Maelstrom
"It's the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."
- Albus Dumbledore
A few days had passed since Harry entered the Badlands and so far, he was having a relaxing journey. Herds of herbivores meant food wasn't in short supply. Time flowed naturally and he spent his days travelling the uneven terrain and browsing through his new book.
Did it begin with a blast or did it simply come into existence? When we talk about the brith of the universe, do we talk about the birth of energy or the birth of vacuum. Was it the crushing weight of emptiness that burst into creation?, read the first line of the first page.
Harry flashed back to that crushing moment in the courtroom.
I travelled the length and breadth of the universe, hoping to find an answer and all I found were questions, read the second line.
Harry paused, his eyes lingered on the third line, and then he shut the book and pocketed it with a sigh. He wasn't a fan of books that were written in first person. Not wanting to let that ruin the magic of the book, he decided to read it at night, if it decided to come along. Time was more melancholic then.
He was resting against the rough bark of an ancient banyan tree, lazing at the banks of a small spring that bubbled merrily in the middle of no where. The land was uneven so the spring became a tiny stream that attracted bird life and disappeared somewhere downhill.
Harry yawned, the chattering birds were making him drowsy. He needed to find some action or he was going to die of boredom. If this was all that was there, he wondered if its name: The Badlands, was a bad joke and he was destined to wander about without an answer forever.
He shook his head as soon as the thought swam across. He had to keep moving. Staying still was bogging him down.
He got up and stretched his body and continued his climb uphill. The only vaguely interesting observation he had made was in the place he was where the land began to incline upwards. It's gentle gradient began to undulate into a nearby range of hill that seemingly disappeared near the horizon. He wondered how high and far it went and if it meant anything. The way the land was formed didn't seem entirely natural.
Nevertheless, it was a direction and he journeyed it for two days and three nights, two of which he was sure were longer than normal, until on the third morning, the horizon began dip and the climb turned downhill steeply towards a crack in the ground that opened into a wide valley.
He could see the land on the other side of the valley and carefully navigated around the sharp rocks. He was sure the sun had risen a few hours ago but the closer he got to looking into the valley, the more cloudier it became.
He could not feel it, but he knew magic was at work. What he did feel was a faint vibration under his feet as he got closer to the edge.
And when he looked over the edge, the sound of the valley he heard.
It was battle screams and bloodshed.
His eyes adjusted to the light and he saw a mass of humans and horses rushing at each other in an enormous valley, hurling weapons at each other, climbing over the dead, slicing through each other with swords and spears; all with the intention of annihilating one side.
Harry looked closer and gasped. One side was not men on horses. They were centaurs! Massive, armed centaurs, that looked far more dangerous than the ones he had crushed to death.
Above the screaming and bloodshed, Harry could make out a distinct call being repeated from the strangely dressed men on horses. Ten~gri! they were shouting.
He leaped of the cliff and levitated down to the thundering ground, feeling awe at the sight of men and centaurs rushing and killing each other with pure bloodlust clouding their colours and minds.
Even though it felt real, when Harry raised an arm to touch a fallen centaur, his hand passed right through as if it were just a mist.
Harry still didn't feel any magic but knew there was a force at work here. He just wasn't able to sense it yet. And yet, he walked into the battle feeling a thrill by being in the middle of a raging fight to the death.
The bodies kept piling up and the numbers on either side felt endless.
It was a slaughter. He was watching history in the making. What did it mean? Why was he seeing this?
Ten~gri! The vaguely east asian men kept screaming as they battled hard. The centaurs were losing. They were being pushed back and overrun.
Yet they fought with fierce and silent determination.
Why were they fighting?
The questions kept racing in Harry's mind as he emerged on the other side of the valley. The land, instead of steeply rising up continued to slide down and curve beyond sight and yet, he felt like the ground was steeply rising ahead. What was the magic at work here?
Blood pooled beneath his feet as the sounds began to die down. His bare feet felt it warm and thick, yet when he walked on it, it dissipated like an aerosol.
An wounded man was tiredly walking towards a fallen spear and suddenly, he paused his painful movements.
Harry held his breath. Could they see him like he saw them? No one had noticed so far.
The man turned his head in Harry's direction and his eyes widened.
Harry noticed he was quite tall, his skin a whitish tan. Blue grey eyes that seemed green against the light lay under a sloping forehead made pronounced by hard edged cheek bones. Long reddish-brown hair fell in braids to his back under his metal helmet. His eyes were sharp as a hawk and he was already taking a defensive posture.
Harry reached for his wand, he felt the need to have a physical weapon. The void went defensive in the background of his mind.
Quicker than Harry could react, the man had drawn a dagger from his sleeve and tossed it at Harry. The Void instinctively reacted with a barrier but the dagger passed right through him.
The man seemed shocked and Harry took the chance to kick at him, only for his feet to pass through mist just as he had expected.
One thing was for certain. The two could see and hear each other.
Harry was amazed at the unfolding events. What was happening? He wondered if communication would work.
"Can you hear me?" he softly.
The man heard but didn't understand. He replied in an alien language that Harry didn't understand.
They looked at each other, trying to understand what was happening and almost simultaneously decided to stretch their arms out non threateningly in an attempt to feel.
Their fingers brushed and Harry felt an indomitable will that was not his own fill his mind. It was a power desire to conquer. It dissipated in an instant, leaving in him a lasting impression of the nature of the man before him.
The man felt something too and was now looking at Harry with acknowledgment in his eyes and a hint of a smile, curling around the edges of his mouth.
Harry grinned. They didn't understand what was happening but they understood each other. It was a meeting of two men with unparalleled ambition in a rift where time and space held no meaning. There was only a source.
He was wrong in his perception of the Badlands. It was not devoid of magic. It was magic! And it was playing with him. It was reminding him of his ambition.
Temujin! A call interrupted their observance of each other.
The man looked back, the call was for him, and the instant they broke eye contact the illusion dissipated and all that remained was mist. The sun was setting and visibility was reducing fast because of the thickening mist.
Harry stared at the after image of the man called Temujin with wonder. He was understanding what it meant to be in the unknown; the Badlands. He had to move to safe ground or risk another mind bending vision through the mist. The Void wrapped around him forming a protective shell.
The memories of this encounter spun strange conclusions in his mind to understand what the illusion meant. It was shown to him by the Badlands for a reason. What was it?
Was it saying he was a bloodthirsty conquer like the man whose will he had just read?
No, he wasn't. He wasn't riding the back of a conquest. He was forming his own path which bared a resemblance to the common denominators of a conquest.
Destruction. Death. Pain. Resolve. Vision. Dreams.
All human tendencies and traits.
He leaped high and began to climb the rocky hill to find a safe place to camp the night.
The realisation came to him as the wind beat against his body.
His Will was still human. Did magic want him to eradicate the human part of him? Or was it reminding him of its absence in a part of him.
His Green pulsed, in sync with his heartbeat. Don't think too much, his heart told him. Feel instead. Don't be afraid of shutting your mind.
Harry found a warm niche in the hills and settled in it's shelter with a relaxed sigh.
Feel what, he thought. His mind didn't have an answer but the green pulsed stronger. He had always thought it unnecessary. He had believed the green was just an unwanted distraction; that only contained painful emotions unbefitting of being felt by a sociopath.
And yet, in the final leg of his journey, magic was deeming it necessary for him to open his green without bias or judgement.
It was telling him it was time to surrender. Not to magic but to the green of his soul.
The stars were out and cast a light warmer than the moon's over the Badlands.
The mist was everywhere and it was making Harry drowsy.
Surrender, voices whispered to him in the dark.
Harry was falling asleep. He couldn't stop it.
Surrender… the voices whispered.
As he drifted into his subconscious, the third line of his new book simmered in the eye of his mind.
It was at the end of my wits that I gave up on meaning and looked into my Heart to find Death with all the answers.
He didn't want to do it. He didn't want to surrender to the Green.
The ground beneath him began to quake with irregular tremors.
Move! Harry tried to scream in his mind. But the power playing games with him was far too powerful. It was his match and more.
The ground began to give away. The Void was gone. Harry couldn't feel magic nor see any colours. A ball of fire burst into existence above him, streaking across the remaining sky, blocking his way out.
Everything had become a haze of falling rocks in a maelstrom of white wind. Harry could feel his body being ripped apart as he fell.
He should have been panicking and screaming in pain, but in his heart, all he could feel was delight.
He had finally found the rabbit hole. Or had it found him?
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A/N: Next Chapter: The Source.