Do not fear what you are about to suffer - Nessa
Mar 30, 2022 22:40:55 GMT
Velania Kalugina, Andy D, and 1 more like this
Post by Nessa al-Kiram on Mar 30, 2022 22:40:55 GMT
I am finding doors in my mind that scare me.
In the Last Sundered War, which burst on a fragile speck of a world that once teemed with life, I saw Heaven open, and a white horse with a rider whose eyes were flames of fire, and on her head were many crowns, and she was clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and endless armies of countless spears rank upon merciless rank, arrayed in fine linen and gleaming armour, rode behind on proud white horses. Her sword of light struck down the nations, and her fire tore the Weave causing the cities to be wiped from existence.
And yet I’ve definitely never heard of the Last Sundered War, whatever that is. Why would I remember it?
These are gods, strange new parts of my soul start screaming. Do you know what you are dealing with? Gods are slow to anger but great in power. Their way is the whirlwind and the storm. They can dry up the rivers, wither the blooms, cause the mountains to quake, the hills to melt, the earth to heave. Their wrath is poured out like fire, and they break the world with a glance.
Ten thousand swords would shrivel in their merest gaze. What will the little warlocks do? Throw out an eldritch blast? Or wizards with their wishes and meteor strikes. Who do they think plucked those meteors from the heart of the stars? Who do they think made the reality they claim to bend?
It’s awful, that voice. Overblown and pompous and shrill and sometimes I worry I’m saying these things out loud when I’m buying the groceries. I don’t know what comes over me.
But you know what the worst part is? It feels powerful to think that way.
Sometimes I like it.
That can’t be good.
In the Last Sundered War, which burst on a fragile speck of a world that once teemed with life, I saw Heaven open, and a white horse with a rider whose eyes were flames of fire, and on her head were many crowns, and she was clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and endless armies of countless spears rank upon merciless rank, arrayed in fine linen and gleaming armour, rode behind on proud white horses. Her sword of light struck down the nations, and her fire tore the Weave causing the cities to be wiped from existence.
And yet I’ve definitely never heard of the Last Sundered War, whatever that is. Why would I remember it?
These are gods, strange new parts of my soul start screaming. Do you know what you are dealing with? Gods are slow to anger but great in power. Their way is the whirlwind and the storm. They can dry up the rivers, wither the blooms, cause the mountains to quake, the hills to melt, the earth to heave. Their wrath is poured out like fire, and they break the world with a glance.
Ten thousand swords would shrivel in their merest gaze. What will the little warlocks do? Throw out an eldritch blast? Or wizards with their wishes and meteor strikes. Who do they think plucked those meteors from the heart of the stars? Who do they think made the reality they claim to bend?
It’s awful, that voice. Overblown and pompous and shrill and sometimes I worry I’m saying these things out loud when I’m buying the groceries. I don’t know what comes over me.
But you know what the worst part is? It feels powerful to think that way.
Sometimes I like it.
That can’t be good.