The World Maker Parable by Luke Tarzian

The World Maker Parable by Luke Tarzian

Author:Luke Tarzian
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: LukeTarzian.com
Published: 2020-04-14T04:00:00+00:00


This will be the second worst thing you learn of yourself.

You walk the streets of Banerowos with intent born of desire. You tell yourself you are doing this thing because you wish only to nurture harthe to greatness, whatever that may be; that is not yet known to you. You tell yourself you do this thing because only you and you alone know how to save this infinitesimal world. You are an architect. You were born for this—it is in your very blood.

The night is cold and your blood runs hot with anticipation. You tell yourself you were sent here for a reason. Alerion, Mirkvahíl, and Luminíl…they require guidance, they require molding. They must see things as you do lest they destroy this orb they call their home, their creation. Things have gone well enough but there is always room for error. if only they could see…

"The right thing is often times the hardest," you whisper to yourself. You urge yourself to believe it, though deep in the bowels of your existence, in that nook in which some semblance of your conscience still remains, you know that this is wrong. Why else would it be so difficult?

You come to the lake you so often times find yourself staring into. It is beautiful as always. It makes you think of home, of Indris in a way. So many stars collecting in that placid surface, so many possibilities.

"Varésh. well met," Alerion greets. He stands before the lake, hands clasped behind his back. His eyelids are heavy and he wears a soft smile; he has had a good day. "How are you this evening? What brings you here?"

"Well," you reply, mimicking his posture. "Just…admiring the lake as I am wont to do."

"She is a sight," Alerion says. His storm-gray eyes shine bright without the aid of light and his shoulder-length raven hair is pulled back behind his ears. His wings hang limply from his back, touching the grass beneath his feet. How beautiful they are. How beautiful a thing Alerion is.

"Harthe has come a way these years," you say. It is true. There has been great progress where the evolution of harmony is concerned. Banerowos is a jewel. Jémoon is…something you cannot put words to. But you love it dearly. "Still, I find myself fearful, wary. I dread the tipping of the scale."

"It is a necessary thing," Alerion says. "Without destruction there can be no evolution."

"Easy for you to say." You sigh. You feel a tickle in your throat. "You are balance made manifest. That all makes sense to you. I just…" You have seen so much destruction. You have seen worlds annihilated, you have seen people slaughtered, and for what? A witness to chaos without the power to prevent it. "I cannot let that be. It is possible to evolve without destroying what we have built. Preservation is always an option."

Your radich burns inside of you. Burns so hot it makes you cold. It hurts like nothing you have ever known, But it is a price you must pay.



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