The Initiate
- Reads 417
- Votes 14
- Parts 12
Ongoing56m
Last published Tue, Oct 7, 2014
Reality is relative. The sky is blue. Most would agree this is true; they need only to look up to prove it to themselves. Take a pleasant evening walk, though, and you will watch your blue sky turn to colors of blazing flame or purple majesty. Your reality has just reshaped itself. If someone now asked you the same question, you wouldn't say the same. And the difference is only a few hours.
There are those who simply surrender to whatever reality is presented to them. Some question the reality, but are not strong enough to break free from its grasp. Then there are those with a higher sort of power.
This is the power of imagination. A person wielding formidable imagination has the ability to grab hold of reality, to twist it and mold it as he sees fit. Common people cannot realize this, because whenever imagination is used to alter reality, they accept the new facts they are given. They are weak. It is up to us, as the Chosen, to give them facts, hard truths their limited minds can cling to. We, however, are free. Free to go where others cannot: into the deepest recesses of our imagination.
We are not without difficulty, however. We are still susceptible to others' imaginations. You must be strong; those more powerful or clever than you will force their reality upon you. You will become nothing more than a phantom of their creativity.
No other conflict approaches the dire strife when imaginations go to war, because all other conflicts only ever existed within the imagination. The day of Reckoning shall come, and you must be ready. Good luck, we will be watching you.
-Message from Teachers to Chosen Initiates
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Once, this world was painted in hues of green and blue,alive, breathing, and free. Now it lies cloaked in dust and sorrow, so pale that even the sky weeps in pity. Where wings once danced across endless skies, not a single feather dares to fall. The colours of life were stolen and those who took them, know their guilt too well. But isn't that the rhythm of life itself? To fall, to bleed, to rise again? Life was meant to be free wild as the wind, untamed as hope. Yet now, that life flickers...its final light trembling beneath the weight of despair. Until they came, the "saviours," wrapped in golden lies. They promised colour, promised salvation, but in the dark, they only snuffed out more stars. And just when the world's last song was about to fade life defied its own ending. It gave birth to something forbidden. Unnatural. Unwanted. Unbreakable. They were the echoes of rebellion souls forged in silence and fire. The world would tremble again, its nights filled with screams of the dark for the light these Unnaturals would ignite. For they were no longer just outcasts. They were "Revolutionaries" rising against the shadowed throne of a corrupted order, against the lies that chained the truth, and against the hands that silenced every voice that dared to speak. And through their defiance, the world would remember, that even in the deepest dark, light is born from those who refuse to bow.
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