Act One: Materia Prima - Chapter 13

The man did not know what to do. Neither did the girls. Falsk winced and tightened her grip around him. Hrain looked dazed. Mouth agape. The stones’ muttering was mostly unintelligible. Only a few words did he pick up. Rude. Weird. Bad influence. Falsk mover closed to the center of the valley.

“I spoke to the flame! I’m back! What should we do now? I can’t understand anything you are saying.”

The murmuring ceased. Silence. For a moment. Most of the stones continued. This time whispers. Too quiet. Not even fragments were audible anymore. But he recognized the malice in their voices. Resentment. Envy.

One of the visages raised its voice. One that was carved into the cliff in front of them. It told Hrain that it was disappointed in her. That she should not have returned. The mountain face spoke of the tracks laid out for her. Her destiny. Moving forward. Never backward. That to act against it would only lead to tragedy. To darkness. It eyed him. Empty.

Maybe it had been a big mistake to come here. Doubt took root within his mind. He did not speak up. Again? Yes. He also had not done so back then. In the mountains. A long time ago. He had left it to someone else.

Another grimace asked him why he had not acted like he should have. Why he had acted as if he had not noticed her feelings. Why he had left it to the girl. That it would have been his duty. As a boy. It told him that everyone picked on her because of him. Because he was weak.

He pleaded to not be confronted with his failures. That he had forgotten them. He warned the stones of the darkness. That it would return if he tried to remember. The darkness. Hrain looked at him. With glazed eyes. Confused. Falsk loosened her grip.

“Please let me down! I want to return to the house! I don’t like this anymore! Please!”

He sank down. Carefully released her feet. He did not stand up again. Looked down. Heart racing. Had to support himself with one arm. To not collapse. Why though? Guilt! He did not want to remember.

Another face addressed Falsk. Told her that she had arrived too early. That Scild did still relied on others. Scared of them. Of the stones. Of everyone. He tried to face Falsk. She sat there. Hugged her legs. Shook her head. He quickly turned away again. His breath shallow. He did not want to remember.

The second carving spoke again. About the tranquility that lay over the green hills. That it would cease to be. Because of him. That everything would always change. Again and again. It was in his nature. Everchanging. Destructive.

He yelled. In anger? No. Not really. He was too helpless for this emotion. He explained that he had wanted to end it all. That he hoped for everlasting silence. Dreamless sleep. Nothingness. That he was sorry.

The background whispers stopped. The stones giggled. Some outright laughed at him. Mocked him for his cowardice. Told him that there was no escape from what he had done. From what he had to do. He did not want to remember.

He rose to his feet. Looked at Hrain. She evaded his gaze. Looked away. But he had seen the tears. In both of her eyes. He looked at Falsk. She had covered her ears. Eyes shut tight. Lips quivering.

The man begged the mountain to tell him what he had to do. To make it stop. To be free of everything. To let the girls live on in peace. Free of him. As it was supposed to be. The amusement of the stones had died down. The whispers had returned. Not with malice. Worse. With pity. Disgust. Chagrin.

Then they spoke. All at once. Made the earth shake once more. The grotesque faces commanded him to remember. Told him that the girls would never see another day. Regardless of his inaction. He heard a sob. From Hrain. He faced her again. This time she held his gaze. Did not avoid him. Eyes not glazed anymore. But blazed curiosity.

“What did you forget? What did you lose? I don’t want to, but I need to know!”

He tried to focus on her face. To recognize it. He tried so hard. Images flashed through his mind. Small snippets of memories. A fence? Yes! A fence! They had built one. A trip. To the mountains. He had avoided her. A night in a hotel. Total vulnerability. Innocence. Shame. Guilt. Hurt.

Pain struck him down. And in the blink of an eye the mountains were gone. The faces. The voices. The girls. In their place it had returned. No. He had returned to it. It was his anchor. It suffocated the skies. Drowned the oceans. Buried the earth. His long shadow. Black spores. Black goo. True black.

He did not lay on his back. Not this time. He was standing upright. This was no place to justify himself. His continued existence. The darkness caressed and scourged his mind. Tore him apart. And mended his flesh.

It was not raining. It was pouring. Black drops danced around him. Spiteful. Venomous. He could not care less. A familiar voice returned to him. Crumbling paper. Tearing fabric. Gnashing teeth. Breaking bones.

It taught him about the futility of following the instructions of the stones or the fire. That the next scene would be one of its favorites. A lesson in humility. So that he would no longer tempt fate.

He smiled. Fake. Said that he was thrilled for the spectacle. There was nothing left inside him. He was so tired. But did not feel it. The voice praised him. That he had to continue. To be a good actor. That he had to perform. To not let his audience down.

It laughed. Gloated. Its cruelty crawled under his skin. There was no air left to breath. He did nothing. Did not even bother to close his eyes. Let it happen. To get it over with. This time there would be no light.

-

No time passed.

-

The man felt no warmth. Opened his eyes. He lay in a room. In a bed. The space dimly lit with a candle. He faced a big window. It was strange. Felt uncanny. He sat up. Rushed toward the casement. Opened it. Looked outside. This was the house. Upon the green hills.

Was it night? There should be no night! Not in this world. Right? No sun. No moon. No stars. Just everlasting bright blue. It was supposed to be. But this day had passed. It seemed so. Darkness had fallen.