He first went to the mountain. The journey there was long, marked by mad seas and unending treks. Yet as he stared upwards at the invisible peak of this giant, Rego wished it had been longer: the mountain seemed an impossibility. At its’ base a little village lay, and as Rego walked into the centre, which was very close to the edge, he looked to buy supplies. But he saw no one. He approached a building emanating soft voices and entered. A group of men were gathered around a table. As Rego took a seat, the men stopped talking and stared. The village rarely saw visitors.
‘I have come to climb the mountain.’ Rego said simply.
Nothing. Rego was about to repeat himself, when one man laughed. Then they all laughed. So Rego asked why they were laughing. And the men replied that they were just amused: though they had heard a few madmen claim to wish to climb the mountain before, Rego was the youngest and smallest yet. But Rego did not rise to their baiting. He just said that many had doubted he would reach this far in his search. And yet, he remained: alive in the shadow of the mountain. ‘Only fools would underestimate me.’ He said.
One man then said: ‘You have confidence, young one. But all the others had confidence too. Their confidence killed them. That mountain was built to humble man.’
Rego replied: ‘But I am not like those others. Their dream was the top of the mountain, and therefore climbing the mountain was hard, because reaching dreams is always hard. But you see, my dream isn’t the mountain. My dream is beyond. And so I shall climb it easily, because the mountain is just one step on the road to my dream.’
At this the man smiled. He gave Rego the supplies he needed.
And so Rego came to approach the first slope of the mountain. He felt his heart fluttering, and his stomach emptying, and his muscles tensing, but he reminded himself that he had to climb, for climbing was the one way to the crown. He began to ascend. The ground steepened and Rego became surrounded by solid stone.
The minutes passed. And the minutes became hours. And the hours turned to days marked only by sweat and pain, exhaustion and terror. But Rego climbed on without slowing. The bare rock became snow and the snow became solid ice. But Rego climbed on. And the mountain did not yield. It went on and on, climbed higher and higher, rising ceaselessly into the sky. So Rego continued, telling himself that the Kingdom of the World was just a step away, ordering his feet to keep moving upwards and onwards and forwards, pushing and driving, picturing the Crown to give his legs energy and his mind a focus again.
Rego climbed. And he climbed higher, imagining the places where he passed were where others had fallen, congratulating himself for getting further than them, being better than them. He saw the summit in his daydreams, and the last ascent in his fantasies, until these two images had replaced everything else and they were all his eyes could see. He used these glimmering hopes to push on, to climb and climb, and rise and rise.
He started little fires to melt ice so that he could drink, praying that they wouldn’t go out. But his fears never enlivened and fortunately the fires stayed lit. At nights, he huddled in a ball as his tent billowed in the mountain wind, desperate to fall asleep but unable, stuck with images of the peak in his head. But just before he finally sunk away, he did not see this peak; he saw neither summit nor mountain as slumber took him. Instead he saw a girl. And the girl remained with him all night. By morning though, she was gone.
Rego knew the mountain was testing him. It was challenging him, daring him to go on. So Rego did. And as he went higher, the winds became stronger, the air became thinner and the ice became thicker. Yet Rego saw this merely as reward for everything he had achieved, and he used it to continue.
Until now the mountain had been still, letting him climb in peace. But the mountain had begun to fear this one. It was as Rego edged over a crevasse, and looked down into darkness below, and cried out cheerfully ‘Is this all you have, mountain? You are supposed to be the dominion of Earth!’ that it finally responded. A loud boom turned to a deafening roar that echoed all around. Rego looked up and saw a falling ball of whiteness rolling down. He hid in a small hollow carved in a nearby rock, until the avalanche had tumbled passed and disappeared into the mountainside below. Rego knew he was beginning to get close: he sensed it from the anxiousness of the mountain. The clouds were beneath him, the sky wonderfully clear, crisp and without mark. Weak sunlight bounced from the ice and shone like a beacon. It called Rego to go forwards and climb higher.
Finally, after days, or weeks, he saw the top. In the far distance, pointing into the spotless blue sky: the crown of Earth; so close and so beautiful. But just as he saw it, just as elation took him, he felt the ground sway. Down below, he saw ice break away and roll down the slope. Earth was now shaking the ground itself to throw him from the mountainside. Rego hung to a rock and gripped against it with all his strength. He kept hold even as the mountain lurched from side to side and Rego felt his stomach surge and spit and his muscles burn and tear. But all the time he smiled and laughed. He teased the mountain that all the powers of Earth were not enough to stop him. Eventually the mountain calmed again and quietness returned. The mountain repeated this over and over, jolting the ground, throwing Rego around, but Rego would not let it break him, and the mountain would rest and then try once more. The game continued for hours, yet all the while Rego maintained his climb. The summit drew closer. The air became thinner and colder. Rego’s vision became blurred, his mind numb. The final slope was the steepest; a cliff of colossal ice. But Rego climbed it unfazed.
‘Do you feel the end?’ Rego cried as he did. The mountain shook and convulsed and Rego knew the mountain was indeed scared. With each move, he could feel the power of Earth draining away; each pull endowed him with the strength of the mountain. And then the mountain roared: a mighty, overwhelming roar that reached even the village at the very bottom. And the mountain heaved and rose and fell in one last effort to shake off this intruder. But Rego would not yield, and he would not break. He climbed on. He grasped the summit. His fingers curled around the peak.
And as he did, everything stilled. The mountain became silent. He pulled himself onto the summit and the mountain was defeated. Rego rose to his feet and lifted his arms. At his command, the ground trembled. Mountains built at his wish, rocks tremored at his word. He was now the Lord of Earth.
And yet, even as he felt more power than ever before rippling from his fingers, and more command in his voice, he did not feel satisfied. He was master of an element, yet felt no fulfillment.
But he knew not why. The Kingdom of the World was closer, but happiness eluded him.
So Rego went to find the next element, for he assumed he was not happy because he was not powerful enough.
He left the mountain behind and travelled to the second land told him by the Traveller. It was across an ocean, and weeks away. He came to a plain, this being the dominion of Air.
And once he arrived there, and looked around, and composed himself, he called upon Air and challenged it. At first, when little happened, Rego wondered if the Traveller had been right that Air ruled here. Surrounding him was mere flatness, which ran away into the flat distance. Unimpressive, Rego thought, and not fit for an element. But as he waited, and let the landscape affect him, he realised there was beauty in the flatness, and awesomeness in its scale.
He called upon Air again, this time louder and with vigor. ‘Air!’, he cried, ‘I challenge you.’
A breeze rose, and this turned to a wind, and the dust about his feet was lifted until it circled his face. But little more stirred. Rego knew Air was not flexing its power yet. It was still trying to warn him off. But he wouldn’t be distracted. He challenged it once more. He was louder still and more aggressive. The ground beneath him jolted. It began to hum and rattle.
Ahead of him spinning columns of air had dropped to the floor like spears. Thin at the bottom, larger at the top, they threw up dirt and wreckage in little clouds at their base. They moved with a deep roar
that filled the plain. Rego had never seen anything like them before, and at first he stepped back as they hurtled towards him. They were spinning so viciously, so madly, so impossibly quickly, that not a creature would not fear them.
More continued to drop from the sky, moving and dancing across the plain, so fast and so many of them. Rego now saw Air in all its might. The columns spun and twisted and raced forward until Rego faced a line of them. They halted for a moment and waited, levelling up: Air’s battalion.
But they didn’t remain still long. Three columns detached from the rest and rushed forwards. They ripped through the plain as they came, tearing it to slivers and shreds as they moved. Rego breathed deeply, and made sure his feet were planted firm. I am Lord of Earth, he thought. He raised his left hand and pulled up a wall of soil from the ground. It immediately cut one column apart and it disappeared. The second column began circling him, swapping places with the third now and then, playing with him, provoking him. But Rego would not play such games. He flicked his other hand, and the ground beneath the second column bulged out, tipping the second column into the third. The winds of the columns mixed with each other, breaking each other until they both vanished.
I am the Lord of Earth, he thought again. All of the remaining columns spun towards him. They circled him and closed him in. Rego sensed Air’s anger. All he could hear was the sound of rushing winds. Winds that whipped at his body, that punched him, and stamped and slapped him. The air about him was going so quickly he was struggling to catch any to breathe. But the mountain had taught Rego how to survive with only little breath and he stayed upright, standing tall against the surging winds.
The columns stopped circling him and re-formed their line. That had just been intimidation, Rego realised. Slowly though the columns began to advance, and some part of him wanted to step backwards like before, to turn and run from these oncoming, impossible columns of wind. But he didn’t. He stood still, bracing himself, readying himself. He was Lord of Earth, the future King, he told himself, and this gave him strength. He saw a girl, she was there and gone in his mind so quickly that he barely even saw her. But she gave him strength too.
The gap between the columns and him narrowed. The line of destruction crept closer, and Rego could now see their wrath. The devastation at their base was vast, rocks and everything plucked up with ease by the winds and hurled without effort. Think what they could do to him, Rego thought. They could rip him to dust. And they could rip that dust apart too.
No, he said to himself. I am the Lord of Earth.
The line was right ahead of him, perfectly straight, primed to kill. ‘Is this supposed to frighten me?’ he cried. ‘Is this all you have to show?’ His words were lost in the winds. But these winds rose around him and so he knew Air had heard. They were magnificently fast now. ‘That is not enough, Air!’ He shouted. ‘I am Lord of Earth!’
He raised both his arms and swung them high. Ahead of him the ground rippled and pulsed. And then, right where the spiraling columns of air were spinning, a range of mountains spouted, surging upwards, rising into the sky. The columns were pushed high into the blueness above. The columns fell apart, for winds cannot rage where even Air cannot fly.
The plain was suddenly silent and still again. It had turned brooding and moody, and soil sat in small heaps and mounds marking patches of devastated ground. The winds had disappeared. Rego was unsure of victory, uncertain whether Air had accepted that it was beaten.
Nothing happened. There was only quietness.
Rego was about to shout again when he started to feel light-headed, like he wanted to fall asleep. He went to take a deep drag of air but his lungs found little. Around him the air was empty and sparse. No, Rego realised: there was just no air.
And now Rego understood what Air was doing. He acted quickly, raising both his arms again, causing earth to spring up and arch over his head until he was surrounded by a dome of rock and soil. The escaping air was trapped inside. ‘Air.’ He said breathlessly. ‘You cannot escape me. I know you are trying to kill me by leaving me with nothing to breathe but it will not work, because I will use earth to trap you and sweep you back. There is nothing you can do. Surrender. I have shown I can withstand your worst, and so you are mine to command. That is the way of the World.’
Rego swept the dome away. A faint breeze leapt up and a current of air rose to loop his ear. ‘Yes.’ It whispered faintly. And then this breeze died, and Rego knew that Air had been defeated.
Rego looked around at the plain. He raised his arm, and commanded the winds to rise. And they did. They swept across the landscape, brushing up anything that got in their way. Then he pulled his arms down, and a single column of spinning wind plunged from above and tore across the ground. Rego turned. The mountain range he had pulled from below remained. He raised his arms, and dragged it down. The mountains disappeared into the earth beneath.
Flatness was more beautiful, Rego thought. He walked away.
But as he walked, and thought, he realised that becoming Lord of Air had still not made him content. He was still without fulfillment. He thought that perhaps it was because he was not powerful enough yet, not quite close enough to becoming King. When he had mastered Water, he thought, perhaps then he would achieve the gratification he wanted.
So he left that land, and put the plain behind him.
He journeyed far, pursuing the third place the Traveller had told him. The journey was long, and he was alone, and he saw few people. He began to get angry; because he didn’t feel the happiness he thought he should feel, because he was becoming bored even with himself. At nights, he still dreamed of the girl.
Eventually he reached the land he sought, and here there was no doubt that this was Water’s dominion. Here the water fell like thunder. The noise filled the air, which was heavy and sagged with moisture.
Rego looked as the currents below him swirled and spun. To his left, water was falling from a much higher level into the river below, forming a solid, massive moving wall of water. It hit the surface and threw up balls of pearly mist. Rego breathed in the cool air, and the millions of particles that buzzed within, and surveyed the valley. He thought about the time it had taken for the waterfall to carve it; the water needed to cut through the rock. A constant roar hung around, made as water fell upon water below, churning, mixing, rising and falling in a frenzied turbulence. Rego sensed that words could never describe the impossible magnificence of the sight before him. All the Oceans and the Seas of the World, he thought, and all the rivers and lakes and rain showers, all looked to here; here where Water was sovereign.
Rego peered down into the base of one of the waterfalls. He determined that this was where he had to go for there was where the water would be at its heaviest.
He jumped. He fell and fell, and the air rushed past him, and he kept falling and falling until he hit the water below. He broke through the surface, and disappeared underwater. He rose and swam towards the waterfall. The currents were trying to brush him in the other direction. They were strong and he had to use every bit of strength in his body to make his way upstream. As he got closer, the currents increased and Rego knew that Water was trying to push him away. But that didn’t work for Earth, he thought. He couldn’t be diverted that easily.
He swam on and slowly the waterfall came closer. The sounds of it became so loud that he had to swim underwater to escape the thunderous roar. He broke to the surface again and took a breath. The noise filled his ears, the mist his nostrils. The falls were close now. He reached out and pulled his body forward, flailing against the rushing currents. Ahead the water was tumbling onto a series of large boulders and stones, which shone with slipperiness. Rego continued until he could reach out and grasp one. He pulled himself up.
These stones formed a pathway that led beneath the falls. Rego stood, and balanced precariously. He began to move across the stones, stepping lightly to avoid slipping. If he did he knew he would be beaten back by the currents to the distanc
e and beyond. The falls drew closer, and the noise loudened. Besides the rock pathway, the waters were white and foaming as water mixed frantically. The air felt cooler as Rego was shielded from the Sun by the thick mist. He was near the wall of water, and Rego thought he could see the stone of the valley behind the clear water. It was time.
‘Water! He shouted. ‘I challenge you for your power!’
Water responded immediately. The waters increased, and fell more heavily into the valley. The noise grew and the mist expanded. The valley sides turned into waterfalls too.
Rego turned back to the main fall and laughed. ‘Water, your friends Air and Earth acted the same. They thought they could beat me too. Yet I conquered them and their powers are now mine. As yours shall be soon.’
The waters grew. Through the roar, a deep and echoing voice bellowed out, so deep it made even the hairs on Rego’s body stand rigid. ‘But I am Water.’ It said. ‘You couldn’t imagine what I can do.’
Rego stepped forward, straight into the surging wall of water. It cut into him and Rego felt its weight pushing down. He held out his arms and let the water wash over him. He would not be broken. So the waters strengthened, and the weight increased as Water fought back. Rego felt his neck straining and his arms being thrust down. But he stayed upright and firm, for he would not be broken.
The currents kept rising. Water was being pulled in from all around, from every lake and river nearby, all to be dropped upon Rego. And then when Water realised that this wasn’t enough, that Rego wouldn’t be broken by this strategy, it summoned the rain clouds and rain storms which cracked and sprayed down upon him too. But still he did not break. He stayed fixed and silent, showing Water that he could withstand whatever it did.
And so Water did all that it knew, and sent even more water down. But it couldn’t beat this boy. The boy refused to be broken. He wouldn’t fail. He wouldn't die. So I’ll drown him, Water thought, and it pulled all the water back from the river to create a massive wave, which it set upon him.
But Rego saw it coming and with a clap of his hands the valley walls came crashing down on this wave. ‘Did you forget, Water.’ He cried. ‘I am the Lord of Earth.’
So Water summoned so much rain that Rego couldn’t breath through the incessant downpour. But Rego simply pulled one arm across his body and wind rushed in to beat this rain away.
‘Did you forget, Water.’ Rego laughed. ‘I am Lord of Air too!’
The rains went and the currents stopped. The waterfall quietened and the river drained away. The valley became dry. All was silent.
‘Water, it is finished.’ Rego shouted. But Water did not respond and Rego began to feel uncomfortable. He was right to be. He heard it first: a growl grew in the far distance. Then he felt the ground began to shake.
‘You fool.’ Water said. ‘You think standing up against a waterfall shows you have beaten me? You think because you can survive the rain it grants you victory? No. They are nothing compared to where my true powers lie. You forget, boy, what else I am too.’
Rego looked out into the distance. A wall of water, so high, so impossibly high, was rushing towards him, breaking through everything in its path.
Water spoke again: ‘Let us see you defeat an entire ocean.’
Rego looked around, at first worried, and then he began to smile once more. ‘I told you,’ he said, ‘I am the Lord of Earth.’ He moved his arms to his sides and lifted them. At once, the ground beneath him rose, bursting up towards the sun and the sky and the distant stars. Rego looked down. The Ocean was crashing into the base of the mountains he had just formed, swirling around angrily. Waves leapt up towards the peaks like wild animals trying to get prey from a tree.
Rego peered down at the raging ocean below. ‘What have you left, Water?’ He cried. ‘What more have you got to throw against me? I have withstood every power you have.’
At his words, the ocean receded. As it went, Rego let the mountains sink back into the ground. The Waterfall was now dry, and only a small pool of water remained in the mighty river. A faint voice rose up from this puddle. ‘We are yours,’ was all it said. And then this small pool disappeared too and no water remained where once it had been universal. Rego lifted his hands. Water poured from the sky and rushed from the sides of the valley. He dropped his hands and the waters waned away.
He was now the Lord of Water. He walked down the empty river, waiting for the rush of satisfaction and happiness he expected. He walked as he waited, and when it did not come he kept walking to help his waiting. But it never came. By nightfall, he realised it would not come.
Still he did not feel happy. Even though three elements were his, even though the Kingdom of all the World was but one away, he did not feel happy. It must come following the defeat of Fire, Rego thought. It will come upon Kingship. That was the only remaining possibility.
And so he journeyed to the land of Fire. But as he went, he began to worry, for what if did not attain the happiness he had set out for? He tried to forget such fears, but they remained ever present. Only in sleep did he find respite.
Fire held dominion in a land far from that of Water, and he whiled the journey away in worry and anger. Once he arrived in the land of Fire, he found the mountain in which it dwelled easily, for he simply followed the heat. It was of an intensity he had never known. The sky here was a stark black, lit up in an orange hue by the raging furnaces below. There were no stars: only darkness and the heat, only the fumes and the rage.
Fire was the most fearsome of the elements, Rego thought. And he was scared. He knew the sweat he felt wasn’t just from warmth. He listened as the mountain grumbled and moaned, he watched as it spewed liquid rock and searing flame. Fire didn’t even know Rego stood near and this was how it acted. Think, Rego thought, of what it will do when it does know, when it comes to learn what I plan to have.
He walked forward. Fountains of flame rose to his sides, bits of steaming rock lurched overhead, ash and sparks fell upon him constantly. But he kept walking. When he was close to the slopes of the mountain, he stopped. Almost choking on the thick air, he shouted: ‘Fire. I have conquered your friends Earth, Air and Water. I am the true master of the elements. Now I must have you.’
His words disappeared into the darkness, engulfed by the fires and heat. But the reply was instant. A massive burst of rock and rubble and smoke punched up from the mountain towards the ceiling of the sky. Rego watched as the night was replaced by a seething mess of grey cloud and roaring fire, lit up by blades of lightning. These clouds grew and spread until the blackness had turned to grey.
From the mountain a crackling, hoarse voice spoke: ‘We elements are not friends. Their defeat is nothing to me. You can conquer Air, Earth and Water easily. But I am Fire. I am the tamer of man. I am the vengeance and the fury, and I shall not be so simple.'
Rego watched as the mountain in front of him grew, until its shape was all contorted. Then the top of the mountain disappeared. A river of burning red liquid began to gush from the gap. It poured down the sides of the mountain towards him. The voice spoke again: ‘Let us see you vanquish lava.’ The air hissed. ‘I am Fire. I am the fury.’
Rego watched as waves of red-hot rock spilled towards him, crashing and thrusting over each other like a rough sea. They reached around everything in their path, covering all in a steaming slick that melted and added to the fiery potion. The waves leapt up high and tumbled forward. They turned everything to nothing and made the air burn hot. Rego watched them draw close, break on the rocks ahead and cast tongues of fire that landed just ahead. He lifted his arms and called back to Fire. ‘And I am the Lord of the Earth.’ He swept both hands to one side and the ground below the waves tilted. They spilled sideways, running into the distance to wreak destruction on empty land far away.
Fire snarled. ‘That was nothing,’ it shouted. ‘I am the vengeance.’
The clouds that were bubbling and burning above the mountain came crashing down, breaking on the mountain’
s rim. They began to spew outwards, surging along the ground in a wall of dust and burning gas. Rego looked as the walls of dust rushed forward. They were impenetrable and solid and deadly. Rego raised his voice and called back: ‘And I am the Lord of Water.’ He summoned water, and it burst from the ground in a perpetual stream. It flowed towards the wall of burning gas. From above, thick rainstorms built and poured down. The wall of gas and dust slowed as it was doused by water. Rego called on the rivers, and they answered. A torrent of water appeared in the distance. It overwhelmed the dust and gas until it disappeared and nothing remained.
‘What more have you, Fire?’ Rego called. ‘I have withstood your all. Your powers are now mine.’
Fire didn’t respond at first. Rego’s words hung in the air and then dropped away into the dark. Then, in a voice dauntingly sinister, it replied: ‘ I am Fire. I am the tamer of man.’
A circle of flame enveloped him. It burnt orange and red and flicked inwards. Rego became trapped. The flames began to squeeze together. ‘And I am the master of air.’ He shouted back.
Once more he lifted his arms, pulling them towards his head. Like the sound of a deep breath, the air was sucked upwards from the sky above the flames. The flames stammered, and stuttered, and then they failed, sinking to the ground and then to nothing.
Rego shouted. ‘I have conquered Earth, defeated Air, subdued water and tamed Fire. I am King of all the World.’
The ground tossed and lurched, and the night sky became alight with redness. The fire mountain disappeared as a crater opened beneath it. From this opening, black gas and rock spewed up into the air. It layered the sky. ‘I am Fire and I shall not be defeated.’ Fire screamed. Rego looked upwards as the gas and rock spread across the sky until everywhere was covered in a thick blanket of blackness. No light would ever break through such a covering. ‘Where will you be without the Sun?’ shouted Fire cruelly. ‘Your crops will die as they lose the light, and then all plants will die too. You will be left without food and breath. Your arrogance has killed everyone, boy. I am Fire, the vengeance, the fury, the tamer of man.’
‘And I am Rego.’ He called. ‘I am King.’ He lifted his arms and he summoned an ocean. It broke the horizon and sprang forwards, tipping into the crater, smothering it in cool water that doused the heat and energy and sent steam spiraling into the night sky. He summoned the clouds to rain upon the layer of gas, and large drops struck down until the skies were clear again. He called on Earth and the soil leapt up and covered the caldera until it had disappeared and the ground was flat once more. And then he summoned wind, and the little flame in which Fire now flickered far in the distance was caught in a turning column of air.
Rego pulled it towards him. ‘Fire.’ He shouted. ‘You have been defeated, destroyed, conquered, captured. Every power you possessed was not enough to defeat me. I have withstood you and now your powers are mine: that is the way of the World. I am Rego. I am the tamer of Fire. I am King of all the World.’
The small flame inside the spinning column went out and Rego knew that Fire had surrendered.
He was now Lord of Fire.
He was now King.
And now he prepared for the coming euphoria. He primed for the approaching joy owed him on achieving Kingship. He waited, and he waited. He did nothing but wait until he grew tired and his body felt worn from waiting.
But it did not come.
Rego did not understand. He had become King, because he had conquered the elements. He had achieved what he had wanted to achieve, and yet he was not happy. And because he was not happy, he began to get angry. Inside he seethed at the world and his situation. Why was he not happy? Why had the Oracle not granted him happiness? He paced and swore, but he would not be calmed. Time brought no healing to his mood.
And then this anger turned to fear. Perhaps he had not become King? Perhaps there was still more that had to be done? Perhaps the Oracle had lied? But after a few hours he realised that a King was only superior by relation to the lesser. Only the presence of others could make a King a King. And Rego realised he had been alone since he had defeated the elements. So he resolved to find others, so that he could truly feel regal. And then, he thought, he would find the happiness he hoped for.
So he left the Fire Mountain and went in pursuit of humanity. He walked fast, his pace testament to his desperation for vindication. He came to a village. It was quiet when he entered, and dawn still lingered. Slowly people emerged from their houses to greet their visitor. A large crowd assembled as the entire village wanted to see this stranger. When the crowd had stopped growing Rego shouted: ‘Your King is come!’. He shouted so that all could hear. No one answered and so Rego shouted again. ‘I am King of all the World.’
An elderly man came through the crowd and stood before Rego. ‘We have no King here.’ He said plainly.
Rego stared at him, and breathed deeply. ‘I am King of all the World.’ Rego said again. ‘I am your King.’
‘We have no King here.’ The man replied quietly. He walked away and the crowd left with him. Some went laughing.
Rego stormed away. He put the village behind him and embraced the wilderness. His rage became all-consuming, and nothing could keep it within. His body began to convulse with anger. His heart beat with fury, his skin flushed with rage. So he wasn’t King. Still, after everything, he was not King. He had conquered the forces that shape the world, and yet had nothing to show for such sacrifice. He was without the crown and without happiness.
The Oracle had lied to him.
Rego looked around him. He looked at the World that still refused to accept him as King; that still refused to grant him happiness. The landscape about him teemed with nature and life. But in his rage, he did not see its beauty: he saw only a World that wasn’t his.
A river ran nearby, and the waters were white with speed. He lifted the waters from the channel and up they rose. He summoned wind and it began to blow. He picked up the water with the wind and unleashed it on the surrounding land. Nothing survived the waters. Trees were pulled, and hillsides carved by the torrent.
But that was not enough, for Rego was still seized by fury. So he called upon Fire, and up it rose to his sides. He pushed it away, and it flew around the land until everything was black and charred. But even when the land around was dead, Rego still continued. He kept the fires raging, and the waters drowning and the winds hurtling, until the dead land had been extinguished in entirety and nothing remained on the hillsides where life had once been bountiful.
Only then did he stop. But even then, even as he surveyed the destruction and devastation about him, still the anger remained. And this anger grew, for the regret at his actions he turned to rage too. He fell to his knees and looked around at the emptiness that had befallen. And as he looked his anger grew further still.
He focused it all on the Oracle. She had lied to him. She had told him how to become King and yet her words had been empty, for he was not King now. He convinced himself that she he had made him do this: that the Oracle had wrought this ruin, that his actions were her responsibility. And then he vowed that he would make her regret lying to him. He would make her sorry for turning the world to this wreck.
And so Rego left this ravaged land, overrun with anger. He left in pursuit of the Oracle, desperate to punish her for her lies that had pushed him to violent deeds. But as he went, as he embraced the anger, he began to feel a feeling he had taught himself to disregard. It was deep down, and he ignored it well, but it was there all the same. And that feeling was guilt.
It stuck silently in Rego’s pained heart. His heart hurt for the direction he walked was wrong.