to stand, turn, and quit. The signs have shown themselves. A voice calls. You may not hear it now, but soon, all will hear the call." Ollanar put away the bottle and chalices, a stern gaze pointing outside the window. The voice lost the gentle tone, carrying a harshness that felt like a dagger scraping his bone. "Fallen Heaven, the Great Scouring, the Long Massacre. I never thought its emergence would be during my lifetime. Perhaps it is the rising tides of the ages now crashing down on us."

"I don't understand," Oscar stated bluntly, scratching his armrests, unnerved by the sudden shift in demeanor from the Primaere.

"Few records exist, and those who know, all without exception, choose to keep their mouths shut. Sometimes, a person should live in ignorance to be freed from fear. The last time it happened, of the countless Marshal Exalts who ventured to Fallen Heaven, less than a tenth survived, and billions more on Talos perished." Ollanar's face was hidden under the mask, but Oscar could tell the Primaere was grimacing. "It is unknown how many times it has repeated throughout history, but it has gained its titles and names in the blood of almost all Talos."

It sounded absurd, absolutely preposterous. Oscar stared intently and deeply into Ollanar's eyes and found nothing to argue against, the clear, radiant gaze lacking any blemishes of deceit and lies. While a Primaere could easily trick him and entrap him in a lie, Oscar felt Ollanar spoke truthfully, the graveness in the old one's voice lending credence to the gravity of his words. But he still couldn't wrap his thoughts around it, tapping his fingers nervously on the armrests. Billions, he said. Nearly all Marshal Exalts, he stated. Oscar paled and coughed, wondering how such tragedies occurred.

"Running is futile. I'm sorry, Isaac's heir. Your life will never be the same, but you must keep fighting. When the time comes, when the world has made its decision, you must fight." Ollanar shook his head.

"Why? Why can't I bunker down and hide away?" Oscar asked, gripping his hands tightly.

"When Fallen Heaven arrives, Talos responds and throws every Marshal Exalt unto it. You, your wife, your Prielapos friend, all Marshal Exalts will be forced to answer and go." As Oscar was stunned by the truth, like lightning piercing every inch of his spine, Ollanar carried on, "Fallen Heaven is a chunk of Talos, separated during the cataclysmic war, not unlike the fragmented lands of Shattirma. It exists in perpetual isolation and is only open for the years designated by Talos. Now, ask yourself, the Marshal Exalts are the primary leaders of clans, families, groups, and others. What will happen once they are gone? And what will happen once only a mere tenth or less returns?"

Realization struck him like a hammer. The warm air turned to a chill frost, his skin shivering as his imagination wandered to the horrific possibilities. Stunned, Oscar widened his eyes, already seeing great wars waged on Talos, the powerless factions rising at the one chance to overthrow those above them, others taking the chance to wage wars to occupy more territories and claim revenge on foes. The oceans of Talos would be red, its plains scarlet, and mountains made of corpses, not stone and dirt.

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"The King Exalts will run themselves ragged to travel far and between their territories as all try to reshuffle the order of power. Regrettably, they can't stop everyone under them. Battles will be waged where they are not present. The Primaeres also can't move everywhere to quell the unrest, the bulk of their forces being in Fallen Heaven, and will focus on their primary territory. Some may forgo their subordinate lands. Many lands also lack King Exalts to stop the massacre from becoming an annihilation. Whoever comes out on top of the conflicts on those particular lands will be the new overlords." Ollanar shook his head as if disapproving of the madness. "Hence, the Great Scouring, the Long Massacre, for Fallen Heaven will trap everyone for ten years."

Oscar backed away from the table and wheeled over to the open window, his eyes catching a glimpse of Avril studying and judging fruits in her arms, a pensive look on her face. He turned to Ollanar and asked, "How?"

"Fate. Every Marshal Exalt is taken away and thrust into Fallen Heaven. Where do they end up? Where will you end up? Where will your wife end up? Never clear. Some say Fallen Heaven is fate manifest, guiding all Exalts down the paths that they must tread." Ollanar sighed, a single exhale that darkened the room despite the light still shining into the house. "You may be separated from her. How will you navigate the ruins of ancient battles and cursed lands and find her without the strength? You're determined to live by your wife's side, then fight. Fight to hold her close and protect her. Fight for that life."

Anger flared in his chest, and he gritted his teeth, breaking the armrests again as his hands clutched them in strong grips, splinters resting between his fingers. Why? Was it fate that continued to carve this scarred path for him? Why couldn't he be left alone? Oscar turned back to Avril, who was carefully eyeing two more fruits, no doubt wanting to bake a delicious pie with the best ingredients for him. Ollanar strode quietly behind him, looking out the window.

"I say this all to you now, not to throw you into despair but because you must know. Hope can only come from preparation. Hope can only find you in the darkest times if you fight for its light." Ollanar pulled the handles and wheeled Oscar outside. "It is better for you to see and talk to your wife in this tranquil forest and reenter the house renewed."

"Wait," Oscar grabbed the wrists and was surprised to find them thin and bony, with barely any muscles or flesh, as if skin wrapped around the bone. From that, he concluded the Primaere was light as a feather. First, Carcoatl, and now Ollanar. Were all Primaeres at their advanced age, probably over four thousand judging from how they all knew Gol-4's real self, rotting a slow death? Loosening his hold, Oscar lowered his arms and asked, "Why are you really here? Why come all this way to tell me this? What's your gain?"

"I was Isaac's friend, as you have heard before. We met, he and I. We were but Knight Exalts when we first met. Quite the astonishing fellow he was. Sometimes, I wondered what truly went on in that head of his." Ollanar chuckled, gentleness rising once more, smoothing out the harshness from before. "Seeing you and your wife, I remember him and Evelyn long ago."

"He had twenty wives. We're not the same." Oscar scoffed, and Ollanar responded in bright laughter, the soft-spoken Primaere losing all pretenses and letting loose a ruffian's outburst.

"Despite all the love he shared and the many descendants he fathered, all of it fell." Ollanar lost his liveliness, wheezing. Whether it came from exhaustion from laughing or choking on emotions, Oscar didn't know, keeping his mouth shut. He sat in silence and waited for the Primaere to speak. "At that time, we, Carcoatl and I, were too weak, too powerless to oppose the ones who wished for his destruction. Silvia and her Forest Heart Clan were great weapons and scapegoats for their plans."

"He never mentioned you," Oscar stated.

"You…spoke with him?" Ollanar's voice trembled.

"Not him in particular, but a golem carrying his memories. He often spoke of his past, stories of his adventures and wives. Not once did he mention a snail or a wine lover." Oscar tugged free from Ollanar's hold and slowly moved down the stone road.

"That idiot. In the end, he must have feared implicating us and wiped parts of his recorded memories, just in case." Ollanar seemed to understand and looked up to the sky, which was currently ablaze. "Lecherous brainiac." He patted Oscar's head and chuckled, "So you spoke with at least an echo. That reassures me. You are his true inheritor, not someone who stumbled upon his old books. Remember that other than his ingenious blueprints and outlandish ideas, you carry on his spirit."

The warm hand departed, and Oscar looked back, seeing no one. Ollanar had vanished. He regarded Avril with a complicated gaze. It seemed there would be no peace.

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