Often the truest tragedy in life is to understand. Many convince themselves that there is a lesson in everything, but this is a great deception.
How you know life to be... is flawed. There are no sinners nor saints; good and evil turn to bloodstains drying on a wall, and the kind man is the dead man. Peace is fleeting, it comes and goes and comes and goes... And gone.
All these things you know and love are temporary, and although one could argue things are more precious because they fade, these are just the truths of mortals who have not yet understood eternity.
Knowledge is power; knowledge is never-ending and ever-giving, so knowledge must be God. But knowledge is corruption, purification, transformation, and regression so what is the nature of knowledge...?
If logic and rationale hold true, then knowledge is the garden and the grave, and if one can comprehend that; then knowledge proceeds into eventual meaninglessness.
The nature of knowledge is the inevitable collapse of knowledge, the fall of God. So do we even really know anything at all?
-N.A.V
For 5 minutes Altha had been staring out into the misty waters in quiet contemplation, waiting for the others to arrive. That was until he heard a voice say:
"You are ever the odd one, aren't you?"
Startled Altha quickly glanced around but saw nothing. The voice spoke again, its presence omnidirectional:
"What? You act like you've never encountered a disembodied voice before."
"No, I don't think I have... And I don't think you are." Altha answered.
The voice made an effort to sigh, its tone seductively playful, and said:
"Is that so? Prove it then. Unless you prove it, it's your word against mine."
Altha looked around, "You're masking your location by having the voice originate from all around me, a smart move. Is the voice even yours?" He asked. Glancing over his shoulders, he said, "You're a hard catch, and I hardly know anything about you, but I know you have Ether Control meaning you're either an Arcanist, an Astral, an Arcane Creature, or all of the above."
An amused chuckle resounded all around him. The voice then spoke:
"An Arcane Creature you say, do tell—what manner of creature could I possibly be?"
Altha shrugged, "Never mind, you're not an Arcane Creature." Looking around and up, he stated, "I feel like I'm being watched. Are there a multiple of you?."
The voice chuckled once more and said:
"Huh, how strange."
Altha pointed at the lake and asked, "Are you even on land?"
The voice giggled.
"Perhaps, perhaps not, who's to say? How about this," she spoke, and a small cube of an indeterminable colour formed in front of him. "If you can lift this cube for a total of 5 minutes, then for every minute you finish I will reveal myself slowly to you. Does that sound fair?"
Skeptical he sighed, and went to pick up the cube. At first, it was as light as air, after a minute, he felt that the weight had increased exponentially, somehow.
"You seem to be holding up well so far. Hope you can keep that up longer. Time to keep my end of the bargain."
On the surface of the water, two-toned legs appeared, one crossed over the other. Her thighs were smooth and plenty. They seemed to glow subtly with faint golden markings.
"Ha! So I was right." Altha stated.
The voice chuckled. Taking in a deep breath, Altha made it through another minute with the cube now feeling twice as heavy as before.
A lavish white fur coat appeared draped over her shoulders as the long and voluminous sleeves of the coat gathered at her wrists, while on her hands, she wore black rings with golden lining alluding to runic inscriptions on their surface.
Holding steady, he continued to lift the cube and before long two more minutes had passed. At this point, Altha felt his muscles start to burn.
Looking at the misty surface of the calm waters, he saw a form-fitting dark green dress along with a bodice adorned with gold embroidery while golden clasps and white tassels draped across her chest.
Determined to finish this last minute, Altha gritted his teeth beneath his neutral expression and held strong.
The voice resounded once again but from only one direction this time. The voice sounded honeyed and soothing to the ears.
"You're almost there. Just a few seconds more. I must say you've shocked me, I wasn't expecting you to last this long." The figure said.
Altha flexed his muscles and mustered up the strength to keep going, his goal clear and right in front of him.
It was torturous, and slowly, he felt his arms start to give out, the cube slowly slipping from his fingers. Luckily for him, however, the cube disappeared from his grasp into strings of crimson light.
Turning his sights to the ominous figure on the water, he saw a wooden chair sitting atop the water, and on it, a figure gripped an ominous black staff, twisted and gnarled as if carved from the remains of blighted wood. An animal's skull adorned the staff, its eye sockets still burning with a faint, eerie light, encircled by a spiralling crown of thorned black metal.
An emerald gemstone, similar to the one on her black choker, was embedded at the base of the staff, swirling with an ancient power. The aura surrounding it hummed with restrained chaos, as though it could bend reality itself if uncaged.
Looking up, he saw an imposing wide-brimmed witch's hat with a regal white trim on its tattered outer and black inner fabrics with a singular curved horn merged onto the strange design; the hat was slightly tipped to cover much of her face.
The voice spoke again, its tone challenging it said:
"Tell me young one, what do you make of the world?"
A stark silence lingered between them for a time then looking at her hat he said:
"That's a hard question to answer; I often wonder about the value of it. If I had a wish, what would I desire more or rather, to rephrase the question: What is greater? This entire world or to be free from it?"
The misty surface of the calm waters shifted a bit, parting slightly.
Altha continued, "To be truthful, it causes storms to brew within me and ruins the garden of my soul."
Speaking softly behind the hat, the figure said:
"And yet you persist. How admirable."
Altha shook his head, "Not really, it's just that I've survived too many storms. They're starting to feel like raindrops, and I'm an ant."
From behind the witch's hat, she spoke:
"You seem plagued by something, something you won't talk about. It must be all those pyrrhic victories. If the multiverse holds true then first came need, then desire, then suffering."
Chuckling softly to herself she went quiet. The mist parted more.
"Tell me something, Altha; what is power to you?"
"Huh?" Altha blurted out.
"You have been chosen by the Spire, so I have to ask to be sure of the kind of person it would choose to face such peril for a chance at greater power." The witch stated
Afterwards, she went quiet. Clearing his throat Altha answered:
"How I see power is as meaninglessness."
Prodding the figure asked, "Meaninglessness?"
Altha nodded, "Part of me wanted to say knowledge, but for a while now, I'd realized that knowledge that is dense enough and deep enough unravels into gibberish, and becomes meaningless."
Stopping to look at her, some fleeting thought parsed his lips, "I know the more I speak on this, the more nihilistic I will sound, but, to me, if there is any claim to power in this existence, it remains meaningless. It has power but is vacant of meaning as are all things."
The lake was quiet and its mist as wild as they were parted. Atop her wooden chair or throne unknown, she put her staff aside, letting it levitate above the foggy waters.
"It's a weird answer... I'm sorry to disappoint." Altha uttered.
The witch shifted one thigh over the other and said:
"Meaninglessness you say... Please, come closer. All that is left now is for you to do is lift the hat and open wide the door, eternity there and evermore. Follow the mists and let this mystery unfurl."
Hesitating, Altha took a step forward, placing a foot onto the water's surface; he found himself walking on water. The experience felt... curious was the only credible word he could think of to describe it.
As he made his way to her, he would glance at the ghostly mist and the clear water beneath, unable to shake the feeling that just below the surface, tragedy awaited.
A few steps later he stood a short distance from her.
"Do not falter now, young one. Divest yourself of fear." The figure urged.
Stepping closer and lifting the hat, a large part of him expected to see some eldrich entity with a face so unending that it would drive him to madness, but to his relief, a smiling face looked back at him, a face of beauty and graceful charm.
Her eyes were framed by long dark eyelashes, and greys mingled with greens within the depths of her gaze. Meeting her eyes and caught off guard, Altha averted his head, but she gently nudged his face back with both hands, their touch soft and patient.
The figure had black hair, yet her pale complexion and piercing eyes reminded him of Isolde, Solace, and Seth.
"What pretty eyes you have, Altha." The figure stated, "Such comforting solitude the hold."
Pulling away, Altha asked:
"Who are you?"
Standing up, she flicked the staff and it disappeared into strands of crimson light. Covering her feet were small dark-brown loafers which she used to walk across the water. Answering him, she said:
"Many know me as Cecily Acustes."