Chapter Text
She was Lesser Lord Kusanali, the Archon in Sumeru. The only Archon Sumeru has ever known.
Yet, if that was the case, why was she the Lesser Lord?
She was not always the Lesser Lord, for she was once just known as the Verdant Lord.
It was only due to her current form that she begun to be called Lesser Lord. Thousands of years ago she had another name, lived a different life.
Yet she could not recall any of it, such was her sacrifice.
She was called Lord Rukkhadevata then, and she had ruled alongside the Goddess of Flowers and the Scarlet King.
Her knowledge of it is no more than the average scholar. Such tales are like fables more than memories.
She, as Lord Rukkhadevata, had used her power to fight forbidden knowledge. King Deshert gave up his life to seal the leak, and she used up much of her power to purify what had been tainted.
This was the truth that the Traveler had learned hidden in the tomb of the last priest of the Scarlet King. A truth even she had never known.
Giving up her power lead to a regression. Much like how animals might cut off their tails in order to survive. Or how a great tree would try to mend itself after sustaining a grievous wound.
Such an act was dangerous, it left them weak.
Yet it was a necessary sacrifice in order to save others. She regressed into a smaller form, but she had then still maintained her knowledge and her memories. She was able to recover, to lead her people despite her loss of power.
She was the Goddess of Wisdom, the Verdant Lord, Sumeru's beloved Archon.
Then the calamity of Khaenri'ah occurred.
Her fellow Archons were summoned to it, while she was given the task of protecting Irminsul.
This truth she learned from Irminsul itself when she visited it with the Traveler.
She does not recall what she had to protect it from, but the task had taken all that she had. Upon her return, her powers were greatly diminished, all her memories lost, and she had reverted once more, this time to a child.
Unlike before, it was as if she was reborn anew. A weak and delicate sapling.
Though her people were happy for her return, they soon became disillusioned with her. She was no longer the Lord that they knew.
They began to call her by another name, Kusanali. They called the previous her the Greater Lord, and the new her the Lesser Lord.
It did not bother her at first, after all, were there not names for the different stages a creature experienced? It was true even of nations, with moments of great commerce and depressions.
Yet, with that name, they locked her away.
The transition from Rukkhadevata to Kusanali marked the end of an era, she was no longer their beloved Archon. She was no longer worthy of her title, Goddess of Wisdom.
As Rukkhadevata, she shone brightly as Sumeru's sun. Yet, as Kusanali, she lived only by being reminded of the glory of her past. Less than even the moon, she was a mere reflection on the water's surface.
As an Archon, she has always had many names, many titles. It may be because of the loss of her memory, but she doesn't feel like those names belong to her.
Many times they have told her that she was unworthy of those names. As if those deeds were done by another, one that she could never live up to.
Perhaps they were trying to convince themselves of that as well. That their beloved Archon had died, rather than live with the knowledge that she had been reduced to such a pitiful state.
Rukkhadevata belonged with the Scarlet King and the Goddess of Flowers. Famed and forever enshrined in glory. She was the most beautiful of flowers, forever in bloom, just as the stories in books are forever alive.
But time would always pass, and the flowers and trees would wither. The first glimpse of beauty was like the first taste of sweetness, it will always be fondly remembered, all others paling in comparison.
Like the blurring of ink on paper, the greatest stories are all lost to time.
It was strange, to wish that she could catch up to herself. She had spent so much time relearning all that she had forgotten, all in hopes that she would remember and return to being Rukkhadevata. However, even after hundreds of years she had neither regained her strength nor her memory.
For once a limb was cut off, it would not regrow. It was foolish to keep hoping that one day it would reappear. Her only choice was to continue forward with what she had.
So she accepted herself as Kusanali and left her past behind.
She vowed to regain the love of her people that she had lost because she could no longer live up to their expectations. She would show to them her strength, her will, as Kusanali.
She began to act as she wished, protecting her people, even if she lacked the power.
As the years passed, fewer and fewer spoke of her, and her deeds as Greater Lord Rukkhadevata were only told as history. Humanity moved on without her.
She was but a single relic of a long gone era, her purpose unknown.
But that was fine, she did not need worshipers. She only wished for them to live happily, peacefully.
It was only her growing concern for her people's safety that led to her seeking out the famous Traveler, and that led to her return. Together, they defeated the false god created by the sages. They saved Sumeru and the world by cleansing Irminsul.
Yet when she thinks about it, she finds herself pausing.
Why did the Sages wish to replace her?
Was it because they believed that, if she did not manage to recover after so long that she deserved to be replaced? That they needed a God that would protect Sumeru as an Archon should?
If they had only done so because their hand was forced, if they felt their actions were for the benefit of Sumeru perhaps she could be a bit lenient. But she could never trust them to guide her people again, not after they had misused their authority and treated them like test subjects, uncaring of their health or fates.
Her mind drifts to something else, recalling how she and the Traveler rode the boat on consciousness to cleanse Irminsul.
What did they need to cleanse Irminsul of? It was forbidden knowledge, but how did the tree become tainted with it?
Had she not purged it all with the help of the Scarlet King? Had she failed to protect Irminsul 500 years ago?
Or perhaps had it been infected afterwards, with her unable to realize it without her gnosis. If she had, would she have been able to cleanse it at its conception? Would she have been able to prevent the suffering her people endured because of it?
She does not know. When she tries to find the answer, it eludes her. It is as if she is reaching towards the clouds themselves. No matter how close she gets, it simply drifts away.
Or perhaps it's like the desert sands. The grains slipping through the gaps in her fingers with each attempt to fill her hands. A useless endeavor, for her hands were too small to gather the endless grains.
She recalls Dottore's words, the sky is false.
Perhaps there was something beyond this world, something beyond her understanding. Something to explain the gaps in her knowledge. The answer to the questions that she felt could not be answered.
The reason why she lost her memory 500 years ago and why her life began anew.
This was her truth, but could she be sure it was true? If not, then why?
Was it because she could not recall any of it herself? Or... Was it the strange disconnect she felt when she heard her previous names?
Even though she had accepted herself as Kusanali, the name Rukkhadevata still brought a sense of loneliness and longing.
A loneliness that she could not simply explain as missing a life she's never experienced as Kusanali.
The sky is false.
The truth has been cleverly hidden behind something you would not question. A deception so immaculate that even the Gods were unaware of it.
She wasn't quite sure she believed those words, but there is a part of her that holds them close. That she has been deceived, along with everyone else.
How could that be?
And... Just what had they all been convinced of?
She wished there was someone to tell her the truth.