The Embrace of Abuelita

On the eighth day I was brought to a burnt out shell of a village. It was large, populated by the ruins of several long houses which could've housed hundreds, probably thousands of people.

"Is there something important about this place?" I asked as we rode through, not bothering to stop, "What did this?"

"You did." Missol said, far too casually. "Don't give me that look. You already killed everyone living here, so by the time you ruined it, the entire thing was empty."

"What do you mean I killed everyone?"

"This was the primary village where we housed the sacrifices. Five thousand, a legion's worth. They went to the Grand Leyline Altar under that hill." She pointed somewhere to the east. "You came rampaging out here and razed most of it. We originally intended to turn it into a real settlement once we'd expanded the fields enough to feed so many people, but that will need to change."

"Is this what you meant when you said we were going to see my friend?" I asked, holding back tears.

"No, we're going there." She said, pointing to a city on the nearest mountain. Or at least, I thought it was a city.

We went to a necropolis that covered the entire side of a mountain. There must have been tens of thousands, maybe even a hundred thousand graves here. And those were merely the grave markers, not counting what appeared to be crypts and tombs.

"This mountain is known as Abuelita." Missol said as we approached the edge of the necropolis. "It is said that when you are born, you work under the watchful gaze of Abuelito, but when you die, you rest in the embrace of Abuelita."

"Why is it so massive?" I asked, amazed at its scale. "You said it yourself, there are at most ten thousand people living in this valley. There are at least five times that number here."

"A long history. There had once been a large battle in this valley. In the aftermath, the dead were buried here and a saint sanctified the mountain. In the ages since, it has become the only safe place for the dead to be buried." Missol said as we rode through the gates of the necropolis. As she spoke, I felt strange, as though we were traversing some invisible boundary. "The presence of the Dungeon drives the dead to stir. If they are not buried here in a few days time, they will rise up and begin to attack the living."

That explained the zombies I met in the Dungeon, but that still felt insufficient. "Too many of these grave markers are too new for an ancient necropolis."

"True. Many of the more elaborate tombs and crypts are the product of past castellans, abbots and other lords of the castle, or their relatives. However, the newest graves were made for the sacrifices."

"Why would you bother to give them graves? Did you even know their names?" I asked, unable to stop my tears. "I contributed five thousand lives to this rock."

"Of course we knew their names. We needed their names so that they would be commended in the coming future." Missol said, stopping the horse at an intersection while she began reading a sign. "Granted, there are no bodies under those graves. The Soul Mantle ritual takes a person, body and soul."

"Then what was the point of this? There's not even any people here."

"To remember." She said, urging the horse to go left. "And to apologize. It is a cold comfort, but the soul is eternal, and it will not rest well without dignified treatment."

We went to a wide open plain covered in simple wooden markers and began to search. They had been buried in alphabetical order according to Missol, but that didn't mean much when we didn't know where to start. It was made harder by the simple fact that I couldn't read. After accidentally stumbling upon the names starting with Z, we toured around until we found the names starting with A. Our search yielded nothing, and then I suggested we go to the graves starting with D, as her full name was ‘Amparo of Derrim.’

By the time the sun had grown close to the edge of the world, and the ruined moon began to peak out, we found Amparo's grave. Missol set me down so that I could be close to her. All that remained of her in this world was this simple plank of wood. The elements would destroy it in a few months or a few years, and then there really would be nothing. Javier would know. I couldn't read the letters carved into the wood, but I presumed they said something like ‘Amparo de Derrim.’ There were more symbols written there that I couldn't understand.

"What does it say, Missol?" I asked, kneeling by the simple grave marker

"Amparo of Derrim, daughter of Julio and Cassini. Born Autumn 11754, died Winter 11766."

"Is that this year? 11766?" I asked, again surprised. "Why is it such a big number?"

"There are more than 11,000 years of recorded human history, bear cub. Our kingdom alone is about 2,000 years old. I remember one of the monks mentioning that human history probably goes back even farther than that." Missol said, kneeling next to me and making a number of small gestures. I presumed it to be like making the sign of the cross with Christians on earth, and I didn't want to learn. "How did you meet?"

"She saved my life, in the Dungeon. The Dungeon you threw me into. She was the first person I'd ever met, and my first friend."

"I'm sorry." Missol said. "It was my duty. It had to be done."

"I hate you, Missol. I hate you, I hate the Stone Solari, I hate Adelbardo, I hate Javier." I said, still staring at Amparo's grave. "I don't care if you're right, and that the nobles of the kingdom are worse. You made me kill Amparo, you made me kill all those people. I will never forgive any of you."

"That's understandable. You're not wrong to hate us." Missol said, standing up. "But you'll come to understand, eventually. Maybe you might not forgive us, maybe you never will, but I hope you will join our cause."

I didn't say anything.

"I will give you a little longer, but we must leave soon if we want to return by nightfall." Missol said as she led Lydia a few yards away to give me privacy.

I swore vengeance upon all of them. I didn't care if it led the world to an eternity of bondage or the continued subjugation of people based on whatever God gave them. I cared about none of it. I'm an outsider to this world.

"I'm ready." I said, returning to Missol and Lydia.

"You cried about as much as I thought you would." Missol said, patting my head, "You act so mature and composed, I sometimes forget that you are just a bear cub."

I didn't want to say that it's because I have the memories of a 28 year old man who lived on another world called earth, where a lot of this was just fiction. Partly because it sounded insane, but also I wasn't so sure anymore. I could've just made everything up. The product of a child's insane imagination after being driven to madness by unfathomable pain. True, it was too detailed, too specific, too emotionally charged to merely be my imagination, but the possibility lingered. Of course, so too did the possibility that I was living through a personal ironic hell.

"Excuse me, my lady, could you help me?" We heard someone call out.

Coming from the direction of the setting sun and shrouded by its light was a single rider on horseback. They wore gleaming armor and regal clothing, their steed a beautiful white.

"Who on God's miserable earth are you?" Missol asked as she moved to shield me, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword.

"Forgive me, I am Paladin Taresa de Costanza, dispatched from the Kingdom of Hyraxia by the order of Infanta Elvira to speak with Bishop Aldebardo and Senora Missol de Nevadre. I have an urgent missive we must discuss.”