The Memory of Kaenalye

You hold a shattered memory stone in your hands, gripping and squeezing. A torrent of soft blue light issues from between your fingers, flooding your body, mind and spirit with well-being. At the same time, your awareness swims chaotically, filled with a memory, not yours, of times long ago:

<<< The world is shattered: A thousand thoughts pass through My mind. They scatter like bright fish in deep water. I slash the air with My hand and My thoughts, the sharp blade a smile away from My Sister's throat. >>>

<<< "She's gone feral! Dynara help us!" Golden arms of My Brother wrap about Me, embracing as tight as death. While My Sister, My love, My resplendent Maylea is drawn away... >>>

<<< Go Maylea! Go, Oh My soul! My thoughts converge like frozen fractals: Yes, I hurt Her, to save Her from Myself... My heart breaks even as My mind has already broken. >>>

<<< Returning through the wild fluctuations of thought, Eventru emerges without Maylea and leads Me away from all that I know and love, for I am shattered. >>>


<<< Blue. I am not dead. My mind swirls like a maelstrom. Where is Maylea? The sky is blue, and the ground, blue with My essence. >>>

<<< "Her mind is shattered from the loss of Dynara. We must put Her to sleep, as We planned!" Brother? Eventru? I reach out towards a golden mass, which moves away. My thoughts percolate like waterfalls over cliffs and drops. "Better to sleep for now, until We can heal Her. Maylea is beside Herself!" >>>

<<< My Brother places a hand upon Me. I struggle, My hands like daggers. Mine eyes gaze into His, golden eyes of the masterful, and I see the shape of His soul. He will be a leader, I say to Maylea who is not beside Me; where is She? But His hands cover Mine eyes, and a geis of sleep falls upon Me against My will. >>>

<<< And across the worlds, I hear Maylea cry as Our lifebond breaks, Her voice full of despair, "I should have died with Her!" >>>

<<< Before I lose consciousness, I look into Myself. The shreds of My soul: Shattered. Shattered. Shattered... >>>

<<< "She is painting flowers, Kaenalye." I rise from deep dreams to hear the voice of My Brother Eventru. "The bluebells, She coloured them for You." Blue. I blink and turn, falling back into the depths of darkness. >>>

<<< Eventru's voice echoes on through My dreams, "Maylea thinks You are dead," The chaos and fractals chuckle, "But when You are well again, one day, We will bring You together once more." His voice is golden, like the light of Mother Dynara. "Just think, what a joyful day that will be!" >>>

<<< I dream of Maylea. I dream of Our wakening together under the Song of Dynara. I see Her form, the rainbow of Her soul, and I cry out: 'Dynara made a mistake! There are two of Me!' >>>

<<< The dream swirls, and the Song is lost. All that there is is Silence, chaos, fractals ever spiralling out of control... >>>

<<< "The War goes badly, Sister." The golden voice of My Brother is tired. I hear Him as if across a great distance. "We will visit when We can. That is a promise." >>>

<<< My thoughts spiral like a maelstrom. Creation shakes in battle, and My resting place falls out of sync with reality. >>>

<<< He promised, and yet all there is is Silence. >>>

<<< Dreams grow dark of late. Abominations without Soul. Kaleidoscopes of Form without Meaning. Devouring. Consuming. All colours run to black. >>>

<<< No voice of Brother. No voice of Lover. Silence reigns and My mind breaks without Song. Across the worlds, there is Hunger. The last words I heard: "The War goes badly, Sister." >>>

<<< The shattering of thousands, like and unlike the breaking of My mind, time and timelessness ago. I feel Souls unwinding, Essence multiplying and diminishing. >>>
15525h, 12368m, 9895e, 10p Belrxd<>- /20:06:56.750/

<<< Is this the end? Oh My Maylea, perhaps You are already shattered. Perhaps You have died before Me after all... >>>

<<< So I splinter and shard Myself, and I will find You across a thousand worlds. I leave My eye open, so that I will never stop looking. >>>

The light fades from between your fingers and the stone goes quiescent.

A shattered memory stone crumbles to dust in your hands, its virtue spent.