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  • Subject: Halo Fanfic: The End of a War (Forerunner Chronicles: Part One: Pag...
Subject: Halo Fanfic: The End of a War (Forerunner Chronicles: Part One: Pag...
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lol ya i guess it just seems after 24 chapters it gets harder and harder to pull something out of your ass and call it a chapter lol jk ive liked all the chapters the covie history was pretty good for me not to many ppl like d and skipped it i liked it because it really helped the reader realize that the prophets really know whats going and helped the plot thicken and advance. The forerunner living was a good touche but i already knew he would add that in because i know i would have ended up doing it myself lol. well hopefully he will post the next damn chapter tonight or tomorrow

  • 07.19.2006 10:50 AM PDT
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Aiden, AC/DC, Avenged Sevenfold, Atreyu, Bullet For My Valentine, Trivuim, Evanescence, Slipknot, My Chemical Romance, Foo Fighters, H.I.M, Kilswitch Engage and metallica i am like major fan of all those bands i have all thier cds and their newer ones especially AC/DC, killswitch engage and slipknot

  • 07.19.2006 10:54 AM PDT
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those bands are all sweet

  • 07.19.2006 10:55 AM PDT
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Great fanfic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  • 07.19.2006 11:25 AM PDT
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Peanut, your grammer and spelling abilites offend my eyes. And yes, I AM YOUR ENGLISH TEACHER.

  • 07.19.2006 12:15 PM PDT
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Posted by: Reaver112
Peanut, your grammer and spelling abilites offend my eyes. And yes, I AM YOUR ENGLISH TEACHER.

LOL

  • 07.19.2006 1:06 PM PDT
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lmao shut up

  • 07.19.2006 1:30 PM PDT

TWP - Assistant Director
Blade Runner: #00124A
- - - - - - -
My Novel, available on Amazon.com

Homepage

Posted by: Mr_Clark
The Master Chief is a loser.


Either it be from frustration, or a joke, I would seem to agree with you Mr_Clark. The Master Chief, while the hero of the Haloverse, is a very one dimensional character and incredibly hard to write about. Nylund and Ditz found this equally torturous, and had to give deeper emotions to the side characters. Cortana, though an AI, is by far the more interesting of the two. Her emotions (if you can call it that) give her a sense of depth that the Master Chief lacks. He is a soldier, in the truest form.

Yet everyone still hopes that he will save the day. So don't let anything anyone says change the path you have taken. The Chief you've created, is changing into something that would create a very good lead character. His "split" personality makes him interesting and ... well... nuts. And that, my friends, makes for entertainment.

Can't wait to get more of your amazing storytelling talents.

~soulguard

PS: Please, refrain from double-triple-posting, and try to stay on topic. The forum mods are watching and we'd hate for Clarks thread to be locked.
And also, Mr_C, the links were greatly appreciated. Imagine my shock when I went to read your latest chap and saw them on FF.net. Thank you. I don't know what more to say.

[Edited on 7/19/2006]

  • 07.19.2006 1:32 PM PDT

"I hope nothing, I fear nothing, I am free"
"A person needs a little madness, or else they never dare cut the rope and be free." - Nikos Kazantzakis
"The ink of the scholar is more holy than the blood of martyrs" - Hasan al-Basri
Black Chapter, for all religious and political debate that doesn't fit in the Flood.

Hear, Hear!

I take it our Mr.C. is still having network problems? but it's the 20th over here =(

konoka, whip him into putting the story on disc and uploading it at yours.. pretty please =]

- Primum

  • 07.20.2006 4:51 AM PDT
Subject: Halo Fanfic: The End of a War
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hay any1 wonner join a clan??

  • 07.20.2006 5:29 AM PDT
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Aim: Avfootballfreek6

I require my clan memebers to know how to spell...Sorry....Can't wait to get the chapter...Great story Clark

[Edited on 7/20/2006]

  • 07.20.2006 5:50 AM PDT
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lol thats funny but true. anyone heard anything from clark on his next chapter or is his computer still "broke"

  • 07.21.2006 6:54 PM PDT
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My computer was not "broke", my cable service providor decided to cut off access in my household for a reason I still have not figured out.

But that does not mean I do not have proof. Click this link and you'll be taken to a picture of my modem in a state of duress. I'm not sure if anyone has the same style, but basically you need to see 4 green lights to know if the things working right. Anything but 4 lights means its being retarded. I was getting 2 lights, and a blinking third for about a cajillion hours straight.

That problem went away yesterday, which was nice. I finally get to post finished the chapter, though I'm too hot/exhausted to bother with editing. Besides, its probably good enough anyways.

Only one more Forerunner chapter remaining. Rejoice haters!

  • 07.21.2006 9:04 PM PDT
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The chapter is now up on Fanfiction.net. Follow the link to read it there.


The End of a War

Forerunner Chronicles Part Two

The Redemption


Awakening as if from a deep sleep, Fasul’s eyes seemed to burn against the haggard light that shone down upon his body. His mind was hazy and unclear, creating a disorienting façade about his movements. The muscles in his arms refused to cooperate with him, content with lying limply against his side. With a swollen tongue, Fasul’s words were slurred and unclear even to him. A mouth parched beyond comprehension screamed out loudest amongst the many pains and concerns alighting his body and mind.

There must have been a kind soul near him that understood his most immediate need, for a small cup was produced, and a warm liquid found its way into Fasul’s mouth. Even his head refused to move, and so the majority of the offering spluttered over his lips and down his face. Had he been more aware of himself, Fasul would have been deeply embarrassed over such a slovenly display. Etiquette concerns were galaxies away at the moment however, and he greedily drank down the sweetly warm liquid. Once satisfied, he attempted to communicate once more to his unseen assistant, but a wave of exhaustion appeared to grip him, and consciousness left him immediately.

What felt like an instant later, he awoke once more, though his mind told him the time that passed was greater than it felt for the lighting in the room was now significantly darker. Comprehension came to him much quicker this time, and as he attempted to lift himself from his prone position, his ears detected voices nearby.

“The disorientation will clear shortly, Fasul,” someone close by said.

Fasul struggled to lift his head to see who was speaking, but his body was incredibly weak. His limbs were immobile; even his fingers remained motionless despite his earnest efforts. A grunt of exertion left him and he collapsed back into the bed, feeling as if he had competed in a daylong race. Haggard was his breath, and Fasul was aware enough to be confounded over how exhausted he was from simply trying to lift himself into a sitting position. So tired was he, that when something was placed over his nose and mouth, sealing his ability to breath, the resistance he put forth was pathetic despite the desperation and panic that set itself within his mind.

“Calm yourself,” that same nearby individual ordered. “This will assist you with your breathing.”

There was no alternative for Fasul so he attempted to rest his mind, and an instant afterwards, what felt like a fine mist was shot into his mouth and nose. Taking a deep breath out of panic, the mist was taken into his body. Expecting himself to break into a coughing fit at any moment, Fasul stilled his breath.

“You may breathe now Fasul, your body should feel somewhat rejuvenated, though I warn you that there will still be some disorientation.”

Whatever had been placed against his face was now removed, and Fasul brought his arms up to his face by reflex. He was astonished then, his limbs now moved effortlessly whereas a moment ago they felt heavier than a Supernovae. Further testing proved that his legs were capable of movement as well. They were stiff, but he could certainly move them and that was a vast improvement.

With concerns over his physical body subsided, Fasul decided to address his next concern.

“Where am I?”

There was a momentary pause, and had Fasul been more coherent he may have understood the meaning behind the silence. The same disembodied voice was the one that finally answered his query.

“Sa’yene Medicinal Center.”

I am in Denthil? That is over three hundred light years from Lithia…

“Why am I here?” Fasul asked next. The fog that filled his mind was beginning to lift, and he was regaining cognizance. Curiosity now itched at his being.

Once more silence greeted his inquiry for a short time. When the doctor replied, it was not in direct response to his question.

“Tell me, Fasul, what is it that you last remember? Before you awoke within this room?”

Fasul strained his mind. The question seemed rudimentary, yet his memory seemed fragmented. Bits and pieces of scenery, emotions, and pain seemed to reflect before his minds eye, and yet he could not piece them together. Torrents of fear lashed out at him, and the confusion he felt soon dissolved into fear. His body must not have been the only thing harmed, something had happened to his mind as well.

Perhaps the doctor saw the frantic look on Fasul’s face, for he adopted a far gentler tone.

“It is alright, you have emerged from a deep sleep after all. Your mind will not be as coherent as you might recall it being,” the elder Majal soothed. He disappeared from Fasul’s view as he ran a critical eye over the many pieces of equipment that were monitoring his vital signs.

Confronted with a thousand questions in his mind, Fasul inquired on what he felt most important.

“How long have I been here?”

The answer, this time, was far more decisively delivered than the previous response.

“Three years, seventeen months, and twenty-five days, counting today.”

The answer came not from the elderly Majal that was in his line of view. It originated off to the side and Fasul twisted his head about, and saw that Enorym was standing only a few feet from his bedside. The young Majal met Fasul’s surprised look and smiled almost sadly, while Fasul sputtered momentarily as he searched for words.

“Enorym…why are you here?”

“I come almost every day,” his young friend replied easily, pulling a small chair close and sitting upon it. He watched Fasul intently, as if gauging what affect his words were having upon him.

Fasul was no fool, he had heard and registered Enorym’s early proclamation, but he had refused to believe it. To have spent nearly four years in this hospital was an absurd notion, since he could not recall ever waking inside of it at any previous moment. Stretching his mind, Fasul attempted to remember what happened before he awoke in this room, but it was to no avail; his memories appeared in shades and distorted images. Faces and places that seemed to strike a varying degree of emotion from his soul. Sadness, longing, apprehension, depression…and fear. The last image that stayed with him was one of terror, trapped within the tight shell of the Ashion.

“The Ashion…” Fasul trailed off. He saw the pained expression that crossed over Enorym’s face at the mention of the device, and suddenly everything was clear.

“Something went wrong when I was inside. Everything that Geul explained to me beforehand, none of it ever happened.”

Enorym was troubled by something, or so it appeared to Fasul, who was watching his friend’s face earnestly. The younger Majal was having trouble forcing his eyes to meet Fasul’s. Finally with what seemed to be a determined effort, Enorym cast his gaze level with the incapacitated Fasul.

“It was sabotage, the extremist wing of our faction somehow gained access to the Palintheum during the night beforehand. They disrupted several of the root protocols, and inserted an artificial memory stream into the core. As soon as it was activated, and a host entered, their efforts were rewarded. Using the host as a bypass, the saboteurs created a false account, which contained thousands of images portraying Majal in the throes of the D’orl virus. Recordings of screams and video recordings of children as they died during the final stages of the virus’ work inside their bodies.”

Enorym swallowed and took his eyes off Fasul, directing his attention to the ground.

I feel sick. To think that the dissidents would go so far just to prove their point, how far has our race fallen?

A thought occurred to Fasul, it hadn’t been widespread that the Ashion was going to be put to use, so how did the saboteurs know that the ancient device would be employed?

As if reading his mind, Enorym spoke: “Geul betrayed you. He never intended to use you for their cause; you were to be the catalyst for the beginning of a revolution.”

The sickness brewing within his abdomen grew stronger, and Fasul groaned audibly as his mind became numbed.

“I’m sorry, Fasul,” Enorym pleaded, “By the time I realized what was happening it was too late, the procedure had begun, and the Palintheum was thrown into chaos. Several Majal descended on the Ashion and attempted to remove you, but nothing short of a cataclysm could possibly rend the device open before it finishes it’s course.”

Enorym’s words registered but carried no weight, for Fasul was feeling impossibly sick. His vision was blurred and every incremental movement caused him to become severely nauseous. The doctor, who was still inside the room, approached him and placed his hands on the sides of Fasul’s face, and gazed intently into his eyes; studiously observing the glazed cover that encompassed them.

“I believe that is enough reminiscing for today,” the doctor announced. “He will need to rest now.”


[Edited on 7/21/2006]

  • 07.21.2006 9:25 PM PDT
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Enorym seemed remiss, but acceded to the doctor’s words, and with a brief parting gesture he left along with the doctor, leaving Fasul inside his medicinal chamber. He spent several minutes struggling with the overwhelming sense of distress brewing within him before the many different medical observatory machines he was connected with began to stir, pumping medicinal fluids into his body. In a few moments his anguish faded, and the hazy feeling returned to his body with force. Before he fell into unconsciousness, a brief thought flittered clearly across his mind.

Should this be nothing more than a fitful dream, I will be glad. If it is true, and all other moments of sanity in my life are in fact conjurations of my mind, then let this sleep claim my life, so that I should never awaken again.

---------------------------------------

Unfettered by dreams, Fasul awoke from the brief period of refreshing freedom, and was dismayed to see that everything had not been a fabrication built from his mind. The same drab, sterile ceiling of his room inside the medical facility greeted him. There was nobody else in the room with him, and Fasul noted somewhat relieved, that his body now seemed fully articulate in it’s movements. A heavy scent seemed to fill the room, and at once he realized that he was the source of it. Recalling the words of Enorym, he surmised that had he truly been a resident at this facility for over three years, his body had likely not received a proper washing for some time.

So, filled with the desire to move, Fasul cast off the heavy sheets that covered his body and rose, realizing immediately that he was completely nude. Though perturbed he cast aside the concerns.

After I have washed away the stench of immobility, I shall concern myself with clothing. For now I shall attempt to discover the whereabouts of a cleansing room.

Exiting his room, Fasul found himself in a long corridor, decorated in the same depressing dullness as his room had. Devoid of life, the dimly lit hallway did little to move the dark veil that was pulled over his eyes. The empty echo of his feet padding against the cold metallic ground was the only background noise as Fasul fell into his burgeoning thoughts.

I am no fool. What transpired when I last awoke was no dream. Enorym told me of Geul’s betrayal, and of my own fall into a deep sleep for many years. I was used as a tool by a manipulator, and my life was nearly lost because of it. Why then, do I not think of revenge? I have lost so much time, my beloved Thisbe will have given birth to my second child by now. My chance at redemption was lost. That child will have lived a life without me, and I shall be a stranger to her eyes. They have stolen that from me.

Where is my rage?

Where is my hate?

Was my soul claimed whilst I slept? I prayed for such a thing, but has it indeed come to pass? Is this form I am in nothing more than a husk; an empty shell devoid of a soul? Where then, has my spirit fled? Has it been taken beyond my reach, to the land of the dead, where it shall reunite with dear Absolon? Or is the other way around, and I now find myself walking down this barren walkway, towards a destination that I shall never reach? Is this the home of the Dead?

Death, have you claimed my soul? Whence did you come, and where have you taken me? Is this all that death will give me; a bereft being, eternally damned to wander alone? Has God created this world for those that have lost his favor? The elders spoke in days long passed that God’s eyes could pierce even the most hate-filled souls, and find the good within them. Tell me God, why then, am I within this Hell? Am I possessed of no gentle spirit? Was the father that wept while holding the broken body of his child not worthy of your infinite pity?

Did I fall from your graces when I chose not to accept the horrid words of the separatists that extolled the virtues of merging the Flood forms with our own bodies? If we were created from your breast, then why should we seek to alter our forms, be they as simple as creating defenses against the horrors that you yourself also built? Did my moralistic views not match up with your own?

Hmph, what a petty God you must be.


The infinite hallway was anything but, and Fasul soon reached its end. The lack of any other doors along the route troubled him, but he was pleased to see at least a single doorway. Stepping through, he entered what appeared to be some kind of interface center. An interactive module sat at the far end of the room, which Fasul noted to be empty of anything else. Not even a simple painting decorated the walls.

“I should like to speak with whoever was in charge of decorating this facility,” Fasul mused to himself as he approached the module. At the sound of his voice the screen came to life, and an emotionless, artificial voice spoke to him.

“I am Foln, state your purpose.”

Fasul noticed with interest that the spoken statement was also written across the screen. Most likely for any patients that were deaf.

“I am looking for the washing facilities, I believe I am in heavy need of a cleansing,” Fasul spoke conversationally. It felt like it had been some time since he last spoke fluently with another being.

“Fasul, Patient Eight-Three-Six, voice print recognized. You are under Classification Seven, movement is restricted, please return to your room and await a physician. One will be with you in thirteen hours.”

“Unfortunately I have no intention of returning to my room, Foln, so once again I must ask you, where are the cleansing facilities.”

There was a short pause before the module responded.

“Patient Eight-Three-Six, you are ordered to return to your room, either do so or attendants will be called to escort you back to your room.”

Fasul may have felt amused by the module’s mannerisms, but he was in no mood to argue with an artificial entity.

“Of course, my apologies, I shall do so immediately.”

Doing the opposite of what he stated, Fasul stepped away from the module and headed for the closed door that stood off to the side. As he neared, the door activated and parted, allowing him entrance. When he stepped through, Foln spoke once more.

“Patient Eight-Three-Six, disobeying orders. Attendants alerted, apprehension imminent.”

Sighing remorsefully to himself, Fasul mused, “Would only I have lived in an age when such idiotic inventions had never been made.”

The hallway that led away from the interactive module was of a different form as the one that led into it. The lighting seemed brighter, the air was cleaner, and Fasul noted that there were multiple entryways leading away. He recalled with confusion that the lengthy hallway that came from his own room had been empty of all but the single doorway he had used.

Am I considered a hazard to those within this facility? To think that I would be isolated in such a manner, from what Enorym told me I was unconscious for nearly four years. There is something deeper here, but I what it is, I do not know. Perhaps they feared that I would be enraged when I awoke, and learned of Geul’s betrayal. How unfortunate then, that I feel nothing but sadness for his actions. I have lived through enough torment that I know of the futility that anger creates. Revenge benefits nothing, only the ignorant fool searches for it, and only the truly foolish attempts to carry it out.

The many entranceways proved troublesome for Fasul. While he did not have any problems with his current state of dress, he did not wish to be seen by others. He did have a sense of propriety after all. So he was forced to approach the doorways from the side, and peak his head in, attempting to deduce whether they would lead him to his desired destination.

Once again however, the inept designer of the Sa’yene Medical Center impeded his progress. Each hallway was designed identical, and there existed no identification for where each corridor led. Despite being somewhat carefree at the moment, Fasul had no intention of becoming lost, so he continued along the same straight hallway. Wanting to shift his thoughts from the depression that seemed to be clawing away at his every fiber, Fasul attempted to understand the architecture of the building he was in. He had learned of the Sa’yene Medical Center back when Absolon had first been diagnosed with the D’orl virus. Thisbe and Fasul had discussed for a long time over what the best course of action would be. While the Sa’yene facility was touted as the most advanced, it was also incredibly far from their home in Lithia. In the end, Absolon had made the decision, not wanting to venture so far from his home, the child had begged his parents to be admitted to the medical facilities on his home world.

The facility seemed unnaturally large to Fasul, now that he was walking within it. While the Majal for a time had nearly been eradicated by the D’orl, that was some time ago, and in these days the Majal feared no disease. The necessity of this facility seemed dimmed in times of relative peace, though Fasul admitted to himself that while he was within the confines of his coma, some other form of disease or strife may have struck the Majal population.

  • 07.21.2006 9:26 PM PDT
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Stopping momentarily, Fasul found himself standing in front of a large window. A wasteland of barren rock and dead earth stared back at him. Denthil was a planet empty of habitable atmosphere. It was a desolate rock, many years ago it was an ocean of flames and magma, before it finally died out, and became what Fasul was surveying. The White Dwarf, as the source of light and heat inside this solar system was called, was supplying light to the other side of Denthil, and all that Fasul saw was covered in darkness.

I am not content with this. Why have I been imprisoned here? I wish to see Thisbe, and my unborn child. I long to know if they are well, and if I am still remembered. Enorym has not forgotten me, but his presence is one of guilt. We are friends, and yet he was unable to assist me when his compatriots sought to end my life through sabotage. I do not blame him, but guilt does not come from blame, it comes from an operable conscious, and he is a creature that knows the pain of loss. I am sure he has done all he can for Thisbe and my child. Still, I yearn for Thisbe’s touch; how cruel it is that the day that I finally reconciled with her, that I would be torn away once more.

A thrumming came from behind him, and Fasul turned quickly to see two mechanical drones floating towards him. They were not foreign entities to Fasul, their oval design and single red eye that supplied the drones with vision, were a familiar sight to him. Often the drones were employed as surveillance tools at the Palintheum, especially during the debate over the Flood. He presumed then, that these were no different, and chose not to react as they drew close.

“I surrender,” Fasul said, mockingly, raising his arms in a show of amusement. The machines continued towards him unabated, as he predicted. Once they were within a few feet however, Fasul noticed a distinct characteristic on these drones that hadn’t been present on the surveillance drones from before. From the bottom was a small fixed metal arm, which had a syringe affixed at the end. The needlepoint was directed forwards, which incidentally was pointing directly at Fasul.

Faced with two choices, either waiting to see if the drones really intended to attack, or attempting to run away from them. At the moment, he was not of the opinion that he needed any more rest. As such, he found himself pounding down the hallway, his bare feet slapping against the cold ground fully aware that the drones were giving chase. He hadn’t availed himself on the specs of the drones, and because of that he did not know how fast they could move. A short glance told him enough. The distance between himself and the drones from when he first decided to run had not changed. They were keeping up effortlessly.

The drones had the advantage in that they were mechanical, but Fasul was capable of abstractness, and therefore could use an unpredictable strategy to evade them. For the first time the maze of corridors would work in his favor. Darting down the hallways randomly, Fasul slowly gained a fair distance from the drones, but he knew that it was simply their speed hampering them. He’d seen enough demonstrations to know that they were capable of tracing a single heat signature from over a mile away. If he were going to lose them for good, he would either need to incapacitate them, or put an immovable barrier between himself, and the drones.

For a time, Fasul was lucky when choosing his path. His random darting down different corridors had yet to lead him into a dead end, but as he rounded a corner and chose to enter a somewhat large corridor, he found himself facing a single door. Cursing fate momentarily, he bounded through the door, twisting around once inside. Luck was against him again; there was nothing visible that could possibly lock the door. Cursing once more, Fasul turned haggardly and glanced about; he was in some form of storage room. The hallway he had run down before entering this room had been long; should he try to return, the drones would be upon him quickly. If escape was impossible, that meant he would be forced to halt the drones progress through physical means.

As a storage facility, Fasul noted that the room failed horribly. It was nearly empty. The small space was filled with nothing but stale air and a few metal bars likely there for any elder Majal that may need to use them for support along the walls. They were positioned above the small enclosures near the bottom of the walls that could be lifted and have items stored inside. Without much forethought, Fasul lifted his leg and brought it crashing down against the support bar. The pain was glancing along his leg, but he ignored it and once again slammed the heel of his foot against the bar, noticing with approval that he had knocked it somewhat loose. He gripped it tightly with his hands and tore it free, at precisely the moment when the door opened.

“And here I thought I was going to find you searching for clothing,” the same doctor from the previous time said. He shook his head remorsefully and placed his fists on his hip.

“Your not going to come at me with that thing are you?”

“That depends,” Fasul said warily. “Are you going to try and put me to sleep again?”

“You act like that’s some kind of offense,” the doctor said amusedly. “You have my assurances though, so long as you put that thing down, and put on some clothes, I won’t let those drones have their way with you.”

Cautiously, Fasul placed the makeshift weapon on the ground. The doctor smiled placidly and turned, beckoning for Fasul to follow him. As the still clothes-less Fasul stepped from the room, the doctor was waiting. He extended his arm and handed Fasul a piece of clothing. As he unfurled it, he realized it was a single dress piece, something typically seen on some of the older members of the Majal species. Fasul looked up at the doctor, who shrugged his shoulders and replied:

“Our cliental do not typically wear much else.”

“I see,” Fasul replied slowly. He donned the dress piece, acknowledging that at the very least it was easy to move around in.

“Now that we’ve gotten everything back under control here, may I ask what it was you felt so important that you had to evade and then threaten to destroy our med-drones?” the doctor asked. “Sure you realize that your life was never in danger; the drones carry a simple relaxant that will dull any pain you might be feeling. Its simply a measure we take to ensure potentially violent patients are safe before we approach them.”

“You consider me potentially violent?” Fasul asked, surprised. The doctor tilted his head as they began to walk out of the corridor, and stared deadpan at him.

“Perhaps you forget that moments ago I found you looking crazed, naked, and wielding a weapon.”

“I have no wish to be treated like a prisoner,” Fasul spoke, undeterred. “I have done nothing wrong, and I do not deserve such treatment. I was merely looking for some cleaning facilities so that I might begin to feel as if I were normal again.”

“The precautions we have taken are for your own benefit. We have been monitoring you for years, Fasul. What happened in the Ashion is not something that you can simply ignore.”

“I am not so petty as to seek revenge,” Fasul snorted. “I was betrayed, and used as a pawn, yet I do not feel hatred to those that caused my injury. I am filled with longing to see my beloved Thisbe, and the child that she has reared for years without me. I have no time for revenge.”

Again the doctor looked at Fasul as they walked. His face showed a mixture of disbelief and sadness.

“We have not spoken yet, on the true cause of your incarceration here. I believe now would be as good a time as any. I will say this first; your wife and child are coming to visit you in a day’s time. News of your awakening has reached them, and they departed their home at the first opportunity.”

  • 07.21.2006 9:27 PM PDT
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The information pleased Fasul, even as he began to feel worried over the doctor’s grim look. He had not considered the option that there might have been something actually wrong with him. The blow he received in the Ashion when it malfunctioned was what he perceived as being the reason for his extended slumber. What other reason could there be?

“Do you know how the Ashion functions?” the doctor asked.

“A host enters the shell, and awaits for the piercing light from the interior. A connection between the machine and the mind of the one inside is made. From there, anything that those outside of the Ashion ask, will be answered by the host’s own memories.”

“That is a simple explanation.” The doctor nodded. “There is far more to the operation then that, but it isn’t important right now. Allow me to explain just what happened on the day when you entered the Ashion.

“The sabotage done by the separatists was complicated, and highly irregular. Had they wished, they could have simply rerouted several routine security checks and implanted their falsified memory clips from there. That would have triggered the video displays the moment the Ashion was activated, and would have saved me the trouble of having to studiously observe you for the last several years. However, they didn’t do that, instead, they placed time-delayed activations for their memory clips, so that when a host entered, and the scouring began, they would be played at that point. The important distinction between those two options is that the latter puts the host inside the Ashion in great peril. The images are run through the host, synching with his memory and picked up and displayed through the scouring process.

“In effect, those images become a part of your own memories. What that means is, right now, inside your episodic memory, there are thousands and thousands of memories dealing with the D’orl virus, and the pain that it created. When it was first learned of what transpired inside, I was amazed that you were still alive. The force of having those images forced into your mind, and then displayed for all those to see, it would be enough to send anyone into a nervous breakdown.”

Fasul found that he was struggling to swallow. His mouth had gone dry, and it seemed as if he might become sick.

“I…I was struck by something when I was inside. I fell unconscious shortly after the Ashion began to malfunction. I don’t remember anything after that,” Fasul admitted.

“Humph, that likely saved your life then,” the doctor remarked shortly. “Still, the fact that those images found their way into the Palintheum chamber is enough of an indication that they did synch with your mind, regardless of whether you were conscious or not. So they are definitely somewhere in there.”

The doctor lightly tapped Fasul’s head as he spoke.

“The security precautions we took concerning you should be easier to understand then, right?” he asked, “We didn’t have much of a choice you see; while it was entirely possible you might never wake up from your coma-induced state, there was also an equal chance that you would return to the world of the living and try to relive some of the unending pain in your mind by killing everything in your path.”

“I’m no monster,” Fasul whispered. “I would never do such a thing.”

“Perhaps, but we did not have any guarantees to work with. I specialize in cognitive science, Fasul, and I have observed for a long time, as I mentioned before. If, and when you fall victim to these dormant memories, no matter how gentle you may believe yourself to be, something may happen. ‘From thought, action is born’.”

Fasul chose silence. He denied the doctor’s words even as he accepted them in his heart, and felt the pain that bloomed because of it. He was no monster, that was true; but for how long?

“Here,” the doctor announced, and Fasul found himself standing in front of a door.

“You wanted to clean yourself didn’t you?” the doctor asked when he saw Fasul’s questioning look. “Go in, I’ll escort you back to your room once you’re finished.”

Even as he tells me that I am not a prisoner, he treats me like one.

The room was immaculate; the walls were of a pristine whiteness that cast out a reflection of Fasul as he walked by. He stopped and gazed at himself, realizing that though it felt as if he had just seen himself in the mirror at his home the other day; it had in fact been years. His skin had become pale, the equivalent of the dress-piece he was wearing. His eyes seemed darker than before, as if there was a shadow cast over them. His once proud muscular frame had become soft, like he had lived a life of inactivity. Gazing at the individual differences closely, Fasul finally pulled himself away, and gazed at his body. He looked old, as if he had gained two hundred years of age overnight.

Thisbe shall not recognize me, and my child will recoil.

It was then that Fasul began to feel the twinges of anger. He hated the Majal that had caused everything to happen. He hated Geul for his trickery and deceit. He hated Enorym for not doing something to help him in the Palintheum. He hated the doctor that had constrained his movements like he was a criminal. He hated Thisbe for not being there to tell him that all was still well. He hated his child for the confusion that he imagined in it’s eyes when it would see him for the first time. He hated the universe for giving him such a cursed life. He despised the God that would give grief to His creations, with no signs of relief.

Lashing out, Fasul struck the elderly stranger staring back at him. He was weak, and the display of violence did nothing but hurt his hand. The reflection still mirrored his grief; it had not gone away. Disgruntled, Fasul pulled away and staggered towards the bathing area. The basin was empty of water, but the stall with a mounted faucet dripped water, and he came to stand underneath it. He could not see any controls to operate it, but the moment the thought crossed him mind, scalding hot water poured out and struck him. He did not recoil; instead he relished the pain.

Let this water wash away my spirit, for I know now that I still walk amongst the living. I no longer wish to stay within this world, there is nothing tying my soul here anymore. Should you find me Death, I shall welcome you with open arms.

Anguish flowed from his unseeing eyes, the tears mixed with the tepid water as they fell against the broken body. The dress-piece clung against his skin tightly, yet Fasul made no move to remove it. His was a mind far ravaged by this universe. The spirit of Majal and God was not infinite. Pain burns all, equally, and it breaks the strongest of souls. A creature of indeterminable strength, Fasul braved every pain the universe brought to bare against him, but faced with the ignorance and hatred of his entire race, he collapsed. What creature should be forced to carry the burden of being the catalyst for a war he did not start?

The Majal had moved on since that day in the Palintheum, but for Fasul it was only beginning.

-------------------------------------------------

The long hallway that led into Fasul’s room and no other acted as a causeway through which the bowed Majal could here others coming. Footsteps, no matter how light, echoed soundly down the hallway and into his room. Thumping, swishing, swaying, the noise served as a constant reminder of his condition. Those steps were meant only for him, as they never receded until the creator of those noises arrived within his room. Each step drove the blade deeper into his heart; the reason he was in that room, the reason that so many came to see him, it was always there. He was determined to be a dormant criminal. One that had not acted violently, but there was little uncertainty on that matter. His undoing at the hands of the separatist’s act of sabotage would claim his mind. He would cease being Fasul, and in his place would stand a maddened creature, overcome with memories of death and sadness, none of which he had ever witnessed with his own eyes.

And so, a day after he had spoken with the doctor, and fallen into depression within the cleansing area, Fasul found himself lamenting the single footsteps echoing within his room.

Cruel world! You have seen fit to take from me my family, my life, and even my own mind! Yet now I lay here upon this bed of thorns, wishing that I could have but a moment of silence whilst I prepare myself for my death, and you deny me that right! Spoiler of life, shall you deny my every wish? Or will you twist them into terrible things like you did with my dear child, Absolon? Find another soul to torture, for I have no desire to bare the sins of all my people.

Louder and louder the steps became, until it sounded as if Fasul’s heart was thudding within his mind. The beat of drums to signal the oncoming army, hell bent on conquering everything that lay before them. How he wished it would go away! Would the universe not be pleased until he had succumbed to the madness dwelling within the darkest recesses of his mind? Then at this moment he would gladly give them the pleasure, if only it would end the incessant thumping that grew louder with every step. The reaper of souls was coming for him; only a demon of the next life could have such heavy steps.

At the moment when it seemed that if the steps grew any louder he might combust, they stopped. Fasul knew what this meant; his visitor had arrived. Fasul knew then that it was Enorym, though he knew this without having to look up and see whom it was.

“I apologize for not being here yesterday,” Enorym said, by way of a greeting.

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“I hold no expectations of you,” Fasul shot back, deadpanned.

“Is that so?” Enorym asked, stepping into the room and approaching Fasul’s bedside. An uncomfortable pause grew, as Fasul began to feel more and more annoyed with Enorym’s presence.

“I presume you came here for a reason?” Fasul finally asked. Enorym smiled and nodded in reply. “Then tell me what that reason is and leave me be. The doctors here tell me that I am a danger to everyone but myself.”

“I would like to speak to you, Fasul, but not here. Will you walk with me?”

Fasul considered what Enorym asked. Granted he had no desire to stay within this room any longer, but he also had no desire to hear any more of what Enorym might tell him. News of the politics involved with the Majal concerned him not in the least any longer. He wished to wash his hands of those affairs.

In the end his desire to move about and feel that he was still in control of his body overcame his other concerns. He followed Enorym away from his room and down the isolated hallway, no words passing between the two. An unending series of passageways passed by as they walked. Enorym seemed to know the facility well, as he moved with assurance even while Fasul kept up, curiosity nagging at his mind as to where their destination lay. The hallways were as empty as the last time Fasul navigated through them, and he wondered briefly whether the medical facility employed actual Majal, instead of machines.

It would turn out there was an actual staff of Majal working. Fasul and Enorym stopped above a second-level balcony that overlooked a patient observatory station. Doctors and other medical personnel studiously observed the monitors displaying vital information for every patient. The area was expansive, and Fasul stared in admiration. The ceiling was shaped into an arch, and instead of the drab grey it was a heavy industrial glass that permitted one to look out at the great expanse of space. The image was captivating, especially for Fasul, who had not found the time to explore the universe like much of his colleagues had in their younger days.

“Thisbe is going to arrive in a short while,” Enorym said casually, his eyes affixed upwards and away from Fasul, “I wanted to make sure I was able to speak with you before she arrived.”

Fasul was barely listening to Enorym. The combination of the scenery, and the mention of Thisbe, had sent his mind down a different track. Enorym noticed this.

“I would ask that you at least give me your attention for a moment. Though you may think I have come with no intention, my words carry weight.”

Fasul’s eyes closed, and his head lowered as he turned his attention to Enorym.

“Speak if you must.”

The tone of Fasul’s voice struck a chord with Enorym, and he steeled himself for what he was about to say.

“Your spirit, and your attitude tell me enough; you know of the illness you are now confronted with.”

“It is no illness,” Fasul retorted angrily, “It is a curse, a burden that is placed on my undeserving shoulders, by a people who I have come to loath.”

“The Majal have wronged you then, is that it?” Enorym asked.

“Do not pretend to be a fool, Enorym,” Fasul warned, “You were in the Palintheum when I entered the Ashion, unaware of what awaited me. I was nothing more than a pawn used to further the cause of the separatists. Geul betrayed the cause of the loyalists, even while they allowed my painful past to be used to further their own goals. Each side saw in me a tool to advance their cause, and did not hesitate to use me. Are you here to tell me that I have come to the wrong conclusion?”

“At that time, both sides of the debate looked upon you with greed filled eyes, I do not discount that,” Enorym said. “My question now is whether or not you believe yourself to be attributed any blame for what happened.”

“Blame? Am I supposed to feel guilty because I sought to share my pain with our people? Is it my fault that I stepped within the Ashion, not aware that potential death awaited me? Was I to know and understand that the words of peace that existed amongst the Majal could be so easily cast aside to simply further ones goals!? Hypocrisy consumes the Majal as they are, and I only wish I could have seen it sooner, so that I might have avoided becoming a catalyst to such a pointless debate. Where does my blame lay then, Fasul?”

Enorym studied Fasul’s animated features, and noted his face fell into a look of pained sadness.

“You speak with self-righteousness now, Fasul. I cannot help but remember a time when your speech was filled with kindness, and intelligence.”

“The pain of being betrayed by ones people will do that,” Fasul remarked darkly.

“Were you forced to make your account before the Palintheum that morning?” Enorym asked suddenly, viciously. His soft tone disappeared and now replaced with a hardened edge. He continued without waiting for Fasul’s answer.

“Geul asked that you make your statement within the Ashion, and you made no objection. For days you had to ponder the reason why he would ask you to do such a task, and still your answer was the same. Why did you step into the Ashion on your own volition? What did you think you would contribute to the unending debate between both sides?”

“I thought that they intended to have me repeat my experiences with D’orl virus, and the loss of Absolon,” Fasul answered, somewhat cowed by Enorym’s questioning.

“Your tale of loss, while tragic, is no different than the thousands of other Majal that experienced the sting of loss associated with the D’orl. What made you think that you were any different from them?”

“Despite my loss, I did not seek out so easy an answer as to turn to the Flood genetics. I stayed with the teachings of our ancestors,” Fasul replied, attempting to put more weight behind his words.

“So it was your morals that you thought were enough to impact those inside the Palintheum? The same individuals who had debated for years on the subject of the Flood genetic code, they were supposed to be moved by your tale of woe?”

Fasul’s features twisted into a scowl as he prepared to rebuke Enorym for his callousness, but Enorym silenced him with a raised hand.

“Absolon’s death was a tragedy, I do not wish to argue that fact. What I wish to understand is why you stepped into the Ashion that day. What did you hope to do?”

“I have told you why I agreed to Geul’s proposition,” Fasul said evenly.

“Do not be a fool!” Enorym shouted angrily. “You spoke to me of naivety once. Lying to yourself will not change what truly occurred. You are intelligent, and aware of the culture to which you belong, you would not step so foolishly into the Ashion believing that your memories could sway an entire society. What was it then, that drove you to do it? What propelled your body into that machine?”

Fasul’s face had gone pale, and his body began to tremble. Enorym was raising memories he had wished to bury forever into his mind. He was stepping into the main floor of the Palintheum, staring out at the great expanse of Majal, all eyes settled upon him as he moved towards the Ashion. His trepidation as he crossed inside the Ashion, and the entrance closed behind him. Waiting and wondering what it would feel like, the fear over the drudging up of his memories of Absolon, and the panic before the sabotage even began to take place.

What did I think as I found myself inside the domed seclusion of the Ashion? What did I fear? I could not stand the thought of Absolon being displayed for all to see. I wasn’t able to come to terms with reliving that experience again. I could not justify it! Oh what a damnable fool I am!

Enorym looked on at Fasul in worry, as the elder Majal’s face twisted into deep sorrow, and he nearly fainted. Fasul caught himself on the railing overlooking the lower floor, as Enorym rushed to his side.

“Are you all right my friend?” he asked worriedly. Fasul’s breath was coming in short gasps, and his eyes were misty with burgeoning tears. He looked up at Enorym, and spoke what he knew in his heart.

“I wished to test my faith,” he admitted. “I wanted to know just how deeply I believed in the cause I was fighting for.”

A pained look crossed Fasul’s face and he looked away.

“But I failed. I could not bare the thought of Absolon’s death, and I wished to shut it away forever. I spurned his memory, and chose to make it my nightmare. At the moment when I stepped into the Ashion, my faith faltered, and the specter of Absolon’s life and death overcame me. I could not justify my belief in our elders.”

“Then if at the time of Absolon’s life, had the procedure of inserting Flood genetics into a Majal was perfected…”

“I would have taken it!” Fasul exclaimed audibly, cutting Enorym off. “Even without any certainties to its effectiveness, I would not have hesitated even for a moment. I am a hypocrite, and a liar. I have lied to myself, to my kin, to Thisbe, and worst of all to Absolon himself. I could not admit it to myself at the time; I wished to believe in the one constant that still existed in my life. The words and laws our ancestors had created.”

“Why?” Enorym asked simply, gently.

“Because it was all I had left. My dear Absolon was dead, Thisbe was a stranger to me, and my own people were attempting to change even the way we existed. I grasped onto that final hand, hoping it could me afloat. I convinced myself that the laws were unmovable, and any who went against them were fools.

  • 07.21.2006 9:28 PM PDT
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“All I wished for was that all I held dear could remain the same. It was a childish wish, but I believed as hard as I could that it might come true. Instead everything has changed, and I have been left behind.”

Enorym did not speak; he waited as Fasul struggled to come to terms with himself. The admission, and his revelation, they were not things one could so easily reveal and live with in a short time. Perhaps he waited a few minutes before speaking; perhaps it was several hours. It did not matter; he waited until Fasul was beginning to calm himself before he spoke again.

“Do not feel shame, my friend. Your wish was childish indeed, but there is not a creature within this universe that would not share that same wish should they find themselves in your situation. You erred when siding with the laws of the past, but I understand why you did. There was a time when I despised my mate for her death. I felt she had abandoned me, and for many seasons I tried to never think of her. I was acting out of grief, much like you did when you chose your faith, over your love for Absolon.”

Fasul seemed to understand the meaning in Enorym’s words, and he took them to heart as he began to stabilize himself. Enorym, seeing the hint of understanding in his friend’s eyes, stepped back and smiled. Fasul no longer appeared to be wavering on the edge. He was resolute in his frame, his mind, and his heart.

“I am happy for you Fasul, and I am glad that I have given you the hand that would pull you away from destruction,” Enorym said. “But my intention for this day was two-fold. There is one last thing I must speak with you about before I allow you to await Thisbe and your child.”

“I will listen for as long as you wish me to,” Fasul said, as he offered a weak smile graciously. “I find myself once again in your debt, my friend. You have done me a great service.”

“Modesty has its place, but I will not shy away from my task. I have come here with the intention of filling in the space in your memory; from the moment you entered the Ashion, to when you awoke just two days before. Much of what I will speak about, will cause you distress, but you must understand, and to do that, you will listen to all I have to say.”

Fasul, who had begun to look relieved, reaffirmed his grim look and steeled himself.

“What amount of satisfaction you may take from it I do not know, but I will tell you that the act of sabotage on the Ashion was not a simple terrorist movement. As abhorrent as the deed was, it was not simply baseless extremism. Though I did not discover this for several days, on reflection I now see that there had been inordinate amounts of thought placed on that move.

“Behind the scenes of the separatist movement, work has consistently continued on the extraction of the Flood genetic code we desired to integrate within a Majal. For decades we met with continuous failure after continuous failure. Finally, three years before you stepped into the Ashion, seven accredited Majal biologists contacted the Elders that stood at the forefront of our faction. While the majority of the scientific community had decided to stay on the side of neutrality throughout the debate, the seven biologists were deeply interested in the Flood genetics. They sided with the separatists, while never actually believing in our cause. If your memory permits, you may recall the scientists that were originally tasked with categorizing and observing the select species on newly discovered planets.”

“I remember, though their names escape me,” Fasul said.

“They originally discovered the Flood in its doomed habitat, and since their initial discoveries involving the healing genome within the organisms, they had begun to yearn for another opportunity to study it. Keeping all moralistic musings aside, with the biologists at the helm work progressed exponentially and it soon became apparent that the day when the process of separating the Flood genetic code, and inserting it within a Majal would actually come to fruition. As such, the political steps the separatists had planned were pushed aside for the time being, and steps were taken to ensure public support when it was announced that the procedure was completed.

“As you know well, when dealing with politics it is easy to lose sight of the cause for fighting at any level. With the many years of bickering back and forth, the separatists felt that the actual reason behind their rallying for a solution to the weakness that we possess had been forgotten. Or at the very least pushed to the backs of everyone’s mind. Thus the idea of using the vast amounts of unreleased personal accounts of the D’orl virus in action was born. Because of the terrible way the Elders decided to resurge the D’orl virus, the operation was kept completely silent. I was blind to their true ambition, and much like yourself, I found myself being used as a pawn; instructed to retrieve the true reason behind your planned trip inside the Ashion.

“So, the moment came when I expected to be sitting before the memories you held, but instead, the Palintheum was filled with images of thousands of Majal, both sick and dying. Amidst the medley of chaos that erupted, the Elders amongst the separatists proclaimed that the debate was now pointless, as the procedure had been perfected. Any Majal that desired to be cured of any future concern in regards to their health, were given the opportunity to undergo the procedure, with nothing given in return. Certainly at first there was an incredible amount of scorn, and only the truly dedicated to the separatist’s cause underwent the procedure. But as time went on, and no side effects arose, more and more Majal began flocking to the centers set up. The loyalists protested, and attempted to dissuade others from using the free procedure, but it was to no use. Time passed, and even the loyalists lost faith when they saw that the Flood genetic code really did work.”

A twisted smile alighted Fasul’s face.

“I do not blame them. In an age where the looming shadow of the Gray Seasons is still prevalent, it would be impossible to stare into the face of a cure and resist. The fear of an untimely death would frighten even the most avid advocate when they were away from the crowds amongst the Palintheum.”

“I am pleased that you think so,” Enorym said gently, “Because before Thisbe arrived with your beautiful daughter, I wanted you to know that when your child was but one year into her life, Thisbe took her to undergo the Procedure.”

Something like a fifty-pound weight seemed to have crashed into Fasul’s stomach, as his body was rocked with Enorym’s words. His mind seemed torn in two; at once filled with joy at the news he had a daughter, and pain at the thought of Thisbe betraying him. He had come to terms with his falsely believing in the words of the ancestors, but in Thisbe’s mind, she would have still believed him to be dead set on adhering to the laws.

“You spoke the words yourself, Fasul,” Enorym said, seeing his distress, “You could not blame those who would be lured by the promise of a cure to any past and future strife.”

“Yes…but,” Fasul struggled to find the right words.

“You’re struggling with this dilemma presented to you. Perhaps I have no words of comfort, but should I ever have been in your place right now, I would not feel betrayed. Instead I would be consumed with jealousy.”

He paused when he saw Fasul’s confused look, and then continued unabated.

“Thisbe chose to take your daughter, and allowed the Flood genetics to enter her child’s body, not because she wished to defy your beliefs, but because she loved her child with all her heart. Thisbe did what you wished that you had been able to do for Absolon. She gave your daughter a life free of any unnecessary worry, and for that, I would feel envy.”

Fasul’s mind was still conflicted, though he could at the very least understand the underbelly of truth that Enorym spoke with.

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“The times have changed, Fasul,” Enorym began, “It has been a long time since there was a split amongst our people. There is no divide between those who have underwent the surgery involved with the procedure, and those who chose to remain a pure Majal. It is unfortunate that you have remained in stasis while the rest of our society has mended, and begun to move on since then. That is your lose, and I have come here today to hopefully lay the groundwork for the time when you may begin to heal in your own way.

“There isn’t much else I can say to you Fasul, aside from this last advice. Since Absolon’s death, you began to look for an outlet to vent your frustrations over the untimely death of your child. You found that outlet amongst the political stage involved with the Flood genetics. At first you did so because you found it abhorrent to the laws written by our ancestors, but you must remember that they were simple Majal like you or I. They were not wiser simply because of the time period they lived in. You realized that after a time, and at that time you began to despise those that touted the benefits of the Flood because you despised the idea that stopping the D’orl virus could be so easy. When Absolon died you were helpless, and now others were trying to say that a simple medical procedure could have wiped away all the pain you’d felt since that day.

“You are arrogant Fasul, when you believed that you knew best. Your adherence to the old laws was your way of looking down at the rest of us. Even those that shared your beliefs, they did not escape your personal form of scorn. For many years you stood atop the ledge overlooking out people, and you deemed yourself better than the rest of us. Whether that has begun to change now, it is irrelevant. I am pleading with you my friend; learn to forgive what has been done. Hatred for what happened in the past will only pull you away from the path to healing your wounds. It is fine to carry remorse for what you have lost, but hate and anger are emotions that cannot be held tightly to your chest for too long.

“All I can ask of you is that, when you look into the eyes of your daughter for the first time, do not allow yourself to see the reflection of those that nearly took your life. See the same daughter that Thisbe chose to save even as she knew she went against your own beliefs.”

Enorym set one hand heavily on Fasul’s shoulder, before delivering his final words.

“Long ago, you consoled me when I lost my mate to the same disease that took your son. You helped me work through the pain that I kept close to my chest, and ever since then I have sought to return that favor. I believe I have done so now. There is no debt owed on your part, we are finally even.”

A hard look was all Enorym delivered after that, before turning away and disappearing down the corridor they had arrived through. Fasul stayed behind, his body weighed down by his thoughts.

--------------------------------------------

Let go of my hate…

It is something easier said than done. For a time I believed that I held no scorn in my heart, and as Enorym said, I considered myself above the petty spite that would consume other Majal. They were not as wise as me, I believed. Have I truly been so arrogant in the past? I can gain nothing from thinking in such foolish terms, but why is it that I have only begun to see that now? Did I need someone to point this out to me? If so, I am more indebted to Enorym then he may think.

Thisbe acted out of love. The instinctual love she felt for her daughter. The same love that drove her into seclusion after Absolon passed, and she was incapable of doing anything for him. I felt the same as her at the time, but why did I strive for a sense of order through the Palintheum, while she did not? Was it the child that grew within her? Did the knowledge that she would soon birth another child give her the resolution to hold to her feelings of love? I cast my own aside then, when I realized that my love for Absolon did nothing to stop him from passing.

Was it all nothing more than a game of chance? Had I seen the chance for redemption in my next child, would I have not strayed into a path of darkness? Can life truly be described with so simple a set of rules? What conclusion then, am I to draw? Did I throw away such a sizable portion of my life to arrogance? When will the answer come to me, or shall I have to find it with my own hands?


Pacing back and forth within his secluded medical room, Fasul idly wondered how long he had spent thinking over his conversation with Enorym.

The answer shall not come to me, until I look into Thisbe’s eyes, and my daughter’s. That is where I will find my answer.

A sharp intake of breath caught his attention and Fasul turned his head quickly. There at the doorway to his room stood his mate, Thisbe. Her hand was interlaced with another, and slowly Fasul found himself gazing upon the sight of a beautiful young Majal. He knew then that it was his daughter, and at once he found tears in his eyes. The sound of a suppressed sob drew his attention back to Thisbe, who had her covered her mouth with her hand as tears slipped freely down her face.

At the moment of truth, there was no question that needed answering in his heart. Fasul’s arms outstretched, beckoning Thisbe to him, and she rushed towards him, wrapping herself in his arms as she began sobbing. Fasul closed his eyes as he felt the wave of calm sweep over him. He was at peace then, for the first time since Absolon’s death, he felt at peace. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring down at his daughter, who had followed her mother, but stopped several feet short. Their eyes met, and Fasul found himself faced with nothing more than the gentleness he had last felt when he had stared down into the eyes of Absolon. There was no hate or scorn towards Thisbe for her decision.

Looking into the eyes of his child, Fasul realized that he carried no hate any longer. There was remorse for the time he lost, but that was the limit of his regret. As Thisbe’s arms encircled him, her sobs muffled by the cloth on his chest, Fasul smiled. His daughter slowly smiled back, and he knew that he was ready to start the healing process. Faced with his mate and his daughter, Fasul realized that he wished to become someone they could depend on, and though it may take time he was willing to work for as long as possible. Thisbe would become his support for now, and he knew that she would welcome his weight.

There had come no sound as Thisbe and his daughter approached his room, and that reassured him most of all that everything would be all right from now on.

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Author’s Notes: Urrrrgh, this chapter just did not want to get written. No real explanation, though a serious setback in my internet access being forcibly removed by an unknown source for most of the week certainly attributed to that.

Only one more chapter left in the Forerunner Chronicles! WOW!


  • 07.21.2006 9:29 PM PDT
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This chapter was, quite obviously, more of a character development chapter, so I expect the vast majority of people who tolerated the last chapter to suddenly send me a billion reviews and replies saying this one bored them to tears.

My response?

If you want action, watch a movie for God's sake.

The final chapter will detail the downfall of the Majal. The emergence of the Half-Breeds, the discovery and training of the Reclaimers. The building of the Halo Installations, and finally the detonation of the Halo Installations.

Then we're back into the main story. I'm sure that'll please a whole lot of you, if there's anyone left that is by then.

  • 07.21.2006 9:31 PM PDT
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Aim: Avfootballfreek6

YAY it feels like christmas!!! ...GREAT chapter

[Edited on 7/21/2006]

  • 07.21.2006 10:03 PM PDT
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ok i have just finished chapter 7. and while i agree you are a better writer then i, i still would like to read the next halo book before making my desicsion on which is better. good job though

  • 07.21.2006 10:37 PM PDT
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Posted by: newdeamonomic
ok i have just finished chapter 7. and while i agree you are a better writer then i, i still would like to read the next halo book before making my desicsion on which is better. good job though


I never said I was better than the Halo novels.

  • 07.21.2006 10:48 PM PDT
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Can you sum it real quick? I haven't read this in months so I have no idea what the first chapters were about.

  • 07.21.2006 10:54 PM PDT