The Legend of Yangsy Rivers

In the cave that night, before she died, his mother told him that the only way to prevent human extinction was to recover the heart-shaped locket and return it’s presence to the few remaining people on earth before they murdered one another into extinction, which I mentioned before. The locket, as she’d told him, possessed the ability to awaken love in the human heart on sight. It’s absence though, had caused the entire human race to forget love, and man had fallen into a state of perpetual fear and violence. As Yangsy already knew, the king on the hill held the locket, and for years now he’d refused to leave his castle, knowing it’s power, and being aware that without it the world was falling apart. In fact, there remained only one human gathering on Earth, and it was the land surrounding the king’s castle. A viscous war zone that was once the Los Angeles. “Son,” his mother said, while they sat around the fire eating rabbit meat he’d caught earlier in the day, “I have a feeling I won’t live to see tomorrow.”

He looked at her shocked.

“If I go tonight,” she continued, “You have to go the castle tomorrow and get the locket. I fear that after I’m gone, it will only be a matter of days before you too forget love. And then we’re doomed.”

His mother knew of the magic locket because it had once been hers. As a younger woman she had given it to the king as a gift. She had trusted him deeply. But over the years the king changed, he grew fearful and selfish, until he reached the point where he refused to leave his castle, thus keeping the heart-shaped locket and all it’s powers to himself. She had begged him to let her take the locket down the hill, to share with people. “Why, so you can give it to someone else?” He had said. And fearing that she would steal it and run away, the king put the locket in a safe to which only he knew the code.

At this point, she knew something had to be one. So she ran. She took her son Yangsy, thirteen at the time, and they left the castle one night while everyone was sleeping. They hurried their way into the hills outside Los Angeles, and found a cave which would give them shelter from elements, and safety from attackers. She still possessed her own ability to love, and she was able to feed her son on this love, but without the locket she was unable to stir love in the heart’s of other people.

For seven years the two hid lived in the cave. Yangsy learned how to hunt and trap. He grew strong. His mother would tell him stories, about heroes, about love, and community. She fed him on her dreams, and his heart grew strong. Meanwhile the rest of the world destroyed itself. There was nothing they could do without the locket. She told him also about his father, how he’d kept the heart, and what this action had done to the world. She knew one day he would have to challenge his father. She only hoped he did it correctly.

As she predicted, she died peacefully during the night, and early the next morning he took her body outside, dug a grave, and put her to rest. He shed a tear for her, then he left for the castle.

—

In the late afternoon, tired and filled with melancholy, a pink and orange sky to the west, he climbed the hill and approached the castle’s main door. He was armed to the teeth, one must add, for there was no telling who or what he might come across on the journey over. By fate or by chance, he managed to get through the city with no serious threats.

A guard appeared above the main castle door carrying a rifle. He was dressed in black steel armor that made him look like a machine.

“I’m here in peace,” Yangsy said, though by the looks of things he was dressed for battle.

The guard leveled his rifle on Yangsy. “The king doesn’t take any visitors, peaceful or otherwise.” This guard was the king’s oldest, most trusted vassal, and there was no doubt he would kill or die to protect the king’s safety.

“Tell him it’s Yangsy. I’ve come on my mother’s behalf.”

The guard froze when he heard the name. Noticing the shift in his demeanor, Yangsy proceeded to remove his protective face gear so the guard could see his face. Recognizing him immediately, the guard lowered his rifle.

“She passed away last night,” Yangsy continued, “She told me to get the locket.”

“I will tell the king you’re here,” said the guard. He disappeared from above the wall. Yangsy waited on the bridge. He peered over the edge at the rushing water below. He’d known the king years ago, and remembered him to be harsh, critical, and quick to anger. He began to doubt his chances of being admitted peacefully, and remembering what his mother had said, and realizing he could not risk failure, he headed for the wall, prepared to climb.

Just as he was about to reach the wall the castle doors swung open. The guard, now without a helmet, stood before him. “He says he’ll see you now.”

—

The king sat on his throne, gazing out the window at the fire burnt trees poking out the hillside on the other side of his moat. The news of her death had shocked him. He felt old, in a matter of seconds, like every ounce of life had suddenly been drained from his body. He watched the young man stride into the room. They met eyes for a moment. Both felt the flash of familiarity. That this was the same Yangsy who’d left the castle seven years ago, the king could hardly believe. He felt a glimmer of hope.

Yangsy was first to speak, “I’m here for…”

The king nodded knowingly. He reached under his desk to the safe. In moments he’d opened it and pulled out a little black box, which was the only item inside.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” he said while pondering the black box in his hand, “I always thought she would come back.”

Then, almost like it was poisonous, he extended the box to Yangsy. “Take it.”

Yangsy now with the box in his right hand, used his left to crack the lid. He caught a glimpse of the gleaming golden heart inside. He glanced at the king, but the king was looking out the window again, so he closed the box, tucked it into his sack, and turned to leave. The king spoke before he reached the door.

“I tried my best,” his voice quivered. Yangsy turned. He saw the king filled with anguish. Then the old man broke. It started with a couple tears, then stampeded into an uncontrollable sob. Instinctively, Yangsy moved to comfort him. After many minutes of crying, the king looked up at Yangsy. He had changed. He’d become a child.

“Take me out of this castle. I can’t be here anymore.” Yangsy nodded and helped the old man to his feet.

They walked into the main hall. The king nodded a final salute to his guard. The guard nodded back.

“Is there anything you want to get before leaving?” Yangsy asked.

The king shook his head.

—

They emerged from the castle and the doors closed promptly behind. Yangsy paused on the bridge. He reached into his sack, pulled out the black box, opened it, took out the locket, and placed it around his neck.

The king nodded his understanding. Then he followed his son down the hill and they never once looked back.

—

The two found an old abandoned shelter to live in. Soon they’d built a small community. As his mother had said, upon seeing the locket, people were reawakened to love, and this love allowed them to work together, in harmony. One evening while Yangsy was out gathering wood for the fire, he came across a woman. He knew immediately that she was meant to have the locket.

When he gave it to her, he said, “Do what you like, but promise you won’t give it back to me.”

They had two children.

Yangsy never forgot his mother. Every year he’d walk into the hills, to the cave, and he’d talk to her. He’d tell her what was happening in the world. He’d leave flowers over her grave. He’d look into the cave, and see the old fire place, and remember her telling him those stories. He remembered specifically the night before she died, for there had a been a look in her eye, and it was something that he could never forget. Nor could he put words to it.

Nevertheless he tried.