Awakening of the Shadows [COMPLETE]

Hive

Like I said, I spent the following hours in that state - not asleep, but not awake, either. I was about as conscious of my surroundings as a rock, and more consumed by my own thoughts than one of the Contemplatives of Pathfinder. I lay crushed between dreaming and wakefulness, unable to escape the vortex of my own sadness and self-pity.

I knew this wasn't healthy. No Human could reside in this level of emotional emptiness for long without serious consequences. But I couldn't claw my way out of the pit; couldn't find my way out of the dark. I was stuck in a fog-consumed swamp without a lantern to light my path home. More and more one word, one adjective that I knew described me, more than perhaps anyone else, echoed within the dark recesses of my brain:

Worthless.

For a second, back in the Paradise Vault, when I'd stopped a body-wide apoptosis from occurring, I had for a second believed that I could be the Nova - believed that I could be the host of the Light. Believed that I could be the voice of Nova, the Primordial Goddess of Light.

I had never been more wrong in my life. I was nothing comparable to anyone I'd met in the Multiverse - every person I'd met; talked to, at least; was better than me in some way. Nocta was more resilient to teasing, Eternity was kinder and... well, better in all ways, Alaspakta was funnier and more devoted, Seraph was better with weapons, Antares was a better leader... the list went on and on.

A sliver of Alaspakta's presence panged in the back of my mind, and for the first time in three hours, I moved in a major way, rolling over onto my side. She didn't say anything - which I would have thought impossible - and was instead simply there. I wondered if that meant something. More than likely, it did. The sword was cynical, sarcastic, absurdist, but no matter how one cut it, she was absolutely devoted to the Light, to the Prophecy. Her faith in the Primordial spirit who'd made her transcended that of any Human belief I had ever known. And she would let one know that, in deeper, more genuine tones than one would ever think possible given her sarcastic nature.

I wished I could have the same conviction. But I couldn't - not when I'd failed so many times.

But then, when I found myself thinking along those lines, a more rational part of my mind spoke up, in a voice suspiciously similar to Eternity's - possibly because in the last few days, she'd been the only reason I hadn't gone completely insane. She grounded me. This tiny voice reminded me that I'd saved Eternity from the lightning of an absolute serial killer of an Electromancer. It reminded me that I'd charged, armed with nothing but a five-inch knife, a pistol, and a glowing, talking sword, into a clearing where an eighty-foot-long Hydra awaited. It reminded me that I had taken part in a fight with a Leviathan, and that I'd kept myself alive through sheer willpower.

That incomprehensibly small voice was like a tiny spark; an ember of hope that blazed only when I needed it most. And to me it said Correct me if I'm wrong, but every fire that has ever existed anywhere started with a single spark. So take that spark. Hold it close. And let it burn.

The words were comforting. Creating a sense of hope in me - one strong enough to break through the monotonous torpor of my mind, the stupor I was stuck in like a fly in a spider's web, freeing me. I awakened from the place between dreams and reality, and my eyes opened again. Of course, sadness; self-doubt; still plagued my mind. But now, for the first time in what felt like years, I had a few shreds of hope once more. And so my eyes opened, opened truly. And when they did, I heard the voice of Arcturus Skylight at my door.

"Elder, Antares just contacted us. We're leaving in thirty minutes. Are you still with us?"