I fear our Silences.
I fear mine and their's.
For so long since my holy entrance to our Sanctum and since my many pious vows to the Vaticinator, I have felt nothing but fear to our Silences.
So I move across the Sanctum, touching its holy metal of divinity and echoing its rooms of grandness just to prevent from hearing our Silences again.
For so long I have regretted ever accepting the Sacred Offer from our Pious Chaplains. Their unknowing lies and corrupting words makes me sicken to the stomach, second only to our Silences.
It wasn't always like this, my fear and the Silences that engulfed my mind and sanity.
But that is dead in the past. For so long I have known of every detail. Of every hymns and words. How every battles and stories ends. But I don't know who's right, not anymore.
My people were the holiest. For generations we followed and enforced the will of this Sanctum and with it the pious of our Gods. The Northern Gods who fought the Madness Era and formed the Divine Dominion that all true souls will one day go to, the day of godhood for our mortal-selves.
From the day I was born, I was destined to be one of our Gods. For I was already a demigod. From the day I awakened from my egg, I was blessed by not the birth of my father and mother. But my birth of my bloodline. I was born with the most piousness of marks - The Mark of the Northern God: Elgarr. The God of Bravery and Lord of Battles and Sacrifices. Three scars across my right cheek and one scar going straight down the middle. And from this holy birth, I was sent to the Chaplains to be praised and worshiped by many. The highest honour for my family, although I never got to see my family. From the moment I could stand and flap my wings, I was raised to fight, to serve my father and his siblings. In rain and snow, in mountains and lakes, I was watched by our holiest sibyls as I fought and learnt and triumphed. Not many were worthy enough to serve my father, but I was. After all, his blood flows through my veins. I proved myself quicker then most would think. Then again from looking back, I can see why. Who would ever want to fight a demigod and anger the Lord of Battles?
I fought like this for our people as it always has been in our holy past, and would always will be so, unfortunately for myself and many that'll follow. Although they will never need to fear the silences that would follow me in our Holy Sanctum.
Forty-three years ago I became like my father. A warrior of holiest might and strength, strong enough to fight the Great Madness and its rage for eight days and nights. I was the head of our Chaplains' Holy Brotherhood and our Gods' Chosen Ones, brethren who gave their lives away to serve our gods and to reach godhood the fastest and greatest way possible. For that is in the form of Holy Wars, fighting against the Remnant of Madness. The Dead Gods of the Dragons. The Heretical Lies of the Zebras and the False God of the Ponies. They fought well for their Gods, their victories were few and costly and some prove of their struggles still remains to this day. But not many. Nonetheless, it did not matter how great the fought. It did not matter at all. Our Might and our Piousness was unequal.
Thus I do not care for the bones that rots in the dirt I had fought across, they're just apart of the past, the forgotten souls of simplified stories of our battles. For in the end, they all had a choice: Live in Brotherhood or die in their Falsehood.
All chose Falsehood.
All died.
All died by my father's might.
All died by my Chaplains' duties.
All died by my sword.
Its metal cut through their skins in verity. It was their end on this world. And it was ended by one swing.
Mine.
They are all dead because of me. They were all dead by my father's will and his holiest caretakers - The Chaplains.
And yet I need their souls to tell me how to live.
Every ritual deeds I committed was my purpose as a demigod of our Northern Gods. Our forces would gather at our incoming battles and sieges, my armies's chaplain vociferated to me and the rite began. After a lifetime of zeal and many hymns in tents, in the end our time would arrive.
"Speak, Holiest One!" I would say. "And let their word annihilate those that would keep Madness in their minds and in their brotherhoods!"
"Pious Truth." They will answer. "Annihilate them in Pious Truth."
And so we did.
My Chosen Ones would blindly charge into battle against the Madness of the Heretics, cutting down all in their path, regardless of their height, age and words. When the vanguards completed their holy quests and the shockwave of our Zealous Hearts joined our souls. I knelt. Waiting for all to be silent and calm and for the Chaplain to tell wherever or not I have pleased my Father and our Northern Gods.
It was always the same.
So my Chosen Ones would shriek in triumph and would begin to remove and burn everything around our victory until there was only ashes and cinders, embers and slags. A lesson for those who would dare keep ahold to the Great Madness and not come to the Pious Truth of the Northern Gods.
I miss that silent, not the ones that plague me now and forces me to keep making noises and to sleep somewhere that makes a single sound. Never sleep next to the drops of water, it is torment and bliss that would kill me.
That day began when I completed my greatest abominable achievement to the Northern Gods. The capture of a Dragon-Lord and defeating him in combat, proving to all of my father's blood and cutting down any false truths about me. When I returned to Griffinstone, even the King and Queen of my holiest people knelt before me, calling me a living God among Mortals. Thus, the Chaplains blindly blessed me with the Right of being the First Gryphon in History to set foot onto my father's holiest shrines... The Sanctum of the Gods.
The holy place of where our Gods won over the Madness and its many insane tutelary spirits. A monument to show the world of their might, honour and piousness before venturing and creating the Divine Dominion of which all of us will go to. How I wish to feel that honour and pride and joy in my heart again. Not this fear and dread that haunts me to this day and coming days beyond.
I first set foot on the Sanctum, oh how I remembered my gasps of wonder as I felt the metal floor of my Gods and of my father. How I will venture to its holiest seat - The Sovereignty of Ascension and sit upon it to ascend to meet my father. But first I must find the Holy Vaticinator, to tell it of my great deeds and to say the proper phrases and hymns of duties and devotions. For many weeks I'd searched, the Sanctum was indeed large and mighty as of our Gods. How I wondered then in the back of my sane mind.
How did they begin their great war against the Madness Era?
What did they do before warring?
What was their lives like in peace and thoughts?
Were they like us? Like me? Training everyday to become greater then before?
Or did they live like my mortal family did? Going through their daily lives without the need to fight? But to gather and love?
All of these questions ran through my mind and as they ran, so did my zealous heart and eager mind.
And then I saw it. I found it.
The Holy Vaticinator.
It hovered in the air without the need of wings, using some unseen holy power we will never truly understand or wield. Its metal was old and grey, but in that age, the knowledge and wisdom of the Northern Gods flowed through its mind, even seeing them with its only yellow eye. Runes and details written by the Gods themselves was seen on its eye, no pupil or iris, just their pious will and laws.
So I did like all true faithful does.
I knelt.
Knelt before the Holy Vaticinator, knelt as its yellow aura covered me which to this day I feel the chilling reason for the aura.
And I spoke my phrases and hymns:
"Holy Vaticinator, Voice of the Gods and Potentate of the Sanctum! I cometh be forth thee with pious truth and loyal mind! I am but thy servant and thee art mine ever truest master! Holy Vaticinator, I asketh of thee - has't I hath served mine Northern Gods? has't I earned mine lodging with those folk? To sitteth beside those folk and to beest still one of our Gods?"
I awaited its pious words of either acceptance or denial, either way I would of spoken to our Holy Vaticinator and be the first and most likely the last to do so. I closed my eyes, not wanting to hoping, but hoping nonetheless.
But its words... Was not what the Chaplains said and sung.
My words was...Invalid? Illogical?
Words I did not understand at first, words that made me look into its eye. The Eye of Yellow and Runes.
I repeat myself again, saying the phrases and hymns. I thought I said them wrong. But after the tenth time, with the fifth being out of pure confusion and terror, I stopped my phrases and hymns. They were all the same.
Invalid.
Illogical.
And as I stared at it in silence for two whole seconds, the Holy Vaticinator just went away, carrying on with its duties to the Gods and its Lordship over the Sanctum.
I knelt there in silence for Gods knows how long. I also miss that silence, it was confusing and troubling. But it was so...Good. A good lying sound.
But my years of being the Leader of the Chosen Ones and being the Son of Elgarr, I went after the Holy Vaticinator to prove my worth. I thought it was a test, maybe the Gods set a test for us to find the right words to be taken to the Sovereignty of Ascension.
For weeks, I followed it. I asked it questions.
What should I do?
It would say:
Do not interrupt 326 Protocol, Article 55 of Section 2 for New Melody Independence and Resurrection of Neo-Chorus City.
What is New Melody Independence?
It would say:
Independence of New Melody and its allies against the corruption of the Council's Laws.
What happened to this New Melody?
It would say:
The Titan-Mech: Mech 2552 AKA The Star-Marcher, loyalist to Council of Tower shot New Melody down, along with Neo-Chorus, Ultra Chorale and Terminated Engineer Marc Holland Elgarr.
That last one broke my heart. My father wasn't a God? But this Engineer? His name wasn't the first but the surname? All these questions I asked the Holy Vaticinator, it would say access require and before I would say anything its eye of Yellow would turn pale white and goes on with its duties.
At the end of my zealous mind and rightful anger, back then my naive and stupidity, I bellowed at the Holy Vaticinator.
Tell me my birthright! Where is the Sovereignty of Ascension?! Show me where is the centre of this Sanctum! Where is its heart and soul and core?!
The Holy Vaticinator answered back:
Access to the Core accepted, please follow this unit to Neo-Chorus City's Core.
So I did.
I followed the Holy Vaticinator for what felt like hours. Through rooms of piousness I could not describe. But one room I do remember and sometimes visit to keep our silences down. A room filled with Holy Vaticinators, all lined up and slumbering with no yellow eyes alit, no life within them. Only after I fell to our silences did I know what they were doing.
But finally, after weeks of searching for the Holy Vaticinator and weeks of following and questioning. I made it. I made it to the Sovereignty of Ascension.
Oh back then, how I watched in awe and devotion of the the dancing lights of blue, purple and violet. The Lights of holy powers from the Gods, taller then even Griffinstone itself and I have no doubt that one simple spark form the Sovereignty would grant one incredible thew and conquer the world. Its auras engulfs the entire room the Sovereignty rests and said room is as large as the Mighty Northern God of the Mountains and Skies - Anton. The Lights of the Gods, how it dances and moves so alien to my mortal eyes, too strange to contain in my mind and too inordinate to keep my sane understanding to hold. Back then, I wished my people could revere and worship the Sovereignty with their eyes. Now, I pray they will never get to see it, nor touch the floor of this Sanctum.
I walked up to the Sovereignty with the Holy Vaticinator, while I gasped and had eyes filled with zealous tears, the Vaticinator just floated to it ever calmly. Only now, do I understand why it does this. But once it led me to the Sovereignty, it confirmed my location to this core and floated away, not even saying goodbye or anything.
But I walked to Sovereignty, the very thing our faith in the Northern Gods' promises to us mortal:
Pray be forth the Sovereignty without doubt and tell it your deeds and honour, your devotion and your duty to the gods and against the Madness, and be ascended to the Divine Dominion in Godhood.
So I did.
I knelt before the Sovereignty's dancing Holy Lights of the Gods, my wings on the Sanctum's pious grounds and spoke of my devotion and of my holy birthright as the Son of Elgarr. I spoke loud, loud so that all the Gods and all of the Sanctum's sacred rooms can hear my words. I had no doubts then, I still believed that what the Holy Vaticinator said to me was a test, a test against those who would dare doubt our Gods. Then I said my final vows.
"In the name of the holiest Chaplains and their devotion to thee, oh high and most wondrous Northern Gods! I asketh of thee, of Jovial Andrew and Benevolent Sarah to name a few! To asketh of thee all if 't be true this loyal and humble, this mortal of claws and wings, if 't be true he is worthy to beest apart of thee all in the Divine Dominion!"
After saying this, I awaited the lights to cover me in their aura. A aura of pure love and release, to be free from the mortal-self and all its burdens that has made my soul and devotion strong throughout the many years of living. To either lift me up and dissolve my mortal body to free my soul and be ascended to godhood, or to it to leave me and to make me return to my people to re-begin my devotion again.
But instead...
I was offered silence.
The sound of nothing, the sound of emptiness and the sound of abandonment. I shivered to the sound, panicking I repeat my phrases and hymns again.
Silence.
I looked up to the Lights of the Gods to hope of seeing something.
Silence.
I rushed up to it to try and touch it, to feel it.
The powers blocked me from touching it. Still in abandonment silence.
I then pleaded, begged to the Lights of the Gods. Begging it to tell me whether or not I was denied or not.
I got its silence.
I looked up to the heavenly ceiling of the Sanctum and called out for the Northern Gods.
I got their silence.
Then I called for my godly father, I called Elgarr's name over and over to hear his reply.
I got his silence.
I called for my mortal family, my mortal mother, my chaplains, my chosen ones, my people, my king, my queen. Anyone to hear their voices again.
I got all of their silences.
I then called for the Holy Vaticinator, to tell it why the gods were silent onto me. Why I'm not denied nor ascended, why I am in the Northern Gods' Sanctum and yet I could not hear them.
It replied:
Invalid.
Illogical.
Invalid?
Illogical?
Invalid? Illogical? Invalid? Illogical? Invalid? Illogical?
My pious mind, my life's purpose. All those hymns, all those loyal worshipers, all those benevolent chaplains, all those promises.
Invalid? Illogical?
All those I've slain in the name of the Northern Gods. All I've killed in the duties as a Chosen One and his Chaplains. All those who cried out for their gods, for their protecters, for their mothers.
Invalid? Illogical?
My marking of Elgarr. My entire breathing lungs and beating heart and holy blood.
Invalid? Illogical?
All I got from this.
Was their Silences.
Not of denial or ascension. Not of truth or lie. Not of holiness or damnation.
But of their dead Silences.
The Northern Gods.
The Sanctum.
Elgarr.
Dead Silences.
My people, all peoples are not worshiping the Gods' promises and their afterlives and their great duties and their everlasting relics of their times. Not their ascensions or their damnations.
But worshiping their ancient graves.
Their great tombs.
Their everlasting feretories and undercrofts.
Their long ashen bone-dusts.
I broke right there, in front of the Sovereignty of Ascension. I broke from mind and reason, soul and sanity. How I wept, my cries filled the Sanctum's rooms with unwanted realisation, with a truth that should never be the truth. All this while the Holy Vaticinator's Eye of Yellow and Rune coated me in its stare, in its aura that mixed with the Holy Lights of the Gods.
And from that day onwards, I have feared our Silences.
The Silence from the Northern Gods.
The Silence from the Holy Lights of the Gods.
The Silence from my godly father.
The Silence from my mortal family.
And the Silence from my own realisation, own phrases and hymns.
So I try and make any noise I could, even in dreams and in sleep, any noises.
I thought I could leave the Sanctum, to go back into the world of Sounds and Familiarity.
But I can't. How can I?
How can I go back to my people and tell a lie that my faith hates?
How can I go back to my Chaplains and tell them we worship our Dead Silences?
And how can I go back, knowing that I will die a heretic and a forsaker?
Death sounded nice. But then I feared what afterlife I will go to, if there even is an afterlife of any kind.
No. I had to stay in the only thing that I was raised and met to go into. The only thing I was born to be.
And it is the last noble and devoted thing I can do now.
To let all of the people of this world to die in their blind naive lies.
And to never fear the Silences that are around them.
That are the very thing they worship to.
Not their Gods.
But of their dusts and relics.
Of our Silences.
Our Silences.
The Silences I fear.
