Ch7-5: Banished One

“ZZZZZZZERRRRROOOOOOOOM!”

Zemi’s roar thundered through the foundations of the Wayfringe. Lucid essence folded in upon itself as the luminous cloud of white energy churned violently into existence. As if the force was too massive to contain, the dimensional threads shuddered, weakening and threatening to come undone.

Calmness came in response. A cold blue light appeared. Though it was much smaller than the first, it did not flinch at the emanation of pure rage.

“You’ve finally come, Zemi. I was wondering how long you would keep me waiting.”

Zerom’s voice was wispy. Distant. A strong sign that he placed himself behind a dimensional shielding. Despite the seemingly innate composure that blanketed his essence, it was obvious that he was being careful.

Very, very careful.

After all, no one, not even the other Arweinydd, knew the full stretch of Zemi’s capabilities. He was by far the oldest and strongest of their kind, and upon Making a physical form for himself among the Earthians, his supremacy had begun to increase with dreadful viciousness. To the Others, Zemi had grown from being merely powerful to enormously dangerous.

Within the Wayfringe, the Dreigiau would not be subjected to the restrictions that he dealt with while he remained in the Earthian world. Here, literally anything could be possible, as long as one had the power to do it. There was little doubt that Zemi Dreigiau held the means to do whatever he pleased. That’s why the Others were growing restless.

Now the Dreigiau was extremely angry with him. Zerom knew his brother had a way of growing dangerously feral when he was aggravated. Rage was something that shortened his foresight and left him flustered, snappy and short-fused. And when Zemi got short-fused, people got hurt.

It was exactly the type of attitude that Zerom wanted the Dreigiau take back with him to the Earthian realms. Perhaps then, Zemi would show the people there what he was really like. So far, they had only seen the Dreigiau the way he wanted — cheerful, benevolent, good natured, and concerned for their well-being — which was far, far from the terrible truth.

The churning white light seemed to collect itself. When Zemi’s voice next came, it was schooled and constrained, “Why don’t you come out from your little dimensional pocket, Brother?”

Zerom gave a cold laugh, “I can hear you just fine from right here.”

“I thought as much. You call me here, yet you do not face me.”

“Face you? Now, then, Zemi, it sounds like you want to fight,” his voice was sweet with forced concern. “What in the name of the Light has gotten you so worked up?”

“You know very well!” a low, draconic growl shook the seams of the void.

Control was shifting. The light began to grow static, more wild around the edges. It blurred away from the center of the vortex, fighting against contained rage. Zemi Dreigiau was fighting very hard to resist the Chaotic sway. But it sought his soul, just as it sought out any creature who grew powerful enough to command the forces of creation and destruction.

Chaos wanted the Dreigiau. It wanted him badly. And unless there was some miracle, some fickle twist of providence, Zemi would eventually be drawn toward his own annihilation. It was the fate of all who commanded the power of ‘Esgor-ar.

The Others knew it. It was obvious that Zemi had already begun to change. He was hazardous. To himself. To the Others. And least of all, to the Earthian people he so strongly championed. They would be the hinge of his undoing, and there was nothing that Zerom nor the Others could say to reason with Zemi.

The Dreigiau was far too drunk on his own power.

“I know what very well, Brother?” Zerom answered quietly.

“What you have done.”

“Enlighten me.”

The energy shifted again, growing more furious. The voice was low and distorted as if spoken through clenched teeth, “I’ll show you enlightenment!”

“Dear Zemi, you are growing far too serious in your old age.”

“Stop playing games with me before I rip you out of your little dimensional pocket and shred your essence a thousand ways from yesterday!”

Zerom fell silent. He knew his brother never made idle threats. Zemi was a creature of instant action, no matter how violent the action might be.

“Now,” the Dreigiau’s voice took command. “What do you think you’re doing in Nefol?”

“Visiting.”

“You are to remove yourself instantly. They don’t want you there.”

“How do you know? Have you asked them?”

“They are my people.”

“Is that so?” Zerom laughed lightly.

“How dare you come to my city and start altering the Earthian forms!”

“As if you have a right to talk. It is no worse than what you have done to ‘your people,’ except you give them wings.”

“No, it IS different. I know the potential nature of these people. You don’t and the quality of your creations demonstrates this!”

“What do you mean?” there was a slight edge to Zerom’s voice.

“They’re nothing more than walking, rot-infested slime when you get done with them! If you try to force them to be something they were never meant to be, the Earthians will simply fall apart!”

“That’s exactly how I want them,” Zerom sneered, covering the blow to his pride.

It was true, after all his attempts to empower the Earthians that were under his control, they ended up doing nothing more than rapidly decomposing. Zerom had searched for alternate ways to embed his power into the people, but their flesh was simply too weak to contain Arweinydd energy for any extended amount of time.

“I’m sure,” Zemi growled. “All offensive and nauseating, just like you.”

“Now, Brother… such cold words…”

The Dreigiau snapped sharply, “The way you’ve been acting, you are no longer a brother to me!”

There was a long moment of silence. Zerom attempted to hide his pained scorn when he next spoke. “Very well. I will not tell you the danger you are in.”

Silence came again.

Finally, Zemi muttered, “There is very little that I cannot handle.”

“I am sure. But are your precious winged people as resilient as you?” Zerom pointed out slyly.

A low growl rippled through the void, “You will leave them alone!”

“It is your fault for pulling them into this in the first place! Do you not understand what you have done, Zemi? Do you not see anything wrong with your actions? At all?”

“Wrong? MY ACTIONS? What have I done that gives you the right to do what you have been doing?”

“You’ve taken on a fully-functional physical Earthian form, Zemi!”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“EVERYTHING!” Zerom felt his voice lift in protest. One last time. One last time he’d try to reach him, despite the fact that Zemi had already disowned him.

“I WILL DO AS I SO PLEASE!” Zemi thundered in response.

Even within the shelter of the dimensional shield, Zerom was shaken by the jolt of Zemi’s rage. It felt as if the Dreigiau was trying to force his way into the pocket and pull him out of the protection, just as he had threatened to do earlier.

“I’m not telling you what to do!” Zerom reasoned, a trickle of fear breaking through his calm exterior. Arweinydd were not supposed to have the power to slay other Arweinydd. But with Zemi, one could never tell. “I’m trying to warn you, Brother! You have to believe me!”

Everything fell still.

Zemi’s voice was low and deadly, “Then warn me.”

“The Others…”

“What of them?”

“This is their will.”

“What are you saying?”

“They have deemed you Rhoi’r!” Zerom’s voice leaked what sounded like genuine concern.

Zemi fell silent.

Rhoi’r.

It meant “Banished One.” It was the worst fate imaginable by those of their people, for to be banished was to be hunted. And to be hunted and found was to be Remade.

Remaking was not something that had ever been done in Zerom’s memory. He wasn’t even sure of the details of such a process. But he did know that its purpose was to take those who strayed from the norm and change them into what the Arweinydd deemed to be acceptable for their kind. The Mistake of long ago must never be allowed to happen again. And those, like Zemi, who sway to the call of Chaos and Creation also touch the powers that nearly caused the death of everything.

“So you see?” Zerom’s words came slowly.

“Rhoi’r?”

“Yes.”

“For what? Simply because I chose to see what life was like in Earthian form?”

“You’re just too close to them, Zemi, it’s too dangerous to Make yourself. You know that.”

“I wasn’t Making myself!” he protested.

“Then what do you call it?”

“Well… I’d call it…” the Dreigiau paused.

When he didn’t answer, Zerom finished the statement for him, “Making yourself.”

Zemi fell into a fuming silence.

“Brother, this is serious,” Zerom intoned. “Maybe, just maybe if you come away from that world, away from those insignificant little creatures… come back to the Wayfringe with us and swear never to return to the Earthian world again… Maybe they’ll take you back. It might not be too late.”

Zemi fell silent once again. For a very long time.

“Brother…”

Something about the silence was extremely uncomfortable.

“Come back with me, Brother…”

When Zemi finally answered, his voice was stern, “No.”

Zerom couldn’t contain his shock, “No? What do you mean, no?”

“It is what I said, is it not?”

“Zemi, you can’t mean that!”

“I do.”

“But they’re… they’re little nothings! Why would you choose nothings over us! We’re–”

“Planning to confine me. Then Remake me,” Zemi interrupted.

“What!?”

“Do you think I am stupid?”

“That’s not true, Zemi! It’s–”

“Whether it is true or not, I’d still never leave the Earthians. You know that, Zerom. These people mean too much to me.”

Zerom’s voice lowered, tone growing dark. “You will kill them all, Zemi. You know what your power holds for them. You know it’s not meant to be like this.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“And what of the Chaos?”

Zemi almost choked, “I… I am fine.”

“Fine? You call this erratic behavior fine?”

“I will not fall to the Chaos, Zerom.” The words were spoken with finality.

“You will not have a choice, Brother. If you remain there, it is your promised fate.”

“So, it is Chaos on one hand… Remaking on the other,” Zemi stated quietly.

“Maybe so?”

The white cloud of energy was moving in a slow, rather reluctant manner now. “What are you going to do about it, Zerom?”

“I will do what I must.”

“I knew you’d say so,” Zemi’s tone was somewhat sad. “Just be careful.”

“Be careful? Why, what are you planning to–”

“Not of me.”

“Then of what?” Zerom retorted.

“You, too, are dabbling in ‘Esgor-ar.”

The way the words were spoken sent a chill over Zerom’s form.

Zemi continued, “Be careful that you always know where you stand. Or you may find the Chaos upon you instead of me.”

Zerom’s retort was hot in the air. But just as the words came, they fell away. For the white light that had been Zemi was nowhere to be seen.

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