If there was hope, if there was light, if there was love in all the worlds, it paled...
The priest did not move. He did not respond to her touch, to her plea. He did not hear.
If there was hope....
He found himself in a maze of columns. They each cast a long, dark and impenetrable shadow. Common sense spoke of avoidance, that to touch those shadows was to lose himself. And so he wove his way around them, but the darkness seemed to twist, to follow him. At the center was a clearing, free of the columns. No, not columns. Trees. And in the center of that clearing, those dark shadows turned to meet one another. There was no passage through, and he paused at the edge.
If there was light...
A sudden spark of light formed, rising up from the darkness and beginning to attract more, to draw the light closer, clothing itself in sparks and fairy fire until it was the only source of light. Everything else faded.
If there was love in all the worlds...
The light was blinding, and yet Tra found he need not look away. In fact, he found that he could not avert his eyes from the starfire form before him. As he watched, the form gained shadow and substance, became more than an icon, became real. A youthful face, as old as being. Soft white hair, a benevolent smile, and bathed in unrelenting light. This was Gohdem, this was Creation.
It paled. For Light without dark is just as blinding as Dark without light, and one cannot see the true face of the gods without knowing first despair and rising to hope.
The priest hesitated. He could not find words. How was he here? He knew... he remembered dying. He was certain it had happened. Death for him had been no ambiguous event. It had been present and sure of itself. But this knowledge wasn't yet concrete. Tra found it hard to speak, found that here, before the god he so revered, words fled. Thankfully, Gohdem spoke. The silence was broken by a voice that was at once melodious and terrifying, soothing and cacophonous.
"Tra'eve Deleshanda... my child. You've found your way to me at last. I had hoped you would do so sooner, and perhaps under better circumstances."
The silence stretched for a moment. The black that pooled around Tra's feet wasn't destroying him, and in fact went unnoticed in such presence as Gohdem's. Tra sought words and found them.
"Are you not all knowing? I had thought..."
"There are the things we know and the things we Know. The paths of the world are in flux. I had hoped you might walk the path that would find you in my court more gently. Even gods can hope. We are, after all, wrought from hope. But, that is not important at the moment. Tell me, Tra'eve. Why did you avoid my shadows?"
The question shocked him, nearly sending him reeling back.
"Your shadows?! But are they not entropy? Are they not that which will devour all? Are they not death?"
In response, Gohdem's hands flashed out. In each was a sword. The right hand held a sword of shimmering starscapes, dotted with comets and galaxies. The left held a blade of utmost black, of starless night. Tra's eyes widened. Those swords, he knew them. How could he not?
"You see and hear the messages of the Gods. And yet, your humility does not allow you to see their proper meaning, priest. To be humble is to be great, but to shoulder such humility that you cannot look up for the burden, that only makes you blind." The deity slowly extended the swords. "But now, I shall explain. For we have little time together, and I must be brief."
"The swords are the Blades of Potential. Though one is full of life and the other holds none, the meaning is sung in what they WILL be." Slowly, the stars started to burst, red giants expanding, yellow suns becoming brown dwarfs. On the other blade, a tiny point of light slid into view. For a bare instant, it was the only light on the entire blade. Then, everywhere, light! An explosion of brilliance upon the tapestry of black steel. "When all lives, the only potential left is entropy. But it is necessary. Without entropy, things cannot change. However, too much too fast and the only potential is the end of things. However, once all is ended, it is not final. Potential renews. Life, energy. These are the new potential. And thus, from darkness, from the deepest depths of despair, springs life.
"This is the power you wield. The power of life. The power of new beginnings, of hope."
"And Namir wields that of destruction, death, entropy."
"No. That power can only truly be wielded by one who understands life, as the power of life can only fully be wielded by one who has died. Almeria is the true holder of the sword of Chaos, as you are the wielder of the Sword of Light. They dwell within you. Namir can only ever hope to control Almeria enough to hold the blades."
"But then, Namir's power..."
"When you realize your potential, and she her freedom. When you truly work as one, then Namir is powerless."