This time the memory was different – hazy and disjointed, not to mention full of pain and suffering.
And yet Calen knew exactly what it depicted; it was the ascension, a process that seemed to be remarkably similar to the ritual he went through when he became a spirit.
The most notable difference was the fact that instead of one person, the ascension was conducted on two people simultaneously – and judging by the snippets he got it could accommodate as many people as needed.
In general everything about it was grander an bigger, but that wasn’t surprising since the ceremony turned you into a god.
Calen also noted that the memory was noticeably shorter than those before, and he even managed to get some regular sleep in.
As a result he woke up unusually early, almost an hour before sunrise – he assumed no one was up yet, so he quietly left the temple to train and stretch a bit before the big fight.
What he didn’t expect was to run into Tharion, who was quietly staring at his own statue.
Seeing the figure and the man side by side Calen sort of understood why Nickolas and Leon claimed they looked so alike.
The statue emanated the same feeling of severity and regal presence as the original – it wasn’t anything physical or even real, but somehow it was still there.
"Do you think people should be celebrated for their heroic deeds?" Tharion apparently sense his presence.
"I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, but if someone doesn’t want to be venerated then people should respect that."
"What about this case? I never wanted to be glorified, and they respected my wish in their own way – instead of clearly portraying me they chose this faceless statue with a masterless quote to depict the idea I represented."
"Since only those who have some context could decipher who the statue is based on, I don’t see an issue."
Tharion hummed quietly, as if pondering his words.
"Humans have truly mastered the art of bending rules – it’s how your society progresses, but it can be quite annoying when it concerns you directly."
Calen wondered whether he should ask about why Tharion became a Guardian right away, but the answer came before the question.
"She has a bad habit of starting to tell a story without any intention of finishing it." He sighed. "I can tell you why I stepped down from the divine throne of you want."
"There isn’t that much to the story – I simply realised that my position was antithetical to my domain."
"Just think about, a god of the humanity and everything it achieved, how could divinity reflect the efforts of the mortals? I could much better represent my domain if I became more like one of you, if I walked among you and tried to understand humanity first hand."
"And have you understood us?"
"I have – I lived among mortals for centuries as a champion and protector, I’ve seen all the beauty and ugliness your kind has to offer, but more importantly I understood things about myself."
A heavy gaze fell on Calen – this wasn’t a part of the story, it was an advice for someone who could one day become a Guardian.
"Divinity has its shackles, but so does the existence of a Guardian – I was a god for less than a day, and even that brief brush with true divinity fundamentally changed me. A first generation Guardian won’t ever find peace among mortals, the only people capable of understanding them are their peers."
"But second generation like Sylara won’t have issues like that."
"That’s true – but it’s also not the only downside of this job."
Tharion’s gaze returned to the statue.
"Guardians are only slightly easier to kill than gods – no matter how much your loved ones extend their lifespan, you will eventually outlive them. At some point lives of regular mortals will become so short to you that you won’t be able to connect with them at all, while growing closer to those who live longer will become scary, as you losing them will be so much more painful."
Calen knew there was a story, or perhaps hundreds of them, behind this statement, but he decided not to ask.
What Tharion said made sense from a logical standpoint, but at the same time he had a living counterexample in Sylara.
She was alive for fifteen centuries, give or take a few decades, and she didn’t show any signs of disassociation from regular people – in fact she was much more engaged with them than one would expect from a pseudo-god.
Seemingly sending his doubts, Tharion added:
"Sy is trying to circumvent the issue by surrounding herself with as many people as possible, but what will happen once she’s no longer needed to lead one of the last bastions of humanity?"
"The city belongs to her by right, she doesn’t have to stop governing it once the invasion is over."
"All cities eventually crumble to dust – and yet we will remain. Loneliness isn’t a possibility for us, it is a cerian future which we can only try to push back."
"What is the point of telling me all of this?"
"I want you to have a full understanding of all of this. Now should you ever stand before a choice between Godhood and rejecting the divine throne, you will know the choice isn’t as black and white as some others would have you believe."
"You’re not seriously telling me I should consider becoming a god after all the terrible things I learned about becoming one?"
"No, but there’s a third way out of it – you could relinquish your claim to the domain, and simply return to being mortal with no worries about the fundamental forces of nature. Well, you’d still be a powerful spirit, but it would be decidedly more manageable than a brush with divinity."
"I see." Calen nodded. "I think I’ll postpone my decision until I hear accounts from all the Guardians."
"Very well." Tharion sighed. "The others will rouse soon, start preparing yourself for the march."