Once my performance was done, I walked off the stage.

Disappointed as I usually am with my

efforts. I am told that mastery comes with practice. Yet I fear mastery is just an illusive dream that I shall
never realize. Tired I sat down and laid back in my chair spreading my legs and stretching my arms above
my head.
But that was all the rest I was going to be allowed this evening with a flash my chair disappeared
out from under me as I made a quick and forced descent towards the ground. Once I got my bearings on
what had happened, I began to look around. It was clear that I was now somewhere else. Looking
around I could see black marble columns holding up a large and very long portico. It was mostly dark
there, and the light I could see had an odd peculiarity about it. I could not see any stars or a moon from
were I found myself, but the illumination had what could be describe as a strange blacken characteristic.
I had little time to ponder the nature of this place for a man was now walking towards me.

I called out to the figure just on the edge of my viewable range. He seemed to move towards
me as if shuffling in and out of sight, skipping from one space to another. I assumed this phenomenon to
be just a strange trick of the light, yet before I could ponder much about this deception, he soon stood
over me. I was dwarfed by his presence. Taken back by his sheer size I tepidly asked “Who are you and
where am I.”

Cocking his head to the side he replied with a question of his own “What do you see?”

I quickly took in the form of the one standing in front of me. He looked to be dressed regally
with long yet tattered pale-yellow robes and a stark white crown appearing like ivory and a similarly
ashen mask.

“You are a king; I imagine and is this your palace or castle?” I said with a bit of puzzlement.

“Then you know enough” he replied.

“But what should I call you?”

“Your Majesty will do. Follow me.” He said as he turned away from me and began walking.

I hurried to his side and asked “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere and everywhere of course.” He said, “why do you wear your face on your forehead?”

I reached a hand up to my head almost instinctly touching my silver half-kitsune mask. I

chuckled a bit and tried to reassure him that was not my face but a mask.

“No, it is no mask, you are like, myself in that were we wear are masks under our faces. Maybe
you should put yours on.”

I obliged and lowered my “face” over my mask. Once I had accomplished this everything
changed the marble portico that we had been walking down turned from jet black to china white and
the light lost its darken appearance and the glow of the stars shown as I am use to them doing. The King
looked down at me and smiled

“Now you can see the world through your own eyes as you should,” He proclaimed.

We kept walking and talking along this Portico it seemed to stretch on for what was miles.
 “I understand you have recently had struggles with your local authorities.” He said, I thought to
respond but with his tone I knew he knew that I had so I decided to hold my tongue. He proceeded with
“I understand that you held yourself to the truth. Even to your detriment … that is why I have chosen
you. I have truth that must be told and I need you to tell them.”

“And how am I suppose to do this exactly?” I asked with some exasperation.

“Through story how else does one reveal the truth? Be it in song in text or any other means tell
truth through tell. “

“I think you might have selected the wrong person for this job for I struggle and have no talent
for such things.”

“I selected you because you struggle, and trust me you have talent.”

“Again, majesty you must be mistaken,” I said with hints of frustration and confusion in my
voice.

“I have not yet made a mistake,” he snapped. “Notice your face and position for what they are.
You have been touched by the sleeper I can see it in your eyes. He peers through them. “You are also
aligned with the spirit of the one that rejoices over the fallen and motivates the stricken. What stories
you shall tell as my herald.”

“Why me why do you think me able to ascend to greatness.”

“Did I say it was an ascension? No, you have suffered you know the greatest of inspiration all too
intimately, that thing I cannot know directly. That being pain. Do tell them Aberran tell them what you
know. Tell them about pain. Tell them of your descension… into madness. The hell you find yourself in
shall persist, but from within those flames your stories shall be forged.”

“I still don’t understand what you ask of me or how it is you wish me to accomplish your wishes
or why I even should.”

“Your mind is sharp and acute. You are in turmoil your soul twisted and in knots. You need not
worry you will be my herald, because you simply cannot choose to do otherwise.”

After hearing that I found myself sitting in my chair as if I had never left. I felt like I was coming
out of a daze. Was it real? Of course, it was all real. I am sitting here now the Herald of the King in
Yellow.