[Flashback] A Soul's Fall [Solo]

[Pyxis]

24th of Spring, 505 AV

The moon was gorged with light and sat low over lake Ravok when a shooting crossed the night sky. A circle of light formed on the surface of the lake briefly wounding its smooth glassy surface not far from the shore and then slowly dissipated shooting a thing beam of light towards the moon. The lake bubbled briefly and then healed to reflect the moonlight once again with only a lazily drifting wisp of steam to mark the recent invasion.

Underneath the calm of the surface a newly reborn Ethaefal fought for his life against the water's lukewarm grasp and his own confusion. Panic took hold of him, Where am I? How did I get here? Why is my Djed held captive in this mortal shell? His mind wouldn't stop racing and his lungs ached deeply and sent out little branched of pain through the rest of his body. His mouth opened almost of its own accord allowing water to rush in and choke him. Arms and legs flailed against the night waters in a vain attempt to reach the dimly glowing surface, but consciousness slowly slipped away piece by piece, making his limbs feel heavy and almost detached from the rest of his body, and choked his will to fight as the waters choked his mortal body. He went limp and his mind blank. No longer could he see the light of water's break as he floated under the surface, helpless.

The Ethaefal felt the gentle pressure of earth against naked flesh as conscious flooded back to him. A fuzzy round outline appeared when he opened his eyes and slowly focused into a deeply tanned face cracked by the wrinkles of long life. The face was dominated by a nose that had been broken long ago and a brow twisted by concern. The face said something, its lips moving deliberately, but the sound didn't register with the almost drowned man. He looked past the face to the night sky behind it and tried to connect with the heavens, but they were silent. Consciousness slipped away once more.

When the Ethaefal woke again he felt the mild itchiness of a wool blanket covering his naked flesh, the warmth of the a nearby fire and a clarity of thought that he hadn't felt since his rebirth. His clear mind gave his feelings of loss and disconnectedness a visceral edge that cut at him from the inside. He tried to shake off the feelings and sat up. The owner of the face heard the movement, turned around and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he said "Help yourself to all the air and dry land you want. My camp is your camp until you get your bearings, fallen one."

"Where am I?" said the Ethaefal.

"You landed on the shores of lake Ravok, just a stone's throw from the most vile city I've ever had the pleasure of leaving. I plan on getting as far from that damned place as I can as soon as the sun greets us. You should follow if you don't want to end up as someone's plaything or worse. I'll be your compass until you get your bearing."

[Pyxis]

The Benshiran suddenly turned and walked around the edge of the fire, his shadow casting strangely on the tent as he passed it, and disappeared behind a tree. He came back around the tree a couple minutes later with an olive colored tunic, light coat with yellow and green stripes, a simple white cloth head covering, a bit of rope and a pair of sandals in a pile that leaned dangerously to the left in his arms. He set the clothes down next to the Ethaefal, turned around and walked toward his tent. "If you're lucky they won't slide right off you," he said with a smile as he ducked past the tents open flap.

"What should I call you?" the Ethaefal said, his voice louder than before.

"I am called Almon, from the tents of Almar, of the sons of Rapa, but don't feel the need to spit out that monstrosity every time you want to get my attention." Almon smiled at the Ethaefal, then the smile faded and he said, "Hmmm, but what should we call you, fallen one? That's the real mystery. Do you come with a name already burned into that head of yours or must you choose your own?"

The Ethaefal grabbed the tunic from the pile and stood up, the flames playfully throwing light on his pale skin. "My name is ..... ," his lips contorted and a guttural sound escaped his lips. He recoiled at the sound he made and looked down at his new body with disgust. Was his name lost, replaced with worthless flesh? " ..... ." Fuck. His hands fumbled with the tunic failing to find a meaning in the cloth's simple form. "I can't. My name is lost to this body." As he spoke the words his hands found a way to slide the tunic over his shoulders. He quickly picked up the coat and slid his arms into it with similar success. "What will we call me?" Such a strange question. Such a lonely question.

Almon stepped out of the tent and said "I'm sorry, but that's not for me to say, fallen one." The Ethaefal looked down at the fire and wrung his hands. Almon walked over and clapped him on the back. "Don't look so glum, friend. During my travels I have called many campfires my home and heard many a tale around them. Even a few about your curious race, and, if this ailing memory serves most were named after some heavenly body or constellation. Do you know the names of night sky?"

The Ethaefal looked up at the night sky, his face lewd with longing. "I know them all, somehow." A great sadness filled his voice.

"Then you're halfway there, at least. Let's feed you and see if we can't get you the rest of the way."

[Pyxis]

TBC...

[Pyxis]

TBC...