Colorless Green Ideas

A New Era

At long last, Abel held both the Key and the Stone. He uttered a silent apology to Celia as he broke apart the locket with his trembling hands, letting the Stone roll out onto a pile of linen sheets. He examined it for a moment; captivated by its flawless form and crystalline beauty. Peering into its center seemed to pull him inward and bathe his soul in its infinitesimal wisdom, flashing startling images before his eyes that hinted at the significance of the knowledge it contained. he swore that it showed him Tristan's face, an image that caused him to hesitate in lifting the Key to the Stone. After a moments thought, he regained his composure and remembered what he had to do, what he had been waiting decades to do.

He tried to prepare himself for the knowledge that the Stone would impart, but nothing could brace him for what he was about to learn. Nothing.

Finally, he reunited the two, and Celia's beautiful voice filled the room.


Suddenly, his home was as foreign as the world he had seen in the Stone, as if he had been ripped from his reality and displaced between the very threads of time, where it was impossible to discern the substantial from the intangible. He glanced hesitantly into the mirror and his eyes met those of a stranger; sunken and lifeless. The imposter's sallow flesh seemed to have been draped carelessly over his frame and then pulled too tightly, giving him a hauntingly languid appearance.

With an uncharacteristic, unadulterated burst of blinding rage, Abel heaved the mirror onto the cold stone floor. The glass shattered into a million fragments, each one glowing iridescently in the filtered sunlight.

All his life, he had guided others, and he truly believed it in himself to be capable of doing so. It was always he who had played the part of the infallible, omniscient pillar of knowledge, when in fact he knew nothing. The cruel irony of this realization sent him into hysterics once more. He longed to be a child again, wide-eyed and oblivious, when all the war and hatred in the world seemed so far away.

"Basthet," he whispered, "how could this have happened? Imonde, Celia, Zeira...what have you done?!"

He wished he had never heard of the Stone. He wished for his old life back, but it had been swept away in a second's notice and buried deep within his memory where it would lay, undisturbed, until his life left him. He wished a thousand fool's wishes, knowing well that nothing he could hope for held any relevance now.

A dreadful feeling of isolation punctured Abel's soul and bled into his veins, leaving him feeling as if he were alone in the world. He pulled a horrifyingly unnatural scream from his depths, a scream that reverberated endlessly through his skull and seemed to shatter the very air he breathed.

Somewhere outside, the Song of the Phoenix rose in response. Abel let the Song fill his heart and nurture his soul as he had done countless times before, and even now, during his darkest hour, its beautiful crescendo allowed him to hope.

He then realized that the burden of the Stone was not his alone to bear; he still had the Council, and the Order. As long as the world remained blissfully ignorant, he had all the time he needed.

After hours of silent reflection and careful consideration, Abel resolutely climbed to his feet with a fresh determination and a renewed sense of purpose. He took one last look at his reflection, multiplied in the shards of the shattered mirror, and then strode from the room, carefully wrapping the Stone in his robes as he went.

I've much work to do, he thought.

posted by Sylpheed @ 1:41 PM