Eclipse: the Beginning

“… that evening we arrived here. I fell asleep after that.”

“That makes twenty-five days since you arrived,” Boaz said, making a scratch next to the previous twenty-four. He was using a twig’s bark on the tabletop as they backtracked Samuel’s time in Aurora. “That is nearly a month.”

“Just how many days are there in a month?” Samuel asked. It could only benefit him to learn about Aurora’s mechanics, and Boaz had no issue educating him. He might as well take advantage of the opportunity while he had it.

“Twenty-eight,” the Wingie replied. “I could teach you the calendar after I give my divination. It will take much longer than what the wind will have to say. Ha ha!”

“It’s that complicated? Why do I feel as if I’ve returned to grammar school?” The teenager rubbed his temples as tension began to grow in his skull.

“Now then,” Boaz said, returning to his tally marks, “twenty-five days back. That would have been the month of Beginning …” he paused to count on his fingers for a moment. “… water week on ….” Another pause came as the mystic stared at the ceiling. “… Nao-Nori’s day. Oh, this should prove to be interesting indeed.”

Before Samuel could ask what all of that meant, the chimes rang from the window behind him. He felt something enter the room, like smooth clothing brushed past his skin. What was this? It lacked the fearful presence of the shadow in his dream. This feeling was far less obvious. The young man was unable to tell if it was malevolent or benevolent, kind or coarse, summoned or summoning. Whatever it was though, he was not afraid of it. It felt almost natural.

“Are you ready for me to divine your arrival, Samuel?”

“Yes,” the Nomad replied in an airy, distracted voice, “I think I am.”

“Very well.”

Boaz closed his eyes, cleansing his mind to act as a vessel of wind. The wind chimes echoed soft and slow. The air felt light and heavy at the same time. Samuel felt woozy, but instead of dizziness, he thought he was falling into a daze or a dream. He closed his eyes, listening to the air move throughout the room.

“Nao-Nori’s day … water week … in the month of Beginning,” Boaz’ voice sounded different. It was as if two voices were speaking at the same time. Samuel tried to focus on the young man, for it seemed the breeze might carry him away if he lost his concentration. Boaz opened his eyes at last, revealing completely dilated irises. The divination had begun.

“Nao-Nori, guardian god of the rushing waters, is the symbol of the masculine within the feminine and the feminine within the masculine. His rivers flow throughout Aurora, bringing health and healing to all people. He is a leader of wisdom before action, carefully choosing his ruling before giving any command.

“The week of water heralds the element of serenity, calm, and peace. It is an element of cleansing and healing, as it healed Aurora’s surface from its burns in the beginning. Its two sides work as one, moving and calm, as a balance to one another and Aurora ….

“The month of Beginning is the first month of the year to remember the birth of our world. It foretells of new things to come and new beginnings. It also bodes of things to end that will bring change by Destiny’s design ….

“With these three combined, I see that you are at the center of a new beginning. You will bring about a divine change that will bring healing to this land. Your goal is that of peace and balance, yet you will have to overcome many who stand in your way to bring this to fruition. Look to the wisdom of Nao-Nori, for his waters will bring you strength and resolve ….

“The wind has this message for you as well,” Boaz furrowed his brow. This was an unusual occurrence. Normally, a divination covered the date’s revelations alone. Predictions and messages typically came from meditation. Something else was going on here, but his curiosity prevented him for worrying about the anomaly. “The wheel of Destiny never veers from its course. Let your spirit be carried on its path.” He dropped out of his daze abruptly, producing a gasp of surprise from the Wingie.

Before he could ask his new friend about his thoughts, a shiver of anticipation ran up his spine. The wind had not left them yet. How was that possible? The divination was over, was it not? It had left him for sure. Glancing across the table, Samuel was sitting with his head hung. The air was getting thicker with some kind of aura. Boaz felt something was amiss, reaching across to touch the Nomad’s shoulders.

“Samuel?”

“It is not enough,” Samuel’s voice sounded different. It was deeper, and it sent a tingling sensation through Boaz’s body.

“What is not enough?” The mystic fell quiet. Awe had grasped his mind and spirit. Eyes wide with excitement, he awaited his answer.

Samuel slowly lifted his head. The pale blonde locks fell back gradually. A weightless sensation filled the room. The aura remained as it was, growing thicker still. His eyes were closed as his face came into view. Boaz withdrew his hand as Samuel sat upright. As soon as his posture was straightened, his eyelids opened like shutters on a window in a windstorm. His eyes glowed a shimmering, silver light, stunning the mystic.

“It is not enough … I need more … the voice is too faint … I need more ….”

“More of what? I do not understand,” Boaz pleaded. It was clear to him that something was trying to speak through Samuel, but he was unsure what. That was when he heard the wind, whistling around the Nomad. “Do you mean … you need more wind?”

“I need Seraph … I need Seraph … Seraph ….”

“The Wind god you came with. Of course! I will find him! Please forgive me for leaving, but I promise to return with the Wind god!”

“Seraph … I need Seraph ….”

Bazak was mindlessly walking the mountain halls. It was mid-morning, and with his watch shift not till after lunch, his spirit was restless. His thoughts were still on the Wind goddess who had bested him. He was wondering if he had been overcome due to weakness on his part. After all, she was a true goddess, not just an immortal with training. Groaning, he could hear the older soldiers and warriors laughing at him for thinking he stood a chance. What was he supposed to do now?

“Boaz?” He paused where he was; his chest felt heavy. His brother must be giving that boy a divination. Curses, what was so great about that whelp that Boaz had to pour all of his time into him? Leaning against the wall, the Wingie sat down at catch his breath.

It was always a strain on him when Boaz called upon the wind for a divination. As a Seer, Boaz was a strong mystic. Seers were renowned for finding lost pieces of people’s pasts. They did not even need a person’s birthday. All they needed was the furthest date they could recall for direction to guide the questioner, but their true power was in their ability to divine questions of the spirit.

Boaz and Bazak were of the few mystics in their generation born able to use magic. It was a rare gift since Lord Zion vanished. When their mother took ill, Boaz showed signs of growing in his mystic powers. Bazak regressed. It had only been a matter of time before he lost his ability to divine at all. All he had left was his Wind magic.

“It should be over soon.”

After the usual time, Bazak felt better, but the recovery was quicker than normal. Standing slowly, he started to worry that Boaz had overdone it this time. That was when he realized that he had no idea where he could find the other Wingie. He slapped his forehead for not following his brother the previous day.

“Where are you, Boaz? If anything happens to you, I could never forgive myself!” He took off down the hall in the direction he had been going. He hoped he would come across his brother at some point.

“Where are you going in such haste?”

“Ah!” Bazak barely stopped fast enough to avoid colliding with the person in front of him. Celestial stepped into his path. Her opaque gaze stared at him. After swallowing the fright she gave him, he allowed himself to breathe. “I was … I was trying to … to find my … brother.”

“Is a race involved?” Celestial was not letting him slide with short replies. Samuel was supposed to be in that mystic’s care. If something was wrong with this Boaz, Samuel could be in trouble. “Well, are you out of answers as you are breath? I thought Winds prided themselves in never getting winded.”

“We never do!” Bazak snapped back at her comment, only to cower under her blazing eyes. He must have touched a nerve, yelling at her. “I … I just felt something was wrong. It was panic, not fatigue.” He glanced back at her as if that explanation made things sound any better.

Celestial stared at the Wingie for a moment. He felt something was wrong? Could that have been fraternal instinct or divine foreboding? She studied his face intently, trying to recall what the other one looked like. Why did she have to wake moments before he walked away with her charge? Suddenly, an idea struck her.

“Let’s go.”

“What? Why do you have to come?”

“Your brother has my charge,” she grabbed the younger by the ear. “Let’s go. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am ….”

“Ah, good morning. I thought I might find you here,” Alma said as she left the stairs to the tower. “I did not see you in the Great Hall at breakfast. Have you eaten?”

Seraph glanced behind him at the mystic. She was holding a basket. It most likely held food. Her question must have just been for manners’ sake. The god had not eaten, mostly due to his thoughts drowning out his appetite. The Wind also did not want to face anyone new. He did not want to play Saraii, not when he had been Seraph so freely. Shaking his head for a denial, he turned back to look outside at the landscape.

“I hope you find the fruit to your liking,” she said, walking up just behind the young god. His face was deep in thought, losing the feminine facade. The visage was handsome, a man in his prime. She looked down at the fruit she had picked from the trees outside her room, hiding her flushed cheeks. “They were picked this morning.”

“You needn’t worry over me, Lady Alma,” Seraph said softly. “Your people look to you here. Tending to me is hardly a leader of the Wingies’ responsibility.”

“Oh, it is not that! I … I merely thought you might enjoy Lord Zion’s favorite fruit. He planted several trees on Mt. Aion, so he could eat them anytime he wished. Please, have one.”

Seraph glanced at the basket. Were those coral beads? Raphael told him their coral bead tree had been a gift from Lord Zion. He felt his stomach beg for at least one, making him blush. Alma smiled back at his embarrassed expression, holding the basket up closer to him. He reached in for one, nodding in gratitude.

“Thank you. I haven’t had coral beads in years. Raphael said they were native to Northern Water. I never realized they were so scarce here in Wind until I left home.”

“You have been traveling for a long time, then?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying to find my father. He was loyal to Lord Zion and branded a traitor. I set out three years ago, but all I discovered was that he was a god, thanks to my birthday awakening.” He bit into the fruit with a pout. The thin, fuzzy skin was edible, so he ate everything except the seed at the center.

“I see,” Alma looked down at the landscape from where she stood behind Seraph. She had always been nervous about the Mouth of Aion. It started with a dream that she had as a child where the wind swept her out of the cave entrance. Every time she had it, she forced herself to wake up, afraid she would fall to her death. It seemed foolish now as she reflected on it. The god of Wind would never abandon her that way. If she had not given into her fear, she might have been carried to a wonderful place.

“Raphael sent you to us to help you in your quest.”

“Yes,” Seraph looked down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes to tap the dirt floor, “he told me that I would be able to conjure the wind that you would need to find my answers. I forgot to bring it up yesterday. Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she replied. He was looking more anxious by the moment. Whatever was the matter? “Before the Hive was raided, Wingies would call winds to funnel through the halls, filling the whole temple. Every Wingie would work together to discover answers they sought of Destiny. My mother would tell me of how Lord Zion would stand at the center of the ground floor and push gusts from his palms. I wish I recalled such wondrous memories for myself.”

“I’m not him.”

“What?”

“I’m not Lord Zion,” Seraph said. His voice sounded guilty. He felt like a failure. These people had waited in the castle of the god they believed would free them of their oppression and fear. It must be known throughout the mountain he was a god by now. As much as he wanted to help them, he was reminded of Samuel and the quest weighing on his young shoulders. “I only just discovered my heritage, and I am far from a master of my element. I … I don’t think I am the god you have been waiting for.”

“My lord,” Alma knelt to the floor behind the Wind god. Bowing her head to the ground, she let her black, waist-length hair fall about her.

“W-Wait! Don’t do that! I’m not royalty! Please!” Seraph spun around to kneel on his right knee, coaxing her to rise. He was far too nervous to touch her though, so his hands hovered over the mystic’s shoulders as if a barrier barred their passage. “Please get up. Please!”

“Young Wind god, what is your true name? Will you not tell me?”

“What do you mean?” Seraph felt a lump in his throat grow at the question.

“Saraii is not your true name,” she replied. Alma did not rise from the dirt. She felt shameful for what she about to say, but she felt it necessary. “Forgive my forwardness, but I believe this female person is a lie. You are a god, a man of regal presence, and a nobleman. I saw this in you the moment I first beheld your image, here in this tower. Please, my lord, may I know your true name?”

“Lord Seraph!” a labored cry came the stairwell. Seraph jerked his head up at the sound of his name. At first, he thought Samuel was calling for him. His protective nature sprang up from beneath his anxiety, showing in his face as he looked to the back of the tower. When the familiar young mystic ran out of the stairwell, the Wind gaped in shock. How did he know his name?

“Lord Seraph?” Boaz gasped when he finally stopped running. He had been calling for the god all over the mountain. It was only when he remembered hearing how much their guardian loved his cave that he turned around. “At last … I have found … you! Samuel! He … he needs you!”

“What’s happened to Samuel?” Seraph rose from his knee at the news. If Samuel came to harm while they were apart, he would never let the Nomad out of his sight again.

“He needs … your wind!”

“Boaz … what have you done?” Alma gaped down at the ground, as she was still bowing. Her eyes trembled at the thought of angering their new god, especially when they needed his help.

“I … divined him!” Boaz looked at them unafraid. He knew something wondrous was beginning. He was so excited that Seraph’s stern expression failed to affect him. “It was … amazing! His eyes … they shimmer … like silver in the … sunlight!”

“Take me to him, now.” Seraph could feel a breeze was starting to swirl about him. Walking up to the flustered mystic, he placed his hands on each shoulder, helping the younger Wind to stand. “Please take me to him.”

“I shall, my lord!” Boaz could feel his spirit bursting with joy as his breath returned to him. No doubt it was Seraph’s wind. The mystic could barely contain himself to just a grin.

“Wait,” Alma stood at last, “please let me accompany you both. As Head Wingie, I am responsible for all workings. I must ensure that nothing has gone awry.”

“Then come,” Seraph replied, looking back at her stunned face, “my friend needs me.”

Within the halls of Mt. Aion, Wingies parted the way as Boaz led Alma and Seraph back to the room where he had left Samuel. Gasps and stares descended upon the young god. The attention soaked into the back of his mind. Instead of the usual looks of suspicion and judgment he had grown so used to, the Wingies’ eyes were filled with awe and wonder. If he had not been so focused on getting to Samuel’s side, he might have stopped them from bowing.

In the twenty years since the Hive was attacked and Lord Zion lost, Wind had waited the return of this divine presence. The avatar of their element held so much more meaning than just survival. It was a piece of each of them. People were called by their country because that was a part of their identity. For over two decades, the western province had been lost. Not just leadership, but the country of Wind was adrift in an endless abyss. Bog had stripped them further, crushing their way of life and culture and enslaving them to his whims.

As Seraph passed by at a brisk walk, the god left a breeze behind him that each Wingie inhaled as if it were a rare fragrance. It filled their lungs, bodies, and spirits with not just hope. They felt alive for the first time in years. Even if Seraph was not clear how he could free the West, he had already begun to liberate his country from their isolation.

“He is inside,” Boaz said with an excited yip. He had never felt so antsy. It was as if there were an energy inside his body that fueled him endlessly. It was an exhilarating experience, but he was so caught up in the effects that he failed to care what caused it in the first place.

“You have to see his eyes, Lady Alma! They are like nothing I have ever seen!”

“Boaz, try to calm yourself,” Alma took the young Wind by the shoulders. She also felt her spirits lift, but Boaz looked at if he had eaten something he should not have. “You will over excite yourself at this rate.”

“Look! Look!”

The Wingie opened the door quickly. Instantly, the wind swirling about Seraph was sucked inside, making the god’s eyes widen. That had never happened before. On fluid steps, Samuel walked to the doorway, staring back at Seraph with a blank expression. His shimmering eyes glistened in the torchlight of the hallway. Gradually, the gusts began to pick up again, swirling in the hall as well as the room. Alma glanced between the two. They seemed transfixed in each other’s gaze, but who held who?

“You see, Lady Alma?” Boaz gaped at Samuel’s face. “I told you they were magnificent!”

“My lord,” Alma called out to Seraph, “your current has become too great for the hall! You must channel it outward, or those around you could be swept away!”

“Where?”

“My lord, Seraph?” Alma felt her voice catch in her throat, hearing Seraph’s voice on the winds. He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. The gusts carried the very words he whispered from his tongue to her ear. It sent a tingling sensation through her body and into her spirit. She now looked almost as caught up as Boaz was.

“Where can I do this? Samuel needs more of my strength still.”

“Come,” she cried excitedly over the howling. “The Great Hall at the center of Mt. Aion will be more than enough room!”

“Come, Samuel.” Seraph raised his palms up, using the breeze to lift the Nomad off the ground. “I will give all I have soon enough.”

“Seraph … do not lose yourself,” Samuel muttered as the god carried him after Alma and Boaz. Seraph nodded in silence.

The two Seers were busy moving people out of Seraph’s way. Winds continued to swirl stronger with each step the young god took. He was almost completely lost in the element if not for his concern for Samuel to anchor him within his mind. With every whisper from the youth’s lips, the anchor grew heavier. He still felt strange. It was as if he was liberated of any worries besides the Nomad’s condition. He felt a strength he had not known within himself before. As the feeling grew stronger, his mental clarity sharpened as well. When he felt the drifting sensation fade, he looked up to see that he was inside the belly of Mt. Aion.

“The Great Hall will channel your power through the whole mountain, Lord Seraph!” Alma called out when she got Boaz and herself to a safe distance. “Please do not hinder yourself! Release your full strength!”

“Seraph … now,” Samuel whispered, making the young god cry out. Finally, he could let loose.

“What in the name of the goddess?!” Celestial yelled as a burst of wind slammed into Bazak and herself. It was all she could do to grab the young Wind’s forearm before they were both knocked off of their feet. This had to be Seraph’s doing, but she never felt this much power from him, even when he had rescued her from King Zemnas’ courtyard. What had happened to unleash such raw strength?

“Where did this come from, soldier?” the Light yelled over the roar of the wind. It was almost as if it were crying out, but for what?

“I … I think it came from within!”

“Of course it did! Where? My comrade might be in over his head! I need you to lead me there!”

“No!” Bazak pointed at the interior wall they were clinging to. “Within! The Great Hall has openings on every floor! If the Wind goddess were to unleash inside, it would flow out of the whole mountain evenly!”

“Take me there, now!” She could correct the misunderstanding later. The Light was more concerned with Seraph’s mental state.

Bazak reached for the next knot of earth on the wall to pull himself along. How the Light was able to move so easily on her bare feet was beyond him. Was she used to this or something? Moving flush against the wall, Bazak made his way to the nearest entrance to the hall. Looking about, he saw that they were not the only ones making their way there. Wingies were coming out of all the rooms, braving the strong gusts. As shocked as he was by the occurrence, the Wind could not help feeling excited.

He remembered stories about life in the Hive before Lord Zion vanished. Was this what it felt like when the god whipped through the halls of their temple? He hoped he would be able to catch a glimpse of whatever their new deity looked like in action. Did they become the wind itself or would they manifest in some other way? Bazak wished he were with Boaz right now. This was history happening before their eyes. No, they were actually a part of it. Knowing this made his smile look reminiscent of an innocent child.

“Here!” Bazak called back the soldier. “There are rows of seating carved from the mountain itself inside! Through this entrance, you will find your companion, though the wind is strongest coming through there! I can feel it!”

“Get behind me then!”

“What? Why?”

“I’ve faced that timid taboo god in worse straits! I sense you wish to see what is on the other side of this wall! You can hold on to me so you won’t blow away!” A smug smile spread on her face. She could see a delighted soldier a mile away.

“Yes!” Bazak turned his head to grin at her. “How could I miss this?”

Celestial took a step outward, inching her way around the Wingie. A blush flushed over his cheeks when she moved against his back. He could feel her breasts beneath her gown, pressed up on his back as she moved steadily against the wind. She showed no sign of being affected, though. The youth gaped at her placid face, having never met someone who was so numb to touch. He knew she was a true warrior, but even the hardest of soldiers he knew would have showed some reaction to such intimate contact. Was she that cold within that it did not matter to her?

“Are you coming?”

“Ah! Yes,” the Wind cried when he saw she was going inside the hall. The gusts were far stronger inside. Everyone that had entered was pressed against the wall, barely able to inch from there. The god was no longer yelling, but one could almost feel a restless spirit on the gusts. Bazak looked over at the soldier, standing ahead of him. “It gets worse than this?!”

Celestial did not reply. Her face was blank. Bazak reached for her arm, trying to see if she was all right. Had she struck her head on the wall? Her lips were parted as the white eyes glowed brighter. Based on the intensity of the light alone, it was as if something was trying to escape from within her body. Just when the Wingie thought she had fallen into shock, he heard something mingling with the sound of the winds. Was that singing?

Seraph looked up. He heard Celestial’s voice, floating on the gusts to him. It was not the sad song from before, and he could tell she had released some pent up energy like himself. He reached a hand upward toward the ceiling. He wanted to carry her down to them. She should be at their side right now.

In response, she appeared above, riding on the wind’s back from one of the alcoves. Her eyes were glowing like the golden Sun, and her voice grew louder the nearer she drew to them. She reached for his hand, singing at a gradual crescendo. They were transfixed by one another, both moved by a power beyond them. Unlike with Samuel though, Seraph looked blissful to see the Light, and for that moment, she seemed to share that happiness.

Alma glanced at the alcoves that lined the Great Hall. Wingies were filling in, trying to catch a glimpse of the source of the miracle. Chimes rang out all over the mountain castle, reacting to the presence of wind. The Head Wingie could feel wind was about to speak to them, but she doubted she needed to tell anyone to listen. She felt her lips part and words flow forth ….

“Darkness sleeps within Wind,” called voices from all Wingies touched by the presence in the hall. “After years of stillness, a mighty wind shall rise and sweep clean the land, and with this majestic gust, the wheel of Destiny shall once more turn within Aurora.”

Samuel gasped. The need he felt was beginning to satiate. The craving was morphing into a high he had never experienced. He felt weightless, like a vapor that could just dissolve in the air. His eyes rolled back just as words slipped from his lips along with the other Wingies, echoing throughout the mountain.

“The wheel of Destiny never veers from it course …. Let your spirit be carried on its path ….”