Sorry I forgot to post yesterday. It was a crazy day.
Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
by Charles Matthias and Ryx
Pars VI: Acceptio
(g)
Saturday, May 12, 708 CR
His Master turned about the garden there was no
sign of the fissure through which they'd passed
until he was staring between two rivers toward a
small rise beyond which the golden clouds were
visible. A ray of light descended from the clouds
filled with a scintillating radiance that left
the patch of clover a cascade of different
colors. Standing in the clover was a small
human-shaped rat. The fur of his belly and arms
was white, but his head and back were black as if
he were draped with a cloak. His eyes, dark and
warm, were filled with a clarity and benevolence that called to him.
It is your son, Núrodur Nuruhuinë. Reach out and
bring him into the shadow and you will be one
forever. This is what you have been seeking. This
is my promise fulfilled to you.
Obedient, the shadow he was stretched forward to engulf the rat child.
An adoring smile stretched the rat's whiskers and
cheeks. The voice was high-pitched and touched by
an occasional squeak, yet it rang clear through
his Master's ears. Dada! Look at Momma! She loves you still!
Balked, the shadow turned inward toward that
single pinprick. Crushed into that hole in all
that remained of his being was three images
layered one atop the other. In each he saw a lady
rat, beautiful and resplendent as the garden of
light. Her hands and his were bound together by
more than mere strength. Her voice, silent in the
midst of the flames, now echoed within the melody
of the birdsong that surrounded them.
Charles beware! He is false! The words echoed
as if cried by every little creature hidden
within the garden atop the mountain. He felt the
stirring of anguish press against him once more.
You must choose, Núrodur Nuruhuinë. I have guided
you to your son as I promised. That last crumb
you have will be gone when you claim your son. If
you do not you can never know the peace of
shadow. You will instead suffer the anguish of
flame for all eternity. I yearn to give you that
peace, I have done everything I can to bring it
to you. I have shown you what it will be like and
allowed you a foretaste of it. But now you must choose.
Dada, his son said in a voice sweet and simple, listen to Momma!
Listen to me, Núrodur Nuruhuinë. Claim your son.
She had called him 'Charles'. His Master called
him 'Núrodur Nuruhuinë'. She told him to beware.
His Master counseled him to claim his son for the
shadow. She told him that there was one who was
false. His Master promised him either peace or pain for his choice.
Momma. The rat lady was the mother of his son.
The mother who nurtured with love. The mother who
enveloped life and bore such sweet fruit.
His Master. The caster of shadow and the will
that seared flame through all. Through the shadow
he was a bringer of death. Through the shadow he
shrieked. All else was char and ash.
One true. One false. One choice.
He turned his thought between Son, Master, and
Momma. The idea was shared with his Master as
soon as it came to him. I cannot claim my son if
I abandon his mother too. I cannot!
You do not need her anymore. You have me.
You... Master... who are you?
You know who I am. Now claim your son. It is the only thing you can do.
He rose upward from the shadow, a being coated in
the darkness from which he'd sprung, and turned
once more toward the rat child. One arm stretched
outward. The hooded rat child made no move to
avoid him, but only gazed where a face should be
and smiled. I love you, Dada. But Momma's right. He is false.
He turned back to his Master and stared into his
face as if seeing it for the first time. He was
an Åelf of sterling beauty and porcelain
countenance. Long silvery black hair descended
across his shoulders and over ears drawn to
exquisite points. Radiant eyes the color of a
clear day's sky shone and shaped like perfect
almonds gazed with implacable command back at
him. Thin lips were set in a smile of magnanimous
pleasure. There was no sense of age to him. He
was permanent and ancient beyond reckoning. He was majesty itself taken form.
He was false.
Núrodur Nuruhuinë was the name of the shadow of
his Master. Charles was the name of the rat boy's
father. The two could not be the same. That was
the choice his Master had set before him.
But he was not alone in having a name. It
unfolded within him from between the images as if
they were leaves pressed in a book. It sprang
forth from his thoughts like a thunderclap. The
fruit shook and the leaves rustled as of a strong wind gusting through.
You are Yajakali. As if Núrodur Nuruhuinë had
thought nothing and did not speak the Åelf's
countenance did not waver, his calm regard aloof
in its stony neutrality. Unlike the forgotten
concept of ant or squirrel, or the ragged memory
he had pieced together to realize that he had a
son through which he had suffered such torture to
find, the name sprang unbidden, whole and clear within his thoughts.
Choose, Núrodur Nuruhuinë. Be mine ever more and
claim your son for our work. All will be set aright.
No. I cannot.
He felt an intense pain beyond anything the light
had struck him with before. It ravaged him
through every mote and he screamed. It was not
fire nor was it ice. It was nullity. It was
consumption and the very touch of uncreation that
ripped him apart in that endless moment. Even the
images of the lady rat, Momma, were barely held
in check as they were eviscerated by that awful power.
Turn and take your son!
Through the torment, the agony, the absence of
being that scoured him as a stone in a cataract
the lady rat held his hand, unphased. That grasp
upon his fingers was an unwavering anchor and
Núrodur Nuruhuinë felt himself drawn toward it
though the shadow clung to him like a shroud.
Upon her bodice the stone remained, its cool
purple light shrinking to a pinpoint of blinding brilliance.
No. I cannot!
Her hands were dismembered finger by finger until
only a blank stump remained. One of her eyes became a hole of black.
Take your son! For me!
No! I cannot!
An ear was sliced to ribbons and her nose was
swallowed inward like a crater. Her incisors shattered into daggers.
Claim your son! I am your Master!
No! I will not! No!
Momma's other ear was shredded and then removed
entirely. Her left cheek was a cavity of black
and both her eyes were caverns of shadow. Each
whisker was yanked free. Only the stone remained untouched.
There is nothing left for you but me! You are Núrodur Nuruhuinë! You are mine!
Her face was finally obliterated by the fog of
unmaking. He turned from that to stare into the
stone hanging at her bodice. The flesh behind it
had been riven free so it seemed only a beating
heart gave it light. Yet he marveled. That light
was enough. Within its fissures he saw her face
pure and unmarred. He heard her voice singing to
him as if from his very side. He saw her hands,
delicate and tipped with little claws reaching
out to him. He saw her tail swaying as she moved
to his side. He saw her eyes bright with joy and
overflowing with love. He saw children filling
her arms. His children. Momma. His wife. Kimberly. Their family. Matthias.
He turned to the presence in whose shadow he was trapped.
No. I am not yours! I am Charles Matthias,
husband to the Lady Kimberly, and father to
Charles, Bernadette, Erick, Baerle, and Ladero!
You are nothing to me! I reject you! I say to you, no! No! No!
A titanic scream that stretched beyond reckoning
and that welled up from depths unimaginable blasted him to the ground.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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