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[Codex Of Dusk]
Page: 001
The Dusklings Tongue:
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As this text materializes in Kian's mind, he finally fully understands what the creature is telling him to do.
"So it wants me to speak it? Huh?" he wonders.
"But I can't even open the rest of it, and only this tattered page is all I have..." Kian attempts to turn to the next page, but it remains unmoving. Among the drifting winds and the soft meadow of grass, each sensation felt like a mockery of his current dilemma.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. How do I lie now? What do I say?"
"So, Kian, what does the Codex say? Because even though I can understand and decipher the words, only the chosen one has the ability to remember them and the Codex's creator," says the flaming creature behind him.
Kian sweats profusely, feeling the intensity of the situation. The surroundings, once serene, now seemed to close in on him. Each blade of grass, every whisper of the wind, intensified the pressure. His cerulean eyes darted around nervously, and his hands trembled as he clutched the Codex.
"Think, think!" he urged himself."I can't let it know I'm stuck!"
His mind raced, a tumultuous mix of panic and desperation. "Maybe if I describe the symbols in the page or pretend to read..." But the runes eluded him, and a bead of sweat traced a path down his forehead.
"Come on, Kian. You can do this," he tried to convince himself, yet the weight of the situation bore down on him. The creature's expectant gaze and the unmoving Codex intensified the struggle within him.
"Okay, stay calm. Just say something," Kian coached himself. He took a deep breath, attempting to regain composure, while the meadow around him seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
Finally overwhelmed by his state of panic, Kian decides to wing it and say, "Sha Thro'gath Aza'tho Sotho Va'ol Osh Zae'rel Mornoth Arrith Ythranth Nath Thro'gath Yth Thro'gath Agon Shub Ky'te Thro'gath Kroyn Prot Chronar Enai Nythos."
Suddenly, as he utters the words, the Codex glows and lifts from the table.
Immediately winds rise higher and higher, transforming the calm surroundings into a tempest.
The hurricane becomes a storm's eye, and cyclone no. A typhoon begins to form.
"What did I just do now?" Kian thinks fearfully as his heart beats wildly in excitement.
The winds, now turbulent and wild, touch his naked body, sending shivers down his spine.
His dark abyssal hair ravages with the winds, and his cerulean eyes unknowingly glow with an otherworldly cyan light.
Kian, overwhelmed, doesn't notice the change in his eyes as he struggles to comprehend the chaos he unleashes.
His hands, attempting to block the relentless wind, flail comically in the tempest. Wide-eyed, he grapples with the fear of the unknown power he has triggered. "Why did I say even those words? What's even happening now... Just why do I keep doing this to myself? Do I really want to die?" his thoughts echo amidst the chaos.
As the typhoon winds swirl around his body, Kian's eyes widen in both terror and awe.
The meadow, once a tranquil haven, becomes a stage for the unleashed forces of nature.
Amidst the cyclone, something....unexpectedly flaps in between his legs, adding a touch of absurdity to the intense scene.
Oblivious to this humorous detail, Kian is consumed by the overwhelming realization that he has tapped into a power beyond his understanding.
The meadow transforms into a tempestuous spectacle as the typhoon gains strength, its centre marked by the brown Codex adorned with golden runes.
The once serene grassy expanse now quivers under the influence of unknown energy, roots anchored firmly in the earth yet caught in the maelstrom's dance.
As Kian stares in awe and fear, the Codex begins to shine with an ethereal light. White and golden lightning interweave with blue electrical sparks, creating an intricate dance of otherworldly forces within the swirling typhoon.
The very air seems to vibrate with the intensity of the unleashed power, and the meadow transforms into a chaotic canvas of illuminated chaos.
Amidst the tempest, the clouds converge toward the typhoon, drawn like moths to a flame.
Yet, paradoxically, the sky remains an undisturbed shade of blue, and the sun continues to shine down upon the surreal spectacle.
The energy radiating from the Codex seems to reshape the very fabric of the environment. Blades of grass sway and bend, mimicking the rhythmic dance of the unleashed power.
Each element of the meadow responds to the energy as if the natural order is momentarily suspended, yielding to forces beyond comprehension.
Kian, caught amidst this cosmic tempest, witnesses the convergence of elements with a mix of terror and fascination.
The typhoon, a manifestation of unknown energy, swirls and pulsates, creating a mesmerizing yet fearsome display that defies the laws of nature.
Unbeknownst to Kian, his dark abyss hair begins to produce golden sparks, creating a mesmerizing display that accompanies the swirling tempest.
These ethereal golden sparkles travel around his body, caught in the dance of the typhoon's energies.
The flaming creature, seemingly unaffected by the raging winds, looks at Kian in amazement.
It observes the golden sparks emanating from Kian's hair and can't help but be awestruck by the unexpected manifestation.
"Remarkable. This chosen one's connection with the Codex goes beyond mere understanding. The golden sparks, a testament to the power he wields."
As the creature gazes upon Kian, it notices a wry smile playing on his lips, and wide eyes reflecting both excitement and fear.
Kian's facial expressions are a canvas of conflicting emotions. The creature marvels at the chosen one's resilience and the subtle hint of exhilaration beneath the mask of fear.
"Such a peculiar chosen one. His wry smile and wide eyes of excitement are a stark contrast to the fear that grips him. Does he not realize the extent of his own power?"
Kian's every facial nuance, every nick and corner of his expression, becomes a subject of the creature's scrutiny.
Despite the chaos around him, Kian remains oblivious to the transformation within himself.
"To journey alongside this chosen one... The last chosen Duskling of our race truly is a stroke of luck." A sense of pride washes over as it continues to observe Kian in bewilderment.
As the tempest gradually begins to dissipate, Kian senses a peculiar connection forming between himself and the Codex floating amidst the remnants of the storm.
The winds, once fierce and untamed, now carry a gentler touch, almost as if nature itself is sighing in relief.
Kian feels a soothing calm wash over him, contrasting the chaotic emotions that had consumed him moments ago.
The world around him returns to a semblance of normalcy as if the storm had never occurred.
The meadow, once a stage for cosmic forces, regains its tranquil composure.
The lingering scent of petrichor fills the air, and the sounds of rustling grass and distant birdsong return, harmonizing with the fading echoes of the tempest.
Amidst this calm, a sudden burst of bright green light emanates from the Codex. Kian's attention is drawn to an eye forming on the front of the book, carved in golden runes. A surreal aura envelops the Codex, its colors shifting between hues of mystical green and radiant gold.
The otherworldly spectacle captures Kian's senses, and he can't help but be entranced by the ethereal beauty before him.
Suddenly the golden-green eye on the Codex shoots out and merges with Kian's own curious teal eyes, and a sharp burst of pain courses through him.
The sensation is intense, a mixture of searing heat and numbing cold that pulsates through every fibre of his being.
Kian is momentarily paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the experience, his vision blurring as the pain reaches its zenith.
Amidst this cosmic convergence, Kian's thoughts race.
A torrent of fragmented images and emotions floods his mind.
The pain, the swirling colours, the eye merging with his own – it all becomes a kaleidoscope of sensations.
He grapples with a sense of inevitability, a surrender to forces beyond his comprehension, before succumbing to the overwhelming intensity and blacking out...
Standing over Kian's unconscious form, the creature hesitates, its words hanging in the air like a delicate thread of connection.
"You are... Not just a Dusklings, your..." The sentence remains unfinished, and for the first time, the creature opens its mouth. Kian, in his unconscious state, remains unaware that the creature has never spoken through conventional means before.
As the creature pauses, a smile adorns its face, revealing four sharp canines. In a voice filled with mockery and acknowledgement, it utters words directly into Kian's ears.
"You... You're special. I like you. Your acting was great. Honestly, I didn't even trust you fully if not for the fact you could read the Codex and also had a Raina'ds energy flowing through you. I would've long left your soul to rot in the Midnight Halls." It's words resonated with the soft rustling of the flowing grass, each blade whispering secrets to the wind.
The ambient sounds of the meadow, now devoid of the tempest's fury, paint a serene backdrop. Gentle winds carry a melody, harmonizing with the creature's voice and Kian's unconscious presence.
As the creature picks up Kian's body, the grass seems to sway in rhythmic acknowledgement, as if nature itself acknowledges the unfolding events.
The creature's movements create a symphony of sounds – the delicate crunch of grass beneath its feet, the soft whoosh of the wind, and the subtle murmur of unseen energies.
With a graceful bend, the creature lifts Kian, creating a seamless dance with the elements around.
The creature's white feathered eyes flickered holding unknown thoughts, and the backdrop transforms as it creates a tear in the fabric of space and the meadow becomes a painting of swirling colours, as the soundscape evolves into an ethereal composition, accentuating the mysterious departure.
The sudden tear in space opens a gateway to the unknown, and as the creature walks away down the hill and into it, carrying Kian and the Codex, the meadow bids farewell with a whispered symphony, and the backdrop transforms into a canvas of shifting hues.
With a quiet zip, the tear in space closes behind them, leaving the meadow in quiet contemplation as if nature itself acknowledges the departure of something extraordinary.