Dardonas
« Reply #3 on: January 10, 2022, 10:35:08 AM »
I understand now there is no copy and no original. We are two halves, one in the same. I have come to terms with a simple truth: this is not the real world. I live in a shadow of existence, an illusion. The brain creatures of Bluetspur, the squid-people, eyestalked creatures guarding gateways, a one-eyed beast so alien that it has called into question everything I believe.
Then the bombing... People. Pieces of people in the rubble. People I knew. Faces so bruised and torn apart they could not be recognized. At first they did not believe me when I warned them of an attack. I fear they thought I was insane. Basile Corbeau certainly did not believe me when I told him I killed Hazlik to escape that wretched place. The bombing could have been avoided; the Gendarmerie could have increased security. But could haves do not change what has happened. Lies and illusions I made myself believe. But the truth of it? It has pulled back the veil and now I see clearly.
Death, the macabre, the grotesque, the morose pull to stare at the forlorn and alien parts of the world most pretend is hidden has overtaken me and I fear I will never be the same. The things I have seen cannot be unseen. And I have been placed at an impasse: do I join the illusion or do I use it? I am, after all, an illusionist...
With the Rod of Rastinon, I can fix myself. I can be whole again.
I can stop the other Cornelius. And afterwards...
« Last Edit: January 10, 2022, 10:42:13 AM by Dardonas »
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