[FanFic]Forsaken Soul:A Path to Enlightenment

[FanFic]Forsaken Soul:A Path to Enlightenment

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Posted by: Yalora Istairiea.6287

Yalora Istairiea.6287

Author’s Note:

This is the beginning of the Forsaken Soul Novella. This first Book I of the series is entitled “A Path to Enlightenment”. The entire story will consist of three separate books of which I very much advise that you read in order.

Chapter 4, directly below, IS the opening chapter, so you have not missed anything.

If you like the story, please put your +1’s on this first post as opposed to my subsequent submissions.
___________________________________________________________

Table Of Contents:

Chapter 4 – Beginning
x21.0001-.0004
Chapter 5 – Alone
Chapter 6 – Friend
Chapter 7 – Dawn
x21.0005 -.0018
Chapter 8 – Survival
Chapter 9 – Exploration
x21.0019 – .0039
Chapter 10 – Sleep
Chapter 11 – Soliloquy
Chapter 12 – Confusion
Chapter 13 – Deep
Chapter 14 – Fall
Chapter 15 – Paradox
Chapter 16 – Dark
Chapter 17 – Light
Chapter 18 – Threshold
Chapter 19 – Destiny
Chapter 20 – Reckoning
Epilogue
_______________________________________________________________

Forsaken Soul: A Path to Enlightenment

Chapter 4 – Beginning

Pitch dark pierced by the occasional silvery shards filtered down from the opaque canopy above. The deep rich air of loam with every breath was near overwhelming. A high pitched trill seemed to emanate from everywhere. These were my first experiences, ever, or so it would seem.

Lying comfortably, staring at the forest ceiling, my inventory begins. Legs, check, arms, two, so far so good. I roll my head right then left, head uhhh, connected. Slowly I sit up. Torso in working order. In the faint silver light I give myself a rudimentary examination. Bones unbroken and no unexpected leaks to be found. Overall body condition, satisfactory. Thank the powers that be for small favors.

Scanning my surroundings left, straight and right, all yield the same, lush and overgrown. As I stand and turn, I am plunged into silence. It seems that the trilling whine only tolerated me low to the ground. Behind me mimicked my previous evaluation, foliage, foliage everywhere with nary a path to tread.

Looking down where my head had lain, a small bundle presents itself. Closer inspection reveals an oiled backpack with working shoulder straps, just waiting to be explored. A spare outfit, some food and water, a coil of jute rope, a small book and a dagger. Well dagger may be an overstatement, more so a small tool better suited for applying nut spread to scone, than functioning as a weapon. My entire worldly possessions, for all I know.

Being too dark to safely navigate, I back up against the course bark of nearest living skyscraper, for a bit of personal reflection. Ok, so who am I? Well I am Me of course, but a name, a name, my kingdom for a name. What am I doing here? This turned out to be equally as revealing as my previous question. In fact, when, where, why and how stand also, without clue. Wonderful, I have just given ‘screwed’ a whole new meaning.

Running my hands across my skull yields neither bump, nor bruise. I guess that’s something. No knock to the noggin is always a good thing. On the bright side, so far as I am able to ascertain, I seem to be sporting a clean bill of health. Let’s count that one in the plus column; cause if you have your health, you have, well, let’s just count it in the plus column.

So, ummm Me, what now? I don’t appear to be in any imminent danger, though this thought gives less comfort than one might imagine. When faced with my myriad of current options, sit and wait seems to be the best course of action.

A nice comfortable looking rock planted at the base of my tree is as good a spot to relax as any. In a small shining pool, created from a single shaft of moonlight on its final journey from on high; I pull over my pack to reexamine my current assets. A hand full of nut/seed mix and a few swigs of water later, it was time to take a closer look at that book.

It was not a weather worn gilded tome with reinforced spline and a fancy embossed title, as one might find secreted away in some dusty old library; more so it looked like a somewhat thin binding of a researchers notes to be lovingly cherished as one’s fount of insightful ramblings. They’ve been known to trap these kinds of things didn’t they? A firetrap explodes in the face of the idea stealing interloper, reminding them of the cost of purloined research. Yeah, that would surely ruffle one’s feathers and ruin their day. Hey, I got nothing but time here.

I crack the cover slowly, impending doom averted. Ah, the first page has both title and author, go figure. It reads: Abridged: The Seer’s Scrolls Vol 327 by Scholar Rolla. Turning the page, my adventure begins.

Post edited: to add table of contents

(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)

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Posted by: A Former Monk.4378

A Former Monk.4378

Liking it so far! I hope by “Seer” you mean the ancient race!

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Yalora Istairiea.6287

x21.0001-.0004

Abridged: The Seer’s Scrolls Vol 327 by Scholar Rolla krewe assigned Plaza of Lost Wisdom circuit 3 of 9
Initial through supplemental x.21.0001 – .0137

Completed and finalized Summation Instance
^dEFINE !parameters

  • Process: Synergetic Linguistic Transfer Algorithm
  • Baseline: Blimm’s Overtly Nonrefutable Constant
  • Design: The Inverse Hyperveyic Restrictive Matrix
  • Instrument: Octicore Overdrive Contrast Engine
  • Upgrade: ~n/(3.141592653589 x (occluded – 1/qq9)) using Rolla’s 11th Dimensional Interpretive Prediction Theory ver.138
  • Key: &&3.217#xvm74.74gamma

^dEFINE !

^sTART !initialize x.21.0001

A hush will rise across the land. Cold chills the bones, those of lesser faith. It has come, of reckoning, it will come.

It broke in ominous gray. Gone is the wispy orange and pale pink dawn. Gone is the healing warmth of Sun. Gone are the final wisps of courage. Despair of night falls.

Tales were told of corrupted Wilds. Metamorphose of Colossi fen. Portent professed and thrice ignored. No one came, no one comes.

Rain washes the land, biting cold with eldritch frost. Verdant and deadly, insane to hope, the lines have crossed. Silence shattered.

The Harbingers have ridden. Thou they are not seen, they will ride. The circle closes a corruption of time, something is changing, sans notice, it has changed.

The scales scheme and barter, with lives, with loves, with time. Crushed is the arch and the backbone on which it stood. Future looms on the brink of the past.

Far away casts lonely shadows, ever watchful and ever longing. Keening, piercing, grating across bone to the soul. For thee it will toll, it pealed, it tolls.

That which was lost, is found to be lost. It hides in a shroud of fabric, forgotten, forsaken, and forlorn. The cup has runneth over yet restoreth no souls.

Dark secrets came, come, are coming to the surface, bursting like pustules of corruption. Sickness, black as blood, it comes. Look to past dawn, astride Nightmare it rides.

Blessings count. The head is bared. The gods have saved though not today. From jungle’s depths … Harken and heed.

^eND !finalize x.21.0004

(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)

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Chapter 5 – Alone

Uhhh huh.

Sooo, yeah, on the ‘utterly useless’ scale, with ten being, ‘offering a drowning man a cup of water’, this information, would be an eleven. Synergetic Linguistic Transfer Algorithm, are they kidding me? What in the world is an Algorithm? Well I can comfortably say, my name is clearly not Rolla. So now were getting somewhere. At least I know who I am not, a proverbial step in the right direction I’m sure. I close the book more perplexed than when it was opened.

Why would someone, unconscious in the jungle, lacking memory and possessing the barest essentials for survival, be carrying such a work? Am I some feebleminded jungle librarian who wandered from the stacks in the dark of night? Possibly an errant messenger, who while traversing a jungle road, ate some memory erasing berries and ended up zigging when I should have zagged. Better yet, I might be a critically Mind Blasted spy carrying a secret code book to the leader of some foreign alley just in time to save the world? Well at least my imagination is still intact.

So back to my personal state of reality. At some unnoticed point, that trill had started anew. Curious how it sounds like its everywhere, yet the specific source remains a mystery. Darkness does not look to be releasing its hold of night. Another swig of water and I pull out the rope. It measures to be about sixty hands worth of common jute twist, sturdy enough to hold my roughly nine stones weight in a pinch, hopefully.

The only other pack content is the clothing. Upon further examination, the outfit turns out to be quite nice, courtly in fact. A fine woven silk gossamer blend of abyss, banana and plum. It appears I, or the person who packed for me, has quite the fashion sense. Just as I return my foppish attire to the pack, it starts to rain, hard.

And that’s when it struck. As if the darkness detached a piece of its essence, then gave it substance, claws and teeth. Instinctively, I dodged avoiding the initial strike unscathed. A crouching turn to face my attacker, hands outstretched in a hopefully menacing claw like pose and then, it all went away.

Dark as pitch, streaks of lightning boundless
Pins and needles, needles and pins, razors swift and sure
Brimstone and bile
Silence drowned by blood’s roar
Rend, shred, rip, gouge and tear
Doubt and fear instilled
Glut and gorge

The river of time flows, my awareness returns. The fugue releases its hold and I bear witness. Head to foot, covered in gore, I stare at the mangled mound of blood and bone, fur and flesh that was my attacker. Eyes wide and breath drawn, from the deepest depths I purge.

(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)

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Chapter 6 – Friend

What in the name of the spirit on high just happened? Stunned I stare. The storm covers the last sliver of moon and I am left, sightless. Crouching down to make less of a target, I wait. Soon the trill returns. I feel around for my pack, longing for something that makes some sense. With a sickening squish, my hand sinks in lukewarm goo. Reviled, I recoil, shaking what I can only imagine disgusting filth off as best I can. Tears well, could things possibly get any worse? And then, like a cue in some B rated play, it does.

Over the pounding din of the ongoing deluge, a twig snaps. It’s an innocuous sound in any other instance but here, now, a portent of impending doom. Frozen, willing myself to be just another generic stone to be ignored, I don’t even breathe. I strain to hear something, anything over the continuous drone of the rain. sniff A somewhat wet sound of something testing the air. sniff, sniff From somewhere closer. Then, a low guttural growl, starting in the back of the throat then echoing into the lungs to make it all that more menacing.

How long have I been holding my breath? Minutes, hours, days it seems, but I dare not move a muscle. sniff, sniff Closer ever closer. I can now hear it breathing, deep, rhythmic, melodic, and deadly. A mere hand’s breadth away, I can feel its hot breath on the side of my face. I am a rock, I am an island. My life flashes before my eyes; it’s a very short scene. The time has come, am I Me or am I mouse? Kill or be killed, stand up and be counted, get busy living or get busy dying. And then, prrrrr.

Wait, What? prrrrr Yes, an unmistakable sound. Again. prrrrr Caught so completely off guard, I feel a nose nuzzle my neck. No pain, no blood. prrrrr I let out my breath. prrrrr Hesitantly I raise my hand. prrrrr I bring it down on the back of the neck of the mysterious stranger and pet the oily wet fur. PRRRRR

I reach up my other hand and cradle the massive head, scratching behind where I would expect its ears to be. The creature flops over, head squarely in my lap and purrs. If this had been a house cat, I would have cuddled it up in my arms lovingly; however, this was a bulk of flesh, muscle and bone nearly equal to my size. Sometimes, rarely I would expect, but sometimes, it’s best to just let the monster, do as it will.

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Chapter 7 – Dawn

In the finite realm in which I exist, if it’s not trying to kill me, it is my friend. Hours have passed since the monster has come into my life. Happily, one of the bumps in the night has taken a shine to me. Who am I to question?

My verdant prison takes on a new light. A faint glimmer enters the darkness. My surroundings become scarcely apparent. The only difference since the last time I could see and now, is the twenty four hand, tip to tail feline, head snuggled in my lap; and the ominous fog, which has settled over the jungle landscape taking place of the soaking rain.

So what am I to call this black as night jungle cat? Juvenile Jaguar seems silly by contrast. Something more fitting, more appropriate, more ominous. Midnight seems much more apropos. Yes, Midnight it is. prrrrr

I look around, scanning the mist. Though dawn brings more light into my personal equation, the fog makes clarity barely more apparent. My colour palette reduced to a mere handful, all tinted in shades of grey. The trill which I have become oh so accustomed has gone, again without notice.

Midnight sleeps, when she wakes I will lead her away from the mess which may very well be a sibling. The rain has rinsed my body over the night but the blood on my soul may never be fully cleansed. Looking at the mound which sought to do me harm, I wonder if this is the first time I have taken a life. Somehow, I fear it is not and that gives me no comfort. I remember the attack, my dodge and then counter, attack, attack, attack, swift and certain. Now that is new. So I had fought back and apparently, quite effectively. Such destruction, without even a weapon is somewhat, unsettling.

Though my surroundings remain lush and overgrown, I now notice animal paths leading through the impenetrable walls of flora. Midnight stirs and opens her eyes. I immediately pull on my pack and proceed to lead her away from last night’s carnage. Though keeping to the animal path does offer some increased movement, these paths were made for those who run on four legs, not two. Midnight moves to point, seemingly unhindered and periodically pauses, no doubt wondering what is causing my delay in progress. Oh how much I wish I had some sort of hacking implement to aid my progress, but alas with neither merchant nor coin, it’s just a pipe dream.

Our path soon leads to a rocky outcrop roughly 3 stories high. A sizable tree has fallen against the escarpment, creating something of a ramp half way up its face. With a few jumps I am able to make it to the crest. Midnight has little trouble following my path and we now stand alone at its summit. Though still well under the canopy ceiling this site at least grants a defensible position should we need one. Sitting on a weathered fallen log, I pull out my scarce rations for a bite. As if on cue, Midnight turns and bounds back down to the forest floor vanishing into the flora.

As best I can tell, it should be somewhere around mid-morning. Checking my foodstuffs, I might have two days till huger sets in. Water on the other hand, a bit less. I glance at the book of, so far, useless information; maybe further pursuing might yield something, anything of value. I open and continue where I left off.

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x21.0005 -.0018

^sTART !initialize x.21.0005

Crisis comes knocking at a gate long since shut
Nature’s quiescent quintessence is roused
Tyrian fate hangs in balance
A catastrophe of epic fate
Woken by the sprout of sage corrupted
Crushed by the unlikely few
Of future fortune uncertain
From lofty haunt lies the crux

Long welcome the sequestered
From ashes, like phoenix, doth spring
Allied to the Freemen
The minions have forgotten
They arrive like the wind of the storm
The wielders of death by their hands
A rally call to the faithful
And quietly usher in downed fury

^eND !finalize x.21.0018

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Chapter 8 – Survival

And that is about helpful as the first read. I’m just not sure what to make of this. Maybe something in my missing memory would shed a light of realization, where currently lay only darkness. Packing away the tome, looking warily at my depleting consumables, I remove the knife. It is a sheathed variety with a blade about a half a hand long, sharp enough for generic utility use I would guess. I thread my belt thru the sheath loop.

Out of the corner of my eye, a black form ascends the egress log of my sanctuary. Midnight slinks up, drops a large fish at my feet and backs away. Her muzzle shows signs of a recent festive feed. Well what do ya know? What was last night a fearful monster, is now an unexpected savior. Knife in hand, I clean the offering with surprising skill and like my benefactor, I feast.

Sated, I give Midnight a thorough scratching behind the ears in a heartfelt effort to display my affection. The sun has burned off most of the fog but with the rising temperature and the lack of breeze the air weights thick as a stifling sodden blanket.

I rise and sling my pack. We need to find where Midnight did her fishing; some additional supplies would be a nice thing indeed. We hop our way back down to the forest floor. Now the question is how I convey my desire to return to her hunting grounds. Conversation and body language seems woefully inadequate. Maybe with it fresh in her mind, she may just gravitate there. Then again, there is always telepathy, and with that thought she strides into the brush.

Fighting my way thru this small animal run, I catch myself cursing at being so horizontally challenged. Even a bulky Charr would be able to traverse these paths with much more apparent ease, than a two legger like me; a Norn on the other hand, well I can’t even imagine. We proceed this way for nearly an hour before I hear the faint sound of rushing water. With newfound strength, I push on.

The path spills out to a much anticipated stream. Though it is somewhat small in breadth it pools up at numerous spots into a few sizable tarns worthy of the present that Midnight delivered. I stumble over to the stream and drink my fill. Midnight does the same.

With my thirst overly quenched and a bit of much needed primp and preen, I reevaluate my surroundings. The stream flows through an eroded rocky bed which extends about 20 feet on each side. On my side is a shallow hill which slopes down out of the Jungle to the streams edge. On the other is a gradual rise up to a 5 story cliff face which the bubbling path seems to follow. Since my food and water situation is temporarily satisfied there is now the concern with safety and shelter.

I pocket a few palm sized rocks at the shoreline which will surely cause a bit of a hurting, if I would need to. I spot a relatively straight sapling along the wooded edge and up root it. Bringing it down to an appropriate rock crevice I snap off the bottom cleanly and with my knife, sharpen it into a somewhat effective spear. At least I can do some fishing if needed and as for protection on land, a pointy stick is still, well, a pointy stick. Now, as for the shelter side of the equation, that may be a somewhat trickier endeavor.

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Chapter 9 – Exploration

I wander a mile upstream till I hit a less hospitable watercourse. Though I might be able to scramble up the rocks some of the way, the path looks to be much less traversable further on. I’ve about had it with trying to traverse the jungle paths hunched over, so downstream it is, and judging by the sun’s position in a somewhat westerly direction. From some obscure place I recall that when lost and one comes across flowing water, it is best to follow it downstream as it presents a greater likelihood of finding civilization. A bit of social assistance would be a beautiful thing right now.

We strike off west along the stream’s bank. An hour turns to two, which draws on into more. A few feeder streams have joined our flowing guide, turning it from stream to a more proper river. The sun has broken its zenith and wears on into late afternoon. With an occasional stop at some backwater pools, I flap about like a bird in a puddle in a moderately futile effort to shed the sweltering heat. Midnight lays in the shallow’s edge in her effort to do the same. Pressing on another hour or so, just as the sun is about to set, I notice a cave on the other side of the stream.

Fording our way across, we survey the cliff mouth. It seems that the river, in some distant past, made its course into this dark gullet. However, what at first glance looked to be a cave is actually an open-top gorge digging its way into the belly of the cliff. The path goes in about twenty feet and drops off into what would have been a small waterfall. In the faltering daylight, I decide to keep towards the front of the entrance.

Setting up camp, what little I can set up, we settle in for the night. As the moon starts to rise, I see Midnight slink off down towards the water’s edge and shift into stalk mode. A few wet pounces later, dinner is served. Just as the moon crests the top of our cave-like ravine, it highlights what looks to be an improvised natural cooking nook. Crawling over, I find the remnants of an age-forgotten fire and just to its side, a recessed cache secreted by an inlayed coverstone. Lifting the stone yields a well-worn tinderbox. Could it be? I open the lid. Jackpot.

After gathering some dried wood that has fallen from its failed precarious balance on the cliff ledge above, within a few minutes, let there be light. I keep the fire small, shedding a fair amount of light but holding the heat at barest minimum. Though the ambient heat has receded a bit with the sunset, the humidity is still making sticky a way of life. With the necessities of food, water, and shelter somewhat covered, light is a luxury, and one of which I will avail. I remove the book and set the pack against the wall, making a nice cushion just to the side of the fire and resuming my read.

(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)

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x21.0019 – .0039

^sTART !initialize x.21.0019

Deep and dark, from jungle heart, the lifeblood stream doth know,
ethereal path, is soon to shift, to ancient ebb from flow.

With folly’s bore, the channel deep, vexing element force,
dimension’s gate, the fallen arch, alters nature’s course.

Fortune comes, yet soon may flee, seize the moment’s last,
tempus winds, doth blow the wilds, days of future’s past.

Ignorant soul, holds hope for all, predicament ensues,
on razor’s edge, fate’s tangled web, may tip from win to lose.

^eND !finalize x.21.0039

(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)

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Posted by: BooHud.2681

BooHud.2681

x21.0019 – .0039

^sTART !initialize x.21.0019

Deep and dark, from jungle heart, the lifeblood stream doth know,
ethereal path, is soon to shift, to ancient ebb from flow.

With folly’s bore, the channel deep, vexing element force,
dimension’s gate, the fallen arch, alters natures course.

Karios comes, yet soon may flee, seize the moment’s last,
tempus winds, doth blow the wilds, days of future’s past.

Ignorant soul, holds hope for all, predicament ensues,
on razors edge, fate’s tangled web, may tip from win to lose.

^eND !finalize x.21.0039


^ I love the “No, your face is funny… it’s like a little raisin” line. I say it to my one friend all the time. Glad we are not the only peeps who get a kick out of it

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Posted by: Sligh.2789

Sligh.2789

A lot of this is, ….familiar in a twisted sort of way. Enjoyable still.
+1

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Chapter 10 – Sleep

After only a few minutes, I end my reading. Something about this book is unsettling. Whether it be the disjointed plethora of jumbled phrases of prophetic gibberish or the fact that it seems as though these pages should be familiar I don’t know. I tuck it back into my pack along with my anonymous gifter’s tinderbox and put down for sleep. In the fading firelight I look to my furry companion’s prone figure. “Good night Midnight.” She does not reply.

(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)

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Chapter 11 – Soliloquy

“Just look at you, all you heroes and here at the center, little old me. Were you even curious about why I did it, all this chaos and destruction? It doesn’t matter now. You’re done. You’ve failed. You were wrong! Tyria will bow before a new master. The alliances and I will stand together against any enemy. So what now? The big, strong heroes thought they were going to take ‘Me’ to jail or something like that. Ha- and there you lay, battered and broken, spewing your remaining foul lifeblood on my nice shiny deck. Get up, you worthless cretins, and clean up your bloody mess. I’m talking to you, you ungrateful mass of mangled flesh.” /heavy sigh “Blood is just so hard to get out of everything; you scrub and you scrub and you scrub.”

Bram, Rox, Jory, Kas and their uninspired Leader, all lay on the deck staring up at Scarlet with glazed-over, cold, dead eyes.

An earsplitting screech, followed by bone shattering quake rattles Breachmaker to its core. The entire ship channels iridescent prismatic energy to its living sylvari heart. Sparks leap from her body like a myriad of rats from an enflamed sinking ship. Corkscrew swirls of laser light burst forth from flesh in all directions, while sounds never before imagined pierce the very soul of any Archers left living. Clouds of hanging miasma crystalize as the spring of Tyrian lifeblood channels into its new vessel.

Maniacal laughter ensues!

(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)

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Posted by: Ludovicus.7980

Ludovicus.7980

Awesome! I’m just at chapter 7 and I already envy your wide vocabulary. You had me in the dictionary learning English. And I really appreciate that.

EDIT: Ok I just finished reading it all. I already want you to release the rest

The glory of my ancestors shall be restored.

(edited by Ludovicus.7980)

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Chapter 12 – Confusion

I startle awake drenched in cold sweat in spite of the warm night air. Shaken, I sit up on my elbows, admittedly a terrible defensive position to deal with the low guttural growl which I was greeted with. A mere inches away, aglow in ember light, Midnight stands coiled, ears flattened back and teeth bared, ready to strike. Wide-eyed, gripped by fear and cornered against the cave wall, time grinds to a halt. Her yellow eyes locked, my breathing stopped, a scene etched forever on a single moment in time.

With a tightened squawk I mutter, “Eeeeasy, girl.” Her head tilts ever so slightly to the side. “It’s ok girl, it’s just me.” Instilling as much empathy as I could muster into my voice, “Relax girl, it’ll be alright.” And like a bowstring slowly eased, she relents. Nearly soiled, I slowly regain my composure. With leery bearing she sniffs the air, satisfied she drops her demeanor from dominant predator to wary friend. What in the name of the winged spirits just happened? Midnight slowly returns to her spot and reclines, eyes set squarely in my direction.

With sleep scared out of me, I add tinder to embers and restoke the fire. Shaking my head in confusion, I sigh. It seemed so real, so mind numbly real. The off kilter colours, the smell of smoke and ozone, even the prickly static charge on my skin, made it feel like I was there. With the acrid scent of smoldering Lion’s Arch accented by a pinkish haze of miasmic terror, I convulse with the constant grinding sound of bit on bedrock. Then there was that laughter, that crazed cackle of sanity lost, I cover my ears but to no avail.

Where are these visions coming from? What purpose lies sulking in the shadows? Why would they come to me? Heck, I have never even been to Lion’s Arch. Sure, like most I have seen the great gate in passing but I have yet to venture beyond. Still, when I close my eyes I see the charcoal shells of buildings, the mangled bridge spans, the brave souls slaughtered, all as if I were standing right there.

Exhausted, I stare at the campfire’s flames, dancing as they did across the gutted structures of that doomed city. Hypnotically enthralling, my blank gaze spellbound to the blazing coal core. My eyes begin to water; it’s like staring at the very heart of the Megadestroyer. Slowly my eyes droop. Just for a moment, maybe two, then into the consuming darkness I delve.

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Chapter 13 – Deep

I wake in the final fleeting moments of predawn, rested. It seems the nightmare plague did not resume its phantasmal attack, allowing for a few fleeting hours of thankfully, uninterrupted sleep. Midnight is gone, doing what great cats do, whatever that might be. Putting my hand down in my attempt to rise, I encounter something slick, wet and cold. I start and recoil with brief recall of a similar situation two nights prior. Happily in the early light, this time I find a fishy breakfast treat at my side. I guess whatever had gone on last night, is at least on her part, graciously forgotten.

If I had not liked raw fish before, necessity has turned it into a much desired delicacy. After finishing my breakfast, I strip my protective garb and wander down to the river for a bit of refresh. I notice Midnight a ways upriver stalking some prey below the surface. She pauses and looks up for a second acknowledging my presence, then continues with her stealthy hunt. Donning my leathers I proceed back to the cave

With the morning light, I am able to move deeper into my shelter without fear of falling over the ancient waterfall crest. Twenty or so feet down, the dry old river path continues. The course has been worn smooth from years of polishing water. The bed continues to cut in a generally westward direction, somewhat mimicking the flowing watercourse outside. My eyes follow the ravine for a few hundred feet before it meanders around a turn and passes out of sight and that’s when I notice the sparkle.

A glint of light ever so slight, catches my eye, flickers twice and then is gone. A beam of sunlight has found its way down to the general area where the flicker came from so it may just be the reflection off some shiny rock or the like, then again, maybe not. I move my head a bit too each side but the twinkle does not return. How odd. Moving all along the edge of the drop, I am unable to re-summon the timid glow. Looking along the wall, I see there are three discernable ledges which would afford me a path down and somewhat easy climb back up should I decide to do so.

Maybe I take just a quick jaunt to check out the light and I come right back. Looking over my shoulder, Midnight is nowhere to be seen. I hop to the first, second, and last till I am standing on the dry-bed below. Leaves scatter the path, likely blown in from the gorge cliff above. I notice that the roof of my path has closed into a tunnel as the water cut itself further along its course. As I approach the dim-lit area where I first saw the light, I observe three items of note. One, the path terminates at another waterfall, which drops out of my vision into darkness below. Two, there is a huge pile of rock off to one side which looks to be a cave-in from above. And three, a mere hands-breadth away from the drops edge, the bony foot and the bottom part of a scabbard half buried under the pile of rubble.

The shiny brass scabbard chape is the most likely culprit for the glint I saw reflected above. I look up toward the camp and see a black silhouetted feline form starring down from the edge of the drop, framed by the lit entrance. Looking back to the scabbard I reverently start to remove the rocks. The bones are crushed in multiple places, likely this poor soul’s death was quick. Approximately my height, certainly too small for a Norn and though I can’t imagine what the skeletal structure of a Slyvari would look like, I am guessing this wouldn’t be it. I therefore, default it to Human. The scabbard and its holding looks to be all that is left of his personal belongings. Please don’t think ill of me my friend but I have much more urgent need of your blade than you ever will again.

Unbuckling the harness greets me with a peculiar sound, somewhat unnerving for my current environment. It is that heart stopping shock of ice starting to crack on the frozen lake to which you are standing. Prize in hand I leap away from the abyss’s edge but the shift in weight achieved the dreaded opposite effect. The surface beneath my feet crumbles away and over the edge I plunge into the deep.

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Chapter 14 – Fall

They say time flies, and I guess sometimes it does, but sometimes- like right now- it crawls and I fly. Lucky for me too, because there are a lot of things that I sure would like to think about in the final moments of my life. However, contrary to what I expected, contemplating the utmost paradoxes of the universe are the furthest things from my mind.

It is morbidly funny what you come up with as you plunge through the night toward your gruesome demise. The first thing that comes to my mind: I hope Midnight will not be mad at me for leaving her. Do animals even get mad, I wonder? If they do, hopefully, they have the capacity for forgiveness too. Sorry, girl, but this looks like the end of a beautiful friendship.

The second thing I ponder: Is this what flying feels like? I must admit, it is quite awe-inspiring. Flying would be wonderful, without the horror of impending doom, of course. I wonder if my soul will soar to the sky above forever. One could only hope.

My final consideration: If a person falls down a shaft in a deserted cave and no one is around to hear them, do they make a sound? Just then a blood-curdling scream rips from my throat, question answered.

Such personal philosophic ponderings all go through my mind in a matter of about two seconds before I hit the ground. Mud spews up all around me, somewhat softening the fall, at least enough so that this is not my story’s end. I mean, granted, it hurt and knocked the wind out of me as I faceplant, but alive is alive. The worst part of this whole situation is still pending, though. It seems that on my way down, I had let go of the greatsword in flight. The odds in all likelihood would place the sword a bit to my right flank and safely in the mud. That would be just fine with me. However, it seems that Lady Luck and I have a strained relationship right now, and the next thing I hear is the truly unmistakable sound of a scabbarded greatsword to skull. It kind of reminds me of a sound like a tower bell toll. Forward I fall like a sack of potatoes.

(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)

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Chapter 15 – Paradox

The jotun have recorded and ushered out as is the way of things. Glaust has departed, leaving quite the discernable void in the annals. Though the Flameseeker Prophecies gave solace to the eventual outcome, our battle was waged and ultimately lost. I stand vigil as guide to the last hope.

Years, untold centuries, I have endured this moment, forever saturated by eidolon essence. I move along the path of singular remaining purpose, to the only final destination and floating toward the eternal confrontation as was etched on the arch’s cornerstone. How long I have waited? How long shall I wait? Coming closer, ever closer to the stitch in time. For years I have toiled. For years I have tutored and now, finally now, I come to fulfill life’s calling. Solace or discord awaits an answer. It is come.

Shrouded by the Mists, I profess:

Hear me youngling, and through your action, usher in fate’s perdition or exoneration.
Forward lies the future.
Forward lies the past.
Present is the fulcrum.
Beyond, each decision builds the arch or destroys it. Existence hangs in the balance of hero’s choice.
Backward lies the present.
Backward lies the future.
Past is the constant.
Withdraw, put in motion the path never traveled, corruption’s steed tarnished by honored sacrifice.
Decide your past.
Decide your present.
Future is what you make it.
Choose, the web of fate either strengthens or unravels, all reality dances on the head of a pin.
So it was written.
So it will be done.
Destiny shall record.
What say you?…*WHAT SAY YOU?*

(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)

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Chapter 16 – Dark

Cold, wet and smelling of fish; those were the first impressions as I came to. Oh and ringing, let’s not forget the ringing. Kind of like a tinkerer’s tiny silver bell being emphatically and continuously rung by a fledgling child ad nauseam, their little faces brimming with abundant joy. But there are no children, there are no bells just that incessant ringing.

Horizontal, I become aware of my head tilted to the right and using my left wrist as a pillow. I open my eyes to absolute darkness. Midnight, anyway I would hope it is Midnight seems to be licking the back of my hand, hot, fishy breath bringing a bit of clarity to my clouded brain.
Hesitantly, I inquire, “Midnight, is that you?”
“Prrrrr.”

I am mentally relieved, luckily, just prior to being forced to be physically so. A thought comes to mind. I wonder if all animals understand common tongue. I mean, it didn’t occur to me to address Midnight in anything but. Oh well, no sense switching things up now and confuse the poor girl.

Sitting up and looking around yields utter black. I move my right hand to the back of my head. I am greeted with a rather large, egg-sized lump and the feeling of dried something, most likely blood. A knock to the noggin, I would imagine, is never a good thing. Well, that stands as a fair explanation for the constant ringing too, I would guess.

So to recap: I am a head-conked Me, sitting on a cold stone floor, in a completely dark tunnel, with not the barest inkling where I am or where to go. I think I have now found a brand-spanking new meaning for screwed. On a positive note, at least I have Midnight. Speaking of which, how the heck did she even get down here? I reach out and pet her left shoulder and continue a cursory overview of her well-being. It seems she is no worse for wear; at least that is something.

Now as for sound, viable options, it seems I have few. I could crawl around for the rest of my days, looking for some way out of my mess, or cry myself to sleep. With the utmost desire to pursue the latter, something inside resolved me to the former. As enthusiastic a tone as I could muster, “Come on Midnight, let’s go exploring!” And so I begin my crawl across the cold stone floor. A thought leaps to mind, and I immediately stop. Why is this floor not muddy? The last thing I remember before my unplanned sleep was landing in mud. Keeping one toe planted, I rotate, searching for wet soil over stone, yet nothing. Curious… had I moved while I was out? Surely not of my own volition. Then, a thought: Midnight must have dragged me out of the mud in concern that my breathing might be in jeopardy. Smart kitty, that.
“Good girl Midnight.”
“Prrrrr.”

Resuming my crawl, I only make it a few feet before I hit what I could only hope to find- the cold scabbard of my acquired greatsword. I cautiously run my hand over the locket and pause at the throat. In the moment of truth, I reach forward and am graced with cross-guard, grip, and pommel. I let out a sigh. Standing, I strap the harness across my back. It is amazing how something as simple as strapping a weapon on can raise your spirits, but raise them it did.

The weight is comfortable and harness unbinding, but an untested sword is nearly as worthless as none at all. Grabbing the scabbard body at my hip with my left hand and the grip directly over my shoulder with my right, I prepare to bear steel. A thought comes to me: It has been quite some time since anyone has drawn this blade. It may have seized the rainguard and throat over time, so I prepare to give it a good yank. Muscles flexed, I pull.

Many things have surprised me over the last few days and, admittedly, as the blade slid from scabbard smoothly and freely, I am somewhat taken aback. Yet that is drastically and by far paled in comparison to what I am greeted with next. As the blade rings free, brilliant cobalt blue flames leap forth from the blade length, banishing the impending gloom. For the first time in days I chuckle.
“A dweomered blade; how quaint.”

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Chapter 17 – Light

The contrast in going from pitch to not, made the brilliance seem that much more overwhelming. In truth, the cobalt blue flames are an eerie eldritch cold yet comforting sight. Midnight seems a bit taken aback at our new found illumination as am I; though in an effort not to look a gift dolyak in the mouth, I count my blessings.

I survey my immediate surroundings; Midnight looking no worse for wear does the same. We stand in the dry cistern of the falls plunge pool. Judging by the dried blood on the eroded stone, it seems that this was in fact, my impact point. Climbing up the bowl to the riverbed, I search for options. Back the way we came is not a real choice. The water during its long past journey, had worn the stone behind the falls to a near mirror like consistency, precluding any option for a vaguely successful climb back up to the fall-crest. The rest of the side walls of the tunnel were equally as unnavigable. As I look up the north wall, there does seem to be a way using some well-placed jumps, to work your way down but not back up. I turn toward the downward course of the streambed and with new found determination, hi ho.

The stream tunnel cut a passage back and forth with one thing in common, no matter what direction it chose, ever downward. First gradually with run significantly over rise, yet soon the slope became more difficult at an ever increasing degree. I guess at this point, I am at about a mile along my path and a couple hundred feet under the surface. The going at times, is getting a little trickier, as it seems the stream became quite angry here, ripping out pieces of ceiling, wall and floor during some sort of temper tantrum, leaving pock marks everywhere. The path turns right and without warning, opens into huge domed chamber dominated almost in the entirety of my vision, by an underground lake.

In the past, the river would have ended its tumultuous journey by spilling over this final falls into the lake. Unlike the previous two fall locations this is more of a cascade variety which allows Midnight and I to traverse down to the lake without much undue hardship. From the water’s edge I am not able to make out any exit from this cave; though my greatsword’s illumination pales in comparison to the vastness of this aquatic cache, allowing me to see only a small portion.

I skirt the shore both right and left but each offer no dry path. Returning to where Midnight waits, I look out to the sea of dark water. Looks like it is either go back or get wet. As I have already been back and the options on that route offered little promise, “Looks like we are getting wet again Midnight”, thankfully she kept her disapproving comments to herself.

I strip off my leathers and arrange them in a nice little pile by the cascade. Well, in for a copper in for a gold. Standing by the lake-edge and holding my cobalt blade aloft, I stride forward. The water is rather chilled as one would expect an underground lake to be but still oddly energizing. Once the water level had risen slightly above my thighs, a sharp intake of breath and I pause to allow the shock to the nethers to subside. Then striding forward, I commit.

As I swim out into this vast dark lake, it comes to mind that this would be the very worst time to think about slimy, sightless underwater monsters, poised just at the edge of my sword’s aura, huge scaly things with claws and tentacles covered with suckers and oozing acidic poison. Gaping maws lined with finger long pointy teeth, just waiting to gobble up some unwitting surface dweller. Yep, good thing I didn’t think about that… I start swimming faster. Glancing over my shoulder I see Midnight prodding along closely behind, some comfort there. Just as I am almost sure I felt something slither past my leg, an oddly unexpected sight comes into view.

<continued below>

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<continued from above>

The stern of a small wooden rowboat, tethered to a rock hewn dock. Really, down here in the bowels of Tyria, a boat. Scrambling to escape the daemons of the deep, I nearly leap out of the water onto the dinghy. Then wondering if the underdeep monsters could swallow entire rowboats, I clamber my way to the safety of stone. In my chaotic rush out of the water however, I somehow snap the leader line and the boat slowly drifts out of reach. Midnight had a different notion and swims down the dock’s length to the shore. Like the other side of the lake there is not much shore to speak of but enough to allow her escape from the lake of horrible, yet unforeseen nasties. /sigh Yep, good thing I didn’t think about gruesome underwater denizens. Sorry boat, you’re on your own.

At the end of the dock was a lithic staircase leading up about ten feet and terminating in a landing, beyond the landing lay a huge door. Sure, I mean why not? If an underground lake could have a boat, dock and stairs, then why not a fifteen foot solid door. Just to make it even more unbelievable, carved into the door’s stone frame is some kind of writing. Not in common or any markings that I might understand, no that would be way too convenient for this situation; but in some ancient unknown language of which I have never even seen, let alone possibly comprehend. It is probably the instructions on how to open the door; something silly like ‘speak friend and enter’ or some such nonsense. Now as one might expect, the center of the door is adorned with a large metal pull ring the size of my head. What I most assuredly did not expect, was that the door looked to be fashioned entirely of pure solid ectoplasm.

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Chapter 18 – Threshold

That’s it! I reach down and give my leg a viscous pinch. The piercing pain turned out to be quite consciously uncomfortable but did not wake me from any dream, so no luck there. Well, it was worth a shot.

Without time for consideration I reach forward, grab the metal ring with both hands and pull. Strain as I might it does not avail to yield. Bracing my foot on the wall for leverage, I try again with similar result. Ok, so either locked or quite thoroughly stuck. For the next hour or so I try any kind of physical applications I could think of sans hacking at it with Cobalt. I was not about to damage my sole option for light and protection in an expectedly futile attempt, amounting to no more than a vent for pent up frustration. “Friend”, I shamefully proclaim, pulling at the ring. Midnight looks at me with concern; the door ignores me completely.

Midnight gives up watching my exercises in futility within the first few minutes and is now wandering on the dock peering into the lake depths. Maybe I just need a different perspective on the situation? Setting Cobalt down so I can get a better look from the stairs and dock, I am plunged into darkness. Panic instantly wells, as I scramble to retrieve my blade. Thankfully, as I grab the pommel, it blazes back to life. Ok, note to self, let’s not do that again. It is amazing how much one takes ‘any’ light for granted, as a sight dependent dweller from far above.

I look around. A vain attempt to find something I may have missed. A hidden catch maybe or a phantom key overlooked on the landing, most assuredly fashioned to fit a previously overlooked ectoplasmic lock. If wishes were fishes, though I doubt very much I would be casting my net from the nearby dock. After what seemed like hours of searching, I came up with literally nothing of value to remedy my situation. Despondent, I lean my back against the door and slide down to sit on the cold stone landing.

Midnight looks up from the dock as if to say, I’m sorry. “Midnight return”, I call, yielding to a selfish desire for some companionship. She bounds up the stairs like she was riding the wind. She nuzzles up to me and lies by my side, dropping her head in my lap. I pet her neck and shoulder feeling her cord-like muscles twitch ever so slightly on each pass. Soon her breath deepens and her muscles relax, eyes flicker and droop as she starts her nighttime journey. Not soon after, I follow in her footsteps.

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Chapter 19 – Destiny

I am startled awake and leap to my feet, Cobalt firmly in my hand. I stare at the crystal door and all seems mostly as I remember, except for four things. The metal pull ring and frame etchings are gone, Midnight is missing, and the amount of ambient light is a hundred-fold what Cobalt is producing, all of which comes from somewhere behind me.

Slowly I turn; the sight that I am greeted with is nothing less then astounding. The landing, steps, dock and lake are all gone and in their stead, a long downward sloping ramp, leads to a bridge spanning over a river of light. It was as if someone mixed the Sun with the Aurora, then poured them in liquid form into the river bed below. Tendrils of iridescent colours from across the spectrum, spring up from the flowing luminescence, only to be sucked back in on themselves, like a silent photonic whip. The visual attack stands barely on this side of utter insanity. What I was seeing was pure, as if the unadulterated definition of pure was the scene in which I bear witness. My mouth hangs slack and my arms limp at my side, Cobalt dragging in the wake. I don’t know how long I stood there; seconds, hours, by my ancestors it could have been eons.

When I come out of my catatonic state, I find that I had wandered down to the end of the ramp and stand at the base of the bridge over the plasmatic river. Looking to the right the liquid light flowed in a straight line directly to the end of eternity or so it seemed. To the left its path entered or was it exited a cavernous stalactite/stalagmite lined horizontal gash in the living rock. Dumbfounded, I gaze at the bridge in front of me and notice for the first time, at the top of the span stood a figure.

What little sanity I still possessed was pressed to breaking at that moment in time. In a perfect contrast to the river of light, this form was black as night. The only exception was the azure blue eyes which pierced from its oblong skull, directly into my soul. As I would expect, the unbridled fear which should follow at the sight of such, would send me screaming into the realm of madness but in contrast, I felt oddly at peace. Upon regaining some of my composure, I start to climb the path toward the black form. As I approach to top of the rise, the form came better into view.

It stood nearly twelve feet tall from hairless dome to limp hanging feet, thirteen if you measure to the spot where it hovered over the bridge. Its robes were of abyss, black and midnight ice. They hang majestically as if somehow attached to its very being. The azure eyes followed me as I approached the summit. I sheath my blade. It was blatantly obvious that neither its luminescence, nor its keen edge, would assist me in this unfathomable otherworldly situation. Directly in front of its levitating form stood a pedestal with three similar objects placed in a line at its center. I stop at the pedestal and gawk at the items; they were all exquisitely unique hourglasses.

The center one was of a more typical style, plainer than its two siblings yet ostentatious all the same. Made of orichalcum and fine crystal with a bearing of an expensive type one might look for at a Grandmaster Clockmaker’s shop but never find. Its snow-white sand steadily fell from the nearly empty upper chamber to the near full one below. The one to its left is of breathtaking beautifully carved ancient wood and a somewhat smoke-tarnished glass but the strangest feature was that its deep blood red sand was actually flowing from the bottom chamber to the top. Lastly, the one to the far right was the most peculiar. Its design was one of barely imagined dreams with sharp lines and impossible curves crafted from a metal of which I had never seen and not to be out done by its predecessor, its sand was sapphire blue and stagnant.

If I could be any more surprised by my current situation, the fact that Midnight has appeared at my side, as if by magic, might just have done it. I smile down at her and lay my hand on her head. I glance back at the three works of art and then to the figure towering over me. The piercing blue eyes still locked in stare. It proceeds to nod its head at me and without opening its mouth it says:

”Hear me youngling and through your action, usher in fates perdition or exoneration.”
And as it continues to drone on with its precognizant ramblings from my dream verbatim, one thing creeps its way into my mind.
Awww CRAP!

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Chapter 20 – Reckoning

”Hear me youngling and through your action, usher in fates perdition or exoneration. Forward lies the future. Forward lies the past. Present is the fulcrum. Beyond, each decision builds the arch or destroys it; existence hangs in the balance of hero’s choice.
Backward lies the present. Backward lies the future. Past is the constant. Withdraw, put in motion the path never traveled, corruption’s steed tarnished by honored sacrifice.
Decide your past. Decide your present. Future is what you make it. Choose, the web of fate either strengthens or unravels, all reality dances on the head of a pin.
So it was written. So it will be done. Destiny shall record. What say you?…*WHAT SAY YOU?!*”

Destiny calls on me to deliver and I, to the best of my ability, will answer. The myriad tidbits of wisdom, which lay pent-up unspoken over time; the plethora of witticisms, spanning the entirety of all gathered humorists; the innumerable notations of knowledge, harbored by the greatest scholars of history immemorial; all gathered at my very fingertips, just waiting for my articulate and verbose utterance. And with confident exuberance, I answer destiny’s calling. “Huh?”

Yes, so eloquent, short and to the point, the paramount of my collected incite, all rolled into one articulately delivered syllable. Now granted, after what has happened to me over the past few days, hopefully destiny will demurely look the other way, in reflecting on my initial pronouncement. In an effort to not blemish the reputation of all thinking peoples everywhere, I quickly follow up my original monosyllabic declaration with at least something semi intelligible.

“I know not what to do.” Ok, at least it is honest, that’s gotta count for something, right? Without any perceived animosity, my attendant replies:
”You are the lock, you are the key. With you and you alone lies the fate of the world.”
So yeah, umm, no pressure.
”I am the light, I am the guide. The onus of illumination is my bailiwick to dole as I am permitted. Seek and ye shall find but do not dally, for the time is nigh.”
No dally, got it. With false bravado, “How can you help me?”
”I am bound by the rules of conduct, by the very laws of nature. I will answer as I am permitted.”
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. “What am I to do?”
”Your course of action is yours and yours alone. I cannot influence your decision or through inaction allow your decision to be influenced.”
“Can you stop what Scarlet did?”
”I cannot?”
“Cannot or will not?”
”Yes.”
“Will my decision change the future?”
”Through your decisive action lay the possibility to change all time, past, present and future.”
“Can you see the future?”
”I can see all the branches, twists and loops of time, as it was since the inception.”
“Wow, how old are you?”
” Non sequitur, the time is n-”
“Nigh…Ok, sorry.” So stay on topic and be quick about it. “In a dream I saw Scarlet triumph over the assembled heroes, did that really happen?”
”In this current reality yes, it has happened but it has not always been so.”
“So I can change the outcome of that battle?”
”It does exist within the realm of your possibilities, yes.”
“Is that what I am supposed to do, change the outcome of that battle?”
” I cannot influence your decision or through inaction allow your decision to be influenced.”

I look down at Midnight with hope that she, at this very moment in time, will imbue me with some tidbit of feline enlightenment. She sits back on her haunches and is enthralled by scratching an itch. Now this would not be a notable event in the realm of catdom, except that the process was taking place in painfully slow-motion.

“Is that your doing?”
”You are forcing it so, through your inaction. Behold,…”
Raising a hand, it points up the river of light behind me. Turning I see that, traveling down the river ever so slowly towards us, an amplitude of a pure energy-spike. I turn back.
”…pending doom. Armageddon is slowed to allow for your final decision.”

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<continued from above>

I stare directly into those cold azure eyes, deep pools of sapphire stare back. I was not prepared for this, in fact I cannot even… and just then, the lightning bolt of inspiration strikes; the epic crack of the dawn of epiphany.

“I have been here before, haven’t I?”

Without warning, the towering form does something completely unexpected, it smiles. Time resumes its traditional pace.

I look over my shoulder at the incoming onslaught, barreling down the glowing river. The physical manifestation of Scarlet’s cataclysmic meddling bears on me as the harbinger of doom astride its liquid light steed, I shutter. The time has come, the perfect moment of truth. I turn back to my mentor; the gaping horizontal gash in the rock wall begins to expand. Then just as the pure energy pulse smites my very existence, I smile and grab the hourglass.

A roar can be heard across all of Tyria.

(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)

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THE END…

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Epilogue

Pitch dark pierced by the occasional silvery shards filtered down from the opaque canopy above. The deep rich air of loam with every breath was near overwhelming. A high pitched trill seemed to emanate from everywhere. These were my first experiences, ever, or so it would seem… or so, it would seem.


(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)