jon_chaisson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jon_chaisson) wrote2010-07-16 08:46 pm
jon_chaisson) wrote2010-07-16 08:46 pm
Entry tags:
[eden cycle] A Division of Souls, Prologue
Finally! Just finished what had to be one of the most intense (and protracted) series of writing sessions I've had in quite awhile, and I think I'm happy with how it came out. Sure, it could still do with a bit of tidying up, but it sounds a million times better than the original. Hope you enjoy it!
PROLOGUE
It’s time to wake them up, he thought.
Nehalé Usarai let out a slow, even breath and hugged himself close as the cool night breeze pushed up against his body, fighting off the cold and a bout of vertigo at the same time. The view from the ninety-second floor maintenance walkway, only three-fifths of the way to the Mirades Tower’s zenith, was more breathtaking than he’d ever imagined, and it was a pity that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it for much longer. He’d seen it plenty of times from the vidmat images and the tour guides, but it was nothing compared to seeing it with his own eyes.
The northern half of the Bridgetown sprawl was laid out before him, the lighted geometry of streets and buildings glowing with life, both physical and spiritual. Main boulevards and groundways sliced through the congested city, dimly lit to a calming coppery hue from the streetlights, muting the harsh white of the vehicle lights. People from all walks of life were scattered along the sidewalks, even at this time of night, keeping the vibe alive. Buildings of all sizes and shapes sprang up around him, the tallest of them within a mile or so from the Tower, the smaller ones further on. The sprawl reached a good five miles further out, stopping abruptly at the Tagum mountain range--the Wilderlands, as they were commonly called--that bordered the northern edge and rolled gently down towards the ocean to his right. To the extreme northwest, just past the LektroYards power grid wedged into an elbow of tall hills, he could see the flat and currently quiet Nullport, the air and space landing zone for Bridgetown’s travelers. And in between all of these major points of reference, hundreds of thousands of people lived in apartments, condominiums, warehouses, lofts, and houses. He could only wonder how it felt to know, to sense all of these people, to know that that they were alive and breathing. The dueling emotions he felt from this view pushed at each other: the awe he felt as he witnessed the beauty of this city…and the sadness he felt at its falling so short of being paradise.
Citizens were out en masse on this humid Friday night. The late summer weather had brought out all sorts of people from the myriad walks of life that inhabited this world. The humans, the Meraladians, the Mannaki...a cultural and spiritual interchange that made up life on Earth--on Gharra. The limitless potential of the millions who lived in this central sprawl overwhelmed his sense of being. Any one of these people could spiritually and intellectually expand themselves. Nehalé smiled as he looked out over the city. If only they knew how lucky they are to have all of this, he thought. This land has never been more culturally and spiritually alive!
Underneath it all, the city’s lifeline brimmed with nervous electricity, close to overflow. Nehalé had waited patiently for that breach every night for the past two months, from various positions within the city, studying it intently. It hadn’t taken long for him to figure out the sprawl’s heartbeat--its ebb and flow of energy, both emotional and otherwise--and after all those nights, he’d come to the conclusion that the Mirades Tower really was the epicenter, the ground zero...the Stone of Gharra, as some Meraladhza called it. Nowhere else in this city was there such a heavy concentration of spiritual lifeflow that kept the city alive and thriving. It would be the perfect vantage point for an Awakening. Close enough for him to watch in detail and get the maximum coverage, and far enough away from her that she would not be harmed in the process. All of his senses were at full throttle now; every breath, every heartbeat, every emotion in this city, including his own, was his to hear and feel, to sense and experience, once the ritual started. Had he chosen to be on the ground, the sudden influx of emotions and energies into his own spiritsensing would have killed him instantly. Up here, he’d be a safe distance away when the time came.
He glanced at his watch and saw he still had plenty of time before he needed to perform the ritual. He thought again of his ancestors and their plans for this city...back then, when the Mirades Tower was merely a humble eight-five story skyscraper, and the first Meraladian landers had proclaimed it to be the Stone of Gharra, the Center of Earth. That wasn’t meant as an impressive proclamation, though...it was just their choice of base once they first landed. It wasn’t even the true touchdown spot--the true landing was a good few miles northwest of the Tower, out in the dunes in a nearly-forgotten corner of the Nullport. The Tower was just the base of operations once their era began.
The Meraladian Era. Nehalé’s lips formed a lopsided grin every time he thought of that hackneyed phrase used by historians. alaiadh dayen-ne si Gharra was more like it--"new knowledge for Earth", roughly translated. The former suggested cold, analytical study, not to mention possible connotations that the Meraladhza had taken over. But he never let that bother him...the Gharné would come around soon enough.
But for such a peace-loving race, the Meraladians had either a death wish or a penchant for looking a challenge squarely in the face. There were turbulent moments in that history, and there were also many years of peace. Two centuries later, and the Earth humans still weren't quite sure what to make of them, other than just another group of human-looking people, most with paraphysical abilities of some sort, wedging themselves into place within the Sprawl. Perhaps they were still a little afraid? If so, that particular emotion had been suppressed to the point that it was undetectable by any sensitive. Acceptance of aliens among humans had come fast, and curiously little fanfare or violence. They understood the Meraladzha posed no threat whatsoever--they just were, and humans accepted them. Nehalé chose to half-believe the theory that the human race as a whole had been humbled, once they had finally been given proof of extra-terrestrial intelligence.
It wasn't until a few years after the Landing that humans received their first shock: the revelation of a distant blood relationship between Meraladians and themselves. They had purposely held this bit of information back until humans felt ready for it. Scientists balked at the possibility, then rejoiced when proof was given. Religions all over the world rejoiced, and quite unexpectedly. Perhaps it was proof of a godlike existence in this universe, and not just on this planet. Nehalé never quite found the answer to that one, but he never felt the need to. As long as there was the peace, all else would follow.
Tonight his ritual, he hoped, would contribute to that lasting peace.
In his eyes, the ritual was a message: we are aware of your presence. A two-fold message, the more he thought about it. First to the Misuteru--to the sect that threatened this peace every quarter century, almost like clockwork. And this time there were two of them, Natianos Lehanna and his subordinate Janoss Miradesi, in charge. These two men currently held a spiritual link to this city equal to his own, enough that they were able to begin amassing more of their kind down in the southern part of the city. They’d been doing so for the past year and a half, gearing themselves up for the events that would no doubt unfold over the following month, gathering their flock and training them to undo the delicate balance that Nehalé and his kind had ever done since arriving on this planet.
He understood the reasoning behind it--everything had its polar opposite, its yin and yang--and this was no different. Nehalé was a Mihari, part of the spiritual guard that protected and nurtured this human race with benevolence and persistence. Without them, Earth humans would have warred with themselves and with the Meraladians to the point of mutual destruction. On the other side stood the Misuteru--a sect with equal strength and determination to keep peace, but at a cost. While the Mihari chose a hands-off approach to keeping the peace, the Misuteru forced it upon the world. They truly believed that the only way that Gharra would evolve and grow into a deeply, spiritually strong world was to force their hand at it. Change their minds, their spirits. Perhaps their motives were as just as his, yet Nehalé could not make himself believe that this would be any different from the last time. The Gharné could not be forced to change.
Nehalé shivered. They are not your concern at the moment, he reminded himself. Keep watching the Sprawl below. He exhaled again, this time whispering a calming mantra in his native Anjshé tongue, and brought his thoughts back to the present. Slowly, thankfully, the mantra had done its work in getting his mind centered again. Within a few seconds he was back to where he’d been a few minutes before. And just in time, too. He glanced at his watch again; a few minutes before one in the morning.
He reminded himself of the second, and most important, message behind this ritual.
We are aware of your presence, Dearest One. You have come again.
She herself would understand his actions, he believed. She would know why he was about to alter the course of Gharné history. She alone would be the key to its evolution and its future. He’d made a promise to the Mihari Elders ages ago, that this moment would happen, and he would be the one to bring it forth. He would awaken this young woman and bring her true soul, the One of All Sacred, to the fore. She would know, innately, what she would then have to do to change the world--for the Gharné, the Mihari, and the Misuteru. And only then would the real evolution begin. She would make her own promise to Gharra: the promise to guide, to protect the people of the Earth. The Code of the Mihari, the Vigilant. dehndarra Né hra nyhndah...to be One with Heart and Spirit.
In the Spirit of Love.
He checked his wristwatch.
One in the morning exactly.
And so it begins, he thought to himself, his eyes darting across the Sprawl. I am doing this for all of you.
And using his inner speaking voice, the one he had that could reach vast distances to the minds and the hearts of those who were able to hear him: This is a Proclamation of Cleansing and Awakening.
He felt a multitude of spirits, somewhere down in that Sprawl, suddenly pricking up their ears and their soulhearing senses to listen.
He smiled, and continued.
I proclaim this Awakening in the Name of the One of All Sacred. I call forth the Spirits of the Mendaihu and the Shenaihu, the Holiest Spirits of Trisanda. I call them both to begin the Awakening--
Now!
The Tower began to tremble below his feet. It started as a subtle vertical shifting, like the rumbling of a heavily tracked transport passing by. Seconds later it grew in intensity, until he could feel a thick vibration under his feet, the plates of polycrete and thick windows starting to rattle all around him. He crouched slightly and lifted his arms slightly for balance, riding the vibrations, expecting them like he’d been through this sensation plenty of times before.
Suddenly, and a hell of a lot quicker than he’d been expecting it, his inner sensing felt a surge of spiritual energy welling up within the tower, pressing against its black polycrete skin, threatening to burst. The rattling intensified, an earthquake within the walls and threatening to explode and cast Nehalé off with it. Shifting a little to his left, he grabbed a handhold and gripped it tight.
This was expected. This was all expected, and it wasn’t going to be a quiet ritual, not by a long shot. He shut his eyes and prayed to the One that his strength would hold out. He held on, letting minutes tick by, as the spiritual energy swelled and fused and pushed, frantically searching for an escape.
Not yet... he whispered within, only to himself.
Not yet...
Down below, the thousands of spirits whose calm attention he’d attracted had begun backing away slowly, moving out of the range of the Tower. They may not have known what was coming, but they sure as hell knew what would happen if they got caught in the fallout. And yet they were not hiding...they were not running away in a vain attempt to avoid being affected by this ritual. No, they were embracing it, just as Nehalé had expected. They knew what was going to happen, any moment now.
Not...yet...
They knew why this was happening, and would anticipate its outcome. And more importantly, they knew who this ritual was for. Because of that, they would not deny themselves the pleasure and the rarity of sharing this with the girl it was so obviously for. If she was to be a part of this, they would also be, without question.
Far out in a quiet sector of the city, Nehalé felt something shift. He felt it within, a movement of Light and spirit, a soul stirring for the first time like an unborn child kicking within the womb. He shivered with elation, a single tear forming at the corner of his eye. It was time.
Awaken, he said from within, to all who could hear.
The tower responded with a terrifying clap of thunder that sent a deafening shockwave across the city. Nehalé screamed, a guttural, primal scream of pure emotion he could not hold back. Down below, lights flickered, transformers blew; windows rattled and shattered. Cars and transports stopped quick, tires squealing on pavement. Pedestrians stopped midstride and nearly fell. Nehalé could not feel their confusion, not yet...too chaotic to read anything just yet. Then--
First came the spirits...and for a brief second, the pain. Within the ancient spirits, and within the spirits of the millions of lives surrounding him, the release of forgotten barriers crashing down before him sent a wave of unbridled energy shooting up into the night sky. It washed over him, through him, coursing through his nerves, pulling at his own soul and threatening to tear it free. He let out a cry, doubling over, but fought it before the pain claimed him. He couldn’t let it go, not yet. It wasn’t over yet.
Not...yet...
Finally he heard--and felt--the second clap of thunder, much louder and deadlier than the first, created by the displacement of air as spiritual energy suddenly became an enormous physical, bleeding crimson cloud into the air, threatening to rain down on the sector below. The shockwave pushed Nehalé flat against the outer wall of the tower, nearly knocking the wind out of him. It held him fast, forcing him to take in short breaths of air until the pressure passed. Eventually he managed to push himself up and off the wall, coughing and reaching for the railing again. Dizzily he looked out over the city, his heart racing. The crimson cloud still held its place, circling quickly around the Tower, just a few levels below him. It held there like a thick seaside fog, translucent yet no less ominous. This was pure spirit surrounding him now, a force beyond anyone’s imagination...and it was angry.
And for a second, again, he felt the pain. Nehalé felt the pain of spirits, Meraladian and human alike, screaming, writhing--
Then, just as quickly, the pain of spirits lost. The feeling of essence ripped, siphoned out of him in an instant. He doubled over again, and did not lift his head again for many more minutes.
I...I apologize, dearest beloved spirits...
Time started again.
The BMPD helicopters rose, dove and weaved like excited flies swarming around a lethal bug light. They scrambled, narrowly escaped colliding with one another, and finally disbanded to separate corners of the city, responding to their homebase’s directives to get the hell away as soon as they could. Nehalé watched them for a moment through watering eyes, and wished them to find safe lives down there on the ground. He eventually regained his bearings, and stood to the sudden change in wind direction and temperature. The chill had been replaced by a stifling heat, nudging him against the Tower's side...and doubled by the bitter sting of the taken spirits. A sting that would stay with him forever.
Then he felt it.
Love.
Thousands, millions of Bridgetown citizens…suddenly waking out of slumber, or slowing in the street, or stopping in their workspaces…millions of citizens, feeling something, but not quite understanding what it was they felt. A curiously warm, protective feeling, but with a darker edge. A sudden awareness of their surroundings. A humbling compassion, but for what or whom they did not yet know. Then, just as quickly, it faded into their subconscious, before they could find a name or an emotion for it.
But now they knew something was there. They were aware now.
They had been Awakened.
Nehalé trembled with joy. He had done what he had set out to do. He could sense each of them now, fully and clearly without any hindrance. A veil had been lifted...the gauzelike barrier that divided so many souls in this world like a prison, had dropped away to nothingness, revealing the true spirits within. Each one of them could see now...truly see, for their inner senses had been cleansed and their eyes opened. They could now understand the true familial and spiritual connection between the Meraladhza and the Gharné. They were Awakened, free to now choose between following the Mihari or the Misuteru tenets...or both, if their spirits so inclined. They were truly free, these followers and protectors of the One of All Sacred.
And now they, each and every one of them, could sense him. And they would be following him soon, eager and hungry for direction. And he would be there for them, always.
...and out there, somewhere in one of the sections outside the shockwave’s reach, past the cacophony of newly found inner voices down below, he felt her. The young woman, stirring and waking out of slumber, had crawled out of her bed with a feeling of sleepy disorientation, and stopped in her tracks halfway down the hallway, unsure of why she’d gotten up. He felt her growing concern, a nagging in the back of her mind that something had happened, something that had affected her deeply, yet she couldn’t quite understand what it was. But she would, and soon. She was awake, like many of them now. Through his tears, he smiled again. His ultimate mission had been successful after all.
The One of All Sacred, he thought, tears falling down his cheeks. You have Awakened.
Of course, any comments/feedback are welcome!
©2010 Jon Chaisson. :)
PROLOGUE
It’s time to wake them up, he thought.
Nehalé Usarai let out a slow, even breath and hugged himself close as the cool night breeze pushed up against his body, fighting off the cold and a bout of vertigo at the same time. The view from the ninety-second floor maintenance walkway, only three-fifths of the way to the Mirades Tower’s zenith, was more breathtaking than he’d ever imagined, and it was a pity that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it for much longer. He’d seen it plenty of times from the vidmat images and the tour guides, but it was nothing compared to seeing it with his own eyes.
The northern half of the Bridgetown sprawl was laid out before him, the lighted geometry of streets and buildings glowing with life, both physical and spiritual. Main boulevards and groundways sliced through the congested city, dimly lit to a calming coppery hue from the streetlights, muting the harsh white of the vehicle lights. People from all walks of life were scattered along the sidewalks, even at this time of night, keeping the vibe alive. Buildings of all sizes and shapes sprang up around him, the tallest of them within a mile or so from the Tower, the smaller ones further on. The sprawl reached a good five miles further out, stopping abruptly at the Tagum mountain range--the Wilderlands, as they were commonly called--that bordered the northern edge and rolled gently down towards the ocean to his right. To the extreme northwest, just past the LektroYards power grid wedged into an elbow of tall hills, he could see the flat and currently quiet Nullport, the air and space landing zone for Bridgetown’s travelers. And in between all of these major points of reference, hundreds of thousands of people lived in apartments, condominiums, warehouses, lofts, and houses. He could only wonder how it felt to know, to sense all of these people, to know that that they were alive and breathing. The dueling emotions he felt from this view pushed at each other: the awe he felt as he witnessed the beauty of this city…and the sadness he felt at its falling so short of being paradise.
Citizens were out en masse on this humid Friday night. The late summer weather had brought out all sorts of people from the myriad walks of life that inhabited this world. The humans, the Meraladians, the Mannaki...a cultural and spiritual interchange that made up life on Earth--on Gharra. The limitless potential of the millions who lived in this central sprawl overwhelmed his sense of being. Any one of these people could spiritually and intellectually expand themselves. Nehalé smiled as he looked out over the city. If only they knew how lucky they are to have all of this, he thought. This land has never been more culturally and spiritually alive!
Underneath it all, the city’s lifeline brimmed with nervous electricity, close to overflow. Nehalé had waited patiently for that breach every night for the past two months, from various positions within the city, studying it intently. It hadn’t taken long for him to figure out the sprawl’s heartbeat--its ebb and flow of energy, both emotional and otherwise--and after all those nights, he’d come to the conclusion that the Mirades Tower really was the epicenter, the ground zero...the Stone of Gharra, as some Meraladhza called it. Nowhere else in this city was there such a heavy concentration of spiritual lifeflow that kept the city alive and thriving. It would be the perfect vantage point for an Awakening. Close enough for him to watch in detail and get the maximum coverage, and far enough away from her that she would not be harmed in the process. All of his senses were at full throttle now; every breath, every heartbeat, every emotion in this city, including his own, was his to hear and feel, to sense and experience, once the ritual started. Had he chosen to be on the ground, the sudden influx of emotions and energies into his own spiritsensing would have killed him instantly. Up here, he’d be a safe distance away when the time came.
He glanced at his watch and saw he still had plenty of time before he needed to perform the ritual. He thought again of his ancestors and their plans for this city...back then, when the Mirades Tower was merely a humble eight-five story skyscraper, and the first Meraladian landers had proclaimed it to be the Stone of Gharra, the Center of Earth. That wasn’t meant as an impressive proclamation, though...it was just their choice of base once they first landed. It wasn’t even the true touchdown spot--the true landing was a good few miles northwest of the Tower, out in the dunes in a nearly-forgotten corner of the Nullport. The Tower was just the base of operations once their era began.
The Meraladian Era. Nehalé’s lips formed a lopsided grin every time he thought of that hackneyed phrase used by historians. alaiadh dayen-ne si Gharra was more like it--"new knowledge for Earth", roughly translated. The former suggested cold, analytical study, not to mention possible connotations that the Meraladhza had taken over. But he never let that bother him...the Gharné would come around soon enough.
But for such a peace-loving race, the Meraladians had either a death wish or a penchant for looking a challenge squarely in the face. There were turbulent moments in that history, and there were also many years of peace. Two centuries later, and the Earth humans still weren't quite sure what to make of them, other than just another group of human-looking people, most with paraphysical abilities of some sort, wedging themselves into place within the Sprawl. Perhaps they were still a little afraid? If so, that particular emotion had been suppressed to the point that it was undetectable by any sensitive. Acceptance of aliens among humans had come fast, and curiously little fanfare or violence. They understood the Meraladzha posed no threat whatsoever--they just were, and humans accepted them. Nehalé chose to half-believe the theory that the human race as a whole had been humbled, once they had finally been given proof of extra-terrestrial intelligence.
It wasn't until a few years after the Landing that humans received their first shock: the revelation of a distant blood relationship between Meraladians and themselves. They had purposely held this bit of information back until humans felt ready for it. Scientists balked at the possibility, then rejoiced when proof was given. Religions all over the world rejoiced, and quite unexpectedly. Perhaps it was proof of a godlike existence in this universe, and not just on this planet. Nehalé never quite found the answer to that one, but he never felt the need to. As long as there was the peace, all else would follow.
Tonight his ritual, he hoped, would contribute to that lasting peace.
In his eyes, the ritual was a message: we are aware of your presence. A two-fold message, the more he thought about it. First to the Misuteru--to the sect that threatened this peace every quarter century, almost like clockwork. And this time there were two of them, Natianos Lehanna and his subordinate Janoss Miradesi, in charge. These two men currently held a spiritual link to this city equal to his own, enough that they were able to begin amassing more of their kind down in the southern part of the city. They’d been doing so for the past year and a half, gearing themselves up for the events that would no doubt unfold over the following month, gathering their flock and training them to undo the delicate balance that Nehalé and his kind had ever done since arriving on this planet.
He understood the reasoning behind it--everything had its polar opposite, its yin and yang--and this was no different. Nehalé was a Mihari, part of the spiritual guard that protected and nurtured this human race with benevolence and persistence. Without them, Earth humans would have warred with themselves and with the Meraladians to the point of mutual destruction. On the other side stood the Misuteru--a sect with equal strength and determination to keep peace, but at a cost. While the Mihari chose a hands-off approach to keeping the peace, the Misuteru forced it upon the world. They truly believed that the only way that Gharra would evolve and grow into a deeply, spiritually strong world was to force their hand at it. Change their minds, their spirits. Perhaps their motives were as just as his, yet Nehalé could not make himself believe that this would be any different from the last time. The Gharné could not be forced to change.
Nehalé shivered. They are not your concern at the moment, he reminded himself. Keep watching the Sprawl below. He exhaled again, this time whispering a calming mantra in his native Anjshé tongue, and brought his thoughts back to the present. Slowly, thankfully, the mantra had done its work in getting his mind centered again. Within a few seconds he was back to where he’d been a few minutes before. And just in time, too. He glanced at his watch again; a few minutes before one in the morning.
He reminded himself of the second, and most important, message behind this ritual.
We are aware of your presence, Dearest One. You have come again.
She herself would understand his actions, he believed. She would know why he was about to alter the course of Gharné history. She alone would be the key to its evolution and its future. He’d made a promise to the Mihari Elders ages ago, that this moment would happen, and he would be the one to bring it forth. He would awaken this young woman and bring her true soul, the One of All Sacred, to the fore. She would know, innately, what she would then have to do to change the world--for the Gharné, the Mihari, and the Misuteru. And only then would the real evolution begin. She would make her own promise to Gharra: the promise to guide, to protect the people of the Earth. The Code of the Mihari, the Vigilant. dehndarra Né hra nyhndah...to be One with Heart and Spirit.
In the Spirit of Love.
He checked his wristwatch.
One in the morning exactly.
And so it begins, he thought to himself, his eyes darting across the Sprawl. I am doing this for all of you.
And using his inner speaking voice, the one he had that could reach vast distances to the minds and the hearts of those who were able to hear him: This is a Proclamation of Cleansing and Awakening.
He felt a multitude of spirits, somewhere down in that Sprawl, suddenly pricking up their ears and their soulhearing senses to listen.
He smiled, and continued.
I proclaim this Awakening in the Name of the One of All Sacred. I call forth the Spirits of the Mendaihu and the Shenaihu, the Holiest Spirits of Trisanda. I call them both to begin the Awakening--
Now!
The Tower began to tremble below his feet. It started as a subtle vertical shifting, like the rumbling of a heavily tracked transport passing by. Seconds later it grew in intensity, until he could feel a thick vibration under his feet, the plates of polycrete and thick windows starting to rattle all around him. He crouched slightly and lifted his arms slightly for balance, riding the vibrations, expecting them like he’d been through this sensation plenty of times before.
Suddenly, and a hell of a lot quicker than he’d been expecting it, his inner sensing felt a surge of spiritual energy welling up within the tower, pressing against its black polycrete skin, threatening to burst. The rattling intensified, an earthquake within the walls and threatening to explode and cast Nehalé off with it. Shifting a little to his left, he grabbed a handhold and gripped it tight.
This was expected. This was all expected, and it wasn’t going to be a quiet ritual, not by a long shot. He shut his eyes and prayed to the One that his strength would hold out. He held on, letting minutes tick by, as the spiritual energy swelled and fused and pushed, frantically searching for an escape.
Not yet... he whispered within, only to himself.
Not yet...
Down below, the thousands of spirits whose calm attention he’d attracted had begun backing away slowly, moving out of the range of the Tower. They may not have known what was coming, but they sure as hell knew what would happen if they got caught in the fallout. And yet they were not hiding...they were not running away in a vain attempt to avoid being affected by this ritual. No, they were embracing it, just as Nehalé had expected. They knew what was going to happen, any moment now.
Not...yet...
They knew why this was happening, and would anticipate its outcome. And more importantly, they knew who this ritual was for. Because of that, they would not deny themselves the pleasure and the rarity of sharing this with the girl it was so obviously for. If she was to be a part of this, they would also be, without question.
Far out in a quiet sector of the city, Nehalé felt something shift. He felt it within, a movement of Light and spirit, a soul stirring for the first time like an unborn child kicking within the womb. He shivered with elation, a single tear forming at the corner of his eye. It was time.
Awaken, he said from within, to all who could hear.
The tower responded with a terrifying clap of thunder that sent a deafening shockwave across the city. Nehalé screamed, a guttural, primal scream of pure emotion he could not hold back. Down below, lights flickered, transformers blew; windows rattled and shattered. Cars and transports stopped quick, tires squealing on pavement. Pedestrians stopped midstride and nearly fell. Nehalé could not feel their confusion, not yet...too chaotic to read anything just yet. Then--
First came the spirits...and for a brief second, the pain. Within the ancient spirits, and within the spirits of the millions of lives surrounding him, the release of forgotten barriers crashing down before him sent a wave of unbridled energy shooting up into the night sky. It washed over him, through him, coursing through his nerves, pulling at his own soul and threatening to tear it free. He let out a cry, doubling over, but fought it before the pain claimed him. He couldn’t let it go, not yet. It wasn’t over yet.
Not...yet...
Finally he heard--and felt--the second clap of thunder, much louder and deadlier than the first, created by the displacement of air as spiritual energy suddenly became an enormous physical, bleeding crimson cloud into the air, threatening to rain down on the sector below. The shockwave pushed Nehalé flat against the outer wall of the tower, nearly knocking the wind out of him. It held him fast, forcing him to take in short breaths of air until the pressure passed. Eventually he managed to push himself up and off the wall, coughing and reaching for the railing again. Dizzily he looked out over the city, his heart racing. The crimson cloud still held its place, circling quickly around the Tower, just a few levels below him. It held there like a thick seaside fog, translucent yet no less ominous. This was pure spirit surrounding him now, a force beyond anyone’s imagination...and it was angry.
And for a second, again, he felt the pain. Nehalé felt the pain of spirits, Meraladian and human alike, screaming, writhing--
Then, just as quickly, the pain of spirits lost. The feeling of essence ripped, siphoned out of him in an instant. He doubled over again, and did not lift his head again for many more minutes.
I...I apologize, dearest beloved spirits...
Time started again.
The BMPD helicopters rose, dove and weaved like excited flies swarming around a lethal bug light. They scrambled, narrowly escaped colliding with one another, and finally disbanded to separate corners of the city, responding to their homebase’s directives to get the hell away as soon as they could. Nehalé watched them for a moment through watering eyes, and wished them to find safe lives down there on the ground. He eventually regained his bearings, and stood to the sudden change in wind direction and temperature. The chill had been replaced by a stifling heat, nudging him against the Tower's side...and doubled by the bitter sting of the taken spirits. A sting that would stay with him forever.
Then he felt it.
Love.
Thousands, millions of Bridgetown citizens…suddenly waking out of slumber, or slowing in the street, or stopping in their workspaces…millions of citizens, feeling something, but not quite understanding what it was they felt. A curiously warm, protective feeling, but with a darker edge. A sudden awareness of their surroundings. A humbling compassion, but for what or whom they did not yet know. Then, just as quickly, it faded into their subconscious, before they could find a name or an emotion for it.
But now they knew something was there. They were aware now.
They had been Awakened.
Nehalé trembled with joy. He had done what he had set out to do. He could sense each of them now, fully and clearly without any hindrance. A veil had been lifted...the gauzelike barrier that divided so many souls in this world like a prison, had dropped away to nothingness, revealing the true spirits within. Each one of them could see now...truly see, for their inner senses had been cleansed and their eyes opened. They could now understand the true familial and spiritual connection between the Meraladhza and the Gharné. They were Awakened, free to now choose between following the Mihari or the Misuteru tenets...or both, if their spirits so inclined. They were truly free, these followers and protectors of the One of All Sacred.
And now they, each and every one of them, could sense him. And they would be following him soon, eager and hungry for direction. And he would be there for them, always.
...and out there, somewhere in one of the sections outside the shockwave’s reach, past the cacophony of newly found inner voices down below, he felt her. The young woman, stirring and waking out of slumber, had crawled out of her bed with a feeling of sleepy disorientation, and stopped in her tracks halfway down the hallway, unsure of why she’d gotten up. He felt her growing concern, a nagging in the back of her mind that something had happened, something that had affected her deeply, yet she couldn’t quite understand what it was. But she would, and soon. She was awake, like many of them now. Through his tears, he smiled again. His ultimate mission had been successful after all.
The One of All Sacred, he thought, tears falling down his cheeks. You have Awakened.
Of course, any comments/feedback are welcome!
©2010 Jon Chaisson. :)