Generations Collide

[NomadGaia 930]

 

 

 

 

 

 

Theme

 

It all began in a cloud of smoke. It rose in front of Awaiti, like a veil of shadow being cast away. And there behind the veil was his face.

That face, oh that wretch’d face! Filled with her kin’s blood, but possessed by a different set of sunlit eyes. It was akin to staring into the face of death for Awaiti, for to her he was just that; a dead man, with a name lost to an age passed long ago. It was the face of her father, the man who left.

 

“You have my eyes.”

 

His words were both ice and fire in her gut, as she trembled with primal fear. He was completely right though, they looked very similar, between their ashen hair, and their amber eyes. Though however similar they were, they were not alike. Awaiti’s eyes were yellow like a sunset cast upon the drowsy world, while her father’s were like a primordial flame, set to consume the forest halls. Her hair was the ash of a hearth fire, the remnant of a happy moment. His was the ash that settled before the burning storm of the mountain.

 

With a shriek of steel, she pulled her blade from its home, and pointed it at him, ready to be rid of him as fast as he arrived. And with that, she swung for him, but just as quickly as she attacked, he simply moved out of the way. He was quicker than smoke, and was just as horrible to behold. She kept swinging again and again, but he kept moving out of the way, taunting her with his presence.

 

Her fight brought them to the top of a nearby hill. Her sword whistled through the air with every miss, singing songs of hate that rang through the air. There, he made his first move. He took hold of her, yanking her arm. They struggled, throwing each other back and forth. But no matter how hard Awaiti fought against him, he fought back harder. With one final tug, he sent Awaiti spiraling down the side of the hill, where her head fell upon a stone. She fought against the blackness, but it consumed her.

 

Harsh sunlight blanketed her vision when her eyes opened. But it all gave way to the forest halls she was used to. The gates to Linandria were in front of her, wide open to accept her. She wandered in, seeing the elves of the dominion going about their daily business. There was Artimec, speaking with a few new citizens. There was Lavi, guarding the gate. And lastly, Nyn was sitting on the edge of the fountain. She called out to her “Haelun!”, but she refused to hear. Awaiti reached out to grab hold of Nyn, but as she held on, her skin crumbled away, becoming sand that drifted away to the wind. All around her, Linandria fell into ruin, crumbling like a sand castle. Artimec, Lavi, Nyn. They all became the desert beneath her feet. She looked in every direction for the home that she’d lost but it was gone. The heat bore down on her with the weight of a star. She breathed in hot, dusty air and fell to her knees. Her eyes widened with despair.

 

She ran as far as she could through the desert, but t’was all in vain. The abyss stretched forever. She shouted to the heavens, cursing the cruelty of this morbid existence. But in those moments, she remembered why she was here. She needed to face her fears, or she would risk falling to whatever darkness the world held. The only question she let herself ask from that moment on, was “What do I fear?” The sky fell, and the ground turned to ash beneath her feet. Only the howling dust of the desert answered her pleas, until she heard a voice. She turned and saw herself, but much, much older.

 

“You fear two things Awaiti. What you will become, and what will become of you.”

 

She glanced around at the ashes surrounding her, understanding now that she was walking through her future. She came from ash, and unto ash she shall return, as will all things. In that moment, she accepted this. She knew what would become of her.

 

“The blood of the innocent stains your father. Murder runs in his veins. You’re afraid it runs through yours.”

“I am.”

“You are not your father, Awaiti. Blood alone does not determine who we will be. It is what we do with these gifts that make us who we are.”

 

Her hand grasped onto a handle, and she drew the branch she had always carried with her. She ran her fingers over the prayers that she had read since she was a small child. With every word she read, the ash around her fell away, giving rise to trees, and life. In the last moments of the ashen desert, she saw her father, whisked away with the ash. And after that, he became a distant memory, locked away from view.

 

After that, her eyes opened. She had faced her fears, and locked them far away, taming the wild beasts that they once were. She looked up at the forest canopy, blood having stained the side of her head. She had wandered far from the hill before she collapsed. She sat up, standing. Her vision was clearer than ever, and she knew now what she had to do. She started the trek home, weak and weary. She had finished half the battle.

 

 

 

[mitto 2312]

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.