Shazi
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.:.Shadows of the Past.:.

It was all around me, all encompassing, all darkness. I felt nothing but a void where my heart used to be, and an emptiness that was staggering where my soul had been, and all I could feel in the physical sense was....

nothing.

Light was none existent in this world that I now found myself, as I treaded through the emptiness, searching. For what I didnt know, all I could see was a vast distance unmeasurable by any human standard, then finally sparks of light that my mind labeled as stars, but I knew on a deeper level that they were not, they were something sinister.

They were lonely souls, thrown into this lost oblivion to wander for all time in eternal damnation because people in the world of the living had forgotten them. They were the Fallen. And they spoke to me. First in whispers, then in song, now in a never ending hym, but not a hym of praise.

 

They sang of my death.

And of the rebirth into a world and a time all their own.

Then all I knew was fear.

- - - - - - - - - - -

In sleepless dreams, reality is but nothing

Life slips away like grains of sand

In an hourglass

While evil lies dormant, waiting

No matter what time, what age

The Fallen sleep on, eternally searching

 

Leaves fall unhindered, visionaries to the circle

A sphere of learning, of life, of death

Revolving forever around something unknown

With the fallen of ages long gone, unmourned

Following naught but a wish for rebirth

 

In the faith of the Fallen hope alone lies

While the balance waivers from darkness to light

And with the faith of the fallen only one can win

After winning the hearts of those

Who have risen again.

- - - - - - - - -

Light filtered lifelessly upon my sleeping face as I lay stretched out on my flat pad on the kitchen floor. Some of the other drudges stirred restlessly as they sensed in their subconscious minds that soon the Kitchen Master would come in and kick them all awake. I awakened from my troubled dreams in a cold sweat, for once glad to be facing a long day of chores, for it would give me reason and excuse enough to forget. Yawning lightly, I sat up and rubbed bleary eyes, wondering for not the first time how I had come to this, this drudgery. But the answer was always the same, and not worth even thinking about. Yawning again, I rolled up my pad and put it away in an out of the way nook near the pantry.

Minutes passed in an oddly slow way, and I wondered at it. Looking at the wall clock hung over the stove, then out one of the windows, I realized the Kitchen master and all of his apprentices and servants were late. Most of the other drudges were now awake and had stowed away their pads and such, a few had also noticed the Masters lateness and looked at me like I had the answer, which I always seemed to, for I had not always been a drudge. No, I had had a life, but I couldnt remember it, couldnt remember anything beyond the age of 15. While that troubled me, I tried not to think of it to much, but that was also one of the reasons for my current predicament. I sighed and shrugged at the others, then pulled one of my most precious belongings from my small leather pouch I kept wrapped around my waist, a comb. Usually I didnt have time to brush my hair, or if I did the Master would specifically forbid me to on the grounds that "no drudge should have hair like that" which was true. Everyone else in the small, cramped kitchen had either dirty, matted blond of brown hair that was kept short, or long stringy hair of indistinguishable color that covered their faces. My hair was long and always tied back in a neat tail that would be occasionally braided if I made the time at night, and was a fiery red gold that absolutely shone even in the darkest gloom. Now I ran the small comb I never remembered receiving through the shiny mass, then tied it back in a neat tail so it wouldnt get in my way, then put the comb back in the pouch. After fastening the silver clasp, I stared at it for awhile, trying the remember anything about the purse, which I always remembered having, but never buying or even stealing, though the thought of stealing anything other then the occasional food scraps made me nautious. My thoughts were broken with the arrival of one of the Masters Apprentices, a young girl who looked rather shy and uncertain of herself. As everyone slowly climbed to their feet, she gulped and looked around nervously, then her eyes hardened and she took on a belligerent look. "Alright everyone, master is sick today, but Im in charge. All of the others are on their way, and I want you, you, and you" she says pointing to three men," to go get wood so we can get all of the stoves going." When no one moved, her face flushed a little. "You all heard what I said! Move! And I want all you women getting all the pots and pans out and ready, and I want at least three of you to set up the main dining hall for breakfast. Got it?" still no one moved, and her face turned as red as any shellfish she had ever cooked.