A mountain shot out from the earth, slamming into his form. Sudden. He screamed and felt the internal warmth of his body. Odd that the realization came at this moment. But he sensed some measure of damage done to his physicality. Whether that meant his physical self or mental self was unknown. After all, within the Grayworld, he existed purely as a mental force.
At least, so he believed.
Though some symbols, specifically one used by that Highness, had harmed his soul... The bird had revealed that.
Was it Important?
STOP IT!
He screamed and snapped out of the trance. Upwards he still went, the mountain pillaring him into the heavens, past the darkened clouds towards... He panted... Towards the Great Gate! Was that Orvane's plan? To somehow 'hack' the gate? Was that even possible?
He did not desire that possibility—regardless of the outcome. And so he clenched, fist balled tightly, prime and ready. Amazing the levels of strength he achieved within this world. It collided, his knuckles smashing into the solidity. It cracked, lines snaking across the black rock. Good.
And then it shattered—breaking into pieces of boulders, dropping onto the earth. Each rock a vibration on the land. Merrin, on the other hand... floated, wide-eyed, partially in awe of the levitation. Could this also be done in reality? He wondered, reined it as quickly as it came, and observed intently the desolate lands. Where was she?
Where was Orvane?
A boulder crashed into him—and with a bang, Merrin hammered into the earth. Pain flashing across his awareness. He gasped, reached out through the rock, pushing it aside. He stood, walked a step, and fell to his knees.
Pain!
Almighty help me!
A voice boomed from the distance—a sense of power present within them. A cold essence. "This is barbaric, you know?"
Merrin looked up, and there, lingering, Orvane, dressed in that tattered red dress, regarded him. And behind her, the world sparked into that intense grayness—clouds a shade of deep black. Ominous. Yet, somehow, Orvane seemed similar to them. What?
The implication of that frightened him.
She said, taking a step. "You are a Caster, yet you fight like a blademaster. You make me fight like that. Boulders? Rocks? Mountains? Again, I am reminded what a pathetic species humans are... Failures. Let me teach you as your master."
The world trembled. The beads... hundreds of them. How? More and more quivered, and shone with a bright intensity, like the sun. They glowed. Something was being made. What? He had no way of knowing. More and more, the internal awareness of this space leaked silently out of his wholeness.
Slow but steady, it became alien to him.
He shuddered. She's taking it from me!
Merrin willed the Ardents, and as one, they charged towards her—but he knew... oh, he knew the fruitlessness of that action. And as expected, they were slammed back by a wave of white light, most turning into fumes of twirling black.
He screamed... Increasingly, the beads were glowing—floating—changing. And his heart... now that was a drum of frenetic motions.
"Please stop!" He could almost see it—the moment he stands alone, worthless, his people dying around him for the sheer reason of his weakness. That could not be allowed... That should not be allowed!
Lords please…
"Stop her..." He whispered. "Please stop her!"
It answered. The bird, now present in its compact form, fluttered down, perching atop a shard of dark stone, a strange expression on its face. What was it? Mockery?
"And now what do you expect I can do?" It asked.
"Stop her!" Merrin said, pointing at Orvane. "Stop her!"
"I can't!"
That shattered him. It couldn't? What? How? But it's always so strong... so aware. How?
"But the El'shadie can!"
"What?"
The bird cocked its head. "Consider yourself," It said. "You have an odd desire to fight like an Ashman. Almost instinctual... That cannot save you now. Know this: very few Casters take more than a step in battle. There is never any need for it. The motions—the fervent actions—that, you see, are for the weaker ones. The need to run and jump and twirl. All that is the weaklings. Frankly, it is a mockery that you still act like that... Like som—" The bird turned into dust.
!
What?
"That thing talks a lot." Orvane stood now... surrounded by statues. Stone creatures—winged, three-eyed. Countless with their skin in grey and fissured forms. They waited, silent, lifeless. He knew that—from the dull glint in their total black eyes. Endless in number, they stretched over the vastness of the desolate fields.
Lingering.
Almighty!
Orvane observed them and said, "What a symbol you have here. For centuries, I attempted to create a life. But here... with this, all it takes is a moment. A singular thought and life can be birthed. What a waste that a human must have that!"
Abruptly, they surged—the Aelmiren. The newborn, like a pack of beasts, swarming towards him, mad. So many! How? There was no moment for ponderings, no second for fear of questions... only actions.
Thus, he called for the Ardents—those who still waited. Them and a few of the scattered ones. Not all.
Weakness.
It came over him like a shroud of solidity—a faintness in inner mentation. He was growing weaker, a thing that normally should be harder within the Grayworld.
Lords, what was happening? What was Orvane taking?
He cried out, and the world rocked as the two tides of life smashed into each other. A wave of black and white tiding through the desolate space. No screams. No wailings. Just the loud crackling of rock and wheezing of smoke.
Countless were dismantled... And oddly, the Ardents stood in strength, breaking more of the stones than they did theirs. Good. Except, there was Orvane, crafting more. From the beads they arose, running, adding to the endless onslaught of marble forms. I have to do something. Anything!
It was constricting—the fear. Like a wrap of chains and imagination. Constantly, it came... the awareness that everything was being taken away. The Grayworld, the Ardents, the symbols... even the bird.
I should have learned. I should never have taken the risk of bringing the Grayworld into this place! In the end, this is HER MIND! Ah, for a Caster, I'm so stupid!
And so there he knelt, staring up at the chaos of hurling things. Stones shattered, Ardents fading... And Orvane? She watched it too—always with that cold detachment.
Feel something, Mist it! He gritted. You're taking everything from me; the least you can do is enjoy it! ENJOY WHAT YOU'RE TAKING FROM ME... Tears streamed down his cheeks. Enjoy what you're taking from my people. ENJOY CONDEMNING US ALL TO DEATH!
He screamed. "ENJOY IT GODMIST IT!" And he peered in—opening the inner eye of the Caster—watching. Eyes locked directly at the lance of light held by Orvane. They were... simple. Powerful. Complex. How did such a thing cause this damage?
It exploded.
He jerked, clutching his head as the wave of data, words, symbols, letters... undefinables flooded into his mind. A splash of entropic colors. Darkness. Light. Stars. Spiraling orbs of darkness with wheels of light around them.
Such madness!
It was within—in his bones, in his flesh—soul. Everything was drowning in the mania. Infinite... Yet beautiful.
He smiled.
It was so... odd. So unimaginable. Into his cognitive mind it went, changing it. Changing him. Who knew? How could chaos be so... simple?
A question: Would a madman know of the realization of his lunacy? How would one break out of the discord of their own internality?
He gasped, eyes snapping up to the light of the Grayworld—the skies of churning storms and darkened clouds. So peaceful. Serene. Bile leaked down from his lips... What just happened? A pearl of his awareness asked... There was none to answer.
What did I see? What was all that? Was that the symbol? How does one even comprehend that? How was that even possible?
He lowered his head... I try AGAIN!
He marshaled the world—at least, whatever measure of control he could. And from it, the Ardents rushed with renewed fervor. One task in their actions.
PROTECT THE E'SHADIE! PROTECT THE ONE THAT WILL NEVER DIE! PROTECT HIM FOR HE IS THE PATH THAT REMAINS!
What else was there to do?
Merrin gazed at the spear of light, and heaved... This I do for them!
And the world exploded in his gaze. Endless words, concepts like a tide of data, slamming into his mind. Worse, he was a Caster. Always, the mind took in information. But now... oh now, that was the danger.
He felt his head slam onto the earth. Unsure what that was exactly... Head? What was a head? Did it matter? Maybe not, for here he was, standing in the center of a torrent of words, randoms, each all flashing across his eyes, fitting themselves into the reaches of his mind. No safety was found for his awareness—just complete and utter vulnerability.
"I AM MERRIN!" He repeated... unsure why exactly he was saying those words. But... there was a sense to continue. To brace the endless surge of data. To find meaning within the complexity.
There had to be.
Find the meaning, Merrin. Find it and stop it.
He reached out... why? Why was he doing this?
His arms reared. He couldn't see them, but they did. They cupped, warm. Warming. Soft... Calm.
Find meaning! Find the definition. Find the answers... There had to be...
And then... he found it.
A bright white light shone from his palm!