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*Small hands, scraped and bleeding grip the boulder high above the camp. Pain eaking up scratched arms. She could hear them below... discussing the fate that would soon come.
Echidnae was coming. There would be a 'celebration' to herald her arrival.
She winced, scrubbing away a tear. The Storyteller had spoken often of the darkness of Echidnae, the great Spider Queen and her hunger for blood. Some stories even claimed she drank it... bathed in it...
She felt a lump rising in her throat, a tremulous urge in her belly to heave. She shook her head once forcefully, squeezing her eyes shut.
She had to focus.
Eyes opening slowly, a shift in vision from the devastation below to fall upon the book splayed open before her. The crude sketches of the cave's depth, the notes from her Teachings, the memoirs of her dreams... Drawings of many-legged beasts, eyes of light, winged creatures, sacrifice and birth- yet not as a woman gives birth... but an abberration.
-Abomination-
She heard her father's scream, his furious eyes glaring at her...
He could not see... they could not see...
But the Ancients had known.
She had tried to warn them... The Seer had cried out- and was mocked and sent away, silencing him.
He had failed.
Now she... she had failed.
Stones gripped in her fist, aching to throw them.. to pummel from above the desecration below. But that would be foolish...
They believed her dead... gone... a feast for the Xy'mith and Koreni within the jungle...
A sacrifice...
'You must run! Hide! Fear not the Truth, for it comes for you! Embrace the Truth, young Seeker- for if you do not, it will be silenced forever... and Justice shall ever be unmet...'
Wild eyes, rolling in his skeletal face. Wild hair, waving arms covered in the sacred tattoos of his Training.
Much like the one she was given the day she was Chosen.
And now... the acolyte must be the Seeker, the Source... She Who Remembers... the Healer of All Things.
'In you, rest our hopes, A'alen!'
She swallowed, pushing back several locks of sweaty hair from her face, her eyes drifting to the remains of her village below.
Nae, It was better to believe her dead.. to forget about her...
Only as the Forgotten, the Lost... might she petition the gods.. the Ancient Ones... to show her the way to free them all..
She closed her eyes, taking strength in the Histories. The Stories had been full of great missions of salvation and glory... of redemption and reclamation of what was lost and forgotten. She would be the one to bring them to life.
She... would be the one to save them...
... for no other could.
She could hear faint rumbling, feel the minute after tremors under her skin, but she had no strength to move. Weak and battered, she felt frozen in place, helpless against what was to come. She took in a deep breath, only to cough and retch violently as the blood and dirt choked her.
More gravel and dust trickled onto her face, but she no longer cared. There was no thought to brushing it off her face... her hand lifting just enough to perform the action before resting once more in a pool of tacky blood. Her knees scraped the stone floor briefly in reflex, her body tensing before sinking once more into unconsciousness.
All that was real.. was the dream...
That was all that was ever real...
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