The Truth Behind the Resurrection
The sun was high in the sky by the time the boy woke up. He shifted his stiff body within the layers of leaves, wanting nothing more than to lie there forever, basking in the warmth of the sunlight.
If it weren't for that voice, the boy would have stayed right where he was.
“Is that… a voice?”
The boy bolted upright and stared down at the bracelet.
The boy began to examine the bracelet from every angle.
“You don’t have any eyes.”
When the voice asked with a tone of disbelief, the boy shook his head with a gloomy expression. The memories of yesterday were flooding back.
“More than that… I’m curious about who you really are. And what exactly happened to me.”
“Oh, wait. That thing over there… isn’t that a desert melon?”
The bracelet spoke as if it truly had eyes of its own.
Hungry, the boy’s eyes sparkled with appetite. Tucked among the vines tangled between the bushes, a large, albeit slightly underripe, desert melon sat, showing off its round form as if to tempt him.
The boy found a stone of suitable size nearby and dropped it hard onto the fruit. The sight of the shattered, scattered pieces of the desert melon was enough to make his mouth water.
But before eating, the boy piously clasped his hands together toward the direction of the sun and prayed.
“Thank you, Urnil. For granting me such mercy…”
“What’s wrong, bracelet?”
After finishing his prayer, the boy sat down and began to devour the pulp of the desert melon without a care. Even though it was clearly ripe and sweet, it tasted salty.
“Ugh, ugh, ugh…”
The boy wept as he shoved the pulp into his mouth. Only then did everything feel real. The palace made of finely carved bedrock and marble. His kind father. The uncle and attendants who used to play with him. The ministers who seemed strict but always welcomed him warmly—they were all gone.
He was truly cast out into the world, all alone.
As the boy ate while sobbing, he wiped his eyes with an arm wet from the fruit pulp at the voice’s words. It was absurd to be comforted by a bracelet, not even a person.
After eating the fruit and washing the sticky juice off in the oasis, the boy even washed his face. Only then could he ask.
“Sorry? For what?”
“What does that mean?”
The voice began to speak, as if it were difficult to open up.
“What…?”
Whether the boy was bewildered or not, the voice continued in a strong tone, as if to say it wouldn’t take any questions.
The boy stared at the bracelet with confused eyes. It was already hard to believe he was in this situation, or that he had woken up in the royal tomb. Before escaping the tomb, he had even seen his father’s corpse. But what this bracelet was saying was even more insane.
The conversation cut off abruptly.
“Bracelet?”
The boy waited for the next words, but suddenly remembering the chase from yesterday, he plunged his head into the oasis water and scanned the bottom.
Bubble, bubble.
After searching through the bubbles and the sandy floor with narrowed eyes, he managed to pick up a single stone. To the boy’s eyes, it was emitting a faint, white light. A pale, chilling glow.
Since it was daytime, it wasn't easy to distinguish, but after pulling out a few stones, he was able to pick out the one that was glowing accurately.
At the bracelet’s sly voice, the boy stared at his left wrist with bewildered eyes. That look soon turned into one of astonishment.
“Essence? This is?”
The boy asked with wide eyes.
Essence.
More precisely, this was called the ‘Essence of the Earth,’ the foundation of the world’s abundance and the fuel for mystical power.
“But I have no talent for handling Essence…”
The boy had tried to learn how to manipulate Essence, but his efforts had never borne fruit. His former tutor had told him his talent was extremely low.
At those words, the boy held the bracelet close to his eyes and squinted. Sure enough, just as it said, the bracelet was emitting a faint, subtle light. More accurately, as the light from the stone in the boy’s hand dimmed, the light from the bracelet grew stronger.
“Are you eating the Essence?”
The boy’s body stiffened. The National Soul Festival was a ritual of offering life to the gods to provide Essence. The gods would be satisfied with that and, in turn, bring abundance back to the land.
‘When the National Soul Festival is held, the gods reside here for seven days. Are you going to break the seal to confirm the failure of the ritual?’
The boy recalled the words of Hartras he had heard in the tomb yesterday. The failure of the ritual. His own resurrection. The tomb where the gods reside.
The answer to all those questions was in his hand. The boy’s face turned deathly pale as he looked down at the bracelet.
“C-could it be… Urnil?”
The bracelet chuckled mentally before continuing.
“Ah…”
The boy covered his flushed face with his other hand, wearing an expression that suggested he wanted to rip the bracelet off and throw it away if he could. As the guardian deity of the royal family and the god of Cellabris, the only one left on earth in place of the departed main deity, the boy knelt on one knee. Then, he stood up again with a look of utter helplessness. He should take this bracelet off and bow before it, but he had no idea how to remove it. It was a mystery why he was even wearing it in the first place.
Only then did the boy notice the form of the bracelet properly. It wasn't made of metal; it felt like carved stone, yet it had a soft, granular texture like desert sand. Looking closer, he realized the bracelet was truly made of sand. Even on its surface, ancient characters appeared and disappeared, pushed along by the flow of the sand.
The bracelet, the guardian deity of the royal family, asked:
“I… Akasa.”
The boy, Akasa, couldn't wrap his head around it. The thing inside his bracelet was a god? And it was talking to him as casually as a peer?
“Is that… so?”
“I, I don’t know.”
Akasa shook his head. Urnil chuckled and said:
“…Do gods get indigestion too?”
A playful tone. To Akasa, who had spent his short life learning that gods were beings of awe and reverence, this side of a god was a shock similar to his world collapsing.
Looking down at the bracelet in a daze, Akasa asked:
“Um, Urnil. So, what exactly happened?”
“What?”
Akasa stood up, his expression stiffening at Urnil’s words.
“Where are we going?”
“What’s in that direction?”
“Sun Ferryman…”
That was a name the boy knew. They were guides of the temple, practitioners who could manipulate Essence. They would take passengers on small boats and cross even the most dangerous regions without trouble.
Nodding at his words, Akasa stood up and began to walk. After eating and resting a little, strength had returned to his limbs.
Akasa began to walk along the river’s path. Soon, the waterfall he might have fallen down yesterday, and the desert city spread out far below it, came into view. Among the people going about their lively day, he could occasionally see groups of soldiers passing by.
He had to avoid the people who used to serve him and call him Prince.
If he had been alone, it would have been hard to endure, but fortunately, Akasa had a good companion to talk to.
“…Yes.”
“Eleven.”
“That far back?”
Fifty years. Back then, even his father in Akasa’s memory might have had more black hair than gray.
“I know the basics.”
“Because the 7th King, Bayarat, wanted to spread the abundance that Cellabris had monopolized to the rest of the world.”
“Yes.”
The boy tilted his head, confused. The god had just given the answer, so he didn't understand why the same question was being asked again.
“Uh… I’m sorry, but no. Isn’t what I just said the reason?”
“Oh, um.”
Urnil emphasized the ‘why.’ Akasa thought for a moment before speaking. To think he would be presenting his history lessons in front of a god.
“…The first Conqueror of Cellabris, Cellabat, founded the kingdom on land that was once a lush forest filled with the Essence of the world. At first, they monopolized all the abundance of the world, while people in the outside lands lived in barren conditions. But as I said, the 7th King, Bayarat, wanted to share that abundance to benefit the world, and… well, Cellabris, having been drained of its abundance, became a desert.”
“Still, the veins of Essence remained, forming rivers and oases. Like the one we were at earlier. But because of that, the god became weaker… Ah, I, I don’t mean to insult you, Urnil—”
At the god’s easygoing words, the boy sighed and continued.
“To reinforce the god’s power, and to maintain even this much abundance left in Cellabris, someone’s sacrifice was necessary. That’s why King Bayarat created the National Soul Festival.”
At the plain assessment, Akasa looked down at the bracelet, not knowing whether to laugh or not.
“What?”
The god continued cheerfully, as if satisfied with the answer.
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“Opposition… faction?”
Young Akasa felt like a lightning bolt had struck his brain.
“Urnil, are you saying… that there are people trying to make Cellabris like it was in the days of the first Conqueror?”
“Who on earth are they?”
For a brief moment, Akasa’s footsteps came to a complete halt.