Wayward

[Tobias]

"I am not afraid to die today, nor am I afraid of what death will bring." It was a chant he was familiar with - Sacrifice for the betterment of everyone else: to be willing to give one's life for what is right.
Fulfillment.
He was raised by Ezekiel Reaver, the second carrier of the Machine, the sword that held the power of silence. He would be the next, but he would be the one that would reveal it's true power.
To become God is to die and be reborn. He had been reborn elsewhere. It had followed him here. The faces began to have names, but they made no sense - they didn't seem to sound like anything he recognized. Names like Timothy, Mitchell or Fayron. He knew who they were, what they did, but most importantly, how they died.
It was because of him.
The world slowly became dark, and it began - the Great Silence.
So long ago did nothing exist, and from that nothing, something emerged. It was through that something that Chaos was born, and from Chaos was everything. The world formed and from the world were the trees and the rocks, the rivers and oceans and lakes. Slowly the trees began to bear fruit and spread, and the fruit begat more nature, until the first beings of life came to be. From them came them, and finally him. From him, the silence spread, and slowly reclaimed what was rightfully theirs.
He was the point of no return.
The world began to go dark and it began - the Great Silence. Shadows crept over the streets and trees. The people drew their swords, loaded their guns and bore their shields against that which they could never comprehend - the force that was mother to them: a force that had no shape, no size, no magnitude.
It just was.
And as it consumed, people just disappeared. Disappeared until only he was left, the son of Ezekiel Reaver - but by then, Ezekiel Reaver was no longer important. He didn't exist. What could exist in a world where existance was consumed indefinitely? The faces lost their names, for the names weren't important.
But something drove him to claw at it - to claw at the emptiness around him, until something tore in front of him, and he fell through, and opened his eyes. It stood there waiting for him, ready to tell him his name. A part of him died, and from that death came a rebirth Slowly, the faces and the shapes made sense in his head - he had been there the whole time: but who was he?

"Your name is Tobias Reaver."

Tobias opened his eyes and saw rubble. The man in his arms was out cold, but safe none-the-less. He sat up and heard the moans of people badly hurt by the sudden pain that swept across the city of Arath. He stood up for only a moment, when he felt his head and body run cold, and his limbs give out on him. He hit the ground with a crash, and at that moment, Tobias Reaver was sound asleep.

[Tobias]

"And thus begins the cycle anew."

Tobias could hear his father from the stairs. He was eight, and as his memory could remember, his home wasn't very big at all. His family lived quietly and in solitude, his father occasionally leaving with his trusty sword at his side. His mother was always working on something in the house, whether it be cleaning, fixing or cooking. She had fire-red hair that always called attention to her. Tobias always remembered the features of her face being so different from his father.

Tobias wished he could follow his father one night. He always dreamed of the adventures his father would take as a Vagrant - to the mountians of Dar and Iula, to the flowing plains of Banthia and the cities of Tyr and Regin.

Yet, they were all only stories: since the first day he rested in a crib, Ezekial Reaver always told stories to his son, for he knew that one day his son would follow in his footsteps, and in those footsteps he would hold the balance of the world. Thus was the way of a Vagrant.

And in that moment, the house was no longer his, but the home of Darius, who spoke to a man in dark robes. A man who was known as Morias Draksong. Tobias rested his head against the banister and listened to Morias' low voice, which filled his head and sent chills down his spine. How he spoke of a man who followed him, and how he spoke of a man who had begun a dark reign.

And in that moment, Tobias was no longer on land, but at sea. He watched the waves crash against the hull of the very ship he would ride in to war - a war which still loomed ten years forth. It was on that ship that he first heard the story of the Great Silence, and from none other than his own father. He heard the lore that dictated that one day, he could no longer exist - that he was born of creation, and one day creation will have it's time to face judgement.

And as Tobias peered into his father's eyes, the room flew away, leaving only the mountain top and his father, poised over him, blade still in hand. The blade of the machine - Machina, its gears turning and the blade red-hot with rage. His father's eyes were empty, and looking into them, Tobias saw something he could never imagine.

Nothingness.

The blade rested in his hand, and his father lay bloodied on the ground. The lightning cracked and lit the sky, and only thunder echoed in Tobias' mind. He knew he had battled, but he never knew how. His hand was still tight on the strange hilt of Machina - the hilt that his father had fashioned when he was but eight years old. The hilt that would always remind him that Eden was borne of the machine.

"And thus begins the cycle anew," he heard, and behind him was a young woman, small in stature but beautiful beyond compare. Her eyes were silver-lined and iridescent, and her hair was long and dark. She looked meek, yet power reeked from her every pore. She came closer and held Tobias close, whispering in his ear.
"...but for you, young Tobias, a different future you hold."

The woman was gone, and so too was everything around him. He loomed in darkness, tumbling and falling, never finding the bottom where he knew that everything would end.

If the bottom crushed him, and gravity delivered him to a greater plane
If he would meet it, for he would with joy.
And happiness.
And no regrets.
He had no regrets. Save for everything he would end up destroying.
For the bloodshed and the meaningless slaughter.
For he was a Reaver, and with that blood came life.
And Death.

If everything would just end.

Tobias' eyes blew open. He shot up, out of breath and drenched in a cold sweat. His chest felt tight, and he couldn't see very far. His hand felt down his chest, fingering what looked like a bandage, and as his eyes found a window, he saw the moon high in the sky. He looked to his side and saw a bed next to him, occupied by none other than Damion.

His breath began to come back, and his wits slowly settled. He looked about the room and noticed nothing in particular, save for some food and water set up between him and Damion. Putting his hand on his head, he felt another bandage tight around his brow, crusted with dried blood. He searched his thoughts and tried to rediscover what had happened; why it had happened; how he ended up in that bed. Tobias didn't see his clothes anywhere, and wondered where his sword was. He was practically naked and weaponless, and furthermore, he had no idea where he was.