The mont his ntal touch brushed the surface, the world seed to scream with the weight of eons.
"Argh!" Sol’s ntal projection buckled, his knees hitting the taphorical floor of his mind.
A violent surge of information flooded his psyche, a torrential downpour of data that would have crushed anything man. Images of stars collapsing, empires rising from dust, and the very fabric of reality being stitched together flashed behind his eyelids. Through the chaos, a na echoed, vibrating in his marrow: Orphos.
Other than the obvious confirmation of its na...Orphos...Sol finally understood the truth of his predicant and why he had been cast into this war-torn jungle.
As the artifact’s history unraveled in his thoughts, he learned that Orphos had been adrift in the void since the beginning of ti, a vagabond of the cosmos searching for a host that could bear its weight. He saw glimpses of legendary kings and even entities that radiated the blinding light of gods; all had attempted to claim it, and without exception, all had been rejected, the artifact didn’t budge against their existence.
Oh, there was one exception...Isylia. Unlike the others, she had the weird power, which made the artifact angry. In her divine arrogance, she had tried to unmake it. The mory within the artifact pulsed with a sense of grim irony, in her attempt to destroy it, she had instead beco its permanent resident, snared and trapped within its internal dinsion for an eternity.
If she hadn’t t him, she really would have remained trapped in that space for literal eternity, as the divine power, which gods are so proud of, doesn’t work in there.
So that’s why she’s so bitter, Sol thought, a grimace forming on his face. I’d be pissed too if I got caught in the trap I tried to break. But it was indeed her fault, so she should really be grateful. I’d definitely get the gratitude out of her once I t her again.
Since then, Orphos had been randomly appearing and disappearing across the realms, continuing its search until it finally found it fated host: Sol. Him.
But the revelation deepened, turning from history to a terrifying warning. Orphos hadn’t just bonded with him, it had fused with his soul, becoming an inextricable part of his very being. It was a part of him now, like a limb or a lung. However, his mortal soul was a frail vessel for such primordial power. To prevent him from instantly detonating into cosmic dust, the artifact had slamd shut its own gates, sealing away the vast majority of its power.
This sealed state was the reason for his current exile.
There was a strict limit on how long he could remain within the artifact’s internal dinsion while it was in this weakened, sealed state. Because he had been too distracted... preoccupied with the "fun" he was having with the goddess Isylia... the limit had been reached unnoticed.
Once the internal tir hit its peak, Orphos had simply perford a "system purge." It had flushed him out like excess weight, discarding him into the nearest compatible reality... which happened to be this battle-scarred wasteland.
"You’ve got to be kidding ," Sol groaned, his voice echoing in the chamber of his mind. "I’m in this place because I was busy having fun?"
He didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry at the reason. Because in the end it was the fault of his own lower head.
But still, now that he knew the reason, he tried to order it to get him back, but it didn’t budge.
He lunged forward, trying to grip the compass needles, willing the artifact to reactivate and tear a hole back to the Osari tribe. Take back to Lyra. Take back to the girls.
But the needles remained cold. Dead.
After wrestling for a while he was tired, so he searched his mind for the reason.
And really found it, It needed energy to tear a hole and get him back, it wouldn’t have been much of an issue, if it was in its peak form.
But unfortunately, now In its current state, Orphos was like a massive furnace trying to restart with a single match. Its energy absorption was severely limited, it was like trying to fill a vast ocean through a pinhole. The only good news was that it was recovering. The "stars" swirling within the liquid obsidian were beginning to pulse again, but it was a slow, agonizing rhythm.
Months. The realization settled in his gut like a brutal punch. He could feel that it would take at least a few months for the artifact to gather enough essence to bridge the gap between where he was and where he belonged. Until then, he was trapped in this war-torn mystical place.
With a violent jolt, Sol’s consciousness was snapped back into his physical body.
His eyes popped open in the dimness of the hut, He lay there motionless for a while, absorbing the newfound information.
The silence of the room, which had felt heavy before, now felt even more unbearable, after the cosmic scale of the vision he had just witnessed.
"Months," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I’m stuck here for months."
The weight of the distance... not just in miles, but in power and mystery... pressed down on him. He thought of Lyra’s smile, Nia’s obedient smile, the passion of Evara, and of course, the way the girls laughed realizing that they won’t have to worry about food again.
They would think he was dead. Or worse, they would wait for a return that wasn’t coming anyti soon.
He exhaled a breath that was even heavier and more weary than the one he had drawn before. The world outside was still mourning, still screaming in its own way, but Sol finally understood the scale of the climb ahead.
If he wanted to return, he’d have to sohow survive in this war-torn tribe, and if he wanted to survive in this place filled with monsters and other races, he’d have to learn to utilize the power of phantoms.
User Comments
0 comments from readers