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Ch1- Waking of the Realm
SARA - A Christian Fantasy Novel by Cynthia Handloser
For two thousand centuries the Ethereal realm’s absentness was left to
abandoned dreams. Still and sweet the atmosphere lay in a gross stasis.
The ranges and valleys rest in a never-ending silence. All become lost
about motionless seas and skies hiding within the tint of a vast forever
green. Not one blade of grass or silvery leaf shook upon the plains. Not
one blue flake of snow melted or rounded rock rolled the slightest
measurement in the mountains. There was no provocation upon the Journey
Fields at all. Void of obstacles lay lush miles upon miles of fields of
green prairie. A plane of yellow dandelion and dandelion seed rose over
the endless ground cover of jade grass glistening in the warming sun.
The
Guardians of the realm had the upkeep of an Eden to consider. This Eden
spouted out of Faesyde’s Paradise. The lofty Stones had stopped the
airy realm before the Seven Centuries War between the inhabitants of
Creatures and Watchers destroyed their purpose for the Creator. This
Eden consisted of mist and a shallow stonewall of a pit surrounding a
radiant and bright, colorless light. Eight stones stood in a circle
almost perfect, at one time perfect. The Stones were giants, square
megaliths with glowing gems seven feet from the ground centered half way
up their height. Towers of power they stood tall. All the realms inhabitants were lost to the slumber and almost immediately their essence sent back to the elements in which they were born. The Frog Folk (Myo-naiad, Tardigra-naiad, Meri-naiad, and the Manus-naiad with their different races of bearers or mystics, princes and princesses, boatmen, and sirens) faded into puddles of sweat and vapor. The Filiotype (Dark Scorpions and the White Healers) fell to dust and the Watcher’s wings left on the breeze. The great fire-dragons and fire-furies were charred into oblivion by a bolt of lightning or a moment of combustion disappeared.
There was The Nameless, the Master of Dreams, he had foreseen the
Powers’ spite and was able to spare the Faesyde’ Gate Keepers and
most of the Unformed spirits, but the Shape-shifters and the Daemons of
old had to flee back to which they came. These few were all that
remained out of the Stones’ reach and ruin. In the years that passed,
these few dwelled alone in peace during the era of The Great Sleep. This was so until one extraordinary eve, out of The Deep, rifts of sound came like heavy waves wrestling with the air. The elastic ground trembled of something’s arrival. Small sparks of static electricity sizzled and died about the air. The smell of smoke lingered. Within an echo, flashes of blue light streaked into a blue blur about flying dandelion seed. This arrival had parted the mist of Paradise and intensified the pit of Eden into a swirling pool. As the stasis began to lift, the sacred light glistened below the Guardians softly beckoning their names. The giant Guardians begin to stir yet they don’t turn to notice the strange, blue Creature taking shape from the mist of form outside their sacred circle.
“Wake up,” the cherubim spirit whispers to the elastic ground as she flies by and stokes a blade of grass. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” she shouts as she cuffs her catty mouth and slowly starts to accelerate her voice to
the wind! “Wake
up I said,” as her long and narrow needlelike fingers form to pluck on
the spatial Web of Faesyde’. “Does no one hear me?” Her humor and exasperation begins to make her scales glow with a bright yellow hue. Suddenly out of the exploding light burst Scalier booming an uncanny giggle and then a call, “WAKE UP!”
The megaliths begin to tremble, quake and rumble.
“Oh no! They are angry!” Scalier scoffs as her eyes enlarge with
awe.
A shrilling hum fills the air as one by one the mighty giants
turn and shoot flashes of colorful light out of their gems (one
sapphire, one jade, one crimson, one white…). The Blue Manx freezes
with pain as each beam knocks her back with a loud pop standing her fur
on end.
The Scalier knows not to fight as she tucks her wings about her.
Excited, frozen and paralyzed she shakes, as one by one the element
Stones study her at will. Drawing nearer, the Guardians examine her
dreadfully and hold her essence in their mists. With one wrong move or
one wrong thought the Scalier may be drained of her existence on
Faesyde’ and her psyche set back to the collective heavens of which
she came.
Inside Scalier’s head she hears: 'She
is trouble… She
is unlike the Watcher kind and reigns as living water in the realm… She
has a message running though her… She
is very bold to tempt us… She
did succeed in her goal…
At what price… She
is aware we will destroy her for her actions… Then
she should be vanished… She
holds hope and faith inside her. With
this she broke our spell… That
is not unlike a Watcher, they want destruction… Maybe
she comes to trick us… She is still a loose being and her presence is a bridge of the commandments … She
follows the Creator… WHAT!
Scalier breaks in boldly and does not move an inch, “You have no choice! Yes, You protect this Eden, but you forgot you guard and guide the beings you design and instruct with the power the Creator gave you. This is borrowed
power.
The Creator broke your spell. I am only his instrument to set the airy
realm back into motion.”
'How
could that be? She
has a journal of a human kind… Sara’s
journal… Another
thing that should not be… Yet
it has happened and it has come to be…
The Guardians hold her into the inter circle of light as they badger her judgment and prowl her loyalty to the Creator. Scalier begins to stumble around and fall. Passing out on the cool elastic contained in the light, she dreams of being woken by the seraph and passes their test. Leaving the Manx be, no longer able to avoid a vast and waking realm about them, the Guardians began to take shape. The Earth Stone is the first to arouse. She appears screaming out of a green mist as white lightning strikes upon the Air Stone. The Fire Stone is instantaneously set ablaze and ignites into a revelation of form and shadow. The Water Stone primarily appears shy to only bleed and implode as one by one the pebbles turn to tiny water droplets. The Guardians ignite and illuminate, Earth an emerald green, Air a pristine white, Fire radiates a hearty red and Water a crystalline blue.
The
Season Stones stir as well. Summer’s catatonic state, broken into a
confused and disturbed questioning, livens to a smile. His stature,
which had once been tall and erect, slowly begins to slump slightly as
his bright blonde locks lift with the wind. Feeling the breeze, Fall
peaks with one cracked and cranky eye as his stone flesh slowly morphs
into a shade shy of pale. Winter slept uneasy. He had been in his peek
of pride when the Stones decided without his vote to put the realm on a
cosmic pause and stop the Seven Centuries War. Blackened was his shell
and deep and sunken were his features. Of all the Stones, Winter was the
only one that had ever fallen. Spring was solidified with a shocked and
surprised look of horror on her face as if her chaste sense had been
enlightened by a wicked dream. Of all the Stones, she alone vowed it
wrong what they had done to the realm. For they dwell on Faesyde’ only
in spirit and ‘shadow and yet a dream of what they really are.
Earth’s green hide glistened in the summer sun as her hand reached out to brush the face of the Blue Manx. Ah-la-Nae then began to speak, “You must wake child…” Scalier wearily lifts her head and with heavy eyes looks at the Stones illusively.
In her mind the voices began
again: 'They
are coming… She
has begun madness… How
are we to handle the masses? One
by one… They
will destroy the Eden…
The pit lowers it’s light to a small cradle for a candle. “No they will not when they hear the story,” stirring beneath the Guardian’s towering forms, within their shadows the Blue Manx trembles and coughs as she brushes herself off to speak, “They all want one thing—the truth! I have Sara’s journal. I have read about our ways and our history through her eyes. I didn’t realize how beautiful Faesyde’ was or how timeless I myself am until another being,
not from my realm,
left me this quiet observation.” want and what they need. Please, this story is one I need to tell. Faesyde’ will go on.” 'They
will destroy her… She
will die… She
will die with the Creator’s love… We
will allow this… I
say… She
can hear you… Silence!
The Guardians break their bond with the Scalier and the Water Stone slowly steps closer speaking out loud. “I never speak to a part of creation other then my own element.” Her liquidity interweaves and contorts to form long blue limbs to embrace the Manx, “Here we are, but as an illusion of the authority we have as you say borrowed. Yet as we test you, you test us in return. You have passed. Hopefully we will as well together pass some greater test. If this you feel is your destiny then we will allow what you ask. The Gathering will take place. That we can‘t stop. We will protect you if the possibility of your end should begin to become a reality. We could fail you know. Do you understand me Scalier? Nothing is absolute, not here, not ever?”
Scalier replied with a shifty answer,
“Except that, right?” “Do not tease me!” the Water stone bullies at the Blue Manx as she releases her firmly on the elastic.“ You are of my element on Faesyde’ and I hold the key to your existence while you dwell here. This you should not
test,
but know as a fact.” Scalier’s eyes glow to soon die out. In the Fair Heavens she would be giving the commands, but here she
simply nodded
with hurt wide unworthy eyes, “All too well, all too well.”
The
Fire Stone, seeing the woe and passion contained by the Manx, vowed with
an eye of fury to ignite a flame in Scalier’s honor. Now they awaited
the masses arrival as the evening settled in late. An
Angel’s Sorrow
As time passed slowly, the Manx sat thinking of the past and
present hoping her future was the one she had envisioned. Scalier had
fled from the Spiritual. In Faesyde’ she passed herself off as the
Blue Manx, Gatekeeper of The Deep. Yet she was still a cherub no longer
able to sing the praises of the Creator amongst the wars that lay
outside the Fair Heavens. For this humiliation she fled unable to know
forgiveness or feel the sorrow to weep. For one endless moment she
turned her head from the chorus and saw the murder, the death, the pain,
the punishment and misery outside of the High Spiritual realm. Within
this she stepped out of her place, her voice, beauty or love. So in The
Deep of Faesyde’ she waited for the Creator to find her and rebuke
her; and yet every day she entered the next she left with more
self-inflicted guilt and a view of a forgiving Creator’s face. As
a cherub, she did not understand what it was she felt, but as the Manx
she learned and was able to know. Her job was not to fight such battles
as Michael or the other seraphim. She was not designed to understand
what she had seen there. Oh, why had she turned her head from the
Creator? Was it his will for she knew no other? Then how was she to be
in this realm? The journal was the only answer she had and no more could
Scalier’s conscience allow her to fail at her duties since, beyond a
doubt, the Creator had lifted the spell of sleep upon her by the
Stones… The Blue Manx had but one fate that most of the beings in Faesyde’ had grown to forget. She was terrible lonely there. Within the eastern waters of Faesyde’ she dwelled, heaven and sea ceased to be separate. She was the balance where in. The Deep collected madness, confusion and double standards of the realm. Magical bonds of water flowed liquid like in thought, shape and emotion until one could not be without the other or without any part that would regularly counter it.
The
sorrow and happiness of Scalier made sense only in The Deep of
Faesyde’. It was believed that out of the pressure contained there the
elements Water and Air was given birth. At times, Scalier would talk of
seeing a face she believed was of the Creator’s. Most other Watchers
thought her crazy for the Younger didn’t believe the Creator existed.
And if they were of the old Grigori (or whatever the true Elders called
themselves) they knew the Creator existed, but just wouldn’t except it
anymore. Although
the Younger thought her the one crazy, they had remarkable respect for
the Manx. She had been the storyteller of their time in which she spoke
of the Spiritual realm and of the Creator. These times she was the old
Scalier and not the Manx. Some
knew she dwelled in apart of Faesyde that was not cut off entirely from
the Spiritual. With this they felt she might actually know a way back to
that Spiritual realm, yet not one dared to fight her for the secret. The
Blue Manx’s claws cut as razors and could snip their wings to where
the Younger opposing her would never be able to fly again. If that
happened in The Deep, the Younger knew they were sure to die. The Manx
was more then wings, she was liquid herself. There she was not just the
Blue Manx and the Scalier, but as well as The Deep. The Manx was rather set back by the other angels that dwelled in the Ethereal as loose beings. Most Watcher’s could pass through any realm if need be. Faesyde’ was haunted by these beings which most of the time imposed themselves upon the inhabitants. The Younger was literally mad and set on destroying the Realms of Spirit. They didn’t like being of a realm that they felt was a lie or they couldn’t see for themselves. Many felt if they could find the servitude angels they could either kill them for the knowledge they sought or get them to show them the Realms of Spirit where they would then take over. Others simply felt their Elders wronged them by their actions and for this innocent curse it was the Younger’s right to destroy what ever they touched. They saw themselves as damned and no Savior was atoning for them. Foolish and restless, wild and untamable the Younger attitude made way across the land and more truth of the Watchers’ past vanished within it. The Elder Watchers, as angels, had either descend from grace by remaining docile when the Wars of the Spiritual were fought and fled to Faesyde’ or were sent away to Faesyde’ wild and uncontrolled. Amazingly the ones who fled and fought to keep out the demons (fallen angels transformed into hideousness) kept their wings and abilities. The ones who hide from the Creator, the Grigori, simply in shock of the war made the spiritual Web that surrounded Faesyde’ and didn’t ever fly again. With this they hoped the Creator would see they did fight and by closing off the Spiritual and Realistic realms from the parts of the Ethereal they claimed they were not interfering. Maybe with this, the Creator may have mercy on them. Spirits of weary angels in the Wars of the Spiritual were loose in the Ethereal as Gate Keepers, Warriors of Protection, and Hunters that held great knowledge and judgment. Scalier was not the only one who knew this, but more had to see it for the dreadfulness it really was. She had been devout not to label or judge any of them for she knew all to well that was the Creator’s one and only right. The
Gathering Begins In the intervening time, the Manx and the Stones feel the revolution of unrest brewing in the atmosphere. Dust rises and whips. Fanning out of this dust the Creatures began to rise on the Journey Fields while far away out of The Deep a steady thump, the moving wings of the Watchers pound. Free in the light of the land, shaky and confused the beings slowly rouse and take form moving together in awe of one another. A low hum turns to a broad murmur elevated with sighs and whispers then to shouts of amazement, flapping wings and shifting, fretful feet. Excitement bursts and spreads into a chant. Within minutes passion builds and voices rise into a sweet symphony. Calls of horns and animals sound loudly in the ambiance of the ethereal.
Upon the horizon, a dark cloud hovers moving violently toward the
prairie. Out of the chaos of wings and mist, the loose and wild angels
step foot once again upon the Creatures’ land. Swallowing up the
masses, an uneasy hush falls sharply as the beings anger to the
darkness. Heavy their cowering turns to panic and madness, while other
Creatures calm them, unsure why the Watchers are with them on their
Journey Fields. On guard, the beings stand mystified, divided and again
ready for war. Not too aware of the past war and the moment that brought
them to this point, they pondered was it possible so many to be departed
from both sides? They begin to wonder what was taking place back at the
battle? Had they all perished? Was the war so horrific that they had
destroyed so many innocent beings? There were now so many of their kind
on their way to the Stones themselves that had never been in battle.
“What happened,” they asked one another in a passing whisper through
out The Gathering? The war had collected many fleets of Watchers that
was with them in the battle to arrive at this point of their journey.
Maybe it was their reward to see how many had perished? Maybe it was
their punishment to see how many was unknowingly taken by the war?
The Creatures, whom were so deadly convinced they were on their way to
Paradise, swore they would not fight or question the Guardians’
decision. They were awaiting judgment. The Stones would pass their will
upon them. They would not jinx this. The Guardians had always been in
control of the rite of passage. Although the majority believed the
elements would reward them into a new consciousness within a new realm
where there were no confounded loosed angels, there had never been any
guarantee. This must be some kind of trick, test or trap.
The enlightened beings buzz busy as bees spreading the word, herding the
Creatures, and making the traditional pilgrimage towards Eden for their
last rites. Completely threw off by the actions and words of the
Creatures’, all of the Watchers’ alarm heightened and wondered if by
chance they actually were going to this rite of passage? Did the Creator
deem this so worthy? Talk of such divided the fleets of Watcher’s as
many broke off in weaker numbers. Although some beings began to think
they were alive and not dead, talk of the war led them on to where
little they knew enough to avoid killing each other a second time.
As the Stones and Scalier prepared for the masses, none of them worried
if the beings’ march was starting to turn cruel or what to do. There
was little they could actually do to harm one another on the prairie.
Most the inhabitants avoided the Journey Fields. There was nothing, but
the dead there and the dead tended to themselves. The
Creatures don’t want to follow Watchers into Paradise though and this
could be bothersome collecting them all again. Scalier was quite content
to know they were not yet so spiteful to break into battle. She knew the
Creatures’ felt they might be sent somewhere they would have to share
with Watchers and that was inexcusable, for they were not cursed beings!
(Creatures being the rightful inhabitants of Faesyde’). How
many times had Scalier wondered why they were all here in this realm and
how long was the Creator going to allow it. Not much longer she knew
somehow. Anxiety shook the Blue Manx and she moved with the greatest
haste prancing back and forth.
It remained for two days just talk of war and then the days followed
with some peace. The Air Stone gave Scalier a calming day-by-day account
of the masses for she had the power of sight.
“Slowly they move.’” spoke Ah-shy-di, the Air Stone. “Separating groups develop and a few disappear out of sight. They all are herded into race or motto. The Creatures gather together in camps at night and whispers fill their quarters. The Watchers’ ears are glued to the ground. If there were to be an attack it would surely come from below or on stealth feet. During the Seven Centuries War, the Creatures had figured out stampedes only made the winged Watchers fly away and drop bombs of fire upon them. The Creatures that could fly couldn’t fly as far and high as any Watcher. This of course did no damage to the Creatures, but no matter what they believe they will still fight in this
manner
to clip the Watchers’
wings.“ The Manx spoke, “Still all the Creatures’ only wish is to remain separate at this time even though some were
planning
how to defend themselves also from a Watchers attack? How so were they
conducting this?” The Air Stone sighs and looked rather annoyed by what she was going to reply, ”They no longer attack from above. The pain of a stake being jabbed into their wings, as the Creature rejoins with its element had been a misery and mortal wound of many a Watcher. So the battle was one of trickery, deception, and surprise as well as ambush. Elemental traps were common deaths. The assassin and occasional spy had been big in the late part of the war. Either way, the ones who were neutral knew someone who wasn’t and it only took common sense to know they was safer on some side then not on a side at all. It is not so much the fighting itself that kills them, but the mindset behind it that damages the Creatures. They begin to neglect their duties on Faesyde’ and the land suffers, then they suffer as their element suffers. Watchers fade out in time, especially the Younger, but being without their wings sorrows them
and
the pain fades them. Angels should never know sorrow. It is too much for
them to bear. ”
Scalier dropped her head and wept silently knowing all to well the words
spoken to her. The day came and passed and was interrupted, “Ah-Kyil-ah-kil-ji!“ The Air Stone burst out at the Earth Stone hotly,
”Some
of the beings know they live. You will have to enchant the land!”
Upon seeing a few that decided to preach about being alive cast out, the
strays (as they were dubbed) decided to silently leave the camp and
hence stray away home or planned more trouble and most things they did
was passed off as trials on the way to the promise of Faesyde’. No
matter how many times the beings attacked them or pulled tricks on the
others, the camp pressed on and either aware of it or not so did the
strays with the masses.
One of the strays among them known as Frizzy was an odd sort. He simply
decided, alive or dead, he was going to go home and see if any thing had
survived the dreadful war. He, being a Frog Folk of the humble and ever
obedient Manus-naiads, had grown to three feet tall or fifin hinden
dafogin and a hundred pounds or flur housen tarins in Frog Folk tongue.
To the Frog Folk, Frizzy was quite ideally big for even a Manus.
The basic map of Faesyde’ was designed by this fellow Frizzy, but it
was the Dream Master of Sacron who instructed him into the task. Water
element of Faesyde’ began weakening with the war. It was either do
this task or tend to the wither of tadpoles. Frizzy really didn’t
resist. However, his longing was not to leave his homeland of Hafta in
order to do so. So it was The Nameless he blamed for putting the fear of
death and wonder-lust in his feet to teach him the passageways of the
land. So Frizzy kept a copy of the map on him at all times that shifted
as the land shifted. It was a gift. Enchanted and constructed with the
finest elastic of the land, this map was a glowing parchment of secrets.
One ol’ Frizzy kept for his eyes only.
Over
time he kind of grew out of the warring philosophy to one very like his
own meandering. While planning his deliberate departure, he plotted a
course. In appearance, he continued on as mindless with the masses until
they reached near the renowned Sacron, a silver city of the dreamers. He
would pluck the Web and walk it up into the city he usually tried
desperately to avoid and down to the forest of Hafta. Frizzy was going
west to Hafta as the masses would take the east route. He’d leave them
alone as his philosophy then endeavored him to do.
He collected as much water element as he could find about their route
near the Sea of Paths in case he needed it for the streams, ponds, and
rivers he loved to dwell. This made him rather large and glow blue.
Frizz’s first calling was to the water basins of his folk. Who else
but a giant frog? Faesyde’ seemed to keep the little frog hopping to
and fro with no sign of easing up. Purely water Creatures was extremely
rare, because they were helpless in the scheme of things of Faesyde’.
It didn’t support them with much water except for the seas. Yet it was
mostly the small ponds and streams were the Water Stone decided the
water Creatures would go. He
didn’t seem to mind for it kept his thoughts off his sorrows.
Frizz had no son, he had no mate so where the map got off to was not his
concern doubtfully then he would ever die! As one would think, when he
thought he was dead, he waited for sure The Nameless would have taken
the map before now. Oh, there it was and ol’ Frizz felt one had been
pulled over on him in the after life. As he brooded it over the last day
of the pilgrimage, The Nameless came to him cloaked in evening shadow to
make certain the map was safe. Frizzy held it out and demanded he take
it cause it was their deal. With the actions of the Dream Master Frizzy
figured it out, he was not dead.
“Ah-la-Nae
why, why a wee frog!” Frizzy exclaimed.
Afterward, time passed quickly with the brooding and fussing beings. It
seemed to help the mass press on. The whole valley below Sacron was
full. The children was playing in the bushes and making strange little
games up as if they were centuries old. Still innocent, the very young
races mixed enjoying each other. Unaware of the conflicts around them,
the conflicts were as unending and meaningless as the little games were
to the bigger beings.
The Unformed noticed movement of the beings presence in the valley. With
the Shifters and the Daemons of old behind them, these rogues began to
transform into trees, mounds and lizard kind to sneak about. After a bit
of trickery and harassment, they questioned and probed the races Finding no real answer to the cause of events, off to Eden they went at lightning speeds to see what waited there. Each Shifter was concerned in the creation of new beings to shift into. If the rumors were true, the Unformed wanted it to be a lie. They enjoyed more allotted stasis and not more beings roaming about. The Daemons, merely curious, appeared first at Eden since they knew the way with ease.
Calmly they circled the Eden as the Blue Manx chilled unfriendly into a hiss, a snarl and a growl.
“You
need to heed your invitation.” “Hush…sh pensive one. Our will is not upon your head. We come to claim the dead. As of now the undead should I
say
Ah-Shi-di? Surely the Air Guardian will have its way with you old
cherubim sprite. Don’t trust her kindness”
“I
am no sprite you fiend.” The Manx snarled to no avail of the Daemon.
The Shifters took form in the sacred circle of megaliths. The Air
Guardian parted the path for them. First was a Shifter called SkkyBlue.
He moved out of the mist as gentle hands forming with amazing grace.
Slowly he took his human form. Flowing blonde locks blew back to expose
a fine chiseled face of exquisite features. He was heavenly beautiful.
His eyelids opened listlessly to compassionate green eyes of the sea.
Pallid, as the purest light, his skin meshed into fine marble. And upon
his ruddy lips was a peaceful smile. He greeted an awe-struck Scalier
with a nod and went past her to examine Spring’s frozen face.
Next was Jude Maxus, thunder rattled the sky and sparks shot out giving
to a blaze then an inferno. From the firestorm, a black silhouette
fueled its way amongst the heat. Fully nourished, the flames gave rise
to a haven of bowed red hair and bright ambers. The mosaic pieced itself
together from cooling ash to become a kneeling sculptured being. A
smoky-gray and then a speckled-white soot cracked as the breeze gave way
to a sparkling, blued-eyed Hecon-gig smirking at an armed and ready Fire
Stone.
“Patience Ah-jinn-ah, we have eternity to fight.’ Jude said in his serpentine voice to the temperate and
shocked Fire
Stone
as he wiped off his shoulders and faced her with an icy presence.
Miasma, already completely formed from her invisibility to a specter of
vapor, stood next to Jude shimmering with a wide-eyed, lost and confused
look toward him then to the Fire Stone.
Ah-jinn-ah backed off at The Unformed presence. How innocent Miasma was
to witness such violence Ah-jinn-ah loved to induce others in.
Silently Miasma placed a faint hand upon Jude to whisper,
“Where are the others?”
Jude replied,” I don’t know why they choose to hide, maybe they wish
not to expose themselves at this time?” “Yet we all know what they look like and know they are amongst us.” Miasma recanted, “That is silly!” Miasma
focused
her attention upon him“ You seem changed since last we meet.” “Well, to you, yes. I am a Shifter after all Miasma.” Jude smiled and benevolently moved out of the reach of her hand knowing the mere touch of an Unformed sucks the essence from a formed being. He did not find
her
as innocent as Ah-jinn-ah did.
Blather was sneaking up behind Miasma with crackling electricity. It
flowed in waves through him to render a spotty outline. He was horrid in
the ghastly light. He planned on shocking Miasma from vapor to air
again. His mouth was open and his teeth grinded together, Blather’s
eyes grew bright azure and violet then a neon pink, his expression was
reflective of a slaughtering face of a madman and his hands were moving
slowly to grab Miasma’s specter head. Just as he went to grab her,
Miasma turned around and saw Blather. She ducked and ran in front of
Scalier. Blather began to shoot electricity at her when Abyss sent blue
ink through the air. That part of the realm turned into an unformed blue
hue of water. From the riff out came Abyss, genderless was a large face moving out of the water. Translucent yet bonding as water is, ringlets moved to make a large ripple chiming an echo as Abyss spoke to the two other Unformed. The unknown language was understood as scolding from the sharp sighs of Miasma and Blather. The Unformed disappeared from substance. Leaving only the Shifters presence awakening to form.
Scalier noticed another figure hidden amongst the unseen. It was a
figure she had not seen since before the wars in the Spiritual. Maybe
the others were too distracted by the Unformed playing tricks, or they
were simply tired of waiting for the masses to notice anything more then
their own unsettled feelings. She watched the figure. It moved about as
if they were having anxiety. This came off as the Manx being a frisky
and restless feline pawing about the spiritual Web above them.
“I know your there, but why are you hiding? I can’t see you, but why are you silent? It has been a long
time dear seraph.
Please speak to me? I long for the grace within your eyes”
The Manx was in tears and felt she babbled to herself. The seraph
departed, yet she felt them near and never gave quarrel. The
Masses Arrival
To the back of The Gathering, the Sea of Paths rumbles in the distance.
The masses make their way. Helping the Stones, the Creatures of water
surface to the fear of the other beings for they know little of them.
One by one the others fall under the water beings gift of spell to walk
toward them and enter the water.
At the front of The Gathering, a few Watchers have arrived, instantly
the elemental Guardians took away their wings. Unknowing of what the
loose angels did to deserve that punishment right out, they hide to
watch the Scalier and the Shifters roaming about. Mira, an earth made
and winged Creature bond to the earth because of her Watcher blood,
curiously greets and ask Jude what’s happening. The Shifter, not
really caring what trouble the truth would cause, told Mira she was not
dead and that the Guardian Stones and Blue Manx was really the Vigor.
They had stopped the realm and were working against them to gather
everyone onto the plains for a story the Blue Manx wants to tell. Mira,
not liking things hidden from her, didn’t like this much either and
without any hesitation she began to enthusiastically spread the news.
By the time it reached the Sea of Paths, the news was: Everyone’s not
dead. We are going to die by the Vigors’ will through a story the
Scalier is to tell us. Many wanted to fight and flee for the Vigor was
of the Spiritual, all feared the power of the Spiritual, but the Sea of
Paths was engulfing and stormily lead way with thunder and lightning. It
had many different entries, but one destination. The multitude was to
late to turn around and as ol’ Frizzy was learning there was no
escaping The Gathering even his map foretold him this.
Frizzy, far behind, and was about to break away when his route on his
map verged back to the Sea of Paths. His feet were not his own to
control anymore either. The sea was shallow and not a great ocean as
before. The smaller beings were being pushed up front and the larger
near the back. His map showed the beings floating in the water as if
they were a piece of roaming land! The map had never done that before.
He had wondered if the Guardians had such power and now he knew together
they to were of the Vigor. So he forged on willingly and eventually
joined in. The Sea of Paths moving like liquid land, all one had to do
was have a seat or stand still to ride the stream. Frizz was not to
upset for he had never been to Onslaughta’s Slide which was in view
from the sea. He never had a
reason to go there and he desired to see it so. Oni’s Slide was the
playground of little girl that was brought to Sacron by the Unformed;
they showed mercy upon her and hid her from the watchful eye of the
Creator. Onslaughta’s dwelling place didn’t even appear on
Frizzy’s map. Although most Faesyde’ beings believed the Creator
knew. The Unformed were responsible for her actions in Faesyde’. Oni
was a very special part to the realm. Many came here to just see a real
being (that being a myth in Faesyde’).
Oni was playing with her imagination as the masses arrived. As each
thing she imagined became to be before her, the show amazed the masses.
The power the Realies had in their realm was amazing and scary to them
at the same time. A few Creatures could see the lasting effect Oni’s
presence had made on that small area of Faesyde’ and how the Unformed
had repaired it.
Afraid of the masses presence, Oni put up a big wall about her
playground so no one could play in it. So many times she had visitors
that she didn’t want. So the wall was another fixture the Unformed had
to root into the matrix of Faesyde’. Feeling the tides shift on the
plains the Unformed left The Gathering to attend to Oni.
This was a big relief for the Stones and Scalier as well. Just what they
were was a mystery to even the Stones. The Unformed powers were unknown
and what they could do was just as well unknown. Yet they themselves
thought everyone one knew what and how they were at all times, all
anyone had seen was the repairs they had done to Oni’s Playground. She
had wanted dirt and real dirt there was, and she had wanted smelly
flowers only to get stinky ones instead of sweet ones. This had to be
re-thought of and re-wished for. The Unformed had the power to take away
form. That was a given, but to give things a different form was up in
the air if it was believable or just as the same. The Creatures didn’t
believe it was the same, and was very skeptical of what the Unformed did
even if it was in Watcher territory. As for the Watchers, they could
have cared less. Just as the Unformed left the Daemons stirred to
follow. They wanted the child and found it to tempting to not follow.
Any other time
Scalier would rush to make sure the child was okay, not knowing what the
other Gatekeepers were doing. Today she stayed and waited for the masses
feeling it was much bigger then her own objective and will. This feeling
she liked and remembered as if she was a cherub again. She shook it off
as a little voice reminded her it could never be that way while she
remained in Faesyde’. She raised her head and stood tall as if to tell
that voice today was different.
Floods of Creatures and Watchers arrived as all winged beings lost their
wings. Panicked and terrified Watchers felt it was a trick done by the
Creatures upon them. Fights broke out amongst the cries of hellish
temperament. The Air Stone collected the wings one by one, as the other
Stones nodded in agreement it was good that they fight now they were so
close to be resurrected then to fly away and have to gather them again.
Scalier shook her head and sighed to the Earth Stone, “Please do
something?” The masses bodies became affixed and entwined to the ground as vines grew wildly wrapping to hold them still.
“Is
that pleasing Scalier?”
Scalier nodded in agreement.
The Creatures replied with chants and blessing to the Earth Stone and
became silent in hope for mercy. The Air Stone begun to restrain the
Watchers with a null spell as shouts raised and crude words were spoken.
The Watchers were trying to fight it off yet failing miserably.
Summer yawned and closed his eyes into a much-needed rest as suddenly
Fall jumped up out of his peeking perch to dance about in frenzy. The
immediate change turned the fields brown as a chill fell on the air. The
harvest season caught the masses attention. Quiet they all became in
Fall’s magnitude.
Scalier feeling her only chance shakily emerged from the circle and grew to amazing heights. “Greetings to you all!” Scalier’s booming voice began, “Creatures…Watchers… As you see not one being in Faesyde’ has not been called here. Today is a day of peace. If you all will relax and listen no harm will befall you. In time, the Earth Stone
will
let
lose
of you and your wings will be returned. We do this only to get your
attention.”
Scalier moved about a bit and prepared to continue, but the masses threw
anything they could get a hold of at her. Elemental matter flew from the
stronger beings. Ah-shy-di
dropped the missiles from their heights like they were made of lead
falling inches from the Manx’s stance. This made a grand stage for
Scalier to stand upon. It began to glow with many colored lights of the
elements.
Undeterred Scalier spoke, “As you know by now you are not dead, but very much alive. The war is over. I repeat the war is over! You have all been in stasis and ceased to be but a memory of that time. Lost has been two thousand years. Here we lie in a realm where that is allowed. Here, in no other realm, we are given so much. Yet we fight over what we don’t have not knowing any better or worse..."
The Air Stone tried to extend the power of her null spell, but failed to
maintain it. The faces of the beings turned grotesques with violence, as
the spell was broke by voices of the crowd growing to an uncontrolled
level, Scalier could no longer continue. The masses started to die again
by this emotion and spiritual hatred. Many were weakly lying in the
clutches of the vines and earth. The Watchers, merrily quieted down at
the Creatures’ agony, began cheering the Manx. The Stones looked at
Scalier and sighed lowly.
She simply continued in a quiet hurt voice “I have undergone amazing depths…”She paused faint of heart to slowly try again. “… to find this journal and prepare this Gathering for you and all who attend. ”Her voice rose louder, “I am sure there are among you ones who remember Sara the Sleepwalker, a human adored by our Dream
Master of Sacron, The Nameless. “ With the mentioning of The Nameless the crowd responded with mocking whispers “The? Hush! Hush! The Dream
Master? Thou should not beckon him with the sound of his name. Oh no,
you should not.”
All grew quiet for near to the Blue Manx came a gloom of the bleakest
nature. The Manx looked about and saw the shade. Out of the darkness
came many eyes and a parting of a dreamer’s sky so sapphire and
bottomless in hue then a spinning of a scarlet cloak intensified toward
the crowd. A pale being much like a man, adored in scarlet armor, lofty
and strangely slender stood without emotion. The sovereign and hall of
The Nameless descended like a blur and a feather aside Scalier in the
Eden. This great and noble ruler emerged toward her slowly as his
legions made ease.
“You speak of someone dear to me?” The Nameless stopped short of Scalier near the splendor of his court and house.“Continue.” His deep-set murky eyes then lowered his stare to sit upon the crystal and avant-garde throne.
His
jet-black hair flew briskly about in an unknown wind.
The Nameless was a god to the Creatures (yet he had never claimed such)
with no sentiment like the Stones. So they listened and made no fuss. He
was the Dream Master and they knew with a brush of his hand or a blink
of his eye any of them in this dreamland would be no more or maybe if he
liked would have never have been (yet he had not ever done so). This
included the Watchers, but they claimed to know his real name and dared
not to cross him by speaking it. This only made the Creatures more leery
of him. Scalier opened the book, as the pages fell a soft and warm glow reflected out into the masses. Wide eyed and in wonder the masses observed awaiting their end or a beginning of a new story? What was amongst the pages of the book? They witnessed Oni’s destruction of Faesyde’ on their way there. Many trusted Scalier to enlighten them with her vision. She had never before told them how to believe or hurt them. The Younger listened, yet the Elder was wise to remember she was not as good as she made out to be or else why was she in Faesyde’?
Upon the breeze came a whisper to the faint of heart, “To tell the tale.” Who and why they said it was
a
mystery.
Uneasy of her audience, Scalier went on, “The first story is of Sara’s arrival and how she thought she was brought to our land. Within it reads of what we know as the Bleeding Stone of Solitude. This area is a ruthless and undesirable land where the Fire Fae lives. We refuse to go there, and yet it is the first of our land Sara saw. What is most unique is her point-of-view upon us? On these pages contain the difference between humans and us. It is time we old ones remembered what the humans were promised and how lucky we are to have what some of them will never even seek to have. She is such an outsider even in her own world that the accounts of ours are humorous, misleading and has renewed strength in me as I hope for you. There are things about our realm
she
sees through
her
eyes that we could never see, because we are not of her kind. Simply, we
are not Sara.” Scalier paused, “When she first arrived on the Bleeding Stone she was very upset and confused. Sara was sick with an illness humans have and it was consuming her. In Faesyde’ this illness was able to subside so Sara could think clearer, but at first she raved and her raving turned to understanding.”
Scalier fumbles a little with the pages. The masses settle, the wind stood still, the Stones rested their worries with a scent of frankincense and the Scalier, at first afraid, reads to herself the comments Sara wrote to anyone that found the journal without Sara. Dear
Reader, Please don’t destroy the pages within this book for they are more then paper. This is my memory, my experiences, my journey into wonderment and my final voice. Here lies a testimony to life and to death. Many beautiful spirits lie within, and I give only a glimpse of them for it is all I have. Vision is the face of God. Thought is God’s hidden reflection. I am but of a small will. I weep for much joy I find in these pages outside my life of turmoil and crosses I bear. Such a gift of imagination God has given man to construct good ground for his kingdom in the sky. Praise God in his glory! Chose well as I hope you and I shall always do. Sara
Walker The Sleepwalker |
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