InsaneJournal

The green of eyes lifts and separates, becoming liquid light. Not the same, but somehow not so different.

A thought becomes its own awareness: There is light, and it is not me.

Memory and ghosts; awareness drifts among them with a growing sense of wonder and confusion. What are these, that are not me?

Knowledge that is at once familiar and not keeps the awareness from drifting too far into the flowing green. The three friends, torn asunder, shall be reunited; sparks of strength and charisma and a fiery madness draw together like stars, their gravity too powerful even now, even here.

They are One, and they are not.

All the awareness knows is that its own existence is as one with theirs. The voice that calls above all others has made that plain: lacking any other template, the voice has taken the raw and shaped it into the familiar.

The three would be reborn, and from them, the One.

There are two others, realized the awareness. I am one, of three.

The voice shaped them as men, for that was the template of the One. The voice dressed them in leather and steel, for that, also, was of the One.

Beyond his fingertips, two others rode the current of green. I don’t know them, but I do.

The voice howled as the green light rejected the two, the ones who were nearly complete, tossing them out to the world beyond.

For a moment, the awareness knew only terror; then came a loneliness profound enough to cripple. Together! he cried. We must be together! I don’t know what I am without you!

Memories of heat and betrayal and despair, of crushing pain and a loss that tore at the edges of his sanity flooded through the awareness, and he wept like a child.

The voice whispered to him, named him Kadaj.

The green light dropped him on hard ground, alone.

Knowing only that he was one of three, and together they were One, the newborn avatar took his first stumbling steps in search of the rest of his soul.