The Prophet
04-20-08, 12:05 AM
A short story I wrote a while back for a Warhammer Fanfic contest. I didn't win, but I'm pretty proud of this work and felt like sharing it with you all.
Background: The story is about a man who was made into a god in the distant future.
Imperator
The universe is composed primarily of nothingness. Empty space. A void. An eternal, still, quiet void.
Then light. Watch, child, as stars grow, expand and explode, as planets form and life is born. Empires rise and fall, races are exterminated; ultimate peace, ultimate war. A balance of imbalance. Predictably unpredictable. The order of chaos. It is the nature of life. To live is to change.
I do not want change.
Suns occupy relatively miniscule sections of space; worlds orbit them, ranging from glorified meteors to idyllic paradises. A sea of possibilities, probabilities. The universe is infinite. As such, all things that can exist, by definition, must exist, as there is infinite chance for it to happen. By that same reasoning, everything that can happen must have happened at some point in the history of being.
The universe in all its glory is all open to me now. All I see is chaos. My vision is no longer restricted to my mortal eyes. My ethereal gaze sees all, knows all. Should I wish it, I could wipe out galaxies; not through psychic devastation or pure brute force, but from simply destroying its very soul. It is ultimate power. I have ascended.
Or descended, depending on how you look at it.
I cannot affect things any more. I cannot force things to change. All I can do is observe, and remain still. My voice cannot be heard by physical ears. They hail me and call me Imperator. Men die in my name. Wars are fought in my name. Worlds burn in my name.
It is like watching yourself, as if you are just an observer, detached from emotion and the trappings of flesh. I feel angry, but it is like remembering anger. I feel joy, but it is just a shadowy copy, as hollow as the husk that once held my magnificent consciousness.
This is not how I wished it to be. I merely wanted stability in a world born of chaos. I did not want immortality. I did not ask for the power of gods. I did not wish to ascend, to become a ruler who cannot rule.
The Imperium is vast, and I am small. I stare into the future, and all I see ahead is darkness.
It is during these countless millennia, when I am left with no company beyond myself, when dark thoughts weigh on my heart, that I remember.
*~*~*~*~*
Light.
It blinds me, sends a lance of purity throughout my conscious mind. I turn and shield myself from it. Hiding. Have to hide from the light, because it hurts my eyes. They have never before been used.
‘What will we call him?’
Voices now. An assault upon senses that have known no other input than that of the womb. Touch, smell and taste kick in. The world greets me. I open my eyes and stare unblinkingly at the light, seeing faces on the edges of the radiance.
Is this life? Is this what it means to be alive?
So many questions. So few answers. Even at this moment, I was aware. Whilst other children screamed and wailed and flailed uselessly against the harsh light, I welcomed it. It welcomed me.
‘We’ll call him…’
*~*~*~*~*
And there the memory ends. To my inconceivable frustration.
My power is limitless. My influence extends over galaxies. I have transcended physical form. My mortal shell is no longer necessary, save as a symbol for those who serve me. Were it to die, I would finally be at peace. And yet I cannot die yet, thought that is all I wish.
Every time a man perishes, I feel his pain. Every time a soul screams out in agony in the endless ethereal maelstrom known as the Warp, I hear his cries. I am connected to all things. I am the head of the snake that devours its own tail. I am endless, no longer human nor even resembling a man. Upon my golden throne, the universe is revealed to me.
And yet, I cannot remember.
I cannot recall the name my mother gave me.
Who was I, before my son struck me down? Who was I, before I led an army of titans to conquer the galaxy? Who was I, before I united the tribes of Terra and led them out of an age of darkness into the light?
Who was I, before I was the Emperor?
I do not know.
And so I sit. Upon my golden throne.
Immortal. Eternal. Undying.
Perfect.
Background: The story is about a man who was made into a god in the distant future.
Imperator
The universe is composed primarily of nothingness. Empty space. A void. An eternal, still, quiet void.
Then light. Watch, child, as stars grow, expand and explode, as planets form and life is born. Empires rise and fall, races are exterminated; ultimate peace, ultimate war. A balance of imbalance. Predictably unpredictable. The order of chaos. It is the nature of life. To live is to change.
I do not want change.
Suns occupy relatively miniscule sections of space; worlds orbit them, ranging from glorified meteors to idyllic paradises. A sea of possibilities, probabilities. The universe is infinite. As such, all things that can exist, by definition, must exist, as there is infinite chance for it to happen. By that same reasoning, everything that can happen must have happened at some point in the history of being.
The universe in all its glory is all open to me now. All I see is chaos. My vision is no longer restricted to my mortal eyes. My ethereal gaze sees all, knows all. Should I wish it, I could wipe out galaxies; not through psychic devastation or pure brute force, but from simply destroying its very soul. It is ultimate power. I have ascended.
Or descended, depending on how you look at it.
I cannot affect things any more. I cannot force things to change. All I can do is observe, and remain still. My voice cannot be heard by physical ears. They hail me and call me Imperator. Men die in my name. Wars are fought in my name. Worlds burn in my name.
It is like watching yourself, as if you are just an observer, detached from emotion and the trappings of flesh. I feel angry, but it is like remembering anger. I feel joy, but it is just a shadowy copy, as hollow as the husk that once held my magnificent consciousness.
This is not how I wished it to be. I merely wanted stability in a world born of chaos. I did not want immortality. I did not ask for the power of gods. I did not wish to ascend, to become a ruler who cannot rule.
The Imperium is vast, and I am small. I stare into the future, and all I see ahead is darkness.
It is during these countless millennia, when I am left with no company beyond myself, when dark thoughts weigh on my heart, that I remember.
*~*~*~*~*
Light.
It blinds me, sends a lance of purity throughout my conscious mind. I turn and shield myself from it. Hiding. Have to hide from the light, because it hurts my eyes. They have never before been used.
‘What will we call him?’
Voices now. An assault upon senses that have known no other input than that of the womb. Touch, smell and taste kick in. The world greets me. I open my eyes and stare unblinkingly at the light, seeing faces on the edges of the radiance.
Is this life? Is this what it means to be alive?
So many questions. So few answers. Even at this moment, I was aware. Whilst other children screamed and wailed and flailed uselessly against the harsh light, I welcomed it. It welcomed me.
‘We’ll call him…’
*~*~*~*~*
And there the memory ends. To my inconceivable frustration.
My power is limitless. My influence extends over galaxies. I have transcended physical form. My mortal shell is no longer necessary, save as a symbol for those who serve me. Were it to die, I would finally be at peace. And yet I cannot die yet, thought that is all I wish.
Every time a man perishes, I feel his pain. Every time a soul screams out in agony in the endless ethereal maelstrom known as the Warp, I hear his cries. I am connected to all things. I am the head of the snake that devours its own tail. I am endless, no longer human nor even resembling a man. Upon my golden throne, the universe is revealed to me.
And yet, I cannot remember.
I cannot recall the name my mother gave me.
Who was I, before my son struck me down? Who was I, before I led an army of titans to conquer the galaxy? Who was I, before I united the tribes of Terra and led them out of an age of darkness into the light?
Who was I, before I was the Emperor?
I do not know.
And so I sit. Upon my golden throne.
Immortal. Eternal. Undying.
Perfect.