I - The Fool. Beyond the Cosmos

[Gustando 1457]

Spoiler

 

 

 

In his dimly lit study that fateful night, the aging alchemist sat alone, lost in contemplation. Amidst a whirlwind of thoughts, one prevailed above the rest—the haunting absence of purpose he yearned to discover. Despite realizing his journey was far from over, he grappled with the pressing need to define his purpose. The question lingered: what was it that he was meant to fulfill? His knowledge merely represented a droplet in the vast ocean encompassing his aspirations, and to navigate closer to his goal, he understood the imperative of acquiring further insight.

 

Continuously seeking, his moments of contemplation stretched into hours, days blurred into an unending cycle—a relentless pursuit that begged to be halted. Finally, his focus shifted to the array of graphs etched onto the stone walls, drawn to a language embedded within a single line. It narrated the story of a lineage deeply connected to The Hanged Man, a family whose bloodline intertwined with that of the alchemist. A thought raced his mind. He felt a calling, a calling that only he could answer.

 

He felt hope, hope in the worlds that he did not know, where the Alchemist’s astral employment did not know yet. He prepared a rite, using his salts, and the tried umbilical cords that acted as his planar focus. Upon the necessities being done, the alchemist sat himself down in a meditative trance. Establishing himself into a resonant pattern of  breath, he had connected to the ever-present mana around him. With a determined gesture, a stream of cosmic energy enveloped the small room, tearing a rift in reality and propelling the Alchemist’s existence from Earth to realms beyond. Navigating the vast ocean had become a familiar routine for the Alchemist. The disorienting and physically taxing effects of planar travel that once left him nauseated and strained were now more manageable.

 

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In the plane beyond, the alchemist manifested. Akin a comet, the alchemist made a three-point landing, smoke rising from his person. His eyes scanned the expansive landscape, but it was not as he had envisioned. Instead, he found a profound emptiness, surrounded by colossal mountains of diverse shapes and sizes. There was an unsettling feeling about this world; he was certain of a peculiar force tugging at him from within its depths. Embarking on a pilgrimage his ancestors had once undertaken, he sought to uncover the beckoning call that now stirred within him. It was his time to follow in their footsteps.

 

Following this feeling, the alchemist set out. What seemed like weeks, did the alchemist travel endlessly through a multitude of forests and mountains. Day after day, he pressed onward, feeling an otherworldly pull tugging at the core of his being, nudging him towards an unknown destination. And dutifully, he followed. Then, on a day that felt fateful or perhaps serendipitous, he finally reached the peak of a hill. What lay before him was a sight that even he, in all his travels, found utterly unbelievable.

 

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Before the alchemist stood a towering structure of unknown origin, a monolithic marvel that seemed to have stood the test of countless years. Despite its mysterious history, the alchemist felt an undeniable pull towards this place. He sensed that this enigmatic tower was the destination where the mystical forces of the world urged him to venture.

 

It took days to reach the tower, the man passing by various abandoned homes of old, a city that once stood full of life, now dilapidated and empty, naught but the wildlife now having taken over. Its age was evident, large archways and stairs that ran along the various levels of the tower that had cracks and foliage growing off it, though the tower was in a far better condition than the buildings surrounding it. The Alchemist stood in awe and admiration at tower of Llull – the origin of worldly manipulation.

 

Pressing on, the alchemist scrutinized every detail of the tower's entrance. Two stone gargoyle-shaped guardians stood sentinel, their imposing presence giving an aura of authority despite their lifeless state. Their heads marked with ancient alchemical symbols.Their unmoving forms exuded a commanding air, silently watching over the tower's threshold. It was now clear to him, that once a great civilization had lived where he stood, yet, his mind pondered the reasons as to why they went extinct. It was not war, no, it seemed like everything merely vanished. These ancient people seemingly had used some ancient practice before the coming of Alchemy, being certainly unfamiliar to the alchemist.

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Climbing the tower proved to be a formidable challenge, the enormity of its structure requiring days to ascend. On each floor, the alchemist meticulously examined ancient murals, intricate etchings, statues, and unearthly marvels, diligently recording his findings before moving onward. As he approached yet another floor, a shadowy figure materialized at the top of the steps. The silhouette remained obscure, leaving Jeffrey unable to discern its identity, but in an instant, it ascended to the next level. Without a word spoken, an invitation lingered in the air, prompting the wandering Alchemist to follow suit. Swiftly ascending, he emerged onto a floor adorned with a flourishing botanical garden teeming with vibrant plant life. At its heart stood a figure familiar to Jeffrey - Gereon de Wees.

 

Jeffrey continued forward, marveling at the lush, unseen flora that had thrived for untold years. As he drew nearer to his grandfather, the two engaged in an extensive conversation that spanned hours. They wandered the garden in what felt like an endless procession, each circuit presenting Jeffrey with a fresh, uncharted perspective. Eventually, a sense of tranquility settled within Jeffrey. At last, in a moment of profound connection, the duo shared an intimate handshake. Afterward, Gereon guided him through a gateway leading back to Jeffrey's home, beyond the Cosmos.

[Laeonathan 3970]

Spoiler

Happy to see people use the spire for roleplay. The 15 hours of work were worth it, I guess.

 

[_Leyd 686]

God bless, return to the era of schizo posting. Beautiful writing young scholar