Season of Summer, Day 32, 513 AV The Void echoed with voices unheard. Ronas Dermir sat crosslegged and immobile, outside the citadel walls of Sahova. He was facing the forbidding-looking forest, but not within it, his eyes closed and his shaved head bowed. To anyone looking, it might seem that he was asleep, but Ronas rarely slept. Only at night, for exactly six Bells. Not a chime less, not a chime more. Through his mind repeated the same mantra, over and over. Close your eyes. Clear your mind. For him, it was crucial to success; the clear mind was able to see what a clouded one could not. He had to free himself from all distractions, and he did this by identifying and slaying every thought that threatened to appear. He ceased thinking about his day, his orders, or the feel of the gravel under his legs. He ignored the strain of his muscles, the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves, the chill of a breeze across his face. All these things, these thoughts, had to be purged. His mind needed to be clear of all thoughts. Close your eyes. Clear your mind. He wasn't trying to create a Void portal, though it would be easy to do so in this state. Meditation of this nature was simply to recharge his body for the exertions of the day. He did this outside the Citadel merely because he did not wish to damage the structure, should he accidentally create a portal during meditation. The chances were small, but nonetheless. He was drifting again, thoughts threatened to creep into his mind. He did not squeeze his eyes tighter, nor did he tighten his muscles in a vain attempt to force them out. Instead, he still sat there, calmly and serenely, letting the thoughts flow back out of him like water from a cup. He could feel the draw of the Void, calling to him. Echoes of the Void. Thoughts bounced across the empty expanse, ending back where they began. He pictured opening a portal, taking his thoughts, his memories, his very soul and tossing them in. No need for any of them. The first duty was to the mission. The slight tug of Pull drew him from his meditation. Opening his eyes, he behold a small swirling hole in space, its pull barely enough to be felt. Nonetheless, Ronas felt a cold chill. He had created a Void Portal. He had lost control. Ronas did not curse or frown or show any outward sign of annoyance or anger. But inside his gut, he felt a roiling, hot feeling. He had lost control. He needed more discipline. This could not happen again. |