Where the Dark Wind Blows

By Sheamon

Lacan thought to himself as he rode in his Gear over the quiet, calm land of the northern glaciers. "Why don’t I just end it here and kill myself." Why not? He had plenty of reasons. His best friend, Krelian disappeared off the face of the earth. The love of his life, Sophia, had died only a month before. Now he could never finish that wonderful portrait of the woman he loved. All the work, the sweat, the hours of painting in that small hidden room, never to return. Lacan had been so happy while painting her. It was worth the long hours of work just to see her. Her auburn hair, her brown eyes, that were always capable of hypnotizing him were long gone.

He had contemplated suicide those lonely nights after her death. "All because of those selfish Shevites" he thought. They betrayed the Nisan people, exchanging them for this woman Miang, that he knew little about. He thought he heard something one cold night from Krelian about her being instumental to the Ministry. The Nisan people were trapped by the Solaris forces when Sophia, always being the sacrificial person she was, crashed a Shevat ship into the Solaris main fleet ship. Both ships were vaporized immediately by the explosion. He thought about her last words, "Lacan! Live!" "What did she mean?" he wondered to himself. He could not think of any reason why she would say that.

Krelian was greatly distraut by Sophia’s death. Krelian was enraged at how god could let a woman as holy as Sophia die. Lacan remembered how he vowed to create god, and then flew off in Amphysvena. No one ever saw him again. Lacan, distraut by the recent occurences, went to the cell of this ‘Miang’ woman that he had heard so much about. "Yes, it’s her fault", he thought. "If it wasn’t for her, the Nisan army wouldn’t have been betrayed, and Sophia wouldn’t have died." He went to her cell enraged, but when he arrived, he didn’t see Miang, he saw Sophia. "Elly?" Lacan cried out, Elly being Sophia’s nickname. But alas, the vision disappeared and he saw this woman, this Miang that he wanted to confront. He was speechless, unable to speak a word to her. "If you were powerful you could have saved her." she said to him. "Huh?" Lacan replied. "You could have rescued her, but being the weak person you were, you let the world take her from you." Miang said. "There is a way, you might be able to see her again. There’s a place called Zohar, a place where you can get the power." "Where is this Zohar?" Lacan replied. "I don’t know." Miang said. "But if you find out, you might get what you want."

Lacan spent the next few weeks studying, searching anything to get to this ‘Zohar’. He spent days at a time in the Nisan library researching, but found nothing. Distraut, he decided to go to Shevat, that place he hated so much, in order to find the information he needed. There, he approached Melchoir, Krelian’s teacher, to see if he knew where to go.

"No! I won’t tell you!" Taura screamed out to him. "This secret has been held by me under the request of the Shevat council. They will not let this information be leaked!" "Tell me!" Lacan screamed to him. "This is more important to me than anything else! More than painting, more than being with my friends, more than anything! This is the only way I can get Sophia back!" "Don’t listen to her." Taura said. "This woman, this Miang, she claims Zohar will help you, but how would she know? She doesn’t even know it’s location. If this information ever reached the Gazel Ministry, it would mean the end of us!" "I don’t care." Lacan said. "I’ll try anything." "You must have really loved her." Taura said. "More than my own life." Lacan replied.

Lacan left the laboratory enraged. Taura was the only person who had the exact coordinates, but refused to tell him the location of Zohar. That night, Lacan decided to break in, this being the only way he would find out where Zohar was. As soon as he entered the small lab, he started rummaging through papers, and drawers, desperate to find the information. Finally, after an hour, he found a small piece of paper hidden within a book that had 3 coordinates on it. "This must be it." Lacan thought to himself and left to go to his Gear.

Now, here he was, approaching the place, where he believed he would find Zohar. "I wonder what Zohar is?" Lacan thought. "I never really considered what object it might be. A person, a machine, a monument, it could be anything." Finally, he approached the place. He landed his Gear and left the cockpit and jumped down to the ground. The weather was horrible. It was snowing, and a cold, dark wind blowed across the landscape. Lacan looked around but saw nothing. "Where could it be?" he thought. "Perhaps those weren’t the coordinates after all." Suddenly, Lacan saw a light in the horizon. He decided to go after it.

After 20 minutes of walking throught the harsh climate, Lacan saw where this mysterious light was coming from. It was a large pit in the ground, around 1000 yards away. Lacan continued on until he reached around 50 yards from the pit. He suddenly heard a crack under his feet, but it was to late. The icy ground below him collapsed, plummeting him into a deep, dark cave.

Lacan woke up hours later with an ache in his head. "This must be it, I’m almost there." he said. He continued through a winding tunnel and approached a larger cavern. Inside, he saw a rock filled landscape, with dried bits of lava all over the ground. "How weird." he though, "for heat to be able to be generated in a place like this." Suddenly, Lacan heard a voice. "I see, you have come."

"Zohar, is that you?" Lacan cried out. "Some call me that." the voice replied. "I have been called other names, Modifier, Wave Existence, they all mean the same to me." "So you are a person" Lacan said. "Oh, no." the voice said. "This is what I am." Suddenly, without warning, the ground began to shake. Cracks appeared in the ground near Lacan’s feet. A large stone tablet rose about 20 feet in front of Lacan. On the tablet was a large eye.

"So, for what reason have you come to me?" the mysterious tablet said to Lacan. "I want to see her again." Lacan replied. "Ah! Sophia!" said Zohar. "It’s unfortunate, such a nice woman, sacrificing herself. I will give you what you need, but first, you must know something. These people you have known on the surface of the earth, know nothing of the real situation. They care not for Sophia, or you, or any other person. They are just greedy people who don’t deserve to live. It is there fault for her death. It’s the world’s fault for her death." "The world?" Lacan replied. "Yes, the world. It is such a cruel, harsh world that we live in, being so mean to Sophia, and of course, you. The world doesn’t deserve to be like this. The people of the earth don’t deserve to live." Lacan felt enraged at what he heard from Zohar. "What can I do?" he said.

"Destroy everything." Zohar replied. "Destroy the people, destroy the land, destroy Shevat, destroy even god, and then the world can be held accountable for what it did to you." "What about Sophia?" Lacan cried out. After all, it was the reason for him coming here. "Unfortunately, in a world such as ours, Sophia can not be revived, but she will be born again. Hundreds of years from now, she will be reincarnated." "Hundreds of years?" Lacan said, "I can’t live that long, what can I do?" "I will help you." Zohar said. "The ability to live forever is not controlled by your body, but those of others. By taking control of other bodies, you can survive throughout the ages, and finally, be with her again." "You can give this to me?" Lacan replied. "Yes." said Zohar, and in addition, I will let you get even with this cruel world. So, do you want the power?"

And Lacan said…


The End