What did one do in the realm of death? Could you die again, forever, or did you die repeatedly until insanity tore your mind to shreds and you couldn't make it back? Or was true death in that other place? Lor-Torren Maildun – the Lethe? True oblivion – where your memories faded. Did others' memories of you fade there also? Torion knew there were plenty of souls here, floating around apparently aimlessly. He had pieced together something of the history of this afterlife place. Not everyone here had died; some were born and lived their lives here, and the place was ruled by a race who called themselves the Second People. They had fled here at some time, from another plane. Why the Second People? Who were the First People? Was there a Third People?
He had not yet uncovered the answers to those mysteries. Torion had been to many worlds before he died, at least, he thought he had. He wished he could remember. What had Marrow Tend said? That he was needed? He still didn't understand what that meant. Needed by whom?
Thinking of Marrow Tend sent shivers down his spine at times. He reminded him of someone. Someone he had most likely known while alive. The other thing Marrow Tend had said was something about coming through the Lethe. He had lost his memory there?
He had lost almost all of his past. Thoughts slipping in and out of his mind, too fast to grasp a hold of. He had come here from another world. The Lethe. But he had come through that place. He concentrated on holding all this in his mind at once. Something had happened and he couldn't remember any longer. He came through the Lethe. He came from somewhere else.
Somewhere else. Where?
Did Marrow Tend know where?
It was likely. He seemed to know a lot.
What had the Lethe done to him? It was more than just a loss of scenes and images. Not simply a loss of the record of events in his life. No, he had lost more than that. He had trouble holding onto new memories. He thought he could form them easily enough, but recalling them? That was where the problem lay. Something gumming up his mind. Was it even because of the Lethe? The wandering souls of this realm could not have all come through that place. If what Marrow Tend said was true, they would have lost themselves there. Died the final death.
If he was not dead, could he get out? He had come from somewhere. The Lethe?
No. He had come through the Lethe. He had to remember that.
Could he escape? If he did, would he be able to remember?
Could only a soul travel the rivers between realms? Or did it not matter because he was now a soul?
He had nothing but time to think, but he would escape. Somehow.
In the time he had been here, he had been assigned a sparsely-furnished room. Fine sandstone walls insulated it, keeping it a comfortable temperature at all times. Striped woollen blankets, each thread a different colour, hung in front of the windows allowing him to choose between fresh air and natural light. A candle sat on a stone block, also fine sandstone, which served as a side table for the bed, which had a similarly styled stone frame and a mattress made from woven brown fibres which were quite comfortable to lie on.
He was not sure how long had passed. In actual face it was only a couple of days but his slippery memory would not allow him to calculate this. Perhaps he should keep a record, every day when he went to bed. Though he'd have to remember to record it.
He could ask someone but he would just forget! It was pointless! He had to get this fixed.
He left to seek out Marrow Tend, repeating his quest in his mind so he wouldn't forget it.
No comments:
Post a Comment