The Martyr’s Ideal Fiction | Sebastian Gonzalez | 6 Photography | Henry McGill | 5
T
ime stood still. The arrow I had released just before the cocky guard hit him flew in slow motion, its aim true. I tried to yell out a warning, but my throat closed up. I couldn’t let Kairos die, so I did the only other thing I could. I jumped and took my life so he could live. I fell to the ground with a thud, barely feeling a thing. Blackness began to creep in from the edges of my eyes, and although I felt no pain, I knew I was dying. The last thing I saw was Kairos’s face, a mixture of shock, sorrow and guilt. Then I died. I woke up in what seemed like a bed of clouds, my strength and energy completely restored. The room was barren except for a drawer with all my clothes and a desk. The desk had nothing on it except for a certificate of something that I didn’t recognize, but looked eerily familiar. I quickly turned around as a door that had not been there before opened and in came an old man who gestured for me to follow him. He led me down a hallway into what must have been his office. Settling into his chair, he gestured for me to sit down, and pulled a folder out from his desk. “Welcome. You are in Gulak. I assume you know what that means.” he said calmly. My heart skipped a beat. I was at a total loss for words. I felt like my life had just been turned upside down. I remembered the stories I heard as a kid about Gulak, the trial of the heavens. “W-what did I do to deserve this?” I asked, my fingers trembling. “I’m in quite a predicament here. You see, martyr-like death for the sake of your nation, friends, family, or whatever type of group, usually results in high afterlife status and the like. Your death, despite being brave and selfless, would never have happened if you didn’t make the mistakes and reckless decisions that you made. The Krinx has prepared a trial for you. Good luck.” he said, smiling ruefully.
My stomach knotted as I braced myself for the task ahead. The Krinx was known for his wisdom and subtle tricks. “I’m ready,” I whispered. I was sitting down in a room with three blank, black walls and one wall that was covered floor to ceiling with intricate carvings. I got up from the stool, which had a sort of emptiness to it, and moved closer to the wall. It seemed to depict everything that ever happened in life. Three carvings were set slightly further in from the rest. The first portrayed a content yet downcast fugitive who refused to give in to the oppressive government, willing to die for his cause. The second had two outcasts, one on the ground and cornered by bandits, the other rushing in to save him. The third was a radiant young man joining the military during his country’s time of need. I knew what this meant, or at least I thought I did. I had to choose one, but I had to really believe in it to be able to. I closed my eyes, and one at a time, the carvings came to life in my mind. By the end, I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t bring myself to give in, to go with the brainwashing and propaganda that was so fundamental to the Induzzio government. I took one deep breath and placed my hand so it was touching both the first and second at the same time. Then, the Krinx began: “Verumus, fecissen aeternto.” I had never heard these words in my life, yet I already knew their meaning, “Perfect, forever done”. The Krinx’s words echoed in my brain, as I realized I had done it. My mission was complete, and, most importantly, the High Ones shared my view on the world. I realized that I did not long to live in a perfect heaven. I had done what I needed to do. Satisfied, I closed my eyes, and let myself go wherever I was needed, as a spirit or as a human. I knew that in some way, somehow, the flame I worked so hard to light would not die out.
“Verumus, fecissen aeternto.”