With the intro out of the way, this should make more sense. The tone of this one is far more dramatical, and philosophical, rather than action and awe.
"In the depths of his torment, I found that which never sleeps and is always in someone else's name.
For he who shall weep at the rains, a red dawn awaits.
A red moon, a red cloud, a red horse with a red mane;
Flowing at his feet, weakly, brightly, weakly, brightly-
Finally, lastly, the flame froze.
The end is the beginning, and the beginning is ending,
But here, where none shall remain,
Only the unwaking dawn glows."
I awaken to the madness of my own thoughts. Another fragment of a dream; perhaps once it may have been sane. Was it supposed to be a story? A poem? A conversation? It reminded me of something my Liege may have told me once. I was, without a doubt, losing my mind. It is only in these moments of wake that I find clarity and meaning in my mental arrangement. Yet, even so, though the feeling of clarity was there, I could not be sure if it's nature only appeared as clarity to me, and that I was still mad, or if I truly still held on to my sanity.
"Do you remember the Red Dawn, Ameo?" I heard the voice, for the first time in my entire existence, and immediately recognized it as the voice of Eclipse, my very own heart.
I think I really lost my sanity, even though the expected cloud of confusion was not present. I decided to ignore the voice-- as if that would magically make everything right. Yeah, ignore the voice in your head, you won't be crazy if you do that.
"There is no point in ignoring me if you acknowledge me." It spoke and paused, "Do you remember?"
I caved, "I don't know what you are talking about." Perhaps if I truly was insane, but not feeling like I was mad, then it was a good kind of insane, and not a bad one. But then again, the difference was only of a triumphant color- insane was still insane, wasn't it?
"Ameo, you confuse the voice in your dreams for something else. You are not insane. That is a memory." It said.
I looked towards Eclipse-- it was not in the physical realm. It never truly was, hence the name, Eclipse. It was the sun hidden behind an object. The light that never reached. The Blade that was Not. A paradox in and of itself. It was a dead thing, that was alive and cursed to never die. A sword that exists, and does not exist simultaneously. Come to think of it, I told Farad he was a prisoner of his own self. And yet here it is, Eclipse, my heart-- literally--, a prisoner of it's own self. Bound to this world by unnatural chains wrapped around my arms. My existence is tied to it's. So long as I live, it shall, and when it dies, I shall- but it cannot die, and so cannot I- it shall never live, for I never did.
"I was thinking about this voice. This one." I pointed at Eclipse.
"You think you are insane because you are talking to me? Your heart? Romanticism aside, have you never heard the phrase 'Listen to your heart'?" A mocking chuckle resonated in my head. But before I could make my displeasure known, it continued: "Have you never thought it strange that a Planar being, of Stellar class, could come to our world, bearing twenty five rings, and despite it's magnificent, omnipotent, and unimaginable power, allow a thief of one of those rings, to escape alive?"
I paused for a long moment at the question. It did seem strange-- how did Farad escape with the ring? "You are talking nonsense, Eclipse. I was there."
"Really? Then tell me, how did he do it?"
"Well, he took it... and left." I replied coolly.
"How? What did he do? What did he wear? What steps did he take?"
"That is a stupid question. I don't remember what he had on him. He just took it and left."
"Did he say anything? Do anything specific? Didn't the others try to stop him?"
"Well, yes, we did try to sto-- actually... wait... did we? I don't... remember." This realization cast me into an unfathomable pit of doubt. We should have tried to stop him. I am sure I, who still thought was the Hero of the story, would have tried to stop him. Death seemed certain-- disobey ASVS and you die, even then, having known my Liege for a mere minute, I knew this was certainty. So why can I not remember trying to stop Farad?
"Do you remember what you wore? Or what you said when you took the ring? And which one were you in order? The first? The second? The last?"
The broken gears in my head turned, trying to find the information; there were no specifics. I just had vague memories-- no, impressions-- of taking one of the rings and swearing my allegiance to ASVS. Like it was something I knew, and experienced-- but it lacked any details. Like a hollow feeling after waking up, knowing you had a dream, but not knowing what it was about.
"Would you look at that, The Shadow of the First, caught at a time when he is not the flawless and perfect Knight-- unable to remember the details of his most important and significant action in his entire miserable existence."
That title, the Shadow of the First-- it meant I was the highest ranking Knight in my Liege's employ. I was free to do whatever I wished; A free agent, so to speak. Never supervised, never questioned, always correct, always perfect. Eclipse's mocking was on point: He ridiculed me knowing fully well the meaning I would take from that. It is not me that is never supervised and never questioned-- I also never supervised, and never questioned anything. If I was the picture of perfection, then it was natural to assume, that the environment that created me and allowed me to be so, must've been as well. Or perhaps I was just too conceited to concern myself with my immediate surroundings, when I had such a great vastness to conquer and reward with my presence. When it finally clicked that something was off, I felt sick- I was a fool.
"Let's end with the pleasantries-- what are you getting at? Was my memory altered?"
"It was. But your Liege did not alter it. It is a side-effect of taking the Ring. You wander the world, delusional, maddened, getting used to it's power-- then you Ascend, and remember."
"Then why can I not remember? I ascended as well, obviously!"
"Because of the other thing that you can't remember, Ameo." It whispered, and the mocking chuckle returned. "Do you remember how you lost me? Poor old Eclipse, the Heart that tried to die, but could not- it's regrets, or whatever, forever chaining it to this poor heartless man."
"Of course I remember. I ascended and then..." My eyes narrowed-- I did not remember my ascension either. It was the same as when I took the ring. The impression was there, but the memory was not. What was going on?
"And then?" Eclipse asked.
"... I had a dream." I said, trying to dredge up the memories, however I could. I was saying whatever came to mind. "It was a dream... of a world of freedom... beauty. Yes! It was a fragment. Of a broken thing. I had that dream, and then I ascended. And you fled!"
Eclipse was silent for a moment; I thought it would mock me again, but it did not. "That dream had a name, Ameo. That name was: Mia."
As I heard the name, I could feel the empty hole in my chest pulse with a phantom pain. It was phantom, yet so real that I fell to my knees, clutching at my chest.
"I did not flee, fool. It is not regret that binds me here, or some stupid curse. It is hatred. Vengeance." The chain links on my arms began to crack and twist. "For a hundred years I watched you pursue your pitiful attempt at 'atonement', and you never even caught a glimpse of what wrong you have done. What we have done."
The chains whine so powerfully, the soundscape of the world simply ceases to exist. I am enveloped in a blackness-- a nothingness deeper than the ashes of the Flames of the Reckoning.
"That thing you call a 'fragment of a world' is a world you destroyed yourself-- and her name was Mia. You are so quick to call others a murderer and abomination-- but we are the real monster here. Remember the Red Dawn, you coward. No one altered your memories. It is only your feeble mind that hides the truth from you. See it. Feel it. Embrace it."
The chains snap, and I become the flame of a black pyre as my Gift flows unrestricted into the ether, so powerful it momentarily melts the gap between the primal plane and my Gift Origin: The plane of Shadow. The blackness envelops me, and I falter into it.
A red sky yawns overhead- with red clouds, and a red moon. Upon a red horse with a red mane, I cross the lands, seeking deliriously for the key that will unlock me. For that which shall bring salvation instead of ruin, to the already ruined world. The Flames of the Reckoning- my objective of elimination; I shall be a martyr. No, I shall be the only martyr. I shall be the one to commit this life towards ending this cataclysm, and I do not do this for myself-- I do this for her: Mia. My love. My heart. My soul. My dream in the flesh, true and alive-- beautiful and wholly deserving of someone better than I, and most importantly, deserving of a peaceful life, not spent in terror. What she saw in me I can only summarize using her own words: "You are the kindest man on this world. Your hands and embrace is warm enough to melt my fears away, and nurture a love I could never describe in words."
She is sat behind me on the horse, half-asleep, her hands wound across my chest, as we advance forwards into the night illuminated by the distant flames that glow red-- even though their color is black-- and more importantly, away from them. What my life would've been without her, I dare not imagine. Before I thought of myself as a hero, I was anything but. A ruffian, scum, trash- I was always ready and willing to provoke those stronger than me, only to crush them, as well as to prove my superiority to those who were weaker. I found joy in breaking that which should never be allowed to fall-- and yet Mia always found ways to mend that which seemed beyond saving. Including myself.
Those years have been hard on me. When the Flames of the Reckoning first appeared, it came from a Broken Star that fell near our Town, and not even a week later, the Flames took away our homes and futures. We trekked day and night, hungry, cold, afraid and lost, to reach our salvation, relentlessly pursued by what seemed like Fate itself. So many of my friends died during this exodus. From disease, fever, lack of desire to live. We thought we finally caught a break when we reached the Ports, and took a ship across the Ocean. Only to learn that the fire burned across water as well. It was chasing us. Relentlessly. As if it was following us. Six months-- that is how long we had before the fires would reach us again.
Six months spent living in slums, with people as unfortunate as us, and just as aggressive. They would come at night, to steal our food, to rape our women, to murder us for their own enjoyment. Sometimes it was the guards, sometimes it was the soldiers-- sometimes it was people from other places-- displaced like we were. I met them several times-- I would fight them back, several times. I would steal their food, several times. It was live or die in this world. But Mia, she never lost her humanity. She would go around, sharing my spoils with the hungry children and unfortunate women. Always shining a bright light of hope into the deepest places. She would stay my hand when I wanted to lash out against the injustice committed against us. She would say: "They are not our enemies. We are our own. Only when your sword stays sheathed, will this cycle eventually end." And I believed her, closing my eyes to the atrocities that never did end.
Mia never wondered about where I found the ring that was on my finger. At that time, I did not wonder about it either. I felt like it was always there, but if someone were to ask me where I got it, I could not tell them specifically. I would probably just claim 'It was always there.' As the six months were about to pass, I could feel a heavy charge in the air. Something was coming, something important, and at the time, I thought it was the Flames of the Reckoning. Even then, we could see them approach from the Ocean, and then more than ever, I wanted to do something about it. I felt like I could, completely oblivious of my previously failed attempt.
That night, I sneaked out of the slums and towards the Pier, sword in hand, ready to battle the Flames. The Legend went that whoever can slice the flames, and endure their heat, can control them and extinguish them. It may have been a foolish rumor that became a myth, but I did not know any better. The flames were a bit over a kilometer away, and as I made my way towards the boats, a figure wrapped in a black cloak waited for me.
As I looked upon her face, I saw that her eyes had been a black emptiness, and her mouth was a conduit of black fire, like the Flames of the Reckoning. She spoke in a haunting voice, and I could not understand the language she spoke-- but in her I recognized a diabolical evil and my sworn enemy-- the Avatar of the Flames of the Reckoning themselves.
We must have battled for hours. When Dawn finally rose, it was red and cloudless. My enemy lay impaled on my sword, through the heart, black bile and blood pouring from her wounds-- and from mine, less lethal wounds, crisp crimson poured- the black and red mixed and pooled at my feet, and a sweet fragrance tickled my nostrils. In the distance, the black flames were frozen, as if suspended in time. I close my eyes to enjoy the strangely familiar scent.
A fleeting warmness envelops my hands, and trickles of water glide along them. As I wondered if it began to rain, I opened my eyes, and found myself in a Nightmare. Only to realize, that I woke from a Nightmare, into a world that was far more twisted. She held my hands, which were clasped around my sword. Her tears fell onto my hands, even though she was smiling so brightly. Rivers of blood flew along the sword, and onto my wrists, all the way down to my elbows. My form was triumphant, as if I defeated a great evil, yet it was the love of my life, and my only reason for existing, that was impaled at the other end of my sword. Though she was wordless, and fading fast- in her smile I saw forgiveness. In her gesture to put her hands on mine, I saw the meaning of her trying to stay my hand. As if telling me to put away my sword, and with it the potential evil that exists not just in myself, but in all of humanity. 'Ignore it, and it will go away'. But Mia, like madness, evil cannot go away just by ignoring it's existence. My naive, Mia... how could this happen. Even so, she did not find fault in me. With her last flicker of strength, she pushed towards me, driving the sword up into her chest all the way to the hilt, so she could embrace me one final time, before the light in her eyes finally fades.
I ascend. A torrent of black flames pours out from me destroying the Port City, and in this moment of ascension I immediately understand the nature of my dream, and the demonic creature in it that I fought. It was the will of ASVS. His guiding hand to ascend me, to materialize him. My fury melts the approaching Flames of the Reckoning, obliterating them completely-- though the meaning was lost. I already destroyed the city, stalling the Flames was not necessary. Neither was that the intent. I was going mad with rage-- with torment. With loss. How could I have done this? The question echoed in my mind. In the last moments of clarity, I uttered a silent vow of vengeance and with the words my heart broke-- fell apart, like a tower made of cards. I knew not whether I was becoming so mad with rage that I would remember my vow, so I created chains of torment to bind me, and forever remind me of my one objective in this world. But Mia's desire for me to never seek violence, even for vengeance, created a division in me. If I did not honor her wish... then I would commit a sin graver than slaying her. I would betray even her memory. This is how Eclipse came into existence. The Zugzwang broke me--
But now, a hundred years later, and the world at the end of it's lifespan... what else was there to do? There was barely anyone, if anyone at all, left to save. It was not consideration or 'staying one's hand' that taught the remaining few to abandon the pursuit of evil. It was the simple fact that such pursuit was pointless- Evil loses it's meaning when the world is so cruel as to end the existence of the universe itself with such ... coldness.
Maybe that is why I can finally do what I must do. If there is no more 'Evil', then there is no point in my staying my hand.
That is right, ASVS. If everything in this world must end, then so shall you. I am coming. Like the Red Dawn.
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Topic: Story Time: Atonement (Read 881 times)