The Fracture: An Alchemist’s Greatest Tools — A Grimoire and Curiosity (Part 5 of 7)

I reach up into a spruce tree. A conifer branch‘s needles scratch at my hand. I carefully break off the end of a branch. The strong smell it secretes tinges the air. Using a blade of grass I tie the end and place the bundle on a flat rock. I look at the burning Sun then focus on the bundle. Thoughts of warmth and greed pollute my empty mind.

From the immaterial a form emerges. A burning sensation spreads through the individual cells in my arm. I wince from the pain. My cells start feeling as if the moisture starts boiling. I gasp for air. The feeling calms down a little and I begin focusing on the bundle again. The spruce needles move back and forth as if by the wind.

A spark sets the bundle ablaze. The smell of spruce fills the air even heavier now. I clear my throat and begin chanting a few words:

“The way is lost. We pay the cost of nature’s host for a toast. By the very circles and forlorn passages we come bearing the words of men. Must we be lost or can be found? The way remains lost. We ask the ghost of the forest to guide us. Hear us.”

A form materializes from the smoke. It beckons to me like a beautiful woman. My legs move without my consent and the smoke touches my cheek. I loosen my muscles up, the thick air shimmers around me, Daefyr watches from a few yards away, and daylight cascades through the treetops. The spirit dances for a few minutes.

“I hear thee. The lost. Seekers of the West caught between elven sorrow and human wrath. Will you cure the wound or infect it? The blood in you tastes sweet yet sour like berries. To prove yourself as not poison walk through these forlorn passages. Where brambles doth recede for soft feet to tread.” her mystic words choke the air and burn in my chest.

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The Fracture: An Alchemist’s Greatest Tools — A Grimoire and Curiosity (Part 4 of 7)

Fear. I listen to my heart pounding so hard it resonates in my ears. My thoughts scream “RUN!!!” and my body froze. Like a reoccurring nightmare I see the horror coming but haven’t the strength to escape. Something tugs at my pant leg. I look down at the dog and smile.

“You have me here.” the dog’s action appears to say.

I force my knees to pick up my legs. We walk backwards using the trees for cover. The giant snorts while rubbing its eyes. It turns in our direction forcing us to dive behind a large tree stump. I ready the book as the dog’s hackles rise. In our surprise loud rumbling sounds come from its direction.

“Guhyon turkah rulas. . .” the giant’s forlorn language echoes. Each word intertwines with the natural world as if they were a gale of wind or the ebb of a river. I step out from behind the tree with my hands open and out. The giant stares at me for a bit then breathes in deeply. We stand there in complete silence.

“Hello. Do you speak Gahlian?”

“Gahlian. English. Human. They are all the same. A different season, the same year. I guess you don’t understand Her language. It’s not written. It’s felt.”

“A breeze and a river. Isn’t there flooding from the rain in the valleys?”

“Ah, you can feel it. Yes. Something unknown threatens Her grounds by bringing rain through Elven tears. I sense their sorrow. These rains bring much more than flooding. It wounds Her, the All Mother.” The giant rubs its watery eyes. “I came here in search of anything. These lowlands speak with idle tongues. A sign of Her benevolence.”

I repeat its words in my head. The longing and anguish in its words pierce my heart with a blade oiled with poison. A breathlessness overtakes me. I hold myself up with a tree. We stand there in silence again. The giant sees physical pain showing on my face. I clear my throat.

“I can feel your pain. I carry my burdens too. We have been exiled from my home. All we can do is move forward. We’re heading west in search of tomorrow.”

“You’ll never cross the river.”

“I’ll figure it out.” I show him the grimoire.

“A maji and a black dog? My people have tales about such a pact. The effigy child and the beast of the night. Ostracized. Exiled. Not forgotten. I truly wish you luck on your journey. Curha moru daelum. May the storm pass.” almost as quickly as the giant appears it disappears.

The black dog rubs up against my leg. We look towards the mountain ahead. I reach down and pet him. His cold ethereal form from earlier feels like a distant memory. A warmness radiates from its chest. I smile. If we have a pact I guess you want something. I want purpose. You want a friend. Maybe? There must be more.

I kneel down by the dog and hold him. The warmness grows further. Time freezes around us. I open my heart up feeling his darkness seep in. He tries getting away but I tighten my grip. Droplets of darkness stain my heart as tears fall from the dry crevices of my eyes. I know he’s made from pain and hate. And still I can never break this bond we share.

“I think you need a name. Daefyr? You can be the fire of the day even with you being created by shadows. Nobody can deny anyone that.”

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Morning Light

The Fracture: An Alchemist’s Greatest Tools — A Grimoire and Curiosity (Part 2 of 7)

The thing is withholding the truth never works out. I rush through the open fields toward the village. Some commotion on the outskirts grabs my attention like a man at his wits end grasping at straws. As I walk closer their shouts become much clearer. A group of men with spears and bows surround something. Is it a person? Is it an animal? Why do they need so many people?

Suddenly a black dog tackles one of the men down. It bites the spear in half, gnashing at the poor man’s throat, black tendrils hold back the others, and my throat dries up. I force myself to swallow. I cautiously inch my way toward the attacking beast. It’s ears perk up and it begins snarling at me. The others look at me as if to yell at me to run as far as I can.

We share eye contact for a few seconds. Neither me or the beast show any sign of backing down or otherwise weakness. I move a step closer. It holds its ground. This dance of superiority continues for far too long. Sweat drips down my neck, the beast smells my fear, our muscles tighten by instinct, it lunges for me, and I grab for its stomach. We roll on the dirt and fight for our dear lives.

Adrenaline pumps throughout my body fueling me to keep going. The dog’s strength overshadows that of any other I have ever seen. I realize I’m fighting a losing battle. Kicking the beast back I gain a little distance and more importantly time. Tendrils keep the others in a daze leaving me completely alone in this fight.

By sheer luck claw marks made a hole in my pocket big enough for the book to fall out. I grab it and feel the familiar warmness grow ever hotter. My hands burn as I feel something flow through me, my blood. The body’s struggle to regulate temperature, to supply nourishment to the organs, and to allow life. I think of the summer time where, after a long day’s work, one seeks refuge beneath the shade of tall tree.

Flames erupt from my hands. The black dog jumps back and whimpers like a small puppy. Memories of other dogs in the village return to me. I stumble and look the dog in the eyes. I lose my concentration ending the incantation. We stare at each other once again. This time we share mutual respect of each other.4153dc6217356f3b4068cfbdfffd2446--demon-wolf-black-wolves

The Fracture: An Alchemist’s Greatest Tools — A Grimoire and Curiosity (Part 1 of 7)

“Have you ever just stared out into the distance? Out there is something unknown but it’s known by the wind. The howls, the cold, the birds, the whispers, the storms, the seeds, the wanderlust. If the unknown calls then surely we should heed it.” These are the words said by a stranger on his way through my village.

These words they resonate in my mind. A man traveling by himself through dangerous lands yet he remains cheerful. I wonder if I could do the same. The stagnant state of this village leaves a pungent taste in my mouth. No news from the outside reaches here and the villagers find solace in the isolation. Do I? Lately the man’s words romance my thirst for something new.

I walk to the edge of town where I met the man. The place is unusual for most travelers. A ravine the village elder calls the entrance to the Burrow of Despair. Tales speak of men losing their minds in the ravine and finding a door hidden beneath thorns. Neither does the door exist or the thorns but the hallucination is much more vivid than reality. One man rescued from the ravine was unable to function at all.

The older villagers say he never escaped the ravine. I never met him nor do I wish to find truth in such a tragedy. Out of mercy or perhaps selfishness they put him to rest. We warned the traveler about these states of altered reality but he pressed on. I wonder how. His footsteps, the only pair on the soil, show a leisurely stroll.

“What was it? If I could ask about his confidence in traveling. Or return the book he dropped right here.” I ramble on.

I traced the cover with my hand. A skillful engraving meets my fingertips and I feel warmth radiating from it. Should I read the book? He may never return. Or I could show it to the elder because all those old people in the Council have strict rules on outside knowledge. No I can’t let them get rid of the book. I place the book back in my pocket and head back to my house.Typography-Change-The-World-Mahatma-Gandhi-Quotes-1920x1080

I ~ The Vestige of the Fade

I awake to the echo of clockwork. After rubbing my eyes I look around. Above me hangs a giant clock. It floats in a place where nothing else other than darkness exists. The time reaches midnight.

The darkness splits in half with light. White light like a spear pierces through this lonely chamber. I step toward the divide. An infant’s cry, a solemn gasp, and the ticking of a clock sound as I approach.

“Child, you have returned. The place you are is the first and last place your existence came to be. From the heights of freedom to the depths of sorrow you fell. Here, you can forget for you’ve become faded.” echoes an omnidirectional and gentle voice.

Cracks of light spread until everything clears up. I fall to my knees and gasp at the sight. Charred ground that black vines grow from goes from horizon to horizon. A mob of people with a dark gray eyes walks around aimlessly. I feel a coldness in their gaze.

One woman grabs my arm. Despair, loneliness, and captivity surge from her weak touch. I pull away suddenly. The mob turns toward me. My mind screams to run but, my body freezes in fear. Stupidly I think about the state of the human condition as they overpower me and tear at my flesh with overgrown nails.

“Damaged. . .” I spit out that single word with a little blood, “Anger and hate vents from broken and lost hearts. Are you looking for a new beginning? I know I am.”

They mindlessly attack me. I feel myself sinking beneath the tide of their bodies. All the emotions gnaw at my heels to keep me stuck here. I cry and scream for help while knowing it’s just in vain. Eventually my body grows numb to the pain.

I dig my nails into the charred ground and pull myself through the mob. My arms collapse from exhaustion. The shadows of their tangled bodies swallow me up whole. I try to remember better times before now because I can no longer feel anything. One memory finds its way among these dark times.

A day where my heart aches but my eyes could no longer cry. My best friend, another kid apprentice in a small town known for its superb smiths, argues with military officers about prices. They call him a greedy kid but they are wrong. He works hard trying to get medicine for kids in an orphanage.

He looks at the villagers who turn away from him. And I, his friend, walk away to work on my craft. After a few hours I run to his family home knocking on the door. No one answers. I decide to sit on their stairs until they return. Before I notice the suns begins setting bringing with itself a cold April shower. Cold and shivering I wait.

I open the door around midnight. He sits there on his knees in a pool of tears. The candles cast a shadow over him but I reach out to touch his shoulder. My thoughts race and no words come out. He pushes me away.

“Where did you go! They, no. . .no one believed me. Those kids are dying! And the military offers nothing while expecting cheaper prices for their duty. They called me a petty thief. No one spoke of my innocence as they called me guilty. Look at what silence does!” he raises bandaged hands missing a few fingers.

“I’m sorry but what could us kids change? They could’ve killed you.” I speak without hesitation and bite my tongue after.

“Get out.” he pushes me back.

That day’s mistake still eats away at my conscience. Thoughts like what-ifs gnash and tear. A wound forms from looking back while knowing I can never change the past. It keeps me awake at night. And my senses return with the old heartache.

“I fucked up back then. I know that. Yet from failure I still dare wish to succeed.” I shout with my whole heart.

“To feel pain is the cost to feel anything at all but don’t become obsessed with it. Learn to grow with every step. And with any luck this darkness, a horde of tainted hearts, will never be. Cure the blight.” everything blurs out of focus.

Hello or Goodbye? ~ I Never Know

A dagger thrust between your chest
And mine. See the light of dawn
On this horizon where dreams rest
In their forlorn cradle and coffin.

“Oh please just take away the pain, a stain of a life
Only washed away by our blood with this one knife.”

Eternity will call as we fall to our knees
One by one in procession. We’re falling
Through the skyline and I’m unafraid
Of what comes next. Hello or goodbye?
This is an evolution-revolution-devolution
To see myself fall from materialistic highs.

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To find a way between light and darkness. . .

 

 

Protocol13: To Save the Endarkened

A time existed where mankind found itself owing a debt to its own hubris. The cities once full of jubilant laughter fell into silence as if they all were in mourning. One man died but his death wouldn’t grant amnesty to those responsible.

Him and a friend saved everything that was, is, and will be. He wasn’t great, humble, nice, or anything. . .definitely no messiah. But he didn’t have to be. A choice came to him; will you run away from consequences or will you face them even if they’re not your own?

The universe began dying after selfishness infected it with a blight. Thirteen heavenly gates manifested into existence. Each gate hosted a trial that could revitalize the universe. These two men faced trial after trial in a desperate attempt not to let everything fade away.

Desnei and Saker, the names of the two, only achieved victory at the last gate. Human rulers didn’t hesitate to martyrize them for their bravery. Two new species created by humanity stomached the brutality.

The Larthans met with the Veryn’Kah (Black Demons) months later. One of the Veryn’Kah remarked about the fact that humanity will recreate the blight. He pushed for extermination. Larthans offered reeducation as a rebuttal because of the human adage “two wrongs don’t make a right”. After weeks of intense debate both parties reached a compromise.

Three Larthans halted action from every human military while the others herded humanity into secure, self-sustaining cities. During humanity’s incarceration the Larthans and the Veryn’Kah fought off residual effects from the blight. The Endarkened.

Sadly thirty centuries wasn’t enough time. The universe decided humanity has to be the ones to save themselves. Us in the Royal Protectorate understand fully what it means to bear the sins of others. I once hated this organization with a passion but now I know the truth. We have a lot to clean up after. This isn’t a god’s mess. . .this is ours and we don’t need a miracle or a holy debt to fix it.

“We protect the innocent; we save the lost and forgive them of their transgressions; we fight darkness to see the dawn; we are the Royal Protectorate.”

sa;bdry

The Creators of Fate: Humanity

I walk among statues of the people I swore I’d defend. They all stare at the center of the city, the Citadel of Lost Dreams. A group of cloaked men walk to the entrance but stop to look at me. One of them in the back touches their shoulders making them collapse lifelessly. Shadows cover his face and still I could see his eyes. In his eyes radiates a white, illuminated fury.

When a darkness manifests from our hearts
Into existence it’s a blight of the World Tree.
We tried living on green plains and to be free
But we burned it all away. The story repeats.

Twelve blights forsake the roots fighting to live
Among desiccation. We only take and never give.

So will you change before it’s too late?

sink
It takes just one act to change everything. . .

The Grand Judge v. Desnei

A man who lost his life and turned into something called the Grand Judge had a very rough existence. He never knew his parents due to a terrorism attack at the hospital he was born. The government discarded him into an orphanage with no funding until a wealthy couple adopted him. They treated him more like a slave than a kid by never giving him an education.

Ultimately an elderly butler taught the kid to read. They spent hours talking about the glorious world out there. One day the adoptive father fired the man for what he did. The man asked to adopt the kid because this wasn’t right for them to do. After consideration he accepted the offer at a considerable monetary cost.

They walked across town to a house on the outskirts. He taught the kid a lot but his health kept declining. A sickness crept in and robbed the kind man of his life. Eventually the government took custody again sending him into the military as a child soldier. This one journey in life taught so much pain and hate to an already hurt human.

He hung himself. . .

Desnei met a lot of tragedy as well. He never took his own life but life tortured him in so many ways. Many of the events that lead Desnei into the darkest side of his world create the series Rise of the First Blight. He lives in a world created by the Grand Judge (after he lost his humanity by playing god for millions of years).

Desnei is the last hope for the Grand Judge to finally change his heart. . .


“Treacherous burner of the tapestry of fate,
I spent eons creating a perfect civilization
Where pain doesn’t exist. Only destruction
Followed their births. All the suffering I hate.

Why would you forsake my final grand plan?
With a single thought I could start over again.”

“What do you have to hate? The tears and blood
We spill have nothing to do with you. If your flood
Clears the slate we won’t vanish from where we stood.

Each civilization you destroyed remains within.
What are you running from? It cannot be us all.”

“I’m no god. I was just a man that gave up.
When I was given a choice I just ran far away
And the choice caught me. Given my wish
Because I must learn of something new.”

“Maybe that life isn’t something you can choose.
Life has been and will be. Are you afraid to lose?”

“I already lost. A cruel world where I didn’t belong
Lost me with a little rope. The world was so wrong.”

“I pity you. Did no one ever show you a little heart from the start?”

sa;bdry

Where the Mists Began

The Mists, what is it? I guess the material that makes up consciousness. It’s something constantly changing but represents the concept of self. The self is not a certainty. People find who they are through their experiences. A blank canvas represents the Mists and life’s experiences represent the colors of paint on a palette. What they paint; what they become doesn’t matter as long as they live.

I thought of the Mists because I’ve always questioned bloodshed over beliefs. Many times beliefs weren’t at fault but used by others with bigger agendas. But what of the ones who believed in what they did? It’d be very cruel if one set of beliefs held credibility while others didn’t. Without certainty I created the concept of the Mists to move people from a narrow mindedness. Will others follow? Probably not. The contingency of humanity doesn’t gain much from working together against those with bigger agendas. They’re better off believing everything they’ve been told because they’d lose a lot of their comforts. I can spout ideals all my life yet get nowhere with my dedication. Selfishness will undoubtedly lead humanity towards a pinnacle moment where survival and luxury collide.

At that point the Mists took on a new direction as the basis of a fictional story. During my leisure time throughout my high school day I fleshed out the tale. A tragic hero named Desnei conquered death only to find himself cleaning up the mess of a world teetering upon its destruction. His world mirrors the real world in some respects to humanity and how we too teeter upon our destruction. Through his efforts Desnei saved his world some time after sacrificing himself. Without going into too much detail he originally lived during a time where four major cities vied for supremacy despite on paper being united by a World Government.

Two of the cities openly assaulted each other causing many mass exoduses during their hostility. Desnei attempted fleeing with his fiance with a military caravan. They discovered the opposing regiment sent out genetically altered humans after the caravan. Either him or his fiance had to assist a few soldiers in distracting the enemy. Chivalrously Desnei accepted the task and promised he wouldn’t die there. The thing about promises is we sometimes can’t keep them because every step forward has a risk. A risk that we turn and run, we try and fail, or we win this bet. He died.

The Mists welcomed the young man’s consciousness as his body stopped functioning. A question he often struggled with in life displayed itself in a way he could easily relate to. Run away or face the truth? Many humans find themselves caught between these two routes. It’s easy living in one’s limited view of life but harder learning from the views of others. Although the choice decided during life might not be the best in death there’s another chance. Is one path right or wrong? Not entirely. People advance at their own pace. A closed-off view will be safer than exploring the unknown. Taking the step from safety towards uncertainty must be directed by the person living the life no matter how much time might be spent. Desnei stated a great response towards himself at this time:

“You have lived your life and died by a choice to help another live one more day. Will you live on believing everything is alright or face that you’re dead without her? It hurts, yeah it should. You’re upset for obvious reasons but a choice must be made. Look forward instead of behind.”

Ultimately he accepted the reality. The place he entered contained trillions of other consciousnesses existing. Some were good and some were bad. Others told him about the layout of the Mists, the rulers of certain isles, the Fog of Lethe, and so many remarkable things he never believed in. Desnei decided he’d set off towards the nearest ruler named Rintaen but discovered true unrest in the Mists. A large squirmish between men and men with wings erupted over trivial matters. After he made landfall one of the men with wings promptly tossed Desnei and his raft back into the Mists. Unsure what he messed up Desnei drifted between that isle and another until a mysterious man appeared. Kronos.

They talked about the Mists for a long time. Kronos explained that the isles share names with writings from multiple faiths. The two isles nearby deemed Heaven and Hell may have similarities with their religious equivalents but they aren’t the same. This Kronos convinced Desnei that he ferried separated lovers from these isles back together at a cost. Desnei asked him if love could bridge a way back to the real world. Kronos replied:

“Of course love can make that a desire but payment is the means by which I can reunite you with your loved one. I often gather small memories from those seeking love but you’d sacrifice much more. I can’t take all your memories or I’d release a monster into existence. What to do. . .oh wait, a deal that only the living could do. Us figments of the Mist don’t truly exist and because of that we can never enter where you came from. Let me use you for my bidding. I’ll smuggle you to a place where hope doesn’t exist so you can do what’s impossible there. Revive yourself.

If you can’t I’ll bring you back here. She’ll die eventually then you’ll both be reunited and I’ll take a few unnecessary memories. What do you have to lose? Desnei think about what could be done if you returned. You probably wonder others never returned but that’s because I didn’t exist back then. A certain difference in the combined consciousness conjured me. So, what would you do with your renewed life?”
“Cherish every second. I’ll do it.”

That single choice started Desnei down an entirely different route than if he waited. This is what the Rise of the First Blight teaches people. We’re all humans trying our best but sometimes we make foolish choices. Good or bad doesn’t matter because life can become very confusing with all the differing variables. The journey he began here will open a new way for many others, a new set of variables. As a story Rise of the First Blight can be described as daunting for it’s meant to be something that reminds humanity about who we are.

sa;bdry