Returning Home

[Dallid]

Dallid had been lost when he first arrived in the Sorrow Kingdom. As he breathed in his first breath of alien air, he wondered how Regis Mortem felt when he initially arrived on Phanterra all those eons ago. An entire world stood before him that could be drained to grant much needed strength to his own realm.

The concept was a horrible one, but didn’t the ends always justify the means when Phanterra was that end? Phanterra must always be the top and only priority. Always. It was the nature of the Cycle. Pointless for the predator to pity the prey.

But Dallid was *not* Regis Mortem. Phanterra was not Necromancy. Necromancy could only devour, could exist only through consumption. Phanterra had a naturally self-sustaining cycle. While consuming alien worlds would hasten its recovery from the recent cataclysm, Phanterra would eventually heal itself on its own, as it had after prior catastrophes. The need to consume was not an absolute.

Still, what animal would not kill prey in hand? No wolf would spare a rabbit caught in…

But that analogy was flawed. This was not wolf-vs.-rabbit, snake-vs.-mouse, or even predator-vs.-prey. These were sentient beings. These were Dallid’s equals in every way.

Save they were not Phanterrian, and therefore did not matter.

This logic did not sit right with Dallid, but he could not pin down why.

He had decided to talk his thoughts through with one of the residents of Sorrow. He had been about to put the man to sleep and take his essence for Phanterra, but perhaps if his ‘prey’ had a say in the matter, Dallid could better understand his role here, whatever that may be.

He sat beside the sorrow man. “You stand at a crossroads of profound importance.”

The man looked at him with confusion. Dallid could not blame him. He could not understand how his next words may decide the fate of both their worlds.
“Imagine you have a farm.” Dallid went on. “A farm that had suffered terribly in a recent disaster. Most of your crops and livestock were lost, and it would take you a long, long time to rebuild.”

“However your neighbor’s farm has had no such disaster. His farm is yet entirely intact. If you had the means to take his farm for your own, would you do so?”

The analogy sparked something in Dallid – the thought of community. “… Or would you try to approach your neighbor and work with him? Would you be stronger if you owned both farms outright, or if you and your neighbor stood together as friends?”

The sorrow man’s eyes lit up. “That’s what we’re trying to do! There are many of us who believe in what you are doing, and want to help! We want to work with you! I have come with information that could be very useful!”

The sorrow man continued to reveal all he knew about the Gloom King. He had misinterpreted Dallid’s intent, but his response lost none of its worth.

Phanterra was always the top and only priority, but could not be considered to stand alone. Like the citizens of Haven, Phanterra was part of a community – a community of worlds. They would stand much stronger working with one another than against each other.

So here he was now, moving a cart of seeds and a herd of livestock through the Rainbow Prince’s portal with the help of fellow Havenites and their new Rainbow Kingdom friends. Gifts from the Prince for Haven's assistance. New essence and new life arriving in Phanterra through cooperation and friendship rather than by death and destruction.

Dallid could not express how pleased he was. He was now certain that though the Cataclysm had made Necromancy an integral part of Phanterra, it did not mean she had to resort to its methods.