Tales of the Light 2
Tales of the Light 2
Eons ago, Light, Dark, and Shadow lived in harmony, until a great battle, or argument, or difference, or simply being lost tore them apart. Their stories melded or tattered depending on the story teller, but always one thing remained constant; there were always three. In some stories they are kin. In others they are a lover’s quarrel. In another they are all enemies vying for humanity. In some they are the caretakers of Majeria. No matter what incarnation though, they all three exist. To assume that ONLY they three exist though would be a prideful folly. As we near closer to the end of the prophecy, I am reminded of a story I can now see was meant as a cautionary tale as opposed to a religious parable. Light, Dark, and Shadow are in many ways Gods; but not the only, and not all powerful.
“Having lost the favor of Man, their only child, Light, Dark, and Shadow walked separate paths and drifted apart further and further until only their memory of each other remained. In their wake they left trails of their fortune; fertile lands, cunning creatures, fiery caverns. Their sadness grew as they walked the world and saw the products of Man, more just like him, and yet all of them unaware of their progeny. The Gods could not be seen, could not be heard, could not be touched. So began the practice of each God taking a mortal form. In these forms they retained all their powers, yet no desire to use them fully in mortal form. Sometimes this would take the form of a Tree, a humble monk, a warlord, mystical creature. Many heroes or fascinations of the world are thought to be the Gods incarnate. And through time, Light, Dark, and Shadow found each other again, in different bodies, but known to each other. Their time with mortals had tainted their ability to live in harmony, they forgot their origins and their mutual passion for the world they created.
Small battles of faithful erupted here and there, often times with Shadow thwarting the desires of the stronger of Light or Dark, always attempting balance while taking fate into her own hands. Chaos and Law began to blur and soon the Gods no longer saw this as a holy destiny, but rather a status quo. They remembered each other more and more until they could meet once more, like generals with mutual respect on the battle field. As this Chaos and Law shaped the world, it opened cracks, lifted veils, and called out. Something had been born anew.
The three travelled together, leaving their petty trials to cease until they dealt with whatever it was that had woken. They came to rocks in the distance, a gaseous mist hanging in the middle, the very ground cracked, and beings standing among the rocks, chanting, until noticing the Gods and stopping.
‘Who are you?’ Asked Dark.
‘We are Gods.’ One of them replied.
‘By who’s right?’ Shadow demanded.
‘The will of Man has brought us. They have willed us, into existence.’
‘That’s not possible, they do not have that power.’ Light reasoned, though the calm arrogance of the beings was unnerving. One of them stepped forward, a battle forged warrior, looking close to human, but distinctly unnatural.
‘They have used your power. We are before you. They have fueled everything you gave them into us. We are the Old Ones. We are fear, chaos, law, loathing, bliss, pain, freedom, power, destruction, beauty, passion, joy. We are what you have wrought. They have willed us into existence. You have failed them, and so they call to us.’
‘They know not what they do.’ Light, referring to the Children of Majeria, pleading to the Old Ones.
‘They know what they want.’ Shadow, acknowledging the desires of the Children, as all living beings do.
‘They know not what they do.’ Dark, referring to these would be Gods, who had made the grave error of crossing him. Dark menaced as he drew his blade launching himself at Chaos for he knew his tactics well.
The battle raged. Dark, unyielding, even in the face of Joy who defended herself simply stating she did not want to die. Shadow reigned them in, enfeebling them, numbing them, making them incapable of combat. Light drove out fear, unmade pain, and thwarted destruction. It had taken its toll. The Gods were worn, but victorious over the Old Ones, who lay beaten on the essence soaked ground, dying but not dead.
Dark stalked forward, his sword teaming with dripping essence, “We should do away with them.”
“We should understand them. This is partly our doing, we created the beings and they creature them.” Light reasoned with Dark as they argued over the bodies until Shadow asserted her knowledge,
“We cannot kill them. To kill them would be to remove these thoughts and emotions from our Children. Freedom is paramount. To destroy any of these so called Old Ones would be to destroy a part of our Children. These, creatures are unruly, base, and unwieldy, but so are our Children. They cannot be left to influence the land. Let us lock them away.”
And so the Old Ones were locked in the great stone circle, locked away in deep and ancient magic that only Light, Dark, and Shadow still remember. Some say though, that as long as they live, the Children live as a conduit. Should your anger pour out of you, Chaos will speak. If you should live for nothing but beauty, she will encourage your opulence. Even Joy, if you let her, will make you blissfully unaware of dangers right in front of you. While the Old Ones live, they speak, and as long as they live, the Children feel. Freedom is never truly free, and excess is always a room filled until you can no longer find the room to breathe.”
Even now I see the parallels to the new pantheon, and now know that this was no parable. The Old Ones are real. The wisdom of Shadow is true though: they must never be freed, and they must never be killed. In that, we find our own monsters in ourselves. Denying freedom to the things we have ourselves created through our own consciousness, so that we may remain free to choose any emotion we like. The Old Ones, The Pantheon, The Mage Rebellion, and the Purge that followed it. We have always denied what we did not understand. I cannot say whether the Old Ones should roam free; however, we did not make the Mages, and they should never be chained as a result of vile brethren. I owe Carter his life back.