Esk's Request

written by Victoria

Kerrigor paced his study. Grey, ghostlike flames licked hungrily at the fireplace grate. His guest was late. Kerrigor stopped at his dark mahogany desk and trailed his white-gloved fingers over its dusty surface. Years. It had been years since he’d had to entertain one of the other gods here, and Esk had the audacity to be late. Kerrigor sighed. He moved to his comfortable, plush chair, and sat behind his desk. He was patient. He could wait.

Within the hour, Esk arrived. Purple planets, stars, and mists whirled into the chair seated across from Kerrigor, flowing and shifting in chaotic patterns. Kerrigor cordially folded his hands in front of him — the table was notably free of dust, now — and leaned forward.

“Welcome.” Kerrigor’s smooth, somewhat fearsome voice emanated from the deer skull perched atop his body.

“Greetings,” came the response as the mass of stardust took shape. A handsome human with silver eyes and a soft smile gazed across the table at Kerrigor.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Esk?” Kerrigor inquired. Straight to business. It was easier that way, for him. Golden stars seemed to be falling from Esk’s clothes and hair. They stained the grey floor and chair with lovely hues of red and blue where they landed. Kerrigor internally wondered how he’d get it out of the carpet.

“Do you get many visitors?” Esk smiled, and the aura of magic and wonder that surrounded him glowed brighter than the hearthfire. Kerrigor shook his head. Esk chuckled softly. He sounded a bit nervous, perhaps, as he looked around the small study. Kerrigor was silent.

“I can tell you like to get to the point,” Esk mused.

“Your request to meet is of great interest to me.” Kerrigor’s black eye sockets kindled small flames. Esk ran his fingers through the galaxies in his hair. The more Kerrigor looked at him, the worse Esk seemed to look. As though he were unraveling. Esk took a deep breath.

“The elves and dwarves that Varos and Duros made have fought nonstop since their creation. The world is consumed by blind hatred. We sit here unable to interfere and watch as our children destroy each other.” Esk seemed to hesitate. Kerrigor looked impassively at him, and gestured for Esk to continue.

“This must end. I have no place in the pantheon right now. Hejong, Remedia, Anashta, the others — everyone has something to look after, something to cherish and grow. I don’t. Ilisara’s children do not wield magic. So long as they are absorbed in fighting each other, they never will.” Esk’s voice was rising in pitch. “I feel their suffering, their pain, their anguish. They cannot grasp the threads of time and peer into other timelines. They cannot see the gleam of arcana amongst the bloodshed. They cannot grow, evolve, reach heights beyond their meaningless war. I cannot stand by as the world stagnates and dies. I see a future where us gods turn upon each other for the failures of our world — “

“The gods?” Kerrigor interrupted. Esk looked like he was about to cry. Rivulets of stardust trickled down his cheeks.

“You do not mean to tell me that you have seen a future where the pantheon fights amongst itself?” Kerrigor’s voice was keen. Since the titan had created them, they’d never fought. Everyone had their purpose. Everyone had their domain. Everyone was happy with the world. Everyone… except Esk.

“I have. In the future, I see Vandun and Arth as overlords of darkness. The rest of the pantheon will be their slaves.” Esk’s voice cracked.

“No,” Kerrigor said. “A god cannot enslave another. We are all equal in power.”

“You are wrong. One domain can be stronger than another. We’re all fragments of a whole, pieces that combine to create one coherent divine sculptor. Our domains have cracks that we fill effortlessly for each other, without noticing. Think of Duros’ power to shape valleys in the earth, and how Anashta fills them to make rivers.” Esk pressed onward. “Those cracks make us vulnerable. You are the only one who is different from us all. Death is absolute, and you share rights to it with no one.”

Kerrigor, were he capable of looking startled, would look startled.

"What, precisely, are you getting at?" Kerrigor inquired.

"You could kill one of us." Esk swallowed.

Kerrigor had never thought about taking another deity’s life. The thought made his skin-that-wasn’t-skin crawl.

“No. I can only take the life of a being who is lesser than I. Thus, gods cannot be killed,” Kerrigor said slowly.

“If you cannot be convinced otherwise...” Esk started. The swirling nebulas in his chest fluttered. "Answer me this: what if I empowered you? Could you do it then?"

“In theory,” Kerrigor mused, “it might be possible. Why do you ask such disturbing questions, Esk?” Kerrigor hoped that he didn't sound as baffled as he felt. "I will not-"

“Wait,” Esk’s voice hitched. “Listen. I want to do something to ensure the pantheon never destroys itself. I plan to bring magic to Ilisara, and give Ilisara a chance against Vandun and Arth. They can only corrupt what we can create. I am going to bring other life here; people, creatures, things from other worlds that have prevailed against darkness before. Things that he cannot spoil.”

Kerrigor stared at Esk in silence. Esk stared back. Kerrigor folded his arms over his chest. Esk waited.

“Why bring your intentions to me, rather than the entire pantheon?” Kerrigor said, at long last. "How can I possibly help you?"

"I want you to kill me.” Tears splashed from Esk's face like falling stars. His form blurred a bit and Kerrigor could feel the other deity’s immense sorrow as if it were a tangible presence.

“All of the things I want to achieve... they require every ounce of my being, which I cannot give without your help. My life is a worthy cost for the saving of our world. I need you to orchestrate it.” Esk looked at Kerrigor pleadingly.

Kerrigor shook his head. “I cannot kill a god.”

“Cannot, or will not?” Esk shot back.

“Esk,” Kerrigor began. This was not what he’d expected to deal with today. “If it is truly what you wish, I can try. I think it’s absolutely bizarre, but I will, if only to satisfy my own curiosity about whether or not it can be done. The living world is little of my concern anyway so long as it exists to provide me souls to reap — a fact I think you are taking advantage of.”

“Not taking advantage of!” Esk breathed out slowly. “Only… it seemed… logical to come to you.”

Kerrigor felt mildly amused. He found it enjoyable when the other gods were flustered in his presence. “I suppose.” Kerrigor leaned back in his chair, considering.