THE COLD TRUTH

[Panashea 3325]

༺  ✧ T H E  C O L D  T R U T H   ✧   ༻

 

The pride of my clan bled for a new age. A Heartbeat as strong as steel, and as bright as the sun.  I could feel the heat of pride inscribed in the runes we cast, for how could an Uruk forget home? How could Krug’s purpose be maligned by those who bore his blood? When the book opened, the vision drained from my eyes. The smell of blood reminded me I was alive, but I was dead.  

 

There was no home in failure.  There was no Stargush’Stroh, nor hope for me to claim from these wastes. My pride had been met with ice. My journey, its end.

 

The power of the Throqu’grizh began to die. I had seen this in omens- A clarity bestowed from the blood of Izig. To know that the curse of my forbearers traveled here, even beyond the mortal plane.  This realm was penance then, to embrace the cold death we had given others. I would not see the Stargush here.

 

---

 

Damned by the Spirits, entrapped in anathema, the Bloodflame Shaman could do little but think. Centuries drifted by in visions when the pain let up enough to be conscious. His flesh lamented this place, and yet he was caged. 

 

The tall trees formed the long arms of his jail. The fires within his soul stirred, offering him warmth in a place without it. But eventually, that fire would fade. Hours became days, and days to years, and yet he remained steadfast.  It was only when the Akaal heard Ixli’s words again, did his purpose melt through the snow. 

 

THERE IS NO SIN IN SHADOW OR IN LIGHT THAT THE FIRES OF THE DEAD CANNOT FORGIVE.

There would be nothing to gain from dying here, nor worth the difficulty of traveling to such an awful place. Danthir’s hate would only breed a new resolve from the Akaal, and a new world of fire on the lands below.  It was uncertain whether the Akaal had been shown a cruel reminder, or an inevitable omen, but he would continue nonetheless. The spokes of fate would continue to turn, and he would melt the ice.