Trysten awoke in a cold sweat, shivering as he sat up quickly in his bed. He looked around and realized it was still dark outside. What woke him? Looking around the room in a bleary stupor, he realized that he was not in his bedroom at the castle. He rubbed his eyes and sighed as the memories of the day began to seep back into his conscious mind.
Had it only been a day since he left?
"It has been four days since you arrived here, and six days since you left the castle," a voice spoke through the night. "you have been in a heavy rest ever since we carried you from the marshes."
"Where am I?"
"You are currently within the Temple of Melora. Welcome to Mire, Trysten," the eerie voice continued. "Very few outsiders have had the privilege of entering our safe haven."
He rubbed his eyes once more and searched for the man that spoke. He found it difficult to discern the direction of the voice, and wasn't able to find the speaker in the darkness.
"You cannot see me, because I am not with you. I am currently speaking through your thoughts. Mind walking, as your people put it," Trysten stood and looked for a way out, unnerved at the way the man accessed his mind so easily. "Do not panic, I mean no harm to you. In fact I believe you will benefit a great deal from being here. But first I must ask; who are you?"
"You know who I am."
"That is not an answer. Who are you?"
"I am Trysten Gallindo."
"No, there is a deeper answer that you must seek. Who
are
you?"
"I am... I..." he trailed off, confused at what the man was getting at. "I don't understand."
"You must search within yourself for the answer," the voice riddled in a positively vexing manner. "Once more. Who are you?"
"I'm a useless urchin who can't even survive on his own!" Trysten snapped, anger bubbling from the irritating question. "I am a weak, hopeless man, with nothing and no one."
"No, my brother," the voice chuckled. "You are a vessel of truth. A shell meant to carry the will of Melora. You must abandon the sentiments of the physical world before you can truly see. You must put aside such petty things as emotions like love and anger before you can truly live. Do you think you can do that?"
"I don't know."
"In time, we will see," the voice echoed in his mind. "The first step in this process is to abandon yourself. Dress yourself in the white robes beside your bed, and nothing else. Then leave through the door on your right. Follow your intuition, and you will find the place that you are meant to be."
"What the hell does that mean?"
The voice did not reply, so he made quick work of dressing himself in the garb. The robe was loose and thin, with no belt or fancy embroidery. It was made of a simple cotton fabric, with a single cotton tie at the side. It hung loosely over his body, hanging down around his ankles, and he looked around for shoes but there were none. He wondered why they had put him in such a simple outfit, but then remembered the man's words as he walked to the door that was not there before. He must abandon himself. He must become a vessel. But what did all of that mean? Could he truly give up everything for this God he did not even know?
He stepped out into the hallway, and sighed. There were four halls he could choose from, and he had no idea which way to go. He closed his eyes and tried to think on what he had been told. He had no way to discern the right direction, he had no idea where he was even supposed to be going, and so he could not rely on common sense or logical deduction. He would have to rely on intuition. But what did that mean, exactly? And where was this place he 'was meant to be' anyway?
He opened his eyes once more and looked between the halls for some kind of clue. He thought about pointing his finger and spinning, so he would go down the path he ended up pointing to, but somehow he didn't think that guesswork and intuition were the same. Similar, yes, but not the same. He closed his eyes again and considered what it meant to follow his intuition, but nothing came to mind, so in an irritated huff he turned around to return to his room only to find the door was replaced by four more halls. He turned around and around, looking at the eight different directions in fear and confusion. What kind of games were they playing with his mind?
Abandon yourself.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Maybe... Maybe if he emptied his mind, it would simply come to him. So he stood there, eyes closed, and focused on turning off his thoughts one by one. It was a meditation technique he had been taught as a child to channel his anger. Little by little he cleared his mind, popping stray thoughts like bubbles until his consciousness was a blank slate of darkness. Suddenly he found himself moving forward. He opened his eyes to the hallway he had chosen, awestruck at how long it was, but he kept walking. It didn't seem to end, and when he turned around he found it stretched out as far and unending behind him as it did in front of him. He took another deep breath to calm himself and kept moving forward, forcing the thoughts out of his mind as he walked. Pondering nothing's at a time like this would be useless. Keeping a blank slate would be his only chance at guiding himself forward like he had before.
Something possessed him to stop, and he turned to his right and touched the wall. There was nothing there, but when he turned to keep walking, he found another hall directly behind him. Without any hesitation, he turned down the new hall and began to walk down it, pushing away his doubts when he found himself in another unending hallway. He kept walking on and on, until another hall appeared on his right. He turned to walk down it, but something was nagging at him to keep moving past it so he did.
As he walked, the hall became darker and darker, until it was so dark he could not see anything, Even himself. He tried to call out, but found that he heard nothing, not even his own voice. He tried again but there was still no sound in the pitch black dark. He reached out all around him but found no walls to support him, and when he dropped to the floor he found there was no ground beneath him.
No, that wasn't right. He wasn't falling. He tried to clasp his hands together, but he couldn't find the coordination, so he reached for his face but felt nothing. He realized with a bit of horror that his tense of touch was completely gone, along with his sight and hearing. He took a breath but felt no relief from it, straining to smell the wet musty stone of the halls, but there was nothing. He screamed in horror, but there was only silence, and he felt as if he was lost in nothing. He couldn't even move, because he couldn't feel if he was or not, and after a while it almost felt as though he was no longer a person anymore. He was just a floating consciousness, drifting through the darkness into nothing.
Not nothing... Everything.
Pictures and colors and memories fluttered past, projected around him as if he were watching them play before his very eyes. Each left as quickly as they came, flickers of his life that clicked on and of and on again. He tried to reign them in with little success. It was hard to turn off the only sensation he had access to, when he had nothing else to focus on. He couldn't count his breathing, he couldn't open his eyes and focus on a point, he couldn't even hum to himself. All he had were the chaotic workings of his mind, and they dragged him along through rapid fluttering and confusing projections of dreams and thoughts and memories. He felt as if he were being swept up in a tide with no boat or paddle, and he fought to keep from losing his composure as he wrestled for control over his mind.
It felt like an eternity had passed before he finally was able to attain control. He fought to clear it all away, just like before, and pushed away every thought and memory until he was swimming in darkness again. He relaxed and let himself drift away in the dark void, waiting with a surreal calm for whatever was meant to happen next. He was surprised and confused when he found himself suddenly standing within a courtroom, surrounded by the nine wings. After further inspection he recognized one of them as a half breed of Kyaga and Daegra. He turned again and found himself face to face with an elder mystic, and found the man staring directly at him. He smiled a devious smile, but did not seem intent to let on to his unintentional spying. After a moment of calm and focus, the voices of the people around him began to surface, and it was difficult to take in after having been forced into silence for god only knew how long. He watched the progression with a morbid curiosity, confused by their angry bickering.
"How long do we wait then?"
