Renouncement of Binding

[Thomas 3014]

"You melted down, questioned yourself, said all you know will betray or abandon you."

 

As the night cast overhead, the once young Mali’aheral stood within the upper halls of an all too familiar Library, his hands loosely at his sides with the balcony door swung open to the world beyond. There was no one to leave him this time; Not his Sister, or his Mother.. Even the quills and parchments once strewn along the table were absent. While his Maln had passed decades before, it was only now that his Father had left too. The friends and family he’d found over the years had whittled to dust; He trusted no one, not anymore.

 

The young Mali’ traced about the room, fingertips trailing against each counter until he came to the head seat of the table. As though the chair were a token of magical value, the Mali’ ran his fingers along the knots and scratches the chair had accumulated over the years, taking and gauging the very life and essence of the oaken wood, from sapling to the final place of rest here in this room. He sighed.

 

The weather turned dark as the sky closed into night, caliginous clouds shadowed overhead as drops of rain began to fall from the heavens above, and onto the stone laden streets of this once so crowded City. Like clockwork, the ringing and eldritch nature of whispers danced across his mind, the cold and callous glare upon the streets below.

 

“Washed by the waters of time.”

 

During his childhood, his Mother had always told him that when he felt alone, felt withered and worried, that the sky would reflect in a way which compliments him. Even as a child he knew this was a lie… But still, the rain from the skies soothed his active mind.

 

“Mister Crumena?” an odd and metallic voice would call from above, as though the skies themselves were speaking to him.

 

A simple hand raised through dismissive gesture, the rain falling against the roofs of the buildings, and the sounds of thunder resounded through his body as he trailed from the room to the balcony along the ways. Try as he might, a smile refused to present itself as the sounds of the world imbued comfort into his rigid and pallid form. The humid air of the tropical isle overwhelmed his senses as the rain washed over him. Each second felt like a year, every sound echoing and reverberating through his entire body like a drum. It pained him, thinking of how he lost another so dear to him. He felt weak. His clothes soaked through and his hair dripped with the tears from the skies. Silence.

 

Soon his gaze turned down to his hands, the stark and ardent hue of his eyes narrowed upon the flesh of his wrists as the sight came into view. Shackles, rusted and old, coiled around his wrists like chains around his hands. The skin lining the surrounding of the shackles lay stained red, bloodied and bruised, though no retort came from his stale form. These chains had become all he had known, shackled and bound, restrained from his true potential ever since he was a young boy.  The sensation of rusted and sharpened metal against his flesh had become but a connection in his life, though these restraints were hidden to normal men, they were part of him.

 

“It’s your fault.”

“It’s always your fault.”

“Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.”

 

His form twitched as the voice rang through his ears, gaze averted towards the stone streets below the balcony. Below him, standing upon the cool stone, stood a tall and proud looking ‘aheral, his eyes stark blue with prestigious attire. He held himself with a specific countenance unmatched by any other, though his resolution was undoubted by all around. Beside him, a young child. Around the age of nine or so, he stood with a beaming delight upon his features and a bounce in his step. Spritely and grinning from ear to ear, he trailed after the gentleman through the street, past the houses of those familiar, towards the city center. A certain glow was held to their forms, as the city around them held a bleak and grayscale feel, the two beings shone with an incandescent glow.

 

His breath hitched, the echoes of time waved before him like figments of reality.  It was then that he diverted, his form shifting to moved through back through the room he’d previously occupied, down the staircase and through the Library, out into the city.  It was quiet and bleak, the birds no longer sang within the trees, the tropical heat no longer pounded the street surface below, though the rain and darkened clouds remained to soar overhead. Each footstep felt like a mile, each raindrop a beat of a drum. The Mali’aheral trailed after the glowing figures before, soon rounding into the centre of the city, and into the Tavern of old. There they sat, the two figures, against the far and left wall. A grin adorned upon their lips, they seemed happy. Not a care in the world as the two joked and teased. This one… As the memories slowly returned to his mind, the visions of a cigar and a glass of ale flitted through his view, jolting a soft smile from the form who watched from afar.

 

As quickly as they appeared, the radiant beings simmered into the air around them, fading from view.

 

“You are alone.”

“You will always be alone.”

 

The words returned, a shiver sent down the spine of the Mali’ as he stood within the empty tavern, not a single being in sight..

 

Despite the softened sigh of the form within, the Library began to dissipate into the air itself, streaming out into wisp-like shapes and twisting in the air above. The Artificer stood within a blank space, surrounded by blinding light, though he soon found the wisps slowly shaping out and forming a particular location around him. An all too familiar amphitheatre began to seep into focus, the ruins of a once brilliant mark upon the land. Within the centre, one seated and the other standing, positioned opposing one another, bore the presence of the two incandescent figures. The child, roughly the age of sixteen, sat with his eyes closed and legs folded, as the elder Mali’ presided over his meditative state, arms crossed with a stoic gaze lingering forth.

 

The Artificer stood in silence, his attention fully set upon the echoes of his past as the scene unfolded.

 

“Keep focused.” The elder spoke carefully,  his tone quiet yet stern as not to interrupt the younglings state. As the seconds drew by, the glowing oem’ii upon the mound appeared to physically contort, his features tensing. Soon, his body slumped forward with exasperation, his breath gauged as his form shook. It was evident the youngling was weakened in this state, though the scene which followed brought a short smile to the Artificers lips.

 

“Easy, careful. Take a break.” The elder called out towards him, a hand extended out to press against the younglings head.

“But I can do it!” In retort, the youngling called out towards him.

“Don’t, you’ll kill yourself.”

 

As the two left the scene, wandering back towards the Library afar, the Artificer stood with an incomprehensible position in the fallen amphitheatre, though as the scene changed once more, he found himself in the presence of the radiant echoes time and time again. The next few minutes flashed by, as though the world was spinning past him at remarkable speed, and yet he stayed still. Time was relative to him now, as whispers, echoes and screams overwhelmed the scenario around him, each word striking into the depths of his very form, his very soul. Each fibre of his being ached as memories were forced through him, though his unrelenting nature permitted the being to endure the fatigue the echoes would bring.

 

“You should leave, get out while you still can.”

“I can’t..”

“I’m sorry..”

“You know I really think you might?

“You’re a good kid.”

“You melted down.”

“Potential.”

“Questioned yourself.”

“My son..”

“Said all you know would betray.”

“A suit of armour..”

“Or abandon you.”

“Becomes a home.”

“This is not a choice for me to make.”

“Guess that makes you a Grandfather now.”

“I’ll stand by your side, as always.”

 

Soon, the scene faded away, and the being found himself present within the very cell he’d spent three years trying to escape. Slumped against the wall was the body of his former self, luminescent and bright like the echoes before him. As Crumena Izalith lay weak and feeble, shackled and chained in nothing but his rags and metal, Crumena Synalli crouched down before him, meeting his gaze eye to eye. This time, however… This time, the echo was different. The echo was alone, though it’s comprehension of the Synalli’s presence was easily detected through its subsequent speech:

 

 

“You could have stopped this.” the Izalith spoke out to his elder self, spitting cold words through cracked and dried lips.

“Nothing could have saved us from this.” As the words were offered in retort, the Synalli seated himself before his younger form, gaze locked with his own.

 

“He could have saved us.”

“We saved ourselves.”

“We had no choice!”

“We always have a choice..”

 

“And now he’s gone, washed away like chalk upon stone.” The Izalith glowered, the resentment deep within him spewing out for both parties to witness.

 

The cell grew quiet, and the pair simply sat across from one another. The Izalith, torn, battered and bloodied, coiled and bound by the fresh shackles upon his wrists as the Synalli held composure and poise, though the bindings upon his form were aged and rusted, his flesh scarred. This cell was all he’d ever known in this time, the four walls had become home. With hay upon the ground and stone in all four corners, the saliva and blood staining various portions of the cold stone, he’d known no other location for three years. From ages thirteen to sixteen, he was bound within the same arduous and painful hovel, with no escape but the voices in his head.

 

“What will you do now?”

 

The silence was broken as the Izalith’s words mumbled through his callous and damaged form, blood staining his rags from the fresh lashings lining his spine.

 

“What I always have.”

“Wander around in search of solitude, only to trip and fail?”

 

The sounds of the room drew to a close once again as the comment was proclaimed, the otherwise stoic countenance of the Synalli seemed to falter. Despite the nature of the scene at hand, the Artificer leaned forward and slowly raised to stand once more.

 

“Well? What will you do, Crumena?”

 

As the room around the pair began to crumble to dust, the Artificer started his departure from the location and his younger form, with hands held limp at his sides, his gaze turned to the heavens as rain continued to pour down over him. The figure of his other self remained upon the ground, though their gaze never once separated from the lingering contact they held. As he turned, his words were spoken:

 

“Make him proud.”

 

With that, Crumena returned to where he had started, standing tall upon the balcony with his gaze set upon the rusted chains upon his wrists.

 

“Make them all proud.”

 

As the words left his lips, the thoughts of his Mother, Sister and those he had come to know would flash across his mind, and as the stoic facade washed from his features, the skies would part. Clouds shifted and dissipated from view, the bright luminescent rays of moonlight shone down upon the balcony with an astute light, allowing the rain stained flooring to dry along the stone. He stood once more, the illusion of his make fading from view as his gaze rose to the skies. In this moment, from all that has happened, been seen or been heard, the Synalli was empowered and driven to accomplish the goal he’d set to achieve since he was but a child. Perhaps in some ways, be it by his view or by others, he’d never left that cell when he was young. Perhaps he’d remained chained and caged until now, disallowing himself from understanding his true potential. But no longer, no longer would he succumb to the whims of his past. It was with this, this thought, that the rusted and sharp shackles binding his wrists would shatter into pieces.

 

With a grunt and the wringing of his wrists, he had broken from his bounds, the shackles were off and finally… Finally, he was free.

[Tsuyose 3285]

" Choose thy fate alone. Seize it with thine own hands. All the more, should thy fate entail such foul betrayal. Seek strength, and the rest will follow."

[GDPR 014 48]

 

Primordial shadows came over the depths; swallowing an aged Titan. It was dark, binding, like rusted chains that grated the Synalli's flesh; yet, even the abyss brings word. The words found what once was, picking at a carcass as slithered into the blackened frame. He could bear no tears, for life will simply go on. Crumena will persevere. 

[Kvasir 1121]

(( I thought this was a post getting rid of soulbinding. Was glad it wasn't.

[Reeg_ 75]

((This is quite well written, dude; good job. 

[Daisy 9735]

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

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.