Okay, when I first made this blog a little less than a week ago, this isn't necessarily what I had in mind. Actually, I'm pretty sure up until this point in my life I've been attempting to avoid exactly this sort of scenario like the plague. "This sort of scenario" being, in particular, the one where I write fan fiction. However, I was stricken by inspiration and really, what can you do about that? This is Part 1 of presumably many parts to come, published in serial fashion. Anyway, without further ado, this is The Grand Synthesis, Part 1:
The lone mind drifted.
Aimless against the rocking waves of the void, it rolled gently, swaying inwards and outwards on formless currents emanating from the vastness. On all sides it was enveloped in a storm of chaos, but a palpable serenity found its genesis within the confines of the mind and radiated out into the environment surrounding it. It was with the barest effort that the mind maintained the calm; exertion of its will over this domain came as naturally as the lungs draw in breath. Indeed, the mind hovered on the edge of consciousness, dipping below and rising above as it floated vast distances across the abyss.
Or at least there was created the perception of vast distances, though measurements are meaningless without reference, and in this space all things lack relativity. All that truly existed here were perceptions, and all perceptions originated in the mind. These were some of the things that the mind dwelt upon when it surfaced into awareness in the colorless expanse.
Time, like distance, was meaningless here. Yet the mind perceived that it had drifted here for some length. At least insofar as it could measure time in thoughts, and it was aware that many thoughts had passed. Many thoughts remembered; many thoughts tucked away deep into the recesses of the mind’s crumpled folds, but no thoughts forgotten. There was nothing forgotten.
The mind retraced its thoughts, re-evaluated, re-considered. It awoke a concern long abandoned, a concern for location. It waged internal arguments within itself, the ripples of which cascaded outwards from it, reflecting on the void around it. “Where am I?”, it questioned itself. “Do I exist in a physical space? Have I been dwelling merely within my own confines?” Insecurity wrinkled the fabric of space surrounding it.
This matter was argued hard but settled shortly, relative to the length of thoughts that had preceded it. Spatial location was clearly immaterial without reference. Location was irrelevant.
Next it moved onto another contentious issue, that of identity. “Who am I?”, it questioned. “What am I?”, it continued. The second answer came more easily than the first. It was an originator of thoughts, this was clear. Fundamentally, it was a mind. Any further definition was irrelevant in the absence of relativity.
The mind clung more willfully to the first question, long after the second had subsided. In fact, it clung almost desperately, and the sea around it began to toss and boil. “Who am I?” it nearly begged. The answer hung tantalizingly close, as it always had, and the mind struggled violently but despite all of its determined flailings it continued to fail to pierce the hazy shroud that clouded it. Only a dim silhouette gave the mind hints as to its own identity.
Dejectedly, the mind was forced to accept the conclusion it had inevitably reached many times before. In the absence of relativity, identity was meaningless. The mind was at one with everything.
Then suddenly there was a change. The mind experienced an event it had not experienced for many thoughts. Perhaps the sensation was even wholly novel, as despite how deep the mind delved it could not recall encountering the sensation before, and the mind knew there was nothing forgotten. Here was a change enacted not by the mind, but by an external force. There existed an outside universe; it had just made itself known. The mind was overcome with joy.
It was subtle; merely a glimmer of silver. Yet in this colorless void it shined like a thousand suns. ”Suns”, the mind thought, and the thought was novel. Yet how could it be? There was nothing forgotten.
The mind waded towards the silver glimmer. Merely the act of focusing attention drew the mind near it, and as such the mind moved quickly. And even as it moved, the glimmer drew the mind inwards; a movement entirely outside of the mind’s own will. And yet, the mere fact that such a forced movement was possible directed the mind’s will towards the glimmer ever stronger.
The silver glimmer widened around the mind. What was but a shimmer became a gaping rift, opening into a silver expanse as vast as the colorless expanse from which the mind emerged. The mind was enveloped, and encased in blinding light.
A pale hand was splayed out across a great blue-silver dome. It supported a blue-sleeved arm, around which the edge of a dark blue cloak wrapped as it whipped back and forth in the violent wind. Out beyond the edge of the dome, great blue-silver spires reached out of a blue-silver sea marred with great splotches of pitch black oil that curled and slithered. A deadly chill ran up the arm, spread through the limbs, and overtook the entire body. As his eyes gently drifted shut, he was aware of a great black mass approaching from the right. Then Jace Beleren once again, as he had for many long thoughts, passed back beneath the surface of consciousness.
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