Knowing Death

Beta: None

04: fragility

I have existed for millions of years.

Before the beginning, I knew the end and all that came between.

The joys and sorrows, the anger and laughter, the innocent and the bloody. It was all before me in an unending tidal wave of dizzying proportion. For a beast made to endure, I was unable. Year ticked onward while I sat in my ever-expanding prison, watching atrocities build before me. A mind as vast and endless as a windswept tundra with nothing to buffer the whirlwind eventually found itself awash in death and guilt.

How could I never break my silence? How could I never intervene? How was I able to sit there, in the silence and cold, and never raise a finger?

Somehow I did.

In all that time, in all those Ages, I never broke from duty. In doing that, though, I allowed my fate to sneak up on me.

It is hard.

Very hard.

An immortal mind, a mind of something akin to a god, shattered. Snow bathed in blood. Some days, I know myself and I know my duty.

Most days, I know only darkness.

When I wake from that darkness, I question if that is what my brother felt. If Melkor screamed as I did. Did he fear the things that whispered there or did he embrace them? Is that what made us different? He embraced the darkness, the madness, and made himself one with it.

I run from it.

Hide.

But I can never truly hide from my own mind. My own demons. My own guilt.

My own darkness that threatens to devour all I am and leave nothing behind to mark where Námo once reigned over the dead.

Millions of years and there is only one lesson I remember.

Every mind is fragile.

Even mine.


	Navigation multi-part stories previous		Knowing Death Beta: None 04: fragility I have existed for millions of years. Before the beginning, I knew the end and all that came between. The joys and sorrows, the anger and laughter, the innocent and the bloody. It was all before me in an unending tidal wave of dizzying proportion. For a beast made to endure, I was unable. Year ticked onward while I sat in my ever-expanding prison, watching atrocities build before me. A mind as vast and endless as a windswept tundra with nothing to buffer the whirlwind eventually found itself awash in death and guilt. How could I never break my silence? How could I never intervene? How was I able to sit there, in the silence and cold, and never raise a finger? Somehow I did. In all that time, in all those Ages, I never broke from duty. In doing that, though, I allowed my fate to sneak up on me. It is hard. Very hard. An immortal mind, a mind of something akin to a god, shattered. Snow bathed in blood. Some days, I know myself and I know my duty. Most days, I know only darkness. When I wake from that darkness, I question if that is what my brother felt. If Melkor screamed as I did. Did he fear the things that whispered there or did he embrace them? Is that what made us different? He embraced the darkness, the madness, and made himself one with it. I run from it. Hide. But I can never truly hide from my own mind. My own demons. My own guilt. My own darkness that threatens to devour all I am and leave nothing behind to mark where Námo once reigned over the dead. Millions of years and there is only one lesson I remember. Every mind is fragile. Even mine.