Vocabulary Insanity

Chapter 8 - Of Death and Hope

Vocabulary:

benevolent (adj.): characterized by or expressing goodwill or kindly feelings

fickle (adj.): likely to change; casually changeable

pagan (n./adj.): 1. (n.) one of a people or community observing a polytheistic religion, as the ancient Romans or Greeks; 2. (adj.) pertaining to the worship or worshipers of any religion that is neither Christian, Jewish, nor Muslim

deity (n.): a god or goddess

monotony (n.): wearisome uniformity or lack of variety

surcease (v.): to cease from some action; desist; to come to an end

nostalgic (adj.): experiencing or exhibiting a sentimental or wistful yearning for the happiness felt for a former place, time, or situation

Story: Of Death and Hope

            They revered her as a deity of enormous power. She was the woman who controlled the lives of all, be they peasant or royalty. She was an evil force, who toyed with death like the cat taunting the mouse. None dared to offend her, lest her fickle mind rip them from life as easily as the wind tearing apart the petals of a flower.

            But she was not cruel, nor was she the bringer of death as they believed. For there was no energy in her world that could last forever. All life must surcease. None could control it, but she escorted the magic that wound through the world absorbing the last pieces of human souls. It fascinated her, that pagan wind, carrying the tiny pieces of human energy to where they would be safest. She found beauty in its kindness, as it protected the monotony of death with an ever-rebounding hope. And so, to protect the magic that kept the world in balance, she allowed the world to fear her. She even let them derive their most feared word from her own name: death from Daeatha. Yet it was not fear that she brought them, but hope.

            She had wandered for many years among the mortals of Noldair, telling of a wonderful land where the spirits of the dead were kept. A land of comfort and safety, where a wind stole away all fear and let the suffering last in peace. For all energy must die out, but the magic within all was everlasting. It was how the immortals had been created, and it was how she traveled the country without attracting attention. She let them believe in the creation of two separate goddesses: the prophetess and death. One sewing hope, and one taking it from them, until the nostalgic calling of her home pulled her back. The prophetess disappeared, yet death still grasped the mortal race.

            Many myths twisted from this fact, and the mortal race hated death even more for stealing their most beloved of goddesses. And yet, her words found their way into the hearts of the kindest and most benevolent of mortals. Hope found its roots among the humans through death. And the goddess Hopella, revered for her heart, found that she owed her fame and importance to the woman who had once stolen hope from all. Death had brought Hope to the people.