The Red-Gold River; The White-Gold Sky

[Mescaffier 6197]

 

"All that you see is cast from yourself; the world is 

your mirror, and every gesture returns

 to you."

 

Lava burbled at the flaked edges of the basalt earth, ash and soot sweeping across the desolate land in waves. Coppery, red-gold veins cracked the ground as it tremored, the glow of flows beneath his feet. Potential, he thought; like the fiery rivers that surrounded Alemdrom, these too would some day come to surface.

 

“It has been long since I’ve done much of anything,” he lamented to himself. “And an idle mind is the devil’s workshop.”

 

✧⥼──────༺༻🔥༺༻──────⥽✧

•༺ ⚘ ༻•

 

So, as he had often done when he was but a Herald, the winged man climbed, and climbed, and climbed the vast mountain their castle roosted upon. The white-gold light of the heavens he basked in as he reached the top. The rafts of pumice cracked and shifted like floes of ice atop the molten rock. 

  

“ ‘What is the difference between red-gold and white-gold?’ ” the Ordained recalled; an Um’ei he’d heard, pondered, but never answered. So fate had it he would, and so he did. The scorched feathers upon his back strained against the whipping wind. His aged limbs creaked as he stopped at the lip of the caldera, threatening to topple him over and down into it – momentum, a potential energy.

 

What stopped the man from leaping into the caldera, then on? Knowledge.

But from where did it stem? How could he know that it would burn, without having been burnt once before?

And so, the epiphany came to him.

 

✧⥼──────༺༻🔥༺༻──────⥽✧

•༺ ⚘ ༻•

 

[!] Within the library of Alemdrom,

 a new piece of parchment could be found with all 

the other Asioth-writings; perhaps an aid to others who

sought wisdom on such a tricky matter.

 

There is no action without vision.   The strike of a hammer, and the hand that steadies it with its intent. Raw clay, and a sculptor’s palms which mold it. What moves the hand? What moves the mind?   A river runs beneath the sky that guides it. Action and reflection, Creation and comprehension, Heart and mind.   The river stops at the horizon. The sun rises from it. The creation of all things, and the end of all things.   This is the difference of red-gold and white-gold.

 

"Look again, and you shall find that 

every shadow is a reflection of your

 flame, a voice of your becoming."

 

Spoiler

Couldn't sleep,.,, hence any weird grammar/spelling if there is any 💔 idk how to do those fancy tables on the forums SOMEONE HELP ME

 

 

[xo31 4013]

Elijah, another Herald, peered upon this and thought to decide where he might reflect on it's wisdoms.
Once he read it, he spoke out-loud the location in which he'd use.

 

"A Holy Peak."