The Door to Freedom

There was nothing he could do but listen to the cries of war and watch as the surface of the land turned red. Kieran’s finger trailed to the past, then back to the future. If life could always be divvied up between three doors, making decisions would come easier; or so he thought.

            The door to the present meant he would grow stagnant— nothing would change. Did he want it to change? The echoes that rung through his ears told him otherwise. Kieran would give anything to erase them. They were open wounds; constant reminders of all the chaos he had produced. But he was afraid. The present meant he would have to endure those cries. He would have to come to terms with the consequences of his actions. The scars he bore were well deserved; he felt ashamed that the idea of running away was so enticing to him.

            Remaining in the present wasn’t an option and the past would only brand him a coward. This only left one choice. Kieran stood before the door of the future. It was this door that appeared to be the most ominous. Dark shadows oozed from its cracks; the handle glowed as if it were on fire. It was said that the door to the future reflected that which lay ahead. Kieran’s future was not very inviting.

            Vega draped her boney fingers over Kieran’s shoulder. “Knowledge brings power,” she said. The rasp in her voice would haunt him for eternity. “Future would be a wise choice.”

            Kieran’s body fought against him as he stepped forward. It was not power that he sought, but justice. It had always been justice. Would it be wise to make a choice based on the desires of the flesh? Was it wise to choose death? Because surely that was the only outcome for a world with him in it. He was the bringer of death; an unmatched warrior gifted by the gods to topple the pillars of the Empire. Knowing and seeing what was to happen to the world he created, would change nothing. It would only solidify knowledge he already possessed. The Emperor would find him. Thousands of soldiers marched towards him this very moment. He did not need this door, nor did he feel that he wanted it. What Kieran wanted awaited at the end of a forbidden path.

            Vega grew impatient. Her shadow paced between each of the doors. Her eyes pierced Kieran’s armor and she grinned— surely satisfied by the beat of his pounding heart. Vega hungered for weary travelers. They would come to her seeking fame, fortune, a gateway to power. She was fed by their greed and foolishness through which desperation poured out.

            Kieran could run no longer. He had no fight left in him. What was there to fight for? His family was lost to the flames. His men were lifeless and scattered among the plains. The Emperor branded him a traitor, turning the rest of the world against him. Whatever the gods had seen within him was gone. He had failed. Kieran turned and pointed to the door of his choosing. Never had his arm felt as heavy as it did in that moment. The weight of the world screamed no, while the fatigue of his heart pleaded for him to say yes. And so he did.

            Vega’s teeth were jagged and yellowed when she grinned at him. She was pleased with his decision. She ushered him forward, opening the door to the past.

            “Remember,” she hissed, “you only have until the setting of the sun. Successful or not, whatever deed done will set your stage. You will not be granted a second chance.”

            Kieran nodded.

            “Farewell, Lord Kieran. May the gods grant you a merciful death.”

            The door slammed closed behind him. He understood that if this was the wrong decision that Vega would soon devour his heart— enslaving him to an entirety of servitude. But the world deserved recompense for his failures, and his family deserved life. He walked forward with his hand draped over the hilt of his sword. Its presence calmed him as a well-loved blanket would calm a child. A sword was the heart of a warrior, and he was grateful that Vega did not strip it from him.

            Each time the breeze rustled the leaves on the trees, Kieran felt his hand clutch his sword a little tighter. Was he truly in the past or was this a cruel trick of a woodland hag? It felt as though the Imperial Army would siege him at any moment. But as he rounded over the hills, he knew that it was not a trick. The village of Tehar was testament to that truth. Just yesterday it was engulfed in flames. Just yesterday he wept over the bodies that tried to protect his name.

            Carriages rumbled along the surrounding dirt roads. Women carried baskets of food atop their heads. Kieran could hear the rap of a hammer against metal from a nearby Smith. The air smelled of seawater and the village of fish. He wanted to close his eyes and never leave. It was an intoxicating anchor— a dangerous anchor— to a life long gone. His breath caught when he saw long, dark hair spill over the shoulders of a young woman.

            “Rose,” he uttered, his voice no more than a whisper. He darted down a hill, stumbling over rocks and overgrown brush. By the time he reached the base, a man stood beside her. He was tall, his skin dark and unblemished. A child peeked around the skirt of Rose’s dress. The man scooped the boy up onto his shoulders and pranced around as if he were a horse.

            Kieran felt a knot tighten in his throat. This couldn’t be right. Rose had never been with anyone other than himself. Vega had sent him to the wrong world. There could be no other explanation. Then the man turned, and Kieran froze. Wind brushed the grass against his boots. It was him. Kieran was looking at the man he was before the war. His fingers traced the wrinkles drawn across his face. It was hard to believe that such youth had ever lived within him. Dark bags were vacant from this man’s eyes. Scars and wounds had yet to mar his skin.

Kieran ducked behind a wagon filled with hay when Rose turned. Panic dug its claws into his chest. It stole his breath and demanded his attention. His son was so young, so innocent. Could he follow through and strip him of a father so early in life?

            It was better than death, he concluded. His hand tightened around his sword, and he stood. Rose neatened the collar around his younger self. She leaned forward and kissed his lips.

            “You better come home,” she said.

            “Or what?” Kieran’s past replied with a wink.

            “Or I’ll march right on over to the Fields and drag you back myself.”

            Revelation hit Kieran at the sound of those words. This was shortly after he enlisted. It was during an era of supposed peace, a time when the Emperor promised to share his protection and bountiful wealth— a lie masked by hope.

            Warmth from the sun pressed against Kieran’s back. He would need to act quickly. He dusted himself off and stepped around the wagon. Maybe Rose wouldn’t recognize him. His hair was greased against his scalp, a scar caressed his cheek, and he walked with a limp from years of fighting. Twenty years of hardships stood between them now. And yet, she looked as she did the last time he saw her. Beautiful. It was like a punch to his gut.

            Rose froze when their eyes met. For a moment he feared what it was that she saw within him. But, if there was a part of her that understood who (or what) he was, she didn’t pursue it. Rose corralled Mateo to her side and escorted him down the street. Kieran watched a reflection of himself climb into the seat of a saddle. It was strange to say the least— like stepping into the pages of a book you had authored.

            His lungs filled with a breath disguised as courage. When he approached the man in the saddle he cleared his throat. The young man looked down at him. Kieran wore armor but no rank. He was a renegade after all. There were no ranks among traitors— none officially, that is.

            “Sir?”

            “You Kieran Benesh?” Kieran tried to deepen his voice as he spoke. It didn’t really matter; age had done that for him. Still, it seemed the proper thing to do.

            The young man nodded, brows tight-knit and eyes curious. He stiffened in the saddle when Mateo, his son, ran to the horse’s side. Kieran stepped aside, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. One more second and he would have ended it all. He made the mistake of looking down. Mateo’s brown eyes stared up at him. The last he had seen, his son had perished. He had not gotten the chance to embrace him, or to say goodbye. He wanted to do so now. He wanted to tell him all the words he had failed to say.

            “Mateo,” his past interjected. “Now isn’t the time.” The man’s tone had an edge to it. After all, Kieran was a stranger to them. If nothing had changed it was his need to protect his family. Kieran moved away from the boy and released the grip on his sword.

            “I mean no harm,” Kieran said. “There was an issue with your papers. It requires immediate attention.” He would draw him away, spare Rose and Mateo from the memory. He felt foolish that it had not occurred to him earlier. Whatever happened here would be engrained in their futures. He would need to handle it delicately. They would grieve, but they would heal. They did not need an image to go with it.

            The young man nodded and sent Mateo away. Kieran began to remember how naive he was. He trusted and listened to everyone. There had never been a reason not to. The gods had spoken his destiny. What was there to fear? It had not yet come to pass, after all. He slipped down from the saddle and looped the reins over the hitching post. Tehar was a village perched along the coast of the Tempestas Sea. Imperial recruitment would be stationed along the harbor. From what he remembered, it wasn’t far. A five-minute walk at best.

            “Who sent you?” his past questioned.

            Kieran struggled to remember the names of the officers that would have been present. Most of them had died during the war… most of them by Kieran’s hands.

            “Lockly.” he replied.

            “Lockly sent you?”

            It was a risky name to pull from his back pocket. Lockly was a good friend of his. There were few things they kept from each other. But he only needed to give a temporary reason. He would lead his past self into an alley and strike him down before anyone had a chance to investigate.

            “Didn’t want it to reach headquarters,” Kieran said. “You know how infernal they can be. Always up in everyone’s business. Figured it was best to keep it under the radar. Get things sorted ourselves.” He spat a wad of saliva out the side of his mouth.

            Vega was not gracious with time. It seemed to slip like sand through the cracks of his fingers. Perhaps it was her way of securing the demise of whoever stepped over her thresholds. How many? he wondered, how many souls had she claimed? His would be next… that he was certain of. This path was driven by his own selfish desires. He would end his life before it had time to fester and plague the world with his so-called “prophecy.” The Emperor would strip back the lands, his people would be bound by the chains of his power, his family surely enslaved… but they would be alive.

            They would all be alive.

            He fought back the tears as they walked through a cluster of buildings. Kieran so desperately wanted to remain there. He wanted to watch Mateo grow, and to feel the warmth of Rose as they lay in bed. It was a luxury left unwritten. Kieran cursed at his own stubbornness. It didn’t matter if he found a way to stop himself from signing those papers, or from ever speaking with the gods. It didn’t matter if he kept himself from becoming a soldier. So long as he lived, his destiny would find him. He would forever be a danger to the world.

            Kieran knew what would happen when this was all over. He knew that the Emperor would enslave them. He knew that the life standing before him was a mirage, beautifully constructed by the powers that reigned over them. Kieran hated the part that had once filled him with pride— empathy. It was a curse as much as it was a blessing. He saw a need and found a way, and so he reached for it.

            Kieran had enlisted under the law of the Emperor and trained beside his men. Never with the intention of serving. No… what he intended was destruction. He would destroy the Empire from the inside out. And he did just that. But the cost was too much.

            Kieran drew his sword, pinning his past self into a wall made of brick. His heart was planted firmly in the soil of Tehar. He would need to pull out those roots to extinguish any chance of regrowth. The tears in his eyes blurred the look of betrayal on his younger self. He was always his greatest enemy. It had to be this way. Nothing good would come from his survival. The expulsion of his life would preserve the life of others. It would grant Mateo a chance to build a family of his own. Rose would find new love. Without him, she could grow old and discover all that life has to offer.

            His past pushed back, not yet ready to be taken away. He would not let it win. Kieran dodged a fist and slammed the pommel of his sword into the younger man’s temple. The man crumpled to the ground; blood trickled down his head. Kieran wiped the tears that fell from his eyes and pointed the tip of his sword against the man’s throat.

            “Stop!” a voice cried out.

            Kieran’s breaths were ragged. The sun clipped the tips of the buildings. Soon Vega would come for him. He drew back his sword. The young man closed his eyes and hung his head knowing he was defeated.

            “Tell me,” his past spoke, “are we free?”

            Kieran hesitated, allowing the silence to fill the gaps between them.

            “We will be.” Kieran’s blade pierced through the air until he was blocked by the figure of a woman.

            Rose.

            “Stop this madness,” she cried.

            “You need to leave,” the young man replied. He failed to sit up straight. Experience had not yet given him its strength.

            Rose did not turn from Kieran’s blade. Any closer and it would have been her life that he stole. His arms shook at the thought. Rose touched the edge of the sword and gently pushed it aside. Slowly, she stepped closer to him. He flinched as she touched the scar along his cheek.

            “You’re a fool, Kieran Benesh. You, of all people, would seek Vega’s council? You know better than that.” She scolded him as if he were a child.

            “How did you know?”

            “I would know those brown eyes anywhere.” said Rose softly. Her touch was gentle. “Why have you returned here?”

            “Please,” he hated how pained his voice sounded. “I have to do this.”

            “Do you? The gods chose you as their champion. You would betray them so easily?”

            “You have not yet seen what I have.”

            “I see you. I have always seen you.” she replied and knelt beside the man he once was. Rose pulled out a white cloth and wiped away the blood that stained his skin. She looked up at Kieran. “There is nothing more for you to do here. The past is to be left untouched. What’s done is done.”

            “I—I can’t,” Kieran raised his blade again. Time was running out. He stared at the face of his youth.

            “You are right,” she said. “I have not seen the things you have seen. I do not know the world you left behind. But think of the world you are creating. What kind of world would you rob from our people?”

            “A world without you is not a world worth living in,” he replied.

            Rose looked into the eyes of Kieran’s past self and then helped him to his feet. Kieran followed the man up with his blade. The man reached inside his pocket and pulled out a picture. It was the picture Rose had given him to remind him of his purpose. The entire reason he began this journey in the first place. It was a picture of them together as a family. Kieran found himself unable to look away. It had been years since he last seen it after its disappearance.

            “Whether it be one day, a year, or twenty—life together is a gift that is to be treasured. No matter the time, it will be a life beautifully lived.” Rose reached for his calloused hand and cradled it against her chest.

            Kieran lowered his blade. “I have led hundreds to their graves.” His chest became heavier from the grief he had buried within. “I cannot do this without you.”

            Rose pulled up his chin and then ran her fingers through his dirtied hair. “And you will have freed thousands,” with a sigh, she continued, “how can you be certain of failure if you do not wait to see the results of your actions? That is like refusing to cast a line because you are afraid you will not catch a fish. Remember your why, Kieran. This is bigger than the both of us. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

            He felt shame brush his cheeks. The grief of all that he had lost, clouded all that could be. He did not know for certain what was to come. Rather, he allowed experience to tell him about his future.

            “You must keep to this path you have set for yourself. There is no other who can walk it,” Rose said.

            Kieran smiled at her.

            “I believe it is you who the gods have chosen as their champion,” he said.

            Rose nudged his shoulder and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He dropped his sword and held her until her touch faded with the sun.

            “One day, when all is done, we will be reunited.” Her voice grew distant as darkness pulled him back into Vega’s presence.

            Kieran knelt at the old woman’s feet. The ground shook as the Imperial Army marched onward. When he looked up her eyes softened. She did not smile at him as she had done when he chose the door to the past.

            “You think this is a game?” she questioned.

            “No, of course not.” he lowered his head. Perhaps his decision to leave the past untouched was a mistake. Rose could not possibly have known the outcome to this battle. But she was right about one thing, there was still a chance. Small as it may be, there was a chance for the rest of their people to be free. After all, beautiful things bloom from beneath piles of ash.

            Vega lowered her staff and sighed. With a weathered hand, she waved him to his feet.

            “Be on your way.”

            Kieran did not move. Surely, she would strike him dead as soon as he turned around.

            “You passed the test, now leave.”

            “Test?”

            “Shoo, shoo,” she shoved him across the forest floor. “If you stay you will die. Go on.”

            “What test?” He insisted that she answer him. They had chosen him to fight against the Empire, what more could the gods possibly have wanted from him? Vega pinched her lips into a tight line. The trunk of the trees shivered, and birds fled from their nests as the beating of drums grew louder.

            “The past cannot be rewritten; the future cannot be unwound. What’s been done is what will be. It’s here where you are needed, your past has seen enough and your future can wait a little while longer,” Vega turned away from him. The trees grew closer to together as she raised her staff into the air. “I cannot hold them forever. You must leave.”

            Kieran watched as the branches wove together, creating a shield the size of a fortress wall. When he bowed his head, he noticed that his sword rested near his feet. He grabbed it and ran away from Vega. If he could get to Netan, he could find refuge, perhaps even gather an army of his own.

            If the Empire doesn’t beat him to it.

            He shook the thought out of his head and instead searched for the voice of Rose. He allowed her hopes and dreams to fill him. It renewed his spirits and sent him soaring across the land. Kieran used this time to regain his strength. The forest would not always be there for cover.

            The plains were not as courteous. When the cover of trees grew thin, he quickened his pace. Imperial archers could easily reach him here. His eyes scanned around him. But where were they? Had Vega been able to stop them in time?

            A dark cloud of riders peeked over the horizon and Kieran felt his heart drop. He pleaded for the gods to grant him speed. Netan was only a few miles North. He began to count his steps to keep his mind from wandering and his breaths from escaping his lungs. Soldiers roared; drums pounded against his ears. He could hear them marching closer.

            One.

            Two.

            Left.

            Right.

            Kieran ran and ran. His legs screamed from the pain and his chest pleaded for a reprieve. But he would not stop. He couldn’t stop. Everything he had worked for led up to this moment. If he died here, all of it would dissipate and the lives of his comrades would have been lost for nothing.

            Reeds of grass tangled around his feet, and he plowed into the dirt. As he rolled, the belt that held his sword snapped. Horses thundered towards him. Kieran dug his hands into the ground and pushed himself upright. His legs had grown too weak. His muscles too tired to move. He couldn’t run any further. A hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him up.

            This was it.

            This was the end.

            When he opened his eyes he believed himself dead. It was his son, Mateo, who looked towards him. He grabbed his arm and pulled him into the saddle.

            “How—

            Kieran stopped himself from speaking. There were too many questions that he wanted to ask. He was supposed to have died. He watched the flames destroy his village. Everyone was lost. He walked among their ashen bodies.

            “When the news of Tehar reached camp, I knew where you would go,” Mateo replied. 

            Kieran felt as though he had let his son down. He was supposed to remain steadfast and strong. Nothing was to break him. But he had never felt so broken as he did in this moment. The burden was no longer his alone to bear. He laid his head against the back of his son and closed his eyes.

            “Mother would be furious to know you went to Vega.”

            Kieran scoffed. He did know, and she was. There was an ache in his heart at the thought of her fading away from the space between his arms. This meant that she had not escaped the fires; there was no chance of her return.

            “When she saw the dark clouds of smoke from imperial camps, she knew it was time to leave.” Mateo said. He clicked his tongue and urged the horse forward. Hordes of other riders followed behind them. At this pace, the Imperial Army would have a hard time catching up after dealing with Vega. “She sent me and a few other riders to notify the surrounding villages of the Emperor’s approach.” Mateo’s face fell and silence filled the gaps. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I should have been there to protect her.”

            It was the apology of a boy. Mateo was still a child— barely sixteen. Kieran had to remind himself that this would define the man that his son would become. Mateo could hide the grief he carried from his peers, but he could not hide it from his father. He should not hide it from him. Kieran rested his hand on his son’s shoulder and tightened his hold. There were no words that he could say that would lessen the pain.

            Death has no friends. It cares for no one in particular. Death is selfish and cruel. It takes without ever giving back. Kieran was well aquatinted with Death. He had slipped through its net more times than he wished to remember. But it didn’t matter how many times Death found him, he still felt the weight of its crushing blow. He would never get used to it. He never wanted to get used to it. To get used to death was to abandon life. And he didn’t want Mateo to bear the weight of such a burden… at least not alone.

            When they reached the gates of Netan, crowds of people gathered around them. They offered their food and their clothes. Whatever they could give they wanted him to have. Kieran was overwhelmed by the abundance of praise and attention that he was receiving. For years he walked amidst the faces of hardened warriors— men that were determined to protect the very people that stood before him now.

            For years he watched as each of them fell, and for years he carried their spirits across his back. Kieran feared the day that he would face their families. He dreaded it. It should have been him lost to an imperial sword. It was him who started the revolt against the Empire, it was his responsibility to protect the ones who so eagerly walked beside him. And yet, mother’s fed him their bread and daughters gave him water to drink. They welcomed him with open arms, never once placing the blame in his hands. Mateo walked up beside him and folded his arms.

            “They’ll need someone to lead them,” he said.

            Kieran sighed. Any that followed him would not return.

            “How can I ask for their help when they have given so much already?”

            “You spoke when no one else could stand, ran when they could not walk. You paved the path that they have spent years searching for. You’ve opened the door to freedom,” Mateo replied. “You’ve given them hope. They won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

            Kieran took in his son’s words. How similar they were to his mother’s. In a way, she still lived. Mateo was her living legacy; he would carry her gentleness into the depths of war. Kieran smiled and cleared his throat.

            “Alright,” he said so all could hear. “The Emperor has taken our homes, our lands, and our families. He wishes to rid Deckar of our blood.” Kieran walked to a wooden platform and climbed up. He kept his voice steady even while he felt like it would crack. They might have needed a leader to follow, but it was him who needed a hand to hold. He needed to know that he was not alone, that all of this was for something. That the generations that lived after he was long gone, would be safe and free.

            “I lost my way for a time. I forgot why it was I kept pushing forward. The people that stand beside you are your sons and your daughters. We fight for them. We fight for their chance to live, and for the chance that their sons and daughters can live.” He turned to Mateo, “We fight together, and we will die together.”

            “For freedom,” Mateo cheered.

            The village roared as they readied for battle.

            “For freedom,” Kieran replied.