Never before had he ever felt a spiritual force quite like this one…. The soul was in such a heightened state of the perfect combination of rage and despair that his heart beat faster. Beads of sweat began to appear on his brow…. The intensity of it all resonated within his mind… it felt like rage. Such anger.
This can not be the one… his fears whispered into the darkness of his mind. Quickly wiping sweat from awe struck eyes.
Even as he thought this he knew it was true. Tasting the salty worry leaking from his pores, The Prophet continued with the incantation. His mouth spoke the necessary words even as his mind clamored over the possibilities of what could potentially happen. Why this soul? In a universe where souls are limitless and possibilities infinite, why this one? Maybe it was not for him to know. By all appearance, what he was looking at was not a savior, not the benevolent and just messiah he was expecting to see gathered in the misty fire that raged within the cave, but something tainted… something with the potential to end everything. For some though the end of time was much preferred to the current state of existence. Sometimes nothing is better than something. Was this his duty? Is this what his dreams were about? Was he supposed to begin the end of everything? It didn’t fit. All of his work just to end everything. The years he spent in seclusion… channeling the spirit, searching for clues to this one soul. Did he give up his life in search of the End? What about the Tormented? The indications that had seemed so clear were now confusing and cryptic. Were the visions merely to give him hope so he would not falter along his path?
With a mind that was always so sure of the future his doubt felt like foreign terrorists striking without mercy upon his logic.
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