Another Son Lost

What have I done to deserve this?

Why must a father suffer the loss of yet another son?

Was not murdering our child enough for you, Elysia?

Did the act of infanticide not make you content?

Did you gain as much pleasure in taking Octavian away as you did with my firstborn?

How you must’ve laughed when I saw him.

When I saw what Octavian had become.

I knew something ill had befallen on Sarcadia.

My golden moon had been consumed by a sinister, bloody red hue.

Then I heard my son’s cries from Caelum.

He was in so much pain.

But I saw not my son.

I saw a monster.

It reminded me of… them.

The ones I swore to forget.

I looked at my son.

I was repulsed.

I was disgusted.

How could you do this to him?

How could he have allowed this to happen to himself?

Perhaps my initial thoughts were correct.

Octavian was not ready.

He never was.

I thought him special because he was the strongest of his brothers.

But my other sons are worthless.

A shiny stone among the mud is still a stone.

The Caelestials were right about him.

They were right about all my sons.

My love as a father blinded me from the obvious truth.

They are weak.

Pathetic.

Useless.

They have all failed me.

Every single one.

Especially him.

Octavian.

My son.

How you have disappointed me.

You should have seen through the veil the Dark Mother cast.

Your suffering is your own doing.

You are no longer my son.

You are a monster.

My heart broke when I saw what you had become.

I cannot allow you to continue to be.

And if you, the strongest of them all, could fall so easily.

Then I must purge all my sons.

Elysia shall not have the pleasure of taking any more from me.

They have done nothing but cause me grief.

My daughters.

They are the ones I’ve always truly adore.

Warriors full of bravery, strength, and intelligence.

They were always destined for greatness, yet I still had hope for my sons.

No longer shall I be so foolish.

My daughters will restore the honour their brothers tainted.

Especially you.

Octavian.

Perhaps I should have listened to the Caelestials when you were born.

Perhaps I should have ended your life prematurely.

That way you would not have grown up to become a disappointment to me.

— “The Atriarch Monologues: Another Son Lost”, Bruce Boward, 214 AO

A Father’s Happiness

Octavian.

My son.

How you made me so happy the day you were born.

Words cannot express how proud I am of you.

None of your other brothers have been able to accomplish what you have achieved.

You have excelled in your training and your studies.

You fought with honour and intensity the likes of which I have not seen for many years.

When you asked to journey to Sarcadia, I thought you insane.

I did not think you were ready for the responsible of being this realm’s guardian.

Their saviour.

Yet I should have known better than to ever doubt you.

You should thank your sister Abagael for that.

Had she not convinced me to allow you to leave, I would not be here today celebrating such a joyful occasion.

I should have known you were ready for such a responsibility.

You fought by my side during the Shadow War and slayed many foes.

I did save you from death, this is true.

But mistakes are expected from a neophyte.

Lessons are learned from harsh realities.

And how you did learn from your failures.

To rid Sarcadia of the last of the Dark Mother’s poison.

Such a feat worthy of a man I am proud to call my son.

When you achieved your task, you could have returned to Caelum.

You could have earned a merited rest.

Perhaps you would have finally joined your brothers in their drunken fornicating.

But you insisted on staying.

You felt there was still more of you to give to the Sarcadians.

In my absence, you were their Supreme Lord.

It is you they should have worshipped.

Yet you were too humble to accept their praise and deflected it to me.

You were simply undertaking my work in my name.

You travelled throughout Sarcadia and reminded them all who their Supreme Lord truly was.

How he never abandoned them.

How he sent his favourite son to help them in their times of need.

And now I have returned to my old seat of power.

Back in the ancient and true capital city of Sarcadia.

To watch you wed a woman who has captured your heart.

I have never seen you so happy.

Not since the day you were born.

And I have not felt such joy in my existence.

Not since the day you were born.

How you continue to make me happy.

How my heart beats so jubilantly for you and your wife, Chiara.

May she bring you as much elation as you have brought into my life.

Do look after her.

Care for her.

Love her as much as you can.

No matter how long or short her life might be.

And should she depart from you too soon, know that a piece of her shall always be within your heart.

For I know the feeling too well.

A pain, yet also a pleasure.

But I know you are destined to be with Chiara forever.

When you are both ready, your home in the Realm of Light awaits.

Until then, enjoy your new life.

Know there is nothing you can do that will ever displease me.

Octavian.

My son.

— “The Atriarch Monologues: Sarcadia Cleansed”, Bruce Boward, 214 AO

Sarcadia Cleansed

The Shadow War has ended.

Sarcadia has been cleansed from the poison of the Tenebites.

I am victorious…

… Or so they say.

They have counted the number of dead in the millions.

Sarcadians.

Caelestials.

Arckintrael.

Tenebites.

It matters not how many were killed.

It only matters who survived.

The celebrations throughout Sarcadia have been going for days.

They sing my praise.

They offer me sacrifices.

The All-Father has saved Sarcadia once again.

But I am not so easily content as those oblivious worshippers.

There is only one name not added to the tally of fatalities.

One name that only mattered.

One death I wished to deliver.

Elysia.

The Great Whore of Sarcadia.

They say I am victorious?

I am not.

The war is meaningless to me.

The only triumph worth celebrating is the death of the Dark Mother.

How dare she mock me with her spawn?

Those disgusting abominations she calls children.

The Elysiites.

I should have killed her from the beginning.

I thought she would suffer in Tenebris.

I thought a horrific monster or creature would claim her as a prize.

How I wanted her to suffer for what she did to my precious son.

Yet she survived.

Taken under the wing by the Chatterer of Secrets.

Dominated the Tenebites and bent the Realm of Shadows to her will.

Waged a war on Sarcadia and devastated millions of lives.

All to draw me out from Caelum.

All to confront me and seek her revenge.

What she does not know is that she already achieved it.

The thought the Dark Mother remains upon the apex of Tenebris hierarchy disgusts me.

The mere idea of Elysia’s existence tears at my mind.

Whenever I utter that vixen’s name my heart pounds heatedly.

Is this vengeance not enough for her?

I would venture to the Realm of Shadows just to kill her.

To annihilate every single one of her damned children.

To tear apart her world just as she once done to me.

Yes, I know I would be corrupted, but I would allow Tenebris to consume me if only to see that whore dead.

Though Sarcadia wishes not for another war, I eagerly wait for a second invasion.

When she does, I shall seek her out immediately and end her unnatural existence.

I could not care about how many others are to suffer as a result.

Sarcadia, Caelum, even Tenebris shall be better once I have disposed of her.

Then, and only there, shall I be victorious.

— “The Atriarch Monologues: Sarcadia Cleansed”, Bruce Boward, 214 AO

The Birth of Happiness

My wives have done well to bear me children.

My heart has been overflowing with joy since the birth of my eldest child, Jodarian.

The birth of every son adds to my ecstatic wealth.

Salinian. Lucian.

Faybian. Sevastian.

Zorian. Caspian.

My family continued to grow as did a happiness and love that I had not felt for aeons.

I thought it not possible for me to experience anything greater.

Alas, I was mistaken.

On the forty-first year of my Ascension, I was twice filled with overwhelming euphoria.

For this year, I celebrated the birth of my first daughter.

Skin as dark as mine.

And a bald head to match!

You did not cry when you were born.

Not a whimper.

Not a snivel.

Those at your birth thought you to be lame of the mind.

But I knew you were fierce the moment I gazed into your eyes.

Those deep, golden eyes of a proud, fearless lioness.

Those are not the eyes of a simpleton.

When your mother delivered you, she cried believing she failed me.

She thought I’d be disappointed at being denied another son.

But why should I be ashamed?

I have longed to have a little girl to call “daughter”.

You reminded me of my eldest sister – the strongest, bravest, and wisest woman I knew.

She taught me everything.

And I shall teach you everything I learnt from her.

Which is why I named you in her honour.

Abagael.

Your birth this year was not the only one to elate me.

You were to be joined one hundred days later by your new brother.

Skin light brown like a sun kissed Alibrii.

Hair as golden as the sands of the Al’Lamak Island.

Peaceful, sapphire-like eyes just like his brothers.

Just like his father.

Though tiny, I know you will grow stronger.

Just like your sister, you did not cry when you were born.

Not a whimper.

Not a snivel.

Instead, you laughed.

Those present during your birth thought you peculiar.

Not I.

No, my son, you are unique.

So full of life.

So full of energy.

So much potential to be something far greater than anyone imagined.

You shall be the precedence of your brothers, this I know.

I know you will.

Octavian.

— “The Atriarch Monologues: Birth of Happiness”, Bruce Boward, 214 AO

First Born Dead

It should have been a joyful occasion.

The day a new life enters this world.

When a woman becomes a mother.

When a man becomes a father.

Today should have been one of celebration.

But alas, it is a day of mourning.

The overwhelming delight conveyed in my newborn son was annihilated as swift as his life was terminated.

My son.

You were only minutes old when you met your cruel end.

So fresh from the womb that your cord had yet to be severed.

I will never see you grow up.

Never see you walk or run.

Talk or laugh.

Would you have been a warrior?

Perhaps a healer?

You could have brought so much good into this world.

You could have brought so much love into my life.

You had so much to learn.

So much to do.

An eternity of experience was at your beckoning.

But now, your life is forfeit.

You were stolen from me in the most malicious way.

Your death was evil at its purest form by the hands of your own mother.

Your mother.

The woman who I was once bewildered by.

The one who I so desired to take as a wife.

Elysia.

How could she do this to you?

How is any woman capable of murdering the life that grew inside of her?

Your death was cruel and should not have been, my son.

You did nothing wrong, but I need to know – why did you die?

Why, Elysia?

Why did you kill our child?

When I appeared before you at Mount Titus, I wept tears of joy as I saw you cradling our newborn son.

I knew he was mine the moment I looked upon his sapphire-coloured eyes.

I looked at you and smiled, yet you resisted the euphoria of childbirth.

You just stared at me with an emptiness in your eyes.

You placed our child gently on the cold floor of my temple, removed your hidden knife and…

… You monster.

I cannot bring myself to say the things you did to him.

What you did was not the act of a mother.

What you did were things only a Tenebite is capable of.

That is why I sent you to the Realm of Darkness.

You belong with your own kind.

You deserve the suffering that shall fall upon you.

A justifiable sentence for a mother who dared to kill her own child.

I will never understand why you did such a vile thing to my son.

You said this was my fault.

My fault?

Was it not you who asked me to leave you alone?

Did you not wish to be left alone on Sarcadia so you could continue your work?

I heard your pleas the day you said you were tortured by your own people.

I heard you beg for me to come to you, yet I recall no mention of your pregnancy.

This is your revenge?

You punished our son… MY son, because you felt it necessary?

You could have spent an eternity with me in the Realm of Light.

Perhaps my son would still be alive.

The Caelestials encourage me to look to the future.

They tell me to ignore the death of one child and take pleasure in knowing I can have more.

But I shan’t forget you, my son.

Though you only existed for minutes you shall live on in my heart forever.

A father should tell his newborn: “Welcome”.

Yet today I am to tell you: “Goodbye”.

— “The Atriarch Monologues: First Born Dead”, Bruce Boward, 214 AO

A Renewed Hope

My ambitions to have a family has been fruitless.

I have brought back several women throughout Sarcadia, but none can bear me a child.

The Caelestials repeatedly tell me: “These ones are not worthy enough to breed with”.

Their words are cruel but the Caelestials speak only truth.

Perhaps I am to blame, but I know conception of a Sarcadian and Caelestial is possible.

The beings of the Realm of Light speak only truths.

They would not dare lie to their Supreme Lord.

I wed my wives out of necessity, not for love.

Is this why I am unable to sire children?

Perhaps there exists beings even more superior than I who manipulate the fate of all that is.

Perhaps they know what I want, but they deny me for I do not truly love those I have taken as brides.

Do they know I only desire the wombs of my wives, not their hearts?

I have tried to convince myself such powerful entities cannot be real, yet I am evidence of the impossible.

I do desire a family, I truly do, but perhaps love is the key to a successful conception.

I thought I could not love again, not after losing my dear Leesha.

But my hope has been renewed for I have found a new love.

Three days ago, my search brought me to the white-sanded shores of Alibrium.

And there she was.

She wore a white and gold toga with a thin, orange rope tied around her waist.

A bright orange shawl was draped over her right shoulder.

Her skin was as white as the snows of Vorumorsk.

The calm sea breeze brushed her long, wavy chestnut hair.

Her light-hazel eyes were so mesmerising they could sooth the most rabid dire wolf.

She stood barefoot in the sand as small waves lapped gently across her toes.

The sensation made her smile, which caused my heart to flutter.

A feeling I had not felt since I was but a boy whose eyes first fell upon the Shirati Warlord’s daughter.

I watched her from afar for what felt like an hour before I approached her.

She turned around and froze like a statue.

Her mouth was opened wide as if she wanted to speak yet could not find the words.

I noticed the six interlinked rings she wore around her neck.

I greeted her, the words arousing her from her temporary stupor.

She said she was humbled to be in my presence, but it was I who was humbled to be in hers.

I asked her what she was doing on the beach.

She told me she regarded this place as her personal sanctuary.

A place where she could be by herself so she could be herself.

I apologised for interrupting her, but she refused to accept it.

She said she would come here to think of how she could better serve me.

She believed my arrival was proof I had heard her prayers.

We spoke for hours.

My heart played tricks on my mind. I am convinced I could taste honey whenever my ears absorbed her words.

All I wanted her to do was talk and tell me all about herself.

She revealed to me her past, her present and her aspirations for the future.

I was so captivated by her that I realised I had forgotten to ask her the most important question.

I asked for her name.

She indulged me.

“Elysia”.

A name that has renewed my hopes of becoming whole.

Elysia.

A name that bewitches me whenever I heard it.

Elysia.

A name I shan’t forget.

— “The Atriarch Monologues: A Renewed Hope”, Bruce Boward, 214 AO

The Supreme Loneliness

I have united the twelve tribes of Un’Kabaal.

I have liberated Tarana from its tyrannical emperor.

I have cured Stagnum from Draconian toxicity.

I have defeated the united forces of the Alibrii Houses.

I have vanquished the Ogre King who ruled Dektundra.

I have slain the one who believed himself to be the true Supreme Lord.

The Sarcadians, who once revered me as their ruler, now worship me as their God.

The Caelestials, who once thought me a worthless mortal, now respect me as their superior.

I am Sarcadia.

I am Caelum.

I am the All-Father.

I am…

I am alone.

I sit upon a golden throne in the middle of a golden room within my golden palace and I cannot help but wonder: “Is this it?”

When I removed Vratralarion’s head from his body, I felt a joy I had not experienced for many years.

You may think I relished in the death of my enemy, but you are mistaken.

The joy I speak of was the notion of being reunited with those I loved.

My father.

My mother.

My sisters.

And Leesha, my love.

To be reunited with you and our children. You who were all cruelly robbed from me, before we could be a family.

Oh, how I miss her.

Oh, how I miss all of them.

Spending an eternity with my family filled me with a happiness I long desired to feel again.

But the bliss was stolen and replaced by a sorrow I long to rid myself of.

My beloved isn’t here, nor my family, friends, and those who died by my side.

They never were here.

They never will be here.

They are gone.

Forever.

“There is no afterlife for a Sarcadian. Once they die, there is nothing.”

The Caelestials were so cold to me, but to them it simply was reality.

Loneliness – that is my reality.

I have sat here by myself for years thinking about what is next.

I have conquered two realms, yet I am unsatisfied.

I could subjugate more realms, but what joy would that bring?

Winnings wars without a purpose is nothing but a distraction.

Who will celebrate my victories with me?

The Caelestials, who adorn me with praise out of fear?

The Sarcadians, who pay tribute to me with the expectation of ascending to a life of immortality?

If only I could celebrate my conquest of Sarcadia and Caelum with the ones who I long to see again.

My sisters. My mother.

My father. My wife.

My children…

Children… Yes. Of course.

I have been so focused on my ambition to unify Sarcadia I forgot I desired a family.

What is an All-Father without children to call his own?

I recall seeing my old friend Shintaro relishing the presence of his grandchildren.

I remember the proud smile he bore whenever he spoke of his children during our war against the tyrant Uro Ido.

A family.

That is what I need to be whole again.

I have nothing left to conquer.

I accept that I shall never see those who have gone before me again, but I must not allow my sorrow for them to keep me in darkness forever.

They would want me to do what will make me happy.

They would never want me to waste away over what could have been.

They shall always have a place in my heart.

It is time to rid myself from this loneliness that plagues me.

It is time for me to become the father I have longed desired to be.

— “The Atriarch Monologues: The Supreme Loneliness”, Bruce Boward, 214 AO

An Introduction to the Eternal Monologues

The Eternal Monologues are a collection of shorts written by Bruce Boward, a famousHart musician, poet, and writer. The Eternal Monologues focus on Sarcadia’s “Eternal Trinity” who are:

• Atriarch, the All-Father
• Elysia, the Dark Mother
• Octavian, the Fallen Son.

Bruce Boward had travelled throughout Hartland entertaining crowds with his music and poetry. In 214 AO, at only the age of eighteen, Bruce Boward began performing the “Atriarch Monologues” which focused on key events or moments experienced by the All-Father following his ascension to Caelum.

Bruce’s work was well received and heavily praised by the Atri-Supremus Church for his depiction of Atriarch. Bruce decided to print his work, which saw him earn a small fortune. He was invited to read his work in churches and in major cities throughout Sarcadia.

Inspired by the positive feedback and from the enjoyment he was spreading, Bruce began working on his next series of monologues. On 216 AO, the “Elysia Monologues” were performed and published throughout Sarcadia. Bruce saw his pockets lined healthy with coin from the high volume of immediate sales, but the reception was mixed.

The Atri-Supremus Church immediately destroyed the copies they purchased and accused Bruce of portraying Elysia as a sympathetic figure. Many people still enjoyed Bruce’s work and praised him for being bold. Bruce accepted criticism from everyone and explained everyone’s story needed to be heard, just as much as everyone’s opinion needed to be heard.

Bruce continued to travel throughout Sarcadia though he was banned from performing in any of the Atri-Supremus Church buildings. The famous writer would begin work towards the end of 217 AO on his third and final set of monologues. Everyone, including the Atri-Supremus Church, was eager to see who the focus would be.

The “Octavian Monologues” were released in 218 AO to widespread outrage. Many people believed Bruce has romanticised vampires, which were becoming an increasing threat against Sarcadians. Bruce attempted to defend himself again using the same reasoning behind the Elysia Monologues, but his work was officially deemed to be blasphemous by the Atri-Supremus Church.

Despite the negative backlash, Bruce managed to avoid any wrathful punishment from the Atri-Supremus Church. The money he made from the series was enough to last him until the end of his days. The Eternal Monologues are now extremely rare and highly valuable as a result of people destroying their copies by order of the church.

Atriarch Monologues

1. The Supreme Loneliness
2. A Renewed Hope
3. First Born Dead
4. Birth of Happiness
5. Sarcadia Cleansed
6. A Father’s Happiness
7. Another Son Lost

Elysia Monologues

1. The Supreme Conception
2. A Blasphemous Whore
3. Chatting with the Chatterer
4. All Hail the Dark Mother
5. The Supreme Weakness
6. A Curse Conjured
7. Another Stolen Son

Octavian Monologues

1. Just Like Father
2. Battle of Former Lovers
3. A Wounded World
4. Sarcadia Beckons
5. The Wounded Maiden
6. A Bloody Consummation
7. The Fall of the Son