Abel's Tale

V. The Awakening

Specks of dirt floated around the device in orbit. The pyramid shaped artifact sat on the stump of a fallen tree. Abel rested on his knees before it, his eyes shut in deep concentration. The power emanating from the device was felt even from afar, and he reached, grasped for whatever little bit of it chose to linger a while, and it was glorious. Even in such small doses its power surged through him.

He reached out, attempted to explore what few sparks he could manage to grasp. Though few and insignificant, they were enough. Through them he saw everything around him. He saw the red sky cast its bloody hue across the dead forest blanketed in old white ash. He saw himself from a distance, kneeling before power, as if he were looking at someone just like him. A sight of oneself which one would never, and perhaps should never see of themselves. He should've been scared, panicked, but alas this only strengthened his connection. The flickers of power emanating from it grew.

He felt something grow inside. It was similar to the otherworldly feeling he felt from Malachi, but while he was cold and dark, what he felt now was warm. A wonderful warmth forming within the deepest depths of himself, in his soul. It was pure. Bliss. And in this warmth he saw a woman draped in cloth from head to toe. A silhouette against the morning star. She beckoned him toward the light, the source of this amazing warmth.

The world around him was an empty desert, sand past the horizon in all directions. Only he and the woman remained in this vast land. He followed her on the horizon toward the rising sun. Even after hours nothing ever appeared. Until now it hadn't even thought to occur to him as to where she was going. Maybe this was all that remained. Nothingness for eternity?

It was then that the silhouette grew small. Smaller and smaller with every passing step. Until she eventually disappeared behind the horizon, enveloped by the sun. A bearded Abel, overcome with despair and loneliness, dropped to his knees and covered his face with his palms. The sands around him shook and began to fall into an unknown pit. Abel stood atop a column impossibly high as the world around him sunk into an abyss. Piercing the horizon other columns stood tall, towers piercing the skies. And far below him were the ruins of an ancient kingdom lost to time. Castle walls crumbled, skeletons littering the abandoned streets. And from the heavens Abel watched the sun dim before the light was extinguished. Darkness enveloped everything, and there were no stars in the blackened sky.

Isaiah warned Abel of the destructive power this artifact held. And to see it first hand, now he knew exactly why he wanted it out of Thanatos' hands. If he were to discover how to wield its power there would be no stopping him. There'd be nothing anyone could do but wait for the inevitable. Wait for death and destruction on a scale unknown to any historian, unknown to any deity.

He couldn't just stand idly by and wait for the time to come. Not when he was in a position to do something about it. They were still out there beyond this dreamscape, this display of power being shown to him. And in the darkened world lit by the blackened sun he had to find an escape. A way out. Though this may not be real, he could still be trapped. To die with your consciousness trapped in an ancient box is a fate Abel refused, a fate which revolted him.

The warmth he felt in the forest, the silhouette walking towards the sun. He had to find his own sun within. A flame dancing among the dark. Deep inside he searched for the warmth, he searched for the lady in the desert. He searched for all that was good to him. He saw Elise. Her presence illuminated the darkness within, and across the realms and stars she cast her light on him. And he held on tight to this wonderful warmth she bestowed. He hoped she was safe on her quest.

In this moment of illumination the dying star exploded in a heavenly fire. At the bottom of the column Abel stood upon, an orb of light rose to meet him. It was so close. So utterly close. If only he could reach out. He reached, and reached. It would never be quite within his grasp. It was now he knew he must jump. Steadily and slowly he climbed back to his feet. Two steps forward he stood on the edge of the world. He peered over the edge and saw nothing but the abyss. It was just him and the small orb against the void.

He reached his hand out as far out as he could. The orb was mere inches from his grasp. If he intends to take it, truly and completely, to fall and trust fate, to do what he'd never done before, to place all his trust within himself, he'd have to leap. He knew it to be true, to be daunting and frightening but true all the same.

He steadied himself. Felt the sand against his feet. Felt the quickly cooling air on his skin. He took a step back and braced himself for the coming leap. The orb grew ever brighter, almost blinding. He couldn't hesitate now. There was no choice anymore. He blasted off.

To feel nothing but the air on your skin. To float in the void was transcendental. He felt the orb touch his hand and its warmth unleashed itself throughout his entire being. His mind and soul, his flesh and blood. A blinding light to fill the darkness.

The red skies of the forest, the sun bleeding through the clouds cast their collective warmth on Abel. And the artifact on the tree stump sat there innocently with several more specks of dirt and pebbles orbiting around it. The forest felt different though. Where he saw desolation and ash, he felt new life just below the surface. He sensed that below the wicked appearance and futile atmosphere there was a world bursting with life and goodness.

And with that energy he climbed to his feet with a completely and utterly rejuvenated self. Where before he sensed warmth, he felt only cold from the artifact. Where there was fascination, in its place laid revulsion. But deep inside him the warmth refused to fade. He felt powerful in ways he didn't know possible, he felt it surging through him in ways completely different from before. Where before it was an invasion, today it is part of him. He and the warmth are one, the two in symbiosis with one another. He recalled Malachi, Isaiah, Thanatos, they all manipulated the world around themselves. Somewhere deep within himself he knew he could do it too. And somewhere deep inside he knew it to be more than just a mere power. More than just a weapon. But something to become with.

The source of evil here, the ancient artifact. The things he saw inside it, he couldn't let its destructive potential linger any longer. The thought of seeing this world succumb to such immolation and darkness was one he couldn't bear. And so he knelt and placed his hands on the Earth below, he felt everything. The decay below which breathes new life, the wind against his exposed skin, the heat of the sun. He saw the Earth from the view of gods, the bustling cities and their slimy underworlds. The desolate deserts and the jungles teeming with life. The violent oceans and the star filled nights in their reflection. Everything all at once.

In this vast view of the world he singled out the grey, ash blanketed forest he found himself in now. And further he found himself and the red hued artifact. And then only the pyramid on a rotting stump. The dirt orbiting around it fell back toward the Earth, and he no longer felt anything from the pyramid and its red hue died.

Though still his connection with the world and himself lived on. The embers of power became an ocean of flame. With all his senses he honed in on the pyramid, absolutely and utterly determined to ensure its secrets die with him. He felt the shape of it in his hands and curled a fist. The pyramid responded to the will of Abel, cracks began to form on all sides of it, in all directions. The frame began to slightly cave inward and the glass along the surface shattered, revealing a small deep red crystal inside. He reached for it and saw it begin to float through the air.

The instant it touched his hands his vision went dark and his mind flooded with, what he could only assume to be, an ancient language. Whispers speaking in tongues. He heard distant screams and cries. He heard the crackling of a forest on fire. Strangers on horseback. He heard a mother begging for her son to run. The biting of an apple and a familiar giggle of a memory far away.

And then amidst it all came the unmistakable and utterly haunted voice of the stricken apprentice, Prince Malachi: "You can't go back to her now. Like I can't."