Story time with Chakrasul's congregation.

You ask Siaern, "Have you ever heard of the legend of tiyen indoran, or the
garden of midnight and rapture?"

Siaern's frown deepens, his hands clawing at each other. His fingers rake over
the whorls in his skin, as if to press them down, but to no effect. "Of Tiyen
Indoron, yes, but my history only extends so far, and know nothing of the garden
of midnight".

You say, "Well, we call them legends cause they were so long ago. But they are
actual events from the distant past."



You ask, "So you know a bit about Tiyen Indoron but never heard the full story?"



Siaern says, "I know of Idar and Catiana, of Madhi's corruption of the Tower of
Light into the Isle, of her pushing and twisting to see his armies laid to
waste."


Siaern says, "Unless this is not the story you're speaking of."

You nod your head emphatically.

You say, "Of course the story extends further if you only read the mhun covered
book on it."

You say, "Idar's story in particular goes far beyond."

You say, "Even into our current age."

Siaern says, "I have not gotten to such thing-."

Siaern blinks.

Siaern says, "I was under the impression he perished."



You say, "When has death ever been a permanent thing. For anyone."

Siaern says, "I didn't mean death."

Zenobia says to you, "Sooo true."

Siaern says, "I meant perished, wiped, erased, gone."

You say, "Difficult to do, and did not happen when he threw himself off the
ramparts."



Siaern tilts his head and listens intently to you.


You say, "Oh, so now you want a story. Caught your interest knowing something
you thought was one way, was really another."


You say, "Well."

You say, "Let's go back to the end, you know Catiana was Mother."

This brings him some measure of calm, the almost childlike wonder pushing itself
to the surface to dispel Siaern's envy. "Yes," He says, simply.

Siaern nods his head at you.



Siaern says, "I am aware, yes."


You have emoted: Tina leans against her phoenix, settling into a storyteller's
cadence.


You ask, "Does mother strike you as someone that is particularly merciful?"


Siaern says to you, "No."


Siaern says to you, "Not in the slightest. She does not deal in mercy, or pity."

You say, "Chakrasul being someone that is kind and caring. Giving mercy to
enemies. Most certainly not."




You say, "So think back to the ending of that story then. Would it make sense
that to crown off one of her greatest accomplishments, after the truth settles
in to Idar and he tastes true despair for that first moment, she grants him
mercy and lets him end his own descent right away."


You say, "There is no fun in that, no malice."


Siaern doesn't even need to think about it once the question is posed. "No.
Never. She would take him as a trophy of Her greattest triumph".

Siaern says, "Turn his despair into a never-ending font that proclaims what She
is capable of."


Siaern says, "Make that which was Light, eternally dark."

You say, "Precisely."

Siaern asks, "But how?"


You say, "She gathered Idar's beaten form and made him unable to die. She
brought him deep below the earth where none would find him, where none would
journey. Into the very heart of a volcano."

Siaern raises an eyebrow at you.

Siaern says, "...A volcano."

You say, "And she kept him there, chained. She'd visit, taunt him with visages
of Catiana, of what he'd done. Make him relive his failures over and over again
fresh and new. And she used her whip to teach his flesh pain, such beautiful
pain."

You say, "Yes, a volcano. A place where there is no life, and none dared
venture."


Siaern settles back into quiet contemplation, listening attentively.

You say, "Where you can never see the sky, never know a breath of fresh air.
Never know passing of time, night or day or plant or anything living."



You say, "His whole world was Chakrasul, everything revolved around her. He
loved and hated her, as he loved and hated herself. While he was destroyed, in
that despair, he still could not stop laving Catiana, who she was. Chakrasul. He
could not even bring himself to stop loving what she did to him. It kept going,
on and on. He relished her touches, despite the pain it brought. The visions of
his failures, because it meant she was still thinking of him."


Siaern tilts his head and listens intently to you.

You say, "That love turned out to be his saving grace though. It was the one
thing that kept him going, that would not let him fall completely to despair so
the game would be done, and mother could finish him."

Siaern creases his brow in a frown.

Siaern says, "I don't...understand."

Siaern says, "How could that keep him going?"



You say, "Over time and torture this love was refined into a nearly unbreakable
will. You see, after being exposed to mother's tools for so long, he began to
get the same benefits we get from them. Overcoming them, hardening them,
strengthening his willpower."

You say, "Never had another mortal been basked in her essence for so long, so
thoroughly. While his body and spirit were broken, a part of him was being
forged impossibly strong. Into something that transcends mortal limits."


Somewhat confused, Siaern creases his brow uncertainly in your direction.

Siaern says, "I'm...not clear on your meaning."

Siaern says, "He was but a man, always, was he not?"

Siaern says, "Something perhaps great in him, but still...fallible, breakable."

Siaern says, "Mortal."

You say, "He was when he entered the volcano."

Siaern asks, "And when he exited?"

You say, "He was something else entirely."



You say, "Something had a tie to the substance inside the volcano. Something
that took notice of Idar and his torture, and the growing power that was being
forged inside him."

Siaern's lips purse and pulsate in an attempt to form words, but he can only
twist his head and offer you a confused expression.

You say, "It nurtured Idar, fostered the growth of this new center in him, gave
it power."

You say, "It wasn't a being, it wasn't a person, it was a primal essence, a
force."



You say, "A divine force lacking form. We know it as Mebrene today."

Siaern blinks.

Siaern says, "No."

Siaern says, "No, that doesn't make any sense."

Siaern says, "It would have to be corrupted, violent...impure."



Siaern says, "If it was birthed from him."

Siaern says, "From ... -that- torture."

You say, "Mebrene thought this would make a fine home for itself. That it could
purify it, make it into a perfect vessel."

You say, "So it poured itself entirely into Idar. And his chains broke, he rose
from the volcano. But he was not Idar."



You say, "He now called himself Rahn."

Siaern says, "...WHAT."

Siaern says, "Wh-...H..."


Siaern says, "WHAT."

Siaern stares at you, his mouth gaping open in shock.

You say, "Yes, this occured during our current age even. The torture continued
all the way till then. Idar was the container, the vessel for the essence of
fire that we first came to know."



Siaern leans forward as if to stand, but seems to lack to will. "...He
was...Did...." Struggling, to find the words, he finally chokes out "Did He
remember Madhi?"

You say, "Now you may not know much of Rahn, but his teachings, his ways. He was
obsessed with purity and nothing else. He had to purify himself, and all around
him. Purify, purify purify. Let nothign of corruption remain. He was driven to
an insane degree by this desire. None of the other 2 incarnations of Mebrene had
this feeling about him."

Siaern says, "No, I know much."

You say, "I think that his mania should answer your question then."

Siaern says, "I knew that."

Siaern furrows his brow in consternation.


You say, "Why would Rahn be so overly concerned about purity, about ending
corruption, more so then any other."



Siaern says, "Because He hated the thing He loved, was broken by."

Zenobia rolls her barbell along her teeth.

Siaern says, "Because He was born from it."

You say, "Because he was impure through his love for Chakrasul, tainted by it,
and always would be. Something he could never overcome."

You say, "He could never be the perfect vessel, Mebrene was determined to drive
it out of him. Purify him."



Siaern says, "And it couldn't."

You say, "As his ending showed."



You say, "Over time corruption grew in him, and he eventually fell to it."



Siaern says, "Then ..."

Siaern says, "Their Daughter."

Siaern says, "Was that born of Catiana and Idar, or Madhi and Rahn?"



You say, "Idar was finally done with his torture. He had shown the world that
the source of all purity was nothing but a toy for corruption."

You say, "They are one and the same. Probably a little bit of both."

You say, "But, the story of Idar does not even end here."


Siaern blinks.

Siaern says, "But Rahn is gone."

You say, "You see Mebrene itself had become tainted by such close and long time
spent with corruption. It too was tainted. It cast parts of itself off when it
reincarnated. All the parts it considered tainted. As corruption can not be
removed, or destroyed, it thought this was the only thing it could do."

Siaern says, "How...HOW could he be kept if.."



You say, "They body of Rahn, and this cast off essence though. Again Mebrene in
its arrogance makes a mistake. While useless to him, there is ones who could
make use of such a marvelous transformation and divine power of purity into
corruption."



You say, "It was gathered, every drop, and taken to the temple."

Siaern tilts his head and listens intently to you.



You say, "And there it remains to this day, converted to its new purpose in
service to us. Always burning, never dying, always corrupting all it touches.
The Cold Flame."

You say, "The eternal example of Mother's love."


Siaern says, "....I..."

Siaern says, "Don't know what to make of all that."

Siaern says, "I...envy Idar his tortures."


You say, "Now mother could have given up when Mebrene took over idar. She could
have thought she made a mistake, keeping him alive, playing with him. Turned him
into her own worst enemy, her nemesis. She desired something, and underestimated
its power, it was taken from her. But she did not fear losing what she desired.
No, she grew stronger, and made it all happen as part of her desires. In the end
his torture was even greater, and she got an even greater gift returned to her.
Losing a desire will not destroy you. It is an opportunity to get an even
greater desire."


The lesson shatters Siaern's illusion of entrance, tossing him back with force
into the comfortable, jet-black sofa. "....That's..." He growls, mumbling
something that doesn't even truly sound like words. "....I."

Siaern creases his brow in a frown.

Siaern says, "Madhi had patience."

Siaern says, "In droves, eternally, and as Her desire changed before Her, she
could adapt."



Siaern says, "What if I don't possess this patience?"

Siaern says, "What if I am too rigid to adapt?"


You say, "She knew she had the power to make it work out, whatever happened, and
never gave up. If you know a problem before it becomes one, you can work to fix
it. Everything can change, if you use the tools, and have faith in them."


You say, "Also."

You pet a phoenix of corruption ingratiatingly.


Born from the depths of the Cold Flame, this unusual phoenix seems to be made up
of swirling flames of jade and black, instead of the normal white and red. The
bulk of its body is green flames, occasional streams of black fire running
through them. The underside of its wings are made up of pure black flames,
while the top retains the jade flames prevalent throughout. The only things not
made from these flames are its eyes, shining brightly with an amethyst color,
and a twisted metal shackle around its left ankle, upon which "GLORIA" has been
inscribed. On the forehead of this beast, lines of black fire have flown
together forming a circle with a thirteen-pointed star inside. He is called
'Glori.'


You say, "This is Glori, the animal companion and avatar of Rahn. When he died,
Glori did too. We broke into Dendara and stole its soul, and gave it new life
through the cold flame. It now serves as a beast of burden to carry the champion
of corruption for all eternity."


You say, "Even now, she finds new ways to continue his torture. The desire never
ends, so the desire can never be broken of taken away. It can not be lost."



You say, "She is the example we all strive to reach. If you are unsure, keep to
the faith. Do what Mother would do. It will lead you to the proper destination.
In the end, only faith will let you make that final step."

Siaern slumps down, slightly, his face a bit pallid, eyes dazed. "Do as Madhi
would".

Neron says, "Take what you desire."

Siaern shakes his head.

You say, "And I think that's a fitting place to end this lesson. We have many
more, and many more stories, but too much at once will go beyond comprehension."