|"Whomever you are,
may you learn from
|The Eclipse passed quietly; a day when the moons block out their own shadows and bathe the
world in red-light. It was quietly observed, a sombre feeling felt by onlookers, as the reminder of
Rekura's Curse stretched across the lands. For Slayers and Executioners, it was a day spent
within the safety of the Border. For others, it was just another day - except, when it was anything
For those who tempted fate and brought life into the world on this day, they found their young
born already marked by the Curse. Black symbols etched on their youngling's body, with an
eerie violet glow lighting up the edges. They were born with the Marks, and the Elemental
Mutations that haunt all born under the Eclipse.
The cubs remained with their Mothers for a short time, before the Marks on their body called
them away - and they vanished from one moment to the next.
The Whispers were taken to a world far beyond and removed from the one they were born in. A
world that was a withered shell of long-gone life, where not even parasites had found a way to
survive. It was a death sentence; a world grave that welcomed them with silence.
But death was not to be their fate.
Their Marks burned and the IriKan within them reached outward, screaming at the Curse, and
latching onto life. They broke through their limits and used their energies to protect their
charges - becoming metaphysical armour on the Whispers they were bound to. So long as they
endured, so too would the Whisper.
As the Whispers took another breath, and gained another chance to thrive, the world came to
life with a shattering scream. Where empty land was stretched now burning magic-marks were
alight with energy, and phantasms of memory reared up from their long sleep.
The world was not alive. It had not been reborn or saved from its death, but something had been
awakened from the depths of time - and now it roamed the world in an endless loop of repeated
moments. Ghostly spectres moved through days long-past, living through the memory of their
lives as if they had never died.
They did not react to the Whispers, and the Whispers could not interact with them. They were
memories, events, and beings that had already happened. Who they were was unclear; hazy
and intangible their very identities seemed striked out by time. Names were spoken but
unheard, a static build-up of sound in place of names. As if something had gone over the saved
memories and blotted them out.
Some lived through peaceful existence - raising their young, laughing and playing with friends.
Others battled against a growing unease, rumours of a war across worlds. They had to prepare,
they couldn't just sit idle and hope the threat faded off. No, no. The threat was contained, it
wouldn't reach them - "Kezarri," one memory laughed, "Kezarri," one memory gasped as it
faltered and died.
"We're safe here," a memory smiled at the intangible shadow of it's offspring.
"Too late," another cried, "It's too late now."
Through the magic of their IriKan they were able to live without access to food or water by
absorbing the energies of the memories. Their IriKans would passively absorb the energy, and
that energy would sustain the Whisper.
The Whispers were taught and raised by both their IriKans and the memories that roamed the
world. Some grew attached to particular memories; perhaps viewing them as "family", while
others were able to remember that the phantasms were not alive - not anymore.
They were the only ones alive in this world. Even though it was seemingly filled with life, memory
was never able to be more than what it was - memory.
The Whispers remained on this hollowed husk of world for what would amount to 3 years time
for them, but would only have been a week in the time of their birth world. They were finally freed
from the hold of the memory world when the magic-marks of the world went silent once more.
When the memories faded, the world fell dark, and the WoRs woke up in the place they were