From The Collections Of Rhye

'oh this material world'

It was like any other collection, dark, torn, musty and unkempt. A vile odor of neglect soaked her senses as she pushed through the molded door. The stone work of the door way was replaced by a rotting wooden floor, it was brimstone oak, sturdy and resilient in its cores, used to holster many seasoned housings this side of the waters. It must have taken a considerate amount of neglect and dedication to it, so as to achieve this monstrous result. She walked gingerly upon the consuming decay that spread through the once artistic construct, heaving against the creaks of the woodwork, to the reach the center of the morbid hall. From this point on, thin streams of light broke out at random from the ornate ceiling illuminating more neglected scrolls and mold ridden arrangements of the same. The candle holsters hanging onto their dear will in the widening cracks, groaned against winds from the depths of this failing architecture. As she adjusted her bone rimmed glasses so as to better suit to accommodate this ghastly view, she noticed the Centinal colveri, a voracious folia, grip the holds of the stone walls, accommodating itself to every free space it saw fit. "Curious" she thought, "why only one form of sadistic folia dominates this grim collection hold?"

No one answered, thus she moved on to seek what she sought.

After having walked a few paces, she drew abreast to a faint whimpering light; it cast its weak glow onto a monotonous assortment of what appeared to be a reading area. A collection of tomes, scrolls, dried ink pots and parchment lay hastily gathered onto the middle of a stone table. They were there, as if un-touched by time, a faint fresh ink smell still emanated from the open ink pots. A sense of relief drew over her; she felt perspiration soak her clothing. She knew no had entered this collection hold before her, no one really paid attention to these sort of things anymore. It is to be understood, that her relief was not akin to her being the singular visitor to these halls, but to the fact that the reading table was as she had left it.

Her tales were safe, for the moment at least.

She wouldn't bother looking for a seat, all the arrangements barring a few stone tables were wooden, and had been gone to mites and molds. She rummaged through the pile of old parchment and drew from it a singular collective of notes bound in cured hide and drew them level against the weak light and continued from where she left off-

'This perhaps should have been the prima entry, but this old mind has lost its luster, and has begun to fail. Never the less, it is my wish to record and pass on all this wretched soul has acquired and learnt throughout these eventful ages. We, in all our worldly dimensions, perceive our environment as material, which in-fact holds true. Everything ever created is material and one day end its cycle to be fodder to the next hungry appetite. Meaning, we are material energy which can be felt and experienced, and be cycled but never created. This, dear one, was not always so.
Even before the advent of this world or anything resembling its individuality, even before time, there was - nothing. It was a chaotic random mass of possibilities that kept folding and expressing itself . This phenomenon was referred to as the immaterial, in saying so, it had no form nor was it definitive or guided by any order. This was all fine, until this immaterial existence started to repeat its possibilities and combinations. It had reached a distinctive limit in its existence, the repeats continued till a point was reached, where they were bound in a cycle and would manifest and go back to its original stand point, only to be repeated all over again -this was the making of time.
The 'immaterial' existence now bound by time began to fold and cycle with increased synchrony to latter. This caused the random nature of the 'immaterial' to fade, and an increased pull of order began to be established. This was the beginning to the structuring of the random, with the advent of order, randomness began to abate. The immaterial existence now conflicted with two different forms began to turn and convulse within its nature, this conflict saw the blend of immaterial randomness with constructed order so as to sustain the immaterial existence and end the conflict. This fusion with the increased influence of order, later structured to form 'isa' or 'energy'. As time wore on energy began to change and evolve, absorbing and recreating the random existence, this divergence from the 'immaterial' nature finally gave way, all the randomness ceased with a massive surge of ordered energy, which under the influence of time folded itself to form the first 'material existence.'

Thus, dear child, we are but energy bound by time and order, a constant cycle of forms, inter changing and folding upon themselves. Even though were energy, remember this, a day will come, when energy itself will be cycled and the material existence will cease to be,

For in order lies chaos,
And in structured energy lies the unpredictable random.'

Thus, read the last of the notes she had begun to read summers in her past. As she closed the collective under the wavering glow of evening light, she saw the parchments age and wither as if taken by a vile sickness, and in time they decayed and were lost, before they could even leave her weathered touch. Yet, she stood there, nonchalant. A dull glow broke along the dead collection, and as the specks of light began to thin rapidly and degrade within the vastness of ominous darkness, so did the hall.

[If you enjoyed reading this chapter, make sure you vote, add it to your library, tell you friends or even your your grandma about it. Most importantly - don't be a stranger, comment and critique to your heart's content. (But first read and vote) More chapters coming up, stay tuned. Read all you can, life is too short just for netflix
-Austin ]