Every Breath is a Sin.

[xo31 3979]

 

[!] Deep within the dungeons of some fortress, where it is cold and lonely and without food and water, and it is dark, does a Herald of Azdromoth think to himself. [!]

[!] To those who are not aware of Elijah's circumstances, he would just have gone suddenly missing, not responding to mail or the likes. [!]

 

[!] This piece is intentionally written with very little structure as it follows the thoughts that go through Elijah’s head, and as such, my own. [!]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

Elijah stared down at himself as the three eyes vanished. He heard the distant footsteps, which receded into being near-inaudible. And lastly, he heard a door of steel slam. 

 

Then. Silence, save for the noises that he made himself idly. He could see himself, and nothing more. The dull illumination that his brands provided was enough to look down upon his hands and chest. A deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. He began to flow off into a deep state of thought. He felt his legs vanish. His arms vanish - and he leaned against the dark, stone wall. His consciousness found itself turning to nothing, his psyche drowning itself in a thousand thoughts per second which lulled him to sleep.

 

He dreamed of the ocean. Of Sunholdt, where d’Arkents dressed him up in fine noble clothing, of gold and red - covered in the insignia of a dragon. Things weren’t so different, after all - it so seemed. He delved into the depths of that island, and found a temple of Order... X*nnic artistries upon the wall. A hand ran slowly over them, even in that dream world he held a grimace now that he understood the nature of such beings. His head slowly turned around to see who was with him, and he saw-

A deep rumble. - He jolted awake. This deep in the mountain, the rumbles were ever so more intense, waking him entirely from his rest upon those cold floors. A gasp, and his hands placed to his left and his right to brace himself.

 

His eyes flickered up to the ceiling, and as he got lost in that swirling abyss... he fell into a deep rest once more.

 

He could’ve sworn that he heard a voice in the night.

 

 

---

 

He awoke in a cold sweat, a gasp. 

 

Hungry, but - there was no food. 

Thirsty, but - there was no water.

 

His thoughts were scattered as they often were when one awoke, and so he stretched his legs, and then his arms, and then levied his fists against the cold-stone wall. It hurt terribly, and he could only manage to do it so many times before it hurt him beyond what he was willing to accept at this time.

 

Humility is what echoed through his head. It’s why he was down here, after all. He paced, and tried to find the answer. There must’ve been an answer. A string of words he could say to the An-Gho when he saw that drake next that would convince him that Elijah had learned his lesson. He practiced saying them aloud.

 

“I am nothing,”

“I am another speck of ash in an endless sea.”

“I am nothing without the world around me.”

 

But it never sounded right. It was as if he was trying to trick someone or something into believing he had learned. Like an act meant to fool both himself and his peers. 

 

No, he thought. The realization wouldn’t come yet. And so, he stood, and punched at the bricks on the wall, and scratched poems into them, and drawings - only by the dim light of his brands.

 

 

---

 

[!] Inscribed upon the walls in the dungeon he was in, glowing a soft orange. [!] 

 

“IN THE DEPTHS OF LOGIC. ONE TRIES TO LEARN EVERYTHING THAT THEY CAN. BUT AS THERE IS ASH AND FIRE, THERE IS WISDOM AND INTELLECT. SIMILAR IN CONCEPT, BUT NEVER THE SAME IN BURNING TRUTH.”

 

“I am just a foolish man who knows nothing of God. I am just a foolish man who knows nothing of Asioth. I am just a foolish man who knows nothing of Azdromoth.”

 

“...The Canonists and some other belief systems stare up to the highest good that there is, in the form of God, and make themselves alike to him, though accepting they will never become him, they will try anyhow...

 

While, other belief systems, Asioth included, finds more interest in looking around to the world. It is neutral. The world does not hate. The world does not love. It only is. And it is God. These faiths want to make themselves alike to God in the way of making themselves alike with the world - to recognize their part in it.”

 

“What is my part?”

 

[[THERE IS NO ME, IT SCREAMED]]

 

[!] Upon an opposite wall, once he was nearly a month in. Inscribed. [!] 

 

“PRIDE. A FOOL’S GAME.”

 

To feel pride, one must delude themselves into believing they have achieved or are achieving enough, which is antithetical to Asioth.

 

To feel pride, one must assume falsities. Assume that what they do is the best version of what can be done. It is to reject learning in its entirety by being unable to extract lessons from that which comes with being humble.

 

But pride is not just found in ego. When one thinks of Pride, they often find themselves imagining a great mage laughing in the face of God, believing they have nobody to answer to but themselves. While this is an example, it is heavily exaggerated.

 

The most outwardly humble of monks too can hold immense internal pride. In this case, it may be the belief that they have succeeded or are succeeding in their teachings, when the ultimate way to learn more is to never accept a successful teaching without its failure. With every breath, the monk has failed on his journey to Asioth. 

 

He does not reach any further or greater than his peers, and he must remember that they all reach from the same level. The goal is not to climb above his peers to reach heaven, it is to find heaven within oneself, and to find that the true meaning of divinity lies beneath rather than above.

 

One cannot find divinity until they are content with being absolutely nothing. Only when they are content with being absolutely nothing, will they rise to be something. Only when they realize themselves as a single piece of ash amongst trillions, will their fire burn the brightest.

 

I am unworthy of Asioth. I am unworthy of Ascension. I stand before GOD, and I will forever be unworthy, but I plead anyhow. I do not plead that I succeeded, or that I will succeed, no. I plead that I tried as hard as I could to be worthy, and I understand that it will never be enough.

 

In my successes, I tasted only that undivine, false feeling of pride. Every time my teacher spoke to me that I had succeeded in a trial, I had unknowingly failed, and yet worse: I was comfortable in my ignorance. 

 

I cannot grasp nothing. I cannot grasp everything. I cannot grasp anything. For it is not mine to grasp. I am now nothing. I swim amongst nothing. My brands have become swirls in the dark, melting into the world around me. 

 

There are no heights. There are only depths. Down here, that is evident.

 

But humility is not shrinking. It is not becoming less. It is to live within burning truth. The truth that one may excel at one thing, but the full recognition that they shall also fail at plenty other things. It is to be confident in the face of both failure and success equally, but to recognize failure heavily. 

 

However, to be confident, one must first have faith in reality, and understand that which they must know. A humble person is confident, and a confident person knows what they do know, and what they don’t, and is always trying to learn more.

 

Therefore, to be humble, one must be confident, and to be confident, one must be competent, and to be competent, one must understand that they are a fool who shall never be worthy.

 

...He had finished writing this, with some adjustments. He had it, he thought.

 

 

---

 

“By all accounts, you have learned nothing.”

 

It only struck him as the An-Gho parted away, and he dove for that food upon the ground, that this, too, he had misunderstood. 

 

This was not about emptying oneself of pride and ego. No. This was about emptying oneself entirely. He knew the words of the Sixth Lesson, of the man who held his head. But try as he might- he couldn’t understand. He tried to grasp it as he would’ve grasped the An-Gho’s other lessons. Another set of wisdom, it was as simple as understanding it, he thought- but this… required something further. Emptying oneself.

 

And so, did Elijah begin to lose himself once more. To question the very core of who he was. To empty the bucket of all lies he had known so that the truths could go untainted.

 

In the first week, he destroyed the foundations.

 

In the second week, he allowed what it held up to fall.

 

In the third week, he began to melt away the very concept of who he was. His childhood, while the memories remained, he washed what it taught him clean.

 

In the fourth week, he expanded amongst the dark until there was no more He, but only an It, taking up infinite space amongst this darkness, blending into it and becoming one with it. Elijah was killed, some-time ago. 

 

And then, it opened its eyes.

 

“So there is no power?” It asked the thing which was once Elijah.

 

“There is no power,” It answered in return.

 

“This thing has not found it.” announced the three-eyed creature. But as it left, the thing on the ground heard the words again. And again. This thing. 

 

This thing was a lie, it unknowingly echoed.

 

This thing was power, it echoed, spoke quietly amongst the darkness.

 

Power was a lie, it echoed. And it realized- but it could not dare speak the words, it had not the power to yell out after its master, and so it only wept for the pain, wept for the man who had died within these chambers.

 

Its vessel was weak.

 

Filthy.

 

A quiet sob against the dark was all that littered the walls now. 

 

It breathed, quietly, and in a rhythm – a way of calming its vessel. But in this breathing, did it begin to glow softly. It was, briefly, one with the world. And with this breathing, did it begin to give itself warmth. It hadn’t felt such in eons, but what else could give it warmth but the rest of itself?

 

…

…

…

 

A whisper amongst the darkness, from the remains of a dragon. Baleful in tone, it asked; “How does it feel?”

 

“It feels both the loneliest it ever has and the most connected.”

 

“Does it remember what the sky looks like?”

 

“It was ascribing meaning to a language it did not understand. - It remembers, but it will need to see it again to know…”

 

“What is power?” The ring pressed him. “I know that you know, but you’ll need to put it into words for it, when it returns.”

 

He laid there for some time. Six, he remembered. The Sixth Lesson, that is what this was about, though - eventually, it struck him. There were five others, and he knew them well. Not only that, but he only needed to go back one to learn.

 

“God is power. God is all of us. It is more, and what power does one part have?” - “There is power, but it is not it’s, and it is not Azdromoth’s, and it is not my mentor’s.” - “Only God has power.”

 

“God is the whole, the One, and it died, but it is with Fire, that which we seek."

 

His breath quickened, but kept that rhythm, and it stood. “It rages, but it does not rage against the chains that cover it. It simply rages.”

 

Deep within the heart of Tor’Urldar, one could almost hear it. A heartbeat. Until it almost became comforting. Something was lost, and nothing was found.

 

[Onnensr 1908]

Spoiler