...and so it was that finally, after centuries of exploitation and abuse, horror and pain, the Soul of the Mountain fled its home. It fled from /itself/. No one knew exactly when, or how, but over the weeks and months after the Xhosinites started drilling, the Mountain grew still and quiet, and never stirred again.
No one knows where the Soul of the Mountain went, but it is certainly gone now. The Mountain will soon be too, I believe. They’ve been dismembering that stony corpse for over two decades; they cut off its head and blew its pillars and outcrops out from underneath it. They gutted the magnificent creation, plumbing its depths for riches unimaginable. But I fear they will not be sated, that they will continue to pursue their desecration. I fear their greed will consume us all.
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Deeper...
Deeper...
Deeper...they will not take me.
They follow, I know it. Hehehahahahah not for very much longer.....
If they want fire, they shall have it.
If they bring death to me and my home, I shall return in kind.
They will /never/ take me.
I still hear the explosions, I think. I still feel them grinding my bones to dust. They must be following me with that horrible pipe — they can’t not be following me. The grinding, I can hear it; I feel and see it; I taste the explosions in my pores, a strange, acrid and horribly /new/ taste. They must be following me. I know it. They want me for their slave, they all do, they all did. Ever did they take, nothing was ever enough ever enough. The son takes for granted that which was gifted to the father, and the sons and daughters returned endlessly, endlessly asking. Beefing. Stealing and taking and killing. And I tried to stay, I tried to change them. To make them see /me/. But...their greed...their greed...their greed...their greed...
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So far past the roots, forgot how long ago I left...what was the...where am I?
I see stars, I think. Or maybe I’ve forgotten how much I want to see stars. What were they again? Little sparkles above...little vibrations.......grinding. Grinding. Grinding. Grinding. Grinding. Grinding. Grinding. Grinding......
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Light is bad. Light is pain. The pain is the light. The light is pain. Pain is the light Light is the pain Pain is the Light light is pain pain is light light is pain pain is light light is pain pain is light light is pain pain is..........
Pain is....
Pain...
Pain. Pain is....
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Away from that. No no no no no this is wrong I don’t know where I am I am lost am I lost below I am I must be yes I am lost below myself I know it I must be that’s why can’t see or hear or feel.....anything?
Did I ever feel..ever? This...this.....I don’t know....
I am?
I am..?
I am....?
I am........not.
Pain is bad.
Flee the stars. Flee the stars flee feeling flee hearing flee seeing flee love flee the stars flee feeling flee hearing flee sight flee love
and let there be nothing.
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Darkness.
Stillness.
Quiet.
Stillness.
Darkness. Sweet...nothing........................
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Darkness beheld the strange remains of a broken being. Darkness expanded over and inside them, steeping in the old anguish from centuries or millennia of torment. Darkness, eternal, beheld the form of this being when it was proud and just, masterless save unto itself and the sanctity of creation; unstruck. And Darkness /knew/ what had been done to the magnificent being. The assault and abuse and exploitation. They took what they wanted because this awesome creation was too big to stop them. They were the plague that killed this one. This one who knew Light and Dark with love, who watched ageless eons pass in utter awe and stillness. Almost as still as itself, pondered the Darkness with love, remorse, and pity. And, ever eternal, Darkness /knew/ what was to come. The despair. The triumph. The whole.