The Story Teller's Debate

Chapter VI: Hall of HeartsThe King stood to greet the two boys."You're the King!" Jon stuttered."Yes.. I suppose I am. And you are?" The King could see the two were peasants."Why aren't you out there fighting!?" Jon yelled."And be dead? And how efficient would I be then? Am I a better Martyr than a King?""Well you haven't been much of a king, so yes.""To whom's perspective?" The King responded. Jon wasn't sure how to reply... "Am I, one man, to feed 52 million? Am I to have that kind of power? You exaggerate my potential to mock my accomplishments. Could you feed even a million?" Jon did not reply.Eric spoke up, "What are we going to do?""I don't know. We have to find a way to stop the invasion." Jon sat down in a pew to think."Not quite. The Centri can handle them. As will some close allies. We only have to worry about the men in the portraits.""The Portraits?" Jon was confused."Jon... The portraits." Eric grabbed his attention.Jon looked around and noticed the portraits of men scattered on the walls. "Who are they?""The Morthlings." Eric spoke."I thought they died out...""No. They were trapped in these portraits. Bryan, the guy attacking, would only have to open the portraits."Jon walked around the room, staring at the portraits. They looked like normal paintings of people, but the land around them was frozen. Jon begun towards the far end of the cathedral, where a massive window overlooked the city through stained glass. Jon knew where the cathedral was, it was in the District of Hess, standing far above the city, like a massive tower with no entrance. Jon never really looked at the Stained Glass, it was just kind of there, but now that he noticed it, it was curious...The glass created the image of a grey, rigid terrain, shrouded in auras of blue and greens and reds. There were stars surrounding the auras, but everything else was black. As Jon was examine the image, he could see a tower collapse in the distance. Jon watch it slowly drop onto the city. Suddenly, he begun to hear voices that echoed in his mind. "Jonathon Taylor, child of the son of Albeon the Star Catcher." Jon looked around to find who was speaking to him. "This world is of darkness... It shrouds itself in evil and... imperfection. We step not into it. You, child of the son of Albeon the Star Catcher, must come to us."Jon looked behind him, back at the stained window. This time, instead of staring at it, he seemed to stare into it. Curious, he walked towards it, and stepped inside.Morgan watched over the King's Square. The guards, wrapped in their frost bit cloths, stood the nobles up on the block. Before executions begun, they readied a young girl to be their first show for the worried crowd."Behold! This noble shall set the stage for the execution of the filth that has scorched your lives with their presence!" The guard spoke. The people watched as the cloth was removed from Sephara's head. Her eyes were submerged in tears that reddened her face. Morgan's calm seemed to fade to hatred. This was a child!" " the Centri asked."Not yet..." Morgan focused his vision on her. The Guard lifted his sword above her, ready to bring it down upon her. "now." Morgan watched the guard drop. The entity of a men came into being, an invisible Centri had been standing there the whole time. All the men and guards of Bryan's army pulled their swords. The Centri's eyes became a blood red that dripped from his mask. It was matched by bleeding pairs of eyes appearing around all the men... Hundreds of red eyes surrounded the area." " The Centri next to Morgan spoke before vanishing away. Morgan drew his sword, and jumped into the crowd.The Guards didn't know what to do, and were suddenly surrounded by armed peasants. "Why?! This noble filth takes from you and uses you for their own luxuries!"Morgan stood up to speak. "And you wouldn't?" The peasants shouted in agreement! "These nobles may not be good, or even remotely pleasant, but you're simply punishing them for not making you happy, for not pleasing YOUR will... They shouldn't have to meet your will, but they try. You may not always see it, but how could you? In a city this large? You punish them for not doing everything they can to make YOU happy, but why should they?" The Guard stood in place... He knew not how to reply to the masses yelling in agreement to his opposition. "Those nobles are better then you..." Morgan stood with his blade pointed at the guard. The rest of the the guards begun to attack the Centri and the Peasants. Sephara stayed in place, fearful of the violence around her. Everyone was stabbing and cutting, and blood filled her sights. A great noise filled the air, and she looked up to see a tower fall in the distance. Smoke filled the horizon. The City was literally falling apart around her. The magic that kept the towers standing had disappeared... Sephara closed her eyes, and pretended it's all go away.Jon stood freezing on a massive rock. It appeared endless, like a planet. The cold space around him was beautiful, stars and colors flew through the night sky. Jon heard the voice behind him, and turned to see his Planet below. He was on the moon... He stared down upon it, seeing a grey entity that was his city formed onto a peninsula. The land grew into a massive, and beautiful, continent. But it was small... so small... the planet was so massive... The world he knew was but a fragment in the world. Continents and islands he had never known of..."Jonathon Taylor. Child of the Son of Albeon the Star Catcher. You know not the path of your ancestry. Locked away since the dawn of Un'Bridge Laye." The voices spoke to him."Who are you!?" Jon looked around for them."We are the stars, and all the space between them. We are their mother and their father, their master and their servant. We are the stars in the sky that looked upon you with light. We now look upon you once more, and find faith in your world." The Gods spoke down to him."My world? But how? After everything that has happened!?""No, child. You see of the few, many. We see of each person his own actions and heart. We do not see the ways of a few, and judge the many by it. You have judged the world for the hearts of few."Jon looked down on the world... It was beautiful. He had never seen anything like it... "Look to us, our child." Jon looked to the stars again. "Who are you? Your souls speak of many hearts, and many years. Can you give up your soul to those you love?""What do you mean?""The world has for so long rested on the hearts of a few... But not this day. As the sun rises in the sky, this day shall rest on the shoulders of the many. But him who is closest to you shall rest only on your shoulders tonight.""Him closest to me?..." Jon thought for a moment, "Eric!! Is something wrong with him? Send me back!""The world awaits your shoulders to lift them. The stars will fall on you."Jon wasn't sure what they meant by that. He stepped back, and fell through the glass. Staring back, he saw Eric and the King stand to see what had happened to him."Jon?" Eric was concerned about Jon's expression."Eric... Behind you..." Jon stared behind Eric, at the entity that was Bryan."Well. Look, Corbal, it's the Morthling.." Bryan stared at them."King Louvre... The Peasant King." Corbal glared at him with a cold and dead hatred. "I only want the Morthling, ending him will free me of this hate.""Ending the Morthling? You seek to kill him?" Corbal was confused."Of course. I was used by them... Just a pawn. They were no different than the vile nobles I sought to destroy. Killing the last of them will be a release."Jon ran up beside Eric, "No! You're not laying a finger on Eric!""Eric?" Bryan stood forward, "Whom? I am only interested in you, Morthling."Jon and Eric went quiet. Jon didn't understand what he meant... Then it came to him..."Down falls the exile, down falls the Morthling" ..."Now the towers crumble, and down goes the Farmer""Who are you? Your souls speak of many hearts, and many years.""Every Faul Wizard has two souls. A sender and a receiver."Jon... was the last Morthling Bryan had been hunting... "Eric. The prophecy, it talks about the farmer... But you aren't a farmer, I am..."Eric looked at him with sorry eyes, as though he already knew from the beginning."Did you know of this?" Jon asked."We are the last... I wasn't sure how to tell you."Bryan laughed. "There are TWO? Two Morthlings still alive." He pulled a throwing knife from it's sheath, and aimed at Jon."No!" Eric yelled out, jumping in front of Jon as Bryan threw the knife. It struck him and it's force pushed into his chest. Eric dropped to his knees, his hands over the knife. He rose his head to meet Jon's eyes. "Jon... Don't let them... open the Portraits... Our evil... must die with us..." Tears begun to slide down his face, dripping from his chin, like the blood that dripped from under his hands."Eric..." Jon froze over him as his body fell onto the ground. Jon just stood there, his eyes hadn't moved from where Eric's eyes were. They were so cold, and dying... "No! You foul!" Corbal screamed out. "I need the Morthlings alive! Without their power present, the portraits can't open! I must open them!"Bryan lifted his last knife, aiming for Jon. He couldn't miss, for he had no other means of killing Jon. The knifes were special, the only thing in the room that could kill a Morthling.Corbal pulled a sword on Bryan. Baron, who had waited in the Portrait behind them, called out to Bryan. "Silence!" Corbal turned and lifted his hand to the Portrait. Baron hit against the wall of the painting. He looked around confuse, but knowing of what was happening. The portrait was closing, with him in it."No!" Bryan screamed. He ran to the portrait and faced Baron, who stared back without fear.Jon stood there over Eric, thinking of the God's words to him..."Can you give up your soul to those you love?" The words stuck in his mind, over and over..."Now." Corbal's grinned, "Let's open some portraits."