"That damnable child..."
A voice, thick and strong.
"...Wrong place, wrong time..."
Not unsimilar to that of an old man's.
"Maybe we can salvage this..."
A young girl's?-- No, a young boy...
"The whole damned thing's gone to hell!"
That was a woman- had to be...
"Calm yourself, all is not lost- merely redirected. We must take time to think about this. Weight the odds...rewrite the Fate."
The young boy- or was it a girl? Kal couldn't tell- again. What was all this- why could he hear it? Kal wondered where he was, why he was feeling this. The more the voices spoke the more clear the blackness around him became.
"It would seem Kallain Windral is our new Hero."
At last, the chorus of unfamiliar voices stopped echoing in his mind, and before Kal- or, at least, what he perceived to be before him- was a solid oak wood door. He walked towards it- but he didn't walk, for he had no body in the blackness. He just perceived himself as walking. He drew closer and closer to the door- or what felt like nearness to the door, or really what he perceived as a door- and found the deadened silence to weight heavier on him than the chorus. The Chorus- that was what Kal decided to call them. The Chorus. It was an apt name he felt, but at the same time felt as if was provided to him by the blackness he experienced. The Chorus- the words seemed to spring up from the back of his mind as he neared the door.
And as he neared the door, he felt himself reaching out towards it. He did not even come near to touching its handle when a voice crashed into his mind like a hurricane and smashed any semblance of rational thought and comprehension he had into nothingness.
"Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!" Reinoldus' voice was simultaneously a hammer to the chisel that had split his skull and a wash of fresh air into his thoughts. It was something familiar in this foreign black place, thus he clung to it- gripped it with all his might and pulled on Reinoldus with his mind. He pulled and pulled and pulled, as if wresting a great fish from the ocean, and soon found the blackness receding and a great pain filling him- along with a distinct feeling of restraint. The blackness of his mind was soon filled with a painful brightness- color and substance returning to him...and the door fading away from his sight.
He coughed and sputtered, wheezing heavily as his body's thrashing soon slowed....then stopped. He blinked his eyes open and realized he had never opened them until now, and that sensation chilled him more than the pain he had felt just moments ago. He blinked until his vision was clear, and what he saw was a strange sight; Reinoldus had Kal pinned, the knight bracing Kal's body against the ground as two incredibly terrified Yelb's stood nearby- and a decent crowd was forming to worry over the Prince. When Kal tried to move his jaw to speak, he found he couldn't due to the high contents of foam and saliva in his mouth- but that was hardly an issue as Reinoldus' hand slapped him silly and made him expunge the contents of his mouth across the ground as he coughed and found that the blow returned life to his mouth and lungs.
"What just-" he managed to sputter out inbetween his coughing fits, his spasms gone now- Reinoldus thus releasing him. He brought his hands to his face to wipe at it, and found that the statuette was back in his hand- but this time it felt familiar, as if it belonged there, as if he needed it or else something terrible would happen. This was a conflicted feeling for the young prince, who had just experienced a horrendous affair at the behest of the statuette, but now he suddenly felt inclined to hold onto it...
"Get that damned thing away from him!" Reinoldus barked, pulling Kal up to a sitting position to make sure he could breathe. He went to grab at the statuette- and Kal flinched, pulling it away from his friend who looked at Kal incredulously.
"...Reinoldus just trust me on this, I can't explain it, but I need to hold onto this."
A voice, thick and strong.
"...Wrong place, wrong time..."
Not unsimilar to that of an old man's.
"Maybe we can salvage this..."
A young girl's?-- No, a young boy...
"The whole damned thing's gone to hell!"
That was a woman- had to be...
"Calm yourself, all is not lost- merely redirected. We must take time to think about this. Weight the odds...rewrite the Fate."
The young boy- or was it a girl? Kal couldn't tell- again. What was all this- why could he hear it? Kal wondered where he was, why he was feeling this. The more the voices spoke the more clear the blackness around him became.
"It would seem Kallain Windral is our new Hero."
At last, the chorus of unfamiliar voices stopped echoing in his mind, and before Kal- or, at least, what he perceived to be before him- was a solid oak wood door. He walked towards it- but he didn't walk, for he had no body in the blackness. He just perceived himself as walking. He drew closer and closer to the door- or what felt like nearness to the door, or really what he perceived as a door- and found the deadened silence to weight heavier on him than the chorus. The Chorus- that was what Kal decided to call them. The Chorus. It was an apt name he felt, but at the same time felt as if was provided to him by the blackness he experienced. The Chorus- the words seemed to spring up from the back of his mind as he neared the door.
And as he neared the door, he felt himself reaching out towards it. He did not even come near to touching its handle when a voice crashed into his mind like a hurricane and smashed any semblance of rational thought and comprehension he had into nothingness.
"Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!" Reinoldus' voice was simultaneously a hammer to the chisel that had split his skull and a wash of fresh air into his thoughts. It was something familiar in this foreign black place, thus he clung to it- gripped it with all his might and pulled on Reinoldus with his mind. He pulled and pulled and pulled, as if wresting a great fish from the ocean, and soon found the blackness receding and a great pain filling him- along with a distinct feeling of restraint. The blackness of his mind was soon filled with a painful brightness- color and substance returning to him...and the door fading away from his sight.
He coughed and sputtered, wheezing heavily as his body's thrashing soon slowed....then stopped. He blinked his eyes open and realized he had never opened them until now, and that sensation chilled him more than the pain he had felt just moments ago. He blinked until his vision was clear, and what he saw was a strange sight; Reinoldus had Kal pinned, the knight bracing Kal's body against the ground as two incredibly terrified Yelb's stood nearby- and a decent crowd was forming to worry over the Prince. When Kal tried to move his jaw to speak, he found he couldn't due to the high contents of foam and saliva in his mouth- but that was hardly an issue as Reinoldus' hand slapped him silly and made him expunge the contents of his mouth across the ground as he coughed and found that the blow returned life to his mouth and lungs.
"What just-" he managed to sputter out inbetween his coughing fits, his spasms gone now- Reinoldus thus releasing him. He brought his hands to his face to wipe at it, and found that the statuette was back in his hand- but this time it felt familiar, as if it belonged there, as if he needed it or else something terrible would happen. This was a conflicted feeling for the young prince, who had just experienced a horrendous affair at the behest of the statuette, but now he suddenly felt inclined to hold onto it...
"Get that damned thing away from him!" Reinoldus barked, pulling Kal up to a sitting position to make sure he could breathe. He went to grab at the statuette- and Kal flinched, pulling it away from his friend who looked at Kal incredulously.
"...Reinoldus just trust me on this, I can't explain it, but I need to hold onto this."