The Mad God (On hold)
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- Parts 21
Ongoing2h 39m
Last published Fri, Aug 15, 2014
Every person has a past, a secret, a desire for revenge. No-one is perfect, least those that have seen their parents murdered before their very eyes; watched as their mother drops dead, no visible marks on her skin. She died because her husband spoke out against the democracy. The six children spared because of their age, but every other relation over the age of a hundred was murdered, killed to stop them spreading more slanderous 'lies'.
The six grow up, the nightmares of their reality burnt into their minds, their magic their only consolation. With no family they start to research ways they can get their revenge, whilst contributing towards the might of the empire.
For hundreds of millennia the empire has relied on magic and that very reliance threatens the world they live in.
The six siblings decide, after being publicly humiliated by the people they were trying to save, to destroy their world and start anew. But nothing lasts forever.
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It is the autumn equinox, or the death day, the time to contact those that have gone before. Everyone closes their eyes and are silent to commune with the spirits. I had never tried to contact spirits before. But this year I seek my mother. She died this day, fourteen years ago; my birthday. My position in the ceremony is shadow maker. This is a role that I have played since I was old enough to carry the marker staff. It is a rod the length of my forearm tapered at the lower end and holding a clear stone at the top. I hold it high in the air waiting. It catches the light, and its shadow forms an eye directly in the middle of the equinox stones. Spirits surround me. They stop and nod, or at least make eye contact before moving on. "Mother?" She could be an older version of myself. She smiles at me, then, fades as an old presence joins me. This spirit isn't just old; it's ancient. It exudes wisdom and understanding, peace and culture. We celebrate, together, to the music of creation. I seem to know the dance but not as well as she. We are alone only briefly before being joined by another. They dance as if they know each other's every move. I try to keep up. When I falter, they smile, laugh and show me how. There is no passage of time. We dance together for an instant and forever. I shouldn't, but I open my eyes. My shadow, marking the equinox, isn't a shadow, it is a shimmering swirl of blended light. The stone in the top of my staff is flicking with a brilliant white accented by scintillating bands of many colours. I quickly close my eyes but the ancients are gone. We all open our eyes. My shadow falls through the standing stones as it should. And it is black, also, as it should be. They had danced with me.
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