Fall into Grace

<TITLE>Fall Into Grace</TITLE>

Fall Into Grace

May 30th, 2005

There was something missing, but he couldn't pin it exactly. The blurs of something that must've happened recently were within his mind, but fading quickly. There was a desperate need to grasp for them, a hope, a need, a want...

But he chose not to. He didn't push them away, no. Rather, just watched them go. It didn't matter, maybe. Not anymore.

Standing slowly, he walked forwards, the sounds of his footfalls echoing on the slick, hard cobblestones of the ancient road. He did not know where he was, or where he had been, or even where he was going to. He simply moved, moving to feel the motion, to experience progression; to advance.

Without motion, there was nothing. To be trapped was something worse than non-existence; stasis was the bane, more than death, more than life, and both of the horrors those two options entailed.

Still, empty movement would only sate his urges for a time.

The wind caught up, but he could care less. It wasn't like it was going to affect him at that very moment. His movement seemed to only matter. Looking ahead, he could see no road ahead. He needed no direction, no specific path, nor a destination.

Still, even though he could not see a destination or path, he could sense it; the very tendrils of destiny were pulling him inexorably forward. It was a sensation he could almost taste. He was heading towards, into; something in his blood rejoiced at the notion that soon, very soon, the empty walk would be rewarded with a greater, significant stimulation-- the payoff of new experience, possibly something he had never felt before-- something he could immerse himself within, a context with which to blend, interact, and possibly more.

As such, he was not as surprised as he might otherwise have been when a tollbooth appeared on the horizon, manned by a spectral figure in a black cloak and hood.

Curiousity almost lingered in his mind. Almost. He approached the toll booth.

Here was an interesting anomaly, he thought. A toll booth on a footpath. Somehow, he didn't think the proprietor of the establishment took simple coin.

The toll booth lingered with a permanency that belied the transient feel of the rest of the universe. He moved to the gate with the same purposefulness that had brought him here, turned, and looked expectantly at the gatekeeper, ho stared back silently at him.

"So," the traveller inquired, voice shattering the stillness of the cosmos. "Who are you?"

There was a silence for awhile, the figure remaining silent for perhaps a few moments, "You mean you don't know?"

The traveller wondered if this was some arcane ritual. He felt that he should know the answer to the question, as if the name, the identity of the spirit behind the face which at once seemed young and old, wise and childish, was intimately known to the depths of his being. It was a disquieting sensation that unsettled him profoundly. At a loss in the face of such a conundrum, he considered his options. Sarcasm, indifference, or honesty. Given the feeling in his chest, he opted for the last option.

"No," he replied at length.

The hooded thing made a noise that sounded halfway between an irritated grunt and an amused snort. "If you insist."

It followed this with another sound- breath being drawn into lungs it did not have. "Who am I?" it spoke in a reverent monotone. "I am the Enforcer. I am Cerberus. I am the lock with no key. I am the Immovable Object. I am the Guardian."

The man raised an eyebrow. Quite a description.

"Cerberus, eh," he repeated, allowing the word to play across his tongue.

And I cannot let you pass without a toll," the Guardian said, as though this should have been obvious. "Are you willing to pay?"

"I could always just take another direction, but I'm curious. What's the toll?" He asked, just looking at this guardian.

"And moreover," he continued, pressing a finger to his forehead for a moment, pondering. "What lies beyond this gate?" He smiled slightly, some thoughts bubbling to mind. "I mean," he pointed to the milky, misty void beyond the booth, "would I be going in.... or coming out?" The smile grew.

"Does it matter?" the Guardian replied. "You would be leaving Here and going There. The fee for passage is something precious. Are you willing to pay?"

"Perhaps..." He looked at the guardian, "Define precious."

"Semantics mean nothing to me, Cerberus replied tiredly. "My question still stands."

"Fine then," the traveller snapped a touch testily. "What is the nature of payment you require? I would know before I commit myself."

"The nature..." Frank shook its head in irritance. "You must be willing to give something up to enter There," he explained. "The entry of a whole, complete soul would disturb things that have been in motion since the dawn of their Time. An incomplete soul, by contrast..."

"Would result in...?"

"Questions, Questions!" Frank Cerberus sighed in irritation, slapping his forehead. "You youngsters always wanting everything explained, codified, broken down, made easy and simply digestible by your tiny little minds. Have you no room for faith and mystery?"

"Says the guy standing at a toll booth," he retorted, "who's probably just fine where he is. Look, nowadays, when people start quipping about giving up parts of their souls, you have to expect that some people are going to get a little touchey-pokey about the possibility!"

He paused, deciding to add something, "After all, you're the vague one, here."

"What's a soul?" Cerberus replied dismissively. "Do you even know? Can you feel it, touch it, see it? How do you even know you have one? You just assume it's there. For all you know this is just an elaborate test on my part to judge your sincerity. But assuming you even had one, Would you even miss a piece of it if it was gone?"

"Knowing what I do about souls," the traveller said, scowling, "that depends entirely on what part I decide to give up."

Cerberus merely looked at him, giving no reaction, "Then find a piece that doesn't matter."

"If it doesn't matter," the traveler mused, "why would it be worth anything as payment?"

"You might be surprised who will pay for a fraction of a soul," the Immovable Object responded, the hint of a smile in its voice. "If you're not satisfied, you can always see about recovering it later."

But would it be that simple to just go to recover this portion," A trick up this guardian's sleeve. He was too much of an expert in things of that sort to not be sure.

"Look," Cerberus said flatly. "Pay or don't pay, I don't have all eternity here."

The admonishment, nonsensical as it was, brought him back to the situation at hand. Already he could feel his legs starting to ache from standing in one place too long, and he could sense a part of him that wanted to keep dithering about the toll. But as he looked into the mists, he could suddenly feel a pull- though there was nothing to see, he could sense... motion, therein.

"So do I get to pick what part of me I give up?" he inquired, suddenly keenly interested.

"Because you can't stop asking, no. I'll choose for you," He stated bluntly, "Now are you going in or not?"

He wanted to say no, being paranoid and unsure. Part of his soul was on the line, but at the same time, the call of whatever it was on the other side of the gate clawed at him like a seductive siren's song. Was it just a yearning for the unknown? He didn't know. All he knew is he wanted this, this strange opportunity that had seemingly dropped out of nowhere. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything else in the world. The sheer need was overwhelming his logic, his sense, those things that kept him centered and fixed against the temptations of the world.

Before he even knew what he was doing, his lips had parted, the breath exiting his lungs. "Yes"... he intoned quietly.

"Then go," the Guardian said brusquely, shoving him roughly from behind. Over and through the toll gate- metallic bars, suddenly ephemeral, and into the outer reaches of the void.

Slowly, the traveller recovered his feet at the edge of the mists beyond the gate, and looked back at the Guardian. The tollbooth and its occupant, though, were already fading beyond the edge of his perception- and as they merged with the distant stone walkway, the traveller suddenly and keenly felt a terrible sensation of loss...

He realized that the payment must've happened. Was it his whole soul he was losing? He couldn't feel the ground below him. Looking down, he couldn't even see a ground. He was floating, or flying. Whichever worked. He continued to walk, finding it odd that he could infarct walk.

He journeyed on the path ahead, realizing that the floating feeling had actually been an illusion, a feeling in his whole body. Tipsy and light, off-balance; somehow lacking. He was standing on terra firma, ground which for the first time felt more solid to him than he himself. Weakly, he dropped to one knee for a moment, looking into a puddle of water that had gathered in the middle of the road.

Even to his own eyes, he was... not a pretty thing right now. Whatever Frank had taken, Frank had cauterized the wound just as cleanly as it had removed it- he could feel his chakras reforming, sealing and reknitting themselves into a mutant, if still workable, whole. The numbness was spreading through his system like a brushfire, cleaning and sterilizing and making a new whole.

Then, suddenly, he realized the pull forward had ceased to be so compelling.

He pressed his hands to his temples. Who was he? What was he before? He pressed his hand to the puddle, watching it distort. Like what he was now. Distorted.

Back where he had started. In the fog, confused, dazed, alone. But now he was less. He was hollow, incomplete... an Empty Man.

In vain, he tuned his mind inwards. There had been a song in there, before, a drumbeat forcing him onwards- and if that wasn't there, he could at least strive towards the wondrous call of Adalkama.

The absence of both these urges- and the fact that he no longer understood what Adalkama was on its fundamental level- told him he was suddenly, totally and completely free. Free of everything he had ever been before. Capable of going wherever her wanted and know that all that was left was held back, looking on at the shell of what was once its vessel, and longing for the sense of being one with it again. But now he had a second start. To travel with it, or to go back for what he was. Decisions.

No longer did the nihilistic call grip his soul. Hah! Whatever he had lost, it must have been that part of him that had felt it had reached it zenith, had nowhere to reach but for the sweet embrace of annihilation. He began to move faster now, more ardently, confidently. He did not know if he was entering a realm of gods, of demons, a time of bliss or an Age of Pain. But whatever it was, he would take it as he found it-- for he was free, unbound, and uncaring of such petty things as conscience.

In the end, his birth cry was not a shout of pain, or of fear, or of loneliness- but a maddened passionate laughter the likes of which he had not experienced in a very, very long time.