Bard Constantine
The Eye of Everfell
Map of Erseta
"…While the sky rumbles louder, and
the storm meets the sea in
a clash of elemental fury, the
sun softly kisses the faded
scars on your skin.
Your eyes speak of pain and joy and
sorrow and triumph, the
ghosts of dead dreams sparkle in
the scorn of your gaze, and
if I could change I would
change for your smile; and
if I could die I would
die to your laughter."
Prelude: Masiki
The Man with Mirrored Eyes floated in a cocoon of music. The sight could be described no other way. He hovered horizontally in the middle of an unfurnished white room: no gilding, no carpeting, not a single stick of furniture. His black robes starkly contrasted to the room's brilliance, illumination that came seemingly from nowhere. Long, inky hair haloed his head as though he were underwater; his eyes were closed, his arms outstretched, his fingers directing the waves of sound that pulsed across the chamber.
Glyphs span around him in interlocking circles, characters of Apokrypy that shimmered in shades of vibrant color with every radiant note. Masiki stared, unashamed of her openmouthed astonishment. She was considered proficient in Apokrypy to the point of mastery, but what she witnessed was impossible to duplicate, or even fully comprehend for that matter. Controlling so many characters at once was much like gazing at the stars and interpreting an entire language from their arrangements. That kind of power could be used to topple kingdoms, alter the natural landscape of one's surroundings, even toy with the very fabric of reality.
He used it to create music.
The characters trickled across the air in rapid succession, each sequence indicating a different wave of instrumental sounds. Masiki had no idea how much time had been devoted to building such an intricate composition or even what form of music it was, only it was complex beyond imagining. She heard the strings, drums, horns, woodwinds, and sounds she could not even identify, all in perfect concert as The Man with Mirrored Eyes weaved his Craft in the musical form of molten gold to her ears. The notes soared, fireflies of melodic characters danced around him until he was nearly lost in the cloud of flickering Glyphs. The sound washed over and carried Masiki in its current until she was not aware of anything but the haunting melody…
Memories sprang from her mind unsummoned. Before the armies and fire, before streams of blood muddied the fields. She recalled flying along the seashore, the laughter in her voice as she frolicked with her brothers and sisters. The waves washed in azure shades, the taste of salty mist danced on her tongue…
She wasn't aware she wept on her knees until the music finally faded like a dying storm.
She heard his footsteps approach, but couldn't stop sobbing. There was a hole inside where the music had lived, a gaping wound it carved as it passed along its way. The melodies didn't just conjure up old memories as much as reanimate them, resurrecting details long forgotten in a manner so potent it felt more genuine than the reality. Every time she tasted the melodies he crafted, notes she could only describe as celestial, the result was the same. Sorrow and joy, loss and triumph twined together in one soul-shuddering package.
He gently touched her shoulder. The pain slowly lessened, the cavity of emptiness filled with his power, his irresistible presence. She clutched the hand that touched her and looked up into the transparent eyes of her Master.
Masiki had never seen anyone with irises like his. They were devoid of color, only distinguished from the whites because they were highly reflective, like polished mirrors. The pupils were eclipsed moons, black pits haloed by silvery brilliance.
"I did not know you had returned." Even his voice was filled with music. It was mellifluous, almost hypnotic in tone. "I would not have subjected you to my composition unprepared."
Masiki hastily wiped her face. "I did not wish to disturb you, Master. In truth, I wanted to listen. I…cannot express how beautiful it is. I always wish it would never end."
His smile caused her heart to quicken until it hurt. "I am grateful for your company, Masiki. It is ever lonely in this place without the presence of other intelligent beings."
She could only imagine. With only speechless creatures outside for company, she did not see how he had not been driven to madness ages ago.
"I have done as you commanded, Master. The fires started long ago have spread as you predicted. Soon they will rage beyond control."
His lips quirked. "Of course they will. Humankind is ever driven by storm and flame. They rage and blow about, heave and crash, burn and destroy. They will take what transpires as chaotic happenstance. By the time they discover it is manipulated, it will be too late."
Masiki did not question him. His plans were as complex as the threads of music he composed, perhaps even more so. She was content to remain on her knees and watch as a table suddenly materialized before him. There was no sensation, no way to discern the Crafts he wielded. Nature, reality — nothing was a bar to the feats he performed seemingly with the greatest ease. He could do anything, she realized. Nothing was impossible for him.
Except to escape the prison he was trapped in.
On the table was a turanga board with intricately carved figures, arranged as though he played against an unseen opponent. He picked up one of the pieces, an armored knight with an upraised sword.
The Warrior.
"How ironic," The Man with Mirrored Eyes said. "The very one who delivered you to me will set into motion the events that will lead to my freedom. What would he think if he knew the consequence of his actions? If he knew whom it was he negotiated with when he brought you to me?"
He returned the piece, and slowly picked up another, carved into a woman with a staff. "But before the Warrior can come into play, the Maiden must precede him. It has been the condition of man since the dawn of their time. No matter how they imagine otherwise, it is the female who leads. This one is close. It is time to activate the Eye of Everfell."
He placed the figure back on the board. The wall behind him shimmered and became transparent, revealing the view beyond. Masiki wanted to close her eyes, but would not shame herself before her Master. She forced herself to rise and stand beside him.
The Man with Mirrored Eyes looked beyond the view as though seeing the promise of emancipation to come. "So long. So long since I have been kissed by a cool breeze, or enjoyed the taste of rain. You are my deliverance, Masiki. After tilling and planting for ages, my seeds finally bear fruit. Soon my bonds will wither like dry grass, and I will feel the wind on my face again. The day comes swiftly, Masiki. I will touch the world once more, and bring the storm against those who betrayed me."
His eyes glazed as his mind drifted to the realm of bygone memory. Masiki was left free to shudder at the sight she never became accustomed to. No matter how many times she returned, the view of the landscape outside always gripped her heart like squeezing fingers. Always struck her cold with fear.
The world was on fire.
Jagged, broken fingers of ebony stone jutted haphazardly in chaotic formations. Black-armored figures were barely distinguishable against the rocky backdrop as they toiled at their tasks, while creatures on leathery wings sailed across the flaming horizon. Flaring scars of pitch crisscrossed the blackened rock, and smoke roiled upward endlessly toward a sky as red as the rivers, a sky that roared with shifting masses of eternal flame.