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.
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.”
From ashes of a tree obsidian walls rise around.
A ghost conjuring tragedy. Don’t make a sound.
The Obsidian Lord feasts on the hysteria and fear.
Like exuberant birds scattered by a gunshot
We’re the prey in this great hunt. For every tear
They still offer us no mercy. Rage so hot
Burning the rope that we hold onto ever so dear
In hopes that we can find water. Caught
Between hurt and hope yet, tomorrow is so near.
From a well we can still replenish what’s been lost
In search of who we are. They don’t understand
What we have on the inside that keeps us going.
No matter the darkness standing right before us we walk
Without fear. Never give them an inch or they’ll talk and talk.
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?
The darkness inside lashes at my memories
In an attempt to steal who I am. It’s the mark
Burned into my flesh awaking my inner demons.
My wrath, lust, and pride slithering under my skin;
A burn that never goes away. Will they ever win?
I swallow my unsettled doubts, like pills with gin.
We don’t choose the fights we’re tossed into. Survive,
That’s what our hearts scream. Is that why I still strive?
Dark and cold black flames judge my heart to a feather.
I failed. Know that I’m not giving in. There’s a day that
I gotta see with these eyes and feel with these hands.
My wretched fate repeats day by day yet, I smile.
They call me Ariex Nightblade. I watched wars,
Witnessed genocide, killed a friend; I left
The Royal Protectorate to heal these scars.
This curse I took on instead of being ever so bereft.
My brother Synji bears the other mark.
The endarkened; the illuminated.
We serve two roles in a grand tragedy.
I need to survive. . .reject fate ordained.
They were once best friends. Pride and greed
Warped their hearts. So everyone take heed:
The desire to reach what we don’t need hurts
In the end when we betray a friend. We can
Walk forward together instead of racing.
A race towards death? Nobody wants that.
In a world where the subconscious can change
Reality they get what’s coming. Their grudge
Led to their deaths but they won’t rest. Rage.
They chase after positions of power in a reborn world.
Leading armies of the dead, searching for a champion,
And laughing at the pain of others. The good won’t stand
By while darkness marches on. These actions started a war.
So if you only see your desires know that you’ll fall all alone,
Instead of meeting that end stand up with me. We are one.
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?”
I stand in the devastation wrought by conflict. The victors will someday say how they fought for some grand ideal and paved a way towards a better future. They will only speak a fable far away from truth. People died because of stubborn policies protected by stubborn men. What will I say to the youth about us survivors?
Whoever strikes first usually lives. Any hesitation will shatter your bones and collapse your innards. The ideals I stood behind vanished as blood and gore drained onto the ground. Nothing could save me from the nightmare. I changed into the person I loathed, a killer. We all did.
Everyone says I should lie to forget what happened. I can’t hide from what haunts me when it’s me. A darker side surfaced. He aimed sword strikes at chinks in armor and burned foes in magical flames. I watched in terror knowing that this was me. Why did I enjoy watching other humans bleed and their skin melt? I’m sick inside.
When backed into a corner humans fight. The stubborn foreign policies forced my men towards action. Our enemy followed a man who promised a return to their homeland while he chased another agenda for someone else’s policy. Neither side cared to fill in these discrepancies before raising their arms. We soaked the Earth in iron cold blood.
Most humans know they’ll escape war but I’m unlike them. I tried protecting a city by aligning it with my enemy no matter what the cost was. My friend, my soul, and my ideals have all been washed away by a dark tide. Beneath the depths I realize that I’ll never return to the light I once so cherished. In suspension the coming war cradles me within the darkness my soul once rejected. Will a light ever reach me here before the tendrils drag me further below?
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.
Vasha'Lakar 
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