“It is the only way I know how to describe them,” he admitted. “I feel as if I am going mad.”
“Every man is mad, it is only a matter to what degree,” Lucius declared.
“Then what could they mean?” Davius pressed, a note of despair hanging from his voice.
Lucius rose from the table, his unusually long black robes rustling behind him. He peered through a crack in his boarded-up window, a habit that had become customary when he was deep in thought. “I believe I will need some time to consider this,” he finally decided. “Please. Will yourself to paint. You inspire my mind when you do so.”
Disappointed, Davius nodded, moving towards his pallet listlessly. Yet it wasn’t too long before he found his flow, grateful for his friend’s gentle nudge. His latest focus was a pair of lovers, swirls of peach and golden yellow creating their intertwined bodies. Without realizing it, Davius had given the man sand colored hair, the woman, a lovely reddish gold, the forest and sage greens of their irises radiating from the white of their eyes. He had painted himself and Gaia, captured forever in a lovers’ embrace.
“Marvelous,” Lucius breathed from behind him.
Davius paused, studying his work.
“The man is you,” Lucius noted. “Is the lover real or a fantasy woman?”
Davius sighed. “Oh, she is very real. She is a slave, like me.”
“She is exquisite. Now I understand your desire for wages,” he said from behind a knowing smile.
Davius nodded. “I wish to earn enough to buy our freedom. It is my dream that one day we will be married, escaping to the countryside to raise our children. It will not be the same as our homeland, but I long to live in the woods once more.”
“I see.”
“She...she is in the blood dreams.”
Lucius was silent for a moment. “Do you know of Stoicism, Davius?”
Davius turned towards him, noticing for the first time that his eyes shone a magnificent ochre, like gold coins glinting in the sunlight. He nodded. “Yes, it is a branch of philosophy. I used to spend my free time in the forum, listening to the trending theories and latest arguments of its philosophers. Stoicism was a favorite topic among the old sages.”
“I am impressed,” Lucius remarked. “To the Stoic, nothing passes unexplained. The death of a loved one, the eruption of a volcano, the thunderstorm crashing through the sky. They believe that everything has a purpose and a reason in Nature, for Nature itself is god manifested into a material form. Therefore, everything that happens in Nature is the will of the Divine.
“The Greek and Roman gods also reveal themselves through nature. A great crash of thunder is Jupiter’s rage. An overturned ship is the curse of Neptune. A Stoic, however, would say that the reason it thundered was not simply because Jupiter is throwing a tantrum, but because it is a sign that something else significant will occur. Do you understand me so far?”
Davius nodded. It was not the first time Lucius had embarked on a long tirade of philosophical musings, nor the first time he’d shared his learnings of world religions. He relaxed, gliding his paintbrush seamlessly along the wall.
“Stoics also believe that there is a driving force within them, the soul,” Lucius continued. “Divinity is to Nature as the soul is to man. They believe that the human’s soul is preordained by destiny and controls a human’s decisions, further illustrating their theory that nothing passes unexplained. This soul is said to come from an even greater soul, a sort of collective consciousness, if you will. Although every human is different in appearance and personality, every soul still holds ties to its original form.”
Davius paused, a shiver running along his skin.
Lucius set his goblet down. “I think we should resume our conversation tomorrow. There is too much to discuss regarding this matter and morning approaches. Come at nightfall as usual, but tonight, be dressed in your best tunic. We should sit down together for a formal meal, no painting. I will pay you regardless. Do we have an accord?”
“Absolutely,” Davius replied, curious to know what more would be revealed.
“Good,” Lucius nodded, slipping his lithe form back into the folds of shadow, gesturing towards Davius’s unfinished work. “Now, back to the Lovers.”
Davius languidly shuffled home, watching as the stars and moon that had shone so brightly in the evening sky submitted to the now rising sun. Sapphire and turquoise splashed across the sky, interrupted by a faint rising pink, clouds pirouetting in their gentle dance of dawn. Although his body ached with exhaustion, he considered capturing the glory of the morning sky in paint. He envisioned mixing the perfect blend of vermillion and yellow ochre to create the orange, white and red lead for pink. He continued to muse as he walked, trying to ignore the throbbing ache of his limbs, when he heard a branch snap from the woods that flanked the path.
He tensed, squinting into the darkness. It was the curious hour where both day and nocturnal creatures slept, and the forest was eerily still. He saw nothing in its dense shadows that revealed the source of the sound, nevertheless, he quickened his pace. It was after a louder rustle interrupted his walk once more that he turned to see what stalked him, jumping back in alarm at what stood before him.
It was an enormous boar, doubling him in size, with two elongated husks protruding from a quivering snout that dripped with saliva. Davius snatched the knife from his thigh, carefully maneuvering backwards as he braced himself for the attack.
Yet the boar did not charge, its beady eyes gleaming through tufts of copper fur that seemed metallic in the moonlight, one eye interrupted by an angry scar that rendered it milky white. Davius realized the creature was not of this earth, but from beyond the physical realm. “Are you another daemon?” he whispered.
I am unlike that which you have seen before, the creature replied. I come to you as an ally, to warn you of what is to come.
Davius frowned. “Then what are you?”
There are so many questions, but time prevents me from answering them all. I come to you in disguise, one I cannot maintain for too long. I am being hunted as we speak. The boar began to pace around him, its one good eye piercing into his. Its muscular legs flexed slowly as it moved, causing ripples of brown and ecru fur. You must cease your visits with he who calls himself Lucius. Your visions are not dreams; they foretell of what may become.
“I am not a monster,” Davius snapped, surprised at the ease by which his ferocity came.
But you will be. He wishes to corrupt you, to use you for his own purpose. He is not what he says he is, and he cannot be allowed to continue his plans. He is powerful in this realm, yet he has no power over you. You must stay far away from him or your fate will be compromised.
“What are you?” Davius demanded once more. “How do you know Lucius? You must be a daemon.”
I am quite the opposite, coming to you in a form that will fool both him and his minions. There is much more to this world than you know, Davius. There is a Great War that wages as we speak. Not all can be revealed to you at this time, but you must heed my request. See the beast who calls himself Lucius no more.
As if startled by something unseen, the boar began to retreat.
“What war do you speak of?” Davius cried. “My dreams—what do they mean? Where are you going?” He panicked as the boar retreated back into the forest. “Come back here! What am I supposed to do?”
But it disappeared, the night silent once more.
Davius slumped down to his knees from where he stood, scooping breath back into his lungs. He was dizzy from the encounter, his palm raw from clutching his weapon. He sheathed it, attempting to gather his thoughts. The sun had started to rise, reminding him to return home.
Bracing himself, he found his legs.
