The Sixth Age - The Tower Wars: A Prelude

The soft, slow, hiss of the radiator gave way to the silence of the night. A silence that deafened all in its sphere as the encroaching blackness sliced through the shadows of the room.

The boy sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes with two tiny hands. Two tiny hands that still tried to clutch a blanket of brown, as eyes of blue looked about the room.

The blanket slipped to the floor as the boy rolled out of bed. His eyes widening as he hit the floor, his breathe quickening as the darkness sliced into him, the fear forcing him to open his mouth as eyes of blue searched for his blanket.

But, of course there was only blackness…and silence…a silence that flowed and ebbed about him. A silence that at times felt as if it moved above and through him, at times bringing warmth and at times coldness.

He looked about his room, his body pivoting as he turned his head...his head turning and his body following, the boy sought out the shadows, but found none…nothing that answered the call of what forced him from sleep, a sleep that was induced by the drugs his mum handed him every night. Drugs that dispelled the shadows that crawled into his room…

…And from this silence, a whisper was born. A whisper that caressed the ears of the boy with a silkiness that made his flesh crawl and a whimper to emerge from his mouth. He shuffled his feet as he felt the whisper take shape…he felt the air travel to the center of the blackness as the whisper, a word, grew in shape, the darkness billowing to the ceiling above. The eyes of blue had time to widen slightly as the whisper, a word, slammed into the boy, tossing him like a broken rag doll. With a thud, the body hit the floor…

The whisper enveloped the boy, placing him into a sleep. A sleep that caused the boy with eyes of blue to shake about. A sleep that was deprived of his blanket. A blanket of brown that was only two feet away.

The whisper, a word, long hung in the room as the approach of the morning brought a mother, a mother laden with breakfast, to cast her eyes to her fallen son. The scream, her scream, erupted into the air…

Words flowed from the mother as she canted the nine virtues over her boy…the words escaping from her in a quick rush…giri, heiwa…gaku…but she felt these words to be tainted. She felt the bile forcing its way to her lips. She felt the corruption of the virtues…

She sat upon the floor with a suddenness that brought forth a sigh that mixed with the breeze streaming from a half open window…a wind that brought ashes to settle across her body…ashes that danced with the whisper, a word…Ga-shadin…

The redness of the morning sky caused the weary sailors to shift about. They knew the time drew nigh from them to leave the land. The land, their terra firma, had filled their souls with peace as they walked about the wooded glades. But it was time...time to gather and move on…so with eyes filled with sadness they watched the land grow smaller as they sailed onward.

The war raged long and hard. Sweeping and burning the land. Scaring all in its wake. Would the land recover…would it grow again…the sailors did not know. Some looked to their cargo holds, looking to ensure the many potted shrubs, trees, and plants were secure in their berthing. It was all they could do to protect their survival…aye the war raged long and hard.

But all did not leave, some stayed to ensure history was recorded. Some stayed because it was all they knew…and to a chosen few, the tenets of watchers and warders did not leave them. To these few, they gathered their weapons and armor and strode from their forests.

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