It is painful.
The progression of time is painful.
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To the ones Who wished, Who will and to those Who are to come.
Please,
Leave me be to the Solace of Silence.
My Eternal Solitude.
Pass be the ages whence I roamed, fester be the memories of the time when I was.
Let be; I, As a Grain of Weathered Sand in the rampaging winds of a Typhoon — One that many call Time.
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These words had been carved into the stone before the entrance to a cave. It had been long. So, very long since I had these carved at the mouth of my resting place.
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I, sat here in my throne of darkness alone, In cold embrace of the night, a cage I made myself. A guilt-made prison.
For I am some...thing, that had shed itsef from the constraints of time and of life.
A prideful endeavor, fitting for a being such as I.
=====
"A Lich—"
"—They say it is a being of undeath, one who had cast away their soul to stay permanently amongst those who live in the mortal realms."
Recited a middle-aged man in graying priestly vestments as the group he was with trudged across the steep and winding paths of the Valsi Mountains.
"This one is a peculiar one, A scourge that has tainted His once grand stature. A Former Priest, if by the records of the Altars are correctly spoken." He added. "—and if those records are wrong, which they rarely are, prepare for the worst."
"How about you stop idling aroud and hurry up so we can get a leg on and finish this quest already." Nagged another member of the group as she kicked the back of the priest's leg. "You nervous or something?"
The rest of the group laughed as they watched the two bicker like they usually do, even if it was before their greatest hurdle yet.
"Okay, That is enough everyone. Let's start preparing camp before daylight settles down over the horizon. Tomorrow will be a busy day. We need all the rest we can have and get." Said a man that was fully encased in a Knight's armor, intervening with the bickering party members as he looked upon the horizon to see a setting sun.
"Then I'll set up the the camp." Said a young man.
"I'll go out and find firewood them, Care to join me?" Added one with a staff as she nudged the one who just bickered with the Priest.
"Hurry up! We don't want to be cold tonight!" Yelled the Priest as he watched the two slowly disappear into the woods.
"Just shut up!" Yelled from inside the forest.
Another roar of laughter came as the rest of the party heard the reply.
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It is... was a cumbersome time, a bland —near distasteful one too. The passage of time is but a flash and a painful one.
A being during the Grand Era. Where Pioneers, Heroes and Legends were born left and right, An Era when Gods seemed to favor and regaled the stories of man —of Champions. He was considered one of the top candidates to inherit the Annals and ascend to become one of many who reached the Tor'Izzackur.
And yet. His story ended so abruptly. The making of great man was cut short by an accident. One ever-so wrought in dubious play, it was hidden and locked, never written, never passed down.
A conspiracy so interwoven with the grand play that it took with it 2 continents, 7 different countries, the lives of at least a few million beings and created 38 of the 56 wonders of the world we have today.
He alone is responsible for half of those and yet, after all was said and done. There was no news, He just vanished from the world.
That... was sixteen thousand years ago.
Now, The Gods have returned after all those years —They are now ready for yet another stage play.
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"Finally! This will be the end of your tyranny, You who strayed from the Order!" Yelled a young man as he dashed along the room with a sword in hand.
"Tyranny? I have done none of what you have said to the world." Echoed the Lich as he watched the party run past the halls of his Solace and into the Throne room. "Brave. Foolish but Brave. Child, Do not believe everything those Gods tell you lest you be estranged from the world."
"Coming from a Lich who defied natural law —the cycle of life and death. You think of me as a fool?" The Brave retorted as he whipped his sword up to point to the Lich who sat at the throne."
"I hope you have repented in all these years of your solitude, For we have come to release you of your unnatural shackles that let you cling to life." Added the Priest. "I hope you have said your prayers and made your amends."
"You are here." Said the Lich as he looked calmly upon the Group of Five from his throne, A Brave, Priest, Druid, Ranger and a Knight.
Another cohort of children, I suppose. Rabble that those False Prophets groom to be; Dancing puppets of their beliefs, believers of the Gods that had toyed with Mankind, abandoned the world to destitution... to rot.
Maybe the upcoming days, wouldn't be so bleak and dull.
"Sixteen thousand years, I had been left alone. The Gods must have returned."
"The Gods names are not to be blasphemed by your words, Undead." Retorted the Priest. "We offer you salvation. Accept it."
"Then, Entertain me. Provide me this proof of yours; for the ability to take this falsity of a Life that I now have. Do not disappoint me as those who have come hundreds of years before you have." He replied.
His bony frame slowly stood up and the glow inside his bare skull glowed once more even brighter as he left his throne before producing a staff that looked newly made.
"Show to me — death."