560. Ethereal threads

560. Ethereal thread

As I watch the encounter between Meridia and Molag Bal unfold before me, I begin to realise that our souls have become but leaves in the storms created by these ‘gods’. Their influence is like an ethereal thread through the needle of a mortals life, everything that happens on Nirn is stitched with their colours.

When ordinary people turn to evil and justify the unjustifiable in the name of their piety, you can be sure it is because of daedric influence. They have us so on edge and obsessed with worrying about our afterlife that we have forgotten how to cherish our scars and live the mortal life we have.

Meanwhile their priests and cultists continue to preach that we should kneel and grovel to these all-powerful ‘princes’, but surely if we mortals are to learn anything from the Planemeld, it is that our tenets should no longer be about whether these ‘deities’ can forgive our weaknesses and transgressions, but whether we can forgive theirs.

S.K

559. Stranger

559. Stranger

It is strange, I was always taught that life is an odyssey, that every step we take nourishes, grows and cultivates our soul. It is what we are, who we are. During our journey our naked soul becomes dyed with the colour of our thoughts, and echoes to the timbre of our deeds.

But as I look upon mine now, I see nothing familiar; no colour, no stain. No blush of my conscience, no sully that ought lay unrevealed. I hear no echo of my clash and toll, I hear only a symphony played by instruments I recognize not.

I have become a stranger to my own soul.

S.K