Golden Diadem

I have successfully deceived a god. Now I can relax on top of the food chain with my fabricated dream and reap the benefits of my burning ambitions. Well, I could, technically, but that’s not why I played the part for all this time, have I?

Standing at the edge of the rooftop, I slip my hands into the pockets of my coat and pull it tighter around me, cold wind slashing my face and sinking into my bones. The glow behind every window paints the picture of a prosperous, lively land. Partially it’s true, for people like me, “blessed” with the golden diadem, those who have great dreams and strong ambition. Those who don’t meet the criteria never receive god’s blessing, and without it, without the diadem, they don’t matter.

“Bleurgh.”

The logic of the divine has always been above me.

I search for the only window that really interests me, this time through a magnifying lens. A six-storey building on the far east of the city, and those awful curtains. A number of colorful squares and rectangles sewn together. She’s never had a sense of style, whether it’s for herself or her home, but what she’s never lacked in creativity and passion for handiwork.

Before she shows up, I look away.

I always thought Liana would get the golden diadem, not me. Before I knew the truth, that is. When you’re a child born in this land, the first thing you learn is the importance of ambition. Parents, especially those at rock bottom, want to see their children on top, so they teach you to dream as big as you can, and then cry when you turn 20 and nothing changes.

“You haven’t tried hard enough,” they say. If they’re desperate enough, it comes with a beating.

But the kids are not the ones at fault. It’s not like it’s easy to make a god happy.

I would know. Besides my own carefully curated trials, I watched Liana try for years, coming up with more and more complicated dreams, having a go at them and becoming depressed because she wasn’t happy.

“You’re stupid,” I told her once. That was a time when we were neither strangers nor friends, though we have never been nothing to each other. “You’re wasting time trying to get some piece of metal that means nothing.”

“It means nothing to you,” Liana said, lying on the grass behind her house, soaking in the sun. That’s how she ‘healed’ after every failed trial. She spent a lot of time in the sun. “And because you like to remove yourself from the society, your opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Ouch.”

“You don’t care. Everyone else does. Where I end up in life depends on all those people who do care a lot about a piece of metal.”

“Is it fun being a prisoner of the world?”

She kept her eyes closed, crossing her arms on her chest. “Did someone invite you here?”

No one ever did, and yet I kept finding my way over. Whether I wanted to see Liana, hear Liana, or criticize her for the useless efforts. I only did because I hated how the world functioned and I knew she hated it too. I was always hoping we’d find a common ground.

We did. Somewhere between the ages of 13 and 18, in between all those trials and errors and many conversations about the ridiculousness of it all. We found a common ground, and I found myself unable to live without her. The feeling was always mutual, even if the execution was poor, but even if we stumbled, we stumbled together.

Then Liana, one year older than me, turned 20.

“I mean… I knew I wouldn’t get the diadem,” she said. That moment lives on inside my head, always tormenting me at the worst moments possible. It was a snowy night, darkness of the street splashed with warm yellow light, empty save for us two. We stood alone, leaning against the wooden fence in front of her house. Liana had taken one glove off to smoke a cigarette.

“I hate this smell so much,” I said, unwilling to talk about the divine acknowledgement, even if nothing could take her mind off of it.

“You hate everything,” she said.

“No, not everything.”

The smoke curled between snowflakes, wind pushing all of it my way.

Liana cried. She had never cried before, not in front of me, and I wasn’t ready for how much it would bother me. This wasn’t right.

“I’m so tired,” she sniffled. “I’ve tried everything. Just… how big of a dream does it have to be? Do I have to want the world? I… I don’t. I just don’t. It’s never going to change.”

I didn’t say anything. As she had said many times, I never cared. I never gave it much thought either. The system was meaningless and ridiculous, and I knew how to get by without relying on it. And I didn’t see why Liana’s small dreams were supposed to be unimportant. A dream is a dream, each equally big depending on who dreams it.

“Why do you need that thing so badly?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably. That’s not what I wanted to say, but I’d never learned how to say things that carried heartfelt emotions.

“Because I want to matter! I don’t want to be forgotten and pushed off to the side because I wasn’t good enough to get the diadem!”

“Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?”

Never before had she looked at me with so much resentment and disdain. It was disorienting, unfamiliar, terrifying. “Do you realize how snobbish you sound? You criticize the society for classifying people into better and worse, but you’re always reminding me how much better you are. We get it, Amber, you’ve outsmarted the whole world.”

“Do you really think that’s why I tell you that? Because I want you to think you're worse?”

“You just want me to know you're better.”

Even though I imagined tearing that cigarette out of her hand, looking into her eyes and spilling my heart out, I didn’t.

In hindsight, she was right in many ways, but I wasn't ready to admit it. Yes, I believed myself to be better than others. Smarter. Like I was the only one capable of looking past the illusion.

I didn't show what I felt, mostly because feeling things was something I did a lot despite not being very skilled at it. Had I not been so closed off, maybe Liana would have had a chance to understand my choices.

That night I didn’t have the guts to be honest, so I spent the next year studying the system.

Who got chosen to receive a diadem and why? Which dreams and ambitions called out to god and which didn't? Once I understood that, I knew there was no way I would be getting a diadem. I didn’t dream that high and I didn’t try that hard.

But I needed one.

Liana and I never continued the conversation from that night. Things went on as they used to until the night before my birthday. Something changed, but the changes had been happening gradually for years, so no one really noticed when exactly Liana started smiling around me more often.

“At least we're stuck here together,” she said, voice muffled around a cigarette. “Isn't it really what life is about? Finding joy in everything?”

She was happy with me. She would probably convince herself that was enough. But it was never enough, not for me. Liana loved life, loved the world, and it never seemed to love her back, and maybe that's why I hated everything.

The next day, there was a golden diadem on my pillow. I haven't spoken with Liana ever since. Not because I got to move to the most prosperous and prestigious neighborhood in town, not because I was now pursuing a fake dream I created only to be gifted the diadem. Truth be told, I can’t explain the exact reason for our silence. I have long since used the divine powers of the diadem to rid myself of the memory of that day. The benefits of magic are plenty.

I didn't want to remember just how much Liana hated me. If I were to guess, she had probably called me a hypocrite. Probably said that I must have been expecting that, seeing how much better I considered myself.

I still wasn't able to tell her the truth, too scared she wouldn’t believe me.

No one ever did. You scared? No way. You like that? No way. There's no way you care about this. It seemed everyone who knew me had an idea of the person I was, distorted by everything they didn’t know about me. People don’t usually care about others enough to look beyond their own perception, selfish no matter what.

I didn't want Liana out of all people to be the witness to my true feelings, in case she was going to frown and say there was no way I loved or cared about her.

I'm not quite sure if what I'm about to do will change me. The dream I have now far exceeds the ambition I created for the sake of receiving the diadem, that first row seat, but I'll probably still be as scared of Liana not believing in my feelings as I have always been.

This will hopefully speak for me. Not everyone uses the divine power gifted to them to kill a deity.

Behind me, hinges squeal as the trap door opens.

“Are you done being edgy and staring mysteriously into the night?”

Pocketing the lens, I turn slowly. Dandy, my partner-in-crime, for lack of a better title, sticks his head out, grimacing against the cold as the wind tugs on his white locks.

“We have things to do,” he adds. “You know. That elaborate plan of yours to make your beloved–”

“Save your energy,” I say. “The more you talk, the worse your performance.”

“What, you measured that?” He rolls his eyes before his head disappears inside.

I give the city one more glance before diving head first into the dream I hid away. I'll kill the spoiled deity and put an end to this system. If it takes becoming a god myself, I'll do it too. Hopefully it won't come to that. As ready as I am for sacrifices, the idea alone is already unpleasant.

As long as I can create a world where a god doesn't pick and choose who to bless based on the size of their dream.

~~

Despite everything, seeing Liana after a year puts me at ease. Even if it’s like that, in the rain soaking me from head to toe, with an alarming amount of blood on my hands and clothes. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I couldn’t not see her tonight.

Still, I’m not sure where we stand.

After a moment of stillness, taking her not going back inside as a good sign, I clear my throat. “I don’t know if you want to see me, but I wanted you to find out before everyone else.”

“About what?”

“The god is gone. I killed it.”

The way she looks at me reminds me I have never been good with the word choice.

“Not really,” I add. “Kind of. Almost. It doesn’t matter. No one’s actually dead. I just…” I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, the clean part. “It’s a long story. What I’m trying to say is that it’s the end of the golden diadems and all of that. The beginning of an end, actually.”

I’m nervous. Being honest with my feelings has become a foreign concept. Even if I know what I feel, saying it out loud is like trying to speak a language I’ve never learned.

But I have to speak now. I said a lot to Liana, but never enough.

“That’s the only reason I got the diadem in the first place,” I say, letting the words come to me, no matter how messy. “A master plan. A well thought-out lie. That’s all. I just needed to get to a position where I could do something about it and-“

“You… you got a diadem for wanting to kill a god?!”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. I got it for wanting to change the world. No one knew about that part.”

Liana scoffs. “And you tell me you don’t care while you’re out there with the most outrageous goal in the world.”

“It does not matter,” I say, tired, aching. That has been a long night, and it’s still not over, and we’re already fighting. It’s like no time has passed.

“That was always the point,” I say. “A goal or not, a diadem or not, it does not matter, Liana. Whether this goal had driven me mad, whether I overstepped, none of this matters. Do you still want that thing? Even if it’s irrelevant?”

I raise my hand, the diadem trying to pierce through my skin. I have no use for that.

“It’ll always be relevant,” she says. “People don’t change so easily. This is ingrained in everyone around here-“

“Is it? Or do you need it to feel good about yourself?”

“Who says that now? Was it fun playing the savior?”

Has Liana never knew me at all, or have I concealed my true intentions so well that it was impossible for her to see me?

“No,” I say. “I dislike hard work. I’m not a good planner. Dealing with people drains me. Of course it wasn’t fun. Do you not know a single thing about me?”

“And yet-“

“And yet what? Don’t put me in the spotlight when you’re the one desperate for it.”

She grits her teeth and says, “I’m not desperate.”

I haven’t anticipated a moment where my resolve would crack. All those years of keeping to myself in fear of not being understood fade away now. Whether she gets it or not, at least she’ll hear me say it.

“I’ve never done anything for myself,” I say, shoulders dropping heavily. “If I were to care about myself the most, I’d still be here, finding ways to dodge the world. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.”

She opens her mouth, but it’s me still talking. It’s been a long time coming, like a flood when the dam finally breaks.

“I thought this system was killing you, and even if I didn’t care, all I ever wanted was to change it so that you could finally be happy and just live your life instead of endlessly trying to get that useless diadem.”

Her voice is quiet. “You don’t care enough to do things for other people.”

“Have you ever considered your perception of me is just wrong?” That silences her. “Not all of it. I do think I’m better than most people. I think I’m smarter. I think my way of looking at the world is better. I think if someone like me ruled from the start, everything would have been better. But I don’t deserve better. I think you deserve better, with a diadem or without it. Whether you change the world or make another hideous curtain that will make you happy.”

I loosen the grip on the diadem I’ve been clutching. Everything – the rain, my clothes sticking to my skin, the smell of blood – is not enough to distract me.

The diadem lands at her feet.

Maybe I have made a mistake. Maybe she would have found happiness with me if I had stayed at the rock bottom with her. The diadem, even if for a fake dream, changed a lot more than I expected it to.

“I wanted to make you happy, but now I realize you never will be. The system has never been the problem. You are.”

“Is that your way of saying goodbye?”

“It’s a new way of saying what I’ve always been saying. You’re stupid. You’ve wasted an abnormal amount of time.” You will never accept the way I am because it clashes with a goal that’s driving you crazy. Until you realize the magnitude of your dreams doesn’t make you any more worthy of respect, prosperity and happiness, nothing between us will really change.

Stepping backwards and holding her gaze, I add, “Unfortunately, I still want you to be happy, but I don’t think this can happen with me around. You’ll always look at me and think of the diadem. So… Perhaps one day I’ll see you again.”

The night isn't over yet, but first, I need to wash my hands.