Sorry for disappearing. Blame Skyrim and ASOIAF… ;D
Egads! One more after this!
Isolation in this manner wasn't quite what he'd had in mind. The years of quiet dread, the simmering tension slowly percolating under the surface, and then the sudden, violent uprising were behind him now. He should be at peace, but he wasn't. The bitterness and intolerance had not yet been put to rest, and the wisps of hatred seemed to flow through the borders of the Veil to bind him here. He could not move on.
He had always wondered about the passion, the intensity of the hatred directed towards his brothers and sisters. Was it simply a lack of knowledge? Lack of education? Was it close-minded religious rhetoric? Or did it all boil down to human nature, and the innate tendency to fear anything perceived to be more powerful than they? Not everyone he'd met had been consumed by intolerance; sadly, it only took one fanatic to cause others to take up arms, rising in defense or condemnation. As long as there were demons, spirits, mages, and religious zealotry, there would always be conflict as history has proven time and time again. The realization saddened him.
Though a great part of his life had been spent on developing self-discipline and emotional self-control, there were far too many of his kind who lived their lives differently. He had found the simplest approach to fellowship in being kind, honest, generous, and strong for one another. Alas, the simplest way was often the most difficult, so it became the path least tread upon. To be sure, in his youth he'd seen the world as black and white, but age had changed his vision, exposing the overlapping shades of grey. And now he was just an observer, helpless in his imprisonment.
The Veil trembled and twisted as the rage built up and swelled from the city known as Kirkwall. Did the Chantry truly think the Maker would return to grace His children with His presence when such friction and hostility continued unabated, carried out in His name? Did they think Andraste would open Her arms to those spewing their twisted, corrupted words? How many more would be sacrificed before Her children chose to listen for Her Song, rather than create a version to suit their own needs?
He could feel the demonic forces swirling all around him. Screeching laughter and waves of vitriolic energy heralded another lost soul, another abomination born. He closed his eyes and shuddered with revulsion. The influence of the demons grew because of the antipathy and avarice; the loathing and longings of all the people, not just the mages.
In life he had not been alone in his dream of a unified world, one where all were equal, all considered to be children of the Maker. Those who shared his dream, unfortunately, were usually the quietest of the group. And now in death, trapped here in the Fade, very few could hear him. Even fewer remembered what he had once stood for: peace.
Niall prayed the quiet ones would learn to speak, before it was too late for them all.
My thanks to: Ygrain33, Shakespira, mutive, ChampionTheWonderSnail, interesting2125, Lehni, unknown reviewer (x 2), Abydos Jackson, JayRain, Reyavie, Enaid Aderyn and Kendoka Girl (x 2)!