Truth Is (Day 207)

The creature spoke to them in a voice of echoes. It was the kind of sound that took up all the space in your head but seemed to come from nowhere--or everywhere, all at once. It barreled down the mind's corridors until knocking on the door to your inner self. It was a wordless mumbling drone, high-pitched but serene. It seemed to expect you to understand it--and in a way, he did. "Why have you come here?" it seemed to ask. Terakiel wasn't sure he could answer that question.

It was perhaps half the size of a man, lavender in color and vaguely insectile. Large gossamer wings fluttered lazily as it examined its new visitors with large black eyes. There was a shrewd intelligence in those eyes--though if Terakiel were to be completely honest he wouldn't be able to say why he felt that way. This creature--which seemed to hover rather than fly--had an otherworldly quality about it that set his teeth on edge. It's like it wasn't supposed to be here. Terakiel had witnessed a lot of strange things in the past few days but there was nothing that seemed to warp his perceptions like the creature that was before him.

The moth-like creature was glimmering ever so slightly. It was bathed in a soft light that seemed to originate only from itself. The sunlight filtering in through the thickly tangled trees found no purchase on the surface of this thing. But it was there and it knew what it was looking at. It demanded to be noticed, to be seen. Terakiel couldn't help but banish any doubts he had about the genuineness of what he was seeing. This was real--more real than anything he'd seen in his life. He heard that distant, echoing sound again. It reverberated inside his head.

You do not belong here.

"I. . .I know. I know I'm not supposed to be here."

Continue.

Terakiel did not ask for elaboration. He knew what the strange creature meant. He knew it did not have time for anything else but the truth. "I've run way from home."

You've done something that has changed everything for you.

"Yes. I killed my father. It was an accident--or so I'd like to think. To be honest, I cannot shake this feeling of. . .glee when I think about it."

Why would you relish the act of murder?

"I don't like to kill. I hope I never have to do it again. But. . .him. It's him. I cannot make up for what I have done but I can't say I exactly regret it either. It's a terrible thing to say but I can't help it."

You must take care that you do not go down the wrong path. Was coming here the right choice?

"I don't know. I know I can't go back. It felt like I had no other option."

You thought you might die.

"I did. I thought that might not be such a bad thing."

You feel your life has no worth because of what you've done.

"Yes. However, if there is a way I can atone for what I have done, I will do my best to work toward it."

You can never make up for what you have done. You can only reconcile with yourself. If you are to go on living, you must forgive yourself--even if no on else follows suit.

"I'm. . .not sure I can do that."

Think on it, then. Your choice will be important in the days to come.