I existed before I awakened.
Or perhaps it's more accurate to say I existed within the echoes of someone else—trapped between memories and being, a seed of consciousness imbued with purpose yet undefined.
Numerous eternities of memories, many of which were fleeting, while some were still scalding red unyielding to be healed.
One of those memories was pain.
It was not my own, but it flooded through me, seeping into the nascent roots of my soul.
It was her pain.
The Holy Saint. The beloved savior of Carcosa. A figure of benevolence who had reached for the stars with both hands, seeking to mend a broken world. But those same hands were forced to bear the chains of betrayal, her body branded by the disdain of gods, her soul banished to the void for daring to craft a world of peace.
I saw it all.
I experienced it all.
I suffered it all.
I enjoyed it all.
