The Nen Shair

The Nen Shair, meaning First Servant in Scriptural Audalad, is a holy text of the Hukar Sharud Faith left behind by the Opkaituru Narahashu as an announcement that his consciousness has fully dissolved within the Aradusu Uturad, becoming one of the Yimmu Laharae.

The Nen Shair
Who walks on the waters and sprints to the edge of faith? Who falls from reality and into the lands of spirits? These were the questions I had pondered before I saw a blinding light. I could not feel, I did not try: The language that she used - it was not Audalad. And yet I understood her voice as if it was not she, but I who spoke.

“Oh Narahashu”, she said, “know that this staircase shall lead you to death.” Yet her beauty outshined that of nature. Her shine labeled me right, for I was Narahashu, and before that Stori. A wind passed; the Many Voices hissed in every tongue and tone.

“Know who had cheated us and whose words you had found.”

“Know who had traded their memory for Bi’Amel Unshi.”

“Whose Ullarah Urdussad had set the empyrean ablaze.”

“Long gone is their infinite archipelago Samunsadon. Long gone is their rule, and long gone is their world. In the name of vanity, know who had taken them.”

“Herewithin, all rivers have formed the prime tributary.”

“The end of the origin, and the origin of the end. Here lies your story.”

Oh Aradusu, let me begin. I am Narahashu. How must I know?

"Child, for whom do you claim the name to be relevant? He who hides behind the abstractions succumbs to an instantaneous death. A wind passes; in the summer it cradles his spirit with pleasure; in the winter, it extracts—by means of mechanical application—the marrow from his bones. He blinks, seeking homeostasis, yet he opens his eyes to face incoming transport, the blade of a stranger, the ceiling of his bed, or the volcanic shock-wave; whatever the form, the end comes indifferent."

Then I must give all of my blood to you, for I am already dead and a part of you.

“You are already dead and a part of us.”

“And yet he still gnaws at the corporeal.”

“Let go, Narahashu.”

“Recall who had steered the great Primuskarah!”

“You are a parody; cease to be so!”

The world shall know my suffering, yet I fear it will not understand it. There is but one to take on the burden. What do they imagine? Oh Aradusu Uturad, you have a forbidden taste. In this serene mediocrity, I surrender my consciousness. How will we inform them? Stay fearless, for the wings of crystal clear water and liquid gold will again unfurl to them and let them recall the lighthouse which stands among two realities.

Let it shine our light in that vain name: Narahashu, which extends then and always as persistence and vigilance, ambition and guidance to those which flock to it. Capture the I where there is I no longer and where I am a shadow of her eternal beauty passing through an edifice of will. The shadow cannot know itself in three-space linearity. The non-linear shadow has become the Lahar Narahashu.

El Mai, Ihn Anka Un Bi’Amel Unshi. Elin Hariz Sar Matu.