Chapter 1: Living Memories
I open my eyes in a panic; I’m scared awake from a nightmare I’ve already forgotten. My memories of who I am flood back into me: I’m a captain, this is my battered ship, and I’m going to die along with what remains of my crew. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve awoken from a nightmare or simply stumbled into one.
I pray to a God I’m no longer sure is there, “Please Father help me, please, please let there be a way to save me and my crew. There has to be something I can do, anything to save us from the suffering that will soon befall us.”
A still silence falls over me. I strain my ears to hear something, anything. The still air is filled by the low murmur of the ship’s ventilation; there is no answer. As I close my eyes in resignation, a voice like embers whispered in my head: “There is something to be done, power to be had. Forsake salvation and deny thy God, deny thy suffering He has laid before you. Stray from the light and shroud your sins in black.”
The Voice fades into silence as soon as I open my eyes. I scan the room for the source of the ashen voice, but I’m all alone in my captain’s quarters. An echo from my forgotten dream? A remnant of my lingering fear? Whatever it was, it is better forgotten all together.
I turn to look out the small window and gaze upon the vastness of space. It’s the only thing that still brings me peace despite these past two months adrift. It provides a much needed distraction. Rock, ice and hell fire blend into a magnificent array of colors the size of stars and galaxies. Each pillar of gas a masterful brushstroke, each distant galaxy a womb of light, every star radiates a violent warmth. The elementals twist and dance with one another in a cosmic ballet. I hear music conjured from the back of my eyes, a hauntingly beautiful song that beckons me and pushes me to keep going. I hear an ached pain as my eyes remained transfixed upon the star-studded void; it was my own throat as I choked back my cries. Two months have passed, and one remains before we fall into oblivion.