Story The Mirror's Fate

[Tangerine]

The Mirror's Fate


I am the Brammimond, and this is an account of my doings and whereabouts from my awakening before the defeat of Nergal on the Dread Isle to shortly after the Disturbance of Bern.


Sleep was not exactly sleep. Eyes closed, laying in the darkness of my chamber, I had observed events across the continent since the day I placed the last seal. Nothing caught much attention from me until a man too powerful to just die chose to throw himself into the Dark. I might have chosen to silence him myself, but soon sleep ended, and I met the boy, the girl, and the lout. Their presence was unexpected, and looking upon them was strange at first, but the unfettered interactions were not unwelcome. After a certain incident during the Scouring, only a few had been permitted to be seen by me, usually only from within the Eight's number. (Elimine attempted at some point to prevent Durban from interacting further with me, but her attempts failed and the rumblings continued.)


Athos intended for me to meet Roland's children. Had he come alone, the seals would have been released. I may have even allowed him to borrow my tome. With some study and effort on his part, the seals could have been released without me. And so I came to believe it was for them. I would not be releasing weapons that might tear the continent asunder (again) to these children, or so I thought. Athos helped their case, but it was not settled until the boy truly spoke, not quite like Roland, but Hartmut. I would have given him his blade, but he did not have the key. Instead, I followed them.


Before long, the children stood face to face with their enemy. I watched from the shadows as they cut down puppets, and finally brought down the man holding their strings. The amount of quintessence he had gathered was significant enough to be a threat even as he died, but his control over it was damaged enough for me to take it without much effort at all. As I did, he looked at me. He spoke, and for the first time in a thousand years, I was the one looking into the mirror. "Why? Why did I... want power?" I repeated that question to myself, the first one in over a thousand years.


That man had no power left, not quintessence. Yet...the earth shook and the gate opened, not by magic, but the force of his unending, unimaginable sorrow, sorrow of incomprehensible depth that still reflected off of me, so deep that looking away did not even end it. Lest the world be filled with dragons once again, I could not allow that pain to continue. How, though? How could I, who reflects, sooth this, let alone understand why...


Love. He loved someone, and sought power. It consumed him, and he forgot, ultimately hurting what he loved. I gathered the children and readied myself, not knowing what form my solution might take. I gathered my power (including what I'd taken from Nergal) and unleashed the first emotion I'd felt in this millenium. The half-dragon girl, loved and slain by mistake by the boy, rose from death itself, brimming with power. The rest of that day is merely history. Athos left us, and I returned to my home.


Why did I want power, though? That question and reflection somehow agitated me, an empty vessel. The self had been an afterthought to me, but I wondered what I'd lost. I held on to that man's sorrow, and drew upon it for the next fifteen years to gain what little recollection I have now. What I recovered brought more questions to mind at every step, and at this time they are beyond reasonable number...still, I am not unsatisfied.


At the end of the Scouring, I could easily remember something odd that had been dismissed easily enough. For the duration of the war, I performed my duties without error, tearing apart dragon after dragon along with the time and space around them. It could be said that I took a faint level of pleasure in dispatching them, but in our final battle, I hesitated. The divine weapons would have won the battle, but I did not move until an exchange of blows blew Hartmut back to my position. I placed my hand on his shoulder (this physical contact is the only time that I have actually touched anyone that I can remember fully), and spoke softly, staring at the demon before us.


"Not this one..."


This was also the only time that Hartmut had ever been shocked. Eckesachs dropped from to the ground, and he drew the Binding Blade. The rest of the battle is already documented well enough.


The blade was not a human invention. Its power in battle was comparable to any of our legendary weapons, but the utility beyond that was beyond human knowledge...well, beyond theirs. I was the one who delivered it. I had forgotten, but the day I joined the Eight Generals to repel the dragons, I brought the Binding Blade and the Fire Emblem with me. Human history has no record of this, or my existence at all before then. With that much remembered, I reached for more of my self, but it is...fractured...


I cannot remember living with humans. It is possible that I was discovered abandoned somewhere and rescued by dragons, but I do know that my aptitude for the Dark impressed them, and I studied it with them until my knowledge surpassed even theirs on the subject. When the Scouring began, I thought to leave with the divine dragons, but..she...


Idenn, the demon dragon, was something to me before that war. Sister, friend...lover? And who or what am I? Man, woman, perhaps even a dragon? Still unknown, and not entirely important. I stayed behind with her, and she must have grown worried. She must have known what they might do, and crafted the Binding Blade and the Fire Emblem herself. Just before she was captured, she gave them to me and sent me away.


"End this war."


When they destroyed her soul, hatred and sorrow threatened to overtake me. Anyone else could have used those to their advantage and might have slain every last one of them, but the Dark threatened to swallow me whole...and so, I penned the Apocalypse tome, my Silencing Darkness, my Dark Revelation. I emptied this vessel of myself, delivered the weapon, and ended the war.


As I reached this understanding and began to wonder what use this knowledge could possibly have, the Disturbance of Bern began. I thought once again to intervene, but another of Roland's descendants caught my eye, son of the boy I met and the half-dragon girl. He fought and won hopeless battle after hopeless battle, and even had success in finding and gathering the divine weapons. He reached them all before Bern could, though they might have won my tome and the blade if I had not slain all who attempted to reach them before him. Even without knowing the trust I had placed in him, he fulfilled my wishes without error. Idenn was subdued without being killed, once again, and returned to her (our?) clan.


I returned as well, but only yesterday. Much time was spent in deliberation and gathering whatever lost knowledge I could from the ruins of the dragon temple. I thought for some time that I should keep distance, but...a thousand years was enough of that. After meeting with an elder, I unpacked my things and found her out in the gardens. She turned, and I saw life in her eyes once again. I do not know whether I reflected her or really was myself in that moment, but she spoke, and a tear rolled down my face.


"A warm...breeze..."

[Balcerzak]

Definitely a thought-provoking piece. Aside from a few minor technical gaffes, and perhaps its relative brevity and unconventional style, I can think of few other possible complaints. I feel like it may have played fast and loose with canon, but considering my own entry's standing in that regard I can hardly hold that against it.

[Shadows Interceptor]

An intriguing piece. I like the style you've chosen and feel it fits Brammimond well. I'll definitely be showing this story to my brother, a huge fan of Blazing Sword and Binding Blade.

[Xaos Steel Wing]

I'm not sure if I was fully able to appreciate this piece, as I have not played Binding Blade, but something about it really captured me. There was something dark, mysterious, ancient. I only wish you had gone more into depth at a few parts instead of just saying that it is known to history what happened, though I understand that is not the focus here. The ending, the last few paragraphs, were really well done.

That man had no power left, not quintessence. Yet...the earth shook and the gate opened, not by magic, but the force of his unending, unimaginable sorrow, sorrow of incomprehensible depth that still reflected off of me, so deep that looking away did not even end it. Lest the world be filled with dragons once again, I could not allow that pain to continue. How, though? How could I, who reflects, sooth this, let alone understand why...

My favorite part.