by JosephGeorge
Chapter III
. an excerpt from the book of draal: Chapter XLIIX .
It is the thirty-second year of the reign of the Lord Karx. He has fallen sick from the fever, and passed from this life. There was great mourning in the land over his death and many come from all corners of the kingdom to pay their respects to the king.
Lord Karx’s second son, Drathair, ascends to the throne to replace his father, the firstborn having been slain in battle many years before. Drathair ruled with wisdom in his father’s stead, but many thought this an opportunity to put forth their own designs.
One Lishta, a counselor to the king, rose up while he slept and put a dagger to the king’s heart, ending his life and his short rule of only a few months.
With no heir to the throne, the High Elders fight over who should be named king, and while they fight many have begun to form secret combinations, all seeking to crown themselves and bring the clans under their rule.
It has not been one year since the death of Lord Karx, and already war has broken out in the land, clan against clan, house against house. Many thousands fall at the sword’s edge each day.
. The Leaving .
- Sixth Age, year 1014
“Maritha! Don’t stand there like that. There’s chores to be done.”
Her words sounded harsh, far more than was usual. Maritha responded by sucking back the few drops at her eyes and returned to quickly scrubbing the window pane clean.
Lyrus knew that she didn’t mean to be hard, but he understood why it came out that way. They were all feeling that same emotion.
Ever since father and Aldreaus left.
It had only been two days, but already their home seemed such a dismal place. His mother had thrown out the flowers father had picked for her. Now it was just the bare wood of their walls and the cold stone floor that kept them company.
Of course, the two younger ones could not understand, and so their demeanor had not made much of a change.
He worked hard to keep them quiet, but what was he to do? They were like two little Vitrin pups, their games always turned into a fight, but fighting to them was still only a game anyways. There was simply an eternal round of energy that only ceased its movement when they grew too tired to keep their eyes open.
The mother turned to watch them as they played with a few wooden toys, prancing them about as if on some grand adventure far away.
Far away….
Emotions overcame her as the full weight of their situation crashed down upon her shoulders again.
It was not so much the fact that she was left alone, to care for four hungry bellies on her own. Nor was it that she would be away from her beloved husband and son for so long. Aldreaus’s first time to battle, still did not frighten her that much. It was simply….
War.
A consuming fire that would sweep the land and leave only ash and sorrow in its wake. They had won the fight once before, and so it seemed for the last time. But now? The darkness that came seemed to pervade even into the farthest reaches of the kingdom, seeking out all that was light and good and snuffing the flame of hope out in one great breath.
“Promise me.” Lyrus’s father had said in conversation with their mother. “Promise me that at the first sign of danger, you’ll take them away. Go to the sea, it will be safe there.”
“But I can’t leave the-“
“No, you must promise me.” He took a deep breath, holding her face in his hands and crying with his eyes, but no tears spilling over. “Tainya, you are strong. That’s why I chose you, remember? You can do this for me.”
And yes, she was strong, but I have a way of breaking things. She would be as the rest, for none could withstand that debilitating thing called grief and mourning.
She soon would know.
Despite all her promises, there was no intention to take the children away, to run from this danger. If need be, she would fight alongside the rest to defend her homeland.
And perhaps die with them too.
. On Being Saved and Saving Again the Soul .
- Seventh Age, year 718
The Edge.
It was this place he went often.
Some say that nothing exists out there, beyond that drop into a deep black that seems to go on forever, yet goes nowhere at all. It was a complete void of existence, so bereft of life and light that it was tangible to the senses. You could hold it in your hand and let it slip through the holes between your fingers.
Feel it glide past, like some ethereal presence.
Here, at the edge of all things, where time and space vanished into the frozen twilight, he stood, watching into the distance, as if…seeking for something.
How silly. There is nothing out there to find.
But still he came.
Thoughts and feelings poured out of him, littering the dark sky in bouts of technicolor streams, sparkling as they went and displaying before him like a mural to be read. And read he had, so many times before.
The past is often the only place to flee to, when the future seems so imminent and bleak, bearing down on you with full force.
Perhaps still not a safe place, but at least you know what to expect.
At least, so one would suppose. And here we find him, standing against that boundless cliff, staring down into the depths of his suffering. Visions of all the possibilities danced before him, mixing into the scheme of his colorful life, most of them leading to only one place. One specific particle of his consciousness stood out, speaking a viper’s words to him. Hushed tones urging him to listen.
Let go.
I cheered him on.
Let go?
Such an absurd thing to think of, but then, was it really? It had crossed him before, and entertaining it had turned this ghost of a dream into a frequent, and welcome quest.
I urged him forward.
What would it be like? Would I fall for an eternity, or is there a bottom, somewhere?
Ahh, there was so much going for him, pressing him to take that first step. My hand was outstretched, fingers reaching in the blindness for a hold of something.
Anything.
He was there already, in heart and mind, leaping with faith and finding satisfaction in that initial plunge. He was practically gone. And yet? It always kept him back, just that one little matter that always seemed to arise, whether I made attempt to stop it, or not.
She came, too.
On those pale, bare feet over the stale earth. That crown of flames dancing in the wind and splitting into the foreboding nature of my scheme.
She always came.
He turned to look, to see who this hero might be. What he saw, I assure you, is not what I viewed each time. An angel of light. A siren of the east. A paladin of Lydria.
Whatever he saw, it was enough.
