0. Event Horizon

Alabaster's Legend: Premonition Children

Prologue: Event Horizon

Adam walked upon ground ashen black and vitric, staring ahead to the hollow burrowed deep into the desolation before him. Crowned with the alloyed skeletons of buildings, twisted and torrefied, no one had dared enter the hollow since the final battle, for it was sacrosanct, the terminal arena of Gods and Demons, yet Adam continued to walk. He wore the raiment of his forebear; it felt heavy upon his skin. The mask was stifling, necessary for the blessing, bittersweet in its wonder. The decision to make this pilgrimage had been long in the making, but it was one he had not made alone. He felt the hearts of those who loved him close at hand; driving him, grieving him, for this was a journey from which he could not return. They told him there was no knowing what She wanted from him, for She was unknowable, but Adam had a feeling, a premonition. They told him She had not allowed the spawn of her greatest warrior to flourish for no reason. If the Legend had taught him anything, it was that everything had a purpose, each fragment of existence the warp and weft of Creation’s thaumaturgic weave, and Creation was unfeeling.

As Adam neared the hollow, he began to hear Her, Her whispers. He had heard them all his life, but only now did they seem to send the very particles of Creation aflutter. The ground, which had been dead for miles, began to move to Her whim. Wherever Adam stepped, the earth rippled out from his feet, viscous with life. Drawing closer, Adam saw that the crest of the hollow was not solid, as he had thought, but a wall of aerated soil, circling about the hollow as a wall of dust, working itself through the crumpled metal framework of the structure that had once stood here years before. Whatever was within the hollow, She clearly desired it to be for Her eyes only.

With the way ahead blocked to him, Adam simply knelt before the hollow. If She wanted to speak with him, he needed only to wait.

‘You have inherited the wisdom of your father, I see.’

Adam gasped and fell forwards, clutching a hand to his chest. Her voice had buckled him like a hammer upon molten iron.

‘But, not yet his strength, it seems. Fear not. There is time.’

Adam looked up as a light from inside the hollow parted the dust wall blocking his path. He held his hand up to shield his eyes. The brightness was blinding.

‘Come, Adam, enter. Allow us to commune in sanctuary.’

Coughing, Adam struggled to his feet. Since the opening of the dust wall, the force that had slammed into his heart now pulled at his back, as if his body could not venture near that light.

‘Am I dying?’ he asked, as he staggered towards the light, his breath feeling weak underneath the metal mask he wore.

‘Flesh can rot, bones can break; only energy transcends.’

‘Transcends?’

‘You’re body is the vessel, your soul the passenger. Come, Adam. You are not the first to take this path.’

Adam groaned, falling to his knees once more. The weight resonating from the light was crushing. He resorted to crawling, clawing at the ground with his fingers.

‘Why do you punish me so?’ Adam cried out, feeling his spine creak.

‘It is not I that punishes you, but Time. You are leaving too early. The plane of the physical calls you back. Fight it, Adam. Only you can help me.’

Adam collapsed, the stress upon his joints at breaking point. He looked back in anguish towards the sun sinking in the West, the direction of home. ‘In order to serve you, I need to die?’ he asked.

‘I have no need for mortals.’

Taking the gun holstered at his side, Adam removed his mask. ‘So be it.’