Jordanensis

The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.

The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.

Fate is not ours to defy, only to fulfill. You're chosen as am I, brother. As is the unborn, ordained by the infinite. Perhaps you'll understand one day. In death, I shall find a new purpose. And your purpose, twisted and malevolent as you are, will light the way...

How could this be a story of a man with my name? He bears the same scars. Shares in the same desires. Even finds the same tablet. Can it be called a history if it's written by a being that sees the future as readily as the past?

The faces of infinity are etched in stone, stacked in endless columns. Careful now. The precarious weight of such knowledge could crush an unwise man if he were to puck a tablet in haste...

I stood before you dear brother, watching in horror as your lips parted for that poisoned chalice. I followed a path once tread by those who would become Sesters and Brethers, watching the past and present converge. You did not know I was there. I looked on from another place, waiting to be born...

I'm unrecognizable. A phantom or perhaps a ghost, haunting this empty household. But I am not unworthy of pity. Not yet, at least. A merchant dared to speak to me. He was a ous fellow, but a kindred soul I suppose. He mention lony of sorts, where my misfortune would be cured. He did not name its price

I hid my disfigurement beneath my cowl and slipped away. I was delirious when I reached the Seat of Infinity. Did I dream up this kind soul among the cherubs and the faceless masters? She welcomed me without flinching and offered nourishment...

 The Pupil slid the ritual knife into his wrist. He scraped flesh from bone, flaying himself. A low moan escaped his lips, as anguish and pleasure intermingled freely. The Sages accepted this offering, tossing his bloody gift into the flames. It was madness, yes, but his sacrifice was beautiful. Only the Revered could inspire a man to self-inflict such suffering...

As smoke choked my vision and tears welled in my eyes, the world itself burned white hot, but beneath it all, there was nothing. No monsters, no gods, only oblivion. The consecrated fires revealed cinders and shadows, yet I strained to see more. Surely, these Sages offered more than the assurances of annihilation?