The Trials of Camah

I awaken to the an acidic smell filling my nose. It burns my nostrils, and it is reminiscent of something in my past. I struggle with the memory. I can't pull it from the fog in my mind. The only thing I remember is a face. Or more so her hair. Always changing. From brown, to pink, to blond, blue, and then flipping between purple and red. Her hair always changing, as if to tease my memory of her. As if to say who am I?

Now that is question I should be asking. Who Am I? Am I this woman in my mind. No I am male. I feel a connection with her. I feel love; yet it has changed. Become more distance more lonely. A love turned into loneliness what has happened here.... what has happened to me. This vision of beauty with her ever changing hair, and her eyes speaking volumes of hope for the future. Regardless of what happened; this memory brings a much needed smile to my face. A hard truth discovered; yet still uncovered still buried deep in my mind. I try to save as much as I can of the memory, but it starts to fade. I try to pull the beauty back. I try to force the image into my mind but it slips. I am left with only the ever changing hair.

The dark gloom of my prison cell, and the smell of something.... something familiar. The smell horrible as it is reminds me of my home. A flash memory bursts into my mind. Burning. Burning. Burning. My house... my home it is being turned to ash. People look on; uncaring, as they walk by hand in hand.

I snap fingers an summon a ball of light. It illuminates the small room.  I see dirty and dust covered stones which are laid unevenly to shape my small prison cell. The sunlight has never touched these stones since they have been placed here. The stones are dead. Placed by their brick layer never to move never to see the sun again. There is no door, no window, and no access of any kind. How did I get here? Who am I? Why me? Why have I been placed in this cramped, gloomy place. To be forgotten forever? To be punished for something I am not even aware of?

The ball of light spins and twirls around me. Its only desire to serve me. Its love for me unconditional as it brings light into the room, as it breaths life into my soul. I begin to check the stones on wall. I being to check for some small button some kind of lever. Anything! Anything to get me out of here. Who am I? The question repeats and repeats itself in my mind. Growing ever louder, growing ever faster. Faster and faster louder and louder the question beats into me. Finally I can take it no more. If I have no name than I shall name myself. I am Nidglonous.

A scraping sound fills the air, as stone on stone moves grindingly slow. Dust fills the still air, and a passage way opens. The beauty in my mind smiles. Her changes to pink, and short cropped. I begin to walk into the passage way. The hallway has more even stones, and they are even somewhat clean. Someone cares about this area. Someone has been here before. As I walk through the hallway torches begin to light themselves, and I walk towards the stair case. It winds around and around. At the top I see for the first time in far to long; sunlight peaking through what looks like clouds. I get closer to the window. I can stick my head out of the window, and I look down. I would never survive such a drop. I look up and the tower seems to go on forever. What I thought were clouds are really smog. Industrial City. I remember this place. I remember this smell.

This has to be the Tower of Camah. Why have the wizards brought me back here. I have already passed their tests, as the memory of my release comes back to me. This must be another test. I have never heard of this kind of test before. They have taken almost everything that makes me who I am. I have to remake myself? Was I not good enough before?

My ball of light finally dies. Never knowing more then its desire to fill my sight with light. Never knowing more then its unconditional love for me. I continue my way up the stair case, and it leads to a single door. I push the heavy wooden door open. Its hinges have been rusted for some time. Who ever cares for these stones cares little for the metal in the door. The door opens and it reveals a large room. A fire place burns quietly to my left. A pot of stew boils over top, and a bowl is in the center of the room.

Questions flood my mind. These are the wizards of Camah everything that comes from them is a test. What is this bowl's true purpose. Will it feed me,or will it destroy me even more. Her hair becomes long and purple, and a frown fills her face. I walk cautiously up to the bowl in the middle of the room. My fingers wave and flick themselves into the pattern of insight. I look into the bowl, and I see nothing. Strange so symbolic is the bowl to me. Exactly in the center of the room. The room seems smaller. It is smaller. The room is shrinking. I try to calm myself. Years of training going down the drain. As I struggle to find the pattern that will dispel this rooms enchantment. Nothing is working, and I have tried everything that they have taught me.

As hope drains anger fills my soul. The fire shrinks. How could they. These wizards, these charlatans. They said they would teach me all that they know. Yet here I am unable to complete this test. Unable to do anything. Nidglonous what stupid name. How could I have chosen such a weak and useless name? The fire shrinks.  This time I catch the meaning. This is a room hope. This is a test of hope. Her hair changes to blond, as she laughs. Hope. Hope for what? Hope for the future. I have no past, but I will have a future. The test makes sense. I grab the bowl from the center of the shrinking room. Walk over to the boiling pot of stew, and feed myself. I sustain myself, as I confirm my hope for the future. My hope that I will learn more then has be taught to me. My hope that I will find my home again. The fire erupts turning pink, purple, red and blue. The flames consume the pot. Her eyes gaze into me. Her hair changing so fast so much like the flames before me. I walk confidently into the fire.

White stones perfectly placed in rows and columns form the hallway before me. Massive bonfires of every color imaginable line each side of the hallway. The hall seems to go on for ever. I walk, and walk, and walk. I walk so far that the fires begins to repeat themselves. In my mind her hair turns purple. This hallway is looping I think to myself. What is the test? I examine the closest fire. Its flames a delightful vermilion. The next fire is green, and the one after it is blue. What is the test? I begin to sort every color I have seen. Perhaps there is a color that is excluded. No not a color, but a shade. There is no black flame, and no white flame. I know how to create each fire, but which one to choose. I can create only one at a time, and I am sure that which ever one I choose will be my answer to this question. What is the question?

Every fire so many colors. Her hair so many colors. In my mind her eyes sparkle with delight. White or Black. That is the question. To hide or to reveal. To include or exclude. White light creates all color. Yet when you draw all color become black. Am I a creator or a describer. I know the answer, as it is instilled in my very being. I created a name for myself, as I created hope in my mind. I am Nidglonous a White Wizard of Camah.

I am teleported to the top of the tower. There stands a Vermilion Sage, and Picnous. Picnous smiles his teeth beaming white, as he hands me my staff. The Sage, a creator of love, asks me the final question. Who is she? She was my hope, and my desire. She was my future, and my love. She is what was. Now I am all. Now I am free. The Sage smiles and gives me his blessing.

Picnous an I turn to Industrial City. We raise our staffs high into the high into the smog filled sky. We are beyond movements of the hand we are beyond incantation of words and phrases. We are white wizards creators of what we want to make. Magic crackles in the air, as power floods through us and into the sky above. The smog clears. The sun shines on Industrial City for the first time since she remade herself. The sky clears, but the smog continues to pour out of the chimneys of her industrial complex.

Father Light looks down, and is amused.

The High Druid sensing a weakness for the first time in far to long. Sends his trees to war.