Peek: What Lies Beyond

Emarlo looks at the log he chose to craft with, wondering if he should pick something better. Most of the others have already started with their projects, taking to Lord Thedeim's afterlife with gusto. He's certainly not complaining, but he's worried the project he's chosen isn't good enough.

Lord Thedeim suggested chairs, and though most have moved on to making the large community workshop, Emarlo feels drawn to making a chair. There really is a lack of good seats around. Sure, there's a couple simple benches, but none are the real project that will help prepare them for what comes next.

It feels strange to the ratkin that a chair might be that for him, but despite his misgivings, he knows in his heart that this is what he needs. The log is a perfect fit for him. It's has so many knots, and it seems to have a bit of rot set in, too. Part of him demands he chop it into fire wood and toss it into the hearth, but he ignores it. This log is his life, and despite the flaws, he knows there must me something he can do with it. Lord Thediem seemed confident, after all.

So he takes a chisel made from the hardships of life and starts carving. The rot and doubt are removed first, and though he would have expected them to be most of the log, the pile of shavings is smaller than he expected. The first part is always the hardest, the first hurdle the tallest, and now the log is clean, he takes the fouled wood to the hearth to get a bit of warmth even from the worst of him.

He sets the log up on one of the cut ends, taking some time to plan out his chair. There's still so much he can and should leave behind, so little he can see right now that's worth keeping. But there's a lot more to the log and to his life than can be revealed at a simple glance.

Wrongs against him he's clung to, wrongs he's done that he never atoned for, the petty small things that are so easy to let pile up; all are slowly carved away, let go. He forgives the wrongs against him, and when he burns them in the hearth, he can chat with the others, hear their own stories and regrets, and get perspective on his own, and sometimes forgiveness when the light of the flames reveals the transgressions against his fellows.

It hurts to know he hurt them, but to forgive and be forgiven is the comforting warmth of the fire of the hearth in the workshop. There is so much to remove, so much to process, that when he realizes he's done with most of it, it comes as a shock.

And what he sees in his chair is even more of a shock. The little gifts he's given to friends, family, strangers, the times he's been a shoulder to cry on, or a hand to uplift; every burden he helped carry, literally and figuratively, all the little things that seemed so small in the moment, he sees now as the foundation of his life and his chair.

He feels a soft orange glow and approval from behind him, but when he turns, Lord Thedeim is already gone. The encouragement remains, however. He sands with the pain of a scraped knee and the grit of determination, bringing the grain of his life out for all to see. The knots of the hardships of life bring interesting shape to the grain, the difficulties helping the triumphs stand out all the more.

He stains it with the blood he spilled, of his enemies and his own, the sweat of working the smelter and of building the courage to talk to that pretty girl, and the tears of triumph and despair. Life is all of that and more, and he works to bring it all into perfect focus.

When he's done carving, it looks good, but it's missing something. He weaves a seat and backing, filling it with friends and family, relishing in their comfort and support. Training together, planning pranks, sharing meals, singing, dancing, laughing, crying; all the comfort of those around him all his life. Some were there from the beginning, some only at the end, and others staying only briefly, but all helped make life better.

He sets the cushions and smiles at his work, taking a seat and closing his eyes as he contemplates his life. He thinks it was harder than most, but when it's all said and done, would he have made as good of a chair if it was different? Maybe, maybe not. In the end, he supposes life is what you make of it.

The warmth of Lord Thedeim radiates from behind him, and he opens his eyes to smile at the incomprehensible orange void.

"That looks like a good chair, Emarlo."

He smiles, too satisfied with what he's done to get up and kowtow, even as he knows Lord Thedeim doesn't want that kind of adoration. "I... I think it was, yeah."

"Are you ready to see what's next?"

Emarlo stands and nods. "I am. Not to... to go beyond yet, but to go back. I want to see more. There's so much here to see, I don't want to miss it."

Though he can't see Lord Thedeim's face, he can tell he's smiling at that. "I hope you'll have a more peaceful chair next time. This one came out beautiful, but I know it must not have been easy. I hope you'll be back before you go beyond, Emarlo. Good luck out there."

Emarlo feels himself drawn toward Lord Thedeim's orange void, and through something. His perception shifts, memories become hazy, and his eyes close as he curls up, feeling so very small. Around him is warmth and a gentle quiet rhythm beating. It lulls him to sleep, but he can feel one thought reverberating through his entire being, a thought that will guide him going forward.

Life is what you make of it.