My family is there to greet me as I walk through the door. They take me into their arms and welcome me home. Home, the word’s true meaning is lost upon them. I am not home, I was never home.
They think they are welcoming a son returned from a worldwide journey of self-discovery. They could not be more wrong. What I discovered was infinitely greater than my insignificant self.
My travels took me far and wide, to lands unknown and undiscovered, to places forgotten and forbidden. To the mountains that would eat the sky, and the caverns that would suffocate the darkness. There, I found home.
Home is where the heart is. Where each hollow beat resonates through the walls, harmonising into a terrifying orchestra. I spent weeks there, listening. Trapped in perfect darkness, sustained only by the heartbeats.
Soon, I began to hear the voices.
They told me of a time long before ours. Of an age before sentience. Before comprehension. Before sense. They told me of a pact, sealed by the laws of logic, lasting even to this day. They told me of a mission, one that remains incomplete. They told me of my duty.
And so here I stand before the people that raised me. Driven away from home, tasked to return only once my duty is complete.
I put on the mask that was once my face. They suspect nothing.
This was actually written a month or two ago, inspired by some silly joke we were making in the skype chat. I figured I might as well post it too. As opposed to the other short story, this one leaves room for a continuation. I only have some vague ideas for what a continuation would be, but if there's interest I might try to force it out. As before, thoughts and feedback would be very helpful.