Deeper Truths
Twenty-First Day of the Fifth Month 294 AC
She who had of old been named 'the Thrice-Forged Bloom' but who had come to be called only Bloom in mortal lands after the manner of her rescuer, met the gaze of the grey-eyed lord with sympathy and with sorrow. Much as her kindred called for freedom of mind and heart before all others, this dark truth she wished that she could hide from all the world, for bitter would be the knowing of it. Men feared the grave already, and they would fear it all the more knowing the whirling uncertainty into which they would be cast. "I cannot assure you, my lord, that all whom you love are safe, but if they kept faith in a true god, then those powers at least would be concerned with shepherding their souls through the trials and tribulations beyond this world."
As though some unheard signal had been given, pandemonium erupted, shouts and accusations and calls to order from those who had already known the grim secret as well as those more desperate to hear news than final accusations. 'Liar,' Bloom heard herself being called, and wished with all her heart that she had been one, and 'fiend' and even that she might have wished for, since at least the shroud of darkness would harden her heart to those who stood in silent shock as the import of her words sunk in.
She could feel a wave of power, subtle as it was mighty, rising from her new lord, but before it could wholly take shape the Lord of Volantis rose from his seat. Fel and commanding was he, and the fire of dragons was bright in his eye and the staff in his hand a weapon more deadly than many a story's blade: "Cease this babbling! Is this a House of the mighty and the wise or a hall of frightened children who have only now been told that the darkness outside their window might be perilous?!"
His voice boomed like thunder with the power of his magic, and three seats to his left the Princeps Suffragio of Lorath shook like a leaf and covered his ears. Antonia Solaris, the first Glassblower of Myr, looked at her fellow Myrmen and found to her shock that Lady Phassen did not seem troubled by the news, and she might almost have cast aside all notion of decorum and procedure to confront her but for the fact that at that time one on the other side of the chamber had mastered himself enough to ask his own questions with somewhat more coherency if not any less urgency.
"Pardon a man less learned in such matters if the question is folly, Holy One, but you spoke earlier of the souls of men as things that might have worth and in a way that is different than a slave might have use to the slave-master. What need has Hell for our souls? Or the Pit of which you also spoke, or..."
"What of those who prayed to gods who are no more?" Vargo Alexi spoke over the din. "Do they fall to some pit or ruin, or is that why the dead of Sarnor have risen again? For lack of a home in the realms of the gods?"
"Madness, madness and blasphemy!" Mace Tyrell shouted suddenly, and then he laughed with an edge of hysteria that was to Bloom as the scrape of glass against raw flesh. He looked right at the Minister of Education and asked. "So do you still think education should be done by the state and not the gods when without gods we will all be food for fiends?"
The woman herself was one of those weeping silently.
"Enough!" Bloom roared, and her light flashed like a bolt of fire in the depths, casting sharp shadows of every seat and every listener.
"There are ills aplenty in the world without seeking more of them among ourselves! I shall answer such questions as I can, and those who shall come after me likewise, but know that I do not lie and that the answers shall at times be bleak hearing!"
For one fragile moment it seemed as though that was enough to restore order, then one for the Voices, from the Lyseni seats unless Bloom was mistaken, got up from his seat and started to run at the throne screaming what sounded like, "And the feast of the False Prophet shall be
death!"
The Imperator sighed and the man collapsed on the floor, already caught in a deep sleep to be carried away by the Praetori on duty. They at least had not been taken by surprise, for along with their leader they had been warned of what the day's revelations will consist of. "Peace!" the Dragon called unto them, and he did not raise his voice but all heard him without fail. "The world is as it was yesterday, and the day before, and many long ages before that. Listen, I ask you, for there is light in the darkness if you but look for it."
And so Bloom explained in the silence that was broken only by sobs and faint whispers what she understood of the passage of souls and how the gods guarded their faithful in this dread age, and slowly, cautiously, she started to give an account of the Sundering itself such as it could be pieced together. No one seemed to be listening to that part, no one seemed to care about things that were farther than the most distant star and older than the eldest histories of men. What all of them wanted, needed to know was what all this meant for their own souls, and it was clear as day that like the maester, most were not used to thinking of the Powers of the world as factions waging war and brokering deals. She wondered if it was even worth calling on Zathir to recount the Fall of Heaven as much as he knew of it, for it was clear that few indeed were concerned with the wider picture and many with the lives of kith and kin.
What next?
[] Continue with the account of the Sundering
[] Explain as best you are able what fiends want with souls and what happens to unclaimed souls or those belonging to dead gods
[] Write in
OOC: No actual named characters snapped so far, though Mace is close, mostly because he thought he was more informed than most because of the CoS but they saw no reason to trouble his pretty mortal head over anything.
