Read Online Into Oblivion (Book 4) by Shawn E. Crapo - Free Book Online
Authors: Shawn E. Crapo
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almost statuesque.
“It was all beautiful,” the voice continued. Farouk slowly approached; the feeling of sadness growing as he got closer to the being that sat upon the throne.
“What happened here?” Farouk asked softly, sympathetically.
The figure rose, allowing its long tunic to fall straight. It was a tall, thin, male, light-skinned, with long white hair that was tied back like Erenoth’s. The man’s tunic was floor length, with alternating white and black layers of silk. Upon his head was a crown of silver adorned with diamonds and onyx. His silver belt, also jeweled, held a long, curved sword similar to a scimitar. It was, however, thinner, and much more elegant.
“Darkness,” the man answered. “Darkness and death.”
As Farouk approached, the man’s features became more apparent. He did not appear entirely human; but like something more advanced, more pure in spirit.
“Who are you?” the man asked, slowly walking toward Farouk with cautious steps. “Where is your home?”
Farouk bowed his head in respect, holding his free hand out in a gesture of peace.
“My name is Farouk al-Fayid,” he said. “I am a Druid. I am not of this world.”
The man nodded, looking him over curiously. “Your presence seems familiar to me, yet I do not know what you are. What manner of creature are you?”
“I am a man,” Farouk replied.
The man came closer, staring at Farouk’s beard and dark hair. The Druid could see that his eyes were gray and bright, and his ears pointed. Though obviously male, his demeanor was somewhat feminine; graceful and gentle. His features were also less than man-like; more like that of a woman of the Northlands, with whom he had recently been acquainted. Even from a male point of view, Farouk thought, he was beautiful.
“I have told you my name,” Farouk said. “What is yours?”
The man-creature cocked his head in thought, as if he had to contemplate the answer. Farouk waited patiently as he struggled to remember.
“I am sorry, friend,” Farouk said. “I did not mean to trouble you.”
“My name… My name is… Faeraon.”
Farouk smiled. “I am pleased to meet you, Faeraon,”
He held out his hand, drawing a blank stare from Faeraon, who was apparently not familiar with the gesture. Slowly, though, he took Farouk’s hand, grasping it gently.
“It has been so long since I have spoken to another… entity,” Faeraon said. “I have been alone since my people were taken.”
“Where are your people?” Farouk asked.
Faeraon turned away, facing the alcove and the diminishing sunlight.
“I do not know,” he said. “They faded away when our Mother died.”
“Your Great Mother?” Farouk offered, moving up to stand beside Faeraon.
“She was the source of all life,” Faeraon explained. “And the mother of all creatures who walked upon Alvheim.”
“Alvheim?” Farouk repeated. “Is that the name of this world?”
“Yes. Where are you from?”
“My world is called Earth,” Farouk replied. “But its name is different, depending upon the language that is spoken.”
“And you somehow know my language,” Faeraon stated.
Farouk nodded. “I do. But I cannot explain why. I have come to understand many things that I did not understand before.”
“Will you tell me some of these things?” Faeraon asked. “Perhaps if I knew some of these things, I could find the answers that my daughter once sought out.”
“I will tell you anything you want to know,” Farouk said. “But please, tell me how long you have been alone.”
Faeraon seemed to struggle again, and he grudgingly went back to his throne, motioning for Farouk to follow. The Druid took a seat on the edge of the top layer of the dais, while Faeraon returned to his throne.
“It has been thousands of years since the last of my people, my daughter, left this world.”
“Where did she go?”
“When the Destroyer came, and the Mother spirit was killed, she left to find the means to bringing
“It was all beautiful,” the voice continued. Farouk slowly approached; the feeling of sadness growing as he got closer to the being that sat upon the throne.
“What happened here?” Farouk asked softly, sympathetically.
The figure rose, allowing its long tunic to fall straight. It was a tall, thin, male, light-skinned, with long white hair that was tied back like Erenoth’s. The man’s tunic was floor length, with alternating white and black layers of silk. Upon his head was a crown of silver adorned with diamonds and onyx. His silver belt, also jeweled, held a long, curved sword similar to a scimitar. It was, however, thinner, and much more elegant.
“Darkness,” the man answered. “Darkness and death.”
As Farouk approached, the man’s features became more apparent. He did not appear entirely human; but like something more advanced, more pure in spirit.
“Who are you?” the man asked, slowly walking toward Farouk with cautious steps. “Where is your home?”
Farouk bowed his head in respect, holding his free hand out in a gesture of peace.
“My name is Farouk al-Fayid,” he said. “I am a Druid. I am not of this world.”
The man nodded, looking him over curiously. “Your presence seems familiar to me, yet I do not know what you are. What manner of creature are you?”
“I am a man,” Farouk replied.
The man came closer, staring at Farouk’s beard and dark hair. The Druid could see that his eyes were gray and bright, and his ears pointed. Though obviously male, his demeanor was somewhat feminine; graceful and gentle. His features were also less than man-like; more like that of a woman of the Northlands, with whom he had recently been acquainted. Even from a male point of view, Farouk thought, he was beautiful.
“I have told you my name,” Farouk said. “What is yours?”
The man-creature cocked his head in thought, as if he had to contemplate the answer. Farouk waited patiently as he struggled to remember.
“I am sorry, friend,” Farouk said. “I did not mean to trouble you.”
“My name… My name is… Faeraon.”
Farouk smiled. “I am pleased to meet you, Faeraon,”
He held out his hand, drawing a blank stare from Faeraon, who was apparently not familiar with the gesture. Slowly, though, he took Farouk’s hand, grasping it gently.
“It has been so long since I have spoken to another… entity,” Faeraon said. “I have been alone since my people were taken.”
“Where are your people?” Farouk asked.
Faeraon turned away, facing the alcove and the diminishing sunlight.
“I do not know,” he said. “They faded away when our Mother died.”
“Your Great Mother?” Farouk offered, moving up to stand beside Faeraon.
“She was the source of all life,” Faeraon explained. “And the mother of all creatures who walked upon Alvheim.”
“Alvheim?” Farouk repeated. “Is that the name of this world?”
“Yes. Where are you from?”
“My world is called Earth,” Farouk replied. “But its name is different, depending upon the language that is spoken.”
“And you somehow know my language,” Faeraon stated.
Farouk nodded. “I do. But I cannot explain why. I have come to understand many things that I did not understand before.”
“Will you tell me some of these things?” Faeraon asked. “Perhaps if I knew some of these things, I could find the answers that my daughter once sought out.”
“I will tell you anything you want to know,” Farouk said. “But please, tell me how long you have been alone.”
Faeraon seemed to struggle again, and he grudgingly went back to his throne, motioning for Farouk to follow. The Druid took a seat on the edge of the top layer of the dais, while Faeraon returned to his throne.
“It has been thousands of years since the last of my people, my daughter, left this world.”
“Where did she go?”
“When the Destroyer came, and the Mother spirit was killed, she left to find the means to bringing
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