Priya Echo's Adventure - Part 20

CHAPTER 58 - HOPE

Location: Wonderstruck Synthesis and Earth Matryoshka
Date: Before The Rikiral War

Participants filed listlessly into a basic council chamber for a routine matter. Awaiting them was a long oval table of dark blue, and stout chairs carved of the same stone core. In the heart of Wonderstruck Synthesis, they were safe from prying eyes. Among the cohort were the designated ministers of the Voices of Reason and their leader Telenon. How the most purposeful of them became head was a twist of fate. An astute yet ill-tempered man, he sat at the front of the table. The others bowed to him, knowing with full awareness the scope of his abilities. Its transformations flawless, its essence precious. Below the gates of Wonderstruck the outer space of various matryoshka rumbled with potent, newborn stars. A crisp energy hovered about him, ready for the day’s work. “Are we ready to decide on the trials?” he questioned. The others nodded in agreement. For the majority of them it was a pleasant start. Yet all of a sudden, a sullied renegade trod in. He was voiceless as he stood and took a stance at the other end of the table. Telenon grit his teeth. He should be in a dungeon. A dungeon with a million dragons. “Do we have the honor of hearing from Dramatic?” he offered delicately. The old gray beard stepped closer. A breeze ruffled his robe, “Indeed we do … brothers and sisters. Just recently I have returned from an interesting survey of the earth matryoshka. The world turns and the people are in good spirits. I walked the cities. I felt the air on my face. But as I did the future fell into my sight. They are coming my friends, the citizens of another Elementum. The Rikiral. Fast through space in their tireless ships. Soldiers of a planet one hundred times the scale of earth. And they will find our people. Astounded by each other, the meeting will be harmonious. Due to this, human and rikiral will interbreed and their imagination will become more powerful. A salience beyond anything. Free, pure thought. The focal element in its true realization”. “Enough Dramatic!” Telenon barked, “The masses know I am the greatest warrior of imagination. My fist is the hardest. It turns everything to embers”. Dramatic did not flinch. He scanned the audience and cleared his throat for rhetoric, “Voices of Reason, hear me, even as we speak an ordinary human born today has an innate ability greater than all of us, and as time passes our children will surpass us”. A buoyant laughter circled around the room. Ministers looked to their neighbors in mirth. “Clever sport old man. Did you come here to challenge me?” Telenon dared, rising from his seat. He scowled, thinking the others' speech was null and void. From there they all arose and went to the adjacent room, where an arena jutted from the ground. There, Voices clash by manifesting a display of imagination in turn, each stronger than the other, until one is of greatest energy. Ministers spread out, greedy for the sparring to begin. They had their favorite, and in thoughtless passion they had already guessed the winner. Telenon gracefully lifted his arms and sailed his hands through the air. Along his fingertips trailed a fine delicate powder of pulverized magic. Effortlessly he brought into the foreground a vision of fire and of blazing monsters firing cannonballs from their backs. Raptured, the crowd patted each other on the back. But Dramatic was not impressed. He had seen his friend’s work before. He had seen him fashion the Spheres of Zest. He had seen him cause the Machiavellian Eagle to burrow into the sands of Loyasa. He had seen him halt the Vessel of a Thousand Leagues from its transit through Multi Proxima, although its thrusters were the size of mountains and the turrets were plasma cannons. This was a meager display and he wouldn’t recoil in the way a lesser man would. Dramatic took a deep breath. Now it was his turn. Rhetoric had failed so he would need to deliver something else. Something that would open their eyes. Telenon crossed his arms in contempt. What an ill-mannered brat. So, the old man channeled all his enigmatic force into a single hand. A glint in his eye alighted. The robes upon his person danced with ripples. And he reached into the future, where there was the first man to find love with a rikiral woman, and reached into his spirit. Mahandran Echo gasped. “This is it '' Dramatic knew. The ministers waited for the display, and they were not expecting such a push all the way back to the wall from light itself. Mahandran felt his hope for the future fly into the air, departing his body. The quickness of time arrowed through the room. Atop the platform a world appeared, the future as the couple sought. It was earth, lit with bright cities of human and rikiral alike. “THIS IS THE FUTURE !!!” Dramatic burst, his voice deep like the ancient voids of space. Energy left the minister’s clothes in shreds. The brightness of the hope-earth paralyzed Telenon for the first time ever. He had never felt this way. The trembling fear. In seconds the thing dispersed and they were alone. For the room, what had been witnessed could never be unwitnessed. A defiance against those that had whispered into the cosmic trees. And him who was their chieftain. Not a single domain had ventured to oppose them and lived. Telenon regained his senses once the image was gone, “You were once my best warrior, my best friend” he cried, “You want to help the humans … then become one!!!”. The chieftain rushed to Dramatic and grabbed him by the robe on his chest, thrusting him forward. Crashing through stone, they plummeted onwards through Wonderstruck back to the land of stars. Dramatic peered behind him. Like a downed spaceship, they were headed for a crash landing on some lush forgotten world. Telenon roared as fierce rage shriveled his countenance. As that happened the mighty wizard bashed the other through the world like a wall, and onto the second world in the solar system, and the third. The triplets exploded in kind. They had been barriers. Meaningless. Dramatics’ eyes flared like newly minted silver coins. He punched his aggressor back. The chieftain craned his neck. The old man had grown to fifty times his size, his robe billowing with the chill of space. He stared down with silver that had become flame, its tail flicking into the unknown. Yet Telenon knew he dwarfed the other. He stood still, waiting for instinct to dawn and make him a warrior … then silence. Dramatic was surprised. He kept his eyes on the man to see what it was. Magnificent continents whirled past into the depths of space, their tips glowing like toy infernos. Planes of gravity shifted out of their regular order. Its effect swept through neighboring systems, sending strange orbs to new quarters. Without fellowship, the star became a relic. Then it happened. Swiftly, unexpectedly. Wet tears made a mad descent down the man’s face. It was a quirk the old man did not anticipate. Telenon pointed with his right, outstretched arm, “I will give you one mercy, go to the humans, never return”. The sorrow pounded deep in his chest. Rich like drum beats. As Dramatic saw the chieftain his eyes returned to normal. His size decreased, “I will go, but I will find a champion, and they will reclaim the stars”. In gusto he turned, his robe flapping in kind. In moments he would escape in faultless acceleration through the aether. His feet would be on earth. His bare soles on mild grass. No … he stopped. That was not enough. With eyes no longer engulfed in metallic flame he looked back at the man who was his friend, who was his comrade, who was his leader, “I enjoyed that day in the park”. And they would part ways. Days later everything was set in motion.

Location: Planet of the Voices of Reason
Date: Present Time

It was an awful memory and Telenon descended his throne. Like his compatriot, he had feet with bare soles. It was a long flat, featureless place. In that manner he approached the chamber of the Maelstrom Allegiance. It crackled with energy. A tornado of enterprising wind, its funnel swirling up into ecstasy. At intervals along its length were rings with ghosts of the ministers chanting their endless assertions, giving it strength. His toes pardoned from walking. His soles relieved of painful labors. Letting go he let the draft uplift him. Passage through the heights filled the man’s body with beautiful calm. Alleviation in the realest sense. A kindness wrought in the focus of his being. He scaled upwards. Unceasing, as the rings of ministers chanted. Their hibernations would continue for many cycles, beyond the current strife. Priya Echo. Why did she have to be such a know it all? That long jet-black hair … When the man found the right distance he activated the spell, and the cyclone reacted, forging a space blueprinted of imagination. Telenon found himself on warm meadows. A fine planet. Strong, effeminate trees. Clouds that would make a geisha blush. Telenon continued on his way. There were trees at intervals. Their hapless leaves discarded at the rush of a northern breeze. Fickle animals reclined on grass to doze away the endless days. Telenon stopped and admired a charming horizon that stretched for miles. From the fountainhead of one cloud a rainbow poured. It drifted to the ground, making a full arc. Telenon closed his eyes, picturing the adversary and her tactics. The way she shattered that mirror and forged the mirror sword. The swing of the blade. Its glimmering action. “Priya Echo, do you think you’re the only one with mirror powers” he called. With the wave of his hand the ground split and from it a gigantic mirror rose, climbing to the sky. Now the portion of the landscape was doubled, including the rainbow. Like a narcissist studying his looks, his eyes considered the handsome bridge. “Let me envisage my very own Priya Echo and put her in shackles!” he laughed. Telenon tried as hard as he could. Sweat from the endeavor lapped down his resilient body. Drawing substance from the world, an eddy of a portal formed ahead of him. Expectations rose. Beyond it, the complexion of the forest shifted. Adorning the portal, a shameless blue of rippling force twirled. Then the model stepped through to greet him. Its foot with high heels snapping the first blades of grass. “Bonjour. Would you prefer a gelato” offered a woman. A beret tilted on her head. Any hooligan with a decent globe knew that France was several nautical miles from India, “Is that like Priya?” he thought. Telenon was dumbfounded and just stood there for a moment, wondering why he couldn’t get it right. To add to his disdain, the model started swinging around in some kind of skirt. It got in close and looked him up and down, smirking with a dry smile. Telenon dispatched the first one and tried again. He tried a few more times but with no luck sent them back from whence they came. It was all useless. “I can envisage anything, why can’t I envisage her completely” he lamented.

So, he fled the scene, pivoting up to a corridor fraught with chaos. Dashing, his flight followed a coiled path. Along walls whose motion was a blur. And stealthy, predatory winds that cycled about him. “All hail the maelstrom allegiance” rising from the depths. From his head adrenaline kicked in and a new world presented itself. Its skies angry. Its clouds brimming with lightning. All at once from every angle the world was destroyed by strikes on its surface, turning to rubble. Telenon soared through the disarray to find a temple the proportions of a space station. It had very long columns. But the chase was on, as the clouds that had assailed the planet pursued him, lasering their lightning strikes at his heels. The chieftain swerved and missed them every time, their bolts crashing into pillars, snapping them. “Persistent are we” he confessed, gritting his teeth. Although they could not get him, their maneuverability was unimpeachable, trailing him through various rooms. Blue stings of their lightning crashing into anything that moved. The words “Not good enough!”, like a true emotion expelled from Telenon’s throat. He escaped the threshold, skyward to a new earth, and seeing a chasm on its surface become a key to unlock it. Telenon turned, unlocking geological locking mechanisms that drifted away, higher than the mountains. In the vault a light emerged so painful as to warrant both hands outstretched for shelter. Rays like spears with a vendetta. Then it was subsided and incorporated into three objects – a tiny sun, earth and moon. His body shuddered from the sight of it. A moment lingered as he waited for its answer. After the rampage of the clouds … this vault and its treasures. The three bounced carelessly, until the selfish earth absorbed the sun and moon. Fire truck red ignited on its continents, along with white lunar seas. Alarming fires sprouted from its geometry. “So, this is it,” thought Telenon. The solar system earth turned to meet its aggressor. It fired a column of flame right at him. Telenon knew he could not give. He made his chest stiff for the blow. At once the column came, its four corners lapping around him like so much insubstantial crimson. Defiance welled in him, “I WILL HAVE YOU!!!”. He stood resolute and the planet took its chance. The column of flame became a waterfall. The orb expanded in all directions, embellished itself with grandiose size. Now the climb became more punishing, enfolding him in abstract flame. The heat intensified, fresh with landforms hotter than the sun. Even so, the man was already thinking one step ahead. “I must become ice to combat the solar earth, '' he whispered. Still, the column extended. The waterfall dropped more of its lifeblood onto him. Yet the arc of his passage was unconsumed, shining through the veil. It was the only move. There would be no negotiation with the inferno. As he reached the limits of the continent his body turned to sculpture. Solid Ice. A flash voyaged from his eyes, blinding everything it came across, extinguishing what was red. He closed his eyes. The insult of the spell was agonizing pain. His chest heaved, invalidating the pressure as it softened. Telenon looked out onto the terrain. An aura thick like tar rose up from the earth. Smoke meandered ceremoniously to the sky. Through his fingers. Around him armies of the inferno with their key swords fell to the ground. They had been ready to fight till the ends of time. Now they would find the ground and sleep in beds of ash. Still his eyes shined, and his body of ice glistened. Mechanisms of many locks unlatched in strange motions inside his spirit body. Tingling and twisting. Adorable rhapsodies. He eagerly smiled.

Chapter end