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In Eartea, there is a windswept grass plain where even the bravest of travelers is overwhelmed by a crushing fear, and impressions of impending death. A haze of red forms on the very edge of vision. A noise, faint, but like the crashing of waves on the beach, uneven but unbreaking, fills the ears. A stench of spilt blood and opened bodies, far off but horrible, comes to the nose. Those who linger inexplicably die, and their bones join those of the warriors who fell in a vast and horrible battle thousands of years ago.
There is a deep lake high in the central mountains. The minds of those who enter are filled with tantalizing but vague impressions of ancient memories. Those who emerge are forever changed. They may be struck at any time by visions, strange and deep emotions, or uniquely original thoughts. The more deeply effected seem to be lost in a world of inner thought, only partly aware of the world around them. When they do speek or act, it is to do something either horrible or beautiful, but always filling those around them with a sense of some deep awe and power. But some do not emerge, and their memories are said to be joined with those of the lake, and the mysterious race that once lived there, long ago.
And there are the ruins of an ancient palace, where a hundred generations dwelt, whose words and songs and sounds may be faintly heard by any who pass through it. Many a poet or minstrel is said to have been inspired to write their greatest works while visiting this place.
And these are not isolated incidents. It seems that the essence of a place or object and people or events that effect them can become deeply intertwined, especially when they involve music or sound.
Folk tales speak of a man and wife who became so deeply conected that one inexplicably died just as the other was pierced by a deadly spear.
When the Music faded, so did these things. But they did not end, merely weaken. Those more sensitive, or who pursued them diligently, can find them. And some actions can temporarily bring them back to full power.
But in Eartea, it is often better not to meddle with these ancient forces.
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I am Ebed Eleutheros, redeemed from slavery in sin to the bond-service of my Master, Jesus Christ.
Redemption is to be purchased, to have a price paid. So I was redeemed from my master sin, and from justice, which demanded my death. For He paid the price of sin by becoming sin, and met the demands of justice by dying for us.
For all men have a master. But a man cannot have two masters. For he will love one and hate the other. You cannot serve God and sin. So I die to the old, as He died, and I am resurrected to the new, as He was resurrected.
Note: Ebed is Hebrew for bondsman, Eleutheros is Greek for unrestrained (not a slave).
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