The Last Gate

A fitting end, perishing in such an aptly named place.  I had hoped to catch Mr. Verone.  My final request would have been that he give my seat at his table to my beloved Kekah, without whom I never would've had a place there myself.  The consequence of my vanity came for me too soon, however, and there I fell, lonely and empty.  Would that I might have dreamed passionately and led a life of purpose, that I would not have died a spoiled, ingrateful son of hedonism and apathy.

I heard a child's voice, calling from beyond the veil that I could see in the last moment with such perfect clarity.  I wondered how I could've missed it all the years of my life--a curtain of smoke, or perhaps something more ethereal, flowing gracefully in every direction, holding me spellbound with its myriad patterns that seemed to spell destiny in a script both foreign and familiar.  Little did I notice that this wisp between the worlds had come to rend my soul from my body, for the voice spoke my name, and I longed to follow it.

"Norrin!  Welcome home, Norrin."

My questions clung to the fringe of my imagination:  Who is this voice?  How does it know me?  Where am I being taken?  A miniature hand grasped my wrist and pulled me into the swirling mists that severed me from my mortality.  For a moment, I thought the sea of smoke might drown me, yet the broad smile that greeted me comforted my soul even as the reality of my death consumed me.  Glancing over my shoulder, I thought perhaps I would see my remains and the people tending to them, but no such vision presented itself.

As the vast dreamscape of the universe unfolded before me, peace consumed me as though it were a tangible thing, a warm blanket to shelter me during this walk amongst the shadows.  I realized that I knew the voice, though I had never met the child.

James.