8 Arash - Sound of Silence

Waves of exhaustion washed over him as he drifted into a deep trance. Arash floated on top of a formless sea, still like death itself.

Silver ribbons of consciousness congealed out of thin air, gradually taking the shape of the light rune. At first, they were weak and ephemeral, but with each passing moment. New strands of silver ribbons accumulated together to form the rune. It shone with a dim light, possessing solid mass.

Suddenly, the rune started to multiply: one became two, two became four, until nearly sixteen runes floated around him. Sentient little beings, moving in small circles, vibrating with emotions.

One of the runes escaped from its merry group of friends and disappeared into Arash's forehead. The sea below him trembled to life, small waves rippling out in every direction. Soon, every single rune followed its lead, merging with him one by one. When the last rune touched his forehead, he startled awake, frantically covering his ears.

It was quiet; the mana deposits still hummed to a low droning sound, but this time it didn't cause him pain. He stared at the ground, confusion plastered on his face while fear still lingered in his skittish eyes.

"Why isn't it hurting now?" He asked himself. "Is it the glowing?" He was about to look, but then the mere thought of the dreadful pain changed his mind. He stared at the ground below, gazing at the shifting lights on the ground. He let out an exasperated sigh.

Suddenly his eyes popped open in realization as the images of the runes flashed before his eyes. He vaguely remembered the merry little fellows, dancing around him.

Struck with a sudden urge to visualize the Light rune, he restlessly shifted but the pain was still raw in his memory and the damn stones still hummed around him. It made it hard for him to concentrate.

He trembled at just the thought of it, tried to keep his mind off it, but staring at the ground wasn't exactly the most entertaining thing to do. "How long would I have to stay like this?" His back had started to ache.

"I could close my eyes"

"What if it isn't the light?"

"Then why am I still fine? It's definitely that weird light."

In the end, fear won over as he decided to lay prone, slightly shifting for comfort. Laying on the cold hard ground soon took its toll on him, his body cramped all over the place, while his face was caked with a sizeable layering of dust. If not for the mask he would have been the first man to drown in the dust. He chuckled at the thought as he rubbed the mud off his face.

After a while, his cloak turned into a makeshift tent. He hid under his woolen cloak, trying to remember the feeling when he formed the runes. He remembered the feeling, the sort of detached feeling yet at the same time a strange connection with all things. He drifted into the sea of consciousness.

Arash searched for that feeling; the feeling of absolute detachment. He closed his eyes, shunned away all thoughts. He focused on the sounds and suddenly they came to life, he could hear the sound of the wind, whizzing away in the distant. Felt the low hum of the mana deposits, listened to the flapping of his cloak, heard the rapid beatings of his heart.

He concentrated on the sound of his heart until the flapping of his cloak disappeared, the hum of the stones lost its resonance. But the sound of the wind remained. He focused on the sound of his heart. Slowly the whizzing of the wind turned to a gentle whisper. That was not enough, he yearned for the feeling of absolute detachment. Yearned for the absolute silence.

Arash strained his consciousness slowly filtering out the sound. Soon the gentle whisper turned to a distant hush.

"Help…" A cry of help echoed in distant. His eyes bulged out in disbelief as he strained his ears to listen. Reason told him to be the trick of the winds, but something inside him knew it to be true. The call held an emotion to it, the deep feeling of helplessness. An image of a man with a mangled leg flashed before his eyes.

"How is he?" He knew the viciousness of the winds, felt it firsthand. But an injured man was able to endure it.

"Should I help him?" He bitterly smiled at the thought. Acutely aware of his situation. "How can it be? Is it a coincidence?" He couldn't help but think of his brother. "how did he know?" The thought of his brother being right confounded him and the tales of the heroes came rushing back to him.

"No, this can't be right." He shook his head as he once again attuned to the sound of silence. The wind once again yielded to his will, slowing down, till it drowned in the silence. He blocked out the flapping of the cloth. Strained his consciousness to listen; to truly listen. But the sounds he searched for weren't there. Just as he was about to give up, he heard it.

"Help!" silent as a whisper but sure as the land beneath him.