Common Worlds

Disorientation, darkness, then a grayish light and the crowding presence of innumerable voices and eyes. They speak as one, filling your mind, your very essence. They are inside you, and know you better than you do.

You were born of a fraction of the power of our family. But we are more and you must be more.

You trust in your intellect. But where is your wisdom?

You count yourself loyal, our willing tool. But we are not in need of a servant.

Our household is rudderless, without direction. It is a ship pushed before whatever wind hits it.

Such ships end up riding the doom currents down to darkness. That must not be the fate of our house.

Do not trust in your skill. Trust in planning. Trust in preparation.

Discern. Lead. Follow only if another proves by blood and deed to be your better.

You have been cocky, foolish and impudent. You are mortal, made of the same clay as all men.

Like men, you have been made by the actions of your family. Like all men, you have choices in what you may become.

Choose to be prepared. Choose to be wise. Choose to lead.

You are filled with a profound terror as you hear the last three lines from the ancient family voices. Tears of fear and grief over how you have disappointed them rush down your face. You realize how you have failed your makers, and the hard path ahead, and that you are lying in dark on cold, wet rocky ground with the mournful sound of the River of Tears behind you.