Post by Amaranth on Aug 3, 2011 19:24:48 GMT -8
Nothing. Less even, a shadow of nothing. Within that shadow an echo of a whisper was embedded. Like gossamer upon the winds it drifted within the dark void of non-existence for aeons without measure. A requiem of a soul imprisoned in the desolate space beyond being, like a word beyond one's grasp or a sight just past the horizon.
Not even this ebon embrace of void could entirely extinguish the will to live from this ancient Soul. So it would dwell for ages without a name, unknowing, a dreamer without a dream waiting to awaken.
As if to further torture this lost shade, memories of a life not lived would crash against it like siege engines determined to raze the ruins of this lost dreamer to dust and ash.
These bright and Seelie memories stood out in the darkness like the summer sun lording it's golden rays over the dead of winter's night. The forgotten one might not have known who it was but it knew what is wasn't. These memories resonated with utter discord against the remnants of itself. As the centuries passed eventually it came to know these memories as Ambrose. And it's hate grew and grew forging a scaffolding with which to rebuild it's self.
Then it was over.
Like thin ice after a great thaw the facade that was Ambrose shattered and dissipated. Amaranth stood in his place. In stark contrast to the nothingness he had known Ranth soaked in the sights and sounds that surrounded him in an instance. He stood naked in a burning building holding a broken sword. As the flames darted even closer to him an enemy from days long past stood ready sword in hand preparing to finish him off. Drovor ap Balor had failed to kill him when they last met, he would not succeed now. Sensing the magics of wayfarer upon him he looked Drovor in the eye as the final blow came towards him.
'Looks like you failed again, Drover!'
As abruptly as he had emerged from the void he was gone from that inferno. Ranth stood in the doorway of a freehold, he must have been guided here from the memories of the life Ambrose had lived. It turned out Ambrose had been useful after all. A second Chrysalis so to speak. A dreadful grin came over his scared lips as he remembered the enemy that had visited his imprisonment upon him.
'I can wait'.