Brian Rathbone - The Dawning of Power

Willing herself closer, she hovered above the odd structure. It was not tall; in fact, it seemed only to form a stable platform. At its center, though, lay the partially exposed skeletal remains of a giant creature. Catrin became excited when she realized this was the beast the monks had reported, and she tried to commit as many details as possible to memory for the sake of Brother Vaughn.

It seemed odd that there were no workers busy uncovering the rest of the beast, and she looked, once again, at the line of people. They continued past the man-made plateau, as if the ancient remains were of no interest. They wound around the mountain to the opposite face. The southern face was nearly whole, with one notable exception. Nearly halfway to its peak, a large section of rock had been torn asunder, leaving a gaping chasm. An eerie glow emanated from the chasm, and it was there the throng congregated, their faces reflecting the ominous light.

Fear and uncertainty crawled across Catrin's consciousness, and she could almost feel the hairs on her physical body rise. A faint urging called her back to her body, but she pulled away, needing to see the source of the bizarre light. She hovered closer to the chasm, past the enraptured faces, until she was directly above it. There, staring back at her was the face of a goddess, larger than a giant and throbbing with inner light. The sight shocked her, and for a few moments, she wondered what it could possibly be. When the realization came, it blotted out all thought and all other possibilities. It left no room for doubt or conjecture; it was as certain as the sunrise.

It was one of the Statues of Terhilian, the bane of humanity.

Cold realization after cold realization slammed into her consciousness, and she reeled in horror, suddenly wishing she had been more attentive during her lessons. Before her was the greatest threat to ever face her world, and it looked as if the Zjhon were determined to exhume it. If what she had been taught was true, the statue would charge in the light of Istra and Vestra; then it would detonate. She did not know what the scale of the explosion would be, but the vision her mind created made her quail. A deceitful weapon, left over from a war long past, once again threatened all life on Godsland.

A strange wrongness floated to Catrin along the thread of energy that led back to her body. It felt of worry, anxiety, and mostly fatigue. With a final glance at the face of Istra and the bones of the beast, she stored as many details as she could then started her retreat. Intent on returning with all due haste, she raced along her thread. It was taut and straight as the path of an arrow, and she let the tension of it guide her.

The resonance of the melody changed suddenly, and her thread of energy wavered and went slack. It was a frightening sensation, but it lasted only a moment before the harmony became strong once again-different, but strong. With renewed vigor, she pulled herself along, the land rushing away beneath her. Once she moved back to the east side of the Inland Sea, she soared north.

Giggle.

Catrin cast about her, trying to locate the source of the strange, disembodied voice when it sounded again.

Giggle.

This time Catrin sensed the direction the noise came from, and she scanned with her senses. A male energy, full of mischief and humor, soared alongside her. She could not see anything to indicate the presence, but she could feel it, taunting her, constantly flitting away from her scrutiny.

Consumed by her desire to return to Ohmahold, Catrin tried to ignore the entity and continued watching the horizon, but the land seemed to crawl past her now, as if she were flying through mud.

The impish presence followed her, and she felt a change come over it: shame, grief, regret, and anger all flowed freely. The feelings struck her, and she felt pity. No one should have to feel so much pain without consolation, and that was the prevailing undercurrent: No one cares. No one will comfort me. No one loves me. I am no one.

It was painful, even from the outside, and Catrin changed her approach. She poured love and understanding toward the wayward energy, and it responded to her with disbelief, but she continued to convey kindness and caring.

Confusion, helplessness, and a deep wave of regret slammed into Catrin. She felt as if the entity were resisting someone-not her, it was someone else. She could feel the presence by proxy, through the reactions of the anonymous energy. The reactions were childlike, and Catrin suddenly realized she was dealing with a young energy, one that was being coerced. She decided anonymity was a barrier that hampered communication, but when she asked for a name, she received shame and grief in return-no name.

Catrin tried to understand how it would feel to have no name, and she was overcome with compassion. Everyone deserved a name, and she was determined to name the energy, to give him something to hold on to, something around which he could build his own identity. A name was more than a label or moniker. It was the center of one's perception of one's self. It was indelible and, once given, could never be taken away. All of this, she conveyed while searching for the right name.

Prios. A name of power, of that Catrin was certain. She wasn't certain it had any true meaning, but to her, it meant strong of heart. She conveyed this as best she could, and the response she received was one of great honor, but it was short lived.

Pain. Fear. Regret.

Confusion washed over Catrin, but now it was her own. The world seemed to twist and veer beneath her, and the link to her body went slack. In an instant, it became tangled and knotted, and she tumbled out of control. Panic clutched her, and she could feel the wrongness in her tangled lifeline. Prios battered her with energy, and whenever she seemed to have righted herself, he sent her spinning again. Light and dark fluctuated around her, as if the sun and moon had suddenly sped up, and she was helpless to stop it.

In a desperate attempt to dissuade him, she sent forth the mental image of her mother and, more generally, the feeling of unconditional love-the feeling she got when she delved into her earliest memories: mother, safety, warmth, caring, all wrapped up in single-minded intent.

Searing pain. Loss. Regret.

The feelings pummeled her until she relented, and she realized that Prios had relented as well. He was gone, no trace of his energy remained, but the damage was done. Catrin had no idea where she was or how to find her way back. To make matters worse, she sensed pain from her physical body and suddenly knew she was near death. If she did not get back soon, she would never be able to return. It was not just a feeling she had; she could almost hear someone shouting the words at her, repeatedly, like a mantra.

Scanning the landscape below, she saw no snow, only brownish farmland, and she guessed she was still in the south. A glimpse of the sun gave her a bearing on direction as it set at its normal, inexorable pace. She moved north with all the speed she could muster, but the tangle of energy still connected to her body slowed her even as it grew weaker. Snow appeared on the ground below, and her hope was renewed.

When the northern coast of the Greatland loomed on the horizon, she urgently turned east. Mountains pierced the clouds ahead, and she could almost feel the closeness of her body as it called to her in its final throes of life. She felt herself begin to waver and focused all the energy that remained in her. The vibrations took on new intensity, as if the monks knew she was preparing one final attempt to return.

Soaring toward the mountains, she moved faster, now guided by the pain and tingling of her physical form. She was close, and the closer she drew, the more intensely she felt the discomfort. It was strange to seek out pain when her instinct was to avoid it, but it was preferable to the encroaching numbness. In this case, pain meant life, and she hurtled toward it. Cold stone stood before her, an impenetrable barrier, but she passed through it without the slightest lessening of speed. It granted her passage without complaint.