The Dawn of a New Age: Act 2/Chapter 1

Act 2: The Spreading Darkness
Chapter 1: A Mother's Lament
As written by RememberMe (Joseph Michael Schultz)

I have to say, though the thought of sleep sounded inviting at first, extremely inviting, I seriously doubted that I'd be able to fall asleep at all; I simply had too much on my mind. Way, way too much in fact. Well, apparently I'd made a slight miscalculation and underestimated exactly how tired I actually was, because barely an hour passed on the train before I caught the 5:45 flight to scenic dreamland. I steadily closed my eyes and reopened them almost three times as fast as they'd shut, finding myself surrounded by an endless shadowy darkness. From train to black hole, huh? Well, not that this was an uncommon dreamscape to me, or transition for that matter; but really, after experiencing Armageddon first hand, didn't I deserve something a little bit more pleasantly stimulating? But perhaps I jumped the gun there, because I soon learned that I wasn't alone in this black wasteland. Standing ominously in the center of the dismal void were three darkened forms, too difficult to properly see but clearly not humanoid; and they were all crowded around something that I could only vaguely see as well.

“Should we choose to give rise to this chain reaction, we must be cautious and resist the temptation to abuse our power.” boomed the echoing voice of an enormous lavender dragon; one of the three ominous beings that loomed heavily in the distance. “It is far too easy; giving into desire. Too many times before have we done as such; too many times before have we chained down our creations.”

“Tis true, Palkia, tis very true.” agreed the soft voice of a small faerie; her tone judgmental but compassionate as well. “Creating something, anything, is not a difficult task in and of itself. With enough determination and the proper amount of effort applied, even an apprentice can produce a product rivaling the quality a master's work. But allowing your creation to flourish and thrive independently, autonomously existing without any slight need of intervention on your behalf; that is a craftsman's greatest dream. Creating life itself.”

Palkia?! I've heard that name before. It's an important name; a really, really important name. But of who and from where? And what the Hell are these guys talking about; creating life itself? What is that supposed to mean; do I need a cipher and a code key to go with it or do I just need to be overly philosophical?

“Perhaps you are right, Mother, and perhaps you are wrong.” spoke the third creature; a massive teal and cyan dragon. “But is it even possible; birthing a creation capable of living its own life, guided not by the hand of another but by its own hand instead? Think of how oft our sentient children have relinquished their independence and relied completely upon their creators' protective guidance. Do they not always end up a defenseless flock of lambs in need of a shepherd? If we were to ignore their plight, their endless bleating, surely the wolves would enjoy a gluttonous feast.”

The heliotrope dragon, Palkia presumably, glowered begrudgingly and said, “Twas fear of the unknown that brought about such events, Dialga, you know this to be true. We made the mistake of letting our presence be known, thus allowing our children the knowledge of an omnipotent force with which they could place all faith in. Rather than face the uncertainties of their future alone, they hid behind our shadows and begged prayers of salvation. If anything, we are to blame. Simply learning of our existence doomed them; robbing them of their chance at forging their own world and leading their own lives.”

Dialga?! Again with the memorable names? I know I've heard that one too, but when and from where? It should be so obvious too, I just know it!

“Indeed.” added the tiny faerie. “Living the brief and fragile life of a mortal is a horrifying prospect; so many things constantly threatening to end the life that you have worked and struggled so hard to live. And yet there is still no escaping the inevitable truth; that death patiently awaits your destined arrival. Would you, Dialga, not find some false comfort in the idea of an omnipotent force that always and forever watches over you; would you not become dependent on that same comfort and eventually rely upon it completely? Would you not begin to worship it and devote your entire life to it, thus gradually abandoning your right to freedom?”

“Perhaps you would not and perhaps a number of other mortals would not either; perhaps they would have the strength of will needed to defy a deity's rule and find their own future.” sighed Palkia sadly. “But not all existent beings can be as strong as you; not all can stand in the presence of something beyond their understanding, then continue to live their lives as though they had witnessed nothing. Mortals fear that which they do not understand and oft worship that which they fear.”

Tense silence reigned over all as the other dragon quietly contemplated this difficult question.

“And after all, does not cowardice hide in every heart?” continued the faerie; pressing harder and harder. “Just as all beings are capable of courage, so too are all oft paralyzed by fear.”

Hell, I couldn't help but to nod my head in agreement. No one is completely fearless. Not one living person can brag that they have never been afraid. In fact, men tend to idolize, revere, and kneel shamelessly before fearsome things; turning themselves into slaves rather than risking their lives fighting for what is rightfully theirs.

Truly, a sad world.

“So, then we are to give birth to yet another world, yes?” relented Dialga; shining green eyes locked unwaveringly upon the other two. His tone carried with it an irritated sigh. “Should we deny our children all knowledge of our existence, it will only serve to protect them from their own weaknesses. They may well learn to become strong and stand upright upon their own feet, but strength and faith in oneself alone cannot prevent the unpreventable. If they should be faced with a disaster too large and encompassing for mortal hands to halt, they will have nowhere and no one to turn to; they will be forced to face hopeless destruction. They will be forced to die alone.” A fair amount of indignant anger filled the words that followed, “That seems much worse a fate. Or am I wrong and dying a death of lonesome despair somehow rivals living a long life of adamant worship?”

“You ARE wrong!” thundered the faerie's voice; soft maternal kindness replaced by a cold razor's edge. The dragon appeared to wince, if only for a moment, at the small pixie's words. “Would you, if given the choice, prefer to live in subservience; forever forced to praise the name and deeds of your master? Or would you prefer a life of freedom, a life not controlled and commanded by a deity and his gleaming golden throne? What point is there in protecting and preserving the life of a man who wishes, with all of his heart, to die? Be it for the sake of cruelty, the desire to watch him suffer further, because that is all that I can fathom? What you seek, my wicked son, is a world inhabited by pious slaves; a land filled with simpering, mindless zealots willing to obey your every command!”

Even I winced in fear of the sudden outburst. However small the tiny woman was, it did nothing to lessen the destructive impact that her words seemed to have upon my eardrums. It was as though her voice carried with it a hidden strength, something that was not to be trifled with. And trust me when I tell you that I know what to and what to not trifle with.

Also flinching at his mother's harsh words, the green dragon protested, “No, Mother, I merely-

But promptly fell silent as the nymph interrupted and relentlessly continued, “I will not hear it! I have seen, far too many times, worlds of idle worshipers created! They build gaudy temples and statues in our name, assault our ears with prayers touting our perfection, and pass down written word of our pristine magnificence to future generations! I know not of your opinion of yourself, my son, but I am not so deluded and blind; I know that I am far from perfect!” The faerie lowered her voice, though her tone kept its steely chill, “As old as I am, I know all too well that the pursuit of perfection is a fool's errand. My eyes have seen much and my heart has seen more; an odd thing called 'empathy' having distorted my vision more than once. Tell me, Dialga, have you ever even bothered to consider the difficulties and obstacles that plague the lives of those that you create; the mortals that you toy with and manipulate?”

The viridian basilisk eyed the pixie warily. His eyes depicted a conflicting battle within his head. He was debating whether he wanted to tell the truth or to simply tell his mother what she wanted to hear.

“Of course not.” replied the azure and jade dragon; his answer steeping with vanity and pride. He'd made the wrong choice and answered truthfully. “Would it not be beneath me to compare myself to a mere mortal man?”

I almost laughed out loud, but chose to stay strong and restrain myself. It was like watching a mother scold her son for burning ants with a magnifying glass, only to learn that the child couldn't quite grasp what exactly was wrong with the act. Like I said, I almost laughed, but things were clearly rolling down a slippery slope and I wasn't certain how much longer things would remain laughable.

“I see.” said the tiny creature to her massive son; the words were solemn and rife with defeated depression. Clearly, she now knew that her warnings and pleas were falling upon deaf ears. Well, not deaf, but perhaps indifferent and uncaring instead.

Inquisitively, Palkia quietly questioned, “Mother?”

The diminutive woman simply answered, “Must it come to this? Is there truly no other way?”

The minuscule faerie flew to her selfish, spoiled son's side and looked up at him. Though too small to properly see from my vantage point, I could still imagine her languishing expression. Heartbreak must have completely filled her eyes, welling them with a transparent sea of tiny tears. She'd spoken compassionately from the heart, words that carried with them a powerful love and a respect for all things that lived and breathed; the words of a saint. What she received in return were the stained and tainted words of a corrupt king, words that carried with them newfound knowledge of her precious son; knowledge of his great arrogance and selfish pride. She'd learned of his heart, black and shrunken, and it crushed her maternal spirit like a colossal lead weight.

“Then we must part ways, my son, until you learn to empathize with those that you so ruthlessly rule and command.” muttered the faerie mournfully as she waved a small hand through the air.

A low-pitched humming sound began thrumming and pulsing through the air; the sound of power and energy building to a boiling point. I'd felt this very same sensation, hours ago, though on a much smaller scale. The pressure in my lungs caused by the sheer force of Ed's attack, frightening as it was, couldn't hold a candle to this migraine inducing, bone chilling, throat tightening sensation.

A flash of bright light ignited the blank, black space around the massive wyvern, Dialga, and illuminated the surrounding void. For a brief second, the shadowy wasteland became a endless field of pure white, not unlike every seen depiction of purgatory. As the blinding spark faded and darkness returned, I took notice of Dialga's gargantuan body and how it seemingly grew smaller over time. That's when I realized that the giant creature wasn't becoming smaller; he was slowly becoming transparent and vanishing, starting with his lumbering limbs. The panicked creature began to thrash and flail in horror, but did little to slow the process; his midsection and chest steadily fading away into nothingness. And as though he could plead to prevent the outcome, he turned to face his mother and let out a sharp cry. However, she gave him no pity and turned away, refusing to look at her son as the strange banishing spell came to a finish.

In mere seconds, the massive green dragon had completely disappeared.

In mere seconds, my jaw hit the floor.

“I will not spawn another world, only to watch its inhabitants kneel before me and praise my name; not when I am unworthy and undeserving.” she weeped as she fell to her knees; shielding her face from her remaining son. “And nor shall you, my son; ever again.”

And then I blinked; a simple closing and opening of my eyes. In that mere microsecond, I was ejected from my dream like a ballistic missile and back into reality. The endless void of eternal darkness vanished into a blinding field of white light and was replaced by an overly complicated button, switch, and lever covered control panel. The strange creatures I'd seen disappeared and in their place I saw through the window of reinforced glass an all encompassing horizon of deep blue sea. The train jostled and shook every few seconds, a strangely lulling background of white noise that threatened to send me speeding back into dreamland again. But I promptly slapped myself in the face and forced myself to focus. I looked to the interactive GPS map displayed on one of the panel's many monitors and found that we'd already made it halfway across the ocean, though we still had several more hours of bridge-crossing to go. It was about time I spent some quality time with the coffee maker and vending machines back in the caboose. If Goldenrod proved to be just as chaotic as Saffron, then I'd need some food in my stomach before rushing into another battle for survival.

Coffee; it really needs its own tier in the food pyramid.