Novus Quod

Azylia’s corpse was frozen solid, the starred night sky revealed only the surface of her skin. Her deformed face layed on the ground as the sand-like graupel ran through the crevices of her shriveled skin. I was crouched beside her, my head wrapped with a long dark grey scarf. I heard the sound of a raven. I had not eaten in weeks, so I quickly readied my bow and aimed at the raven. A symbol of death will cease a bit of hunger. I hope the Winter does not get mad, I thought. I let go of the rope on my bow. After I hit the raven I quickly ran to catch it before it fell on the ground, and I assured it’s life was properly ended. I wished the Winter would pardon me.

It is impossible, even though I wish for it, I thought. The Winter was the symbol of remembrance, I could not be forgotten, for I had stopped the fire that burned for eons. I had created eternal slumber by extinguishing the will to live. I had frozen the eternal flame that lit the Forge.

I walked down the dunes of snow as I plucked the raven of it’s feathers. My blue lantern hung from my waist belt. The absence of warm blood in him made it easy for fungi to grow on him, so I had to be quick to cook it. I fit him in my lantern powered by the blue gem and let him cook while I wandered. The gem is losing power, I thought as I remembered where I left a Crater, far south. I started to run when the cold became too excessive. In the cold Winter you could only wander in sunlight, or you would freeze to death.

I saw in the horizon what remained of the Dwarf’s mountain. They made the most use of the Forge. I thought of all of the Dwarf’s I killed, who once told me of the legend. I held the power to change this world. My red skin and my straight scarlet horns. I remembered when they once were curved. I was weak at the thought of death. I walked to the wrecked mountain to find a place to sleep, maybe I could fuse a new Crater there. For sure there had to be enough souls.

And I did. When I arrived there, the dust from all of the fallen stones was still airborne. Between two large slates I saw the large chimney that once was the hottest place on the surface of Wanderer. I found a place to set up a tent and I started recalling the steps necessary for a Crater. A large amount of lost souls, such that when fused could create a crystal of pure materialized energy, I recited by heart. I had a flashback to Azylia’s face, when she was still alive, of course. I had done so much to help the Winter, to let it give me power. All just to try to fail terribly to revive a dead lover. I left my lantern and channeled the Winter’s power to form a new Crater crystal. Afterwards, I charged my lantern. Good as new, I whispered.

I sat in my tent as I recalled my glorious mission. Traveling to the center of the earth with the largest army that has ever walked on Wanderer, larger than the Cyborgs. Only an army of undead could destroy the creation of Satan. I jumped into the underworld and killed all of the True Devils. I knew the Archangels were smiling at me, but they didn’t know what was coming. I put out the fire that was used to Forge magic.

It was not to displease my antecessor Satan, it was to harvest the energy that warmed all humans. What some call the Will to live. After destroying the Edge, Forge, Heart and Chalice, half of the world’s aspects, I harvested the energy to make the largest source of energy ever, and with it I made the Winter stronger. Now people could only remember life.

After all life was lost, and only I stood on Wanderer, I experienced regret. How could I have forgotten the pain of memory. My horns grew the largest they had been, so heavy I had to cut them off. I had traded creation for memory. And at this point the second stage of the Winter appeared.

I also recalled the bland taste of the second Winter wine, the one which made me undead. The bleak thought that I was willing to go through the world’s largest torture just to obtain what I most wanted. I also remembered the three Winters, and recited them. The first one is the thought of loss and the regret of having nothing to aim for. The second one is the one of rot and the product of Having something to fester on. The last one is the one of forgetting. I felt myself getting closer to the third one.

After I sobbed for a year, I realized the second winter had already consumed the world. No life on the surface, or hell, or in the Hall of Gods. Their power was useless against the Evolved Winter. At that point I feared forgetting everything. I feared the end of it all, even though it was what I wished. I wished for everything to end, but I couldn’t accept losing Azylia. I could not accept there is no life when the Winter is the only power on Wanderer. I wrote this journal to be the last piece of information. Although I had ended the aspect of knowledge, the Lantern, I wished to leave a note on this lost place. Evolved Winter, I whisper now. The Cryogenesis.