Chapter Text
The boy was running through high grass and vast fields, laughing hysterically as his little brother and sister followed him closely and quickly, just as amused. Their breathing was heavy with the thick humidity of the fjord, the sky was cloudy with a hint of darkness, and the hidden sun of Saturday was supposedly right above them. It came as no surprise when the younger siblings stopped abruptly, a faint voice carried by the wind. It was their mother, calling them in for lunch. The boy didn't hear though. He kept running.
He didn't notice when he left the other two. They tried to get his attention, but by the time they called for him, he was out of earshot. They turned around and he sprinted through the fjord, a large mountain rising just before him, a whole cord surrounding him slowly.
Behind him was his home. A small cabin near the river. His father was a fisherman, and his mum was a seamstress. They didn't live near the village, but they didn't live far either. It was just enough for them to have peace and love in a nice community. Everything worked. They were happy.
And he ran.
He was way too distracted by the flock of birds above him, flying in circles just ahead, when he tripped dumbly with a small stone. He tripped and fell and rolled, his skin being ripped and torn and his knees bruised and scraped. He fell and ended up flat on his face, but he was okay. It hurt, but he was okay.
He flipped around so that he was staring at the sky and took a few painful breaths. The sky was grey with clouds, the birds were black, and the sun was just as it should be around midday. Time for lunch. Where were his brother and sister?
He stayed there for a while, not being strong enough to get up and go back to the cabin. He wondered if someone was going to get him or if he had to go back by himself. Probably the latter, he thought, and in that case, he'd wait for a while. His palms stung harshly, his knee was bleeding slightly and it was hard to move it. He was rather sore. So he'd wait for a bit until he could properly get up and go back to the house. He couldn't be too far, but he was tired.
He didn't know how long he stayed there. At some point, he lost track of time, just staring up into the sky. Until he suddenly realized the earth beneath him was shaking slightly. Too slightly to be something bad, so it had to be something else. Animals, perhaps. And indeed he was right. He barely got his head up to see who was coming. A hooded figure galloped across the land. Dark red clothes, a purely white horse.
It was one of them.
The boy was shocked to see the bishop halting his horse a few meters near him. The man climbed down elegantly, scarlet flaunting behind him as he approached the boy. It was a rather ghastly image, one he never thought he'd see. His face was undercover but shrouded in shadows. The mean leaned and hovered above him, inspecting him for any injury.
"Are you alright, son?" a deep voice asked.
The answer was a shaky nod, too surprised to give a proper reply.
"Do you live close by? Do your parents know you're here?"
The boy gulped loudly before he was able to answer. The bishop helped him get up slowly, sitting up. His eyes were kind.
"Yes, that way. My mom is probably waiting for me to get back."
The bishop inspected him curiously. The boy's clothes were torn, his hair was dishevelled, and his skin was scraped. The kid looked taken back, but not scared. He was rather curious, actually. Not even a hint of nervousness in his whole figure, just a rebellious kid ready for fun.
"I'll take you home, then. It's getting dark earlier these days, winter is close. It will soon get late." The boy agreed.
He climbed on the high horse with a bit of help, and they rode for a while until they got home. His mother was waiting outside, arms crossed and a worried yet stern look on her face. He could see her slightly fuming. Still, when they approached, the kid smiled brightly in the hopes of easing the woman with his childlike charm. She did not relent.
"Where were you?! We were worried sick! I called you back for lunch but you didn't hear. Your brother and sister said you ran off?!" she shouted as soon as they arrived. She smacked him lightly in the back of the head as a reprimand, and then soon turned around to face the bishop. The woman had not realized who it was until then, too worried to take in his red clothes, and she was suddenly struck with shock. She did a small reverence, an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry for the trouble he may have caused. It won't happen again. It is such an honour to stand before one of the Nine. How may I repay your kindness, sir?"
"There's no need for that," he replied. "It was my pleasure to help. I was heading for the village, so I'll probably be on my way."
"Can I at least offer you a cup of tea? It's cold outside and riding such a long distance surely may have caused some sort of discomfort. You are more than invited to stay and wait for the fatigue to wear off."
The man considered the thought for a little bit and accepted. The woman was delighted. For a simple family like theirs, having someone of such a high rank over was unheard of. It was a chance for them.
They walked in and the boy helped his mother set a few cups on the table. She told him to stay with them since he had not eaten his lunch. So the three of them sat at the table. The bishop had removed his hood, discovering his raven black hair. He and the boy's mother talked for a while, about life in the countryside, about her husband, about the village. At some point, her concerns about money came up, but she shrugged them off. She didn't want to be a bother, she said, and come off as needy. It was just an issue, they could solve it. But the man's mind was somewhere else, evidently, and he cut her off. His eyes were on the boy, who was eating porridge absently.
"You can change that," he began. "I am certain you are familiar with our home Dema."
"Yes, of course. Everyone here knows about the City of Faith. It sounds like a great place, I always wanted to visit."
"Well then, as you may know, the city is actually a monastery. This is why we citizens are disciples, priests and bishops. Perhaps you would be interested in your son following the path of Light?"
"What?" she asked, shocked.
"We take students to train them from a young age. We always have. The kids are usually from families who want them to strive and have a name."
"But… I'm just a seamstress. We have no wealth, sir. May I ask why?"
"I ask because I think your son will fit in, and it's a beautiful place. Don't be concerned about money, please. Sometimes it's because they are the youngest of a wealthy family, and sometimes it's because they have no money at all, not a name nor a home. But the fact, ma'am, is all of them are the same under the eyes of the Light, or God. In Dema, everyone is equal and treated fairly. We all have the same opportunities and can learn the ways of the path. I would personally take your son under my tutelage, should you accept."
They discussed it for a while. It sounded like an opportunity for their family. Dema would take care of the boy, raise him, train him, and he could periodically send a sum of money for them. He would learn and have better opportunities than them. In the Fjord, they had no universities, no cities, no big governments. It was just their farms and villages, and Dema. It was nothing but a privilege to be asked that question, and the woman could not believe she was being given that opportunity directly. Her son would have a future. She would miss him dearly, but he would be okay. She wanted the best for him. And this was nothing short of an honour.
The kid was sitting there. He was staring at his mom, wondering what she'd say. It was an interesting turn this day had taken, but he was always up for an adventure. He had heard about Dema. The other kids in the village said it was haunted. He loved haunted. He liked the idea.
And then, his mom smiled. Her eyes were watery. "You can take him. God bless you, sir, you can take him. Please save him from this fate. We can live, but this is no life for a boy as bright as him and I know that. You can offer him a better life than I can, that's for sure."
They arranged some things and waited for her husband to come back. It was near sunset when the man came back and was asked the question by his wife and a bishop in his house. Although it took him a few minutes, in the end, he agreed. It was early, the boy was only ten, but he would eventually leave the house for a better life, why not help him get it now?
In the end, the boy was excited. He packed only a few things because the bishop said all he needed would be given to him by Dema, but he could take something he held dear. So he took a few of his wooden toys in a small backpack and some clothes for the journey.
Once at the door, and after a few tearful goodbyes and see you later, they walked out. They travelled for a few hours under the purple sky, the sunset shining through a blanket of clouds. At some point, the man turned around and stared at the boy.
"What is your name?"
The boy smiled brightly, suddenly aware he hadn't introduced himself. That should always be the start of a good adventure, he thought.
"I'm Tyler, nice to meet you."
The bishop was on his way back from a long journey, preaching about the ways of Vialism to faraway villages. It was his first time coming home after two months of visiting different places, but it was not his first time being out on a mission. In fact, he was the one who travelled the most in Dema. There were nine bishops, and the rest usually had other tasks. One of them was the head, and the others followed. His duty was that of spreading the word to faraway lands, recruiting people, and talking to them about their City of Faith, their monastery, and their temple of Death. And Tyler was fascinated with his infinite stories about previous missions, about people, their lives, their homes, he told Tyler about what he told them, the different faiths he encountered, how wide and varied the world was. Beyond Dema, beyond the Fjord, beyond all he knew, there was a world, a world so big it had infinite opportunities and possibilities, and it was all wide open for them to explore.
The man said he liked it, actually. Exploring. Discovering. Which was why he chose that path in the way of Light, to travel, discover, preach to the faraway corners of the world. He learned so much during his trips he always felt he came back a greater man, a greater mind, a greater life.
During the trip, Tyler asked a lot of questions. He was just an eight-year-old boy, after all. The way to Dema was a long one, after all, and his mind was filled with wonder and curiosity. All he could muster was inquires about the new world that was presenting itself to him. How is Dema? What are bishops? How far are we? Why is your tunic red? Among others. But Tyler realized he had hit the nail with three particular questions.
"You know my name, but what is yours?" was his first.
His answer was late, for the man pondered for a while. He and Tyler had stopped for the night and were gathered around a small fire. They had some dinner and were now about to go to sleep. It had been two days of journey and they were about to reach Dema.
Tyler didn’t know that it could take only one day, two at most, but he was delaying the trip. It was hard travelling with a kid. But it was entertaining, at least.
"I have many names", the bishop finally replied, "but you can call me Andre."
Andre said he enjoyed Tyler’s company, and Tyler enjoyed his.
"Andre," Tyler repeated, savouring the name. He didn't know why, but it felt important, unique, special. He felt as if that word was a secret between them. A word only he and Andre knew.
And it was true, except he didn't know it at the time. But Andre had grown fond of the kid in the short time they had spent on their journey and had revealed his real name to him. It was only fair, Andre would later explain to him. It was only fair he knew Tyler's name and Tyler knew his. None of them knew it at the time, but one day they would know each other as basically father and son. Not long since then.
“What is Vialism?”
It had been a question that had remained in his mind for a while, especially after Andre mentioned his trips, and once he explained it the kid thought it was actually quite nice. Vialism was based on the belief that one should use one’s life and death as a way to impact others, to leave something behind, to be remembered. The greater the impact, the greater the achievement in the eyes of the Light. It meant trying your hardest during your life, inspiring others, and achieving something with the time that was given to you.
And then, once they had reached their greatest point, many took their lives, so that their lives and efforts were perpetually a reminder in everyone’s minds.
He didn’t like the death part.
His worries were put to rest by the man. “Death is not called the afterlife for no reason. It is our second life when we are reborn. And our way of living again, in Dema, is through the minds of the people, through their hearts and memories. This life, these bodies, these years, they are all just our journey to our real life. Once we are gone, all we are is what we have done, what people remember of us. And our bodies become just bones and dust. What really, really matters, is how we live and how we die. Because that’s how we’ll be reborn. Our bones are stripped of our souls in the Towers of Silence, and taken to the afterlife. But we are still here, in the hearts of those who knew us, and the memories of those who knew about us.”
Tyler was quite silent after that.
The third question was a tricky one. Tyler noticed Andre didn't know how to answer it properly.
Somewhere along the third day, they had hit a desert. It was arid and it extended for miles and miles, a small shadow in the distance which Andre explained was Dema. The city, its structures, rising on the horizon.
But the kid soon turned his attention to something else. He noticed that they had taken a detour. Instead of going in a straight line through the fjord, and reaching Dema in less than two days, they had at some point turned left and had been walking along an invisible shore, Dema to their right but never quite leaving their side, just like the moon. Andre explained they were circling the city to reach the South entrance. Dema had many entrances, but new students had to come through the main gates, in the desert. And when Tyler wondered where they were, exactly, and Andre answered they were just outside Dema, but still not there yet, the kid noticed some uncertainty in the man's voice.
Tyler asked the question. Where are we? Not the desert, but where. He didn't know why, but it seemed like an important question at the time. Andre shuffled his raven hair nervously, staring at Tyler with some caution from the corner of his eye, and replied. "They call it Trench", he said. "The place between two places. All that surrounds Dema is part of Trench. The desert, the fjord, the mountains, the river. The city is protected by the Trench, and the outer world is protected from Dema as well."
Why Tyler wondered, but the man replied before he could ask.
"It's a peaceful place. We are far away. People don't need to know about us more than they already do, and what I preach, our affairs as a city are only our own. We are a place of worship and religion, and we need our space as much as the world needs its space away from us."
Something about it worried Tyler. But he ignored it, it was probably just adult talk when they were all weird and talked nonsense.
He instead focused on the structures getting bigger and bigger as they finally approached Dema. A great wall stood high and dark, engulfing the horizon and surrounding the grey buildings within that Tyler could barely distinguish from where he stood. The wall circled the city, a perfectly round structure with a high gate that welcomed the desert. And in the middle of it, arose the silhouette of many grand towers, perfectly spread in threes forming an inner circle within Dema. The tower in the centre was higher than them all, as tall as the sky, enormous, intimidating and splendid. A strong feeling overcame Tyler and suddenly he felt himself trembling slightly. It was fear, it was admiration, it was too much to be expressed.
He would, later on, describe the experience in his mind as magnificent.
As they approached the gate, he could still recall Andre’s words and his smooth and proud voice as he said: “Welcome home, Tyler.”
He was home. And it was the beginning.
Dema was divided into districts. Each district was guided by a bishop. There were Nine, as his mother had told him. The bishop guided them, inspired them, taught them, and cared for them. They were his subjects, and they held him as dear as he did them. It was a beautiful relationship, symbiotic to say the least, and they were all peaceful. It worked. It was calm and nice, and people were happy.
As soon as he arrived, Tyler was taught all this by Andre. He marvelled and asked as many questions as popped into his head, wide-eyed and drinking the view and the new world that was being presented to him. He was taken to see the place in detail. Its streets, its buildings, its farms, the chapels, the divisions. And everyone was so calm, so focused, so at hand with their tasks and so at peace with their lives, Tyler felt inspired. He wanted to know more.
He told Andre as much. The bishop chuckled and informed there would be no problem. He would teach Tyler himself, the ways of Dema and their way of life. Tyler would be one of his denizens, after all. And Andre would be his tutor in this newfound world.
The first few years were happy.
Tyler missed his family dearly, and they wrote to each other frequently, but he was happy. At first, it took him a while to get used to his new life, but soon he fell into a calm routine and grew comfortable with it, since it was very similar to his life in the fjord. It was mindless, peaceful, tasks that you could depend on to be the same the next day. Praying in the chapel at dawn, farming in the morning, lunch at noon, religious studies in the afternoon, praying in the chapel at dusk, dinner and going to bed right after nightfall.
And many dawns passed, and so did many dusks.
The reliable tasks became monotonous, and being a child was barely a distant memory in the past, but it didn't mean he had lost who he was. Tyler grew up fast, but the colours and the sounds that painted his life brightly were still there, in his mind. He was still young, and he liked playing from time to time, or humming songs from his childhood as he tended to his crops, but now he was mature, well-read, responsible, and dependable. The bishops liked him. A smart kid. He quickly learnt about their religion, and despite his initial reservations, he was soon taken by the current of Vialism, just like the other citizens.
It was peaceful.
That was until the head of the Nine passed away.
Tyler was barely fourteen when it happened. Dema was in a deep turmoil. It had happened, one of the Nine dying, but it was not frequent and it was never the head. Andre had explained to him the ways of Dema; the Nine carried out their divine tasks for 52 years before someone else took their place. They all rotated at the same time. An entirely new group would take over once the cycle had taken a new turn, and the past bishops would retire. It was always like this. But it also meant no one in Dema had ever experienced something like this, because the past Nine had finished their mandate before being replaced, and the current bishops had been there for over 25 years now.
So in the end, no one knew what would happen.
There was a massive gathering to honour the deceased.
The chapel was full of people, yet in absolute silence. It was the middle of the day, but it felt as dark as midnight.
However, no one needed to talk to know what the rest were thinking. They were all equally lost. No one there had seen enough to experience such a tragedy, and everyone was wondering who would be the new head of the city.
It felt as if everyone was collectively holding their breath when a hooded figure stepped into the front. The rest of the Nine were standing behind, a statue of a faceless man rising at the back. That day, there were only seven in the back, and Tyler recognized Andre's dark hair beneath the red cloak as he stood in front of the crowd. He spoke, loud and clear, from the depths of his shadows.
"In light of this tragic event, we have taken a vote. The Eldest shall now lead us and guide us in the divine path, as many have done before him and many will do as well. The City of Faith now has a new leader, and a disciple shall occupy his place as part of the Nine. We stand as one, and we will go through this as one."
His words echoed as realization dawned upon them. The Eldest. Many knew him as Blurryface, too. Tyler had gathered, from rumours among the citizens, that the mask the bishop wore was due to an accident. A fire, they assumed. Half his face was dark as night and his forehead, eyelids and nose were white as chalk. He wore a transparent mask to cover the mark of death. Tyler imagined it like a skull, holes deep and hollow and pitch black within the white bones. He had never seen him, though, since Blurryface’s district was different from his. All across from Dema, he was told.
But it was all rumours. They weren’t allowed into other districts, and not many people spoke at lunch. It was a peaceful time, and rumours were just rumours.
When Andre stepped back into the line, the Nine began to scatter into the different doors that led to the chapel. Each door led to a hallway that led to their districts, so it was easier to come and go without any distractions. People stood up and followed in line, going back to their chores. There wouldn’t be any more words, everyone knew it. Blurryface wouldn’t present himself to his subjects. Dema was a religious place, not a political one, after all, and no one needed to know anything more than what they had been told. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Things were one way and there was no need for words in an unchanging world.
When Tyler stepped into his district, following his peers, Andre was waiting next to the doorway. He signalled the kid, and Tyler stepped out of line because he knew the bishop wanted to talk. The man looked at him from head to feet first, regarding him as if it was the first time he saw him. Tyler understood; it had been many years, and from time to time it was strange noticing how each other had aged in that time. The man cleared his throat and said:
“Please accompany me to my study.”
Tyler followed suit.
He had been there many times. It was a small room, with a desk, a bookshelf and a chair, nothing more and nothing less. Andre had always told him humility was a virtue, and having less meant having more, for it was the soul one needed to tend to. The walls were grey and there was a small window next to the bookshelf, for the study was on the second floor of the main building of the district. Andre sat in his chair and instructed the teenager to do the same. When Tyler sat down, Andre sighed.
“I have a proposition to make you.”
Tyler inhaled.
“I know these times seem dark, but death in Dema is also rebirth. Everyone leaves a mark behind, and the stronger the impact, the greater the life lived. And now, with Nills taking over as bishop, he has big shoes to fill. Everything is a cycle, everyone has a role to take. So it is only natural that now, someone has to fill his shoes as well, as a disciple.”
“I understand,” Tyler nodded.
“This is a big thing I am asking of you. You already have your duties, I know this. But you have also shown promise. You are smart, dedicated, and a born leader. I have known you for many years, Tyler, and you are old enough now to take the next step. You should seize your knowledge and intelligence and put it into a greater cause, I see you have a great potential for what is to come. And this is why I want to propose you to the Nine as a new disciple.”
Tyler was shocked for a minute. He had never seen such a thing coming. It was one thing being a student on his way to being a priest, and another completely different being a student on his way to becoming a bishop. One day, he would have an even greater role to accomplish. Everyone in Dema aspired for a brighter future, a bigger impact, and an eventful life. And this… this was as far as you could come in the City.
Something fluttered in his chest.
“I… don’t know what to say. I am honoured, I am…”
“What do you say? Do you accept? It is nothing certain, but we were required to choose someone to take the new place, so I thought of you.”
“Yes, absolutely yes. I accept. Thank you, thank you so much,” Tyler said eagerly. “This is… such a big step, on my way to Vialism. Thank you.”
Andre chuckled.
They talked for a while since Tyler was full of questions. They felt once again as if he was a child, a kid asking his new tutor everything about his new life. The bishop was relieved to see the boy had not lost his spark and curiosity, but that it had rather been dormant. He was fond of Tyler, and he was proud.
When he left, Tyler felt a lightness in his chest. He was motivated. He had come to like his peace and monotony, but having something to look forward to was even more amazing. He would be a disciple. He would learn and grow and turn into someone he could be proud of.
He could not wait to write a letter to his mother.
As he stepped out of the building and headed towards the school for his religious studies, he noticed a light rain was covering everything with dew. It was only the beginning, the sky told them there would be a storm during the night.
He worried about his crops and wondered if he would be able to check on them in the morning. But nothing could suppress the spring in his step.
He was not aware it was the beginning of the end.
A light rain before the storm.
Everything in Dema changed.
At first, it was just a couple of rules. More hours of religious studies, a stricter schedule. It was acceptable, and even sort of expected. Everyone complied dutifully in spite of how these measures could affect them. But then, as weeks and months passed, these changes began to overstep the boundaries of human interaction: curfew, no recreation, no social gatherings, no talking whatsoever with other districts; in fact, not even with the same district. They wanted absolute silence and concentration. No one was allowed to talk during chores or at meals. Talking was a distraction from the way of Vialism, and Dema had abruptly changed its approach regarding the religion. It wasn't just doing what was best, living peacefully, preaching kindness and dedication. Instead, it had shifted into overachieving, extreme pressure, dedication, and giving as much as you could and sometimes even beyond. Dema was now focused purely on results, no matter how.
The Path of Light had always been a sacred one, but death had never been put above life ever before, not even in Vialism. What once was eternal life, now was a dreadful goal. It wasn’t about inspiring others, like Andre had taught him. Once it might have been, but now the sacred books had been changing lately, and Tyler’s mind was twisting in ways he didn’t like. Inspiring fear was a way of earning respect, being exhaustive would achieve greatness, dedicating your entire life towards death instead of living it at its fullest would bring about eternal greatness.
Still, even though it seemed extreme, Tyler respected it. Not because it inspired him respect, but rather because he didn't know if doubting was allowed. In the end, what did he know? What made him more qualified to express his opinion above that of the Council's? So he remained silent, just like they wanted, just like they encouraged.
For his part, he was incredibly busy, so he really focused on his chores so that he didn't have time to ask himself questions he would never have an answer for, questions he might never be able to ask without punishment. He had been accepted by the council of the Nine as a part of them and had begun his training as a disciple. Tending to his crops was reduced to only once a week, his days instead being dedicated exclusively to religious studies and praying in the chapel. His days were almost sunless, tucked away in a classroom or an office or under the neon lights of the chapel, a fake sun that made his skin grow paler under the shadow of the statue that rose as an altar.
He was forced to worship day and night. Wednesdays were days of Silence, and talking was purely forbidden; Fridays were his days of tending to the field, the only day he was allowed to see the sun for hours and enjoy the fresh air of the outside; Sundays were days of fasting, silence and introspection, spending the entire day at the chapel and nothing more, not even studying, dedicating his every second in meditation in hopes to achieve a higher state of mind; and Mondays were days of studying, entering the classroom at sunrise right after breakfast and leaving at twilight just for supper before bed. He was tired, absolutely exhausted, but he repeated to himself day after day that he had wanted this, that this was what they all went through, these were the ways of Dema.
He couldn't ask Andre if it had always been like that, though. His training had been put in the hands of Blurryface himself, alleging he wanted to make sure the new disciple was well-educated and acclimated to the new rhythm. And he was not allowed to talk to Andre. Tyler had been entirely removed from his district and moved to The Eldest's. It was so he could keep a closer eye on his progress, Blurryface had said, but Tyler felt rather suffocated. He wasn't allowed to talk to anyone in other districts, not even bishops, and suddenly he had felt absolutely alone and desolated.
He felt as if he had been thrown in a pit which was being filled with water and everyone was expecting him to just float, the problem being his feet had been clasped with a chain to the floor.
Or maybe not a chain, but a noose. Fastened around his neck. And he was not only drowning but being strangled as well.
At some point, Tyler wondered if maybe being happy was considered an interference and a distraction from Vialism, like everything else, and therefore unacceptable as well.