Watching

[MALUKOR 225]

Spoiler

 

 

 

“I say to you that it is not the believers of Xion that will inherit the heavens, nor the undead who will take the last steps in this world. Azdromoth will not mete out the final destiny, nor will the Void consume reality. All these things will be undone in a great war, which is the first and the last calling of man: the annihilation of the supernatural. This war will be led by a man from the desert, who will know the past, present and future as if it were inscribed upon the floor on which he walks. He will lead the children of Horen to total victory, and establish a new Oren - not just upon a single continent, but spanning across worlds and realms. This is the fate of man: an eternal Empire, stretching out across the stars.”

 

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He dreamt, for a time, of phrases unknowable, of metaphysics and abstractions incalculable by mortal means. Great cogs and wheels span across the stars, and the darkness inbetween those pinpricks of light held horrors and wonders that boggled the mind. Comets raced across the heavens, and his neck twitched. The elder cried out in his sleep, seeing a vast whirlpool of souls, immortals feasting upon the suffering of countless, leading the Descendants to total extinction in the service of their hunger.

 

He saw the evil of stagnation. The righteousness of the GOD.

 

Eventually, Aramor woke, though his vision was still dark. Blindness was not treating the elder well. He could feel the warmth of the desert, rub the sand between his withered fingers - but he could hardly see. He was parched, on the verge of starvation.

 

Very lamentable.

 

Whatsmore, whilst he usually maintained a more whimsical nature, his dreams had grown disturbingly profound as of late, as if some distant thing was calling him towards a great duty. He had no particular desire to fulfil this duty, whatever it was - what could old and broken bones do? 

 

Blind bones, too.

 

No matter. He was soon to die. He saw this as clearly as a blind man could. Feeling his way to a palm tree, he collapsed under it, lay his head against the bark, and felt content for the gentle warmth provided by the faux-sun in the sky. He felt peaceful, at the very least. The Canonists were right.

 

He fell asleep, not expecting to wake.

 

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Are you about to die, Aramor? 

 

Your duty is to watch, not to die. And yet I see that you no longer have the eyes for such a task, nor the whimsy that so defined you.

 

What do you think death is? To experience life in the round. The next step.

 

One that I will not permit you to take. Do not weep, son of Vespius. I will not let you die. I will not give you eyes, either: you will have to find those yourself. Think of it as a quest, as in the earlier days. The days of heroes.

 

Do not speak of this. It is not your duty to act, only to watch. Seek out the Pontiff - speak to him of your quest. Gain vision, so that you may fulfil your task. Do not let this dark night of the soul tax you as it has so far.

 

Go, my loyal fool.

 

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When Aramor woke, he felt himself again. He could continue after all.

 

"EXCELLENT," he declared to the rising sun, though he could not see it and it was a bit too far away to hear him unfortunately, and began to walk to the east.

Edited September 3, 2024 by MALUKOR