The God of the Sun Burned Earth

When I turned twelve I got to meet him. It was a big event. The whole village gathered. We built a huge bonfire. We danced and sang, we drank and feasted.

Once the moon was at its highest point, I was taken with the other initiates to the cave. We were given plates of fruit, meat, bowls full of wine and various other rare gifts. The Elder painted symbols on our face, gave us a quick blessing, and sent us into the darkness. We walked together, shoulders touching so we didn’t get lost, moving through the gloom until we saw the torches.

The smell hit me first. Rich spices and sweet fruits. The scent of the gods. Then we reached the inner sanctum.

It was beautiful. Filled with fine fabrics and decorations. Charms dangled from the ceiling, shards of glass bound in brightly coloured threads. Mirrors hung on every surface, reflecting the light from the candles that adorned the walls. The floor was covered in fine, soft furs from great and dangerous beasts.

The Sisters beckoned us in.

We knelt, heads bowed, holding out our offerings.

And then I saw him.

It was said that he was as old as the world itself, that he was there when the mountains were made, that he saw the birth of the sun and captured its glow in his eyes. They said he was the last one.

I’d never seen anything like him before. He was beautiful.

He took our gifts; ate something from every plate, drank a little from every goblet, bowl and cup. Then, one by one, he gave us his blessing.

He pulled us to our feet, greeted us by name, and marked our skin with his claws. The claws of a killer and a victor.

I remember meeting his gaze. I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. I spoke.

“Will it hurt?” I asked.

He smiled, fangs glinting in the candlelight. “Only for a little while.”

I nodded and held out my arm, waiting to receive my mark.

***

When I turned sixteen I was sent to serve him for a year.

The Sisters taught me how to serve him best. They taught me how to please him, how to act around him, what to bring him and when and where and why and so on.

There were three of us who served him together, myself, Ren and Cali. It was my task to wake him in the mornings.

According to the old stories and the teachings of the Sisters, he could sleep for all eternity. His body did not function the same way ours did. He didn’t rise with the sun.

He was so peaceful, surrounded by pillows and furs, his long ebony hair flowing out around him in starry rays. A halo of darkness.

“Sir?” I gently shook his shoulder.

He stirred, eyelids fluttering open to reveal the fire beneath. His chest rose with a heavy intake of breath before those burning irises found me. He smiled a smile so warm that it could melt the snow of the mountains. “What time is it?”

“The sun has risen, sir. The morning birds have sung their song.”

“Right. Of course. Time is different now.”

“Different?” I frowned gently. “Different from what? This is how it’s always been.” I stepped back as he rose, the furs falling away as he padded over to the washbasin. I wasn’t supposed to speak this much to him. I wasn’t supposed to speak at all.

“Time used to be numbered,” he began as he splashed cool water onto his face. “It went to twelve.”

“Twelve? I… I don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t expect you to, it’s just nice to remember these kinds of things.” He glanced over his shoulder, gave me that smile again, then sighed. “It’s been such a long time.”

The fire in his eyes flickered then, seemed to dim as his smile wavered. It was then that I caught the first hints of loneliness in him. His smile, his laughter, his jovial ways were all a mask for something darker hidden beneath it all. The legends said that he was dangerous, but he was more than that. He was terrifying.

“Your name's Enna, isn't it?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes.”

“Enna. A beautiful name.”

Over time I earned his trust and respect. I was good at my job, dutiful and attentive and always there to listen or speak as he needed. I was happy to learn from him, to listen to his wonderous stories of things I could never understand. I never expected friendship from him, after all he was a god and I was a mere mortal, but I think he was fond of my company. He liked having someone to talk to. I think he needed it. Our conversations were always somewhat trivial, an exchange of stories or a round of questions from him regarding the village and the world outside.

“Do you never go outside?” I asked one day.

“I’m not allowed,” he sighed as he picked at the grapes sat beside him.

“Not allowed? Who forbids you?”

“People.”

Again, the flash of loneliness, the desire for company hidden deep within his words. Then, one day…

“Caleb.”

“What?” I locked eyes with him, lips parted a little.

“My name. Caleb.”

He had a name? For generations the village had only ever referred to him as the Old One, the Great One. Had we never bothered to ask for his name?

“Caleb is a very pretty name.”

“It means faithful, or something, in Hebrew.”

“Hebrew?”

“It’s a language spoken in Israel, which… you don’t know what Israel is either.” His gaze dropped as he focused on his own hands.

“How… how old are you?” My voice was quiet, tentative. There was so much I wanted to know. So many mysteries I wanted to solve. So many questions I wanted to ask.

“You know, I don’t know." His amber eyes met mine again. “I was born on the eighth of August nineteen-ninety-six.”

“But that’s… that’s over three hundred years ago.”

“I know. I look pretty good for my age, huh?”

“Well, yes. Yes, you do.”

He laughed then, a loud, spontaneous, booming noise. I watched as the skin around his eyes wrinkled as his face lit up.

“If you were born in nineteen-ninety-six then you were there when the sun bled.”

Nodding, he shifted his weight, readjusting how he lounged on the furs sprawled across the floor. “It was a solar storm, and there was nothing that could stop it,” he began. “It wiped out all forms of communication, electricity, power. Everything. We couldn’t adapt fast enough. We fought amongst ourselves. We destroyed it all.” He stopped. His breaths caught in his throat as tears gathered in the corners of his eye. “Everyone I loved I’ve lost.”

After a moment of silence in which I watched his façade slip and crumble like fragile paper, I mustered all of my courage and asked the one question I had always wanted to ask. “Am I allowed to know why you are the way you are?”

My question seemed to take him by surprise, and his wild eyes flicked up to mine. Something flashed across his face, maybe annoyance, before he slowly came round to the idea of sharing his story. “I was born like this,” he said, voice calm and quiet. “There used to be lots of us, people born with special powers. A friend of mine had these gorgeous white angel wings. Another could control fire. I was born like this.” He gestured to the claws, the fangs, the wild amber cat eyes. “And I’ve got a rapid regenerative ability which, in basic terms, means I can’t die.”

“So you really are immortal?”

“Yes.”

“That… that must be hard, knowing you’ll outlive your friends?”

“Yeah, it… it is…” He trailed off, gaze moving to the bed behind him. Suddenly he got up, pulled something out from under the bed. Sitting back in front of me, he pushed a small cardboard box towards me. “That’s all my old stuff.”

This was incredible. This was… this was ancient artefacts of the gods. I was likely the one and only person other than himself that Caleb had ever let see these things. With overflowing curiosity and awe, I lifted the lid of the box and gazed inside. One by one I pulled each item out, and every one had a story.

“Is this your family?” I asked, holding up a picture of Caleb with a beautiful woman, a young boy in his arms.

“Yes. That’s my family.” He took the picture, gazed longingly at it for a moment then sighed. “My wife, Emma, and my son Jack.”

There was the loneliness again in the corners of his mouth as he tried to smile. It lurked beneath his eyes as he stared at the picture.

“Emma. A pretty name. It’s almost my name.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.” Reaching into the box, Caleb pulled out a silver necklace on which hung a small heart-shaped locket. The same locket in the photo. “This was hers. I took it when… when she died.”

The pendant is small but expertly made. It catches in the light as it gently swings back and forth, flashing with silver radiance.

“I got to watch him grow up, if only for a little while,” Caleb continued, more to himself than to me. “My Jack. He was so strong, but… the world was too harsh.”

“I’m sorry.”

Blinking, Caleb tilted his head a little, a soft frown taking up residence on his brow. After a moment, he held the necklace out to me. “Here. Take it.”

“No, I… I can’t,” I managed, shaking my head. “It was your wife’s.”

“It’s been sat in this box for decades. Take it. You’ll make better use of it than I did.”

Slowly, I reached out my hand, curled my fingers round the chain, and took the necklace from him. “I’m going to help you get out,” I declared suddenly.

“What?”

“I’ll help you escape. You’re not happy here, and you deserve to be free.”

“Enna, I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

He held my gaze for a moment, his golden eyes searching mine for any signs of weakness or hesitation. He didn’t find any though, for he slowly nodded. “When?”

“Tonight.”

“Okay.”

Rising, I tucked the locket into my pocket and smiled. “I’ll be back later tonight.” I turned to leave.

“Enna.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

***

In the dim light of the moon I could just make out the silhouettes of the ruined buildings in the distance. The torch I held offered a small circle of orange glow, but not much. I had to be discreet so as no one would suspect what I was planning, what I was doing. This was heresy and treason. I didn’t know what would happen once Caleb was gone, once his bed was found empty and his home deserted. I’d likely just signed my own death warrant. But he deserved freedom as much as any person.

“Enna?”

Turning, I smiled at the cloaked figure of Caleb emerging from the back tunnel of the cave. “Ready?”

He nodded. I handed him the torch as well as a small bundle of food and supplies I’d packed earlier. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh. One last thing.” Plunging my hand into my pocket, I pulled out the locket. “You should take this, to remember Emma by.”

Shaking his head, Caleb curled my fingers back into my palm and pressed my hand to my chest, the locket safely hidden. “Keep it.”

I didn’t argue. I simply nodded and watched as he disappeared into the darkness of the night. I watched until the flicker of his torch faded into nothingness.

He was gone. He was free. He was happy. And so was I.