Declaration of the Third-Eye

[Jentos 6930]

 

 

The Third Eye’s Declaration

To the scions of Azdromoth

 

 

 

Wind blew harshly in the northern wastes. Here and there, the cry of hawks circling high above. There, the crash of dark waves over great tumults of rock. Smoke rose from a great pit in a mountain of fire, drawn like endless rolling designs by the wind. Red Mountain. Jog’Oth. This was the name the race of the nephilim knew the mountain as. They resided by its center, deep in its belly of fire where a fortress they’d carved from black stone hanging over a red great mirror. 

 

Tor-Praeth. The hanging tower. There were bricks inlaid in the foundation that were older than they. Drawn from old realms from the ziggurats of their King, ferried on ships, and used to make their burning temples. 

 

It was strange how their temples screamed with colour and meaning, as much as they dwelt in silence. Every footfall in the temple of Tor-Praeth resounded. Every movement was reflected unto the polished red tiles by the firelight. Every act was spied, as much by the flames, as much by the silent stone remains of the dead Nephilim standing in their shrines. The bells chimed. 

 

But not that day. Every fire was extinguished but the blue flames of the kiln. The candles stood, pale and dead all about. Every footfall was dulled. That day, a shadow - an emptiness, dwelt in the Temple halls. And in the place where the stone remains of Bodakur had dwelt, was nothing but smashed rubble. Bodakur, who had been found in their room, alone – turned to stone. There had been a sadness, in that face of stone. And to see Bodakur now smashed to pieces was like torment. What greater crime could there be against one’s memory? One by one, every candle was re-lit. One by one, every fire was rekindled. He could not reassemble the remains of his dead brother. But he could honour their memory. He could remember them. He could keep Bodakur in his heart, as he did every lost nephilim, every lost story, every dead, every one that had been forgotten by time but to him. In a way, this is why the Prince remained. In honour to the dead. And in service, in eternal service. 

 

There was such melancholy in him. Such memories. There was a pain that was ever unspoken. Heralds were put under trauma, broken, singed and tormented. They were tested and put before an inch of their life. Why? Because the Soul must be ready. Not all souls are fit to mantle Dragon.

Not all can tolerate it. Why do elves go mad? Because the Soul can only tolerate so much, remember so much, hold so much. Like a cup, it began to overflow. Meaning, the An-Gho knew, had tangible weight. Power. It was different, for the dragons - if only one had the capacity to mantle their blood and their soul correctly, they would never overflow. And the An-Gho had been ready. Made ready. He had been broken so many times in his prior existences. This is why the tears he had ever shed could be counted on one’s fingers. A prophet weeps only when the time is right. Every act must be measured. Every movement, every thought, the production of a thousand calculations and a myriad of revelations. 

 

Impossible knowledge sometimes meant the impossibility to act. But not for him.

Not for the Third-Eye. Enlightenment moved him as much as the arm which swung the sword. 

 

With a word, every candle cindered into bursting life. Song thrummed in the temple halls. With a wave of his arms the fires began to dance, and he stepped before the hanging altar of the Arch-Drakaar. 

 

 

“Oh Father. You who are the light. You are Justice. The way and the sword.

You are the shadow, which kneels the World.” 

 

The Third-Eye knelt before the kiln of fire within the tabernacle. Black hands were raised wreathed in blood.

There was a guttural noise from the depths of his frame - an inhuman call, a resounding sound that redefined what it meant to speak, and what it meant to know. It was a language like no other, one of rock and fire, something serpentine, something primeval and ancient.

And above all, it was a call, a cry. Something to beget an answer. 

 

The Third-Eye spake impossible words before the dancing flames. He spoke the words. “SHAR AZAR’DUL.”

Sorcerous light shone from between his lips. The light of this eyes waxed. 

 

His kneeling frame seemed to waver left and right as if in a whirling dance.

After his ritual act, he stilled. Mid-day came, and the bells rang. He stared upon the flames. His Third-Eye burned brightly. The bells rang. He stared. The day came and the day went. And he did not stir. The bells rang once more. He did not eat. He stared. He did nor stir. The bells rang. The Third-Eye waited. He did not stir. He did not eat. He stared upon the flames. He stared. The Third-Eye stared. He did not eat. The bells rang.

 

The Third-Eye was crossed legged before the flames. Days had passed and he had not stirred.

But he stared on, lost in ministrations - murmuring, praying to a thousand impossible things. 

 

It had been decades since he had heard a word. He had seen vision in the flames, clearly. He had seen such things.

But never a word. Never a song. Never a vision. Azdromoth was silent. And there was great wisdom to be found in that. 

 

He rose. He faced the Inquisitor Eternal. He called. The dead stone answered. 

 

To all those who dream of fire; To the People of Azdromoth

Silence is a gift. 

 

If not for silence, how shall we be heard. Let alone, how shall we hear ourselves? Through silence, do we make. Through silence, do we roar. 

 

Silence denotes a lack, an emptiness. And as all things are empty, it is for us to fill them. So thus, does the World give us vessels to fill. I called, and among the silence, the Second Eye; the Inquisitor Eternal answered; 

 

“You measure yourself by what you fill. Do not measure. Fill.” 

 

I have stared in the fires of our Temple, I have pierced the black gaze of the obsidian ball, I have conversed with the Inquisitor Eternal, and I have seen what acts we must perform; 

 

I - In Three Dragon’s Days, you will meet me in Tor-Praeth. Then, we will march. And we will render the city of Atemu-Ta to silence through fire and sword. 

 

II - The children of the Four-Brothers have called for our aid. Two distinct Voidal Horrors stalk this reality. We shall answer to the best of our duty, and honour our vows of protection until stone take us. 

 

III - We shall search the lands for the remains of our fallen kin. The many-races will be interrogated, and through trade and task acquire dragon-bone and dralachite to honour the blessed metal. All those who should acquire the blessed metal shall be taught the ways of vehement smithing. 

 

IV -  The remains of Bodakur have been desecrated. A crime has been committed. Retribution will be had. I say; to whomever it was, declare it, or forever be the coward dog you were meant to be. 

 

V -  A century ago, the Druids of the Grove struck an agreement with me and my kind. I have not forgotten how they broke their promise. We had won their accord through the right of conquest, and we shall win it again through conquest yet still. 

 

VI - Project Ymylmagar will enter Phase II

 

Do not rely on me, or my word, to take action. 

 

Together are we mighty. Unified, we are a tempest of fire. 

 

 

 

Arbiter, Prince, Prophet,

~The An-Gho

Spoiler

This information is only available to Azdrazi, Heralds, and allies. 

 

Additionally, I take no credit for the posted art or screenshot. I must also credit Werew0lf for the wonderful formatting of his previous Azdrazi posts that helped me figure forums out. 

 

[wooz 413]

Bodakur's only herald, Median; who hoped to one day see his mentor again and be something he'd be proud of was silent. He read it over and over again, not believing the words as he began to weep. 

@rukio

[shadowhunter3578 32]

[exogens 934]

The Ancient One wiped off his sweat as he took a breath in order to read the announcement after his dauntless work at Phase I. He then scanned through it quickly before reaching the 5th point as he somewhat groaned "Phase two shall start then..." He then went over to prepare the necessary equipment to achieve such.