*
Silence. Pure, unchallenged silence. It wraps around me, like a cloak of quietude. I take comfort in it. Hide in it. It protects me, from the terrible world outside. In the darkness, where everything is calm, and nothing ever changes, the silence reigns. I have spent enough time here to know that this is all a dream. The darkness, the sky of spheres, the things that I see... none of them are real. But what is life, if not the prolonged dream of the dying.
My father once said that some men dream with their eyes open, and that they were to be pitied. For those men, those pitiful men who let their dreams and their realities merge, there was no salvation. Those hopeless men walked through life with half-lidded eyes, lying to themselves about everything. Those that were poor, twisted reality until they were richer than kings. Those that were liars and thieves, believed with all their might that the one's they stole from and tricked deserved to be deceived and robbed. Those that were cruel and violent, convinced themselves that those they hurt and abused would thank them for making them stronger. Have I become one of those men? Have I begun to dream with my eyes open?
Was it always like this, even when I was younger?
No.
Even though I cannot remember them, the dreams I had as a child were never this vivid... this real. Then, something within me must have changed, something that let me see this hidden world of dreams. My awakening? Meeting Kingston? Being chosen by Terra?
No. I know who is responsible for all of this.
Alza.
Ever since I met her, things have been different. My dreams have been stranger, the beast has been stronger, and my thoughts have been straggled. Even now, in the one time when I am supposed to be completely alone, she invades.
“It sickens me, it befouls me, it hurts me.” The voice is not mine, yet it echoes in the darkness, shattering the peaceful silence.
“I can feel the taint, the corruption, the festering wound. It gives us light, but the light burns away hope. It gives us visions of what is to come, but twists what we see. It traps the corruption, but allows it to condense, until it shatters, releasing the miasma once more.”
The voice is closer now, it's anger unmistakeable. It speaks of the ç'aether as if it were a living entity, one that seeks our destruction. From the darkness of the void, I look to the spheres above. The voice had come from one of them, though their endless multitudes hide its origin well. This night, unlike the countless others, is different.
The multi-coloured orbs, which usually glitter in the darkness like stars in the sky have become twisted and disfigured mockeries of their former brilliance. They hang in the light-less sky, like victims of the hangman's noose. Blacks, reds, and putrid yellows mar their contorting surfaces.
“The corruption is everywhere, it erodes me, it sickens me, it kills me!” One of the corrupted spheres detaches from the masses, it's shell completely black, yet still visible in the void. From its surface, oily bubbles rise and burst, like the surface of a vat of boiling tar. I can't move. It comes closer. I am helpless.
“It hunts us, even here. Even in our dreams, even in this place, it breaks us. What can we do? We must not let it find us. We are weak here, and it is strong. We cannot dream. We cannot sleep. We cannot escape it, not now, not ever.”
The tone of the voice has changed. It was angry at first, but fear resonates throughout its words. Fear of the miasma. Fear of the ç'aether. Silently, the midnight black orb approaches. I am certain now that the voice came from within. I must know why it is so afraid.
Without resistance, I allow the dark sphere to swallow me. Silence. In here, in this pitch-black place, silence rules unopposed. Once more, it brings me comfort. It rejuvenates my weary spirit. It heals my broken heart.
“Even in here, where we should be safe... we are not. These walls of darkness will not hold for long. Before they collapse, you must leave this place.” The speaker of the voice stands in the centre of the sphere. Perhaps I had known from the beginning. Perhaps I had known all along. The Beast. Lanista. My Violence. The Blue-eyed wolf. It goes by many names, but they all refer to the thing standing before me. Never before have I seen it so frail... so weak. Even now, it shies away from my glare. It is afraid. I am afraid. The sooner I get out of this place... the faster I can get away from the ç'aether... the better...
Awakening Page 187