This is just something I wrote quickly because I had an idea and wanted to see where it could go. I'm not entirely sure what I want to do with this, but I think the most likely thing I'll do with it it turn it into some sort of epic fantasy novel or novella. I'd appreciate any comments anyone has.
A voice calls to me from the dark. It whispers of freedom and of liberty, and of pain and regret. I do my best to ignore it lest it lead me from my duty. It speaks of sacrifice and of a life lost. Its words are true, and yet its message false. The whispering never ceases. When I retire from my duty at the day's end it is there, whispering. When I sleep it invades my dreams, whispering of a better life, a life of my own choosing. When I awaken it is still there, whispering all the while.
I am Khatat. I am the Watcher, the One Who Waits, the Lone Guardian. It has been so for centuries, and will be so until the Coming of the End, when the voice escapes from its prison to devour me whole and bring forth its reign of darkness. Then the world will end, and we will all meet our Oblivion.
Or so the Scrolls foretell. I do not believe Oblivion will come. But still I stand my lonely guard. I do this because I am the beacon, the signal, that the End is Coming; with my death the scholars will learn of the voice and its escape, and they can fight against Oblivion.
I am the Sacrifice. There are three, it was foretold; there is the Sacrifice, who will signal the Coming of the End; there is the Hero, who will put up a futile resistance to the Third; and there is the Voice, who will bring Oblivion to the world.
My role is known to me. It could not be otherwise, for the ancestors saw long ago that the Sacrifice must be willing. I was to give up my life for a duty spanning ages, all in the service of a prophecy.
And so it is that I live an unnatural life, a life extended beyond all others by magics I do not understand. I do not feel as if I am truly here, most days, and yet … and yet I must be, for I can hear and see and touch and smell, and most of all I can hear the voice.
I wonder sometimes if I have gone mad. It would not surprise me. I have been alone for so long. Empires have risen and fallen in the world and I have lived through them all, my only company the voice that is to bring Oblivion.
My world is one of darkness and solitude, and I long for the End. I can feel it coming, deep inside my bones. The voice can, too. It speaks now of its own freedom more each day, but I do not fear it. It is welcome.