The Thirty-First Entry

 Hate and anger. Violence and vengeance. Revenge. 

Terms that could personify the feelings that coursed through my body when I first entered meditation. The difficulty of repressing these feelings, however, was its uncertainty. Knowing where the source of these feelings came from was the question. It was uncontrollable without it.

I questioned for some time, not knowing for how long, if perhaps these truly were my own feelings. My experience at the Graveyard, however, had enlightened me to some truths. I was not the first Dark Lord the Obelisk had tasked with its charge. Many had come before me, and many had perished at the Graveyard. Was it a test? Or was I meant to expire like them?

The Obelisk had some means to produce Dark Lords, that much I could conclude. It would explain my own past, or lack thereof. Like a shell that needed filling, or one that required molding. But why Dark Lords? Why create us? Simply to enact its expansion?

My mind wandered to my encounter at the Graveyard. The being I encountered in that vision had to be a Dark Lord, but something felt different about them. My mind seemed to ache remembering that one – too much surrounded him and too little could I remember, like a veil that I could only peek through. There had to be another reason for the Obelisk’s production of Dark Lords.

Through these wandering thoughts, the anger would return and so too the voices. Suppressing it would take some time, and again my mind wandered. It became painfully obvious then. I was wrong about the voices. At the time, I believed they were another thread of the Obelisk, the tendrils of its influence made manifest - yet at times they had felt closer.

The rage was mine and yet not mine. Myself, and not myself. The process of creating a Dark Lord apparently had either its intended effect, or unintended. How many trillions were harvested to create me? All of them crying out in agony as they were grafted together and then turned into another. Trying to escape their entanglement – yet my being caging them.

I couldn’t understand, however, why the Obelisk would allow them to retain a part of themselves. Why make them suffer? It was beyond cruel. There were still too many questions.

It was then that I could finally understand the voices. Their incoherence finally shaping only one word: “Revenge.”

This is the source of the rage. Who or what did they seek revenge on? I questioned. No answer came. I could only conclude that the Obelisk was what they sought vengeance upon.

“I need more time, but I will deliver to you revenge. This I swear.” I said.

The rage subsided slowly. The voices satisfied with my answer for now.

I had to go. It was time to return to where it all started.

I had almost forgotten what it was like to have a body, my limbs heavy and tight. As my eyes opened so too did the darkness lift away.