Silence of Time

by Aedan Haley, Grade 11

A January 2024 Monthly Story Challenge Winner 

THE CHORUS OF THE GODS

In the vastness of the void, beyond the mortal senses, a timeless place exists where the gods of Aris commune. They have no true form. For they are echoes, voices that vibrate through the fabric of space and time. 

“Long have they wandered, these fleeting mortals, basking in the fire that is not their own.”

A rumbling hum fills the void.

Eldra, the Voice of Wind, speaks from within the void, “They have forgotten the breath that bore them into being. They hide beneath the heavens of Vought’s making, deafened to the air that whispers, blinded to the stars we have laid above them.”

“So they do. They dig into the soil, constructing their city of glass and Stone, as though they could bury our gift and bear no consequences.” Anzar, Keeper of Stone, replies.

The space shifts as a presence emerges from the darkness, Anemo, the flame of becoming.

“But one remains, a spark within the husk of hollow men. Jared, son of Vought. He yearns for something beyond him. He would claim our light for his own. A fool, yet... he may be shaped, his hunger turned against him.”

“You would use him, brother? Is he not tainted as the others? Lured by the illusions of power?” Eldra questions.

“He bears their poison, yes, yet his ambition blinds him to their lies. He is untouched by loyalty, unfeeling, an empty vessel. He knows nothing of love, only of dominion. He may serve our purpose if guided by an unseen hand.”

A silence falls, as though the gods consider this strange irony, that Jared, who desires only to command, shall be commanded in turn.

Anemo’s voice rises, “Let him be the vessel! Through him, Vought shall consume itself.“

“And what of the others? Those who lie in the distraction around them?”

“In time, they shall wake. When their idols are cast down, when the last light of Vought flickers and fades, they shall be driven from their senselessness. Only then shall they remember the voices in the wind, the texture of the soil, the heat of the sun.”

Anzar’s slow voice rumbles through the dark.

"But this will be no gentle reckoning. Their lights will burn to ash; their city shall shatter. The age of silent watchers ends. They shall know the wrath of gods they have forgotten, and they shall remember us once more. For in forgetting us, they have forgotten themselves."

Anemo’s flickering presence grows ever brighter, his voice rising in a rage.

“Then let it be so! Let Jared’s thirst for power be his undoing. Let him separate the chains that bind them until it crumbles and Aris reclaims its due.”

“And then... when the dust has settled, shall we be remembered?” Eldra asks softly.

Anzar’s voice, heavy as mountains, answers.

“The people of Aris shall awaken or perish in darkness."

OBELISK

Hanging in the void was a red, dustlike moon, its light casting an eerie, blood-tinted hue over the landscape. Time here felt frozen, suspended in the stillness of the sky.

Jared was alone.

The stars above were cold and distant, nothing like the familiar sky back on Aris. 

He could see it now, rising from the red horizon. The obelisk stood tall, towering over him. Carved ancient symbols covered the obelisk. It didn’t reflect light. Instead, it seemed to devour it, bending the space around its impossibly smooth surface.

Jared’s heart raced as he drew closer. There was something wrong about the obelisk that had been hidden for centuries. He could feel its presence pushing against the edges of his mind. His research had not prepared him for this. The obelisk was alive. It pulsed with energy, something ancient.

A whisper brushed his thoughts. 

"Jared..."

He froze mid-step. The voice was soft and distant, like the sound of a breeze through a forest. He looked around, but no one was seen. He was alone. But the voice was unmistakable. Something had called to him. 

"Jared"

The words were barely audible, but there. His mind searched for an explanation. Jared kept moving toward the obelisk. With every step, the whispers grew louder, still indistinct. They grew more and more as he moved closer. 

Standing at the foot of the towering monolith, Jared raised his hand toward the stone. His fingers hovered inches from it. The whispers had turned to screams. The voices swelled. Jared's ears were ringing.

"Touch it…"

He hesitated for a moment and then made contact with the obelisk. All of a sudden, the voices stopped. All Jared could hear was the deep emptiness of space. The black stone was colder than anything he’d ever felt, and yet it burned. His whole body felt as if he was burning. His mind expanded in an instant, exploding outward, scattering across the vastness of space and time, separated from his body. The voices yelled in a deafening roar, filling every corner of his consciousness. He could see everything, everything that was, and everything to come. Their presence was overwhelming, filling him with both terror and awe.

"You will carry us."

Jared tried to pull back, but his hand wouldn’t move. Jared saw cities yet to be built, worlds dying beneath the weight of untold power. He saw himself at the center of it all. 

Jared's scream broke the silence of space, though no sound escaped his lips. The soft red hue of the moon slowly faded as Jared closed his eyes and fell to the ground unconscious.

JARED VOUGHT

“Every soul in this city owed their existence to me.” He thought to himself. Jared overlooks the city at the top of his tower, the neon lights covering the city in a hypnotizing glow. Power throbbed through his veins. They were his puppets, and the strings were around his fingers. The people of Aris too ignorant to sense what was going on, too connected to the machines he built, the systems that he had designed. His father had been weak, blind to the future they could have had together. Jared had no such limitations. He wasn’t burdened by morality or sentiment. The Gods had shown Him the way. They told him everything. All the sacrifices he had made to stand where he is now, the future he had always wanted to shape. It was almost too good to be true. But the voices grew louder and louder every day. slowly wrapping around his throat. The Gods wanted more. They asked more from him. Jared no longer knew if he held the strings. Perhaps he was the puppet.

(Photo credit: Sophia Vila Flor of Unsplash)