Truth?

Funny thing. The Lies. Lies about Black and White, no, wait, grow up, it's shades. Don't even start on Shades of Grey. Classify things. Classify the way things are classified. Get programmed, told how to think? That's The Lie. It's not about Either Or, or Compromise. There are Many Truths, and Many Lies.

An Illusionist will tell you a Lie about the Truth, or the Truth about a Lie. Is an apple round? Is it still round if it's cut in half? What about only seeing one half? Wait -- 'an' apple, right? Not 'this' apple. These are all Lies. These are all Truths. Having to choose? That was the Lie.

It was true he had killed the bonsai. Water, yo. It's totally A Thing.

Just Matter now? Maybe. Used to be alive. Now it's dead. Firewood. Furniture. Does it remember? Does it have more than one Truth?

An Angel could suck the Good Stuff out of it, or shatter it with Lightning. Easy Tower. Five Towers. Ten Truths. For now. He was friendly with the Crypt Tower. With that, he could reshape it -- but that wasn't all that Tower could do. Stop. See it. See what it was, and is. Look. Closely. The Shadow it casts. Listen to the sad, longing cry for the lost Life. Smell the musty decay. Feel the coldness. Taste the void of nourishment.

Reach into Stygia. Don't push. Power is a Lie. Reach sideways. Not that familiar flow, but the cold, alien one. The one that chills, and lead into the gloaming. Follow. Dead things know. Use the power to slip and slide into the flow.

He shivered.

Cold and wispy dark threads that pulled as much as they flowed, moaned and whispered as they opened his eyes.



Death is everywhere
There are flies on the windscreen, for a start
Reminding us
We could be torn apart, tonight