Eclipse: the Beginning

“The prophecy!” Bazak cried, spewing almost half the contents of his mouth across the table. Celestial dodged, instinctively, but Seraph took a bit to his left arm, which was hidden in his hair. He froze, trying not to lose his temper over something so small. The Wind god rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath.

It was at that moment that Bazak noticed the bulge under the wrap Seraph wore. Raising an eyebrow, the Wingie leaned to the side to have a better view of the god’s right side. His eyes gaped in surprise. A second cry rang out as he jumped from his seat on the floor, pointing a finger at Seraph. Alma was beginning to think the youth should not be present.

“A …! A …! You …! You’re … a … woman?! I was defeated by a goddess?!”

“Bazak … please learn to still your thoughts before they reach your lips,” Alma advised, thoroughly embarrassed by the younger’s outburst. She bowed in shame to Seraph, “I apologize on his behalf. He has little training in manners.”

“Is there a problem with a woman possessing such strength?” Celestial clicked Lord Zion’s sword against Alma’s table. Seraph just fell face first to the table, moaning in humility.

“No! I mean … I just,” Bazak’s sputtering slowly calmed as he glanced between the soldier and god. Celestial’s eyes were glowing brighter in irritation, so much so that the young man’s voice stilled in his throat. The youth slumped back to the floor, lowering his head in shame.

“Bazak?” Alma tiredly looked over at the youth beside her. “What is the matter?”

“Forgive me …” the young Wind replied in a small voice. “I … I had assumed by your voice that … well … I had thought you were a man … I am so sorry. I feel awful.”

Celestial glanced at the young god to see what his reaction would be. He remained as he was, face down to the table. At first, she thought he might be trying to stifle his temper. That was her theory until she noticed his hands gripping his upper arms. Was he trembling slightly? The fury waned from her eyes as she realized how upset the comment had made Seraph. She wondered if he felt insulted or wounded. For once, she wished Samuel’s empathy was around to read someone, even if it was downright frightening when the Nomad used it.

“No … it’s all right.”

The Light gaped in shock. Seraph had raised the pitch in his voice as he had when he presented as a woman. What was he doing? This would only lead to more confusion.

“People tend to get confused often about that. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.” After a moment longer, the Wind forced himself to lift his head to look back at the young Wingie, wearing the same smile he had when he was taken to the viceroy’s mansion. Celestial was too dumbfounded by the act to speak.

“Bazak,” Alma spoke softly, “would you let me speak to our guests alone, please?” The younger nodded, rising from the floor to step outside. Once he had closed the door, the mystic glanced back at the Wind god. “Forgive me for not asking your names. I believe your companion’s name was Samuel, and yours was Celestial. I cannot seem to recall hearing your name, young god. Again, I apologize. Would you mind telling me?”

“Saraii,” Seraph replied, as he sat upright once again. “Forgive my rudeness by not introducing myself sooner.” The well-practiced lie came back all too easily. Seraph was stunned by it, but the act he had portrayed for the last few years hid it well.

“I see. Would you allow me to divine you then?”

Both Seraph and Celestial froze. The Light knew that divination could only speak truth. If Alma divined Seraph, his deception could be completely exposed, making him appear a liar to a stranger that they needed help from. She paused her thoughts, wondering why she was worrying over this. Seraph had done the deed, so it would fall on his shoulders, not her own. Why did she care if he looked a fool? He usually did anyway.

Seraph tried to think of a way around her request. He had never witnessed a divination before, so he was not sure how to deceive a mystic. He also knew that when a mystic requested to divine you, it was a great honor, so turning her down would make him seem ungrateful. The sweat forming on the back of his neck mixed with the heat in his chest as he tried to think of what to do.

At that moment, the chimes rang from behind Alma. Seraph looked up at the window arch, gaping at the instrument. He could feel the breeze entering the room, swirling gingerly about him. When he felt it enter his nostrils and filling his chest, his eyes closed and his spirit opened to hear its message: Trust.

“What does the wind tell you, young god?” Alma asked with a small smile. She could see the struggle in the god’s eyes, and by seeing their native element come for comfort, she knew that there were great things to come on this Wind’s path.

Celestial stared at the god beside her, anxious for his answer.

“Lady Alma.” His normal voice returned, so she had a feeling she knew what it would be. “I would be honored if you would divine me.”

“I am glad to hear it,” the mystic said cheerfully. “Could I ask for your birthday?”

“Western month of wind week on Zion’s day.”

The air stilled completely as Alma gaped in awe at Seraph’s face. He looked solemn and lonely. Why was that? She felt an ache in her chest, trying to fathom why a god of Wind would feel isolated. Looking back at the dark eyes, she told herself that the divination might hold the answer to that. She closed her eyes, calling upon the wind to speak through her.

“I should leave you two alone,” Celestial said as she began to stand. A hand grasped her robe, stopping her. She glanced at the Wind, wondering why he had stopped her. Divinations were intimate and personal. He was already upset, so what did he want with her witnessing his further embarrassment?

“Please stay,” his voice was practically begging. She hated seeing people so humbled. He could not even look at her. Silently cursing him for looking so pitiful, she sat back down. Not a word was spoken, but when she set Lord Zion’s sword beside her, the god’s hand released its hold.

“Zion’s day,” Alma spoke in a voice that seemed to echo around the room. It was as if the words were carried away from her lips before she spoke them. Seraph stared directly at her as she began, for he sensed the presence of wind within her. Her eyes were dilated, as if she were unconscious with her eyes still open, talking in her sleep. Had she become possessed by the element as he had before? “Wind week ….”

Celestial’s guard was on high alert. She had never witnessed a divination like this. It was as if the air itself was alive around them, but that meant danger to her trained body. Her muscles flexed, ready to spring at any sudden movements. She stole a glance at the mystic responsible for the phenomena. Celestial froze at her facial expression. She knew that face, but it had been ages since she had last seen it. Before she felt too nostalgic, the opaque gaze looked away, denying the one tear that dared to respond to the memory.

“In the month of Western Wind,” Alma paused for a moment. Closing her dark eyes, she turned inward. Seraph narrowed his eyes. The wind’s presence seemed intermingled with something else. It felt almost as if a consciousness – apart from the three of them – had joined them. The wind itself yielded to it. What did this mean?

“Zion,” the Wingie said at last, her eyes still closed, “the guardian god of all winds, is the embodiment of the unbound spirit, never yielding, always wandering. He is the protector of freedom for all in Aurora, the freedom to roam or remain at will. The eldest of the five guardians, he is steadfast and protective of his home, people, and world ….

“The week of wind heralds the element of restlessness, drive, and adventure. It is an element of action, unable to stand by and do nothing, as it conjured up funnels to separate Fire and Water long ago. It symbolizes freedom from bondage for all people, and willing to act on behalf of any oppressed. The element of excitement and wonder urges all to seek adventure and discovery….

“The month of Western Wind is one of remembrance and learning for the province of the west. It is a month to reflect on its history and spirit as well as its role since the Great War.

“With these three combined,” Alma’s eyes slowly opened in her conclusion, “I see that the wind itself has chosen you for a great purpose. As Zion has vanished from this world, his land has fallen into despair and oppression. This day also marks the wind’s return to Aurora, twenty years passed, and I see that it returned upon the moment of your birth. The wind has told me this. You are not Zion. You are his proxy to restore freedom to your homeland and Zion to his rightful place. You were born with a destiny of which you cannot escape, but it will not become of bondage but of adventure and self-discovery.”

The atmosphere lightened as Alma returned to herself. Even after all was calm again, Celestial and Seraph gaped back at the Wingie. Neither one of them could speak. The divination was quite specific. Aurora’s restoration was clearly in his destiny, but the liberation of Western Wind was not a part of their schedule. Did the wind desire them to start a war already? Samuel had made it clear to both of them that he wanted none of that, for he did not seek the wrath of King Zemnas to fall on the people of Aurora. What could they do, though? Should they follow the wind or Samuel?

“Grandmother Wingie,” Seraph whispered, “what should I do?”