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[Deacon Drake]

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It's kind of funny. Every time something happens here, it's always cold, dark, and empty, in the very early morning.

Walking down the main corridor of the Empath Abbey was something that never appealed to Steel. It was cold, poorly lit at night, with just a few wall sconces filling in the corners, and above all, dangerous. At this time everyone was asleep, which made thieves' jobs a lot easier.

Steel wrapped himself tighter in his cloak, cursing the coldness of the late winter. He wasn't far from his destination, but he still felt like he had so much farther to go. It was an odd feeling for him, for he was usually the optimistic one.

When he reached the doors at the end of the hall, he grabbed the handle only to rip it back in pain. The handle was deathly cold. He used his cloak as a barrier and pulled on the door, but nothing happened. Odd... He pulled harder, and the door began to crack, but very slowly. He put still more force on it and it finally swung open, and a blast of cold air blew out at him.

After he recovered his body heat, he walked into the cold room only to find that it was even darker than the corridor. He pulled a candle out of a nearby sconce and continued to walk in. He eyed the room carefully, remember his last encounter here. He didn't want anything weird to happen here again tonight.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, he viewed the room and every detail to get his bearings. He was in the Church of Yew, one of the first ankh-based temples in the realm, and also one of the simplest. Two lines of stone benches faced the front, in which sat a simple ankh. He walked up to the ankh and placed his hand on it, closing his eyes. He grinned softly to himself. Memories hurt.

Backing up a few paces, he fell to one knee and placed his blessed axe - the famed Axe of the Heavens - on the floor before him. Saying a silent prayer, he touched the blade of the axe, feeling its power surging through his fingers, up his arm, and into his chest. The reverence ritual was not one commonly performed, simply because it only worked for those whose blood carried the ancient race of the Phoenician Sages.

He heard a small voice in his head, and recognized it easily. It was the voice of his old mentor, the elder prophet Excelsius. The seer was one of the longest-living humans in his day, cursed for his greed with eternal life, and then brought to his unpredicted murder because of his arrogance. In irony, he was also one of the more revered priests of the realm.

The voice became clear, and Steel could make out the words that made him shiver with remembrance.

I know why you are here... you have seen the signs, have you not?
"I have," Steel replied, "but I cannot explain them. What is going on? Where has everybody gone?"
That is a question that I cannot answer at the moment.
"Everyone I know is dwindling away. I haven't seen or heard from many of my friends in too long a time."
This world is dwindling. Interpret these signs as you wish, but the truth is inevitable.
"The truth?"
The end. You knew it was coming, either for you or for others. Your decisions don't only affect you, and you of all people should know this.
"I don't understand--"
...and you never have, nor will you ever understand. You are human.
"No more than you. I want an explanation."
I was hesitant to explain to you, but you leave me no choice. I would have thought, that you, Steel, of all people knew how society worked. You, of all people, with your history that you add to every day, would know the truth of what was going on!
"What are you talking about?"
The world has forgotten, Steel. The voice was becoming a faint yell now. Not about themselves or the world around them. You are becoming a recluse, and the world has forgotten about you. You are no longer significant!
"I refuse to listen to this."
Well, you will. You should know by now that no one truly wanted you around. You were used, Steel. Rowen used you to forward his own beliefs, as did Arlin, and Maelwyn!
"It isn't true. You cannot convince me..."
Try to imagine yourself in their position. What would a druid want with a warrior who doesn't give a damn about nature? What would a mayor need with someone who can't even defend himself, let alone an entire town? You were a tool, Steel, and no matter what you do, the past cannot change... only in your mind.
All the arguments Steel tried to conjure up dissolved in his mind. He knew the old man was right. Rowen didn't need him. Maelwyn didn't need him. Arlin, or Baeleron, or all of the people he once followed... none of them needed him.
You see the truth now. You've followed your path of righteousness long enough... where has it gotten you? To poverty, that's where. You are not as weak as people are making you feel, or look. You only need one thing now, Steel, and that is a place that not only needs you, but wants you as well.
"I... I see the truth now. But... how?"
Truth cannot be defined except what happens in the real world, not in your mind. There is no true path of light, especially the one you are used to.
"So where will I go?"
That choice is up to you. You have an entire life to live, Steel, so don't let it be wasted on false beliefs and being a tool. Just live your life. Find a place where you can be you. You are not a slave, you are not a tool. You are Steel Carver Skye, son of one of the greatest men to walk these lands. Live the life of a seer of the truth.
Steel murmured a silent prayer and looked up. "I see now. I see what you mean." At this point he stood up and slipped his robe from over his body and wrapping his cloak tighter about him. He examined the small text that was sewn into the belt -- the mark placed on it by a fellow druid.

He whispered a silent apology to his old friends and laid the robe on a nearby bench, then slowly turned and walked out of the church.

So this is the truth. I don't belong to anyone. I am a free man, and so that shall remain.

It was sunlight by the time Steel reached the exit doors of the Abbey, and what a beautiful morning it was. Perhaps there is more to the world than being a follower.
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