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[center] [color=f7941d]D E A T H  :   P A R T  1[/color][/center]

[center][color=ffdead]He was being unmade.[/color][/center] 

[color=ffdead]Like so much had pulled apart before him, he now was doomed to fray. The darkness surrounding him was oppressive, pushing down on his mind like a thick blanket used to snuff a fire. He tried to reach out, grasp a thread of the magic that was destroying him, but it pushed him away. It swept the great Unraveller aside like a strong wind blows a leaf. 
 This was too intricate. Even with the seed, it would takes weeks to unmake it, and he would lose himself far before that. 

Daen crawled toward the dais, for upon it sat salvation. An aura of imperceivable colors swirled atop the dais. Simply looking upon it caused his mind to ache. No mortal could perceive what he saw there. 
Unfortunately he was mortal.
And he was dying. 
Blood trickled down his back, where poisoned barbs had implanted themselves. The poison didn't seem to be effecting him, but the pain made him weary. Cuts laced his arms and legs where dastardly razorwire traps had tried to slice him to bits. He bled freely onto the black stone floor, which seemed to eagerly consume the nectar of his life. 
He crawled closer, struggling fiercely to keep grasp of what little sanity remained to him. He reached out toward the dais. 
And brushed whatever sat atop it.
Fire blasted its way through his being. He was suddenly paper before a great fire, curling and collapsing in on himself. He felt the last fragments of his sanity being pulled apart. The colors he could not see fluttered inside his eyes, swimming in ever increasing tides until they blocked out all else. 
Daen could not decide if he preferred this unknowable sea to the darkness that had oppressed him before.

But perhaps those were the words of a madman.

If he'd had the faculties left to laugh, he would have done so. Suddenly a blinding pain lanced its way through every fiber of his being. The burning of before multiplied by a thousand. It was as if his soul were being branded. Miraculously he could then tell that that was exactly what was happening. The mark on his soul was being mimicked on his face. Drawing itself around the seed of truth that rested in the socket of his right eye. 

Pieces smashed back into place. Mind rebuilt. Numbers. That color, perceivable suddenly, yet unnamed. What was that?
Something flitted around the corners of the black room. And suddenly Daen realized that he could [b]see[/b] the corners of the room. He could feel the darkness still, but it clawed at the edges of his sanity, unable to grasp his now unvexable mind. 

That moment of hesitation was enough for the creature that struck him next. A flash of black skin, swirling patterns beneath its surface. It took hold of his head with an iron grip and suddenly he was tired once more. Despair tried to edge it's way into his mind, panic following close in its tracks. But they were both rebuffed easily. Daen starred into the eyes of his killer, if that was what one could call them. Pits of utter blackness. He could feel it's core. Once a man, corrupted absolutely by an imperceivable darkness that at once reminded him of the wraith of Imentis.[/color]

[color=ffdead]Daen laughed.[/color]
   [color=f9ad81]"I do not fear you."[/color]
[color=ffdead]For you cannot fear that which you understand. 
A rage passed over the beast. Claws like needles tore into the flesh of his belly, extracting something he didn't see but he guessed was his intestines. He felt nothing but tiredness. In the corner of his darkening vision he saw streams of white light filtering into the beast, and suddenly he knew what the poison barbs had been for.

They drained his life away, strengthening this beast. The poison tried to tear at his mind, take back that which he had stolen, but it could not enter. The mark had done its work. The beast leaned close and licked blood from Daen's cheek with a long serpent-like tongue. [/color]
   [color=2F4F4F]"Feeeeaarrr meeeee,"[/color][color=ffdead] It whispered in his ear with a voice like ice.

Daen locked eyes with the beast once more, resolute and unfeeling in death.[/color]
   [color=f9ad81]"I cannot,"[/color][color=ffdead] were the last words he spoke before all went black.[/color]
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[color=f7941d]D E A T H  :   P A R T  2[/color][/center]


[color=ffdead]Death was dark. At least until he looked, if in fact one could look while dead, for he was very aware that he was dead. The mark had followed him here, at least in part. He could feel it's power still coursing through him, lingering like the image one sees after looking at a bright light. It's power allowed him the knowledge of this place. Though it would take him time immemorial to understand it. He wondered how ones without the mark existed here. 

Around him swam the color he could not name. It ebbed and flowed through the aether like great tides of energy, shaping eveything. He then felt a presence, if in fact one could feel while dead. A presence that warmed him, for it was familiar. And then, not for the first time in his life, but the first time in death, he laid eyes upon is god, Saevus. 

He tried to fall low, but had no body to lay prostrate. He tried to beg forgiveness, but had no lips to speak. The god seemed to sense his regret, his sense of failure, for the god of truth [i]frowned[/i]. It was only then that Daen realized how very [i]human[/i] the god of truth looked. He had a very human body, and atop that sat a very human head with very high human cheekbones and black human hair. The only sign of divinity he saw were the blindingly white iridescent eyes. Around Saevus' right eye were three faintly glowing interconnected circles.[/color]
   [i][color=FFFFF0]In your failure you have succeeded.”[/color][/i] [color=ffdead]Saevus extended an arm toward whatever Daen was here and Daen felt a pulse of energy that could only have come from the mark. He felt it burning within him, lingering on the fringes of his perception like an afterimage of bright light. [/color]
   [i][color=FFFFF0]”I sense the mark upon you. That they cannot take, for it is bound.”[/color][/i]
[color=ffdead]Saevus paced across the eternity, and white stones formed beneath him. The reality spread outward, splashing against invisible walls, and spilling reality into the aether like paint upon a canvas.[/color]
   [i][color=FFFFF0]”Do not despair, my dearest disciple . For where there is one, there is also the other.”[/color][/i] [color=ffdead]Saevus Smiled at him, showing very white teeth.  The smile dropped quickly, and was replaced by a serious expression. [/color][i][color=FFFFF0]”Find my book, Truthseeker. For upon my departure it shall come unbound. “[/color][/i] [color=ffdead]He met whatever eyes Daen possessed, and held the look[/color] [i][color=FFFFF0]”Do not search for the truth of time, nor the truth of the starless night, for you shall find neither. Search for the truth of I, who does not belong in this realm. I cannot impart the knowledge I had wished upon you, for in your disembodiment you are not unvexable.”[/color][/i] [color=ffdead]Saevus reached out to touch Daen, but recoiled as if struck. Color began to drain from the god’s skin. His iridescent eyes dimmed, and for a moment Daen could see the darkening stones of the wall [i]through[/i] the God of Truth.[/color]
     [i][color=FFFFF0]”The Starless Night beckons.”[/color][/i] [color=ffdead]Saevus fell to a knee and clutched his chest.[/color]
     [i][color=FFFFF0]”One last gift, my dearest disciple.  The page formed of your truth.”[/color][/i]
[color=ffdead]An unfelt wind tugged at the God of Truth, and he began to blow away.[/color]
     [i][color=FFFFF0]”We part, my dear disciple.”[/color][/i] 
[color=ffdead]The unseen wind blasted Saevus apart, scattering the fragments of him around and through Daen.  Then suddenly it was silent.[/color]
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[color=f7941d]R E T U R N[/color][/center]
[color=ffdead]Daen looked slowly around the black stone room. Dust layered every crevice and cobwebs hung from every corner. He blinked. 
Wait. 
He’d [i][b]blinked?[/b][/i]
Daen Screamed. He screamed so long and hard his voice went out. He thrashed and flung himself about, clawing at his skin and attempting to escape from the prison of flesh he found himself in.  Dust billowed up around him, blotting out vision and forcing him into a fit of coughing, which luckily enough stopped his screaming. 
 After the fit, he flopped sideways onto the dusty bricks. Since when had existence been so exhausting? The panic slowly receded as he stared at the far wall, as black as all the rest, and in its place came a bone deep exhaustion. 
He woke what seemed like days later, he couldn’t know for sure in this lightless room. He didn’t feel as tired now as he had before. He took another look around. It wasn’t [b]dark[/b] per-say. There was light coming from somewhere, although dim and of a very dark shade, but he couldn’t make out the source.  He reached out with his mind, seeking to grasp the magic that created the light and understand how it functioned. He found it easily, a charm, easily done. He tugged on the thread of it’s magic and felt a nip of resistance. It gave him pause. He’d not felt resistance at such paltry magic since before he’d been given the-.

Daen’s hands flew up to his face, he felt gingerly around the lid of his right eye. The socket was empty, the seed gone.  A ball of icy dread dropped into his stomach. He grasped for his pendant, but it was gone as well. They had taken everything. 

Except, as Saevus had said, the mark.  Daen traced the lines etched into the skin around his now empty right eye socket.  Three interconnected circles. It glowed a dim orange against the skin of his hand. 

Daen sighed and looked around the room once more. No doors and no windows. The room was entirely sealed. He could feel no magic keeping him here. But without his pendant there was no escape that he could see.  Then something popped into his mind. Riddles he’d never before seen. He smiled at the last gift of Saevus.

[center]Page 25 of The Book of Truth: 

My dearest Disciple:
By black will you fall.
By white will you rise. 
Four times of four, you shall be your own guide. 

Upon your return, I shall grant you this
In order to strike, at first must you miss. 

And perhaps one more, for loyalty's sake.
To reclaim what you've found, you first must unmake.[/center]

The first part made sense now that he had died and appearently been resurrected. He hung on that for a moment. He had witnessed Saevus’ destruction, and therefore had no clue as to why he was back. Yet here he sat, propped up against a black stone wall, very much alive. 

The last part was obvious as well. In order to reclaim the Seed of Truth and perhaps his pendant, he would have to unmake, or unravel. That seemed too obvious and had him wondering at the riddles possibly behind it. But that wasn’t the most important part. 

In order to strike, at first you must miss. He hadn’t the slightest what this meant. He hoped it was a way out of this room, but he couldn’t be sure. 

Standing on unsteady legs. Daen pushed off into the middle of the room. 

The starless night had begun. his God was dead. There was so much to do, and he felt so very, very alone.  
  [/color]