Khaian Memory
08-28-11, 07:12 AM
Where am I?
The black. It was his prison, and it was the singularity of his existence, towards which all other senses converged, squashed into obscurity by the wall of darkness. The rain, the wind, the sun..none of nature's assets could penetrate this sombre fortress. The black wall sealed him from the sustaining radiance outside.
Where am I?
In the beginning, the shadows were his blanket. He was devoid of sensation and embraced by a slumber without boundary. There was no awareness of the impending day, or evening, or night. There was no time. This limbo was a reality wherein nothing dwelled to bring Khaia to himself. His being slowly assembled in fragments, piecing together like a jigsaw of sentience painfully slowly. His sensations, his hearing, his sense of smell and taste, his orientation, and at length his own thoughts occurred randomly, at intervals, and never in synchronisation.
Am I alive?
Being the first priority of any waking being to assess itself, Khaia vainly strove to peer into the abyss. Thwarted by the endless black, he sought his other senses, something to grasp, something real. A windy howl filled one ear. A tough, grainy texture scratched the surface of his cold skin. A fine dirt powdered his parched lips and tickled his nose, bringing into effect his first notion of movement. As his body convulsed with a sneeze he discovered his restrictions, and in these he startled himself. A tangle of wooden limbs suspended him in their clutches, grasping him, clawing at him.
As if his stirring had roused a vicious beast, the branches tensed while vines snaked around his body and tightened their coil. A fit of claustrophobia seized him as the fiends squeezed away his fickle breath and threatened to crush his ribs. Deep in panic, he struggled against a dark sea of nightmares, with every stroke conjuring another rope to restrict him. His wild thrashing yielded no greater results than they would in a lake of quicksand. Suddenly he found himself exasperated and overwhelmed, the idea of escape fading into the black void in which he existed. Once completely submerged, his precious consciousness began to wane, and by the next moment the dark wave subdued him once more. Only the spectre of a voice haunted his last waking moment.
Kneel, know your own helplessness, know despair, for I will show you the decimation of Saosi, wrought from the very servitude you tried to escape.
He approached the dim light of consciousness with tamed reflexes, assessed himself for the final time, and quieted his movements.
Know that I am the one who guides you.
He waited patiently, silently. Waited for the imminent. Waited for those vindictive tendrils to rise from the murky black and strangle him senseless again. Waited for them to exact the excrutiating judgement his body expected.
Know my name, Khaia. For I am not one man, nor ten, nor ten thousand. I am beyond numbers, beyond reason. I am...
Nothing happened.
Nothing. Then silence.
Relief cued him to start breathing again when he noticed that he had neglected it. He was trembling, but as long as he could keep himself calm, his mind was at last free to roam about and speculate.
The obvious question came first. When his eyes slowly opened, they awoke to dim grey. Khaia's habitat was no haven for light, that much was certain. He found that there was little to feel, smell, or hear that would clue him towards any useful idea of where he might be. It smelt like scrub, foilage, dirt...and those dreaded vines, as dry and itchy as ever against his skin, held clasped to every limb. Oddly, a faint sting gnawed at the base of his back, a thorny, penetrating throb. His senses coagulated together to present to him the leafy surroundings of Concordia Forest and, with that, the grim reality he now faced.
He didn't know it yet, but he had arrived on the planet of Althanas.
The black. It was his prison, and it was the singularity of his existence, towards which all other senses converged, squashed into obscurity by the wall of darkness. The rain, the wind, the sun..none of nature's assets could penetrate this sombre fortress. The black wall sealed him from the sustaining radiance outside.
Where am I?
In the beginning, the shadows were his blanket. He was devoid of sensation and embraced by a slumber without boundary. There was no awareness of the impending day, or evening, or night. There was no time. This limbo was a reality wherein nothing dwelled to bring Khaia to himself. His being slowly assembled in fragments, piecing together like a jigsaw of sentience painfully slowly. His sensations, his hearing, his sense of smell and taste, his orientation, and at length his own thoughts occurred randomly, at intervals, and never in synchronisation.
Am I alive?
Being the first priority of any waking being to assess itself, Khaia vainly strove to peer into the abyss. Thwarted by the endless black, he sought his other senses, something to grasp, something real. A windy howl filled one ear. A tough, grainy texture scratched the surface of his cold skin. A fine dirt powdered his parched lips and tickled his nose, bringing into effect his first notion of movement. As his body convulsed with a sneeze he discovered his restrictions, and in these he startled himself. A tangle of wooden limbs suspended him in their clutches, grasping him, clawing at him.
As if his stirring had roused a vicious beast, the branches tensed while vines snaked around his body and tightened their coil. A fit of claustrophobia seized him as the fiends squeezed away his fickle breath and threatened to crush his ribs. Deep in panic, he struggled against a dark sea of nightmares, with every stroke conjuring another rope to restrict him. His wild thrashing yielded no greater results than they would in a lake of quicksand. Suddenly he found himself exasperated and overwhelmed, the idea of escape fading into the black void in which he existed. Once completely submerged, his precious consciousness began to wane, and by the next moment the dark wave subdued him once more. Only the spectre of a voice haunted his last waking moment.
Kneel, know your own helplessness, know despair, for I will show you the decimation of Saosi, wrought from the very servitude you tried to escape.
He approached the dim light of consciousness with tamed reflexes, assessed himself for the final time, and quieted his movements.
Know that I am the one who guides you.
He waited patiently, silently. Waited for the imminent. Waited for those vindictive tendrils to rise from the murky black and strangle him senseless again. Waited for them to exact the excrutiating judgement his body expected.
Know my name, Khaia. For I am not one man, nor ten, nor ten thousand. I am beyond numbers, beyond reason. I am...
Nothing happened.
Nothing. Then silence.
Relief cued him to start breathing again when he noticed that he had neglected it. He was trembling, but as long as he could keep himself calm, his mind was at last free to roam about and speculate.
The obvious question came first. When his eyes slowly opened, they awoke to dim grey. Khaia's habitat was no haven for light, that much was certain. He found that there was little to feel, smell, or hear that would clue him towards any useful idea of where he might be. It smelt like scrub, foilage, dirt...and those dreaded vines, as dry and itchy as ever against his skin, held clasped to every limb. Oddly, a faint sting gnawed at the base of his back, a thorny, penetrating throb. His senses coagulated together to present to him the leafy surroundings of Concordia Forest and, with that, the grim reality he now faced.
He didn't know it yet, but he had arrived on the planet of Althanas.