Just the intro. best I'm giving.
The dream came to me every time I closed my eyes.
The day was bright; the sky clear and blue. The leaves on the trees were a beautiful bright shade of green. Little white wisps floated by on the wind. It was perfect. Or it would have been, except for the gray, almost lifeless, shifting mass of pilgrims solemnly migrating along the dirt road. As bright as the world was, these figures seemed almost the opposite. Their very presence was a dulling effect that the rest of the world couldn't overcome.
In the middle of this solemn march, beautiful, long, auburn hair was lifted and blown about on the wind, mixing with the gentle wisps. Standing at an average height, the young lady of whom the long tresses belonged was a splash of color amidst the mass of travellers. She had turned into the flow of traffic, the wind now at her back blowing her hair over her shoulder and to form a backdrop on the left side of her face, and gazed sadly back upon the world being abandoned. Two children, a young dark-haired girl of six, and a blond boy of four, danced about her, pulling on her hands.
"Settle down, children. Cerille, hold still," she said to the girl. "Jofsha, you too."
My wife.
Naareise.
"Where are we going, mother?" Cerille asked innocently. She was such a precious child. I wish I had been able to watch her grow up, but I had been away on duty.
Naareise sighed softly, as she slowly turned back into the recession march. Even as she moved, she would sneak a casual glance over her shoulder, desguised as a flick of her head to get a stray hair out of her eyes.
"We are going to Jenave. It isn't safe to be in Vornal any more. Breland is near, and it isn't safe at home anymore. Soon there will be more battles. I don't want you anywhere near it."
"Ahh," Jofsha started. "We'll be fine. Daddy will protect us." The last time I saw Jofsha, he was just turning 1 year old. I wonder how he actually looked.
The procession stopped. The world had gone dark, as if the sun had chosen to stop shining. Even they grey pilgrims were bright in this darkness. Naareise had also stopped. Her hair, carried upon the wind, was blowing forward past her cheeks. She slowly turned, once more, back towards the place she once called home. The trees, the buildings, the pilgrims behind her, were like shadows. The horizon was bright white.
The world hadn't gotten darker. There was just a light brighter than even the Silver Flame. And it was growing, covering the landscape, devouring the shadows into its all encompassing light. The small town of Vornal was no more. Even the trees turned to dust. Then the last pilgrims in the procession vanished into the light. But it wasn't sated. This new force wanted more. It reached for the long tresses of auburn hair riding upon the wind, mixed with gentle white wisps.
The dream came to me every time I closed my eyes.
The day was bright; the sky clear and blue. The leaves on the trees were a beautiful bright shade of green. Little white wisps floated by on the wind. It was perfect. Or it would have been, except for the gray, almost lifeless, shifting mass of pilgrims solemnly migrating along the dirt road. As bright as the world was, these figures seemed almost the opposite. Their very presence was a dulling effect that the rest of the world couldn't overcome.
In the middle of this solemn march, beautiful, long, auburn hair was lifted and blown about on the wind, mixing with the gentle wisps. Standing at an average height, the young lady of whom the long tresses belonged was a splash of color amidst the mass of travellers. She had turned into the flow of traffic, the wind now at her back blowing her hair over her shoulder and to form a backdrop on the left side of her face, and gazed sadly back upon the world being abandoned. Two children, a young dark-haired girl of six, and a blond boy of four, danced about her, pulling on her hands.
"Settle down, children. Cerille, hold still," she said to the girl. "Jofsha, you too."
My wife.
Naareise.
"Where are we going, mother?" Cerille asked innocently. She was such a precious child. I wish I had been able to watch her grow up, but I had been away on duty.
Naareise sighed softly, as she slowly turned back into the recession march. Even as she moved, she would sneak a casual glance over her shoulder, desguised as a flick of her head to get a stray hair out of her eyes.
"We are going to Jenave. It isn't safe to be in Vornal any more. Breland is near, and it isn't safe at home anymore. Soon there will be more battles. I don't want you anywhere near it."
"Ahh," Jofsha started. "We'll be fine. Daddy will protect us." The last time I saw Jofsha, he was just turning 1 year old. I wonder how he actually looked.
The procession stopped. The world had gone dark, as if the sun had chosen to stop shining. Even they grey pilgrims were bright in this darkness. Naareise had also stopped. Her hair, carried upon the wind, was blowing forward past her cheeks. She slowly turned, once more, back towards the place she once called home. The trees, the buildings, the pilgrims behind her, were like shadows. The horizon was bright white.
The world hadn't gotten darker. There was just a light brighter than even the Silver Flame. And it was growing, covering the landscape, devouring the shadows into its all encompassing light. The small town of Vornal was no more. Even the trees turned to dust. Then the last pilgrims in the procession vanished into the light. But it wasn't sated. This new force wanted more. It reached for the long tresses of auburn hair riding upon the wind, mixed with gentle white wisps.
. I wish I had as much energy as the rest of you. I don't think I can put anything together in time, though I have ideas aplenty.
