Kormada: Roots

In his final days, the Leviathan, humbled, had not begged the Kormadians for their forgiveness. Time and mortality--concepts which he had never fully comprehended--had changed him. Kestrel, though mighty he had been, was mighty no more. To the Kormadians, his death had been a long time--a very long time--coming. And when he took his final breath, and when the great red body shuddered into stillness, they had rejoiced.

MANY MONTHS LATER

Memory rested on the stone outcropping above the western sea, gazing across it. It had been some time since the Kormadians had made their choice and let the great wyvern pass away as a mortal like themselves, and though he was guardedly pleased at their decision, the importance of his duties had grown even more. Without the wyvern, Memory didn't know if the Kormadians would retain their divisions of alliance or not. Without the wyvern, he didn't know how the equines' morals would hold up either--without the fear of a God, what would happen? Would the tales of the Halcyon be enough to keep things under control?

"What are you thinking about my dear?" came the voice of Vitality, and as she came to stand beside him, he couldn't help but admire the clash of her red roan pelt next to the blue of his own. They were a visually striking pair, he knew, but it was the mare's feminine charms that drew a smile to his lips. She nudged his shoulder with her muzzle, and he gracefully rose to his hooves.

"I am merely wondering what the future holds for our kind," he admitted, feeling almost guilty, for he knew what she would say next.

"But your duty is not to look to the future," issued the mare. "Your duty is to record the past lest it be forgotten and tragic mistakes repeated. That of which you speak is under Creation's jurisdiction. She is the one who must worry."

Memory sighed, cringing a bit as he did so.

"It is...difficult...to remember for everyone."

Vitality looked thoughtful for a moment, and then her ears pricked forward.

"Perhaps you should speak with Compassion. Perhaps she can help ease your troubles."

"She has enough to worry about without taking a fellow Scarbearer under her wing," the stallion snorted, somewhat offended. "There are many a Kormadian who have committed crimes since the Leviathan fell, and last I knew, she was trying to get them to spit out the reasons for their actions."

"Crimes?" Vitality questioned, tilting her refined head. "What crimes?"

But Memory was shaking his head now.

"Another day, perhaps, my sweet. I am very tired, and the memories have been more painful today than in the past. I fear this world will suffer much more before it will begin to heal."

"Indeed," the mare agreed, bowing her head. "But that is why it is so important that we strive to complete our tasks as quickly and in the best way we can. We can take much of that suffering from our Kormadians before it washes them into despair."

With a slow, fatigued nod of his own, Memory turned and followed his mate into the shadows of the approaching night.

Kestrel was gone, and with his death came a measure of final peace, but as his name professed, Memory knew Kormada would almost always be cursed by the great beast's lies and wrongdoings. Generations from now, perhaps there would be true peace, but so long as the Kormadians who had lived through Kestrel's reign remained alive, Memory could only do so much to help them.