Gaea: The Stone and the Shadows

Where does a tale begin and where does one end? I've asked myself this innumerable times over the millennia, yet for all my earthly knowledge I cannot postulate an answer to this philosophical query. Was my birth the beginning of my tale? Was my rise to power the beginning? Did it all start when I gutted Letta and sliced Dagmar? I cannot answer this, but one thing I know as implicit certitude: it does not matter.

The past may shape the future, but the future may not formulate the past. Time is a linear construct, flowing indefinitely in a singular direction at various speeds. To dwell on the past in the present serves no purpose for the future.

That is what I want to say… but why, then? Why do I, one so firmly planted in logic, ponder that which has fallen into the annals of time? That which holds no import to the eventuality of existence? It brings me nothing but strife, and yet I cannot bring myself to abandon this prospect; this flippant notion that my knowledge of the past may ordain the future.

Perhaps that is why, then, I am doomed to repeat history time and again. Of my own volition I have succumbed to the destiny which I have crafted for myself. The universe is my blank tapestry, the blood of the fallen my paint. Through the power I have wrested from the intangible hands of Fate I have managed to combat that force of catastrophe and shape the world as I see fit, but it is never the paradise I hope it to be. I am not so presumptuous as to believe myself a god, nay, I am merely a proxy of nature's wrath… At least that is what I had hoped to be.

Fate is not kind, however, and it will not permit those who spite it the luxury of free reign…

-----

I hefted my staff, empowered by my desperate Fear, and sent it crushing down on the unspeakable creature before me. The enigma is without shape or substance, a veritable phantasm in the light of day. It was black; that is all I can do to describe it. It cast no shadow, but itself was an ethereal creature of dark flames with no defined form. It moved with the fluidity of smoke, and everything it struck smoldered with those damndable void flames.

I couldn't even touch it. The enigma only manifested in physical form right as it was about to attack, and even then only marginally, it was all I could do to block the thing. I was at my limit. I attuned my body with the last of my mana in an effort to pique my reflexes for more timely parries. If I were to block the creature's attacks with my hands or feet it would sear the flesh, and as such all that stood between me and the creature was my diamond staff; its impenetrable atoms impervious to all damage.

A blade of black emerged from the creature's torso and thrust at me, I parried handily and ducked to the side as the blade disintegrated and reappeared again over my head, swinging. I tried to counter but the monstrosity merely dematerialized and my staff went straight through the thing. I was left open, finished.

My eyes bolted and the mortal fear of death forced me to cry out when the spear of black flame formed behind me, the enigma swirling around my flank. I clenched my palpebra, bracing for the end, when I heard those queer, vaguely familiar other-worldly death throes.

I spun about and opened my eyes for a brief moment to bear witness to a most magnificent sight. The Shadow had been pierced by a massive spear of stone wreathed in a raw, turquoise-blue glow of mana. I saw the flows of the spell, for a moment; the spear had been infused with mana which pulsated at an extraordinarily high frequency. It was as if the stone resonated with the ethereal force.

The moment of awe passed, though, when the Shadow erupted. The enigma, which boasted a substantial magical capacity, exploded in a ball of black flames. Its remaining mana dispersed so violently that the area around me was completely obliterated. I was rendered unconscious.

-----

What am I? I am human, I know, but perhaps something else. Perhaps something less? I left my world of Gaea in my early to mid twenties; but a child. Did I perish, that day, on the field of battle? I could not recall, no matter how far I dig with the diamond I have been unable to unlock the secrets of my subconscious. Have I been living in some perpetual afterlife, then? These are the questions I have been hunting all my life, questions which I fear I will never be able to answer; questions I fear to answer. I have long since abandoned the hope of ever resolving them, though, ever since Gaea herself helped me to see the way.

It had happened twice, my deliverance from my homes, my worlds, before I finally accepted it as a part of my life. What, exactly, happens I cannot be certain; typically I merely fall asleep one night and find myself awake, naked, in an entirely foreign world; a new planet and a new time. My body, memories, and ability are all retained; and yet nothing of the past life, the world prior, is to be found.

The first time I travelled worlds I lost consciousness in an active battlefield. I have never been one to believe in heaven or hell, but what else could this be? I am thrown through time and space to land on a new Earth time and again.

The worlds all abide by the same laws, universal constants of nature, but time seems to affect things differently in each. Evolution may take a different course, for example, or magic may or may not develop. Many elements remain constant, however: whenever I re-emerge in a new world I am always thrown into a time period where humans exist, though the level of their technological, biological and cultural development is often varied.

Also: the Great Spirits exist or have existed, though they seem to be different entities from their kinsmen in other worlds. By this I mean to say that one Great Spirit in one world will share virtually everything, from name to mana signature, with itself of another world; however it holds no memory of other worlds or other versions of itself. It is queer, how even the "gods" themselves are ignorant of their alter egos.

So eerie are the many similarities in each world that I can definitively conclude that nature abides by one singular, strict set of laws. While worlds may differ superficially, the heart and course of each time remains true to the ultimate equation.

As for my part in these alternate planets and times, again, I cannot say anything for certain. I ceased aging after my first transfer; I appear as though a young man in spite of my property, in the same body of the man on that battle field. I cannot confirm, either, my mortality. What would happen if I were to die in combat? By disease or accident? Would I simply shift from one world to another, or would it truly be the end? It has never happened before, though I've often come close. I cannot shake the feeling that, in spite of my ageless body, I am still mortal. That fear has driven me. I am an eternal man who fears death.

The timeframe I inhabit worlds varies greatly. I reside in one realm for anywhere from 50 to 200 years, usually, but have lived in a few worlds for upwards of 500 years. Once, even, I lived in a single planet for nearly 2000 years. To be honest, at first I didn't really think much about my place in these foreign planets. I wanted to go home, to Gaea, even after enough time had passed that everyone I had known and loved would long be dead. I did not think I would find peace or solace if I could not lay my head down on home soil.

What, then, does one do with all this time? I have spent more time away from my home than I ever could have there, but for the longest time all I could think about was returning. I studied arcane magics, esoteric mythologies, legends and rumors for almost three hundred years. All the while my competency in both martial and magical prowess continued to grow; and this ultimately drew unwanted attention.

I can't remember how old I was - though considering the fact that I don't actually know how old I am in the first place, this is a null point – but in the third world I inhabited I started coming into contact with an entity I refer to simply as "The Shadow." The phantom attacks me without warning and without restraint. At first I did not know why, though it became apparent after a while that its manifestation was directly correlated to my mana expenditure. Every time I used my magic in excess the Shadow would invariably appear, targeting me and me alone with no care for collateral damage.

Bout after bout we contested in that third world, month after month. Each time I "summoned" the creature, whether willingly or not, it seemed to increase in power and competency substantially. So much so that I began to fear coming into contact with it, for each time it came for me I drew nearer and nearer to death. We would not end the fight in a tie forever. So I repressed my power; I developed seals which would conceal my mana capacity, and as my knowledge and power grew so, too, did the intricacy of my seals; the fear of failing to sustain them.

Before long I was so frightened of the consequences of my mana expenditure that I simply stopped using magic, placing all my focus instead on my seals and maintaining my link to the diamond. I failed, though, critically in that third world. Fearing death at the hands of capable brigands I erupted reflexively, slaughtering the band in an instant, only to bring about the much greater threat…

Though, it worked out for the best I believe. If not for that particular instance I never would have made the acquaintance of the Great Spirit.

-----

I awoke several hours later, in a pitch black hollow far beneath the surface of the earth. Something cradled me, something with a mana signature and capacity larger than I had ever known prior. The mana signature I sensed was…strange; comforting, even. It was heavily laced with an Earth affinity, much like my own, only stronger.

I had every valid reason to be terrified, yet I was not. I leaned back on the supple flesh of the massive creature and sighed in relief, closing my eyes. For the first time in nearly three hundred years, for reasons I could not readily explicate, I felt at home; I felt the solace one could only find in the arms of family.

Several moments passed and I opened my eyes once more to find that the hollow had been illuminated. Some unseen source of light had draped the sparse hole in the ground with a light tantamount to that of a gentle evening twilight. I was surrounded by mundane igneous and sedimentary rock and soil; there was no visible exit. Looking down at me with gentle eyes was a gigantic woman with peculiar features.

She was bare, holding me in her arms and resting me upon her bosom, but her inconceivable size was not what shocked me so. Her irises were gold, with vertical black slits as opposed to the typical human pupils. Her hair was an earthly clay color and fell just below her shoulders in curls. Her skin was a fair brown and was smooth without blemishes. Her facial features were strong, yet petite; promising a proud and haughty command while displaying a seductive beauty.

However the single most damning feature of the woman had to be the fact that… well she wasn't there. Her body, which nestled mine so gingerly, was actually a physical manifestation of pure mana. She was a spirit, an entity of the natural world personified. She was not bound to any singular form, yet she appeared as the creature before me.

I say creature because, as she set me to the ground and propped me to my feet without a word, I got to see the lower half of her body. Melding seamlessly at the hips, in the stead of legs and feet, was the tail of a serpent; like Morelia Viridis though the scales were of a considerably darker hue.

"Terra…" I jumped at the sensation probing my nous. I clutched my head and grunted, "Alone, Terra, for so long…" It was foreign, this new voice inside my head, accompanied by a menagerie of thoughts which were not my own. It goes beyond all human comprehension, "Find home, here…" I clutched my head even harder. There was no pain, only the shock; for almost instantly I could no longer identify myself as an individual.

"What are you doing?!" I shouted.

"Feel, think… The Way, it opens for you." I could feel her thoughts, her wills and desires. It was as though her entire being had been absorbed into my cranium. It was primal, powerful, bellicose and yet simultaneously loving, gentle and sure. I piqued my mana perception, sure that the source of this sensation was magical, and found a tether of raw mana between my head and her chest. I couldn't even follow the flow; it was so complex, though it held no affinity.

"What are you doing to me?" I grit my teeth and reiterated me question.

"Think, feel. With your mind, speak. No words," Her thoughts shifted and I felt her smile before her body even complied, "The Way. Open The Way, Terra."

"My name is Zien!"

"Good, Terra," I did not even realize it, at first, but I did not respond with my voice. I reciprocated her emotions and thoughts, sending my own essence into her, "This one knows not human tongue. I only know The Way. I am glad you are safe, Terra."

I rescinded my clutch on my cranium and stared up at the snake-woman, coiled up on herself with her hands clasped on - what would be - her lap. I looked around for an exit but found none, "Where am I? Who are you?" I was confounded, imparting into her the very essence of my confusion.

"Peace, Terra. No longer alone. Stay, be at peace."

"What are you talking about? Why do you call me Terra?" I was beginning to get frustrated. "Terra" is the gateway word for "Earth." When used as a prefix in any spoken spell it ensures the flows of mana assimilate an Earth affinity. I think back on it now and scorn my impetuous youthfulness; had I known the type of being I was conversing with I never would have asked so much of her.

The flood of emotions penetrated me once more: frustration marked by… patience? Contemplative formulation, an epiphany accompanied by a small measure of relief, "You are Terra, I am Gaea. Two halves of the same whole. Soul of the Earth, kin of stone and cousin of wood."

I was no more enlightened than I was prior to the answer and I believe she picked up on my impatience, as my feelings were reciprocated by that queer spell binding us, "Gaea? What does a Great Spirit want with me?" Gaea, my home planet, was actually named for the legendary Great Spirit of Earth; hence my knowledge of her namesake beforehand.

Her patience was faltering, betrayed first by her spell and then by her vexed face, "To bring you home."

I was shocked. Could she actually bring me home? Speaking through the spell was becoming easier as the conversation progressed, "You can bring me back? To my home planet?" My frustration had vanished, and I impressed upon the spirit my elation.

My hopes were swiftly quashed as my thoughts were returned with a strong sense of confusion; it was evident she had no idea what I referred to. I was foolish to hope that a Great Spirit could help me where all else failed. I truly was alone, "No longer alone…" It was invasive, that spell. The snake-woman felt my dejection and attempted to console me, "Stay. You have home, here."

Something about her thoughts, and more importantly her magical affinity, made me eager to trust her. I truly felt as though I was in the presence of family, in spite of the fact that we were fresh acquaintances. She was the being who freed me from the fear of the Shadow, how could I not be indebted to her? I slowed myself and considered my situation for a time, during which the Great Spirit was exceptionally patient, and I concluded a course of action.

I remained with her, for the duration of my time in that world.

-----

She was a peculiar one, that incarnation of Gaea. I have since made an effort to, at the very least, introduce myself to the Great Spirit of Earth presiding over each world I find myself inhabiting, but she was the first and last Gaea to find me. The vast majority of the Great Spirits don't involve themselves with the mortal world post-fabrication, and among them none are more solitary than Gaea. She is the true embodiment of dead earth; cold and unmoving, powerful yet slow to act, a paragon of strength and balance. Perhaps this is why I have always found myself so infatuated with her.

Gaea, in any typical incarnation, will almost assuredly sequester herself in the earth and remain nothing more than a legend for all eternity. She keeps the company of a few select Earth spirits, but prefers the solidarity of rock and the solitude of soil. I, whose Earth affinity is nearly as attuned as hers, am accepted by her without hesitation, though the magnitude of our relationship varies greatly.

That one Gaea, however, was a singular exception. She is most assuredly more of a "motherly" figure of nature. While fundamentally she was no different than most incarnations of herself, her conception of perfect balance was slightly skewed by comparison. She believed it was her duty to actively maintain the world, to prevent her ideal "equilibrium" from falling to shambles. As a result she more avidly engaged in mortal affairs, albeit very rarely, and almost always through force.

She taught me a great deal. I no longer feared the black enigma, having been liberated at last, and I had full reign of my ability once more. I had hoped the Great Spirit could answer my questions pertaining to the origins of the Shadow, or of myself, but in those regards I was once again disappointed.

Regardless, my noesis of terrestrial magic was greatly enhanced under her instruction. She aided me in the completion of my staff; she helped me develop flows for my stone skin; she sparred with me deep under the earth daily to temper my mana capacity. Never before or since have my skills seen such a drastic improvement over the course of one lifetime.

Perhaps the single most useful lesson Gaea imparted upon me, however, was the usage of what she called "The Way." It is a spell unlike any other I had encountered, relying on an external flow of untyped mana; something I had always been taught was impossible. It is a very ancient manner of magic, one developed by the Primal Spirit Materia as a method of communicating with its spawn; long forgotten by the mortal races

The Way is, for lack of a better term, a fusion of minds. It transcends speech and cognitive thought, where each will effectively contends with one another in an inexorable "path." It is a method of communication which supersedes the necessity for physical input. It transcends all boundaries; none are superior or inferior in The Way.

While I catalogue the conversations which transpire through The Way as written word, they could not be anything further from that. I merely abridge the thoughts and wills of those involved in the mental tether in a manner comprehensible for the human mind, so innately driven by tangible logic.

Anything which produces thought can engage in The Way, though the magnitude and complexity of the organism's bodies and minds involved affects the intricacy of the conveyed emotions and thoughts greatly. For example: communicating with a cluster of grass, while possible, will yield very little in the way of stimulating conversation. At most you will be able to glean that it requires sustenance or that it is cold; things of those natures. It will not enlighten you, nor even understand you, if you attempt to procure information from it. On the other hand: creatures such as humans, capable of manifesting and comprehending the expressions of thought through such complex means as language, can potentially carry out as detailed and stimulating a conversation through The Way as through speech.

There are also two methods with which The Way may be opened: consensually and forced. By far the most practical application of The Way is through force, where the caster of the spell compels a pathway to open for the receiver. This is far more complex than a tandem effort of both parties to receive a tether, but as the vast majority of mortal organisms do not even know of The Way, this is rarely viable. Gaea herself forced a pathway to my mind in our initial encounter; it can be considered a probe of sorts, and depending on the willfulness of the receiver it can be very difficult to execute.

Yes, Gaea made me comfortable for a brief time. I had never been more content away from "home" than I was in her presence. She indulged my desire to learn, much like Yvonne. She openly conversed with me, much like Agnes. She sparred with me, like Johan. She cared for me, like Judith… Not since my pack, and later my friends, had I ever felt so at ease in someone's presence; even if she wasn't really alive in the traditional sense.

I was quite fond of her and her ideals, and she was inexplicably drawn to my mana signature. I pledged my fealty to the Great Spirit; she was right, I had found my home. If only conceptually, if only in the sanctity of my mind, I found where I belonged. I found my "purpose."

How we humans can fool ourselves…

-----

The single greatest offence to nature, as Gaea had informed me, was a machine. The MK-II MT A1 Mana Cannon, a device of war produced by man, possessed a destructive capacity the likes of which even those who engineered the cannon did not understand. The weapon was one of the many fruits of a "new" type of machinery known as Magitechnology.

I was vaguely familiar with Magitechnology; as far as I had heard machines that used a specific classification of generator absorbed atmospheric mana and utilized the energy to power itself "perpetually." It was something I had little experience with in the past, in my home world. The generators themselves were the cause of Gaea's grief.

It is commonly believed that the generators absorb mana and discharge it upon expenditure, returning the energy back to the environment. It is perceived this way because, with the smaller generators, the spirits of the world generally produce enough mana to saturate the environment to an extent where monitoring the generators precise usage of mana becomes impossible. The generators are merely assumed to be like any other organic being, in that they intake mana and recycle the energy back into the world without intervention.

However, the truth behind Magitechnology is that once mana, the supplemental force which sustains all life, is discharged from a generator it ceases to exist. Without an organic font or focus, mana cannot regenerate itself, and so these insentient constructs literally destroy mana; something I never thought possible. As one could imagine this give spirits, beings of pure mana, cause for alarm.

It was not until the production of a weapon of mass destruction, however, that Gaea acted. The mana cannon utilizes a generator the likes of which had never been conceived prior, capable of storing and discharging massive quantities of the ethereal energy. It was constructed by a nation whose quest for militaristic dominance lead them to an innovation which could drain the world of life.

This could not stand.

-----

I was commissioned by Gaea to act as "Proxy of the Earth," a title I donned with a pride I loathed myself for. As I was the only human in Gaea's "employ" - for lack of a better word - I was responsible for diplomacy with the bipedal races. While the Great Spirit did not approve of the actions mankind was taking against the natural world, she was no brute. I have no love for my fellow species, and insisted a more "swift" resolution, but she pleaded I show compassion. Humans are, after all, also her children.

Through a few fanciful displays of my combat prowess I managed, finally, to obtain an audience with the prime minister of the nation behind the development of the weapon… He was not very receptive.

-----

Time repeats itself endlessly, from world to world, and people never change. It was new and exciting, that first time I stood against the walls of a city with an army of beasts and spirits at my back. It quickly loses its luster after you've done it so many times, and you only see the sorrow and tragedy wrought by your own destructive hands. It took me so long to see the wisdom in Gaea's words, but sadly I feel I am the only human able to comprehend them.

We were a hive mind, a conglomerate entity of nature's wrath. The hundreds of powerful creatures which Gaea had placed under my charge shared a pathway with me. The innumerable emotions and thoughts flooded my mind; my own sense of individuality had long since been lost in the maelstrom, the cacophony. We were legion, for we were one.

"No survivors." My mind broke free from the abyssal sea of conflicting thoughts and rose, a monolith signaling direction, a lighthouse on a stormy ocean. I severed the link, everyone had been given their orders, and we assaulted.

I mounted a large treant, of the Sequoiadendron gigantium species, as it lurched forth towards that city on the hill. We were few, compared to the humans; a scant army of 437 comprised of treants, dire wolves, giga boars, death hounds, carrion vultures, a half dozen earth spirits wreathed in stone like golems, various primates, a handful of cockatrice, the numerous other critters we could draft on short notice, and one man.

What we lacked in numbers we made up for in sheer power and experience. Not a single one of the creatures charging that wall was ill suited to the "hunt."

I climbed the tree swiftly, and by the time we reached the wall I was at the peak. I was meters above the crest of the rampart and leapt off the treant and beyond the threshold of the city proper. I would ensure that none of my allies would suffer unnecessary casualties.

As I fell through the air, the wind whipping my hair around my face, I drew the diamond out of my superficial fascia into my arms, around my fists and outward like a punch blade. I attuned my mana to my body before the impact, and thundered down on the street below. Cobblestone and concrete flew everywhere. I was not alone, of course, no; I was surrounded by men and women armed to the teeth with steel and wood.

I smirked, and let loose my fury and animus.

-----

I was no stranger to death; to struggles. No matter how many people I kill, no matter how many wars I fight in, no matter how many organs I extricate, I cannot completely desensitize myself to it. The ecstasy of my appointment as proxy, my love of serving a purpose I myself placed upon me, faded quickly that day.

To make my life more tolerable I found solace in Gaea, in the thought that I could become more than myself by helping her. I was delusional; I knew better than to believe that I was doing anything for anyone other than myself.

As I was stooped over the corpse of a little boy, clutching his wool shirt with my left hand and pulling his intestines out with my right, the city crumbling around me and bodies dropping like flies to gas, I realized that simple truth. I was high on the self-indulgence of "purpose."

This is all you. The voice inside my head spoke to me, This is what you wanted.

No… I dropped the boy's body, his large intestines, severed, draped his face. He had the prettiest green eyes, glazed over with death and blood, This is wrong…

There is no wrong, just as there is no right. You serve no master but yourself, quit being such a delusional child.

No!

The building to my left crumbled with an eruption of dust and mortar, a spirit strode by me, obliterating everything in its path, Your life has always been marked by death. That's all you know.

I'm afraid.

You deserve to be.

I'm afraid! I clutched my skull and cried. I looked down at my tiger-skin kilt and almost vomited. Strips of flesh and grume spattered the article and it was drenched in humor. There was what could have only been a man's nose stuck under the rope I used to affix it to my waste.

That's right; why else would you fool yourself?

Help me…

You finally said it. Let me aid you…

I came back to my senses, or rather I lost them, and resumed my work.

-----

Gaea cradled me in her arms, resting me upon her bosom as I cried myself to sleep. She wiped the blood from my face and shushed my whimpers. If I closed my eyes I could have sworn I was pressed against Judith, but that was impossible…

We had succeeded. The mana cannon was demolished prior to its completion, and the world was "saved." Did I make the right decision, to order the death of every last man, woman, and child? I think so. To let even a single one survive that catastrophe would have destroyed more than their life, it would have defiled their soul. I can attest to the fact that such scenes should never be survived.

It is what I wanted…

-----

First, as it always had been, was touch. As my equilibrium was skewered I could not be certain from which direction the cold and familiar sensation of granite stone affected me, yet from past experience I deduced without a doubt that it was beneath me as gravity dictated. The air was frigid as well, though no apparent precipitation could be discerned. I likely lay naked on the ground of some mountain or perhaps on some boulder by a river or stream.

Second to return was my sense of audition, a logical progression. I stabilized at the sound of my own labored breath and focused on the ambiance of my surroundings. Nothing could be heard over the whipping wail of violent torrents. I now knew the former of my assumptions likely held true; I must have been at high altitude.

Third came gustation, for whatever reason. The overwhelmingly sweet and intimate taste of my own blood stained this sense. It had happened in prior instances, as well. There were times before I would wake when I bit down instinctively, grazing my tongue. As the taste dominated me I soon became aware of that lingering pain. Yes, I had chewed my tongue once more and would not be able to speak properly for a few hours at least.

Next to come was smell, the fourth sense to recover in my waking sequence. It was barren; a crisp and clear scent common to areas with low humidity. The only olfactory property discernible was that of my body odor. Most creatures I had ever known readily admitted to my particular odor being a vehement and intolerable one indeed, but I find it comforting.

Finally I opened my eyes. Through the windows of my cranium I witnessed a magnificent sight: I was atop a hill, on a cliff side precariously placed as a promontory between two cedars overlooking a lake. The sun was setting and the orange glow dominated the water. Far below me I saw elk bounding about and birds of numerous species flitting and singing.

The sight was beautiful, but I was naked and therefore had passed from that old world. I was alone, once more. Gaea as I knew her was no more, nor were the spirits and creatures I called friends and comrades. I was dejected, initially, but I remembered: I had a home. I still possessed my diamond, buried deep within my flesh, which with the aid of Gaea had been so acutely tuned to my mana signature that it was literally a part of my body, now. As such, I still possessed my memories.

Propping myself up on a loose stone on the promontory, still disoriented as I always had been, I waited for my mana perception to return to me. My hair lashed my face in the wind, bringing great discomfort. I never felt completely whole without my sixth sense. Several moments later it came to me in a flash as my body re-attuned itself to my interior mana focus and my nous unconsciously bolstered my perception.

I could sense the life force, the mana signature, of every single living creature within several kilometers… and something more. At the very edge of my perception I could discern an anomaly of great power. It was alive, once more, that black splotch stalking me for no evident reason.

I suppose I should not have been surprised: a new world, a new set of spirits and a new calamity to avert; just as it always had been. Why, then, would the Shadow be any exception? Perhaps it really was a Great Spirit. Why, though, does it scorn me so? I would never answer these questions, but I no longer felt that I had to.

After several moments of reprieve I erected seals to conceal my mana signature. I stood up, admired the scene before me one last time – scorning it as the place I will always associate with my departure from my old life – and left the rocky outcrop for the forest behind me.

-----

I am alone, and am damned to be so for all eternity, but I know what it is that I must do. The Proxy of the Earth would fight Fate until his last breath had been drawn.