In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

  * * * * *

  For Gerin, there was only darkness existent in a storm. A blanket of black fog that was accented with brief flashes of white streaks, which the General believed to be lightning--far, far in front of him.

  To his left, his right, above and below him only that ebony, murky haze. Had it not been for the sporadic flashes, Gerin believed he might have been floating in a void. For what seemed like ever he remained unmoving, simply trying to get a bearing on where he was, and how he got here.

  Yet when he tried, his feet hit something solid, and it sent tremors all across his leg, as it would be if he were pressing against solid ground. He stepped again, and a third time, his movements seemed muddled, as though he was pushing his way through quicksand. His entire body was constricted, and each stride was agonizingly long.

  He wasn't even sure why he was moving, but he did none the less, pushing on to the only thing he could see in the bleak: The storm.

  As he drew closer, he found it wasn't lightning at all, but strange, thin white vapors that flickered back and forth. When they turned, they grew so thin they were barely visible. Then they almost breathed, and expanded, only to shimmer into nothingness again.

  They seemed miles away still, and at his rate, he wouldn't reach them for hours, but he toiled onward, searching deeper and deeper within himself for the strength to take the next step, and finish it.

  Just when he was almost spent, he neared one, quivering directly in front of his face, dashing back and forth like a blade of grass in the crossfire of two windstorms. Though he couldn't see anything, including himself, he felt his arm raise as he foolishly reached out for it. It chased away, the same as a scared butterfly would, long before he touched it—moving to the opposite side.

  Renewed, he pursued it. Sharp pins of pain traced along his thigh, but he cast them out. Unknowing, and inexplicably he was drawn to this vapor, and would chase it down no matter what it cost him. Again, he drew close and tried to take it in his grasp, but it pulled away even faster than before. Once it had escaped, it went from its typical shape—the thin, horizontal line—curled around twice then turned itself vertical, flattened and expanded into an oval.

  For a moment it hung there, twitching wildly and took another breath. In that instant, an image was cast—that of Gerin, mouthless and soulless, leading a large troop of soldiers to battle creatures of massive size, and oily green skin.

  The scene felt familiar, vaguely, but he didn't know why.

  Gerin was so enamored by it, he didn't notice another mist expanding next to him in the same manner as the first.

  From it, he was granted another vision. This one of a completely different life, that showing a mass of people staring at he and Shayanne standing before an altar, holding each other's hands.

  To Gerin, this seemed just as real as the other, and was pulled to the surface deep within his memory.

  Confusion struck him again, and he was ripped in two, just as he had been before he lay down. Two completely different lives, but both he believed he had lived, yet neither he could make sense of.

  In desperation to find out, he struggled through the sludge, chasing and casting his vision into any vapor he could find. One pulled up to show him broken and defeated by a man with a stone jaw, and emerald green eyes.

  "Grah..."

  He couldn't quite place it, and before he mind revealed any more, another apparition teased him, playing for him a scene where he paid a bag of gold to a farmer, and him handing over the deed to his ranch.

  One vapor showed him slaughtering soldiers, another cattle.

  "Who... am...I." He whispered, pressing his palms almost violently into his eyes, trying to rub out the searing pain and numbing confusion he was beginning to feel.

  Vapors, now dozens of them, flitted and expanded before him, memories of each life demonstrated in their reflection. One of a warrior, one of a peaceful farmer. And he was both, but he could not comprehend how. Each seemed so real, but were such a grand distance apart from each other he could not have done both.

  It grated on him, twisted his mind in ways he never thought possible, and a very tight knot began to wind even more in his stomach. He was exhausted now, but kept chasing and being thwarted by each memory, just out of reach. Perhaps if he could grab one, he would know which was true and which false but they were too fast. Too skittish. He had almost given up, almost collapsed.

  His eyes grew heavy, his mouth dry. Though he had stopped walking, his body refused to quit moving. It swayed and shook, and his arms waived hypnotically at his side as he battled to keep his balance. He had no energy left...no fight...

  He simply wanted to sleep, even though he was already in a dream.

  He could just close his eyes. Rest for a moment, then fight on.

  And he had nearly done so. His eyelids had almost completely latched shut when he heard it.

  "He he he he..."

  A giggle. That of a girl. "Here?" He wondered. "What would a child be doing here?" His eyes ripped open to find the answer, and he caught sight of one purple mist breaking up from the ground. Long and thin, only about two feet high, both its ends sharpened like spikes. It either shoved the others away, or scared them off. Both options seemed feasible, as each vapor slithered away, so far Gerin could no longer see them.

  It hung there, waving back and forth, almost in a motion to draw him near. This one was different, Gerin believed. The others ran from him, this one invited him. He followed it, went to it, and the closer he got to it the more it leaned into him.

  Gerin reached up, extended towards it, despite a lingering annoyance—a needle in his brain—that felt like fear.

  Then, he touched it. He knew it, because his finger went numb, then his entire arm. It latched onto his now cold fingers, wrapped around his arm and began crawling up him, like a starved snake. Once the tip touched his shoulder, it made a sharp turn, then coiled around his neck while the other end hovered against his ear.

  Long moments past, and several times it squeezed so bad he worried it may constrict him to death. But he didn't react, he couldn't. His earlier twinge of fear was now full blown terror, and it left him paralyzed.

  Yet it did not choke him—not completely. It pulsed, and as soon as he felt himself losing air, it relaxed, and let the blood flow to his brain once more. Once he was allowed a clear head, it began again. He sat in silence for a long time—too scared to move, too weak to fight.

  Again, he heard it, as the mist drew closer to his ear: A faint, melodic giggle of a young girl.

  Gerin twitched, but held, despite feeling his consciousness slipping again. "Did...did someone laugh?"

  Again, he heard it, followed by a sickening, haunting monotone voice "We... Did."

  "Who...who are you?"

  "We...Are...Chaos."

  Gerin felt it release, bring him peace, then squeeze again, harder. It was so cold now, it bit at his skin. "What do you want?" They were words he could barely utter.

  "We want you...to remember who you are. Want you... to be free." It gasped, and released. "We want you...to take Fate."

  The mist squeezed so hard now, it bruised his skin, and continued, until it seeped through his pores. The frost coursed through his blood, up his neck and into his mind. Gerin was then overwhelmed by all the memories he had been chasing. Real memories filled his head, all of them the most vicious and bloody he'd encountered. So violent, they cast him out.

  The General awoke.

  "This... isn't real." He whispered, no longer drawn into the lies this world had created for him. His mind was clear, his real life the only memories in his head.

  A slender hand slid across his chest as she rolled over to face him. "Darling... what is it? Another nightmare?"

  For a heartbeat, Gerin looked at the contact, then slid his fingers under it to scrape it off. "No... this is the nightmare." he stated, inching his body away from her, a skeptical look in his eye.

  At first, Shayanne looked confused, almost hu
rt. "My love, please..." She pleaded, but Gerin pulled even further.

  "Stop. This is not real!"

  In an instant, her emotions changed from concerned, to playful then almost taunting. Her body leaned up, creeping to the edge of the bed. "You're right...it is not." She smirked, soft—barely—tilting her head, still with a nefarious look in her gaze. "But it could be..." She crept even closer. "You could stay, live here forever in peace with me."

  "In a lie."

  "Who is to say what a lie is? Has your King not lied to you in order to lead you down the path he chose? Yes, this is a deception, it's fabricated but unlike the world out there, you can make this whatever you dream of, I can be whatever you dream..."

  "But it's all still a dream. And with that, could never be content. I was at least that in the world outside."

  "Were you really?" Shayanne stood completely and took a step, but with every one that led her forward, he made one back. "Then why are you so tempted by this, why was it so easy to sway and trap you—at least for a time—within it? You can lie to a lot of people, Gerin, but not to me. I can see it in your eyes. Within those blank, empty orbs bleed the truth. What you really desire, and it is not anything you have now." She whispered, taking on a mischievous glare, then flicked her hands up, fanned out her fingers, where she waved them over her face. When the view was clear, Shayanne's image had changed and Gerin was now looking at Merial, or at least what appeared to be her. "Pretty... is she not? You saw her first in Tarnel. Wondered who she was, even thought about her from time to time, haven't you? I could be her, only for you."

  "Stop this!"

  "No? Not what you want? Perhaps this then." Her hands danced a second time, and behind the fluttering fingers was an illusion of Elryia, stopping Gerin dead still. "I'm getting close, aren't I?" Her vision shimmered across him. "It's almost what you dream, but not yet." Her palm raised a final time, but instead went across his own features.

  He remained hypnotized by the blue eyes and striking depiction, yet when she reached up to him and the line was broken, he snapped out of the trance, but it was already too late. "What... what did you do to me?"

  Shayanne directed a nod over his shoulder. "I gave you everything you've ever dreamed of. See for yourself."

  The General turned to the mirror and a snarl seared his face. The reflection that stared at him was the man that only recently entered into his life, but had made the most vile of an impact: Grahamas. Gerin came to realize though it looked like the Champion, it was the General underneath. "Why would you believe this to be what I want? I despise him!"

  Shayanne's arm crossed along his chest, head leaning over his shoulder, dazzling blue eyes shining. "Is it truly hate that you feel... or envy?" She leaned closer now, only whispering. "Yes, I know he defeated you, and the vengeance is what inspires you to continue your journey, but deep down there is a respect for him...an understanding. You only despise him so because you want what he has. The honor, the loyalty, the bond he has with his friends and the woman he loves." Shayanne gripped his shoulders turning him to look directly in his eyes. "I've seen your soul, Gerin. I know who you truly are. You didn't hate the world, it hated you. It misunderstood you. And a tyrant king took advantage of that, used it to make you do terrible things when all you ever wanted was to be happy. You can be." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and the General almost gave in again. This time he was not led into the temptation by deceit, but his own heart. "I will make you happy. I'll be everything you want." Her original image resurfaced, and dark blonde curls tumbled over his shoulder.

  For an instant, one that could not even be measured, he held her. But it was not to last, and his hands fell to her waist to put distance between themselves. "You're...an...illusion." He bit, turning on her, walking out. He plowed through the first door, then headed to the second, trying his best not to look back, fearing the moment of clarity he was having would fade away if too much time passed.

  Gerin believed once he walked out, he would return to the farm and continue on from there, but a blaring light had stung his eyes when he opened the second door. He could not see, but in fearing another entrapment, disregarded his own safety and stepped through. No harm was brought, he only found himself back within the mist.

  Gerin had past his first trial.

  Before he advanced another step, not even allowing a breath, he raised his hands and traced them across his face, feeling the lips and the mouth that remained. The farm had disappeared, Shayanne was gone, but still this illusion held, for reasons he did not know. "So torturous this place is..." He whispered, finding the courage to finally start moving. Below his feet, now instead of the black obsidian he encountered prior was a thin, white walkway. It continued on far in front of him, twisted and turned off into the distance.

  It was as direct as possible, without being vocalized that this was the way he should travel. Wisping souls passed in front of his face, twisting thin clouds that hovered before him momentarily then chased off twice as fast as they came. Faint glowing orbs flickered in the background, first one, then another, then far too many for him to count. Some circled around him, others raced away the moment they got close. The General had walked for what seemed to be half an hour among them, following the trail that lay before. On a random step, the moment the sole of his boot made contact, the path flickered, then all-together faded—stopping his current trek and forcing him to look around.

  "Very impressive, General. You have done something many have not by passing your first trial."

  Gerin heard a voice from behind, one oddly familiar, even in this place. When he turned to see Shayanne again, he was not entirely surprised. "Another illusion..." He muttered, half tempted to face back and leave her behind.

  "I'm far more than an illusion, good sir." She said with a smile and quick wink, sashaying her way to him, almost idly.

  "Then, pray-tell, what are you?"

  "It's...complicated. I suppose you could call me a soul, but a life must exist and extinguish before one can be created. So I am more than that." She stated, standing before him. "Regardless, it's trivial what my role played before this. Now, simply consider me your guide."

  "Guide for what?"

  "For leading you to Fate."

  "Fate?"

  She grinned, but her face marked a small amount of pity. "You did not even think to ask why you came here, did you? The weapon you seek, that is her name—Stolen Fate. A blade more powerful than any the world has ever seen. One that can create or topple Kingdoms, one that no force—human or magick—can stand against. It's why your King seeks it so desperately, and it is why he sent you."

  "Tell me more of this weapon..."

  "Patience, darling. You will learn all you need to know when you find her." Gerin held as she approached, but did not entirely trust her. His hand snapped back to rip his Scimitar free, an attempt to hold her at bay, only to find it was no longer there. Shayanne turned her eyes towards his fleeting arm, then the confused expression on his face. "I apologize. Weapons are forbidden here, so yours were purged the moment you stepped through."

  Gerin instinctively searched again, thinking it one of her tricks. "I had them on the hill...before I entered the farm."

  "An illusion. Existing only to inspire the courage to enter further in, and ultimately to face what you fear most."

  "And what is that?"

  "Yourself. The fear that you are nothing but a soldier, bound by a destiny I think you may care little for." She smiled, placed a gentle hand on his arm, easing it back to rest at his side. "Your journey is a long one, and it's only just begun. But you've taken the hardest step—the first. You passed, allowing you further entry and the right to be guided by one within Sayassa."

  "But I chose the same life I had been living. I chose to walk away."

  Her fingers squeezed his bicep. "Correct. You chose. No one else. Not your King, not your pride. You did what most are unable to do, and that is to lead yourself. That showed courage, that is w
hat freed you. And when you leave here, I truly hope you remember that life is your choice, and no one else’s." The look on Gerin's face expressed that he understood. "Though it was an illusion, I meant every word. There's a light in you, Gerin. You may not choose to believe it, and you may even try to destroy it, but you need to create your own path in..." Shayanne halted suddenly, taking her eyes from him and turning them to look over her own shoulder, as though she was listening to something he could not hear. Eventually she nodded. "Come." She ordered, pulling on the arm she still held. "We must begin your second trial."

  "You told me patience only moments ago... why the sudden hurry?"

  "Because you are not the only one within Sayassa to seek Fate, and the other draws near."