For three years not a living soul knew about the little creature that played in the ruins of Obleithe.
The old volcano looming over the remains of the once-great city knew him well, though. It was as if when he entered the realm, all of its fire had gone with him; it had laid dormant ever since. Not that anyone was there to record such a thing. The whole domain had been abandoned by the Verdant’s for centuries.
Amongst the others in a small selection of things that knew of the young idol were the vibrant wildflowers and the persistent weeds sprouting up through the cracks in what were once pristine marble streets. These plants lacked any civility towards each other but could agree upon at least this one thing- he was a real menace, and made a habit of disrupting the peace.
That being said, at least he was interesting to watch.
Everything about him was at odds with his environment: his appearance, his voice, his actions… Were anyone there to see him in his first year alive, it would have been comical. The grass “was” green, his body had the orange glow (and temperature) of molten lava. The rubble of the city blew away in the insistent gusts that roared through the desolate valley, but the weight of a rock head and pebbles littered across his body like freckles sufficiently defied the local weather.
In truth, the idol didn’t really know anything, in the beginning. Except that his name was Janus, his home was these ruins and that his touch changed things.
He started with melting stuff. There may have only been one statue left in halfway-decent shape within a thousand-mile radius but as it turned out there was an overabundance of stone fingers and knees just lying around everywhere, asking to be changed. Janus obliged. There were also dead trees to be burned down, and all sorts of random pieces of trinkets littered under crumbled walls and doorways to be rid of. The idol had no qualms melting things; it was quite fun.
Then one day he almost stumbled over a golden chalice.
“Give it” he thought. “…shiny”. He reached down to it, but paused a couple inches from the gilded surface. He grunted and plopped down to the dirt, examining it. Maybe this was something he didn’t want to melt. It really was pretty-looking, glinting in the rays of the valley sunset and all.
If he could only touch it…
Suddenly his fingertips felt strangely solid. He glanced down at himself and found that, to his surprise, they had cooled to rock, morphing back to lava where his fingers met his palms.
Excited at his discovery, he reached once again for the chalice, hesitating ever so slightly before grabbing it. He released a breath of immense relief when it didn’t immediately liquefy. He happily hummed to himself and moved it so the sunlight glared straight off of it into his eye. He hissed in pain, squeezing them shut, and by the time he’d looked back the chalice was a puddle of vaguely gold muck seeping into the dirt, as his fingers returned to their original molten state.
Later in his existence he would go on to create many a beautiful chalice to make up for the destruction of this one, but in the meantime all he could do was offer its remains his first ever tear. It steamed before it even left his eye, leaving his sight blurred, yet he had never had a clearer vision:
There would be no more melting things when there were such gorgeous things to find, instead.
The next year was spent collecting as many bits and pieces of pretty things as possible. Anything Janus could find, he took- gems, shreds of sketched-on papyrus, chips of glass, everything interesting within the limits of the city rubble. When he managed to fill a small hut with piles of such objects, things started getting more difficult. He became lucky to find one pretty thing a day, and it took no small deal of determination to do so. On top of that, it seemed that he’d already looted the city of all its larger remnants of riches.
As his piles of little wonders slowly stopped building, a deep sense of anxiety took hold in their place.
There were words to put the emotion to, but (though completely unaware of it) Janus did everything possible to avoid such a thought. Instead, he only delved deeper into his objective: find every beautiful thing in the city. Surely he had yet to accomplish it.
The days flew faster as the seasons changed, but his expeditions grew longer. His search took him to every nook and cranny of the ruins, from the base of the volcano to the edge of the grassy expanse that laid beyond the remains of a grand wall seeming to encircle the whole territory.
He was standing at what once was a grand gate to the outside of the city as for the first time, the sun set on a day when he had found nothing. It lazily dipped under a distant pair of round hills, leaving hues of pink and purple in its wake. Janus was too materialistic at the time to even consider that the sunset could count as his “pretty thing” for the day, so the lifting of the moon and stars only served to sink his mood.
He slowly sat down, feeling the vegetation burn in a circle around him. He gazed off into the distance.
There was a lot more grass, this variant being yellow and just tall enough to conceal his body if he were to walk into it. Beyond that, rolling hills covered in even more of it and the occasional boulder. Past that… he had no idea. He had never left the ruins of his home.
Home. Janus considered the word. Is that what this is?
He tossed a glance over his shoulder to the wind-swept rubble and the abundance of greenery. It painted a beautiful picture, and yet…
“…There’s no one here but me, he thought to himself. Should it matter?” He sighed.
“What am I doing here?” he softly asked an empty valley.
“Only the Mother knew.”
The walk back to his pile of treasures was a somber one. The sky darkened above him and the chirping of crickets took the place of occasional birdsong.
By the time he’d wandered back to his collection he was more morose than he could remember. (Albeit that was only two years at the time, but it was still a tough night for him.) Yet something about the objects he’d found gave him a sense of pride to fill the void. Sure, he was alone here, but look at what accomplishments he could do all by himself! All of the city’s wonders gathered in one room.
The barest hint of a smile tugging at him, he picked up one of the many necklaces he’d found.
It may have been the purest of silver long ago, but now it lacked any shine. The cut gems dangling from it were clouded with age, and upon further examination it was visibly dirty.
Hmm. Maybe I should clean some of this stuff up, he pondered. It was a thought of shallow origin; nothing special.
But suddenly, he had an idea.
He worked through the night. Janus had no real need for sleep save for when he was tired of boredom, and this was perhaps the furthest from that he’d been since his melting days.
When the sun rose, he no longer held an ancient necklace, but a beautiful diadem of the brightest silver sheen, and with sparkling rubies encased at four peaks. How he had done it was a magic beyond the understanding of anyone but himself.
It dawned on him that he could probably do it again. And for the next few weeks, he did. By the time the moon had completed another cycle, every single one of those treasures had been either restored beyond its original form, or made to be something entirely different. At some point Janus advanced to where he could meld several things together. The last thing he created before he ran out of the items were shoulder-plates, a belt and boots for himself; he was quite tired of accidentally burning things.
When the treasures were restored, he looked to the ruins around him.
Who was to say what larger things he could remake? Buildings? Statues? Streets?
It didn’t satisfy the loneliness, but Janus now had something to latch on to when solitude tried to drown him- a purpose.
A year flew by. The idol was a changed being, and Obleithe, a changed city.
Its streets weren’t pristine, but they also weren’t cracked and bullied into becoming a habitat for those pesky flowers and weeds. Its buildings were quite small compared to their original height, made to match the size of their new architect, but the facades and pillars were of divine quality. There was an aura to the place; one at peace with nature, and entirely sheltered from the world.
As the summer sun came near to setting over the distant twin hills, Janus happily watched in a chair of his own making on top of the ruins of the wall. The wall was the one thing he’d never bothered with; it blocked too much of a gorgeous view to be properly restored.
He knew what he would be working on tomorrow. That old dome would make a nice library… He sipped on a hot coconut he’d burned a hole in earlier. “Wish I could restore words. Well, I guess empty books are better than none. A blank slate never hurt any-”
A nasty feeling suddenly came to him; like that of someone dipping their dirty fingers in your only drinking water.
He shot up from his seat, dropping the coconut, and hissed in discomfort. Something was tugging at his gut, pulling him back towards his treasure hut. It was a familiar call- somehow he knew exactly which creation was seemingly in peril.
The diadem.
He rushed back through the city streets, but it was a big valley. It took him about fifteen minutes to reach the hut, and the feeling was only intensifying. He froze in disbelief as the front of the renewed hut came into view.
The door was ajar. He’d closed it before he left; he knew he had.
Slowly he approached the room, sounds of light clanging coming from inside. He winced at them- that could be anything falling over, but then there was an airy, “Oh my, this one is just marvelous.”
He froze once again. “What was that?”
“Who was that?”
It was a short lived question. Immediately after he thought it, someone casually strolled out the door.
She paused at the sight of him, wearing his diadem and holding a golden bracelet. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Hello!”
He didn’t reply. Just stared in shock, “I’m not alone.”
She beamed at him. “I don’t know if you are the caretaker of this beautiful place, but if you are, you’ve done a wonderful job. And what a pleasant little pile of gifts!” she clucked. “All of them are so unique, I must tell you, but I tend to prefer the shiny things.” A mischievous wink, there, and she lifted up his bracelet. Rubbing her tummy she said “Tasty things are also quite nice. I don’t suppose you have any food for a weary old traveler?”
Janus finally managed to get words out. “Who ARE you?”
Her smile grew more knowing with a glint in her eyes. “Why, I am Pomona and I’ve been looking for this place for quite a while,” she said, looking him up and down.
“Who are you?”