Signless
One of the failed heroes, in his new life as an ancient on this now brutal planet, began to remember. This is his story.
This is the story of the Signless.
Few ever knew the Sufferer's given name, presuming quite reasonably he had none, and he came to be called Signless. Unlike his peers distributed elsewhere in history, he was not given a sign at a young age. Alas, there were no signs reserved for one of his mutant blood. His genetic deviation from the social order made him a pariah, forcing him to wander the world alone for many sweeps, concealing the color of his blood to avoid certain execution.
But it may also have been due to his mutation that he began to have the visions. Spontaneous, lucid imagery of his world in peace, before its fall. He would never see the complete picture, or fully understand his previous incarnation's role in prompting this fall, or know of my hand in it. But the visions showed him all he needed to see. They held the promise of his people's true potential, beneath the ages of conditioned cruelty. They held the spark of revolution.
In time, the visions gave purpose to his travels. He would preach heretical ideas no one else had dared to entertain, let alone risk discussing. He espoused the virtues of forgiveness, compassion, and equality among all bloodlines. He distributed his message intelligently, careful to preach only to those receptive, never attracting unwelcome attention. But his growing movement could go unnoticed by the authorities for only so long.
The highbloods were livid over the unprecedented heresy, and soon, a massive sectarian war followed, spreading across the planet and throughout the galaxy. The conflict was lopsided of course, with the Highbloods given full support from the Condesce and her sea dwellers. Inevitably, the Signless would be captured, and when he was, it was not a matter of whether he would be put to the irons, but how hot they would be if he failed to recant.
During his penance, it was said the Sufferer's compassion for his people underwent a divine transformation, into limitless, burning rage. It burned hotter than the irons shackling him to the imperial flogging jut, and redder than the blood soaking his Righteous Leggings. When he was finally killed, his anger rung through the cosmos with his last breath. This Vast Expletive was his final sermon, and somewhere encoded in its wavelengths was the truth in his teachings, waiting to reveal itself to any who would inherit his burden.
His teachings would also persist through surviving disciples, but in hushed tones. His following would dwindle to an obscure cult facing persecution for centuries. After his execution, the body was burned leaving only his irons. They cooled in the ash, as if his anger itself was subsiding, and his followers appropriated their shapes in defiance of the Highbloods. The symbols became the sign of the Signless, always shown as colorless as the cold iron, to conceal the stigma of his hue. This was as much a reminder to his followers to remain hidden as it was of the Sufferer's sacrifice, and his rage hidden like heat in the iron, one day to be reignited by another of his bloodline.
The Sufferer preached that after he passed, another Signless would come, heralding the end times for their planet. The Second Signless would continue his work, and lead his people to glory beyond this realm. The followers kept his teachings alive for ages, even as the uproar surrounding the movement subsided. By modern times, the Sufferer's scripture was little more than ancient superstition all but forgotten. Hardly the anathema of old. But the followers had already made their preparations in the shadows, and when the Second Signless finally came he would have a lusus to raise him and a sign to his name.
The Sufferer required a less conventional upbringing to reach maturity. As a young grub, he landed in the brooding caverns where he would be expected to face his trials. But due to his mutation, surely no lusus would select him. No creature sympathetic to his scent had been bred yet. His odds for survival would have been remote, if not for a chance encounter.
The Dolorosa belonged to the rare class assigned strictly to serving the mother grub in the caverns, forbidden from visiting the surface. While on an errand, she found the young Sufferer in his crater and immediately recognized the child as special, as well as in great danger. For an adult troll to raise a child was unthinkable, but she saw no other hope for him. The Dolorosa abandoned her duties in the caverns, and fled to the surface to raise him.
In time, she would become the first follower of his teachings, and the first of his inner circle. But not his closest.
Surrounding him on his rise to infamy and throughout the rebellion were the most trusted elites among his devoted. The iioniic was a mage of unequaled telekinetic ability, who upon hearing the words of the Sufferer was inspired to free himself from the sort of slavery typical of his mentally gifted class.
But his most devoted of all was his Disciple. She listened to every vision he retold, every lesson he preached, and faithfully recorded his scripture. Her ear was open to him always, and in time, his heart opened to her. To spread his message throughout the world they took to the seas in the vessel of legend known as the First Ship. It was said their love went beyond the four quadrants, transcending the grid entirely. Whatever that nonsense actually means.