"It is thus that we came to existence.
Born to those with no special powers, money or who had done great deeds, we
are the children of the Mortals.
That is why we were regarded as harmless by the deities of the Castle in
the Sky, Mt. Olympus; they had magical power to hide behind and knowledge
to scorn others with.
And that is in itself their biggest failure and greatest danger: they
thought themselves invincible, only to be destroyed by the mere prophecy of
a mortal child, destined according to the Three Great Fates, to be their
downfall."
And yet the child was but a Harbinger, a mere shell holding some valuable power, or at least enough to be feared by all and to bring the Gods in turmoil. But she was nothing compared to her mother, the Lady of Battle herself. Thousands knew of her name and her deeds, both good and bad, and still they treated her with more respect than they offered homage to their patron gods.
She had the power to kill and destroy, build and re-construct the lives of millions of innocents and not-so-innocents but she chose not to in the end. The Gods think they know her, but she has yet to reveal her true self.
Drip, the Waters of Time flow undisturbed in the Land of the Keins, the great Watchers. She does not know it yet, but she has their blood boiling in her delicate mortal veins. The Threads of Fate spin themselves to form the Greater Picture, undisturbed and unconcerned of the consequences of their bonding. All was going well and according to plan. The Son came to their aide, the King fell to his doom, and I watch as the child comes out of her body. The Amazon is by her side, and Nuala looks in wonder and joy at the bundle of flesh and the remnants of birth still covering the tiny, precious form.
She will be great, that one. But not like her mother. Oh no, not like her mother at all; there wouldn't be one like her mother for the next three thousand years to come, in the very least.
Nuala looks up from the Harbinger that is her daughter and – Creator bless my soul – straight into my eyes. Her face does not change, nor does she give out any sign that she has seen me. But she has; Creator's hands, she knows I reside here on top of this tree, watching the little happy group, feeling like a completely and total fool for it. The instant I departed did not go unnoticed.
Already she's rocking the baby back and forth, humming a lullaby, caressing the tiny features and hands and feet, crooning as the baby turned towards her mother's touch instinctively. Already the gods have targeted her. Already she has assumed the fierce, protective stance that comes with being a mother, and looks around the area carefully, to make sure there is no danger laying ahead to harm the precious life she has given. Already I can see the fate that awaits her, my beloved Nuala, slain by the gods with her own hands...and he grieves for her.
She hears his cries, but is past recognition and I watch as the eternal sleep claims the last of the Children of Th'Hannui. Snip, the thread of Fate has been cut, the most vital part to the existence of these poor tortured souls. The child was believed to have gone with them, but I know better; she will grow up and become a heartless woman, ruthless in her rage, intoxicating in her glory. But not like her mother. The mortal has no importance to our race, but she is part of a delicate chain that can become the dangling train of the Key to unlock Nuala the Storm Bringer.
She is encased in ice now, my beloved Nuala and there is not a thing I can do or wish more than to help free her. But she must do this by herself. In her own time and in her own way; she has always been like that, dearest, beloved Nuala. She looks the same, her soul and spirit have endured, but her powers are dormant and so is a part of her that is too precious and too powerful to be destroyed.
After all, it took Erythros seven centuries to awaken and come back home, step through the Gates and into Alangar, our prosperous city. He yearns for Nuala's presence; I know he does. And how can he not? They are twins after all, bound by blood and a bond so deep and powerful it is too complicated to be understood by simpler beings. But he does not take a step and he does not interfere. Erythros is too intelligent to do such a thing, and knows better.
He and Nuala were the best of friends; one would always come first for the other, both so stunning and stubborn and yet so different and deadly in their own ways it was frightening and a beautiful thing all the same to watch them grow from their infant years to their Initiation Day; and look after their trail of glory and blinding light as they became older and more responsible, less mischievous, more powerful.
Creator's hands, they were so special a pair it was the cruellest thing to part them so; and for them to haven't had the time to reconciliate themselves before Celeste took them in her cold, forceful hands.
'Twas meant to be, many said. Such a terrible waste and to have had a horrible fight as they did. Dreadful, truly dreadful and such a pity they died without each other's forgiveness; they died alone. What would they know?
I brought them up; I watched them take their first steps, speak their first word, spark their first, most precious trace of magic. Such a beautiful thing it was, but then of course, it wouldn't be otherwise. Erythros had moved Elloi's sword from the scabbard resting at her hip, and brought it crashing down right next to him. I could feel my immortal heart beat with conspicuous joy then; my son had shown his first signs of magic at the age of three cycles of the seasons. Nuala was more sedate and steady-paced.
Many tried to force it out of her numerous times; they joked about how I would have to leave her on the doorstep of a mortal house since she demonstrated of having no special powers or skills. Except for mischief and mayhem, and an adorable pair of doe-eyed, crystalline sapphires. By the Creator's hand, I would have kept her even if she had not possessed the 'required trademarks' that were like genes to our kind. I wasn't particularly concerned for the fact that at the age of four cycles of the seasons she had yet to show any ability, and the boundary for children was almost too close for some people's liking, but I paid no heed to their sayings. I had faith in my Nuala, and I presaged she would grow to be so powerful, that one day the Stars would dim and she would give off light and glow like a Sun.
And I was right; if Erythros was wonderful to have removed a sword so heavy from a scabbard, Nuala was a child prodigy. Little Edani had played with the mortal children one time too many, had crossed her father's portal one dangerous time too many; She got stuck between Plains, and it wasn't until Kyos came home complaining that the portal had given out again that she was found. Cancera had found out that Edani was nowhere to be found, and the little star dangling at the end of the chain stuck to the 'control pad' was glowing, meaning that someone was in the portal, or just about to come out. After two minutes it was discerned that Edani was stuck between the Plains and the next few hours became the Earthly Tartarus. She was rescued by her father, and I had never seen Kyos looking so distraught and worried.
Cancera cried out with what I knew was motherly horror at seeing her child in pain and hurt. Edani had many swirls of black essence stuck to her small form, tentacle- like tendrils swaying this way and that. Her face was blue and her Life Stone was dull and smoke grey coloured; she was stuck in a reality between consciousness and the greatly feared Mordoch, the dark void that existed yet could not be entered or exited unless you found the exit or entrance. In better words, Edani was in a coma.
It was my Nuala that got her out of it. Kyos and Cancera had called every Healer and Shamaness they could think of; none had found it in their hearts to go into the Mordoch unprepared and without a single source of Light from the Evenstar. We had all given up hope; Kyos could not enter the Mordoch without his sword Meceni, they would both be stuck out there, and Cancera was too weak to save her daughter alone, never mind both of them. I had never been inside personally, but I had heard enough to know that it was a horrid place to be in, and being one of the closest friends of the family, I felt sadness and pity for them.
Nuala got up, off my lap, and went over to Edani's body, her small feet making a soft padding on the floor. Before I knew what was going on, she grabbed the girl's hand with her left, and with her right she touched the girl's forehead. At first I thought she was just checking her temperature, when suddenly her Life Stone glowed a brilliant white, to be replaced by dull grey streaks. I can still taste the bile that rose up in my throat, the stabbing sharp vine clutching at my soul, my mind screaming at me to break their contact in that instant.
Nuala, my sweet, trusting Nuala had just entered the Mordoch without so much as a drop of the Light of the Evenstar, and what was worst was that she had no stitch of protection or indeed shown any signs that she could protect herself magically. Her magic had yet to make an appearance.
My world rocked on its axis, the room spun and I found my breath coming in short, pathetic, mortal-like gasps, my mind going blank with the shock that my sweet blue-eyed baby had gone in there by herself and so unprotected and so young. It felt like hours, sitting there watching the two showing no signs of gracing us humble beings with their mystical presence; Edani wasn't blue anymore, but her Life Stone now showed streaks of red and orange, a definite sign of danger, and Nuala's eyes became blank and pupil-less; black and void.
We had no consciousness of the time that flowed past, but the moon was already shining in her white-silver glory, and was now reaching the low part of the sky, signalling that the reign of the Lady Nix would be over in but a few hours, to be taken over by the first slivers of daylight. Suddenly a set of twin flares of white lights came from the girls' Life Stones, and we all stared incredulously at the pair. They were still for a few minutes, Edani's cheeks coloured a healthy pink, and Nuala's black orbs shrank, a circle of the purest blue I had ever seen and knew so well came into view, surrounded again by white. The girls both blinked at the same time, and for an infinity-like second we could not believe our eyes. Surely our immortal eyes were tricking us, so tired and concerned were our minds that they must have been in a pitiful state indeed; surely our little girls were still trapped in the Mordoch, to be lost forever and never to be seen again.
I remember closing my eyes at the sore sight, only to snap them open a moment later at the sound of "Mummy..." The tears streaking down my face could not be stopped; there could not be a word to describe the immense relief and joy and wonder and anger and the Creator knew what else, I was feeling at that moment.
Nuala had shown her first sign of magic, she has just stepped into the feared Mordoch, and stepped out of it hours later with Edani safe and sound. Such a thing at the mere age of six cycles of the seasons was unheard of; we became famous throughout the city and many came to examine Nuala and ask for her help to heal a loved one, and I was so proud and frightened at the same time that the next days were more of a hazy passage in a dark tunnel.
A sob escapes my throat now, scalding tears making their treacherous way down my face, just as they did long ago when I aw the bodies of my two children crushed by Darkness and crumble together, united and yet so apart from each other. Looking around myself, I am surprised to notice I have made my way towards the ice coffin sitting on the left side of the cave, careful to avoid the sword and chakram, the 'tombstone' left by the War God.
Watching it, I cannot help but think how sad it is that such a beautiful woman has had to leave her life for the up-tenth time. And how wonderful it was to have known her as a daughter, for others to be graced by her presence.
A shining star among torches lit of fire.
And thus Nuala rests, beautiful even in death, enclosed protectively in her carved ice coffin, wearing that leather battle-dress of hers. I find so overwhelming all of a sudden that I almost have to lean and draw support from the coffin. Not being able to gaze at those sapphires lit by an inner fire no one could ever hope to match was almost too much for me.
And what is a mother to do when she gazes down onto the face of her dead, buried (so to speak) daughter? I once heard an old mortal woman say to a crowd of un-interested farmers and inn-keepers and such that a parent should never have to bury their children.
I have had that that misfortune thrice now. It is at times like these that I wish my husband Leoni was with me; I had to bury him too, and the children were so saddened by the sudden loss. I make no silly pretences; I know I have given them all they have ever desired and more, but the lacking presence of a man of the family was palpable at times nonetheless.
Erythros had been watching her since she was a child, playing out in the fields outside the village Amphipolis with her brother Lyceus. Such burning jealousy and hatred he had felt then, I almost had to restrain him from hurting the boy. I understood very well why it was that he felt that way. I almost hurt the woman Cyrene too many times to be comfortable with.
As for that Amazon woman...the burning feeling I felt rising in me was not a pleasant one.
Who were these mere mortals to take our beloved Nuala away from us? I had knowledge of her dreams at night, when she dreamt of Alangar and her real home. I knew her soul yearned to break free from the prison it had been trapped in, I knew she craved to know what the Castles in the Sky were all about.
Erythros had to be magically constrained when Nuala died by the hands of Caesar and his Romans; he did not talk to anyone for a whole seven days and eight nights. His tantrums were rare, but devastating and always palpable in their wake and power. Who were you to keep me from my sister? Who were you to stop me from going by her side when she needed me the most, when she had the chance to come home? He'd shouted when he finally came out of his shell.
I was so happy and relieved to have him back in my arms, my beloved son, that I did not immediately realize the extensive damage it caused seeing his sister living a mortal life, unaware of her true heritage or her real family. I find myself thinking now that it is amazing that the heart makes no noise when it cracks. He almost travelled into the Mordoch at times, he missed her so much.
And I, being their mother, did not realize until too late what it did to my Erythros to see our Nuala safe, but so far away. Centuries unravelled themselves before my eyes, past occurrences and memories all poured into each other until it all became one great, befuddled tangle. Time went back to centuries before, he was a broken child again, and it broke both our hearts to feel her Life slipping away yet again.
I cannot remember the exact number of times I had cursed Celeste and her damn 'Death at your doorstep' calling of souls. My mother once told me that time heals all wounds.
But I think she was wrong; now, as I stand before the lifeless body that was my daughter, I think to myself that there can only be so many times the heart mends itself from cracks.
And here it the first chapter of Crystal Genesis; the title is only temporary and might change later on. As usual, I am open t anything from insults to praise, all you have to do is review, but don't over do it if you did not like the story.-( NO DIRTY WORDS NEEDED TO EXPRESS PERSONAL OPINIONS. Also, I am looking for a beta-reader, anyone interested, review this chapter and let me know through there.
Thank you all, Lady Zee
And yet the child was but a Harbinger, a mere shell holding some valuable power, or at least enough to be feared by all and to bring the Gods in turmoil. But she was nothing compared to her mother, the Lady of Battle herself. Thousands knew of her name and her deeds, both good and bad, and still they treated her with more respect than they offered homage to their patron gods.
She had the power to kill and destroy, build and re-construct the lives of millions of innocents and not-so-innocents but she chose not to in the end. The Gods think they know her, but she has yet to reveal her true self.
Drip, the Waters of Time flow undisturbed in the Land of the Keins, the great Watchers. She does not know it yet, but she has their blood boiling in her delicate mortal veins. The Threads of Fate spin themselves to form the Greater Picture, undisturbed and unconcerned of the consequences of their bonding. All was going well and according to plan. The Son came to their aide, the King fell to his doom, and I watch as the child comes out of her body. The Amazon is by her side, and Nuala looks in wonder and joy at the bundle of flesh and the remnants of birth still covering the tiny, precious form.
She will be great, that one. But not like her mother. Oh no, not like her mother at all; there wouldn't be one like her mother for the next three thousand years to come, in the very least.
Nuala looks up from the Harbinger that is her daughter and – Creator bless my soul – straight into my eyes. Her face does not change, nor does she give out any sign that she has seen me. But she has; Creator's hands, she knows I reside here on top of this tree, watching the little happy group, feeling like a completely and total fool for it. The instant I departed did not go unnoticed.
Already she's rocking the baby back and forth, humming a lullaby, caressing the tiny features and hands and feet, crooning as the baby turned towards her mother's touch instinctively. Already the gods have targeted her. Already she has assumed the fierce, protective stance that comes with being a mother, and looks around the area carefully, to make sure there is no danger laying ahead to harm the precious life she has given. Already I can see the fate that awaits her, my beloved Nuala, slain by the gods with her own hands...and he grieves for her.
She hears his cries, but is past recognition and I watch as the eternal sleep claims the last of the Children of Th'Hannui. Snip, the thread of Fate has been cut, the most vital part to the existence of these poor tortured souls. The child was believed to have gone with them, but I know better; she will grow up and become a heartless woman, ruthless in her rage, intoxicating in her glory. But not like her mother. The mortal has no importance to our race, but she is part of a delicate chain that can become the dangling train of the Key to unlock Nuala the Storm Bringer.
She is encased in ice now, my beloved Nuala and there is not a thing I can do or wish more than to help free her. But she must do this by herself. In her own time and in her own way; she has always been like that, dearest, beloved Nuala. She looks the same, her soul and spirit have endured, but her powers are dormant and so is a part of her that is too precious and too powerful to be destroyed.
After all, it took Erythros seven centuries to awaken and come back home, step through the Gates and into Alangar, our prosperous city. He yearns for Nuala's presence; I know he does. And how can he not? They are twins after all, bound by blood and a bond so deep and powerful it is too complicated to be understood by simpler beings. But he does not take a step and he does not interfere. Erythros is too intelligent to do such a thing, and knows better.
He and Nuala were the best of friends; one would always come first for the other, both so stunning and stubborn and yet so different and deadly in their own ways it was frightening and a beautiful thing all the same to watch them grow from their infant years to their Initiation Day; and look after their trail of glory and blinding light as they became older and more responsible, less mischievous, more powerful.
Creator's hands, they were so special a pair it was the cruellest thing to part them so; and for them to haven't had the time to reconciliate themselves before Celeste took them in her cold, forceful hands.
'Twas meant to be, many said. Such a terrible waste and to have had a horrible fight as they did. Dreadful, truly dreadful and such a pity they died without each other's forgiveness; they died alone. What would they know?
I brought them up; I watched them take their first steps, speak their first word, spark their first, most precious trace of magic. Such a beautiful thing it was, but then of course, it wouldn't be otherwise. Erythros had moved Elloi's sword from the scabbard resting at her hip, and brought it crashing down right next to him. I could feel my immortal heart beat with conspicuous joy then; my son had shown his first signs of magic at the age of three cycles of the seasons. Nuala was more sedate and steady-paced.
Many tried to force it out of her numerous times; they joked about how I would have to leave her on the doorstep of a mortal house since she demonstrated of having no special powers or skills. Except for mischief and mayhem, and an adorable pair of doe-eyed, crystalline sapphires. By the Creator's hand, I would have kept her even if she had not possessed the 'required trademarks' that were like genes to our kind. I wasn't particularly concerned for the fact that at the age of four cycles of the seasons she had yet to show any ability, and the boundary for children was almost too close for some people's liking, but I paid no heed to their sayings. I had faith in my Nuala, and I presaged she would grow to be so powerful, that one day the Stars would dim and she would give off light and glow like a Sun.
And I was right; if Erythros was wonderful to have removed a sword so heavy from a scabbard, Nuala was a child prodigy. Little Edani had played with the mortal children one time too many, had crossed her father's portal one dangerous time too many; She got stuck between Plains, and it wasn't until Kyos came home complaining that the portal had given out again that she was found. Cancera had found out that Edani was nowhere to be found, and the little star dangling at the end of the chain stuck to the 'control pad' was glowing, meaning that someone was in the portal, or just about to come out. After two minutes it was discerned that Edani was stuck between the Plains and the next few hours became the Earthly Tartarus. She was rescued by her father, and I had never seen Kyos looking so distraught and worried.
Cancera cried out with what I knew was motherly horror at seeing her child in pain and hurt. Edani had many swirls of black essence stuck to her small form, tentacle- like tendrils swaying this way and that. Her face was blue and her Life Stone was dull and smoke grey coloured; she was stuck in a reality between consciousness and the greatly feared Mordoch, the dark void that existed yet could not be entered or exited unless you found the exit or entrance. In better words, Edani was in a coma.
It was my Nuala that got her out of it. Kyos and Cancera had called every Healer and Shamaness they could think of; none had found it in their hearts to go into the Mordoch unprepared and without a single source of Light from the Evenstar. We had all given up hope; Kyos could not enter the Mordoch without his sword Meceni, they would both be stuck out there, and Cancera was too weak to save her daughter alone, never mind both of them. I had never been inside personally, but I had heard enough to know that it was a horrid place to be in, and being one of the closest friends of the family, I felt sadness and pity for them.
Nuala got up, off my lap, and went over to Edani's body, her small feet making a soft padding on the floor. Before I knew what was going on, she grabbed the girl's hand with her left, and with her right she touched the girl's forehead. At first I thought she was just checking her temperature, when suddenly her Life Stone glowed a brilliant white, to be replaced by dull grey streaks. I can still taste the bile that rose up in my throat, the stabbing sharp vine clutching at my soul, my mind screaming at me to break their contact in that instant.
Nuala, my sweet, trusting Nuala had just entered the Mordoch without so much as a drop of the Light of the Evenstar, and what was worst was that she had no stitch of protection or indeed shown any signs that she could protect herself magically. Her magic had yet to make an appearance.
My world rocked on its axis, the room spun and I found my breath coming in short, pathetic, mortal-like gasps, my mind going blank with the shock that my sweet blue-eyed baby had gone in there by herself and so unprotected and so young. It felt like hours, sitting there watching the two showing no signs of gracing us humble beings with their mystical presence; Edani wasn't blue anymore, but her Life Stone now showed streaks of red and orange, a definite sign of danger, and Nuala's eyes became blank and pupil-less; black and void.
We had no consciousness of the time that flowed past, but the moon was already shining in her white-silver glory, and was now reaching the low part of the sky, signalling that the reign of the Lady Nix would be over in but a few hours, to be taken over by the first slivers of daylight. Suddenly a set of twin flares of white lights came from the girls' Life Stones, and we all stared incredulously at the pair. They were still for a few minutes, Edani's cheeks coloured a healthy pink, and Nuala's black orbs shrank, a circle of the purest blue I had ever seen and knew so well came into view, surrounded again by white. The girls both blinked at the same time, and for an infinity-like second we could not believe our eyes. Surely our immortal eyes were tricking us, so tired and concerned were our minds that they must have been in a pitiful state indeed; surely our little girls were still trapped in the Mordoch, to be lost forever and never to be seen again.
I remember closing my eyes at the sore sight, only to snap them open a moment later at the sound of "Mummy..." The tears streaking down my face could not be stopped; there could not be a word to describe the immense relief and joy and wonder and anger and the Creator knew what else, I was feeling at that moment.
Nuala had shown her first sign of magic, she has just stepped into the feared Mordoch, and stepped out of it hours later with Edani safe and sound. Such a thing at the mere age of six cycles of the seasons was unheard of; we became famous throughout the city and many came to examine Nuala and ask for her help to heal a loved one, and I was so proud and frightened at the same time that the next days were more of a hazy passage in a dark tunnel.
A sob escapes my throat now, scalding tears making their treacherous way down my face, just as they did long ago when I aw the bodies of my two children crushed by Darkness and crumble together, united and yet so apart from each other. Looking around myself, I am surprised to notice I have made my way towards the ice coffin sitting on the left side of the cave, careful to avoid the sword and chakram, the 'tombstone' left by the War God.
Watching it, I cannot help but think how sad it is that such a beautiful woman has had to leave her life for the up-tenth time. And how wonderful it was to have known her as a daughter, for others to be graced by her presence.
A shining star among torches lit of fire.
And thus Nuala rests, beautiful even in death, enclosed protectively in her carved ice coffin, wearing that leather battle-dress of hers. I find so overwhelming all of a sudden that I almost have to lean and draw support from the coffin. Not being able to gaze at those sapphires lit by an inner fire no one could ever hope to match was almost too much for me.
And what is a mother to do when she gazes down onto the face of her dead, buried (so to speak) daughter? I once heard an old mortal woman say to a crowd of un-interested farmers and inn-keepers and such that a parent should never have to bury their children.
I have had that that misfortune thrice now. It is at times like these that I wish my husband Leoni was with me; I had to bury him too, and the children were so saddened by the sudden loss. I make no silly pretences; I know I have given them all they have ever desired and more, but the lacking presence of a man of the family was palpable at times nonetheless.
Erythros had been watching her since she was a child, playing out in the fields outside the village Amphipolis with her brother Lyceus. Such burning jealousy and hatred he had felt then, I almost had to restrain him from hurting the boy. I understood very well why it was that he felt that way. I almost hurt the woman Cyrene too many times to be comfortable with.
As for that Amazon woman...the burning feeling I felt rising in me was not a pleasant one.
Who were these mere mortals to take our beloved Nuala away from us? I had knowledge of her dreams at night, when she dreamt of Alangar and her real home. I knew her soul yearned to break free from the prison it had been trapped in, I knew she craved to know what the Castles in the Sky were all about.
Erythros had to be magically constrained when Nuala died by the hands of Caesar and his Romans; he did not talk to anyone for a whole seven days and eight nights. His tantrums were rare, but devastating and always palpable in their wake and power. Who were you to keep me from my sister? Who were you to stop me from going by her side when she needed me the most, when she had the chance to come home? He'd shouted when he finally came out of his shell.
I was so happy and relieved to have him back in my arms, my beloved son, that I did not immediately realize the extensive damage it caused seeing his sister living a mortal life, unaware of her true heritage or her real family. I find myself thinking now that it is amazing that the heart makes no noise when it cracks. He almost travelled into the Mordoch at times, he missed her so much.
And I, being their mother, did not realize until too late what it did to my Erythros to see our Nuala safe, but so far away. Centuries unravelled themselves before my eyes, past occurrences and memories all poured into each other until it all became one great, befuddled tangle. Time went back to centuries before, he was a broken child again, and it broke both our hearts to feel her Life slipping away yet again.
I cannot remember the exact number of times I had cursed Celeste and her damn 'Death at your doorstep' calling of souls. My mother once told me that time heals all wounds.
But I think she was wrong; now, as I stand before the lifeless body that was my daughter, I think to myself that there can only be so many times the heart mends itself from cracks.
And here it the first chapter of Crystal Genesis; the title is only temporary and might change later on. As usual, I am open t anything from insults to praise, all you have to do is review, but don't over do it if you did not like the story.-( NO DIRTY WORDS NEEDED TO EXPRESS PERSONAL OPINIONS. Also, I am looking for a beta-reader, anyone interested, review this chapter and let me know through there.
Thank you all, Lady Zee