A Revelation Reached

[Heero 4092]

 

The two thrust their arms first forwards, then straining again back. Rowing for a destination that seemed unreachable. Exhaustion setting in on their aching muscles. Yet, just as the sea charts anticipated, the strip of isles slowly came into view under the relentless high noon sun. With the fruit of their labors in sight the unlikely pair directed their dingy towards the largest piece of land among the scattered islands. The Mali’aheral dropped his weary arms, the Mali’ker doing likewise, and together inhaling deep breathes of the the land’s soothing aura. They had finally set foot on their destination.

The Isles of Serenity.

 

 

 

(Serenita by Skysealer. Deviantart)

 

The duo both hauled their small boat, beaching it firmly away from the tranquil waves before discarding their foot wear. Leaving both pairs within their vessel as they turned to traverse the blissful isle. Wandering for short period of time before reaching a petite pond housing a clear, glistening body of water surrounded by rich vegetation and life. The Mali’aheral Crumena Ilwindor stepped forward. Planting himself beneath a well shaded tree beside the water. He loosely folded his legs and propped himself against the trunk of the tree. Closing his eyes as he extended a hand outward. Gently submerging his hand into the water as brief ripple unfolded. The Mali’ker Hosper Blackthorn follows after. Sitting himself in a similar position adjacent from Crumena. Yet eyeing his companion with a grim, solemn stare as the Arch-Mage hastefully slipped into a state of meditation without a word.

 

 

Little under an hour passed and Crumena quietly muttered an inaudible word underneath his breath followed by long held sigh whilst the Itharel of Wisdom remained fixated upon his pale friend with a concerned expression painted over his dusty visage. Still as if he were chiseled from lightly charred stone. Yet the enlightened apostle of Tahariae was unknowing to what his partner was witnessing.

 

(Unknown source.)

 

Blanked in a domain of white the Arch-Mage worked strenuously. Numerous wheels of an assortment of colours spun articles of information. Spreading out far and wide within the Elf’s dominion. Written scripts, words being spoken between aloud, images and reflections of the Arcanist’s life crowded his space. Swiftly being evaluated by both Crumena himself and his Spectator Mind separately. Yet with each passing minute the wheels bearing this abundance of information accelerate at a steady pace only to be met with the occasional grumble. The payload of information increasing with the pace of those imaginative wheels. Processing faster and faster before he had finally reached it. The disks had become encompassed and a thick red hue. The information spun being almost illegible but it was still crystal clear to it’s audience of two. The Cognat and his two minds had finally reached their climax. The two separate mental entities closened, capable of working in unison as the information began to process. Years of memories becoming calculated and evaluating in mere seconds. Though to the Arch-Mage’s misfortune turbulence was an unpreventable occurrence. The illusion of enlightenment was quickly shattered the slightest warning.

 

(Cognition by Vershroben. Deviantart.)

 

Crumena recoiled forward. A loud, continuous ring blared through his head. His every bones quivered under the uncontrolled surge of thought. In the high-way of his hyper-thought he had encountered what he feared most; instability.

 

 

His mind began to come undo at the seams. Random and chaotic images and icons washed over Crumena. Burying him under the pressure for the untamed stream of thoughts. His nose began to give a trickle of blood. His breathe quickly picking up before settling on the edge of a full blown episode of panic. Fighting to maintain his state of sporadic meditation he found it. The error he had submitted himself to. In the very distance of the realm of mind he could see it as a blurry reflection of himself draped in grey. Just confirming its existence only rubbed more salt in the wounds. His body shivering as sweat found it’s way down his frame and his body ached. He face was as red as a ripe tomato. It felt as if he was sitting in the center of a raging inferno, not that of a tropical paradise. That icon draped in a hazy white was his mental companion. His Spectator Mind, a true double edged sword to the fullest definition. Just being aware of it being the source of his grief only intensified the strain. He loosened his connection between his own mind and that of the one the womb of the Void had gifted and very well damned him with at this point. As he struggled in protest he felt the turret of data soften. He had quickly discovered it. The golden ratio. The idle correspondence of information for both himself and the Spectator Mind to process had been found. As stability was restored the barrage of information revert to that of a fastening stream of thought. He recollected himself as he body composed itself naturally once more. It was a true relief, almost as if a blessing. As the strain from the relentless onslaught of thought relieved itself from the Arcanist, the halls of his mind reformed themselves into an organized tunnel of recollections and notes. Words and scripts whizzed by. To any it would have appeared to be that of a thickened, bold line. Yet to composer present everything was clerly legible. He comprehended his environment fully. After a short duration he had come across what he desired. What he sought for. The words and voices curved inward. Folding like sheets of paper as it projected the image of the lost college of Wyverwyn and he stood in it’s catacombs. And just as he had anticipated, so did the monster he had accidentally and so foolishly freed from the forgotten prison that rested underneath the institution of the Arcane.

 

(Dark Wizard Revis by capprotti. Deviantart)

 

It stood before him. A large bulk of mass cloaked in eerie dark robes. Along the trim clear runes marked the fabric. Shining a bright blood red in the dark chamber. Underneath the cowl he could barely see it. A visage bearing two petite tusks and rugged grey skin. Almost that of tarnished leather. An assortment of grim wisps flutter behind the creature.

 

Outvoker. Outvoker. Outvoker. Outvoker. Outvoker.

 

The name chanted itself in a familiar tone, yet it as a hushed tone. No. It was muttered silently. As if it engraved itself into his brain discreetly. The scene quickly crumble. The image shattered into fragments of multi-colored glass before restructuring itself.

 

(Credit to Freya for the screenshot.)

 

It was the sporadic halls of Rasmot’s tower. The disconnected world the Arch-Mage and his guild that had now settled in and called home. Yet the same familiar words whispered to him. Just as he had first heard them within the sporadic halls of the mad wizard. The same toneless voice caressed his ears lightly.

 

“Ual alaan uak, si grulla’lk gar…?”

“Tan een surad bok. Crumena…”

The very mention of his name rattled the Arch-Mage to his very core.

“...Ska een?” the recollection continued on. Only to bombard him with taunting laughter.

“Baul, my office!” it ordered.

 

(Credit to TehLulu for the screenshot.)

 

He wandered onward. Entering the rift proudly mounted in the epicenter of the crazed tower as he emerged in the rather tamed library. He traversed the island in the middle of the study. Standing firmly across what what used to be the desk and seat of Rasmot himself. A grimy, worn wig laided fixed in the air upon the warped throne of watermelon.

 

"Ulan enn, grulla'lk!”

the withered voice boomed.

"Tana Rasmot!"

it barked. Only for dissipate in a flurry of colorless light.

 

Crumena stood there in silence. The books that surrounded him begin to shudder before throwing themselves forward. Streams of text wriggled outward. Coiling before the Arch-Mage was they encased him in a bubble of text. His eyes trailed each line as sections of the text slide forward rapidly and fluidly. Almost as if it were a spherical rubix cube. He stood there stiff. Not a word nor a breath escaped him. Only movement or sign of life were his eyes scanning the material before him. Trained on every strand of text that dared to venture across the surface of the imaginative orb. As he stood for what felt like an eternity the gears finally fell into place. The orb of information that surrounded him began to fade into nothingness. The simulation of the office receded into the original plane of white filled with turning wheels he originally saw. Though their speed quickly ceased as they decelerated before coming to a light halt. Yet those glorified wheels that appeared of an Arcane nature dispersed too. Sound began to slowly dawn upon Cognist once more.

 

He had finally came to. His eyes gently fluttered open was he was met wrapped with an peculiar stinging pain. He clinched his teeth yet for whatever reason it felt oddly blissful. As if he was enveloped in a blanket of warmth and serenity. As his senses returned to him after such long deprivation his foggy sight dissipated. He rested in cased in a cocoon of golden light. Night had befallen him as the moon hung over head. Illuminating the isles as the sound of the sea returned. Welcoming Crumena back to the world of the living.

 

As he sorely lifted his saw his friend Hosper, holding the weary Mali’aheral in his arms. Bearing the same solemn expression. Yet the signs of concern were replaced with that of relief. The veil of light quickly vanished as the Itharel recalled Tahariae’s light. Slowly the Itharel hauled his worn friend around his shoulders. Sluggishly making his way back to their dingy. He set Crumena in their sea vessel as he lazily slumped forward. His visage blank, still dazed from his daze of being trapped within the confines of his mind. The Mali’ker removed themselves from the shore and began rowing for the mainland as orb-like golden wisps illuminate their path. Embarking to return to the shores of Athera.

 

Apologies for any grammatical errors. Posted at 6AM and I'm too tired/lazy to properly proof-read.

[Kahzo1 218]

sweet

[CaptainSheepy 317]

Bootyful.

[Samson Option 9652]

You could have waited until I had time later today to proof-read lol

[Jake the Dog 290]

*Cheers as someone finally used light of Tahariae spell, thinking he was the only one.*

[Glyc 234]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.