Too Awesome for Aardvarks
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Much much later in the timescale
The impenetrable anguish surrounded him; it pierced his heart and darkened the remains of the life within.
From not his land had prepared him for the strife that had consumed his world, nor the suffering of the echelons of hatred.
Began such things in his mind that would forsake the fallen, the tiredness gripped his eyes.
The images of the golden fields, of the silken lady and purest white thoughts, once so clear, but fading, swirled around the shards of his tears. Falling like great rivers from his soul, the betrayed emptiness that crumpled his being from within. A single breath escaped his parched lips. Only the faintest whisper, but more in an instant said than an eon of listening could comprehend.
The finger tightened around the trigger, and the swathes of darkness took him to their brow. Not a single sound heard, free was his spirit from the shackles of the pain he had caused for all he loved. A once strong man, reduced to the aches of old, the days of the imperia sighed, for time had turned against them.
He slipped to the floor, the ground almost catching his fall, a lifeless husk not fit for this world.
Into a time beyond her journeyed away from this place, into the glowing bosom of the warm embrace. Mistakes knew not him, and he know not of the evil that created him. Such beauty was not for his view, saved only for those who had left the great journey destined never to return. The pull of the tide grasped his hand, guiding him away from the blissful grasses that swayed softly in a sweet breeze.
Spoke not in thought but music; he was given the secrets of the world, the things that would not be to a mortal man.
The gods showed not their faces, he knew not if they saw him, or if they guessed his spirit. Only the tight caress of a falling star taking him away.
The lady and white smiled to him, she spoke in the softest tongues of angels into his weary soul, raising it within. Shimmering awe and radiance of legend strayed from her hair, a glade of golden brilliance draped across her shoulders.
Into the next he was not granted, his time was yet to come. The strings within rose from his depths, their weight drawing him from the Eden of the light.
Such drag upon the shifting sands was not for none to decide, taken was he, not the gods or eldest ones could change his path.
Falling through the great chasm, spinning through the over lands and tumbling through the lower. Justice was not his life, neither was peace. One purpose he is to serve, whispered into life.
Dark deeds and hatred reached from him, ever growing the strings clawed into him, pulling him harder towards their biddings.
He slipped and fell, and returned, cast down from the heavens, destined not for the silver lake, but the cold dread of the night.
Until his voyage ended, they would never grant him passage. He would stay until the end, of what it would not be told or known. Forsaken, or released, such things were not for those to decide.
The single breath, never leaving the world, spoke its glory and rushed back to its master. The eldest ones had commanded, the gods had ordered, and it had begun.
Kind of doom and gloom, heaven and hell, grandiose to the max stylee, but hey, first draft.
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