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Edited by jhermannITJ:
12/1/2025 11:52:10 PM
1
Master....
(1)
[i][b]"To Tower comes a war in red; an orphan sounds the empire's call. Mortal angels mourn the dead while lightless light wraps night in pall."[/b][/i]
- Brother Vance Verse 2
[b]4: Moths to Flame Part I[/b]
[i]"Cinders spit, washing faint light over Osiris's lone face. The woods behind him formlessly melt into midnight nothing. Sagira moves across his shoulders. Distant serenity. She is a small diamond. Instilled isolation. A playful flitter blinking among thermal plume. Pensive focus sloughs the physical.
[u][b]He is alone in the void.[/b][/u]
Intrusions no more.
There is a point in the depth.
It cannot be directly viewed.
Delve. Dive. Deeper.
"The fire is going out."
Cloying worldly noise rushes back.
"Hm?"
"Aren't you cold?"
"I wasn't." Osiris rubs his brow and stirs the fire. "Thank you, Sagira."
"It's not going to get any clearer just because you want it to, Osiris. You need time."
Osiris clenches his jaw. He feels himself standing in wide shallows, gaping at an unrecognizable profundity. "Why did you choose me?" Osiris's voice is hollow. He flattens a palm for Sagira to perch.
"You have a spark." Her voice is warm air. The fire pops.
"A spark?" Frustration lines his face. "This world is dying. Over and over again."
"So were you; I dragged you back." Sagira allows Osiris's hand to cradle her shell. "I raised you until you could stand on your own. You'll do the same for them, in your own way."
Her words linger in his ears with sweetness.
"I don't have your patience, Sagira."
He takes in a slow breath and lets it out.
"Someone's coming." Her voice sharp.
"Conceal me." His serene.
Sagira dissipates as Osiris closes his palm. He dims".[/i]
Continue to (2)....
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5 RepliesEdited by jhermannITJ: 12/2/2025 12:11:18 AM(2) Continued from (1)... [b]12: Margins Part I[/b] [i]"Osiris sits in the small stone garden beneath the Traveler; his attempts at communion unsuccessful. He had seen the Speaker stand here for hours. Ikora had begrudgingly agreed to appear in his place at the Remembrance. Her words were stern, but deep down, she knows victories have lulled in complacency. There is an imminent, daunting pressure. A noose awaiting a misstep. A delicate game. Braziers cast shadows; distracting shades flickering across his eyes, breaking his concentration. Osiris breathes. The stone gardens are endless space. The skyline is razed horizon. Breathe. [u][b]He is alone in the void.[/b][/u] Intrusions no more. There is a point in the depth. It cannot be directly viewed. Delve. Dive. Deeper. Still, only a point in the aphotic depth. The nothing. Expansive. Osiris sinks to gain new perspective. The point remains. It is so faint. Distant. Though he knows he can see the Light. His reach stretched thin. Clarity, in the space between his hand and the point. The osseous-white point. Dim now. The omnipresence was. Hungry acknowledgement. Vast. Himself against the enormity; an endless unfurling midnight. And a lone point".[/i] [b]13: Margins Part II[/b] [i]""I am pleased to see you here. May I sit?" he spoke. Cloying noise. The stone garden is present. He is present. The Traveler, a monarch against bleak crepuscular ink. "You may." Osiris stands. "Stay." Osiris halts. He turns toward the Speaker; the Light of the Traveler washes against the bone-white hue of his mask. "Is something needed?" "There is so much activity in the City. I feel it has been too long since we last spoke." Osiris hangs silent. He looks to the Traveler. There is a daunting pressure. "What troubles you?" The Speaker steps toward Osiris. Osiris inhales sharply. "You have read my reports?" "Of course." The Speaker loosens his posture. "I value your council." "We were so close. A moment in the wrong place." Osiris looks to the Speaker. The Speaker nods. "Yes. But the Light guided your path." A noose awaiting a misstep. "I did not see the Traveler on the Six Fronts." The Traveler dwarfs Osiris. "But you did, my son. It was in the fire that saved your brothers and sisters. It was in the Arc bolts that ripped through their armies. The violet shields that held the line—" [u][b]"Do not romanticize this burden. We wield a weapon."[/b][/u] The Speaker shakes his head. "The Light wields you, Osiris. You are what you make of it. A glorious extension of its majesty, in many directions." Osiris paces at cadence with his words. "Then it would do well to speak clearly. To better direct me." The Speaker shäkés his head. "Without will? Then it would be no better than the Darkness." "I am asking only for guidance; it is a delicate game we are playing." Osiris's voice, distressed. Regal again, the Speaker motions to the stone garden. "Will you sit with me?""[/i] Continued in (3)....
