The Full Moon Brings Clarity ملاحظة قصصية · الجزء 5 من 6

Two heartbeats rattle my ribcage.

One clings to a vengeful rhythm. It expands, rips and tears, suffocates me from within. It feels righteous, though vindictive.

There is another tone that reverberates inside. A quiet hum, mild with remembrance of... of what, exactly? Some spectre of myself I do not recognize; less wizened and haggard.

He speaks of a border that can only be ruled by a strong hand. Of a proud but shattered kingdom, wishing to unite — held together in a fist. Of a seed of secrecy, a threat, planted in the outer rind of his brain and nurtured until rootbound.

He is the Guard of the North

The warden of the wall

And he, too, is crushed under the fist

For he lives in a world of mice and men, where the cowards tether one below

Where one needs a sword to sever these ties that bind

Ties that cannot be remade

Where the weak are culled, and one must rise to live

So the walls must be taller, and the ascent higher

and the distance grows forever, until everything below is misty blue

The mist unites, so says the seed

In the Shroud, everything is whole, and all is one, and one is all

And so the right hand stretched out to deliver what it carries

A fist; a sword; an end

A cerulean thread to stitch two hearts as one

— Lord Vorgoth, Guard of the North, Ruler of Rimgard