Hands ran through dark hair, making it even messier than before as it stuck out in all sorts of directions. Sikes sat by a large river with a map in front of him, his hunting knife stuck through it and into a stump to prevent the wind from taking it. He himself sat on his hands and knees, his mind racing as he tried to discern which direction he should be heading.
He pulled a stone out of his pocket, anxiously turning the dark gem over and over before holding it with his fingertips and staring into it. His own dark eyes stared back before he closed them. Centering himself, Sikes took a deep breath and opened them. The flat surface of the stone swirled as his reflection disappeared and an image of the Bastion graced the surface. He started to smile, anxious to see himself traveling or even just arriving, hoping he was on the right track.
Darkness leaked into the image, making it blurry and then completely disrupting the view, something covering the Bastion completely. Another Fire was going out, it must be… why else would his visions be so dark again. It was as if Novissah was fading all over again, the terror of where the world was headed and of this thing he couldn’t quite grasp almost overwhelming him. He threw the stone aside, afraid to see more, knowing no answers were open to him.
The sun was low in the sky… Sikes would have to set up camp on the river bank. He stared into the water for a moment, seeing it rush past in a dark blur, the sun hardly touching it. The dark shape of something rushed past him and he looked away. He couldn’t stand to look at water for too long; recent visions of it left him drained, the dark shape that haunted him almost taunting him whenever he looked at water. It almost made Novissah’s blessing seem a curse, though he’d never give it up for anything.
Heroes weren’t often made, not when Sikes was born. Not that he thought himself a hero; he was more interested in books and helping people than he was weapons and conquering. Sure, he could hunt and he had basic survival skills down, but he could maybe defend himself from another person. It was quite fortunate for Sikes that he lived in this time of peace or he’d probably have been lost to bandits long ago.
Ah, yes, heroes… They didn’t come along often anymore. He had made a name for himself through his devotion to a dead Goddess, through an ability she had blessed him with as a small child. He was unsure why she chose him, why the five year old praying to her and offering her the hunting knife he’d forged the day before with his father had caught her attention. They’d returned a week later to pray again and the knife was still there, but now engraved with Novissah’s name. When he’d picked it up, he’d had his first vision, in which she spoke to him. ”You’ve been given a gift,” she’d told him, flashes of events that had happened or were happening or would happen flying by him to quickly to process.
Sikes wasn’t even sure he’d been worth it. He couldn’t save her in the end, couldn’t even figure out what demonic being had killed her… and it was happening again. He glanced at his feet at the thought, shame flowing through him at his failures.
He spent the time the sun spent sinking below the horizon setting up his camp. It was warm out and he wasn’t overly concerned about predators; there wasn’t much to fear in the area in which he was located, the small forest through which he traveled. He was just getting ready to sleep when he felt it, the strong pull of a waking vision.
Another God was dying. Sikes knew, in that moment, that Novissah would not be the only one to fall. He could see the Bastion of light, the doors sealed shut tightly against all visitors, as it had been since Novissah’s fire had faltered. He could see the High Priests frantically working, attempting to save this small flame, the Great Fire flaring a bit lower than usual in sympathy. He felt himself stumble with the weight of this knowledge, knees scraping against the ground. He blindly threw out his hands to catch himself, falling against his earlier table, knife still sunk into it.
He could hear the water roaring past, startlingly loud, as he watched the priests fight for the fire, bringing out books and scrolls and anything they thought might have an answer. Offerings were made to the God in question, attempts to strengthen them against whatever was attacking them. Sikes was suddenly aware that he’d been holding his breath, that he was wet and cold… fear struck at him as he tried to breathe and found water rushing into his lungs.
The vision was consuming him, killing him even. He attempted to swim, Sikes’ arms like lead as he fought panic and exhaustion and…
This damn power will be my death. What was Novissah thinking…?
It was his last thought as the vision faded along with his life and Sikes could feel nothing but despair in his last moments, having failed every God that would fall to this beast.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
What…?
Drip. Drip. Drip.
What is that…?
Drip. Drip.
That sounds like water. I think there’s a stream nearby...
Drip.
Sikes awoke with a start, bolting upright in what would have been a comical fashion had anyone been around to see it. He was cold, a light breeze causing him to shiver… water was pooled around him, trickling down some rocks and dripping off of them as if it had recently rained. He sat in the path of the stream; upon standing it all continued downhill, on its merry way.
I must have washed ashore, he thought to himself, astonished that he hadn’t drowned. A glance at the water offered nothing; the urgency he’d felt before, when he’d been sure he was dying, had diminished greatly. Almost as if the threat had passed, though Sikes didn’t think he had been unconscious for that long.
He tried to get his bearings, looking at his surroundings and the sun in an attempt to judge where he was from his camp. Sikes brushed his hair out of his eyes as it plastered itself to his face, small rivulets of water dripping from him. Shivering at the slightest breeze, he began walking, hoping to find something familiar soon. Traveling upstream left him no closer to finding his things, though he didn’t think he could have been washed away too far.
As he walked, Sikes noticed his clothes seemed… rough. Not aged, exactly, but there was something odd about how the simple clothes (a brown tunic and pants, nothing exciting, really) hung on him. He thought nothing of it, continuing his trek upstream.
The Bastion of Light stood before him, tall and proud and… disparaged. The doors opened to reveal Ansur - the Ansur! - standing before soldiers with not a single flame to be found around him… even the Great Fire had been put out. There was no sound to be heard, which almost seemed a sound itself, as if Sikes was in a void or something was actively absorbing the sound… like a dark creature, lurking, waiting, biding its time…
He pulled himself out of it, trying to demand the vision be over. Something was wrong, horribly wrong… That had to be the future, Sikes thought, though he knew it wasn’t. Somehow, right at that moment, not a single God remained in the realm. The sense of urgency returned to Sikes now, the clairvoyant suddenly feeling very much like all of Ansus was in danger from that which had brought low the great beings of the universe.
The year didn’t matter, nor did any of Sikes worldly belongings. He sat, cross-legged, then began to breathe deeply, falling into a meditative state, willing a vision or feeling or anything to come to him, to reveal where he must go. To leave his knife in this forest would be a waste, yes, along with his mortal belongings, but nothing was more important than talking to the High Priests, learning anything they’d discovered since his last visit, and helping stop the creature.
There was a faint pull on his mind and Sikes opened his eyes and stood, beginning his trek to the Bastion of Light, where hopefully he would find the answers he so desperately searched for.