Chapter 4
Lament
I am lost.
I feel as though the stone of my body has been cast far out into a great lake. The sunlight leaves it as it sinks ever steadily beneath the surface. As it descends, the stone is gripped by the darkness that surrounds it like the walls of a crucible. Such wax-poetry must seem quite childish for a man of my age, but I know no other ways to describe this feeling. And I do not mean it as bleak or as drab as it may sound. See, the stone may be lost; encircled in a blackness but it continues to drop. It moves. Much like myself, I still run. To what sandy depth awaits me I know not but it's all The Chill has left me with.
Now, do not mistake me. I am not a mere boy who is fearfully fleeing from danger. No, not anymore at least. It's not that I do not want to lash out against my oppressor but it's not that simple. The Chill more than a monster it's a sensation. It kills all, it hates all, and it lusts for domination. The actions taken by The Chill cannot be misinterpreted as meaningful displays of preservation, for none benefit from its presence. Though, if nothing else, The Chill is equal in its punishment. It does not discriminate The Chill bends all of us to abide by its way. That is why I continue to race away from my icy master. Though it begins to dawn on me, running gets me nowhere. I have to find a way to beat The Chill, a way to rid the world of it for good.
A way to conquer cold. Such an answer could only be so obvious, fire. Even The Chill has its weakness, the heat. Oh, how I wish it was that simple. You see, despite fires power it too is still at the mercy of the chill. For when the great scholars meet to talk over their cryptic scrolls they talk of fire as the outlier. They say the world was birthed into cold and that fire came later. It is for this same reason why entities do not get colder, only lose heat. You see, heat is valuable, flames have to be created, and fires these days are hard to start. But still, I believe a roaring inferno could definitely dissolve our dictators.
I mustn't forget how to make a fire; it may be our only hope. To build a fire, one must gather logs, right? But they can't all be the same log, some need to be bigger, some have to be smaller, and then there are those with dead leaves that are still attached, those burn well. You must unite the logs so that they are facing inwards, to their common goal… But this is as far as my knowledge takes me. Perhaps this was not as clever as an analogy as I originally thought it to be. Divines, how I wish I were a smarter man. Gathering logs and aligning them together doesn't make a fire, just a pile. You need something to start the fire, a spark, or maybe a catalyst. But that doesn't make any sense. How am I to know where to find such power in the world? I am still such a simple man. Although, I do have two things can depend on to carry me forward. I know that every step I take means I leave others behind to suffer a fate similar to his. But what's there to say? It's all I am left with. Running buys me time, running allows me to gather more logs, running brings me hope, and above all, running is the one thing I am good at.
[End of Chapter]
A/N: Hey, everybody! It's your favorite author once again resurrected from the dead! Gonna try for double post this week. We'll see how that plays out between structuring my life in tandem with my job but I'll do my best. Hope you all enjoyed this transitionary piece. I know it was short but trust me, things are about to get good! Like seriously, now that all that preamble is out of the way we can finally have some fun! Until next post my dearest readers, stay hyped!