-General-
-¿?-
Varda gazed upon the horizon. A faint yet perceptible pulse shimmered in the firmament, drawing her eyes. She knew that her father, Eru, was watching as well, and a smile curved upon her lips. "How special my little star must be," she thought tenderly.
"Does your sight beyond discern anything?" she asked Vairë.
The Weaver shook her head softly, waiting a moment, expectant before the course of Tindómiel's son's fate.
"Darkness… shadows enshroud him. Something prevents me from beholding beyond the abyss," she murmured gravely. "There is something dark, something ancient, that rests in the depths where he has fallen."
The serene and fragrant face of Varda grew somber, her furrowed brow betraying the unease that weighed upon her. A chilling premonition froze her blood.
"You say something bars your sight?" she asked in a grave tone that resonated within Tindómiel's heart. "I fear that what the boy now faces is far beyond what his strength can endure at this time."
"What do you mean, Lady Varda?!" Tindómiel cried urgently. Fear had already taken root in her heart at Vairë's words, and now it swelled with violence. What kind of being, or what magic, could obscure the vision of a Vala? And what peril must her son face, if even the mightiest of the Valier showed concern?
For a moment, Vairë fell silent. The grave look from Varda sufficed as an answer, and within herself she understood what must remain unspoken. Yet when she beheld the tearful eyes of poor Tindómiel, wet with anguish, she took pity on her.
"You know our history, Tindómiel," she said at last, her voice calm. "But we have not yet told you the very beginning."
For a moment, Vairë lifted her gaze to Varda, who returned it. A slight nod from the Queen of the Stars gave her leave, and so the Weaver began to speak:
"This knowledge is known only to us," she said gravely. "Manwë was not the first to descend, but Melkor… or as you know him: Morgoth. Few remember it, but in the beginning he was the strongest among us all; unstoppable, for not even united were we a match for his might.
» Yet great was our astonishment when we found him wounded and battered upon our arrival. Yavanna and Estë healed his wounds, yet unease filled our hearts. When we asked what had transpired, Melkor spoke to us of dark creatures dwelling in Arda since its dawn, forged by our Father in the deep of His design. He recounted the abominable form of such beings and how, after their rebellion, they were cast into the depths of the earth. We know not what they were, nor what name to call them; thus they remained in memory as nameless creatures."
To say that Tindómiel's face changed was little; the elf, overwhelmed, collapsed onto Vairë's wide velvet couch. Disbelief shone in her eyes. She had been the greatest adventurer in all Arda, had roamed deep and ancient caverns, yet never had she heard of the nameless creatures. She had never encountered such horrors… and now her son, her little Aldril, was to face them as a trial of ascension?
"No… my child, no," she murmured with a broken voice. But suddenly she sprang to her feet, as if ignited by a new fire. "I must go to his aid! I cannot abandon him!"
Before Tindómiel could run forth, a gentle hand rested upon her shoulder, firm as steel yet delicate as the breeze. Struggle as she might, she could not break free from Varda's serene grasp.
"Be still," said the Queen of the Stars. "It is a trial the boy must overcome. Do you not trust your son? Besides… the stars have aligned, as though they call to me."
And, as if to confirm her words, a dazzling streak rose upon the horizon, shining so brightly that it outshone all others.
Varda smiled, her eyes alight with expectation, and turned her gaze toward Tindómiel.
"If you could send your son a message… what would it be?"
-Depths-
Those slimy, misshapen tentacles held the three fast, immobilizing them. Their weapons had long been lost in the deep waters. Fear clung to them like a second skin, stinging, as though something sought to enter their minds. Aldril, with desperate effort, poured all his will into resisting.
[Mentality: LV 9] [Attribute points: 80 → 0]
Even with his heightened mental strength, the feeling of oppression did not fade. The abomination seemed to revel in the torment, tightening its grip with greater force and tearing growls of pain from them. The other creature that had fallen with them had already been devoured, its remains dragged into the darkness of the lake.
What do I do? Aldril thought, searching desperately for a countermeasure. His weapons were out of reach, and he couldn't even gesture to summon them. A dizziness overtook him, his eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment.
"Aldril, hold on! Don't let sleep claim you!" cried Gandalf. For some reason, the monstrosity ignored him and the others; its entire focus seemed fixed on Aldril. The wizard could almost touch with his hand the dark mist enveloping the young man, as if it sought to claim him.
Weakened by that unfathomable shadow, Aldril's head drooped, his eyelids falling lower with every second. With a groan he managed to gather what little awareness remained; there was no other choice left. He touched with his mind the card that glowed with an ethereal radiance, unleashing the full force of his strength.
But the scene he expected—to break the tentacles and rise against the creature—never came. Instead, the world shattered, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself once more in the last night he remembered before his reincarnation.
The warm home, cozy and familiar, stood before him. "What's happening?" he murmured, looking at his hands. There were the calluses hardened by years of labor; his skin, once clean, was again that of a weary man. With trembling hands he touched his face, feeling the rough beard.
"Was it all a dream?" he whispered, on the verge of tears for all he had lost. "No… it can't be. What dream lasts so long? And there are no signs I ever fell into a coma…"
And his doubts vanished when he saw the small figure approaching. Its white, fluffy fur swayed with each step, its tail wagged happily side to side, and its black eyes sparkled with pure joy.
"Bolita…" Aldril whispered, his vision blurred with tears he refused to shed.
"I missed you so much, my girl…" he said, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around the pet who had accompanied him for sixteen years. He felt the warmth of her body, the soft brush of her fur, and for an instant the entire world disappeared.
The memory he carried of her was very different: lying on her bed, her eyes clouded by blindness, her body consumed by old age, her fur dull and sparse. To see her now, so alive and radiant, filled him with joy, but also tore at his heart anew.
"They say that when one dies, the dogs and cats who walked beside them in life wait in the beyond, awaiting their arrival…" he murmured, stroking his little dog's soft back. A trembling smile curved his lips as tears clouded his vision.
"That's why you're here, isn't it, my love?" he whispered, pressing her against his chest as though fearing to lose her once again.
"You are not mistaken." Said the same voice—his voice. Slowly turning, he came face to face with himself… with Aldril.
**
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