The Vision

In the mystical land of Orphan, Deagan Rehlich, a young Seer in the care of the Holy Nadean priesthood, is given a powerful reverie like none other, and what he sees will not only change his own destiny, but that of the entire world.

The vision hit him like a charging rhinoceros. It came on hard, and strong enough to knock the boy off of his feet, and the fragile skin on his forehead broke against the cold stone floor of the convent. In all his fourteen years, Deagan had never seen the sky before and so, for a second, the young Seer almost had no idea what exactly he was looking at. But when the blue and white had finally formed in his mind’s eye in a swirling sea of celestial light, he knew exactly what it was. It was the first time he had seen anything in almost a decade, and the brilliant pastel colors were quite simply the greatest gift he had ever received from the Five.

The heavens were clearer than he’d ever imagined. Life on Nadea wasn’t exactly pleasurable, even for one so young, and the small isle seemed constantly drenched in torrential turmoil. He’d always imagined that a lifeless, grey shroud of cloud had covered the entire world, but no, this was sheer proof that there was life on the outside. He picked up his head and extended his arm, reaching out to touch the azure painting, but he knew that what lay before him was simply too good to be true, and his fingers grasped at the empty air around nothing. Suddenly, the ground that held constant beneath his tangible form faded away into a cerulean abyss, and he began to plummet from the beautiful stratosphere toward the earth’s surface.

As the verdant greenery of a lush plain came into view from below, Deagan’s heart began to pound as the combined forces of wind and gravity stormed around him, pressing his chest inward and causing the blood in his veins to seep toward his head. The feeling in his arms and legs were gone, yet it was the first time he had actually seen them. In spite of the fear that had erupted inside of him, he was still shocked at how large his hands actually were, and for an instant had forgotten that he was falling through space.

The distraction was short-lived as the grass came closer with every passing second, and the clouds which had filled his lungs but mere moments beforehand had now become tiny specks in the universe above his corneas. His eyes squinted shut as he neared the surface, and he could feel the very hand of Death caressing his face with a surprisingly soft and oddly gentle grace that tickled his nose and he sneezed his eyes open.

The rushing air had immediately become still as a warm breeze floated through his hair, and he realized that his downward plunge had abruptly ceased. As his lids flashed open, he discovered that it was not Death playfully fingering his skin, but a fine blade of grass that was now staring him down, waiting for him to fall the final three inches as he hovered, suspended above ground level.

 

The End

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