Prologue (2)
Still he sat there in his chair, dead to the whole. If the whole house fell upon him, he couldn’t care less. There was nothing more to treasure in this dead world. She was dead. He had never felt more alone before. It was like he now existed in a void and all these people around were just clay figurines, mouths moving incessantly to some purpose unknown to him.
“Why did all these people argue with each other? Do they not treasure the lives they led? They have no idea of what is out waiting for them. They only know the comforts of their own, selfish humans all. Killing one another, all for what? Nothing,” his thoughts sped on like a train, sparing no mercy.
He had sensed that his landlord was coming long before he saw her out of the corner of his eyes. But he ignored her, more out of need than impoliteness. His grief knows no bounds, and he was afraid if he ever opened his mouth, the dam to his sorrow would open a torrential flood of pain that she probably would not be able to take it.
“How fragile all humans are, yet they act not. Like they at the top of the food chain.
As he sat there, he dreamt again. Yet he was awake like always. The images came to him as clear as spring water in the beginning of spring.
The forest was teeming with life. Birds flew overhead, making darting forays into the sky and crying out their happiness. Monkeys swing from tree to tree slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. Golden rays penetrated the foliage of the forest, adding an unholy glow to the surroundings, almost elevating it to another realm unbeknownst to Man. Sunsprites danced mischievously in the air, tapping upon the rays of sun like they were marble stairs. He could sense a protective blanket over the oasis, covering the sanctuary in a gossamer of calmness. He felt at piece with his surroundings. Places like these were getting scarce. There was nowhere he could turn to when he felt frustrated. Earth magic was dying, slowly but surely. He could feel the taint of metal in the Source when he embraced it. The taint of humans. The coming of the Age of Man. There was no way he could remove the taint. Not alone.
“Why did all these people argue with each other? Do they not treasure the lives they led? They have no idea of what is out waiting for them. They only know the comforts of their own, selfish humans all. Killing one another, all for what? Nothing,” his thoughts sped on like a train, sparing no mercy.
He had sensed that his landlord was coming long before he saw her out of the corner of his eyes. But he ignored her, more out of need than impoliteness. His grief knows no bounds, and he was afraid if he ever opened his mouth, the dam to his sorrow would open a torrential flood of pain that she probably would not be able to take it.
“How fragile all humans are, yet they act not. Like they at the top of the food chain.
As he sat there, he dreamt again. Yet he was awake like always. The images came to him as clear as spring water in the beginning of spring.
The forest was teeming with life. Birds flew overhead, making darting forays into the sky and crying out their happiness. Monkeys swing from tree to tree slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. Golden rays penetrated the foliage of the forest, adding an unholy glow to the surroundings, almost elevating it to another realm unbeknownst to Man. Sunsprites danced mischievously in the air, tapping upon the rays of sun like they were marble stairs. He could sense a protective blanket over the oasis, covering the sanctuary in a gossamer of calmness. He felt at piece with his surroundings. Places like these were getting scarce. There was nowhere he could turn to when he felt frustrated. Earth magic was dying, slowly but surely. He could feel the taint of metal in the Source when he embraced it. The taint of humans. The coming of the Age of Man. There was no way he could remove the taint. Not alone.
Ave Maria :01:16
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