Soul Aside by Xia Nightingale (the gingerbread man read aloud .txt) 📕

White pure skies above, white chrysanthemums as far as the eye could see below. That was all that existed in this place. There were no birds to be heard or any other creature – a complete world of ephemeral silence, however, by no means was it devoid of all life.

In the middle of this flower-filled realm, a young man adorned in black and indigo blue stood alone. He could not remember how he came to be here or why the only thing he knew for sure was that this place gave him a feeling of strong nostalgia with every flower that his eyes looked upon. A soft gale swept over the flowers. Closing his eyes, he found comfort in the winds touch on his skin and the momentary peace this world provided.

After a moment's repose, questioning thoughts came to him such as; where had he come from? Had he come to this world before? Or perhaps this place is his home…? No, that didn’t seem to be the case, he was positive that he did not belong to this world and yet it welcomed him with open arms. He had no desire to leave. Even if there seemed no obvious water source or food to gather, he happily accepted this world as his tomb. At long last, it will bring an end to–

“…please…”

With a start his eyes shot open, his heart beating at an uncontrollable pace. He looked around; there was no way that he heard a girl’s voice. There was nothing here except for the skies, him, and the flowers. The wind swept over the flowers once more, but it was not as gentle or calming as before. It felt more like a gust from a storm, a bad omen.

 “…please…”

He spun around expecting to find nothing, however, there was something there.

A large black door.

The world seemed to become a shade darker. Apprehension took root in his chest. There was no doubt in his mind that the voice was coming from the door. It sounded more insistent – desperate.

Even though every fiber of his being was telling him to run away, he walked toward the door. With every step he took, it seemed as if everything was coming out of focus except for the door.

It was roughly 42 meters high, made of black oak, two silver latches in the shape of wings resided on the middle. Engraved upon its surface was a depiction of a cloaked being with eight large wings upon its back. In the right hand it held a sword; in its left hand a bouquet of flowers that resembled the chrysanthemums around him.

With bated breath he placed his hands on the door’s surface and pushed with all his might, cutting the angelic being in two. As it opened a bright golden light seeped through. The light was warm, welcoming even. In its radiance, his unease melted away replaced by a mixture of hope, happiness, and fulfillment.

A scream shattered the world to pieces.

The ground gave way to a bottomless void with only white chrysanthemum petals accompanying him on his descent. The door started crumbling to dust, but the light was still there.

“…please…don’t leave me alone…” The voice pleaded, coated in so much pain and sadness. He tried reaching out to the light, but he was already too far gone. Knowing he struggled in vain he closed his eyes, losing himself to the darkness.

Until at last there was nothing at all.

Zayne’s eyes shot open, a choked cry escaping his lips. He grabbed the black fabric over his chest attempting to calm down his beating heart.  Just a dream! Just a dream! He thought desperately over and over until at last, his heart started to slow down. It was just a dream…

Still a bit out of breathe he sat up,  taking immediate notice of his surroundings; a small campfire smoldered a bit away, ruins of a long-ago tower now crumbled encircled half of the encampment. Large black Etheroak trees, with their transparent leaves, surrounded him. About a stone’s throw away water from a small pond glistened in the moonlight.

He looked up to the sky finding the Three Sisters – the eldest sister Urdr of Amber, the middle sister Verdandi of Cerulean, and then the younger sister Skuld of Vermillion – in the middle of their eternal dance round the Pure Mother of White, Astraea.

The whole area was covered in a pale blue glow; it would seem that Verdandi was receiving the most favor. The first sign of the winter due to come.

Zayne brought his attention back to his campsite. After taking everything in once more he noticed that something was missing. Heaving a sigh, Zayne called out to the darkness. “Ouroboros, where are you?”

As if responding to his voice the once smoldering flames of the campfire blazed in a brilliant violet glow, casting large threatening shadows all over. With a life of their own, the shadows gathered to form a beast that resembled the shape of a wolf as large as a lion. “You called for me?” The strange creature spoke in whispering tones as if it did not want to disturb the quiet world. Every syllable held a secret power, hinting at an existence far different from anything that resided in this plane of existence. Even though they had shared each other’s company for a long time, he knew little of the creature, however, there was nothing else in this entire excuse for a world that he trusted more.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“About ten hours, Urdr and Skuld completed their rotation around Verdandi not too long ago and as you can see Astraea is already beginning her descent. It will take another four hours before Eos ascends.” That sounded about right, he could already see a slight change appearing in the sky. The sun, Guardian Father of Light, Eos, will awaken soon.

Which made Zayne’s disposition even worse.

“What happened to waking me up before the second waltz?” He rubbed his hand against his forehead in an attempt to remove the drowsiness and sweat that afflicted him. The beast gave no answer. Another sigh escaped him, he had learned long ago that it was pointless to make Ouroboros talk if it did not desire to. “If they catch up, I’ll blame you.”

Zayne stood up then proceeded to pack up the campsite. In one smooth motion, he grabbed hold of the black cloak that had acted as his bed and wrapped it around him. The miserable thing had seen far better days for sure, but now it was a victim of nature and neglect. I should really get another cloak…and new clothes for that matter. He thought with a frown. Black leather, indigo cloth, and pieces of armor adorned him from the neck down. It was not the kind of attire a knight or king would wear, focusing more on mobility then defense. If you looked carefully enough you would be able to see symbols engraved on the fabric, however, whatever their purpose was lost to him. Though he would have been more than happy to change his equipment, something always stopped him. A thought so insignificant, yet effective, changed his mind. This is all I have, from before…

Suppressing the depressing thoughts as best he could, Zayne walked over to the pond, his reflection greeting him on the water’s surface. A young man in his early twenties, warm ivory skin, shoulder-length midnight blue hair with a long wrapped tail of far longer hair that reached past his waist, hollow eyes of different colors - the left a darkened gold, the right a haunting deep violet. Some may say that he was handsome, others, imposing He broke the reflection as he sunk his hands into the water and then proceeded to wash his face.

When he was done, he walked over to the fire. Without hesitation, he stuck his hand within the heart of the violet flames, pulling it back soon after grasped in a fist. What remained of the fire quickly crumbled to ash, but the violet flames continued to blaze through his fingers, not burning him at all.

“Catch.” He tossed the ball of flame to Ouroboros, its mouth wide open to receive it. Within seconds the beast’s appearance quickly changed. No longer was its body a mass of shadow, now it was a creature that had a body made of black liquid crystal. Two blazing violet eyes looked upon him and a violet crystal resided on its forehead like a horn. It was that very same crystal that had made the fire, and that he had given back to Ouroboros.

Zayne wasn’t sure of the specifics, as far as he could surmise the crystal was a vital piece to Ouroboros – possibly its heart or soul – he couldn’t be sure and he doubted his companion would be willing to share such personal information.

Refocusing on the task at hand Zayne grabbed the ashes then proceeded to scatter them all around the campsite, mumbling under his breath words of power as he went – ever aware of Ouroboros observant gaze. “You had that dream again.” It was not a question, simply a statement of fact. Zayne continued scattering the ashes, though he could normally hide his true feeling from others easily enough he could never deceive Ouroboros.

“No…not the same, something different…it disturbs you.”

The silence was all he could give the beast as his answer. He did not want to speak of it, not now at least.

Then after what seemed like an eternity, Zayne completed his grueling task of scattering the ashes. He pulled out a curved dagger from his belt. As slow and as carefully as possible he traced marks on the blade with his middle and index fingers. Then he stabbed the blade into the ground. The instant blade made contact with the earth, a pulse of azure flames burst forth, consuming all the ashes that Zayne had scattered around the campsite.

He sighed.

It was a tedious Artem, but greatly effective. What he had essentially done was erase any and all trace of evidence of him ever being here. Yes, a passerby would be able to tell that someone had made camp here, but as long as they could not place him here he was safe for the time being.

Silence hung in the air, broken by