Glade 38th, 4622
Salen lay there waiting in the pure darkness; knowing it was inevitable that he would be within a dark corner of the world. His eyes were so used to the darkness that he could see shadows within the room. The cold damp dripping of water can be heard within the silence as if the sounds tortured him. The sounds of captivity. Loss. The sounds that echoed within the walls of the forsaken room that he was kept in; bound by chains, like a beast in the dark. It appeared that he would have given up. Given up on his ambition all together.
He laid there was he listened to the dripping, knowing he had been kept within the shackles; but they weren’t made from any magical suppressive material. He could still channel his ether to produce his magic. It was then, he closed his eyes; the mark between his scalp lit up a bright lilac light which glowed fluorescently in the darkness. Should he go back within the dreamscape? Where danger would lie, knowing that he would be a mile away from his stay of execution. It was inevitable, it would be better to know the truth than to die, knowing that it would be the last thing he would ever see.
Liberation.
That was all Salen wanted.
To be liberated from the struggles of power, that draw a line between society and true freedom. He valued freedom as much as anyone, but his purpose was to attain it through the power balance. Perhaps that’s why Brazim chose him. To torture him with broken dreams and promises that would never be fulfilled. It was this prospect that frightened him further as he layed in the cold dark room, curled in a fetal position as he felt the shivers down his spine. It circulated through his bare chest.
He closed his eyes and channeled his ether, before the world changed around him. To an empty land; a desert. A barren land of his own dreams, aspirations. A great reminder that would never be open as the Reverie was opened to him once again. This time, he was in the vicinity of another mindscape.
Curiosity.
It struck him like a knife into his chest, knowing how much pain the lies of Dahlia’s name had caused him. Was it Dahlia’s Memory Palace? He opened the double doors as he entered a palace-like structure laced with paintings of her own self-image as he was approached by a maid with the similar looks, identical to Dahlia’s appearance “Can I get you anything, sir?” She asked in a pleasant tone, unlike Dahlia’s arrogant characteristics that she displayed. She was much more amiable, pleasant, but all that would change when the queen came down the stairs.
She appeared to be angry, the dark cloud of nightmare hovered over her as she strutted towards Salen in anger “Who are you?” She asked in a thunderous tone, as if her anger was brought out by the mere intrusion of the man’s company. It was as if he wasn’t welcome inside his memory palace. Most experienced Remnomancers knew how to protect themselves from other Remnomancers, especially those of Salen’s ilk who were learning the arts, concepts and theories behind the magic.
It appeared the curiosity had gotten the better for him at this moment as he was suddenly surrounded by nightmarish guards, he could feel the rising feeling of dread as they attacked him and pushed him out of her mindscape. He could feel his head pound as he felt the force of the guards push him out, as if they were equipped with the abilities of a mentalist. He knew now what Dahlia had craved, judging by the shape of her memory palace. She craved power. She was thirsty for it. She wanted to dominate the world by manipulating it to her will.
Salen knew that moment as he was still recovering from the bouts of headache he had. He found himself back in his own mindscape, yet something strange appeared to be happening within the distance of the desert his mindscape was. A plain simple land as he saw a shining star ahead. The mindscape’s landscape began to change as the desert shifted it’s form into something more fancy, crystalline and elaborate.
The Hall of Mirrors.
The first foundations of his mindscape were built, through exploring another person’s mindscape. The Mirrors that glowed elaborately as it was an endless corridor of crystalline mirrors. Which mirror contained the memories that he was looking for? It would be a mystery, but he had to explore to find the truth. Whatever it may be. He knew it was somewhere.
Salen walked along the corridor as he looked around, he noticed a mirror with the image of his previous lover. It was three years ago since he had seen him, but yet he had vanished. Dahlia claimed he left him to explore the continent without him. He knew with Dahlia’s manipulative ways she was lying. He could feel her lies tingle down her spine. They made him sick. Sick to his stomach. There was still that memory that was familiar to him. The precious moment where love had been young, now exasperated by perturbation as the loss caused him to close off from people.
What could he have done to deserve such a fate?
What did he do to the world that brought him into a deep sadness?
He channeled more ether into the mirror, before feeling himself strain slightly as he preserved the memory of his first kiss. It was the mirror that he had chosen to pervade with a memory as he continued to explore his mindscape. Part of his hallways appeared to be cracked slightly, as if they were tampered with before.
He was shocked.
Was another Remnomancer tampering with his mindscape? He had to know, there wasn’t any question that there was years of damage inflicted upon him. Salen saw it for himself and in the darkest of days there may have been other victims of this damage. Was there a memory he was meant to forget?
“Dahlia.” He spoke.
The vengeful hatred in his eyes glared back as he wanted to recover the memory. He channelled more ether into his abilities, casting Junction to try and regain the memory he had lost.
It was no use.
He strained further as he stopped. He felt himself already hurting from the amount of ether he had consumed “No use wasting my energy on some useless bitch who does nothing but command. Fucking Entente scum.” He spat out as he cursed. Salen realised his hatred for the Entente deepened as he was in control by them all his life. Including when he was ‘free.’
The truth was that he was living a dog's life, serving the whims of the Entente by using two faiths to dominate and control the wills of those who worship the faiths of the Omen and the Path. He now realized he needed to liberate himself by serving his own whims and achieving his own goals.
As the badlanders said, religion is like a phallus, it's a fine thing to take pride in, but at the end of the day if waved in someone’s face long enough it starts becoming a problem. It was an issue for Salen clearly as he was tired of being the underdog. He could feel the mirrors around him, giving him all kinds of messages to his brain. It was his mind after all. He had control over it.
Or so he thought.
There was still a Remnomancer that raided minds, like an infectious pustule; an ounce of pestilence that was rotting away at Salen’s mind, the more he confided in Dahlia. He had to get away, like he tried to once.
To gain control once again would be his future goal.
Salen lay there waiting in the pure darkness; knowing it was inevitable that he would be within a dark corner of the world. His eyes were so used to the darkness that he could see shadows within the room. The cold damp dripping of water can be heard within the silence as if the sounds tortured him. The sounds of captivity. Loss. The sounds that echoed within the walls of the forsaken room that he was kept in; bound by chains, like a beast in the dark. It appeared that he would have given up. Given up on his ambition all together.
He laid there was he listened to the dripping, knowing he had been kept within the shackles; but they weren’t made from any magical suppressive material. He could still channel his ether to produce his magic. It was then, he closed his eyes; the mark between his scalp lit up a bright lilac light which glowed fluorescently in the darkness. Should he go back within the dreamscape? Where danger would lie, knowing that he would be a mile away from his stay of execution. It was inevitable, it would be better to know the truth than to die, knowing that it would be the last thing he would ever see.
Liberation.
That was all Salen wanted.
To be liberated from the struggles of power, that draw a line between society and true freedom. He valued freedom as much as anyone, but his purpose was to attain it through the power balance. Perhaps that’s why Brazim chose him. To torture him with broken dreams and promises that would never be fulfilled. It was this prospect that frightened him further as he layed in the cold dark room, curled in a fetal position as he felt the shivers down his spine. It circulated through his bare chest.
He closed his eyes and channeled his ether, before the world changed around him. To an empty land; a desert. A barren land of his own dreams, aspirations. A great reminder that would never be open as the Reverie was opened to him once again. This time, he was in the vicinity of another mindscape.
Curiosity.
It struck him like a knife into his chest, knowing how much pain the lies of Dahlia’s name had caused him. Was it Dahlia’s Memory Palace? He opened the double doors as he entered a palace-like structure laced with paintings of her own self-image as he was approached by a maid with the similar looks, identical to Dahlia’s appearance “Can I get you anything, sir?” She asked in a pleasant tone, unlike Dahlia’s arrogant characteristics that she displayed. She was much more amiable, pleasant, but all that would change when the queen came down the stairs.
She appeared to be angry, the dark cloud of nightmare hovered over her as she strutted towards Salen in anger “Who are you?” She asked in a thunderous tone, as if her anger was brought out by the mere intrusion of the man’s company. It was as if he wasn’t welcome inside his memory palace. Most experienced Remnomancers knew how to protect themselves from other Remnomancers, especially those of Salen’s ilk who were learning the arts, concepts and theories behind the magic.
It appeared the curiosity had gotten the better for him at this moment as he was suddenly surrounded by nightmarish guards, he could feel the rising feeling of dread as they attacked him and pushed him out of her mindscape. He could feel his head pound as he felt the force of the guards push him out, as if they were equipped with the abilities of a mentalist. He knew now what Dahlia had craved, judging by the shape of her memory palace. She craved power. She was thirsty for it. She wanted to dominate the world by manipulating it to her will.
Salen knew that moment as he was still recovering from the bouts of headache he had. He found himself back in his own mindscape, yet something strange appeared to be happening within the distance of the desert his mindscape was. A plain simple land as he saw a shining star ahead. The mindscape’s landscape began to change as the desert shifted it’s form into something more fancy, crystalline and elaborate.
The Hall of Mirrors.
The first foundations of his mindscape were built, through exploring another person’s mindscape. The Mirrors that glowed elaborately as it was an endless corridor of crystalline mirrors. Which mirror contained the memories that he was looking for? It would be a mystery, but he had to explore to find the truth. Whatever it may be. He knew it was somewhere.
Salen walked along the corridor as he looked around, he noticed a mirror with the image of his previous lover. It was three years ago since he had seen him, but yet he had vanished. Dahlia claimed he left him to explore the continent without him. He knew with Dahlia’s manipulative ways she was lying. He could feel her lies tingle down her spine. They made him sick. Sick to his stomach. There was still that memory that was familiar to him. The precious moment where love had been young, now exasperated by perturbation as the loss caused him to close off from people.
What could he have done to deserve such a fate?
What did he do to the world that brought him into a deep sadness?
He channeled more ether into the mirror, before feeling himself strain slightly as he preserved the memory of his first kiss. It was the mirror that he had chosen to pervade with a memory as he continued to explore his mindscape. Part of his hallways appeared to be cracked slightly, as if they were tampered with before.
He was shocked.
Was another Remnomancer tampering with his mindscape? He had to know, there wasn’t any question that there was years of damage inflicted upon him. Salen saw it for himself and in the darkest of days there may have been other victims of this damage. Was there a memory he was meant to forget?
“Dahlia.” He spoke.
The vengeful hatred in his eyes glared back as he wanted to recover the memory. He channelled more ether into his abilities, casting Junction to try and regain the memory he had lost.
It was no use.
He strained further as he stopped. He felt himself already hurting from the amount of ether he had consumed “No use wasting my energy on some useless bitch who does nothing but command. Fucking Entente scum.” He spat out as he cursed. Salen realised his hatred for the Entente deepened as he was in control by them all his life. Including when he was ‘free.’
The truth was that he was living a dog's life, serving the whims of the Entente by using two faiths to dominate and control the wills of those who worship the faiths of the Omen and the Path. He now realized he needed to liberate himself by serving his own whims and achieving his own goals.
As the badlanders said, religion is like a phallus, it's a fine thing to take pride in, but at the end of the day if waved in someone’s face long enough it starts becoming a problem. It was an issue for Salen clearly as he was tired of being the underdog. He could feel the mirrors around him, giving him all kinds of messages to his brain. It was his mind after all. He had control over it.
Or so he thought.
There was still a Remnomancer that raided minds, like an infectious pustule; an ounce of pestilence that was rotting away at Salen’s mind, the more he confided in Dahlia. He had to get away, like he tried to once.
To gain control once again would be his future goal.
