Morgan stood at the foot of the throne in the center of Matahari city, watching the door as the sandstorm outside raged. He could sense the world coming to and end, and all efforts to contact Deserma with inquiries had failed. The queen had disappeared and now showed no signs of returning. Morgan stepped up to the throne and sat on it, ruminating on the irony of sitting on a throne just as the world was coming to an end. He closed his eyes and waited for the sands to begin flowing into the building, accepting the inevitability of his end. As he waited, a voice began to whisper in his ear, slowly growing louder until he was forced to open his eyes to look for the source.
Fret not, son. You can survive this calamity yet, as I did many times before.
Morgan recognized the voice and looked around frantically. He felt a warm presence just off his left shoulder, and turned to look for it, but finding only empty air.
Look harder, I am here, you only need to look and you will see.
Morgan rose from the throne and looked around the back, scrutinizing every nook and cranny. As he rounded the throne dais again he saw a small ball of light floating near the foot. He ran up to it and tried to get close, but it floated a bit away and hovered again before begin to morph shape and elongate. Morgan stared in awe as a familiar shape began to emerge from the ball.
F-father...? Is that you? Can you hear me?he asked nervously, not trusting his own senses.
Yes son, I can hear you. You've grown well, your mother would be so proud.
Do you really care? I know the things you've done, how could you? She always talked about you, you were the best of them, you fought monsters you didn't raise them!all of the stories he'd been told since returning to life came to a head, and the confusion boiled over into shouting. Lochlan looked down, sadness twisting his face for a moment. He walked over to the steps of the dais that held the throne and sat.
Some actions have no excuse. My mind was clouded with anger and hatred, and in that anger I lashed out. I believed your mother dead and the gods responsible. I foresaw Celsun's ultimate victory, and in attempting to stop him I tried to eliminate his targets. I was a fool, and I will pay for the things I've done. Don't let my crimes taint your memory of me, know that every evil I committed I did in the hope of a brighter future for Templehelm.
-to be continued-
Posted Apr 30, 14
· Last edited May 1, 14by Maeread
Morgan and Lochlan were silent for a moment; one barely breathing, the other merely existing. Morgan looked at his father and saw the pain and regret etched onto his face, no signs of the twisted madness that had been described to him so many times by so many people. Lochlan looked at his son, a mixture of pride and pain welling in his heart. To see his son grow to be a man, and yet to know that he had no part in that killed what little was left of his heart. They locked eyes for a moment and then Lochlan looked away.
You should let your hair grow out.he said, idly speaking to mask something else.The men in our family always have. If it weren't so trivial a thing, I would almost call it tradition.
Morgan nodded once, slowly. He continued to look at Lochlan's face, engraving each detail into his memory. He had never really known his father, the brief period they had met before his death was in similar circumstances, one breathing the other not. Morgan felt a twinge of inappropriate irony to think that it wouldn't be complete without a pompous mage crashing the reunion.
What should I do, Father? The world is ending and I feel that I should not merely lay down to fate, though I don't know how to combat the power of the gods.
Lochlan shook his head lightly.
The world is not ending, it is merely being re-formed. My enemies have succeeded and failed in their goals, and the aftermath is what you see before you. Return to our true home until the change is complete, and then if you feel you should, return to Templehelm and take up the legacy I wished to leave behind, one of faith and goodness rather than the tainted scourge that my hands have wrought. In time, you will become the SunWalker - he who brings the guiding light. Deserma is a kind goddess, and she has affection for you and I - even now, in the wake of my sins. Serve her well, that you may become her most enlightened, and bring the light to all places that are dark. Dagda will watch over you, always, and Deserma shall guide you to greatness.
Morgan smiled, a half-smile that barely broke his lips. He felt purpose for the first time, a reason to act and a path to walk. To go where the sun shines and to bring the light to where it does not. Lochlan reached out to stroke his hair as he faded away, and with a last whisper he blessed his son. The last words of Lochlan Maraigh were heard by none, and as Morgan turned once more towards the swirling desert sands, the SunWalker's smile grew. He knelt on the floor and began to inscribe a symbol with a small piece of chalk. When he finished, he took a bit of golden sand from his pocket and placed it in the center. Light flared up from the inscribed design, and as Morgan went to step into it, he rose his voice to the heavens:
To walk in the light, and to bring it where it does not shine. This I swear, this my oath. Deserma, mother of Light, hear my prayer and know that I am yours. When I wake and the storm subsides, the sun will never cease to shine.
He stepped into the circle, and the light grew brighter. Sand poured into the room and began to swirl around Morgan's feet before rising higher and encasing him fully. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms above his chest, and with a smile he drifted to sleep. The wind faded and the swirling sands fell, leaving behind a sandstone sarcophagus etched in prophesy.
Setting sun and shining star
Never again shall the light be barred.
When the winds cease to blow
and the jungles again begin to grow
the Walker wakes and takes his place
beneath the sun, Deserma's Grace.
