12th Spring 522 AV – Temple of the Unknown The season had kicked off with force, tumbling what he thought he had known for sure into a heap of ‘what if’, ‘how can’ and ‘why is this happening’ questions, for which there seemed to be no answers. Yet he could not remember the moments which had triggered such a situation, could not even remember this Tazrae whom he had known for a while, and had met ten days ago, and had already lost memory of. It was an unbalancing feeling, to know that something had apparently been ripped out of his head without his control, or recognition. He only knew because of the things he had written to himself, the physical proof that he couldn’t really argue with. He had even considered whether someone was copying his writing style but even the phrases and words were his, they had shown him that a large chunk of his life, and thus himself, had been torn out. The more he thought upon it, going over the past two seasons, the more it seemed correct. It explained behaviour changes, the move to the Outpost and how his philosophies had radically altered in such a short time. “Yet, I cannot remember her. Changed my life, the picture had said…and now no more. What do you do when something important just…vanishes? Am I even the same person?” he wondered to himself as he crossed the threshold of the Temple of the Unknown. He had felt himself in need of the quiet atmosphere of the Temple, had felt it calling to him as he had wandered the Castle Commons, in search of marks to lighten of their possessions. He had been too distracted to do so, however, and instead had retreated into the old building. The cold, musty air that had been trapped in since winter’s end rushed past him as he opened the door, the crypt like silence greeting him after it slammed shut behind him. He listened to the echo for a few moments before entering more deeply, meandering his ay to the hole he had discovered when he had gone Brat hunting. Staring down into it he saw, nor heard, nothing. Kicking a small stone into the darkness, he heard it rattle, then settle…but no skittering. “Moved on once more…perhaps this is a sign that I should too. If my enemies can somehow reach me, even here and without touching me…then what is the point in possibly getting killed every day?” he wondered to himself, squatting down to peer into the depths of the passageway below. “Al…Alr…Alric?” came the whispered, faint response from the shadows, causing him to startle and fall backwards onto his arse. He froze, ears straining to see whether he had finally lost his mind, shattered under the strains of too much misfortune. Nothing came back and he shuddered to himself, raking his fingers back through his hair and licking his lips. He couldn’t be going mad, he refused the premise…but isn’t that what a madman would say? He stared back down into the hole, seeing nothing and looked around to make sure he was alone and with no spying eyes. He tugged at his Djed and forced it into his eyes, his gaze flashing emerald as he sought to pick out something that might tell him if something were there. There was a hint, perhaps, at the very edge of his vision, a vague smear of colour but weak and washed out. “Who is it? If you’re tricking me, I swear by Eyris I’ll…I’ll…well I’ll leave your arse red at the very least” he declared into the darkness tentatively. “It’s me…Alric..it’s” and that was all that came back before it seemed to cut off. “Shyke” he all but hissed, shaking his head at his foolishness even as he levered himself over the edge of the hole and found the toe holds to bear him, shifting his hands down and beginning the short, but annoying, climb to the tunnel below. As his feet hit the floor there was an echo of a cough, hacking and raw, but small as if from something small. He turned his attention to the direction he had discerned before, seeing now the small outline of an aura, though it seemed to flicker as if having problems maintaining itself. He walked towards it, hand upon the hilt of his broadsword, until he let go and broke into a run towards the last ten feet or so. He all but lid across the floor, his trousers getting covered in muck as he grabbed a hold of the tiny form that he knew well enough but had not seen in some time. “Lys! What are you doing down here?!” he exclaimed, shaking her gently and not getting much of a response beyond a flicker of the eyelids. |