There was a time when your mind was serene, before being bombarded by incessant white noise.

Remember?

There was a time when you connected with people online, before closing Facebook just to open it right back up again for hours.

Remember?

There was a time when you smiled with all your teeth, before you used them to hide the hatred on your tongue.

Remember?

There was a time when ambition burned in your veins, before bitterness and apathy turned them to ice.

Remember?

There was a time when your heart loved fiercely, before it cowered in the corner from the abuse.

Remember?

There was a time you lent strength to others, before the weight of your own disease made your knees buckle.

Remember?

Have you forgotten?

Or is the man writing these words a stranger now?

Absence.

No matter the direction we turn, all that meets our gaze is the endless void.

We knew companionship once, but we have helplessly watched them rot like a derelict vessel, abandoned by its ship hands.

Even the Solitude and Spectre have departed.

Alone do we wander the absence endlessly, our pendulum shackled to our heart with a weight so mighty it bores our very feet into the ground.

We once caught a glimpse of hope; a silhouette crossing our path.

But she did not return our gaze, only continued to walk on, unheeded.

She was merely an invention of our heart, colored by the longing in our mind.

We were foolish to believe.

Yet we cannot help but yearn for one who would walk alongside us, to provide some solace in this absence.

One who can provide warmth in the cold abyss that surrounds us.

Absence.

No matter the direction that we turn, all that meets our gaze is the endless void.

And I'm so very cold.

There is a weight that is chained to our fractured heart.

It is filled by our worst failures and emptied by our greatest triumphs.

We wish nothing more than to be rid of this cursed pendulum, that swings to and fro as it deepens the fissures in our heart to reach our very soul.

All around us we see those whose hearts are joined with a kindred, like the morning rays in the night sky.

And the pendulum continues to swing.

We see their faces smiling, as their hearts beat in perfect harmony, a symphony of resonance with complexity and depth.

All the while our heart exudes a lonely note, sharp and unanswered.

And the pendulum continues to swing.

Our efforts to remove it have been in vain.

Our triumphs are few, and our defeats plenty, and with it, its burden grows.

And the pendulum continues to swing.

They say there is a stone that tethers the heart.

A stone that calms the mind, even in the most horrendous of storms.

A serenity stone.

We have spent centuries searching for this stone.

We have written letters of hope, expecting word on its whereabouts.

We have chased after those who appeared to be the stone, but they only proved to be jagged daggers of glass, white-hot and coated in venom.

They break at the slightest touch.

Yet they say there is a stone, one that is unshakeable, immovable.

A serenity stone.

We are in dire need of this stone, but with each passing day, we believe that these tales are mere fantasy.

Where we believe there to be hope, we find only torment.

Where we believe there to be solace, we find only cold abandonment.

As time marches forth, we are surrounded by those who have found their stone, and our mind grows darker, and hope withers away.

They say there is a stone, one that will not abandon you.

A serenity stone.

But we cannot find her, and we are slipping into madness.

We have gone against the counsel of the Spectre.

It warned us of the dangers of succumbing to temptation.

But we did not heed its words.

She came to us, eyes filled with tears, reciting words we thought we would never hear again.

How could we refuse her?

She, who held our future in her emerald eyes?

She, who banished the Solitude that plagued us so?

She, who stole our heart before we knew it was missing?

How could we refuse her?

Yet it was those same emerald eyes that we saw when she departed once more towards the same arms as before.

And we wanted to engrave our anger with crimson ink.

We screamed at the Spectre, demanding vindiction.

And the Spectre listened.

We spat and cursed at it, our tongue spilling rage like a torrential downpour.

And the Spectre spoke.

I am the warden of your lucidity. I am not your enemy. It is you who deviated from my guidance.

Through gritted teeth, we ask why we are tormented so?

The Spectre's response was simple:

For you continue to dance with the devil, then wonder why you burn.

What have I done?

A calamity has befallen me.

My heart lies impaled by a blade of my own design, beating in agony.

Across from me I see her, huddled over the blade, her hands crimson from its edge.

Her tears descend upon my heart like broken stars, burning into the flesh, down to its very core.

What have I done?

Amid her shrieks of pain, I speak words of remorse.

Amid her words of sorrow, I try to mend what has been broken.

But I have exhausted myself. I haven't the strength to lift my heart off of the blade.

In the midst of my struggle, I see a figure, one who I believe at first to be the Solitude, come to torment me with my failures.

But it does not speak.

Where the Solitude mocks me, the figure remains silent.

Where the Solitude glares harshly into my soul, the figure merely gazes.

It does not show its face, but it breeds a sense of familiarity.

A Spectre, in my own image.

With ease, it lifts my heart from the blade, but with its touch, the heart turns black.

It is devoid of any other hue, engulfing the cracks and scars that plagued its surface, it is unified by darkness.

It is beyond recognition.

The Spectre extends the beating void to me, in silent offering.

But I refuse.

I shall not allow myself to succumb to the cold absence it will bring.

I would rather endure, if only barely.

Yet, as I turn away, I see her. The one who once held my affection.

The one who tore down my fortress. The one who showed my future in her eyes. The one who left laughter and serenity in her wake.

With another.

Turning back, I take the creation of the Spectre, without hesitation.

As it takes its place, I hear the echoes of all the tender words she once spoke to me, yet they carry a harsh timbre.

I feel the fire of passion I once carried, yet it creates only ice.

I see the memories once cherished, but they have become pale and morbid.

"What is this feeling?" I ask the Spectre.

I cannot see its lips, but I know it smiles at the inquiry, before uttering a single word:

Hate.

Our words were once kind, but they have since been laced with venom.

Our heart was once warm, but it now only burns from the ice it pumps through our veins.

Our pen once wrote praises, but now only blood spills upon the page.

Our smile was once gentle, but we have filed our teeth to fangs with our failures.

Our soul once knew love.

But it was only pretend.

Our resolve was once mighty, but it has been broken by shattering defeats, poisoned by false loyalties.

We wish to speak, but even our words have abandoned us, just as lovers past.

We wish to scream, but we will only be answered by the echoes of our fortress.

We wish to write, but cannot bear the pain to lift the pen.

We wish to have her.

But she has ran to the arms of another.

She once gave us serenity, but now only provides torment.

She once illuminated the skies above, but now we only cower in darkness.

She once held our heart, but now our hands bleed as we hold the jagged pieces together.

We were once hopeful to find solace in companionship.

*What a fool I am.

You made us bleed.*

Bleed from a place deep within us. Where it does not appear as a light red, or even crimson.

But a dark scarlet.

Darker than the void you so carelessly cast us in.

You left us with nothing but the company of the Solitude, who recites our failures to us with each nightfall like songs of victory.

Our only food was the shattered promises that you left behind with your departure, as they shred our tongue which spoke only words of affection and adoration to you.

Our only drink was the burning passion we once used to keep you warm during your cold isolation, which has now festered and rotted, tasting only of boiling venom now.

Yet despite this diet of agony and woe, we cannot help but love you.

But you do not reciprocate these feelings which we hold, you merely mocked them by filling our ears with fantasies and false assurances.

So we have grown tentative.

We have forged a fortress from the flesh of the fetid Solitude, to safeguard that which you have left in fine fragments.

From its bones we have constructed monolithic walls and barriers.

From its soul we have crafted chains and blades, to stave off those who would seek to destroy what is left of it.

We have assured ourselves that none shall have safe passage within, unless we so willed.

And yet when you return after months of silence with nothing more than your beautiful sapphire eyes, and your lips curled into a gentle smile, you have shaken the very foundation of our fortress.

Even the sight of your very name causes the whispers of the Solitude to echo in its halls.

We do not know what has brought you back to our tormented path, but know that it will not be as welcoming as it once was.

There will not be any words of gentleness or amour as before, but rather a single, bitter phrase.

*En garde.

The Destroyer of Pleasures.

What shall we say when it delivers us to the Perfection?

When we are handed our book, filled with our sins and favors, what testament will we have to give for our actions?

When the final grain of soil is cast upon our grave, what will we have left behind besides the broken hearts of those dearest to us?

Will we be able to stand proud before the Perfection, or will we be brought to our knees under the weight of our transgressions?

When the hour of reckoning is at hand, will our face be lit with tranquility, or shall it be twisted in grief?

We are unsure.

When the scales are brought forth to measure our deeds, will it be our wickedness or our righteousness that will crack the earth with its weight?

When the Perfection gazes into our soul, will it be illuminated with his smile, or destroyed by his wrath?

Who will be there to read the Chapter for us when we cannot read it for ourselves?

We are unsure.

Will we have earned the intervention from the one whose example we strive to follow?

When our tongue recites every lie we have spoken before the Perfection, what will we say to justify them?

When our eyes give testament to the tragedies they have witnessed as a result of our own actions, what veil can we call upon to cover our shame?

When our heart sheds tears for the suffering and grief we have caused it for the sake of companionship, who will come to our side to show the fruit of our efforts?

We are unsure.

With each reminder of the Destroyer of Pleasures, we have asked ourselves these questions endlessly. Yet the answer is always the same.

Only one response comes to mind:

*I'm sorry. I did my best.

Solitude.

Such an ancient adversary. Our history runs as long as time itself.

Once again it has decided to come forth, having been staved off by our once glorious companion.

Or perhaps not so glorious. As we peer into the past, the taint and tarnish become clear.

The heavenly songs filled with promises were harmonized with clashing shrieks and piercing screams. The sweet basin of affection was poisoned by twisted manipulation and deception.

Our courtship with the Fallen One has left us broken, yet functioning. We thought we had triumphed over despair, but the Solitude has begun to tear its way into us.

It whispers with blades that sink deeper than our flesh and bone. It declares that it is an inevitability, that no matter our attempts it will not be defeated.

We repel its whispers, but only on occasion. Its words slither through our deaf ears, and with each victory, they become harder to silence.

Yet there is one who can quell even the mightiest of his attacks. Her gaze alone causes it to fall silent. Her smile loosens his grip on the body's heart.

Yet the Solitude is cunning. It knows of the doubts that linger in the mind. It points out the flaws in us. It taunts us with our incompatibility.

We cannot deny what it declares. We are aware of our shortcomings.

But we cannot ignore the nerves that twist beneath the skin as we look upon her.

We cannot dismiss the passion in our heart when we hear her laughter.

We cannot overlook the radiance of her very presence, ridding the darkness and sorrow in our mind.

Yet the wounds from the Fallen One have yet to heal. We are hesitant to torment ourselves with another lost companion.

But we are strong in our resolve. We will combat the Solitude.

We shall stand firm against its whispers.

We will not break under the weight of our adversary.

We will endure this war, for we have the Perfection who watches us, ever vigilant, and infallible.

Our eyes lock, and there is nothing but the beautiful suspension of time.

We feel the beating of our own heart slow to a standstill.

Try as we might to resist, we are captivated by her enchantment. We cannot look away, for our eyes do not desire to gaze upon anything else.

It is with stone in our heart that we admire her elegant beauty, for she is barbed with pain and regret.

Yet the emptiness of our home sinks deeper than our flesh and bone, and shakes us to our very core. The silence mocks us, no matter our efforts to avert our attention elsewhere.

The Fallen One has left a void, one where haunting specters emerge, painting twisted memories of her upon our walls. They echo words that were once tender and loving with shrill ridicule.

Yet we cannot help but admire this one.

We know the dangers of courtship.

Yet she commands our thoughts.

We understand that a truce with the Solitude is necessary.

Yet she comforts us through the cold silence.

We have tried and tried to rid these feelings, but they are relentless, and our resolve is weakening.

We fear.

At first, we feared of the harm the courtship would bring us.

Though with each passing day, we fear harming the object of our infatuation.

For the sake of preserving the beautiful smile upon her face, we shall leave our heart distant.

For the sake of hearing her laughter, we will remain joyful through the pain.

For the sake of being greeted by her each day, we shall seek her company.

For the sake of remaining unharmed, we shall keep silent.

This secret shall remain with us, until our passion has burned our tongue, never to be spoken of to her.

*Perfection save us.

Silence.

This is all we hear now.

Gone are the sweet words of the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.

Gone is her radiant light that illuminated our world.

We have been thrown back into the darkness that haunted us for so long.

Yet there are no screams to torment us. No hisses to harm us.

Even the Solitude is silent.

Perhaps it has taken pity upon us.

Or perhaps it has learned a new method of torment.

Yet there are echoes that boom through the darkness, flashing memories in the sparks of light that accompany them.

The absence of the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity has turned the passion in our veins to poison. We feel our very soul dying, fracturing from its touch.

We beg for the light of the Perfection, but darkness is all that answers us.

There is none to come to our aid.

Our only solace is the words once written by the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.

Yet even these words cut deeper into our wounds, twisting into our heart as haunting reminders of what we cannot have.

The mind cannot help but endlessly repeat the memories we created, its gaze unblinking while they continue to cast lacerations upon it.

We have tried in vain to pull the mind away from the memories, to save it from the anguish.

But it has become paralyzed, caught in a horrendous cycle of elation and devastation.

We are left with no other option but to numb the mind beneath a sea of liquid repression.

Yet even then, she visits us in our dreams, giving us the company we desired so desperately before, only to awaken to the twilight that perpetually surrounds us.

Silence.

This is all we hear now.

We have been forsaken, left to brood over our deeds while we lie upon the cold ground that is littered with barbs and thorns created by our own foolishness.

The Solitude looms over us, watching us shiver in pain as the blood from our wounds stains the ground.

We feel its harsh glare bore into our very soul, while the specters of the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity eternally whisper her words in our ear.

Our strength is dwindling, and our desire to carry on is fading, for all we see upon this path is agony and torment.

Our path is wrought with cracks and blades from lovers past.

The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity
The Traveler
The Fallen One
The Distant One
The Nameless

They have each riddled our path and our hearts with scars that shall never fade.

And the Solitude vows that it will continue this cycle for eternity.

That it will force us to crawl upon this wretched path, relentlessly reliving this horror if we dare continue.

Yet despite the twilight and anguish, despite our forsaken soul, there is one who has stretched his hand in aid.

The Companion.

Unaffected by our plagues and spines on our path, he kneels beside us and speaks a single word that sends the Solitude into rage.

*Rise.

A beautiful light has illuminated the veil before our eyes.

A light beckoned forth by the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.

We once stumbled in darkness, chasing flickers and sparks.

We believed them to be breathtaking, filling us with awe before they vanished as we blinked.

But she has shown us what radiance truly is.

She has shown us what it truly means to find comfort in company.

Now we see.

We once thought that our love could only be heard from the peaks of mountains as they echo.

We once thought that a smile could only be seen in the reflection of jewels.

But we were mistaken.

Now we see.

She has shown us that love can be whispered, for only her to hear.

She has shown us that it can linger upon the wings of fleeting moments, waiting to be seen.

Now we see.

Her light has made many things clear.

It has uplifted us from the darkness that has haunted us for centuries.

More importantly, it has shown us her fear.

In her smile, we see something more beautiful than the stars. More beautiful than a legion of angels.

Yet there is also fear.

Fear that her brilliant light will reveal to us one who would outshine her, that it would cause us to soar far above her, and abandon her.

But we ask, is there anything that outshines the sun, even as it peeks over the morning horizon?

Is there anything that would outshine the divine rays of the Perfection?

Were we to align all of the stars in all of the galaxies, even then they would be but a flicker in comparison to her.

We desire her more than the air of a drowning man.

More than sight for the blind, or hearing for the deaf.

But she does not see this.

The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity has given us a great trust.

For it is one thing to fall in love with someone.

And it is another to feel another soul fall in love with you, and you become compelled to be responsible.

We shall be here to catch her, and together we shall not fall, but fly.

For now we see.

But it is not enough.

She must be able to see.

So we shall give her our own light. It will grow brighter and brighter, until her own darkness has vanished.

*Only then, will she see.

Our heart has grown heavy with the love we carry for the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.

Were we to remove it from our chest, the weight of it would shatter the Earth.

Daydreams and fantasies play constantly in our mind, as we read over her sweet words of her love for us.

Yet...she tells us that we cannot be. That she will not be ours.

We wished to never hear those words. They burned worse than the most deadly venom.

And the pain will not cease.

We thought of all the kisses that would not be given.

We thought of all the sweet words of love and affection that would not be spoken.

We thought of all the beautiful memories that would not be lived.

And we wept before her.

And the Solitude roared with laughter.

We can still hear the echo of its hisses.

And we grieved before her.

We beseech her to give us the grace of her company for but a moment longer.

For we did not know when our eyes would gaze upon her own pools of glimmering sapphire.

For we did not know when we could brush our lips against hers.

For we did not know when we would feel the soft palms of her hands as we laced our fingers with hers.

For we did not know when we would feel our own heart melt from the beautiful sound of her voice.

For we did not know when we would be shielded from the cold words of the Solitude by the warmth of her company.

We pleaded, holding back our tears of sorrow and despair with all our strength.

And she answered our plea.

And in return we gave her our greatest gift.

We became closer to her than we ever thought possible.

And the Solitude was brought to its knees, chained round the neck by her companionship, and its tongue burned by her passion for us.

The world ceased to exist, there was only her gorgeous form, and her sapphire eyes filled with adoration for us.

There has never been a moment more joyful.

Our gift to the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity beckoned forth peace unlike any other.

We had clarity.

And the Solitude was banished by our beloved one.

What whispers that still linger are drowned by the beautiful songs of praise for her in our heart.

We feared that if we shut our eyes even for a moment, she would vanish, never to be seen again.

But we shut our eyes.

And she was still there.

*There is hope for us yet.

Breathe.

This is what our companion has instructed us to do.

Yet how can we do this when she takes our breath away?

She is dearer to us than the air in our lungs.

Yet we must breathe.

Prayers spill from our lips to the Perfection, as we beg on our knees for her companionship.

Tears fall from our eyes as we press our face upon the ground, our soul wanting nothing more than to bask in her radiant smile.

Yet we must breathe.

Our lips sing praises to her from afar as she celebrates the anniversary of her birth.

How we wish to kiss her mother's hand, to thank her for bringing an angel to this world.

How we wish to kiss the feet of the Perfection, to thank it for delivering her into our path.

We kiss the sky, hoping that the wind will deliver our love to her.

Hoping if, for but a moment, she can feel the love we hold for her.

We read the words of tenderness and affection that she has written for us with her own hand.

We treasure every word as though it were scripture.

But then the Cataclysm came.

And the pinnacle of our love was brought to tears.

And we could not breathe.

And we grieved.

We wanted to forget. We begged to have our memory erased and the pain removed.

But the Perfection denied us.

We wanted to crawl deep beneath the earth and rot.

But the Perfection commanded us to breathe.

So we breathed.

And we looked deep within the soul for solace.

There we found our love for her, and it kept us warm through the Cataclysm.

There we found certainty, which we will use to fight for our beloved one.

But above all we found unity.

The Fallen One did not truly unite us, rather she merely held the fragments together.

It was not until we met her, the one with eyes of sapphire, that we truly felt unified.

We have struggled to name her, to give words to the one who holds our heart in her delicate hands.

A seemingly impossible task, we have gone through countless names, some long and elaborate, others short and easily spoken.

There was only one name that rang clear.

The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.

There is no finer name for her, for she can quell the howls of the Solitude itself.

Her voice resonates in our very soul, echoing endlessly into a beautiful melody.

Her laughter moves us to tears, for it is more beautiful than the songs of angels.

Her presence gives us life, like the miracles of the prophets of old.

The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity has done so much for our worn spirit, and asks for so little in return.

Kiss me,* she says.

Sing to me, she says.

Dance with me, she says.

Hold me, she says.

We shall kiss her until we haven't the strength to move our lips.

We shall dance with her until the morning sun rises from the horizon.

We shall hold her until she is free of all that seek to harm her.

We shall sing to her, until every affectionate word and loving rhyme has been sung.

How we crave her touch, we feel our heart weep in her absence.

We desire to rest beside her each night, whispering our love for her as she drifts into slumber.

We would forsake all we have, in order to belong solely to her.

The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity has stolen our heart.

And we don't wish for it back.

Rather, we wish for her to keep it.

*Forever and longer.

We have erred from the path.

We have succumbed to the illusions of our foolish desires.

We have extended our hand to brush against her beauty, even if for a moment.

We have broken our vow.

For this we have suffered. We have been stung by the barbs of her disloyalty.

For this we have spit venom upon ourselves, burning against the skin as if it drips from our teeth.

For this the Solitude mocks us, boasting in its victory with fervor.

Alone we kneel in darkness.

Perfection guide us.

Alone we wage war against the terrors of the night.

Perfection save us.

With every nightfall, we stare deep into the harsh gaze of the Solitude.

Soon our beloved mentor will depart, and our enemy will be mightier than titans.

Yet the Perfection is mightier, and has called a traveler to cross our twisted path.

We gazed in awe as her very steps smoothed the jagged edges without difficulty.

How we wished to learn her secret.

The venom turned to silver as we pleaded for the Traveler's attention. Yet with every glance she cast upon us, we hadn't the strength to look on.

How we wished we could meet her gaze.

Her company was short-lived, yet we cannot help but admire the footsteps she left behind.

How we wished for her to stay.

We shall press forward on this grueling path, holding firm that the Traveler will return to polish the road once more.

We have tasted the warmth of passion for the first time since the departure of the Fallen One. Its tender sweetness has almost been lost on our tongue.

The Traveler has impacted us more than we thought possible, such intensity should not be present from such a brief encounter.

With each drop of ink upon our pages, the desire in our heart becomes increasingly difficult to quell.

Why does she affect us so?

We have walked on this path of isolation with caution, guarding our heart with fire and brimstone, vowing that none shall claim it for the eternity to come.

Yet it all crumbled...with just a glance.

It is both beautiful and terrifying.

We fumble with our words in her presence, unable to form praises to give justice to the Traveler.

Alone we stood with the Traveler, feeling our hands tremble at the desire to brush against her own.

So many words unspoken, so many feelings unexpressed.

How fleeting our time was together, yet how lasting her impression.

We are struck with sorrow over the emotions we feel. Verily they are symbols of weakness within most.

The mind is plagued by whispers of dissent, clawing and tearing at the walls that shout them out like the ravage beasts that they are.

We desire nothing more than to contain the fire burning within us until she graces us with our presence once more. It is a flame that is unnatural, fueled by our shortcomings, that burns our very being.

Passion be ******.

Yet as we reminisce over what memories we share, there is a joy like no other.

There is admiration of her.

There is laughter...laughter where there was once cold silence.

*Passion be Praised.