The greatest and the smallest, light and dark, right and wrong -
they all come together to form the miracle that is life,
and none can exist without the others.
Time. Going by. Decades, centuries flowing by, some faster, some slower.
Through them all, the Guardian stood, protecting the earth it grew from. Created in the name of Light, to protect against Darkness it stood, through wars and evil.
A being so ancient and vast the humans that flickered by could never fully comprehend it, only stop now and then to stare in awe.
Through centuries it had stood. And now it was coming to an end.
The ancient consciousness had seen the signs for a long time. The dance of the stars, the turning of the seasons all came together and staked the final path towards the end. Other possible futures were filtered away as time turned this way and that, 'if's and 'maybe's becoming 'happend's.
It knew there was a wrongness to that awaiting darkness, that the time wasn't right. Still it was inevitable. The sage spirit knew this, and so did the only thing it could. It prepared for its death.
And rebirth.
Pain.
Rough texture of bark. Shining, searing, ornamented sword...
The maimed tree trembling with power, coming back to life.
Pain. A red haze, making it difficult to see. Faraway voices, approaching.
Pain. The world is slow, heavy. Hard to breathe. Painful.
Salt, metallic taste of blood. Blood? Voices coming closer.
Pain. Damp hair plastered against skin. Fingers no longer under control clawing at the ground in a feeble attempt to make the pain go away.
Defeat. Bitter. Wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
I have lost, haven't I?
A voice replies, did I say that out loud? I must have, since She answers me. She looks... sad?
All wrong. Pain... Sword throbbing, grating.
Is a copy only a copy after all..? Is that why I lost?
Somehow that still matters, even now.
And She says no. That's not the reason.
Eyes hurting, burning. Are those tears? I never cried before.
If only I could somehow make them understand, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Suddenly it's all so clear, so obvious. Only now, for the first time I understand.
Such irony. Here's to you, Fate. Surely there can be no force more cruel?
But at least I'm allowed this before the end. Maybe not so bad, considering.
Pain. Distant, fading away with the sound and light... Soft forest light filtering down...
Does a copy have a soul?
Well.
I guess I'm about to find out.
The story idea is mine, obviously, since I doubt anyone else has a weird enough mind to consider something like this. It was all based on a dream I had, actually. Amazing, now you know that too.
The quotes are from Oshiro-sama's Letters to a Red Priest (in other words, I made 'em up) and can't be used without my permission. If you ask nicely and give me credit you'll most likely get my permission, but anyways...
Many heartfelt thanks to Jen for actually encouraging me to write this, to Syrena for beta reading it and telling me it's good (don't hit her), and to Wendy for not smacking me too hard with that fish of hers...
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