The vortex of black sand collapsed with a hiss, leaving me sprawled on the obsidian dunes with a ragged breath. My arm, grazed by the desert beast, pulsed with a warm, tingling sensation as mana wove the torn flesh back together faster than any healing spell I had ever cast. I stared at the wound, watching the skin knit together with an eerie golden thread. This was a sign that the magic of this world ran deeper than I'd imagined. Above me, the three moons loomed, their blue veined surfaces glowing with an otherworldly hum.
But one, the Eclipse Moon, with a dark, swirling abyss for a face fixed on me with a gaze that burned into my soul. A voice, not spoken but felt, crashed through my mind like a tidal wave: "You are chosen, Simon Moonshade. Blessed Incarnation of the Eclipse Moon in the Human World."
The title seared into me, a brand I couldn't shake. Blessed Incarnation? Me?
The sand beneath me trembled, rising in rhythmic waves that vibrated up my legs,a melody I could feel more than hear. I pressed a hand to the ground, and the vibrations sharpened into a haunting chorus of three distinct songs, each from a moon, weaving together like threads of an ancient tapestry. The hum of the Eclipse Moon was the deepest, a resonant bass that tugged at my chest and promised power beyond mortal limits.
Legends from my old life flickered in my memory whispers of the Triad Moons, celestial guardians said to have guided the first mages before the Shattering, a cataclysm that divided this realm's history. Was this their song?
Before I could unravel the thought, the air split with a crystalline crack. A rift shimmered before me, its edges glinting like fractured starlight.
The Cosmic Conclave of the Voidspire emerged from it: three towering figures wreathed in shifting nebulae, their forms a dance of shadow and dust. Their leader, Zorythax, a being of fractured light with eyes like twin supernovas, stepped forward. His voice rolled out, blending the growl of thunder with the caress of silk. Each word was a masterpiece that resonated in my bones.
"Simon Moonshade," Zorythax intoned, "you stand as the Eclipse's vessel. Long ago, the Primordial Harmonist, our sibling, fell to the Voidspire's chaos. Its essence splintered into the Triad Moons. Your silence tunes their discord, a gift born of your crossing into death. Will you bind their songs to restore the old order, or shall the Voidspire reclaim this fractured land?"
My mind reeled. There was no voice to argue, only thought. I projected my will into the ether, and the words formed with a clarity that surprised me. "Why me? What's the cost?" The question hung in the air, sharp as a ritual dagger, cutting through their grandeur.
Zorythax's gaze softened, a star winking out. "The cost is your humanity, mortal. The Eclipse demands a conduit; your soul will anchor its rebirth. Refuse, and the songs will fracture this world as they did when the Shattering birthed the Obsidian Wastes. The choice is yours."
Veylra of the Shattered Star and Klyon of the Waning Orbit loomed behind him.
Veylra's form flickered like a dying constellation and her voice was like a whisper of lost winds. "The Wastes were once a cradle for the Harmonists' children, beings of sand and song. Now they are dust." Klyon, his silhouette a fading orbit, added, "Your presence stirs their echoes.
Bind us, or they will rise to consume."
I felt the Eclipse Moon's song swell within me, a power begging to be shaped. The sand around me danced and formed a shimmering barrier as the Conclave tested me with a surge of void energy, a dark tendril that hissed against my makeshift shield. My thought-magic held, though my head throbbed like a drumbeat. "I'll bind them," I projected, "but on my terms. I won't lose myself to your Eclipse."
Zorythax's lips curled in a gesture that was both approving and ominous. "So be it. Begin the Symphony." The moons aligned, their songs merging into a deafening chord that shook the dunes. Mana coursed through me like a river of starlight and shadow as the essence of the Eclipse Moon fused with my soul. I became its Blessed Incarnation, a bridge between human frailty and divine will. My thoughts now echoed with celestial resonance. The sand sang back, its grains aligning into patterns of runes in a forgotten language, perhaps the Harmonist's own.
But harmony is a fragile thing. The chord faltered, and a discordant note sliced through the air. The ground split open with a groan, and the sky fractured like a mirror shattered by a hammer. Each shard revealed a new terrain: jagged, crimson cliffs veined with molten gold; floating islands of crystal in a violet haze; and a sea of shimmering quicksilver under a blood-red sun. The multiverse bled through, born from the instability of the Symphony.
My body trembled, then shattered. I felt myself splinter into echoes, each fragment pulled into a different shard. One Simon stood on a cliff's edge, the wind howling with the scent of sulfur. Another floated above a crystal isle, its surface humming with trapped voices. A third sank into a quicksilver sea whose surface rippled with memories not my own. My consciousness stretched thin, a web of glass threads connecting these selves. A final thought pierced the chaos: Where am I now?
The Cosmic Conclave's laughter echoed and faded into the void as the shards drifted apart.
The last image I saw was of a figure cloaked in quicksilver. Its eyes reflected my fragmented face before the glass darkened. I was left adrift in an endless expanse.