I floated in the quiet darkness.
There was no pain. No happiness. No fear. No excitement. There was no sense of anything. I was just there. Who or what I was no longer mattered.
I was just an it.
A thing like every other living creature. A collection of differently shaped pieces meant to turn to ash…
Ash that would return to the earth, enriching the soil and providing for the life the lands gave birth to.
But the darkness wasn’t entirely silent. There was a distant hum. A whisper. A name being called. Begging. The far-away plea tugged at me.
Seraphena, child.
I stopped floating at the louder echo. That of a…soul. One I knew,
because I had been something before I was nothing—someone who made up the collection of uneven pieces. I’d had a name.
Open your eyes, girl. The voice came again—an old, worn voice that belonged to…to…
Odetta.
She was a part of the cycle now, just as I was, right?
No, child, you’re not.
I cracked open my eyes. A pinprick of light appeared in the darkness, becoming a shade of swirling sapphire. Light sparked at its tail, and emerald shot out, wrapping itself around the blue. Rich brown followed, and then the three lights spun around a dark center.
In that center, there was a…a past. The past. A beginning of everything.
And it started with a blast—an explosion that left small, throbbing lights behind as the raw energy rippled out, creating barren lands and mountains where there was nothing but emptiness before.
Those small, throbbing lights were stars—bright, brilliant stars. And after a time, they fell to lands no longer barren. Some fell where great winged
creatures ruled while others fell to lands separated by sweeping bodies of water to the west and to the east. And those stars buried themselves deep in the ground—ground that eventually healed from their impacts. Soil that
sprouted saplings, which grew into strong trees that fed what was buried deep beneath. Stars that were fed and nurtured and grown from the roots of the
trees they’d given life to. Stars that stayed beneath the surface until they too
were as strong as the trees, till they rose from the soil to walk as… Ancients.
I saw them, their ever-changing eyes full of their beginnings as warmth sparked inside me. That warmth filled all my different-shaped pieces as I saw a fire in the flesh, one that created the Primals. Crackling heat flooded my
limbs as I heard the names they were called, both here and beyond, in unfamiliar lands full of towering cities and steel beasts.
Then I saw the Primal of Life, whose features were so painfully familiar. He reached into soil soaked with the blood of the draken he’d spent centuries
cultivating, tending to with his breath and will, and the water and fire of the realms. He lifted a small babe, red-faced and howling. The babe’s eyes opened for the very first time, crimson that turned to a brilliant, stunning
shade of the sky. Those eyes became a kaleidoscope of all the colors in the realms before changing to soft brown as the babe quieted upon seeing the Primal.
I saw the first mortal born, not in the image of the Primals and gods, but in the way of the Ancients, who were born of stars.
And I saw those Ancients rejoice in the continuation of life that had been shaped in their image. Then I saw that begin to change as those created in their image destroyed what came before the Primals, their very first creation
—the realms themselves. And as the pulsing warmth expanded in my chest and shimmering silvery light appeared behind my eyes, I understood.
I understood.
The eather, the essence, had come from the stars that had fallen eons ago. I understood.
Because I saw the Primals rise and the Ancients fall as my heart took its
second first beat. I saw them faded into places of peace and rest. I saw many go to ground, and I saw that some remained to ensure what I now knew had to be more important than anything else.
There must always be balance, that life must always continue on. That death must always come.
I understood.
As the eather flowed into my fingers and down my legs, I saw the horror of what would happen if the cycle of life was broken. I heard the screams of
thousands, of millions if death was vanquished, and I knew.
I knew that the Ancients who’d returned to the ground must never, ever return to the surface.
Because they were no longer the beginning of everything, the great creators, the givers of life and the balance that kept the realms stable.
They were the end that would shake the realms, erupting the tallest mountains, spewing forth flames and clouds that would consume all in its path, turning day to night. They would boil the rivers and turn seas to deserts, laying utter waste to sprawling stone kingdoms and toppling those great steel cities in distant lands.
For if they rose, they did so as blood and bone, the ruin and the wrath of that once great beginning.
As the essence of the stars hummed from within me, I saw the end. And I knew.
I knew I was not a part of the cycle of life.
I was the cycle. The beginning. Middle.
The last breath before the end. Death’s steadfast companion. I was Life.
 |
Slowly, I became aware of a pressure in my head. It built and spread, clamping down on my lungs.
My heart seized and then sped up. A sudden burst of pain lanced my upper jaw. Teeth loosened. A metallic taste filled my mouth as a tremor started deep in the center of my chest, where the two embers flickered and pulsed, expanding with each fast-pounding beat of my heart. The embers grew, swelling inside me until the chasm that had been cracked open
splintered.
Pure, unadulterated power poured out, spreading like roots in my veins. The essence filled my organs. Eather entrenched itself in my bones and bled into my tendons, flowing to my muscles. My body warmed.
Something tightened around me. Not something. Arms? Yes, arms.
Someone was holding me in…in water. A lake. “Sera?” came a ragged whisper. His whisper. The Asher.
I knew that voice. I’d heard it in the darkness, hadn’t I? The One who is Blessed.
The Guardian of Souls.
The Primal God of Common Men and Endings. The End to my Beginning.
My eyes flew open, fixing on the night sky—the stars and the moon. “Sera,” he gasped.
That name. That name. That name.
It was important, but something…something was still happening inside me. Raw, Primal energy pressed against my flesh, seeping through my pores. My skin hummed—
Time stopped. There were no sounds of water or wind. No rustling
animals or distant calls. There was just him leaning over me, his silver eyes wide as he held me in his arms, keeping me afloat.
“Liessa,” he rasped.
Eather erupted from my chest, shooting into the air in a spinning, sparking funnel. The stream of eather slammed into the sky. Time felt as if it stopped once more.
Arms tensed around me. “Oh, shit.”
The surge of power throbbed, and I saw the shockwave before I heard it, rippling in waves through the air, extending in every direction. With a massive, deafening boom that shook the land in all the realms, the intense silvery-gold light rippled across the skies, stretching as far as the eye could see and beyond. That shockwave reached us—
He was torn from me, thrown back into the trees as I was lifted into the air. The water of my lake flew out and up, halting as shadowstone cracked beneath us and gave way. Tall elms groaned as they quaked, bending back and then pitching forward, their roots ripping free of the ground. They began to slide and topple, sinking into the rushing water as the eather returned to its vessel.
To me.
Essence wrapped and churned around me, crackling and spitting sparks, encasing me in its light until it was all I saw.
All I became.
