Perpetual Dawn (Day 73)

There was a swirling, glittering light in the midst of interminable blackness. It was the same kind of feeling you might have when rubbing tightly closed eyes. It was that barely perceptible orb of light dwarfed by overwhelming shadows. It was just out of reach, but all too necessary to grasp. The wind howled mournfully, but soundlessly. Its cry was drowned out by the darkness. Time had no meaning in this place; it was impossible to tell how long it lasted or if indeed it stretched on for eternity.

Craggy, knife-like mountains sprung up out of the darkness into horrifying focus, their contours rendered in sharp monochromatic relief. The wind howled, now all too audibly as it snaked its way through the gray fog hugging the mountainside. Icy black trees exploded from the obsidian earth, showering the surroundings with dust. Meanwhile, the moon materialized in the immutable dusk of the sky, full and majestic, showering the black world with pure white moonlight. Stars blinked into existence one by one, decorating the sky with constellations. 

The black ground moved as if the entire planet's rotation was spinning at a terrifying speed. The mountains and trees blurred into an indistinct stream of gray. As the dark world performed its chaotic dance, dashes of color began to streak into existence. There were varying shades of green and blue that joined the palette, followed closely by countless brown hues. It started as a jumble of colors but gradually, as everything stopped spinning, the colors saturated the landscape. The blackness seeped out of the trees and the ground, evaporated from the mountains. Rich browns and verdant greens suffused the environment as everything began to come into true focus.

The wind died down and the frigid cold from before began to lessen, replaced slowly by a growing heat. It was pleasant at first, a temporary refuge from the terrible cold. Soon, however, the heat grew in intensity until it was like a blazing fire burning inside one's body. His hands were on the planar stone still, as they always had been. As they always would be. 

It was not always like this. Something was different. Something had changed. It wasn't supposed to hurt like this. Before he had always been uneasy and even queasy when traversing the black world, but now. . .This was different. His hands on the stone were different and the pain was. . .terrible. Through the fire consuming him he was dimly aware of a ring of trees surrounding the clearing. This was not right. Something had gone wrong. He'd been assured everything was going to go smoothly, as always. But this was not right.

The knife edge of panic poked at his subconscious and he felt the wild urge to pull his hands free from the planar stone. But he couldn't do that. He had always been there and always would be. It was not his place to do so. But why not? Why could he not be the master of his own bodies? 

Bodies?