Chapter Text
Dusk turned to night in The Heights. The sun turned downward, hiding over the horizon, to make way for the moon. Travelers picked up their weapons and headed home. Your home, however, was in The Heights. You stayed for a long time, though not because you were particularly fond of combat. Your expertise was in learning and recording, rather than swordfighting. You knew everything about the swords, but not how to wield them. No, you were here in service of the deity, Telamon.
My follower.
His voice always sounded the clearest when the stars were higher. There was no sound of combat to drown him out. You drifted, wandering toward the edge. The platform rocketed you towards the top where the four pillars stood, and the vibrant Illumina rested. You rested your weary legs, sitting in the middle of the columns. Only then did Telamon reveal Himself.
"It's been years now," He began. The soft feeling of wind on skin halted. With the next blink, you found His cloaks wrapped around you.
Your head tilted down. Your throat hardened. "Telamon, I wasn't entirely honest with why I came here." You sat in the lap of a god. There is nothing but Him surrounding you.
"People usually aren't," Telamon mused, voice mumbly with a tint of amusement to his tone. "I'm not worried about that, though."
You were silent, contemplating the many ways you could speak your wish. "…I just wish for a world without pain," you whispered, "I thought… I don't know. I thought I would find it with you." Your head hung the lowest of lows. You closed your eyes to prevent tears from escaping.
Despite his frame encapsulating yours, Telamon made no move to touch you. "Well, you know how to pick 'em," he joked dryly. "I don't think a world without pain is possible, though. When we don't have conflict, we struggle. We're constantly attempting to improve." You moved back into the dark fabric, and he caught you in his arms. "There will be mistakes. Things people can't control or fix. Struggles and comparisons; pride is a sin. Suffering is part of the experience. You see it here. We have everything up here, but people fight anyway." The Darkheart appeared in your peripheral, and Telamon brandished it with a clawed hand. He brought it in front of your vision. "They create the conflict they seek."
"I'm sorry I can't come up with a more… comforting answer," Telamon murmured. The Darkheart disappeared into a cloud of mist. The night sky returned. "You're in a lot of pain yourself. You're like a sponge." He squeezed your middle. "And you're really angry. You're vengeful. You want things to be done that you can't control, but… why not focus on the things you can?"
"Don't stay hopeless, my follower."