Through Soul, Through Mind

The wind howled through the leaves of the trees like a roar of the ocean, carrying the smell of sulfur from the distant volcano. As Osiangli continued to wade through this marsh he tilted his head up, just enough to see the glowing brim of the slightly active volcano. It was well into the first leg of his journey, traversing the sacred swamps where everything had symbolism and where his mind would split, like a shattered mirror, many perspectives, all part of one body. As he trudged through the brush and entered a small patch of land it started.


A stay bolt of lightning struck next to him, the smell of burned wood filled his nose, and as the smell grew his senses dulled, and then it hit him.

Everything was muffled, his sight, his hearing, his touch, his smelling. The world distoted and grew slowly bright as the stars merged into a single carpet of not-so-distant light. They involoped him, they were the spirits.

As he wondered at them in awe Osiangli was no longer Osiangli, he was a menagerie of people, all living in one body. If was time to fix himself.

It was all white around them, and though they could all see it, they all thought it different things.

First his eldest part spoke. We are being split into our threads by the spirit-gods spoke the traditional one, valuing his tribe's and species' beliefs and customs.

Next was the scientist, the curious voice using reasoning and collected information to answer his questions. It must've been the sulfur we were smelling mixed with that burning wood to create a psychotic effect said he.

The defender just watched on. He was a wrrior that would fight with his life to protect those he cared for, but as usual there was nothing worth fighting.

The tortured cowered looking for protection. Always looking for an out or a way to help only itself.

Finally came the paranoid, the most devious of all, but through manipulating each it became the hardest to get rid of. It whispered to each if them, trying to use them to help him accuse an enemy.

Then the mountain of voices arose, thousands of lesser selves, each governed by the main ones. They were going to make an important decision for the whole of Osiangli before they were merged into one. What voice dies tonight?