The Chronicles of Marum - The Primordial

Hypernova - Part III

ACT III (Lésnar)

Tears, like small rivers of pain and regret, trace salty paths down my face, marking the skin with the weight of decision. Each drop that escapes from my eyes is a poignant reminder of the choice I made: leaving my sister, Réslar, to her cruel fate. The gravitational pull of my heart seems to drag me back to her, but every fiber of my being knows that I cannot, must not look back. To turn around would mean facing the overwhelming reality of my action: abandoning my own flesh and blood in a moment of mortal desperation.

The sun, merciless in its journey across the sky, pours relentless rays upon me, as if each one were a burning judgement for my acts. The omnipresent heat becomes a tangible reflection of the conflict burning within me, a constant reminder of Réslar, despite her courage, being alone and vulnerable. My body, exhausted and overheated, cries out for rest, a pause in the emotional and physical storm consuming me.

Amidst the hostile terrain, my weary eyes spot a temporary salvation: a narrow entrance, almost hidden, leading to a hole that promises brief relief. With dragging movements, each step a battle against exhaustion, I drag myself towards this promise of refuge. The entrance to the hole, dark and inviting, is like a portal to another world, one where maybe I can escape, even if momentarily, from the weight of my choices.

The humidity inside the hole envelops me in a cold embrace. The darkness, however, is more than the absence of light; it's a veil that covers my thoughts, a heavy curtain separating reality from the illusion of peace.

In this damp and shadowy refuge, I allow myself to collapse, my body hitting the ground with tired resignation. The cold, damp earth beneath me is an improvised, but welcome, bed. As I curl up, hugging my knees to my chest in a gesture of self-protection, the emotions I struggle to contain begin to emerge. Loneliness, fear, sadness: all manifest in a rain that threatens to drown me.

Each breath is heavy with the weight of what I've done, and what I still need to do. In the darkness of that hole, I am both the hunter and the hunted, chasing redemption and fleeing from the ghosts of my recent past. Here, in the solitude of this darkness, I must find the strength to continue, to face what comes next.

Wrapped in the quietude of the damp hideaway, the urgency of a crucial mission permeates my thoughts. - I need to warn the others - I murmur to myself, my hands, trembling, rummaging through the bag in search of materials for an improvised means of communication. I find a sturdy stake and some sand grains, and begin composing a message.

The stake, now transformed into a support for my missive, is carefully positioned in front of me. Each grain of sand I place on it molding a critical letter to Theos. "Theos, your suspicions were right," I write, the sand adhering to the stake as if understanding the gravity of the message. "Máterum plans an attack against us," I continue, my writing becoming increasingly hurried as I write.

"Some unknown beings will soon attack Zaranler," I add, feeling a shiver of fear at the thought of the creatures and the threat they represent. "Our positions have been compromised; therefore, information is scarce, but I promise to send more as soon as possible." I write.

The letter, now nearly complete, is a testament to our vulnerability. "When this message reaches you, it is likely that both Réslar and I will be in Máterum's hands." I admit. "But I implore you, do not stop for us." I plead with invisible ink, "Prioritize the safety of Zilevo and the others. And please, be cautious!"

The letter ends with an observation that haunts me: "I suspect that the unknown beings may be the missing planets. Máterum must have transformed them into living entities while we were in Salacrum."

With the letter complete, I carefully untie my long hair, cutting a strand to tie the message to the stake. The red leaves from the bag are used to seal the letter.