The Tale of a Trinacornagon

That which hides in the dark,

pilfering thought and expression

to sate its never-ending thirst.

That which swims in the deep,

filtering the sediment of self,

to bury the ego.

Shade is its home, and Silence is its solace.

And so the heart beats tranquil. Soundless.

And the blood flows slow. Meaningless.

And the body is frozen. Paralysed.

Frost leads to Desolation leads to Revival leads to Resurgence.

And, at last, an Enlightened Revolution.

- Poem titled Golden, author unknown.

***

[Unknown Location, Unitopia]

A long time ago, in an age that has since drifted away, remembered only by the dust that lines the ocean floor. Storm clouds writhed, a grey so dark that it could be called obsidian. Brief flashes of lightning were the only source of illumination, their fractal pattern etching glowing blue veins across the sky.

Crashes of thunder were deafening, accompanied by a continuous onslaught of rain. Uncaring of the plight of those below, the fury of the heavens was unsuppressed, exposed in wrathful glory.

Towering grey cliffs faced out towards the tumultuous ocean, waves the size of buildings crashing into its side with the force of a starship. Yet that craggly face stood firm in the face of that head-on assault, unwilling to bend.

At the edge of that cliff, overlooking the ocean below, stood two figures, wreathed in shadow. The pouring rain did not spare them, yet they stood unsheltered, as if the elements could not harm them whatsoever.

"This is a good place."

A voice spoke out, almost entirely drowned out by heaven's wrath. A second voice replied, its tone heavy and tired.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelFire; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"As good a place as any. Where it all began."

"Or is yet to begin, perhaps."

"Perhaps. Does it really matter?"

"I suppose not..."

The voices went silent, the two figures motionless. One of them, the figure who spoke first, moved slightly, as if withdrawing something. The other sighed, its indistinct shoulders drooping slightly.

"I dreamt of the death of the sun."

The figure listening paused, halfway through his motion of withdrawing. But he remained silent, and the other continued in an exclamatory burst.

"And what rose the next day was a Crimson Eye!"

His statement was accompanied by a dreadful crash of a wave, salty water spraying over the top of the cliff, dousing the two figures. But they paid it no heed.

"You understand, don't you?" the voice continued, pleading. "You know what this means?"

In response, there was only silence. The figure continued his paused motion, withdrawing an indistinct, blurry object.

"No...", the voice trailed off. "You already knew...then..."

At last, the second voice spoke and when it did, its voice felt weighed down by the burden of a world.

"There is no such thing, there never has been and there never will."

"I see," realisation dawned on the first voice. "There can be no attention drawn. I understand."

It paused, before speaking with a finality that brook no rejection.

"Then do what you must. For Unitopia. For Severance."

Without another second's hesitation, the second figure raised that blurry object and brought it down in an instant, severing even the raindrops as they fell. He was silent, as the figure he struck crumbled away, its shadowy mass dissolving into nothing, swept away by the incessant rain.

He placed that object away and, without so much as a backwards glance, turned away from that clifftop. All the while, there was no respite from the ongoing storm. The apathetic skies continue their onslaught on the mortal world, rain washing away all traces of what occurred.

***

"A new beginning."

Re-appearing in a flash of now-familiar light, Jeffbob and Ziriothrax looked over the crashing waves. The sky was clear, the horizon holding the promise of a world unexplored. There were secrets in this place, each of them thought they knew that, but the truth was beyond either of their scope. The world called Unitopia is an enigma yet to be solved, though many have tried.

"From here, there is no path before us. We shall forge it ourselves, little cricket. Though perhaps, with a helping hand or two. The Second Exchange will not fulfill itself, after all."

Ziriothrax oozed with visceral disgust at Jeffbob's sentimentality, spitting the words out.

"So, has something finally coalesced from the treacle you so generously call a mind? An...idea perhaps?"

Laughing off his scathing remarks, Jeffbob replied good-naturedly.

"Nothing of the sort, but perhaps something you would be quite familiar with. We are facing a dark tunnel on a stormy night, and the paths diverge. All passages are identical, leading into shadow, not even a change in the moisture of the air to guide you. How do you choose?"

Jeffbob paused, the answer settling in his mind with unparalleled certainty. All the while, a mad grin split Ziriothrax's face as if a spark of understanding had come to be between them.

"Instinct!"

Turning away from the cliff, looking out at the world spread before them, the two beings took a single step forwards. Unbeknownst to them, a Crow's Feather floated down behind them, landing onto the foamy sea and sinking into its hidden depths.

[End of Volume One: A Bunch of Random Stuff Happens]