Chapter 3: Shadows of Prophecy
"Promise me, Celeste." The veiled man, clothed in shadows, pulled her closer into his broad arms as he watched Nether's silhouette finally fade into the dark.
"Should I not return, you would keep him safe."
She raised her head, then her palms reached to frame the face behind the veil. "Kal-Ed is brave, Asterion. You saw it. I won't be needed to keep him safe."
Then she followed his eyes. "Nether would be the Messiah as foretold centuries ago. Like a bright star, he would bring the rays of hope to these corrupted lands."
Asterion lifted his veil, revealing a pair of eyes darker than black. "Was that why you christened him 'Asterious'?"
She let out a smile as she rested further in his embrace. The light emanating from her body rivaled his shadowed figure, giving the illusion of an eclipse.
"He's a star. Right from his birth, I had borne witness to it." Then she caressed his breastplate. "Which is why I request this last wish from you, my lord."
The increased tempest of the rain drowned the words that came from her lips next, but for Nether, it was a more viable option for what he wished to do.
All around him was the white fog, slightly dyed scarlet by the red moons amidst the thousand stars.
From afar, he could make out the silhouette of his quarters—mostly the dark dome of the roof and the preceding stone-slabbed ground.
But he steered the horse left, drifting from the paths toward a much more elevated one lined with more stone tombs.
As the horse walked on solitarily, he couldn't help but recline into thoughts as he stared at the huge stones, which sometimes shielded the twin moons from his view.
They said the twin moons were the eyes of Kal-Ed, signifying judgment and justice, and the countless stars signified its omnipresence in this very world. Of course, that was only a lore for the Bastion of Artagnan, the great city below the Dark Isle.
The lore went on to say that in the Night of the White Celestial, where Satur and Yashur were purged of the crimson stain of their sins, the Messiah would be born—with eyes mirroring the color of the moons.
His silver eyes stared abve at the bloated clouds.
Kal-Ed, born on the Day of the Elud, the winter solstice.
He held tightly to the saddle as the beast of burden strenuously ascended this slanted peak, supposedly terminating in an overhang overlooking the entire great city of Artagnan—Adamas.
He could faintly feel the rain through the warm confines of the woolen cloak, and from his body, the blazing halo reduced the drops to steamy vapor, warming his exposed skin.
How thoughtful of you, Mother.
More lightning forked the dark skies, illuminating the world before him with drums of thunder. A few frightened the horse, but reassuringly, he steered it back onto the path.
Then he felt a warm metallic tinge on his lips. He swiped his palm at it, only to discover, in the light of the halo, the scarlet stain of blood, followed by a slight throb in his skull. Shutting his eyes, he winced.
Was this the side effect of using the Voice?
The world around him felt like it was spinning, and tightly, in order to hold on, he tucked his hands below the saddle while his eyes were closed.
Breathe, Nether. Breathe. He exhaled his breath in fogs, and slowly the world dissolved into a high-pitched single note.
Winter.He felt a chill assault him. All around him was winter and snow. His lips trembled while his breath hitched. A great winged beast. When he glanced to his side... there it was, feeding on the carcass of men bearing the... the Artagnan emblazon. Hanaan!
Kal-Xhalor, open your eyes.
He forced his eyes open with quick pants of breath as another rolling thunder ensued. The horse had already halted at the apex of this overhang.
A vision...A dragon...Death..that was what it was. Hanaan, Rephrim, Mortagem. He had seen their corpses.
He climbed down from the horse; his silver boot slammed into the mud as he landed. Then he patted the dark stallion at its nape.
"Good job, Mazel. Now..." He retreated from the horse as he walked farther toward the peak of the overhang. The horse gave a loud neigh while again raising its forelimbs from the damp soil.
"STAY PUT." His words rippled through the humid air, and solely in compliance, the beast of burden cowered on its knees—a satisfying spectacle as he wiped the blood from his nostrils.
From atop this stormy peak, he stood, christened by a blessed halo and a woolen cloak mimicking the dance of the mighty winds.
Coveted in fog from his vantage point was the entire city of Adamas—a land of spires and cathedrals. From the stained paved streets glittering with gas lamps to the gentle clatter of chariots.
The dark marks of alleys and the facades of high-rise buildings. Also, he could notice the dominant silhouettes of knights clad in dark armor manning the huge gate to the west, and more others camping in black tents on the opposite side of the peaks circling this great city.
More were in patrol around this vast city, while some laborers still heaped bulky grains on the huge pyramids far west, closer to the stone-carved laborers' district and isle workers.
The Imperial Institute closer to the south peak and the gigantic statue of Asterion the Great on its frontal edifice. He exhaled as he stared upward.
The skies were littered with floating enormous vessels and Myrrdium-powered balloons scanning below with pillars of white light.
Lightning forked the skies again, illuminating his silhouette with arms spread.
"I shall pave My Way." He stared deep into the laborers' district.
Then, with his hands spread and eyes closed, he fell backward into the damp soil—or so it was, but before he could make contact with the ground, the black image of his own shadow embraced him, making him sink through it.
You must trust the darkness. You are your father's kin. You must be one with the shadows, Kal-Ed.
The first thing that greeted him when he opened his eyes was a stone wall—a stone wall lined with gas lamps. A stone wall that ended with the silhouette of a man sleeping at the end.
A mattress woven from Lorian silk cloth and fibrous dexter.
And he... he stared at his own form. He was standing. With a deep sigh, he settled himself, then walked around the small confined space. The wall had the patterns of the Mat-Edlah,
The Calm Sea That Bears No Tides, the Virtue of Patience.
A simple metal table and furniture he couldn't care less about. Then he approached the man nested in sleep.
"WAKE UP."