ZARATHUSTRA

Prolouge

Zarathustra stood up from initiation. He was leaning back and arched, facing the ceiling. The air was calm. Yet dense. Both of the horoths reformed and simply looked at Zarathustra. Zarathustra's eyes where closed, his calm expression seemed stained to his face. His arms were too his side. Limp. Then his fists clenched together with such force that it sent out an enormous shockwave. Both of the horoths in the room instantly broke. And shattered in trillions of pieces.

Finally the room was silent again. And then you could hear it.

Zarathustra: ..........haaaaaaaaaaaaaa-......

Zarathustra exhaled deeply and in a raspy tone. You could hear garroths deep voice, and Stephanies light feminine voice mixed in with Tys, in a morbid sighing. This was Zarathustras voice. His new voice.

Zarathustra then slowly stood up straight. As if gravity was no longer affecting his stance, his upper body leaned back up straight. Like a zombie. Zarathustra then hunched forward as his arms hung down in front of him. He felt steam peeling off his skin. Both of the horoths reformed once again. They both stepped back as Zarathustra stood in the center of the throne room. He faced his throne.

Zarathustra wore pure white robes. His pants where long and pure white, with minuscule silver lines running along the width of his pants at the thighs. His belt, now tightly strapped around his waist, sat hidden beneath his top waist robes. The waist robes flowed down to Zarathustras calves about mid way, however only behind Zarathustra, like a small waist cape. Zarathustra seemed to wear socks of some strange wool. But strange gold cuffs surrounded his feet, acting as shoes, yet being flexible and maneuverable. The cuffs had hope inscriptions on them. Ty also had a neck cuff and wrist cuffs. Both endowed with hope inscriptions, like his footwear.

Zarathustra then stood up straight. His form and body seemingly twitched all at once as the exenoverse vibrated.

He opened his eyes.

Dull

Hope

Null

Light.

He stared forward. Staring at the throne. And then loomed down at his hands and clenched them once then twice. He then turned around.

His face made absolutely no expression whatsoever. He then stared forward again. His breathing was now near deathly silent. His eyes didn't even dart around.

Screams.

He could hear them in his head. He didn't know why, but after what he went through, he didn't dare question it.

Zarathustra then saw a mirror. He swore that his heart dropped as soon as he saw it. He walked over slowly, each step echoed down the large hallway that was the throne room. The mirror was on the side of the hall. As he approached it he could see himself clearer and clearer. Finally he was facing himself in the mirror. Staring back at Himself.
He tried to smile.

Nothing.

He tried to frown.

Nothing.

He tried to raise an eyebrow.

Nothing.

He pounded his fist against the wall next to the mirror as he stared deep into the contents of his reflection. His head shook. He tried to cry.

In a slow and methodical manner tears came streaking down his face. However his face remained the same. His eyes didn't even shrink or squint. They just let tears fall.

Zarathustra:...NO!!!!!

The room was upheaved in heavy air. The tiles cracked as Zarathustra walked away from the mirror.

Horoth: master please calm yourself. It's all going to be ok-

Zarathustra grabbed the being by the neck and squeezed. It broke instantly. Zarathustras face still showed no emotion. However his eyes where now wide with anger and despair.

Zarathustra then stared at the floor as he saw a pool of tears below him. Tears stained his chest and his arms. He then slowly looked up at the throne. He seemed to look up blankly. But in a strange way you could swear that emotion crossed his face.

Briefly his head twitched and a brief image of him yawning with blood seemingly appeared. Then he walked over to the throne. And he sat down. The room was quiet.

He would become one with the silence.