A butterfly with golden wings fluttered through the last days of autumn; it would soon wither and die, like the flowers had, it would soon fall to the ground, like the gilded leaves touched by the autumn grace.
For it, change was just a thing it had to live with. To it, the butterfly gave no regard. It barely mattered; it was but a constant thing that it could do nothing about. So why worry? Why even develop the ability to worry? Would it not soil the butterfly's joy in fluttering about, from one flower to the next?
The earth rumbled and shook, but the butterfly barely noticed. How could a thing that flew off the ground notice the movements of the earth? Sure, the trees around would rustle more, and a beautiful rain of gold would be released from their branches, joining in with its flight, making a moment once lonesome into a joyful meeting, where all things would, in the end, find their way carried by the wind, only to crash down to coat the earth with a layer of gold.
The earth gave no more tremors, and now, when the butterfly lay on the ground, among the leaves, it surely felt that it belonged, for it no longer fluttered its wings, and instead remained where it was.
For it, death was just another moment, another thing part of change. It could do nothing about it, so why worry? Why be cognizant of it?
Its fragile carcass was buried by a layer of gold, then another formed from a shadow. Far above it, a flower most beautiful had begun its bloom; and where summer had long gone by, and autumn was on its way out, the winter would be dark, and that singular flower would grace the heavens with its dreadful beauty, reminding of things far below that life could only insist on its existence, if the sun would grace the world with its warm hug.
- - -
Orfia sat across from her father, stirring her tea as her father drank his, while reading yet another one of the previous mayor's books. Even after yesterday's tears, he remained as he always was. Stoic and somewhat withdrawn. You'd expect a deep conversation, or at least acknowledgment of what had happened.
But no. This wasn't her father's style, nor was it really how men worked, Orfia had observed throughout her life. For some reason, it seemed that men did not often talk about their issues or problems, not even with their close family or their closest friends.
In the end, Orfia wasn't really that offended by it. She even understood it. And in fact, she much preferred it. Silence was all they both needed. Not the one where thoughts are allowed to roam free, but the kind of silence that is filled with the emptiness of thought. Though it was clear that her father instead distracted himself with work, like he always did, so as not to get drowned by sorrow or other difficult-to-handle feelings.
Orfia drank the rest of her tea, knowing that this much was enough. She knew that her father appreciated this very much. He didn't need anything else from his daughter—except maybe for her to seek for herself a husband, and have children of her own, but that was a thing that could come much later on, and thankfully, her father had not pressed her. Doren Lewnrer was a lot gentler than it would seem from the outside, and Orfia loved him for that.
But—she placed her cup onto the table, bidding her father a joyous reading experience—Orfia had something that she had to do. She got up and left their house, making her way toward the temple. There were a few things she still wanted to discuss. Of course, there were some grievances, even things she wanted to show her gratitude for, but above all else, there was a need for certainty. Orfia wanted to be certain that dropping the whole complicated subject that was Kanrel and all the things involving him would be the right thing to do.
She wanted to know if moving on was in her right to do. And if she were to move on, would she still feel the ice surrounding her heart, suffocating her from within, whenever she thought of her brother?
The wind blew around her, and the leaves from the trees around the temple were carried by it. They flew past her, covering the rough roads with a more pleasant color than the usual mix of browns and grays. Besides, later, the crunching sound when stepping on them would bring much joy to the kids of Jersten... not to mention Orfia.
She smiled to herself a little while thinking about it. Only to frown as she saw Roslyn running toward her. Why was she in a hurry? Orfia braced herself and smiled, although a bit awkwardly, and stepped toward her, saying, "Could we have a talk in a bit, or whenever you have the time?" They were the very words she had been rehearsing since yesterday... but Roslyn had already run past her, clearly not hearing a word she had just said. And Orfia was left standing there, all alone, and feeling rather sheepish.
All the courage she had had to muster, and this was the situation she found herself in? Embarrassing.
She turned around and looked as Roslyn ran. She could feel her cheeks flare up, and she couldn't help but cover them with her palms. Cold met the warmth of her cheeks, and she stayed still for a moment, and ended the moment with a sigh.
Orfia turned around, back toward the temple. She might as well wait for Roslyn inside... by the end of the day, they would certainly have their conversation. Besides, maybe this was much better, now she at least had much more time to think about what she really wanted to say...
But as she was about to take a step forth, the earth around her shook, and she found herself among the leaves, unable to go against the power of the world around her. It lasted for only a few seconds, yet the moment felt much longer. And when it stopped, she found herself on her back, looking up at the cloudy heavens.
An earthquake? When had something like that ever happened so far up north? They were much more common in the south, she had learned, but even then, one might find oneself amid one perhaps once a decade.
At least the sky was nice. The clouds were pretty... even that black one that seemed to move faster than the others. She sighed. It might rain later today.
Orfia got up and ruffled her dress, removing a leaf from her hair. She made her way toward the temple, opening its grand doors and stepping in, shutting them behind her. It was warm in the temple, and the painting of the Angel looked down on her, although, because of the earthquake, it found itself at a crooked angle.
Orfia snorted. Perhaps an overzealous priest would throw a fit at the sight, or even find it to be a sign of some sort. She shook her head and took a seat by one of the benches, quickly immersing herself in the conversation that was ahead of her.
- - -
Vien stood by a room that had stayed empty for far too long. Before, she had had the hope that it might one day be refilled, but now, it could only be refurnished. There was no point in waiting for something that would never happen; instead, it was time to move on. The time to seek out, instead of uselessly waiting.
But even then, it was difficult. A room like this had significance to it, for it held a memory, although one that wasn't entirely hers, nor was it one that was equally understood or thought about by the two parties who were involved with said memory, for they had their own perspectives on the matter. Their feelings were different. And Kanrel was dead.
In truth, it had been a long time since she had truly thought about it. For the room had become just a room, only a few years after Kanrel had disappeared. So in a way, she had already moved on, but hadn't noticed or realized that she had. And only because of Roslyn's return did the memory reemerge with the bittersweet flavor of thoroughly filtered nostalgia, per the years that had gone by.
She softly smiled and stepped inside. The room was really just a guest bedroom that she had planned to turn into her child's room if she were to have one of her own one day. But it had stayed empty ever since Kanrel moved out to his own house at the temple. And she barely even went inside, if only ever to clean the dust.
A bed, a small table, a few shelves, all mostly empty, and a book, or rather a journal, that Kanrel had left behind. He never came back to ask for it. Back then, Vien had foolishly believed that the young man had left the book behind on purpose, so as to have a reason to return upstairs one day. That day just never came.
She sighed. And picked up the journal, browsing through it again, like she had done many times before; though it had been years since she had done so the last time. Perhaps it was time she returned it to where it belonged… but only after reading through it just one final time. There was no harm to it, now was there? It wasn't like the text inside was exceedingly personal. Though some of it certainly was. Like the mention of someone known as 'Yirn' and his death, and a few others.
However, it mostly was about some daily things, as well as matters that were far too religious for Vien to care about. Like there was a quote, that was apparently from the Book of the Heralds, which Vien had never read for herself, so she could assume that was the case... The quote mentioned something about 'the Other' and 'an ending from and for below', some really cryptic stuff. She usually ignored the entries related to the religious side of things, instead focusing on the personal. That was much more interesting, and back in the day, it made Vien feel like she understood Kanrel much better. This singular journal was enough for Vien to understand that the young man was troubled, guilt-ridden, and lonely.
Reading it was what had made her fall for him in the first place. Or had she just pitied him? Vien wasn't certain, and another sigh escaped her lips. She closed the book, knowing that she shouldn't read through it again. Doing so would only make her linger.
But as the journal was closed, the building began to shake. All around, Vien could hear things coming into contact with each other. She found herself leaning against the wall, the journal pressed against her chest, panic filling her from within.
It lasted for a few moments, and when it was done, Vien was already making her way downstairs. Returning the journal could wait; she needed to check whether there had been any damage to her valuable property. What if cups or windows had broken? How would she be able to serve her many customers?
- - -
The world is a busy place, where things happen all the time ad nauseam, and most just try their best to keep up with changes that occur, lest they be drowned and left behind.
Not Yviev, though. She had always been more diligent than most. Each day was planned ahead, though of course there were some things that she wouldn't be able to account for. But in essence, the environment she worked in generally formed similar issues, or unexpected changes throughout the day, so the things she wasn't able to expect were actually just similar enough things, which meant that she already had the necessary skills and knowledge to make the right decisions when such an unexpected thing came her way.
Thus, her work at the Academic Hospital was a routine from which she rarely had to divert, for there was no need.
Sure, sometimes she had students who were idiots, but it was okay; she could contend with it. And of course, some of her patients weren't so patient with her or with whichever ailment was the reason they found themselves in her hospital.
Some died much sooner than they were supposed to because of this. If only they knew to wait for Yviev to first pronounce that there was nothing to be done. One would think that it was common courtesy, even for patients.
And sure, Yviev herself might not have the needed patience to deal with so many people, but what else was she to do? How else would she be able to advance the field of medicine further? How else was she to understand how things like tumors, cancers, and other inexplicable diseases came to be, and how else would she heal them?
For that, she needed patients, or people, if you want to be nice about it...
So why the hell had someone had the bright idea to summon her outside of her hospital, to partake in some useless meeting between faculty and donors, or whatever? This wasn't one of those unexpected things that she had expected to happen. For this, she barely had a personalized plan of approach.
So, the question then becomes as such... How is she to streamline this meeting in a manner that would allow her to practically partake, yet quickly leave, hopefully within just a few minutes?
She stepped onto the courtyard path, the familiar park surrounding her. Students went by her, both novices and your usual suspects, or the so-called 'to-be scholars.'
Thankfully, those 'scholars' knew to step past her, onto the grass if needed, so as not to be on her way. No one wanted to be, rightfully, yelled at for wasting her time.
Everything about the courtyard was the same. The pond was still there, and so were the few trees. Even the benches were the same, although carefully maintained to keep their usual shape as well as their usual location. And even if things were practically exactly the same, Yviev held no nostalgia toward it. People like Kanrel and Yirn, or Uanna and Wei, did not come to her mind. Not ever, really. Since the benches had been used by so many people, and since Yviev had walked through this damned courtyard far too many times to count.
Walking. She almost spat. There was too much useless walking. It would've been helpful if she could have been in this meeting, or whatever, in the safety of her hospital, while taking care of a patient, or while working on her next thesis.
Honestly, she should've suggested that they have the meeting in the hospital. But no! They had decided to inform them of it on the day, so that she wouldn't be able to even suggest such a beneficial and practical solution for this crisis they were having!
But... an empty smile came to her lips as she entered the library. She already had a plan. Oh yes, she did.
Today, it seemed, that the library was off limits for students, and the restaurant a few floors up was where the actual meeting would happen. There were already many guests around. Nobles, rich merchants, valued members of their society, and the less-so valued faculty members, the teachers, the professors, and even the Grand Priest were present. The old man hadn't grown any more jovial throughout the years, and he must've been eighty by now...
Would he develop symptoms of dementia? Yviev pondered as she entered the restaurant, looking around, until her eyes locked on something, or rather, someone: Ewen Oidus, her beloved teacher, mentor, and from this moment on, the person on whom Yviev would place her simple demand.
She walked toward her, stepping past guests and faculty members alike. Professor Oidus noticed her, and a frown had begun forming on her already wrinkled face. Certainly, she knew what was coming.
"Good afternoon, dearest Professor Oidus! How does your laboratory fare? Any new—" Yviev said as she was reaching her, but Oidus suddenly stood forth and placed her hand over Yviev's mouth.
Yviev fought against the urge to bite her, but soon found herself being pulled by Oidus to the side. When they reached a spot further away from curious ears and prying eyes, Oidus spoke with a hushed voice, "You can't be doing this to me, again…"
"I can't do this anymore... You can't just use me as an excuse to get out of important meetings," she complained.
Yviev smiled, of course, without true humor or pleasure. She was a priest after all. "Yes, I can. In fact, I can do so for as long as you keep blowing up your laboratory, and not just yours, but also mine. I don't know why you keep asking me to clean and hide the fact that it had happened each time... You'd think that by now you would know better," Yviev explained, her voice starting as a whisper, but quickly becoming louder.
Oidus looked around them, hushing Yviev again. "Alright, alright. I'll do it... just leave before the actual meeting begins…"
Yviev couldn't be more pleased. She tapped Oidus on the shoulder, whispering, "I knew I could count on you." Then, she stormed off. Minutes, it had taken just minutes to do all this. But even then, she wasn't nearly as pleased as she could be. The only thing that she could really think of was this: Minutes, she had wasted minutes...
She stepped back onto the courtyard walkway, but as she did, she saw something she hadn't expected; a potent feeling of dread filled her. A dark cloud far in the sky quickly came closer from the north, casting a shadow beneath it, darkening even the mountains that had just moments before reflected the autumn sun.
This did not bode well. She could feel it in her bones, but even then she pushed the feeling aside. She couldn't waste a second longer on things that were out of her control. Her patients needed her, and she was running out of patience.
- - -
Uanna handed the note that she had written to Norlen, who glanced at Mitry. She could see the wordless exchange through so clearly: Norlen asked for permission, and Mitry gave it with a nod. The two thought that they were so slick with it, it would've been amusing only if Uanna could feel such an emotion.
Instead, she sighed and thanked the young man, stepping away from him and making her way back to the bundles of firewood that she had created. The piles were already becoming smaller as the villagers carried them away to the safety of their homes, away from potential rain.
Her time in the village had been very fruitful so far. She had kept her 'disguise' and reason for being here hidden and intact. The villagers, as well as Mitry, all believed by now that she was here just because of normal priestly duties. None of them knew what she knew about them.
This little commune was a cult, and Uanna had known about it for a month. She had been stationed in Herelt for a few years now, and for a while now, there had been rumors about this village and its nefarious ways. Though some details were rather interesting... Uanna had read some reports from decades back, and in them she found some mentions about people disappearing, be they villagers or travelers, but these disappearances had suddenly stopped. Right around eight or nine years ago, at around Mitry's emergence.
In the reports, there wasn't much about him. Only that he was the leader of the village, and that some priests had had some good encounters with him, noting his leadership abilities and charisma, as well as the betterment of living conditions in the village.
Uanna's job was to investigate areas where cult activity had been rumored, then assess the danger levels of these areas, and to find out if there were any actual cults, or if there were just your run-of-the-mill bandits causing havoc.
And in this case, cult activity was more than clear. Although Mitry was clearly an intelligent fellow, he certainly wasn't as smart as he thought himself to be...
But somehow the situation here was more complicated than your average cult: there were no recent mentions of human sacrifice, no evidence of a harem created by a lustful cult leader, and not even monetary corruption that seems to be quite common in cults that Uanna had had the pleasure of observing and investigating.
Because of all of this, she had no idea what to do about it. And she couldn't even ask for guidance from the Priesthood, since she wasn't able to report anything... 'Father' Mitry had his hands in everything, so she could not send any message freely from here. Even the message that she had sent mentioned only the arrival of the strange cloud and nothing else...
Uanna glanced at the darkening skies. She felt sudden dread as a question arose within: 'How was she to deal with this mess without getting caught?'
- - -
Duty gives meaning, and meaning gives reason to keep going; it fights against the absurd, giving a moment where a woman can breathe as she lives through another day. Allowing her to find goodness in the Angels, as she studies their texts, and fulfills their creed.
Wei followed her duty as does any inquisitor of the Priesthood. By readying herself for any encounter against rogue priests, or even the return of the Wildkin, or the prophesied arrival of the Otherkind.
Thus, she must train among her peers. Exchanging codes through duels and combat, reading through the words of the Heralds and the Angels so as to know their will, so as to enact it.
Long ago, Wei had left behind her earthly desires. All priests did so during the Ritual. Before it, she had felt the warm embrace of faith during every moment of her life, even during difficulties.
But now, she couldn't feel it. Or at least, she was unable to recognize it. She could only believe that it still remained. That it existed beneath the blessing the Angels had bestowed upon her.
This was duty, and she had accepted it. This despair she felt without the innate feeling of love from her gods; she had to believe that it was right, that it was good. For she carried the weight of torment and sorrow on her shoulders and within her heart. She carried it so that she could have the ability to do her duty.
So, she exchanged another code via combat with her training partner, Sirius, who had been her trainer during her time at the Academy. Although the man was much older, he was still nimble and skilled in combat.
To Wei, Sirius was the perfect example of servitude, of duty through dedication and faith.
But sadly, they had to stop for the day, for Sirius had other duties he had to attend to, and so did Wei, for it was her turn to man the walls; to pry past them, toward each cardinal direction.
To the west was the sea, or rather, the Bay of Ca'Leth, as well as the Coasts of Zuria, where most of the major cities of the Kingdom lay, like Lo'Gran and Er'Eren.
To the south was the Great Desert... a barren land from where Wildkin had invaded long ago. Once a lush green land, now just sand, ruins, and bones that one could certainly find if one wanted to search.
To the east were the Three Peaks, a sight that would fill any believer with both awe and fear, for they were mountains where the Angels lived, supposedly. Sadly, Wei could no longer feel that awe—she only felt fear. But she had to believe that feeling of fear was just confused awe. She regretted not coming here before the Ritual. Just how much would she give to experience this sight with a heart that could still feel?
And then, to the north lay the lands where all men lived. Be it in settlements in the northwest or the northeast, all life that mattered was there. This fortress by the edge of the Kingdom was the last bastion of humanity just before a grand desert, past which nothing lived.
Looking back toward the north, she felt such longing. Even though her duty was here, for now, she longed to be among the people. She longed to feel again what she had felt in her childhood. All she had wanted to do was to help others, and to do so, she had given everything. Now, she had to believe that what she had done and given was the correct thing to do and to give.
She leaned against the battlements and sighed. She gazed toward the north, but... it somehow looked different than what it was supposed to? Strange, even. There was a dark cloud that seemed to approach. Wei hesitated for a moment, but shrugged the feeling away, returning to the duty at hand: Another lap around the battlements and making sure that there was no danger from any direction.
- - -
She stood at the balcony overlooking the city of Lo'Gran with an Angel by her side. Though the city sprawled beneath her, her gaze was set toward the north, at the site from where her dread came, toward where her nightmares manifested from.
She dared not look at the Angel; she knew not to, by now. She didn't want to feel so insignificant; it was enough that she could do nothing about the destiny that was ahead of her and her people. Time had run its course, and she knew where things were heading. The Angel had told her so, and she had believed every word, for they had never been wrong... too much they had shared with her; too much had she seen...
Far in the north, a cloud of ink had taken root, like a tree it reached for the heavens, slowly covering the sun and its light; blackening even the clouds and veiling all beneath its own shadow.
But even then, she shook her head and found herself saying, "And so, even this must happen…"
The Angel beside her was silent for a moment, then turned to look behind, toward the door to the balcony. "And death claims what is hers, only to give life in return, fulfilling her duality…"
The woman bit her lip, despair stirring within. Was there really nothing they could've done? She wanted to ask, but did not. There was so much regret and bitterness within her. If only she had her son with her, then she could at least find some solace in him. But no. Kanrel wasn't here, and long gone were the days of truly loving another.
"Locked," she almost spat. "Imprisoned, those you know as the other."
"Waiting for the lock to open; waiting for the ascension; to breach the surface; to usurp those above," the Angel soon followed, their gaze still set toward the door.
"Punished for betrayal; conquered and then enslaved by the shadows; by those within, around, and above," the woman continued, the despair stirring further, mixing with the rest of her.
"Bloodshed, famine, death," the Angel said, spreading its wings.
"An ending from and for below," the woman and the Angel pronounced in unison… but from behind, she heard an echo, a whisper...
The Herald turned around to see, but there was no one there. Even the Angel had left her side. And she was left alone with only despair as her company.
- - -
The darkness spread, like ink released from between the gills of an octopus; so it spread, like a cloud of darkness beneath the waves, covering all else. But not as a swift release, but as a constant that soon covered the sun; not wholly, for some of its light could still pierce through, for its radiance was the purest that men knew. Its red light cast itself upon the dark earth. It had become so cold so suddenly. For a while, the warmth would linger; then winter would come, and with winter, death would arrive, holding hands with winter's chill, until the season itself became another word for death.
Dreadful beauty, a dark flower in bloom. Let your shadow embrace the earth below; let your beauty bless the living with the grace of death.