“I… let me try again.”
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“I’m sorry, but this is not the correct path.”
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“Let’s… try again.”
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“I’m sorry, but this is not the correct path.”
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“I’m sorry, but this is not the correct path.”
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“...I can do better.”
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“I’m sorry, but this is not the correct path.”
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“I’m sorry, but this is not the correct path.”
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“I’m sorry, but this is not the correct path.”
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“I’m sorry, but this is not the correct path.”
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“I’m sorry, but this is not the correct path.”
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“I’m sorry, but this is not the correct path.”
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“I’m sorry, but this is not the correct path.”
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“I’m sorry, but… how many times do I have to walk this path…”
“How many times what?” asked Sacrosanct.
“...No, nothing… I’m sorry but I cannot tell you.” said a certain mindweaver, “This is for your sake — for everyone’s sake…”
The two were within the libraries of Ziggurat, the maze sprawling far and wide throughout the heavens. This was the city of memories and knowledge, befitting of the one who pursued thoughts. As all libraries should, it acted as a quiet retreat for the two, the dark corridors lit gently with artificial torches. The mindweaver hesitated for a moment, then continued.
“Can you tell me more about your friend June?”
“King June? Uh, sure I guess…”
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Hm… It’s a bit sudden so I’m not sure what to talk about, but I assume you want a story, yes? I mean, everyone wants a story, not the fact that June loved watermelon above all other food stuffs. Let’s see… here’s a good one:
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Great Hero Sacrosanct!
Bonus Episode: “The Man Who Defeated Nature Itself” — Working Title
Written by Sacrosanct
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It was a stormy and dark night, thunderous applause from the gods meant death to the peasants, and the rainwater that fed the crops soon began to flood the cities. It was the dire days, the desperate days, the days-that-were-at-least-better-than-Amstangrad days. Without much to do against the fury of the gods, King June, the great hero Sacrosanct, the advisors and everyone that could make it shivered away within the castle walls. They knew that they would survive — probably — and that this wouldn’t be the end of the kingdom, but it was still a terrible disaster, the consequence of being under fate’s tule.
Sacrosanct believed that all were under nature’s rule, following the natural order, however, he was proven wrong that night, and it all began with a mysterious stranger knocking at the gates…
“Heed! Open! Open sesame! Anyone home?!” shouted the stranger from beyond the gates with voices rivalling the thundering thuders.
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“Let him in!” said June.
With a groan first in strain and second in relief, the door opened as if it was rusted though it was wooden. It presented a tall man — not taller than Sacrosanct — who seemed to be homeless. As a great King, June made sure to help the disenfranchised, so the hero assumed that the man must’ve become homeless this very day as many did. Rain and thunder sneaked through the gap and ruined the carpet, but none cared as they were captured by curiosity.
“...You’re free to stay and have something to drink, and huddle with us like cowardly penguins,” said June, “It’s impressive that you made it through the storm — Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate? — you must be an adventurer — I assume no sugar?”
“Yes sugar,” said the man, “but no, I am no adventurer and I am not here to stay.
I am here to tell you to witness a miracle.”
“...A miracle?”
“What kind of a miracle?” asked Sacrosanct,
“A wanderer’s miracle, a forgotten miracle, miracle you will never see again — so look closely.” said the man as he left the castle.
June was the first to stand from her seat, heading towards the door to witness a miracle’. Sacrosanct followed suit to protect the King if necessary, but he too was curious about what the madman was talking about. If he tried anything suspicious, the hero would deal with him swiftly. However, from his aura, Sacrosanct knew that the man at least had full confidence in himself. The others soon followed, and all were at the door in no time.
Descended on the stairs, the man seemed to cast a spell. It was far too dark to see, but above his right hand, a glowing yellow sphere sparked and flamed, and above his left, a glowing white sphere silently hummed.
First, he sent the yellow sphere hurtling into the stormy clouds, and soon, the shadows dissipated on land and reintroduced the bright sun. It no longer rained, thundered or lightning-ed — that was the first miracle.
Second, the man used the white sphere to attract the water, and the waves followed the object out of the city and into the river as if being led by a man with a fiddle. It was a terrific sight and soon enough, all of the streets were dry — that was the second miracle.
Third and finally, the man performed one last miracle.
“Look closely — really closely,” he said, “this may be the last true miracle you witness in your life.”
His final act was simple — but impossible. He forced the two spheres to combine, creating a black sphere, though it seemed more like empty space. The man lifted the sphere into the sky, and it seemed to grow in proportion as if it wasn’t moving further away.
At first, when it partially blocked the sun, it was as if a partial eclipse was occurring, already a tremendous magic. However, when it became even larger, large enough to cover all light, the man committed the impossible — he had turned day into night.
Without the overwhelming aura of the sun, the residents of the night sky returned to play. The moon, the stars, the planets, they all seemed to shine brighter than ever on this dark day. It was a wonderous sight like that in picture books, and the night sky was mythical with more stars to count than ever before.
“Wow… It’s beautiful…”
However, the experience only lasted a few moments, and as the black sphere returned to its master, the night sky returned its domain to the sun.
“...Well then, I suppose my work here it done,” said the strange mage.
“Wait! What’s your name?” asked June, “I would love to have you as the court mage — or grand mage or something, any name that you want!”
“...Sorry, but you can’t give me what I want.”
“Is it money? Power? O-or me?! Or hot chocolate?!”
The man simply turned back and continued to descend the stairs.
“I will find it someday, perhaps right here, but not today.” said the man, “I will probably never see any of you ever again.”
“Wait, can you at least tell us your name?”
“My name is…”
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“Hm… What was his name again?”
“What?! You’re teasing me aren’t you?”
“No, I’m serious. I really can’t recall — it’s an old story after all,” said Sacrosanct, “when we get out of here, I’ll show you the book she published about her life. It’s a classic so it should still be in libraries — I’m sure the name is in there.”
“Huh… But your story’s true, right?”
“Of course! It’s history!”
“...Well, that’s good to know… Thank you, Sacrosanct, but this is not the correct path.”
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Tiamat was born in a turbulent time. Only 20 years after the Goddess’s sealing, Where had her sister gone? What did she dream of?