he sat cross legged

He sat cross legged in the secret basement of the derelict ruins of a once mighty institution. Birds chartered above, unaware of the power of this place. Maybe they felt it. Maybe they didn’t care. But for the first time in his life, he saw. He saw clearly all that he had never seen. He saw the man in the cavern, he saw the chess players. He sensed a power above. Watching. Not of this earth. Also of this earth. Three sparks of celestials. 

He sat cross legged in the basement. His eyes were closed. He let his mind drift, watching the traffic of his thoughts. A bystander on a busy highway.

He sat cross legged. His eyes were closed. And yet, he saw now more than he had ever seen before. He saw the shadow rajah. He had felt the tremor. And unlike the first one, he recognized this for what it was. Because now, he had the sight. The stone had crackled through him, shown him the past, the present, the future. He was all-seeing.

He sat cross legged. Weight pressing down on the dusty floor. Particles of dust suspending in the air, which was thick and ripe with power. All those currents he had felt throughout his life. All coursing through him and of him. He knew where the source was. And it stood rooted nearby. Pulsating with purple power. He was guided by it. To see. What he had not seen before.

Hūr Amran sat rooted to the floor. He saw all. Above all, he saw Aqlimia. She was in the country. She had been the first tremor. She was trudging ever closer to him. He closed his eyes and smiled. When he opened them, his eyes flickered with a purple glow. He smiled.

Aqlimia, oh Aqlimia. He had always felt empty. Incomplete. This was the puzzle piece. And on the other side of the board was the shadow rajah. He could see him prowling the streets of the old city. The one with twelve gates. Looking for food. It was evening. The rajah felt a presence watching him, and looked directly at hūr. He was shaken out of his reverie. A little fearstruck.

Long deep breaths, his body throbbing with the cackling electric power in the air. The stone seemed to smile at him, light glitzing off of its purple pulsating veins. He smiled back.

The mansion was derelict, ivy creeping up its walls. Animals knew to give it a wide berth. They might fly over it. But only above a certain height. Not lower. They might scavenge in the grounds. But not too close. Those that did, they knew from experience and lore. Those that did, they were lost forever.

The mansion waited, looking sad and forlorn. Looking for the time it would be inhabited again. That time might not come. Looking for its next victim. Two were on the way. One would be lost to it. The other would fight. Little did they know.

Hūr sat and waited. Master of the mansion.