Beat The Clock.

Jan 24 - Planets

The heat of the campfire crackled against the darkness of the forest night. The old man found himself staring across at his companion while he smoked his pipe, the anxiety of runny for the past few days finally catching up with him.

"This is beautiful, Asher." The young man held the scroll out in front of him, catching the fire's light to see all of the paintings details. "One of your best pieces to date."

Asher smiled, relief rolling off his shoulders. It had taken him weeks to come up with the right creation. Everything needed to be perfect for his mentor - every brush stroke and paint pigment. The scroll has been a culmination of his life's work.

Carefully, the young man rolled up both ends and placed it gently by his side. Asher remembered seeing him for the first time as a young boy. Throughout the decades he had grown old, graying in both hair and mind. Yet, his teacher had remained the same. A constant in a sea of war.

"They will come for us soon. Have you finished the rest of your script?"

Asher exhaled the sweet smoke from his lungs. "Yes, my teacher. Only a few lines left when the time is right. But I hesitate... I hesitate to finish this when we could try to change the minds of the people. Is there no hope?"

"The people have no need for me anymore, my friend. When the war has settled, they will find the Great Goddess to guide them. She has an abundance of compassion. It will soothe them. And if there is ever a need for me again, you know where to find me." He leaned back on the forest floor, hand tucked behind his head, and gaze up at the night sky. "Look at those stars, Asher. What a beautiful sight."

The royal guards found their resting place within the hour. The young man ran into the woods while Asher sat writing with his ink and quill. He great solace he signed his god's name into the scroll, assigning him into history as residing on the plains of a planet his crafted in shades of blue and green. A perfect view of the stars and the planet he had once watched over.

"Come, scribe." One of the royal guard's helped him from the ground by the elbow, sympathy in his voice. "You've wandered off again, Asher. The King and Queen wish you back to the libraries."

His smile was absent, his sight slightly vacant. "Need to finish my work."

"Of course, old man. Come on now."

And as the ink dried, he felt his teacher's essence pass into the scroll, waiting until the world needed him once more.