Umung walked among the gods.  His soul was one of the most ancient.  He paralleled the paths of perfection sought by those along the journeys of spiritual completion.  There was one problem though.  When his enlightenment should have been at hand, should have come to pass, he did not transcend.

Umung carried a seed of darkness, and the gods knew not how or why.

Understanding the importance of all life, Umung would not kill, never consciously.  There were elements of destruction in all existence however, incidental harm none could master and maintain sanity.  These elements beyond his control haunted Umung.  He was vegetarian and did not even care for the destruction of plant life.  The necessity of it was clear to him, but he still fought with his own existence each day, wondering if there were purer, less harmful ways of passing his time.

The years were lost to him.  He had long ago forgotten the day of his birth or the window of time he consumed.  The occasional moment crossed his consciousness where he believed he was adrift upon the stream of time, lost amidst the currents which should have claimed him long ago.  Something was amiss, and his reflections offered no insight into the peculiarities.

So Umung rolled the bones, and he dealt the cards, and he read the leaves.  He survived on the gracious charity of others and the good will he afforded by seeing the threads of destiny in the lives which crossed his path.

The seed of darkness waited, but the harvest was coming on the horizon, the time of trials and wonder for those that wore the mortal flesh.  Umung would bear the burden of either guiding the fate of sentient kind to salvation or engineering their destruction, though he knew not which.  He only knew that the dreams came, and he walked to silence them.  The nightmares though could not be silenced, and they would find their way into his days in due course.  Umung only hoped he had time to find those capable enough to help him on his journey.


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