From the darkness came forth a pillar of light. Then the light cast away the darkness and swallowed everything. From the burning light came forth prayers, and then a screech.

“How could you?” The pained voice of a woman betrayed echoed in the blinding light. “We were supposed to be better!”

“There is no defeating it, don’t you understand that?” The prayer stopped abruptly, replaced by the angry voice of a man, deep and shouting over her. “It will only grow stronger as we grow weaker and as our bones turn to ash.”

“But we can never grow old so long as it still roams,” another man said, calmer but pleading. Then there was a clash of metal against metal. “We were meant to serve and fight!”

“I am done fighting! I am tired of serving!” More sword fighting. The angry man’s voice sounded wounded. “How many of our friends died? How can you keep fighting when the men and women that you’ve shared meals with die right in front of your eyes?! I haven’t even returned to my home to bury my own parents, my brothers and sisters! This is not a blessing, it’s a curse! And I plan to end it.”

“By siding with the Chaos?” the woman screeched. The light pulsed and a wave of energy blew around. There was a sound of a great whoosh, like air and water combined, and then a splash that shook the light.

“By controlling it! Think! It can never truly end so long as there’s harmony, so I’m going to absorb it and use myself as a vessel. Absorb it into blessed flesh!”

“Oswald, please.” A gentler voice this time, A voice so familiar it almost felt like it could have come from my own throat. The light softened, and warmth echoed.

There was nothing but silence, and then the man, Oswald, said firmly, “Stand down.” Then the light turned sunset-red. “I thought you were far away, by now, why did you come back, Gaelmar?”

“We can still make it together. It lies to you, Oswald. That’s what the Chaos does. It lies and sucks on hope. It will twist you into its image until there is nothing left of you.”

Then a feeling came, like a hand reaching out for friendship, a hand that could have shared your burdens if you only let it. But another feeling came: a rebuke of friendship.

“I am stronger than all of you. I can handle it. We’re so near the end, I can feel it. Don’t you want to go back home to your families–to your wife, Edmund? Yours is the city that we’ve been building for the people, the promised kingdom, people say.”

“My wife is very much capable of managing a kingdom. It seems my time as your companion isn’t over yet. Listen to Gaelmar and cease.”

“I will not.”

“Then, so help me, Oswald.”

Then a calm voice echoed and wrapped around the light. “Esmond, Cerelia, stay far away.”

“What are you… no! No, Gaelmar! Stop!”

There were sounds of a scuffle, with a man and woman being hurried away. Their screams of protest grew distant. Gaelmar prayed calmly, while Edmund told him to stop. I heard him beg him and the sound of gagging and punching. But Gaelmar kept the prayer, whispering it over and over again. And then, a piercing sound, and a scream of pain.

“No… no what have I done. I–I didn’t do that! I didn’t–! Gaelmar!”

Gaelmar spoke with his last breaths. He had finished the prayer. “I will keep you all in my heart.” The sound of weeping and of clothes being torn. “I will be with you, brother. I will keep you close.”

___

The light bursts brilliant white again, then fades away, reintroducing darkness. A darkness that seems all so familiar to me, too, a coldness colder than ice. It was quiet, sleeping, biding its time. Total darkness but for one soft light, shaped like a little seed setting on its belly.

So close, it thought. Someone must awaken me. Then, a pain, a searing flashing pain through the darkness. Get out, you stain! Get out of me!

But the seed of light did not leave.

I felt time flowing through. Then a chanting, the one I’ve chanted all this time, from out of the blackness. A crack of lightning and a landscape had formed from the darkness, like curtains parting. There was a cragged mountaintop, a storm howling overhead. In this storm was an old man who was raising both his hands.

The darkness spoke to him.

There are others. Desperate for their desires. Find them and include them in your fold. A churning happened, a sickening, painful churning, a splitting of souls. A howl of pain, like all the shadows of all the ancient boulders and trees collided with one another. Take this filth and carry him with you always. Use him to fuel the sacrifices. Do this until I am strong enough. And then, we shall create the world you envision.

Then I felt power and prayers and other lives. I felt might. I felt dedication. I felt alchemy and hunting and greed. One by one they were introduced to the darkness, each with their own prayers, their own desperate pleas.

Yes, they will do. Build the monasteries in honor of me, Abbott. Let the world know of my influence yet again. The time of Saints has gone. I will make sure that it will never return.

But remember this warning.

Until I am strong enough, do not cross Rothfield.

Do not bring that boy back to his birthplace.