Falyndar had not been a warm host by all senses of the word. Torrential rains swept the trees and swelled up the streams, affording great leeway of a slew of dangerous creatures great and small. If it hadn't been for the Myrians and Dhani that call the jungles their home, one would be truly hardpressed to comprehend how anyone could possibly survive the sheer brutality of Falyndar's worst moods. Respite would be fleeting and minimal for its visitors, no matter how hardy or strong.
Considering how physically imposing he is, Sorian should have been able to endure the harshness of the wilds. Even if it had rained for forty days and forty nights he would have found a way to survive. He was an Akalak; he meant to survive anywhere and anything. Yet here he was, standing on the edge of life, death, and the beyond, uncaring about the physical beatings he had absorbed, but nearly broken by the most gifted of torturers. He was dying from himself, pr more specifically, his malfunctioning mind.
It had become a gigantic wasteland just for him, a burial mound ironically filled with verdant life, snaking as constantly beneath his feet as it did around him. The solitary blue figure had been traversing the landscape for a while now, living off the land in what ways an inexperienced jungle traveler best could. It was amazing that he hadn't been killed yet, considering how inexperienced he was, how weakened... And how impaired he had become.
Ever since Karnelia had reappeared as a fearsome, unidentifiable malaise within his consciousness, she had not left him alone to have his peace. She appeared in every corner, hiding behind every fern, every grotesque jungle tree. She was making good on that promise she had made to him during that stormy jungle night, and she is slowly winning over him by means of mental and emotional attrition.
"We shall be together, forever! Death is only the beginning!"
She was far removed from her former glory, twisted by tragedy, changed into a wicked apparition which never dissipated even when Sorian was -or felt like he was- awake. There was no aid forthcoming, no relief to pull him out of his own personal hell; Sanctuary is still so far away, and his legs were starting to feel the enormous weight of his taxing journey. But how could one rest in such a dilapidated mental state? There was certainly none to be had for him, as Karnelia continued to haunt him into countless sleepless dreams, coiling her undead fingers around his throat every time he dared closed his eyes. For all his vaunted racial strength as an Akalak, he was beyond powerless against her gaunt, wispy visage. All he could do was cower away like a beaten child, panting and gasping at every shadow that came to loom over him, for fear of facing the ubiquitous banshee who was continuously raping his mind.
He had tried to run away from it all, expending his body and pushing himself past his limits, all to ward away the cruel thoughts that followed him wherever he went. He had also tried -desperately- to flail away at her, repressing his feelings savagely, only to find that he had been raging at thin air. But after a moment's reprieve, his hair would stand on end, and once his wits have regained some measure of composure, he would hear an evil cackle spring up behind him.
All of his constant, pathetic pleading were neither answered by Karnelia's ghost, or by the solemn nonchalance of nature. Even the raucous, ravenous beasts that inhabited the jungles dared not liberate such a strange, revolting creature from his perpetual suffering. His wails and haggard breaths cut through the air like the warnings of an angry monster, driving the true dangers away. It was all so ironic to him; he was, afterall, essentially begging for them to come and tear him apart.
When all else had failed, he began to plead and beg, no longer caring about pride or vanity. He pleaded and beseeched her to leave him; he moaned and hissed and motioned for forgiveness. And when there was nothing left but the pure, sublime desire for death, he started demanding for the right to die without her laughing over it. But the torrent of Karnelia's wrath pressed on in gigantic waves, inundating him, bloating his besieged mind with daily servings of stress and chaos. Even his desire to die was soon spent, leaving him with nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The days passed by without him noticing how he had stopped his frantic running; how he had largely forgotten to eat; and how he hadn't been stopping for rest. Every cell in his body was burning with pain. screaming of hunger and fatigue, but his tightening mind prevented him from feeling it. Even the periodic rage of his bowels could not cow his animated body into submission, preferring to mindlessly defecate while walking. The sensations passed, returned and lingered with increasing force and protest every day, feeding off of his damaged emotions until there was finally nothing to sap away. Every step, every breath, every thought was buried in his emptiness. The questions that assailed his mind stopped their convoluted whispers as well, leaving many blank spaces that buzzed with the monotony of nothingness.
Soon his eyes, his searching blue eyes that used to be so full of gentleness, began to darken with the irreversible effects of blindness. They had unconsciously stopped blinking -his breaking mind focused only on stemming the tide of emotions- leaving them unshielded from the winds and dirt that came with every rain shower. Sleep deprivation also partook in their gradual demise. What's more, he had been very sick for awhile; his temperature was at an unwavering 102 degrees, but his legs mindlessly plodded on.
And Navis? Looking at their body's current state, one would be sorely pressed to avoid mistaking the manifested personality as the dark side. Yet in all actuality, Sorian's other half was nowhere to be found, completely obscured by the permanent damage that had wrought their mind. Even though they were actually separate entities in one body, the gradual destruction of one cannot leave the other unaffected. The darker side was relegated to the background, almost as powerless and mindless as Sorian. To make it worse for him, his ability to manifest in the open had been severely impaired by the emergence of Sorian's very own "dark side", his maddened side. It had created a huge amount of damage to their spiritual balance; thus, Navis was being pushed back by a "second dark soul" that he has no control over.
After almost two days of mindless plodding, the hulking blue body managed to step on a sharp rock and stumble to the ground. The fall reminded it momentarily of the abuse it had already endured, of the things it should be feeling and healing. An enormous barrage of tiredness and desperation -and unsated hunger- overcame it and its sanity. Finding nothing but mud and vines on the wet ground, "Sorian" grasped a handful of soil and shoved it into his mouth. Disgust and propriety were things long forgotten to him; he couldn't even tell what was edible and what wasn't. Finding the soil and vegetation without substance, he looked around him for more to eat, his dimming sight catching nothing around the vicinity. It was then that he managed to catch sight of something blue, something that didn't look like a rock. He caught sight of his own body.
He stared at his left arm for a long while, and upon processing the fact that it wasn't something that would break his teeth, he bit at it with all his might. He chewed and chewed and chewed, unaware of the pain exploding into his nerves. The thick, crusted skin -which had once endured a deep, vertical stab from his own lakan- tore open like cotton against his fearsome teeth. The strong but depleted flesh divided, and his azure blood splayed out in all directions, momentarily attracting some leeches crawling along a muddy pool.
Some semblance of clarity returned to him when some blood flicked into his right eye, forcing it to contract and shed irritated tears. But even the realization of his self-cannibalism did not deter him from continuing; he was heedless and inexorable, and his reasoning was permanently scarred. He bit on, feeding on his own blood, perhaps hoping that the influx of nutrients and pain would wake him up and restart his senses...
The tears streamed down the Akalak's mossy cheeks as he smothered his mouth with the rancid, sickening taste of his own flesh. Yet Karnelia's cruel visage returned before his eyes, mocking him for his actions, and chiding him for his unforgiveable sins. The sight of her sparked renewed life into his rapidly disintegrating soul. His lips quivered with weakness at the sight of her, yet he kept on chewing his own arm,.unsure of why he was even doing so. He grieved and howled and roared and cursed at Karnelia, unaware that to the rest of the world, he was actually alone in his suffering.
As he morbidly gorged himself on his own blood and flesh, his mind started to crash. Delirium slowly drifted him away, carrying him towards the bittersweet contents of his dying hopes. For one moment he found himself waking in the rolling landscape of Cyphrus, gazing in wonder at the endless blue sky instead of obscure jungle canopies. The smell of the jungle registered itself to him as that of the grasslands so familiar to him, where the thick scent of Glassbeak dung and dead prey intermingled with the coolness of the western winds. He imagined that beyond the jungle foilage hemming him from all sides, glimmered the dry yellow of Cyphrus' summer grass. He lifted his hand limply and touched a long fern leaf, believing it to be a thick shoot of dry grass.
A surge of energy ran through him, and he felt his bony feet come alive. The nightmare was over! He was finally awake! He was so close to home at last, and had finally defeated the pretensions of his dimming mind! Hah! He was on the homestretch, as good as home! Joy welled within the Akalak's heart as he broke into maddened laughter; who then got up to his feet and ran as far and fast as his legs could carry him. The pain wracking his nervous body and the sting of his own forceful bites disappeared instantaneously; the only thought that stole his attention was the wish to consolidate it all upon the sight of that simple arch that bound the outskirts of Kavala's home. He ran on, mindless and dumb, thinking he could almost hear the neighing of Sanctuary's many volatile horses, picturing himself taking a nap on that familiar wooden bench by the door. To complete the mental picture of paradise, the rough but firm hands of its konti proprietor, the final source of meaning to his troubled 200 years of existence, outstretched themselves in the distant hills, the white of her skin gleaming beneath the caramel glare of the afternoon soon. She was urging him to come home.
Yet what was it that he actually saw? What was it that fleeted before his eyes and led him on a wild goose chase? It was a cluster of thorny trees that led to a considerable precipice.
Sorian's joyous running was abruptly cut short when his body weakly registered a series of cuts and stabs all over his body. He could not see -both literally and figuratively- how he was smashing into the thorny trees without care. All he could see was his delirious vision of Kavala with her welcoming embrace, all for him.
It was then that he finished his race. It was then when he reached the vision... And fell into the precipice below.
The apathy of Falyndar's jungles went unmoved, save for a few birds that were flustered enough to fly away as the mighty body came tumbling down the cliff and into a gulf that led out to the Suvan sea.
He had desired sleep and rest, an escape from the fear and pain; and perhaps, just perhaps, he had finally found it. And as surely as the sun shall always rise and fall over the dominions of Myri, there would be no waking for him this time. Not in the claustrophobic grave that was Falyndar, not amidst the verdant trails that led to Sanctuary.
But who's to say that it is the end? Maybe, just maybe, Karnelia was right.
Maybe death is only the beginning.
