Prologue - A Garden of Stone Flowers
From Reydala
"Welcome to the Garden" the man in front of me spoke eloquently, a beaming smile on his face in the shadow of his dark cloaks. His hair was brown, straight and slightly unkempt, but there was a welcoming aura around him that I have grown fond of over time. He stood in front of a circular, smooth, limestone building no bigger than a gazebo. The surrounding grounds spanned out for miles all around us, hills and valleys, cliffs and plains, all were covered by beautiful flowers. No flower was the same as any other, only their colors showed any great similarities. Their colors were of no other flowers that I knew, some were white, some where black, but the vast majority of them were a pale shade of gray, stems and all. Looking out over that field of flowers it was like looking upon an ocean of mercury. The stone paths that crisscrossed the fields were narrow but well kept, a sign of the gardener's devotion.
"Much has happened since your last visit, many new seeds are growing... I hope it all will be to your satisfaction. Please, come this way." Though his words were chosen in worry, his tone was confident, even boastful. He stepped in front of me, and continued onward away from the stone building. The sound of his footsteps seemed to echo infinitely in this realm that was so silent and abandoned aside from us.
I waited a moment, staring into that endless sea of gray, and then chose to follow silently. He did not look back to witness my decision, but merely continued to step forward slowly and confidently. As we walked I looked to the flowers that framed the path at our feet. Some were almost perfect in the symmetry of their petals, others were more irregular, some having more than one blossom of varying sizes and shapes. The petals ranged from the soft, gentle, and curved petals of a rose to the sharp, jagged and spined petals you might find on a flower growing in an inhospitable jungle. This was a very old section of the garden, and I remembered many of the blossoms here from previous visits. I bowed my head along the path and closed my eyes, following the steady clicking of my gardener's feet. The memories of this garden are very painful, both in my mind and in the minds of the souls that lived in all of these blossoms.
I saw a particular flower, a blackened and spined flower that seemed to rise above any other nearby it in defiance. I stopped there, putting my hand over my heart. This blossom, I knew this blossom. It was so long ago, but the memories of the tears I cried for this blossom could never be swept away by the march of time. I stared at this blossom, and it seemed to look back at me with hatred and accusation. The memories of this garden are very painful.
"Shall we begin here?..." I heard my gardener speak again, breaking me from the vision of my past. I turned my gaze toward his eyes, that were looking toward me with sympathy.
"He is...?" I spoke weakly, unable to find the words.
"Yes.. I preserved his spirit, and brought it here. Many others were trying to gain control of it at the time of his death..."
I nodded softly, wondering what kind of being could ever hope to try and control him as I once had. My gardener gestured, and the flower rose from the ground, coming to my hands. The blossom was painful to hold, due to the many thorns that covered its stem, but I grasped it without hesitation. I winced and closed my eyes, partly from the sting of the stone cutting into me, and partly due to the the sorrowful visions about to overtake me.
The last thing I heard was the call of my gardener in front of me, speaking deliberately as he clasped his hands over mine, surrounding the flower: "Speak, flower of stone, and live forever in the memories of those that hear your story..."
