Diable Rouge

"It feels like the day before something important. It feels like the first snow of the season that sticks...it's how I'll always feel like a failure, in the back of my head..."

 Time.

Time is a funny, fickle thing. It passes so quickly, yet never fast enough. We spend our lives willing it to go faster, and once it does, we beg it to stop. We are never satisfied…always wishing for more time, but never savoring the time we have.

Time.

It morphs the land and those who inhabit it. Even the tallest stone castle is truly just sand - time will take it and turn it to ruins. Lands come and go, rulers along with it. At one point, you are infinite, invulnerable, unforgettable - and then time takes you, and with it, your memory. Over time, your headstone, once covered in carefully plucked flowers, is left bare. Time covers it with moss, ivy, dirt, and eventually, it disappears altogether, taken by the earth again.

Time.

Fleeting - that is existence, that is life, and, to a point, that is death - one day, we are all forgotten.

Diable Rouge is no different.

Here lies ____________. A lover, a _______, a ________.

His headstone can barely be seen now. Thirty-seven years is a long time - could he really have expected to be remembered for that long? Could he really have expected to be loved that long? He’d been forgotten.

Ah, time. We are all forgotten, aren’t we?

To be remembered is to be loved, and Rou had been surrounded by it, long ago, when he still had time. He still remembers the first time he saw her in her glittering prime. Her voice echoed through the eerie quiet of the forest - “Hello?”

Her sweet voice, a light in the dark, kindness in the neverending cruelty that is life. She convinced him to go home that night, and he asked her to come with him. The rest is history, as they so often say. It is laughable - isn’t it only history if someone is around to talk about it? They’d had children, they had built something together, and then time took him. He never even got to say goodbye.

Sometimes, she comes to him in dreams. Her honeyed voice, her blushing cheeks, her gown of peacock feathers, they’re all there. She is so real. After thirty-seven years, it is hard to believe in a reality that is not shrouded in death. Rou reaches for her in these moments, goes to embrace her like he once did, and then…

Gone.

Karma. It must be, for the way he left her stranded in the material plane. She had no one but herself to lead her through the darkness that is grief. It must’ve felt like a cruel joke, that type of pain. When he lost Kaiode, he had…her. He couldn’t be there for her when he finally crossed over.

Her.

AuroraElis. His Aurora.

It’s the first time he’s thought of her real name in years, he realizes. Had he forgotten it? She had haunted him for three decades now…but, the dreams usually came and went quickly and happened sparingly. Every few years, at most.

The last six months had been different.

Every night she comes to him. Every night he reaches for her, going for the embrace, desperate to touch her again. But then, her face twists and her body contorts. The skin peels off her bone - her glitter turns to dust. She screams: “Rou, help!” Desperately, the chaser reaches for her, he is close enough to touch, close enough to aid her, and then…

He awakes.

Sweat pours from his skin as he tries to calm his heavied breath. Tears stream from his eyes and he tries to wipe them away. Fuck. He sighs, relieved that the dream has subsided. With a groan, he rises, looks over to his mother and Kaiode, who he’s spent most of his time in the afterlife with. They still slumber…they are never quite as restless as him. Maybe it’s because they died with fewer regrets, fewer things left undone and unsaid, fewer doors left wide open.

It is hard to tell when day is here in the afterlife, as the moon hangs in permanent limbo on the horizon. But after the dream he just had, Rou isn’t very tired anymore. He walks to Kaiode and licks him softly on his head. Despite being dead for over thirty years, Kaiode manages to look the same as he did that fateful day - young and starry-eyed. The day his adopted child died is still burned into the chaser’s memory, though it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Sometimes, Rou will remember the moment and his breath will catch, he’ll look over his shoulder to see if Kaiode is close by, and he always is. The pair had certainly made up for lost time - they were best friends and did most everything in the afterlife together. They played in the rushing rivers, ate the lush greenery, galloped through the rolling fields, sang lullabies in the shade of the weeping willows. For the longest time, it was just them.

Rou’s mind drifts from his adopted child to the one of his own flesh and blood.

Phoebus.

The child was but a yearling when Rou passed. He never truly got to know the boy of fire, only that he was ambitious and that he wanted to be just like his father. A shiver runs down Rou’s spine. What a curse it would be for his progeny to have grown up like him - a coward. Rou had died before he could be anything more than that. He was always running away before shit got too bad, looking for a way out at every turn. The only good thing Rou had ever done was love, but love is so often not enough.

If it was, Rou thought apathetically, Heartbreak, grief…death would be mere fantasy.

The morning is quiet, wind whistling softly through the wisps of the willow tree. The sky dances in a cacophony of hues - magenta, cyan, peach, and merigold - bouncing off the moon and reflecting onto the emerald landscape. The palette of the afterlife is soothing, changing only ever so often, but nothing can calm Rou’s racing mind.

Kaiode is still resting peacefully as Rou gazes, lost in his own thoughts. His mother, however, must’ve sensed his discomfort. Her eyes blink open dreamily and she raises her head from the small of her grandchild’s back. She cocks it curiously, staring deep into her son’s eyes and searching for some kind of hint to what he is thinking.

“Rou…what’s wrong?” She asks, lifting herself carefully from the ground as to not disturb Kaiode’s slumber.

“Nothing.” Rou lies, shaking his head and turning his face away from his mother. He hears the grass rustle beneath her hooves as she inches closer.

“Rou…” She coos, coaxing him to look at her. He turns his head to meet her gaze with his good eye. She smiles. “I know that face. What’s on your mind?”

Rou sighs. He knows he can’t lie to his mother. And really, what would be the point? They have an eternity together, he might as well fess up. “I’m having…those dreams again. I’ve been having them for a while. She’s haunting me, mom. I think she hates me for leaving her alone there.”

Rosso moves closer to him, gently nuzzling his cheek. It doesn’t matter how old he gets - his mother’s gentle touch never fails to soothe him. “She doesn’t hate you, Rou,” She murmurs, pressing close to his side. “That I can assure you of. Why you’re having these dreams though…” She trails off, brows furrowing. “...that I can’t tell you.”

The chaser doesn’t know why he’s having the dreams, but he surely wants to figure it out. Is Aurora finally forgetting him? Is something wrong and she needs him? He wishes he could see her somehow, wishes he could ask her. As if reading his mind, Rosso smiles. “You know, there’s plenty of magicians around here in the afterlife. Maybe someone could give you some insight?”


***

Diable Rouge bid his family farewell later that afternoon.

“I’ll be back.” He promised, nuzzling his mother and son. Rosso had smiled sweetly, but behind her eyes, Rou could sense her apprehension at his words. He wasn’t sure why she looked at him like that, but it was as if she knew something he didn’t. It confused him, but he didn’t ask her what was wrong.

Oh, the chaser. If only he had known what was coming…maybe he would’ve spent more time saying goodbye. But, there’s never enough time and always too much left unsaid…so it goes.

***

It takes Diable Rouge a week to find the magician he needs to talk to. The afterlife, while being easy to traverse, doesn’t make for easy locating. The evening that changes the chaser is cool and clear. The ancient forest’s oak and sycamore trees dance quietly in the breeze, as if beckoning Rou inside. He takes a deep breath and enters the wood and once he’s there, it doesn’t take him long to find who he’s looking for.

The old stallion paces through the trees, winding back and forth. He speaks in discordant whispers to himself, giving a deranged giggle every once and awhile. The stallion is stark white, like freshly fallen snow. His tail is cropped short and he dons thick dreadlocks in his mane. His eyes are an eerie shade of obsidian - there are no whites, no flecks of color in his irises. They are so dark that at times, it looks as if there is nothing in the sockets at all. It is hard for Rou to keep track of the madman - he trots, canters, gallops, and stops seemingly at random. He’s the phantom of this dark wood - here one moment and gone the next.

Rou has heard of this magician before…he goes by the name of Elminster. Rumor has it that he had made a pact with an evil deity to gain his powers. However, these types of pacts never go quite right, and the deity drove him to insanity. He heard voices, he saw visions, and eventually, the madness drove him to jump off a cliff. As a punishment, the deity continued to haunt him in the afterlife, when he was supposed to be “safe.” The voices, the visions, they all became worse here. The deity vowed to torture the poor soul for eternity and his only respite from the horrors was when someone came to ask for help.

The alabaster stallion continues to weave at various paces. Rou picks up his own pace, good eye honed in on the specter. “Hey!” The chaser shouts. “Hey, stop!”

Elminster halts suddenly, turning to face Rou with a crazed look in his eyes. He giggles for a minute, his crooked smile warping his face. “Want our help, does he?” Elminster sneers, trotting around the chaser to get a good look at him. “Missing his lover-girl, is he?”

Diable Rouge follows the magician’s gaze. “How did you…” He begins to question, confused as to how Elminster even knows why he’s here. Elminster chortles again, quickly coming towards Rou’s face. He stares deep into the chaser’s eyes, as if looking for something within them.

“We can give you the answers you seek!” He whispers quietly before bolting off again with another sickening titter. Rou jolts, startled by all the sudden moving.

“W-WAIT!” He yells, sprinting after the magician. They weave in and out of the forest, Elminster leading and Rou trailing behind. It had been awhile since he’d run like this, and his chest grew hot and tight as he followed the phantom.

They ran for what felt like forever before Elminster finally stopped. At the forest’s edge lay a clearing that drops sharply into a cliff. The white stallion looks over the cliffside, then turns back to Rou, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “See what we see.”

Diable Rouge is hesitant, but his curiosity gets the best of him. He walks slowly towards Elminster and peers off the precipice. It is…

Black - a dark abyss that threatens to swallow both of them whole if they get too close. It is nothing like the rest of this realm - calm and colorful and peaceful. Instead, the chasm gives off a wretched aura. It tugs at Rou’s heart as a wave of sadness rushes over him. Had some god forgotten to finish this part of the afterlife? Or was this purposeful?

Diable Rouge backs away from the ravine, eyes now locked on Elminster. The magician stares back at him. “Do you see what we see?” He questions, moving from the pit and towards Rou.

“A void.” Rou says plainly, never quite meeting Elminster’s harsh gaze.

“NO!” Elminster scolds. “We see…opportunity.”

Rou raises his eyebrow. What is he talking about? The chaser steadily moves back to the cliffside, and peers over again. What was once a blank nothingness now looks like…

Life.

Aurora’s gown of peacock feathers, her saccharine voice, her warm embrace. Phoebus’ flaming armor, his beaming smile. The meadow where he first met Ellyse. The mountain where he had seen the vision of Kaiode. Hyaline’s rolling fields, where he embraced Solace one last time before his death. They are all there, beckoning him to come back.

Diable Rouge bursts into tears, turning away from the magician and from the cliff.

“Lover-girl wants you back.” The magician says. “Look again.”

The chaser can’t bear to see what the magician sees. So what if Aurora wants him back? So what if she misses him? He is dead and she is alive and there is nothing he can do to let her know the twisted kind of peace he has found here. There is nothing he can do to heal her broken heart or fix the void the last thirty-seven years had left on her psyche. Rou goes to walk away, until he hears Elminster growl.

“I said LOOK.”

As if commanded, Rou turns. He moves to the cliffside, no control over his own body. The chaser peers into the chasm and he sees Aurora once more, tears streaming down her face as she stares at his decaying corpse. Buzzards pluck and tear at his flesh, gobbling him down piece by piece. “NOOO!” She screams.

And then the vision is gone.

It takes a moment for Rou to realize that he isn’t breathing; his eyes are widened; his chest is tight; and he is pouring sweat. Elminster’s maniacal laughing brings him back to this reality, and Rou turns to see the stallion rolling on the ground with laughter. Trying to ignore the rage boiling within him at this sight, Rou questions him.

“Why is she seeing that? Why am I dreaming of her? Give me some answers you madman!”

After a minute, Elminster stops his howling laughter and rises to his feet. “We told you,” He says flatly. “Lover-girl wants you back…your dreams and her nightmares are crucial evidence.”

Diable Rouge doesn’t say anything to this. He stops looking at the magician and peers back into the fissure. Once again, it appears as a void - no life, just an endless chasm of death. “So…that’s it? She misses me and that’s why I’m having these dreams. There’s nothing I can do to stop them.” Rou sighs.

“We didn’t say that,” Elminster coos, coming close to the chaser’s side. “A second chance, to make things up to her, to stop her pain…that’s what you seek, yes?”

Rou looks to Elminster. “...y-yes. I’ve wanted to make it up to her for thirty-seven years. I just…left her there,” Tears well up in his eyes again. “I wanted to see Kaiode and mom again so bad I just ran away.”

Elminster snickers. “We can bring you back to her.”

Rou’s ears perk up. “How?”

Elminster begins to circle Diable Rouge again. He lets out a chorus of sickening laughter. “We bring you back…on one condition,” He snorts. “If you die again, there is no coming back here.” He gestures to the world around him. It doesn’t take long for Rou to understand - if he goes back and dies again, there is no afterlife. There is no Kaiode and there is no Rosso. If he dies, he dies - no golden chariot, no fanfare, just nothingness.

However, in life there is opportunity that the afterlife doesn’t provide. Rou knows this, and surely Elminster does too. The opportunity to see Aurora, to change his reputation, to fix the things he broke…it is an opportunity not awarded to everyone. “What’s in it for you?” Rou questions. There’s always a price…always.

“We help you, the visions and voices stop momentarily,” Elminster sneers. “And nothing is ever done without regret…without pain. Your pain sustains us.”

“What do you mean by that?” Rou asks, tilting his head curiously at the magician.

“You go back, you remember. You go back, they forget.” With the nod of his head, Elminster shows a vision of Rosso and Kaiode. Ah, this was the catch - Diable Rouge would go back and live, but Kaiode and Rosso would forget him. Elminster knew this would pain the chaser forever…even if he knew that his absence would not harm the pair.

“Okay…” Rou says, thinking it over. “Can I say goodbye to them one last time?”

“NO!” Elminster snaps harshly. “One. Time. Offer. Take it or leave it.”

Diable Rouge closes his eyes, heart beating quickly in his chest as the tears stream steadily down his face. It is his one chance to change things - to do something right. Rosso and Kaiode might not remember him, he would never see them again, but this was his only opportunity. Pain flickers in his heart as he finally mutters the words.

“Do it.”

Elminster begins to giggle. It is quiet at first, then slowly crescendos into a symphony of dissonant, sinister cackles. The sky around Diable Rouge shifts from a myriad of colors to a calamitous shade of ebony. The moon, the stars, they all disappear from the sky, as if they never existed at all. The magician’s black eyes roll over white, a terrible scream bursting from his lips. He lifts onto his hind legs and collides into the chaser, sending him tumbling into the chasm. Shrill howls and laughter follow the chaser as he descends into the abyss.

***

Birth is much more painful the second time around.

The first time, it is reserved for your mother. She does all the hard work, manages all the pain - all you have to do is emerge. However, this time around, all the pain is saved for Diable Rouge. It is a searing, burning type of pain that causes him to writhe in agony. His skin feels as if it is being ripped and torn apart, much like the vision Aurora had seen. With each passing moment, the torture becomes worse and worse. He wonders if he had been tricked somehow, and Elminster had, in truth, sent him to some kind of hell to be abused for eternity.

Eventually, however, the pain of rebirth turns into a dull ache. The neverending darkness is cut with a bright, white light. The burning and searing are soothed with the frigid winter cold. One aspect of Rou’s suffering ends, for another to begin.

Now, all the chaser has is…time.

"...no matter where I've been, the future feels bright, the glow of the city. Out across the great plains with the closer I get, the further I feel away. I can stay here in the darkness, feels like I'm wandering in circles for days. We may never reach the gates, I'll keep walking anyway, I'm no closer to heaven." 

The Devil was evil, mad―but I was the devil's wife.

She will wonder, later, why fate choose to bring them together.
Why the angel materialized in front of her, blood dripping from her throat, and why Gail knew, so immediately, that she wanted her to stay. Before she even had time to draw the conscious conclusion, she was drawn to her. Perhaps it was the savagery of her wound, but more likely it was something else, something inscrutable, like recognizing like.
Or it’s as simple as her brand. Gail knows such artwork anywhere.
Regardless, she is quick to shield the mare, an uncharacteristic test of her strange mix of resistance and power to him. She doesn’t know if it will work, but suddenly knows she must try.

The angel says her name, and eyes flutter closed at Gail’s word. And then her valid question. Gail doesn’t know the specifics of their link, she knows only of its existence, could sense it about her. She doesn’t know how far it extends – perhaps he will possess Ryatah, and she will see those eyes fly open.
“Then be quiet,” she says, and then takes her own advice. It is still, here, and she can quiet it further behind this shield, until there is only the faintest sound of breathing. She holds her. She waits. She isn’t sure what she’s waiting for until she feels it – a shift in Ryatah’s form, sensed more then seen, and she knows he’s there.
A moment, and it’s gone. She has no doubt he’ll return, but thinks they have a short amount of time.
“He’s gone,” she says. She doesn’t know how much Ryatah sensed him – how much he made his presence known to her, in these violations.
“I’m sorry to keep you here,” she says, then laughs – as if she was a poor hostess. Which is she, perhaps. Holding her hostage, but only briefly. A small crime.
“It’s been emptier here, lately, and I’ve quite wanted to meet you.”

Gail