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The Breaking and the Gift


Romegypt

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Irol looked behind him as he hurried down the empty corridor. Something wasn’t right. He was going to find out what.

            Bulbs of glass on the walls glowed with a blue green light, through the power of Andolesium-Creation. Two lights near the end of the corridor were dim. He had warned them. Now he had to stop it.

            Irol felt anger well up inside of him. Many would die if he didn’t stop this madness. No one could control the power of creation, no matter how they tried. He told them. And now that power was fading. It needed a jolt. Something to revitalize it. It needed something to fix.

            What better to for the power of creation to fix, than itself?

            He threw open a grand looking door, with intricate carvings all over it. Carvings from the beginning of time. Many of the things nearby were from the beginning of time. He walked to the center of the room, where a small vessel sat floating. The consciousness of ages -no, millenniums old- occupied this particular jar. It was nothing too fancy.  A simple clay jar, bound by the power of creation.

            Who is this?

            He bowed. “I am Irol, Caretaker of Ishtavum. “I would free you.”

            Free me? That has happened only once before. It was not good for your kind.

            “I feel your power diminishing, oh great power. I must fix it.”

            You can fix little human.

            The sounds resounded through his skull with a pounding, though not a painful one. They were merely powerful, and were accompanied by visions. Visions of things that had happened last time the power had been freed.

            Irol saw millions of people, dying in the struggle. A struggle between an unseen power, and the power of creation.

            You are correct. My power grows dimmer each day. Those do not listen to you. But do you really wish to unleash me upon the world? He will come. It is the only time he can defeat me, when I am fragmented.

            “Great power, what do you mean fragmented?”

            To fix myself, I must separate, into many different pieces, and repair each one individually. Then, they must be reunited. It will take years before I am completely repaired, perhaps millennia. You must ensure that I will not be taken by the One, and used, turned. Otherwise, time and the universe, will be no more. It is how the world works.

            “Oh great power, please, tell me. Who is the One?” Irol asked, turning the information around in his head. He had not expected this.

            He is the One. The only one who could dare defy me. He hates me. You would not be able to know his name, but humans used to call him Odius, The power of destruction. He once was a part of me. Now he takes what he must, and I let him, for I cannot stop him. Only so much can be created at once, but he does not see that if he destroys everything, there will be nothing left for him. All he sees is now. He has not wisdom, nor does he have self-control.

            “But great one, surely, if your power vanishes-“

            Yes little one. Then he will rule anyways. That is why I was repaired so long ago. In ages lost to history, that will never be found by anyone. Hmmmm. I sense someone. They are coming to stop you. You must hurry. Should you attempt to heal me, make sure an order is established, for Odius must not obtain a shard. With it he will attempt to destroy the others, and then he will destroy that one. Should he do that, the world will surely fall. No, the universe.

            Irol looked behind him, hearing footfalls in the distance. “How do I Start the process?”

            You already have, The voice rumbled in his head. You need only finish it. Break the vessel. It is that simple. Information came into his head. A gift. Irol sagged, feeling electricity run through him. He felt ice, and fire flowing through him. He felt pain, and peace, He felt imagination.

            There is another place. Spread these gifts to them. For if Odius comes for them, they will need them. You need only think. Do not stay. For your fears and nightmares will destroy those you give a gift to.

            “Irol! What are you doing!”

            Irol whirled around, his eyes glowing with power. “I am saving us, Thordar.”

            “No!” He scrambled across the room, and grasped Irols shoulders. “You would kill us all!” he screamed. Guards came in behind him.

            “We will die anyways!” Irol roared. “When the power fails, and Odius comes, We all will die!”

            “What is this madness? Odius? Right yourself Irol! Or we will lock you in chains, and banish you, to lands never seen!” Thordar yelled.

            Irols eyes sparked. “Never,” He whispered.

            He gestured his hand at the vessel, and sent forth a burst of power. The vessel burst into dust.

            Blue light enveloped them all. A screeching in their heads sounded, making them all fall to the floor. Whisps of red, green, blue, and all the other colors spewed around the room in streams. A huge tearing sounded, and sixteen separate colors separated into different areas of the room, then solidified. Irol wasn’t sure what they solidified into, but they whirled around, and then shot into the sky. “No!” Thordar screamed. “No! You have no Idea the calamity you have caused!” he screeched at Irol.

            “I have saved us,” Irol said, starting to float in the air. “And I will save them. I will give them the gift. They will fight their fire, with hearts of steel. And they will prevent it. Should creation fall, or should Odius come for them, they will be able to stop him.”

            One of the guards looked at him. A small wisp of blue light entered into him, as did it to the other guards. Four guards in all. The other guards fell to the ground, dead, as they could not handle the power it was granting.

            The remaining guard started singing.

            He sang of a race, between a man and a storm. He sung of cities fallen, of magic failing because of huge canyons torn into the ground. He sang of prophecies, changed to suit needs, and of sisters who saved each other. He sang of all of this in an instant.

            And collapsed.

            Irol walked over to the guard, and put a hand on his shoulder. “What is your name, man?”

            The guard looked at him like he was crazy, blue light in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Hoid, My lord.”

            “Hoid,” He said. “I must leave. You must protect those shards. It is your final duty to creation. In my absence, guard them with your life. Should any try anything, stop them. If you can’t, bid your time until you can. And help the people here. Send them my message.”

            He nodded. “I will do so, my lord”

            Irol nodded, and then vanished.

            He appeared floating in a dark space. He felt very little. And then the hatred came.

            The fear of everything, the wish to destroy.

            I seem to have caught you little human. I am Odius. I will rend you in two.

            “Why!” Irol shouted. “Why would you do this?!”

            You will not save a single one of them. They are evil, in their hearts. Man does not care for one another. They only wish to destroy.

            He didn’t believe it. But part of him did. The grip of the hatred left a small scar. He felt Odius start to tear his soul.

            “No.”

            He screamed as he let go his power. Odius stopped, then renewed his efforts. He succeeded.

            But he failed.

            He merely separated Irol. He took all the good, and the bad, and separated them. Irol used his power.

            He sent himself into two different realities of the same place.

            You are calamity, the voice said in his head, as it faded. You are a liar.

            “No!” Shouted Irol, the one who had no goodness, only his pledge to creation. He would carry it out. But man was evil, and he would not help them. No he would wait, and he would watch, for years, until he found one that wasn’t.

            You are a liar.

            “I am not,” He said. “I am not.”

            You are renamed, Irol. I name you larcener.

            “No!” Irol screamed. “No, I will show you, I will give it to them!”

            Irol- Now Larcener- started to glow red. He lifted off the ground, and he unleashed his power. He sent it into many of the men. He made them epic.

            But he did not leave. He had to see. He had to know if they would stay good or not.

            He did not know, he had been sent to only twenty or so years before Odious would come down to their world. Were they had things called cars, and guns. Were they would learn to make incredible devices from their dead epics.

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