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You see, there are certain risks that scholars like me carry. We ponder the unknown, drive ourselves mad with concepts of love, hate, and humanity. We think of infinity, as we may never know it, and reach beyond that. It is what often drives us to our graves yet we falter not. We strive to know the unknown, feel for the unfeeling and find the truths amidst the liars. Maybe that will be our downfall, maybe that will be our salvation.
In other worlds, somewhere between the other side and ours, is a type of purgatory none can reach. A place left vacant only for those who have suffered worse than death before succumbing. Creatures of myth and legends. They call themselves sinners, we call them gods. And maybe it is because we are egotistical fools, drunk with delusion, that we think they were human once. From humanity, they were born and to that same humanity, they shall never return. Whether this was true or not is still up for debate. Those few who speak to us give varying responses because they know we can never tell apart the tricksters from the truth-tellers. All we can do is stare into their golden eyes and watch as they pull our souls out from our lying tongues.
Among these wretched, beautiful beings, is a name akin to loneliness. We speak his name often like one might call a friend, a father, or a brother. And he answers, of course, because he had always loved us; The abandoned, the damned, and the unworthy.
Most of them never align with the names they were given when they lived. They often chose a different name, a name that may never be spoken by us, names too unfamiliar for our clumsy tongues. Their devotees use various aliases because not even they know their true names. Except for him. He is familiar the same way he is foreign, loves the same way he hates. He is divinity personified and we are in awe of him. He calls himself Nathaniel. A name so painstakingly human. In our desperate times, we call him.
He may not always answer but salvation always reaches you when he does. You are lucky if he answers, it only means he considers you as his.. his– Well, some say you are now his devotee which is misleading, of course, because he requires no other worship than at that one moment, wants nothing more for you to call his name so that he may comfort you.
Others, the more shunned souls, say that he is more of a parent to you now. I like that better than most. He does feel like home, warmth when there is none.
He’d always been the kindest out of all of them but do not mistake his kindness as foolishness. He knows what he is. Gold taints his fingers and he cries tears the color of divinity. He is not weak and he is not human, close but never truly human. You must remember that.
He is to be feared, maybe even more than the rest of them, because there are consequences to being as close to humans as you and I. To be a god is to be powerful, to be a god is to know all, to be a god is to not be human. With his humanity comes great pains, with his humanity comes great rage. I have heard great stories, different circumstances depending on who you ask but great nonetheless. He has toppled kingdoms, built empires just to tear them down. He is as ruthless as he is kind, as divine as he is human. He shares our delusions just as he shares our compassion.
As I write this, I feel him in my fireplace lounging quietly. I feel him most in the hearth and it is no wonder because he’d always loved scholars, loved the curiosity of us humans. I knew that, if I asked for it, he’d give me the knowledge I yearn for. Because, out of all of them, Nathaniel had been the only one to retain our strangeness.
Infinity is in my grasp and it is with a certain horror that I find myself enthralled by the madness.
Here, in Tasepia and in many other lands, we call him the carer of the abandoned. I’ve heard people gossip about where he is residing now. Most say Catalyos for it is a breeding ground for wandering minds and abandoned souls like their captain. Their captain who has lost everything. They say that she has the carer’s blessing, she is very lucky for that.
Nevertheless, he is to be feared. Feared not for his god-like power, but for his human heart.
“Oh, child. We aren’t gods. A god can never be mortal and, as much as they like to deny it, we were mortals once too.”