Circles in the Dark - Part II


At midnight the dunes appeared endless, long curves of shadow folded into a deeper dark, like the frozen swell of some inky ocean.
Hectar plodded on, mechanically, one foot rising before the other.
The difficulty, he brooded, is not the pain in my calves, or the weight on my back. Fatigue is bearable. No, the trial is this endless monotony. It crushes the soul.
Above him a breathtaking span of stars twinkled their indifference. The effect was hypnotic, as if he were treading water in a black infinity, moving towards a bejewelled hemisphere which never drew any nearer.
The only distractions were his thoughts, and these were no less muddled than under yesterday's moon.
Isn't this what you wanted? Shacruna had asked. Are you not searching for meaning, for something greater than yourself?
But he had found only a growing list of questions, and no answers. His life had suddenly been thrown into a chaos far deeper than ever before.
Am I truly a Shaper? If so, then to what end should I turn my power…
Who are these hidden enemies who stalk us? Why do they pursue us, and who has commanded it?
And then there are the dream-visions. What to make of them? What do they hint at, and why am I all of a sudden so prone to them…
These questions had a fatal gravity; quite unlike any of his previous existential troubles: depression, purposelessness, wanderlust – already these were but memories, childlike, a stark contrast with the discovery of a mysterious Gift within, and a mortal threat without.
Step, step. Step, step.
He worked through his questions, probing where he could.
Shacruna suspects it’s the Chimera who chase us. If she’s right, there is little hope of escape. Their craft with disguises renders them all but invisible, and their hunts end only in death, their own if not that of their prey.
What troubles me more is that only someone with a tremendous amount of wealth – and thus power – is able to command their services. The Chimera are not political. They don’t set their own prey...

Step, step, step.
The attacks in Yptah were not the work of one assassin, but of dozens...perhaps all of them…
So, then: a conspiracy to eliminate the Shapers! It wouldn't be the first time one group of gifted people is persecuted to the advantage of some other group, or that a particular hereditary line was culled from the human strain...
But one question haunted Hectar deeper than any of the others: Does this murder plot cover all the Shapers, or – is it directed at a select few, perhaps only at those whose interests do not align with the conspirators’...
So many intolerable questions…
He came suddenly to a resolution.
I’m sick of the dark, and of the inside of my own head. These broodings bring no answers. This is the maelstrom I've been sucked into. For now I just have to survive it.
Shacruna remained silent, wrapped up in her cloak and deep thoughts of her own. She too was trying to puzzle through each of these tangled threads.
Hectar turned to her.
"Trading some chant," he spoke into the night, "will do us both good. Perhaps we can tease some understanding from this mess."

.:.

circles in the desert dark brooding moody clouds tree

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Radio Receiver

Image
All sense perception is illusion, all is filtered: the eyes and the ears are but simulacra of actuality. Our mental maps can't do it any other way. They obscure that impossible ocean of energy surging its truth throughout the fundamental fabric of the Beyond. So, basically, your five senses are lying to you. They're lying because they are giving you a partial truth. White lies. Limited, mothering you, protecting you from daddy's overwhelming awesomeness. But they have to, because we can't look straight into the sun for very long; our eyes are only jelly. Perhaps, then, when we delude our selves by choosing (whether knowingly or not) to see the world a certain way, that is why we then actually do start to see the world that way. Nothing changes; it's the same (objectively) except for all the differences (subjectively). Your belief system is a lot like a radio receiver, which you can tune to receive any of the available frequencies along its spectrum. You ca
Read more

Stepping into the Occult. Cue ghost noises.

Image
Perhaps the secrecy and the scare tactics shrouding the Occult are there for a reason – you need to be both curious and brave to walk out into the dark unknown, alone outside the comfort of the group cave. It's no place for the meek, not a path for the lily-livered, the path of cutting off capital to a Proper Noun. It's difficult to undermine the authority of the uppercase. But I do think it's true what our notorious sage once said, that the meek shall inherit the earth. The brave though, and the curious, they'll step beyond the realm of bone and dirt and worms. They'll encounter the Holy Ghost, and perhaps if they see it through to the other side, perhaps they shall inherit the universe . A world-wise man once said: "Yes, dude, but remember – curiosity also killed the cat." So, no, it's not a path for the meek; to challenge the status of those in the quo. It's a path of passing through specters. ... By the way, I bet you don&#
Read more

Tower

He starts to build a tower Half of dream and half desire While others live he's digging He so badly wants to be. He struggles to fuel the fire Finds the dreams burn up so fast But he labours on regardless Days slip by until at last. He's in love with what he's crafted Won't see this cage he's made is he Stays up till sunrise thinking Picks at meals alone and free. He is sad sometimes, frustrated No one ever taught him That his tower's to return to, Not to dwell in, endlessly. Still struggles to fuel the fire Till his dreams dry up at last But still he sits in silence Too proud to leave, to flee. Because he knows there's something to this, He just knows it, must be, So he labours on regardless Forging  must be, must be.
Read more