free_form2 An Echo Of The Past
Ancient Rome

Civilisations rose, kingdoms fell... Long before even man, that of the primordial vortex had battled for dominion, eventually coming to recognise such concepts as glory and power. Even the lowly ant engaged in warfare and slavery.

Now, one more empire of many sought to control the Earth. Erato had lost count of the shadows cast upon her by such monuments; never really had any reason to keep tally, but here was one more. The Amphitheatrum Flavium, in Latin tongue. In times yet to come, something known as English would popularise it as the 'Coliseum'. A grand arena devoted to the religion of entertainment, guaranteed to slake the hungering masses with bloody games and ceremonial diversions.

Erato, though, gained something else from it. Here, in the glow of sunrise, the streets more or less emptied, she could gaze up at its framework of masonry, contemplate its engineered magnificence, step forward and place hand against its foundation of stone.

It spoke to her... She could hear its echoes. The impressions within, being formed from those who had made and, later, played within its boundaries. Not only they, but the gathered souls from its audience. An ever-changing mass of bodies, passionate in their appetites and slick with desires only those standing before them could provide.

And it whispered to her the song of life. Life given victory and life sacrificed on the altar of amusement. At the end of day, the sheer amount of blood could often pool, soaking the sand and dust and exotic shade of fertile red. This place survived as any animal did, taking in the weak and unlucky to consume within its maw.

Yet, to the Lamiae, Erato's sisterhood, it was but a landmark in time. Something which would pass. A relic-to-be. Perhaps worth more in treasure as time went on, but perhaps never to recapture moments such as these.

Contemporary Las Vegas

Rome was not as it once had been. Little more than an over-sized church and something existing only in the minds of historians and those who sought to re-enact past glories. An irony, Erato felt, for something so great to be reduced to the very thing it had created an industry out of: Entertainment.

Looking past the actors dressed in Centurion garb, the brunette's attention wandered to skyline. None would know it, but as dusk took ahold, Erato's gaze followed a dimming horizon, looking towards a network of mines, far beyond. She could feel it... That now-familiar atmosphere of one era about to pass by and another being crafted and shaped to replace it.

This was to be a time of change. Great upheaval was gathering pace and, this time, might yet end up changing more than just this world.

Perhaps a little revolution, every now and then, was good for the soul.