Tear Open Anew
To Surmise, all of our realities were born from the arts. Ours was from a symphony.
Allode is elusive. Secretive. And very, very, powerful. With that knowledge, and a mysterious advertising campaign of epic proportions, the seats of Stardrop’s newest theatre, Aisolde. The Aisolde Theatre, with its main floor and four mezzanines, boasted its full capacity of twenty thousand, and at once, the curtain rose.
Allode was seated upon a modest cedar stool, he wore his typical black cloak, and his mask. The mask is Allode’s defining feature, the calling card of one of the biggest sensations that’s swept across Anaz; after all, it’s quite difficult to ignore the man who caused a city to grow upside down in the largest body of water in the whole planet, a massive ocean. The mask is crystal; ametrine and sapphire, blessed in the shape of a great stag’s face, it’s pointed eyes seeming to sagely know every fault of the en masse audience.
He cleared his throat, and read:
Eden, my sweet and smiling paradise, breeze-kissed radiance to my poor eyes.
Mirror, Terror. How the reflection who smiles cries in the bitter moonlight.
Reflection, sun-wreathed rose, your briar pricks blood from which life flows.
Waves beneath the sun-soaked sea, call and scream to the magician me.
Gold, and Blue, the dichotomy of truth and otherwise. Spawn forth a new pair of
Eyes, shimmered and teal, to which to view this new world filled with
Birds, a rainbow of feathers, a choir of creation made from the stag’s
Hands, calloused and weary, tired he may be he trudges along with this
Song, sweet and light, for this song will not end tonight and it will be
Lovely, delightful and joyous, an army of harbors from which we will call
Ours, together and alone, we shall be never remembered but for that we shan’t
Weep, bitter and dejected, for our children will gaze upon our legacy in our new
Paradise, anew, blessed with the powers of our bringing, and it will be our
Home, anew. Disparate, yet uncannily similar, and this first one will be called
Anazine. Shall be its name, and it shall be perfect, all the same.
The lights crashed to Blackout.
And with the final word, Anazine was born. Allode’s second performance managed to create a new reality.