#Ost'kir

[bloodredx]

Day 16: Victory

Fire, glorious and bright. Holder of the sun and all that lays under the gaze of hot vision, coiled into memories of beauty against all odds. Heat and atrocities are given in the reaction, yes. But so too could there not be innovation in the scourge of its light. All are subjected to burning, internally, externally. He, glorious sun, speaks so little, but each word crackling in the ear as if blasted from cannons.

Yes, the bearer of the sun and innovation, to know tactics and glory. War, violence, of course. But warmth, love, all things of this word “cozy” this form has heard before. The Precious Living often loving and hating him in equal regards, Fire is a blaze of strength and a bastion of things feared. But not so much that the risk is not worth the cost. Yes, the small victories, the large triumphs, all rest under the domain of this most brilliant Creation. Passions, if allowed, oft get the best of this one. How delightful.

Though, even where one might not expect, Fire is there. In face of rain, opposition of his sister Water, taking the form of Lightning. Her excellency, working in splendor together, forming such awe inspiring displays of strength and power. To fuel innovation and creation, minor in scale of course! But still flabbergasting! That circuits and wires, simple metals and conduits can store and transfer data! That turning of cranks and small scale explosions transfer such momentum, travel no longer so arduous.

A multitude of crowns placed on Fire and strong shoulders, but then why so frequent are the gates shut? To block access to that which is made worthy, shrine and port alike to the ones who should like to bathe in cleansing light? Ferronous is not a friendly place. But Fire is known too often for leaving ashes in his wake. So too are those behinds the walls. Burnt out. In the dark.

--

The thin thatching of her hut was wearing away, but that didn’t bother Aelita very much. It had been nearly, what, sixty years now? since she had had to retreat from everything she had known, return to the borders of the country of her birth and hide away in squalor. Not the most glamorous life, but the old woman knew better than most what the cost of failure was. Still, the land was good, the horse liked the pasture, and no one much bothered her. At least not typically. In a feeble attempt to repair the eroding wall of the south side of the hut, her mud had run low. Still, it wasn’t in her nature to complain, so dragging the bucket up to her chest, she made her way slowly down to the creek being careful as she could not to slip. A fall was the last thing she needed.

Finally at the cool crisp water of the river, she bent down low, folds of her linens pressing into the depths of the very mud she was collecting. It seemed the batches she could carry were getting smaller and smaller each day. Once filled, the hoisted the bucket back up with a tug, this time letting it hang limply by her side as she moved across the slope. A few steps farther and she stopped, wiping her brow of the heat of the day. “Oh, Ost’kir, such a scorch.” She mused slightly, readjusting her hands, before continuing on to get more thatching materials.

The dry straw was at the edge of her meager plot, where the animals would likely get more use of it than her. Not that she didn’t mind sharing of course. A light wind rustled through each stalk as she cut through just what could fill her hand. “Perfect.”

Strength was beginning to fail her, and so she took the longer, but flatter, route back to the hut; all the while passing the lingering rocks of a stone fence that time was beginning to tear down. The path, once beautiful, was now being taken over by weeds in their ever greedy quest for more light and soil. Aelita smiled, it was still just as lovely as ever. A sanctuary alone.

Rustling of feet against stones caught her ear, forcing her to look up from the path. She stopped at the sight; a young man was standing, staring in quiet contemplation at the small altar built at the edge of her property. He was tall and thin, with long dark hair tied behind his head in a rustic style, very practical. Though he couldn’t have been more than 18 summers by her estimate. His clothes were simple as hers were, a charcoal grey tunic on his chest and simple black boots adorned his feet. Of course the altar he was looking at was of her fabrication, a bit of something to remind her of exactly what she had lost. What she had neglected to do. But nary had a day gone by where she didn’t tend to it or talk to it. Seemed like now was the time for today.

Aelita made no effort to conceal her steps, trying not to spook the poor fellow. Once close enough she called out a gentle greeting, placing her materials at the base of the stone structure and then brushing her hands on the hem of her skirt before going up to him. He hadn’t yet responded to her greeting, instead remaining transfixed at the small idols before him. All seven had been crudely carved by her, but each one had a small item or talisman for offering. She changed out the flowers as often as she could, remixed paint that had faded. Though certainly ramshackle in comparison to all the fineries she had witnessed in her youth, there was a better connection here for her than any of the shrines she had once visited or tended to. Well, almost all of them at least.

Still, the youth had not responded, so she clapped her hands with a friendly tone, leaning over to him. “Ya need something, boy? I’ve not much time for gawkers, though if you want to stay around, I have plenty of things that need lifting.” Her gentle laughter quickly turned to a harsh cough, her body not quite wanting to obey her mind anymore.

The stoic face of the boy eased, if ever so slightly. She might not have noticed if she wasn’t so close, and for sure her lungs weren’t allowing her eyes to be as open as they could be in the moment. But he didn’t seem cruel, only curious. It took her a moment to recollect herself, and only then did he speak. “Of course, madam.”

He still didn’t turn to look at her, so she followed his eyes to see what he was so fixated on. The idols of Narcissta Priasi and Adamsa Frisay, eternally sitting side by side. Of course. A blasphemous offense in some places. Must be odd to see so openly. “If you do not mind me asking, madam.” He spoke again, voice soft and low. As though he almost didn’t want the words to come out. “Why do you have these so open? Are you not afraid?”

Smiling, Aelita pressed a hand to his back. He didn’t flinch, or react at all to her touch. “It’s a simple thing, my boy. But I’ll need your name in exchange. Can’t be having such a conversation with strangers.”

He blinked, as if processing that for a moment. “Aiden. You may call me Aiden.”

“Well, Aiden, if they wanted something from me after all these years, all those old folks at the Order would’ve come down here to get me by now. No one messes with an old lady, what would I do to them? And even so, you’re the first person I’ve seen in months. No one comes out to bother me. What do I care if they see them? They’ll just call me an old crone and be on their way. I pay them no mind.”

“No fear of fury?” He questioned, though she couldn’t quite place his tone.

“’course not. Got nothing to be mad about. Just because they feel the wrath of the gods doesn’t mean I have to. I choose to believe they have better things to do than be angry.”

“You certainly seem very assured of that. To have even the… Dreaded one… on display here.”

She nudged him in the ribs a little, not too hard though. “I’ll take the little victories where I can. Why’re you all the way out here? Where are you headed?”

“Ferronous.” Aiden replied flatly once more, a bit more confidence in his voice.

“Ah, are the gates open again? Ost’kir should be happy to have visitors again. Time has been so hard to keep track of.” She bent back over to collect her materials. “Well, if you need a rest, I have cool water and a few pears to spare! You should come with me.”

Her hand tightened to grip the handle, but finding nothing to gain purchase on but air. She looked to the ground, seeing the bucket and thatching gone. Turning to see where it might have gone to, she saw it in Aiden’s arms. A narrow, but weary smile on his lips, eyes bright as if she had known them all her life. “Lead on, madam.”

(OC-tober challenge by @oc-tober2022 can be found here.)

[bloodredx]

Canticle 15

The elemental four took hold of each soul all in their unique says, ceasing the conflict and lifting all apart, Vestige and human alike. Though frustration was apparent when none could hold the mysterious form of the stranger, their parent hidden from their own views in the way only The First God could manage. “Stranger, what foul acts have been caused? Told by Vestige and animal alike that no need for violence was met, and yet here thou stands at the center of it all.” All gods spoke in unity, each casting their own accusation. “Would it not be enough? Many miracles are granted in the flexibilities offered to those under the cloak of Humanity. Animals need not argue in such matter. Wolves have pecking orders, as do dolphins and hens. What purpose does it show now to develop something later than never at all?”

The First God merely smiled, their accusations were but soft blows. “Ah, without seeing, so led and blind. For what good are these souls if they are so accustomed to the word of gods that will not always be there?”

The elemental four bristled at this, accusingly coming back. “It is the duty of these forms to maintain these souls, the worlds, all elements in the domain. What boldness comes from the like of thine own lips to claim irresponsibility thusly? That abandonment of the post is the only option?”

“Of course not.” The First God in their human form waved a hand simply, as if gesturing to all the truths of the universe. “There will come many a day where one of none of the elemental gods are hear the heed the call to assistance that these humans need. They lack the instinct to follow and feel what is right in their souls that the rest of the animals do, left instead to wonder and question alone. This dependency on direct guidance, a fallacy. It should lead only to timely destruction.”

Wind was about to speak, seemingly come to a realization when Fire spouted forth ahead of her words. “And what magnitude should lead one as thee to guide the hand of our duties? Humans, though definite as described know nothing more than thee. What would make thine own insight more valuable?”

“Wait-“ Wind tried to get her words in, right as Moth leapt from the shoulder of The First One.

Their human form tearing apart bit by bit as they reassembled themselves into something more akin to the godly form expected, though it would be nothing like any of the souls there would remember, should they have been able to. No, the god was very different, but still bearing all marks of high Divinity that let these elemental four, the vestiges, and all the humans present know exactly the weight of consequences to be dealt with. Moth again landed on the outstretched hand of The First One as their words, Notes, and Song flew through the air around all. Only the humans were addressed directly at this point. “The errors made are in effort of growth. Though capable in all things, know that these four gods are just extensions of this form. They contain vast powers and knowledge sure, but they can never know what it means to be in the form of flesh. Even if they take the form this one just abandoned. There will come moments where answers will not flow from the mouths of Divinity, instead coming from within. That is the unique gift granted by the soul and its existence given, that Willpower known within can act miracles. Be sure to use it correctly, there are few opportunities for second chances.”

Turning to their own creations, The First One smiled once more, in spite of the four cowering in fear of their Divine parent. “Mistakes made here were not slight, and errors shall not be punished, dear Myseri. For the actions of this form cannot be known by thee, and there was no hope in winning a game one is unaware of being played. So take the lesson learned thusly, that the Song contains complexities not known even to thee. That all play important roles, and duties above all else should come forth.”

The god then turned to the Vestiges, who were ready and willing to listen to the words of their great one without remorse. “This form shall take these gods back with them for a brief moment. Certainly, there can be hope that the same care passed from the hands of this form prior can be expected?”

The Vestiges agreed quickly, for they knew better than to take advantage of the kindness of The First One. And with a flickering image, the great god clapped their hands, taking back their creations from Ha’venia, save for Moth who was left fluttering in the dull space once their Notes had left.

[bloodredx]

Canticle 12

Though the great mass of souls and their beastly forms followed one of the gods in their own lessons, there were still plenty that did not budge in that initial migration. Certainly, each of them shared in their own slight affinity for the Divine and their elemental understanding, all souls of course do. But these few were not so strongly convinced. And when trying to follow a deity of other color than their own, they found little purchase. And when following none, all meaning felt lost. No, these few souls wanted something a bit more.

Their caretaking Vestiges, keeping watch as the gods dealt with the more willing souls, spoke in whispered tones about what to do with the situation. For none of these soul-clad beasts had developed any traits that would strengthen them in this dangerous world. Their souls just as at risk of corruption as before the four gods were presented. No hard tooth or claw, no thick fur. It was as if nothing could be done for them, to leave them exposed and driveling for the rest of Time and his luxuries.

“Perhaps…” One fire Vestige questioned softly, “That we might be able to teach them ourselves.”

“True.” A water one concurred. “Our lessons may not be as bold, but certainly must hold some worth.”

“But what to tell?” An earth one demanded. “We all have lessons, none should take priority.”

“Then we tell all.” A wind one nodded. “For none are greater than the others. The gods should be so pleased to witness something so marvelous, that all might be able to work together.”

Moth happened to be fluttering by for their first lessons, perching amongst the leaves and shrubs to watch in silence. “Such things are both good and bad.” It mumbled. “For to have all is to have nothing. The First One would be most intrigued.”

After lingering a touch too long, the Moth fluttered course, finally feeling it had enough details worthy of telling and sought out The First One. As it left, the footsteps of the other gods were felt. The four finding these creatures left behind nothing like their own share of newly branded animals. All four in unison questioned the Vestiges here, for none were given permission to share the words of the Divine in such a way. Flinching, the Vestiges gave their answer solemnly. “It was one reason alone. They would not have one of thee, so granting them all was the only option.”

These curious beasts had learned so much, standing on their own accord now in the form familiar. The gods marveled at something, so fragile and weak in body just the same as their own soul components, but so strong in mind and Will. In fact, their soul’s true Willpower flowed easily along their flesh as if the soul were intertwined perfectly.

“Bizarre.” Wind commented. “They are nothing like the others.”

“Worse, but better all the same.” Water agreed.

“So now what?” Fire asked. “A disgrace to our own teachings, an affront to the Divine parent.”

“Or perhaps an interesting development.” Earth posed. “To be treated with the same care that The First One offered so long ago. It was their companionship that brought the forms to being.”

“It must be a duty to continue such blooming.” The Vestiges agreed hastily, they held no desire to learn of repercussions should the gods desire otherwise.

“Very well.” All four spoke in unity, the hint of their parent slipping through the various tones and textures of their Notes. “From hence forth, these beasts shall be known as Humans. And they hold the lessons of all the elements. Stewards of both the Vestiges and the gods, let them be granted their duties thusly.”

Humans had the gifts of all and none of the gods, and still hold that slot today. For through Willpower and strength alone, we craft the world to our needs, adjusting for the gods and their whims accordingly. Every breath taken, each drop of blood, each growth of bone, each firing nerve, the Divine rushes through. It is due to these simple kindnesses that we are aware of all around us. And that spark should never be taken for granted.

[bloodredx]

Canticle 5

But once more, a single weeping soul threw its Notes into the Song. The caustic discord found its way to the ears of the First One, who rushed to the aid of such a suffering beast. It found them shrieking, scared and alone, abandoned by its kin for fear of the same happening to them. The First One scooped up such a being, cradling it within the energy of eternity as it had so many eons ago to the first soul that had slipped out of the veil. “Oh, dear creature, why is it that thou suffers so?”

Looking over the soul of the beast, those same disturbing cracks and crumbles appeared. Yes, the cycle as the god had foreseen was coming to a close. This world was a harsh and cruel place, beyond the severities seen in the modern days. Fire coursed the lands in the form of lava, floods rampant to wash away all. The winds whipped and were aggressive beyond muster, and the earth was prone to split and crumble away below the feet. But these events, once rare in the beginning, had only increased. The Song was warping and warbling, and at first the god found it a curious quirk, something to be studied and beheld, but it soon grew. And the cascade was a trouble to stop, combining in all these tragedies against the Previous Living. This one soul was only the first victim, but this would spread. The First God was faced with a terrible choice: rip the Precious Living back to their safe spot behind the veil and protect them with their Divine might, but break all trust and happiness that was given in those first free steps. Or, the god could of course allow this to happen, there was something to be said in allowing a Song to end, after all there is no reason to expect all to continue. Let the souls fall to dust, to be the fluke of existence that they truly were and fade to memory.

The First God did not want that either, and so torn by these two miserable fates, it fell to inaction. Staring at this pitiful thing, pain again entered its form. They reached out, fading from Ha’venia to return back to the realm of the Divine. Alone, they searched for some solution, for in their own realm it was possible again to see all answers, their eyes shining in different colors still torn between those two solutions had to make a choice. And in a moment of passion, determined that it could have neither.

The true problem was lying in the corners of existence, the duties the god had been denying to act upon in order to follow their own desires and wills. To linger amongst the Precious Living was to neglect the rest of the universe, and so it found the energies of Fire, Water, Earth, and Air stagnating. Corruption of these forces were spreading as they backed up, unable to cycle amongst the world and the Divine back and forth as they should. For The First One had not been there to hold open the curtain for each of these forces. And so it destroyed and tainted all that passed along it. That corrupted soul in its clutches now knowing the taste of its god’s neglect.

Guilt and misery pained The First One. All of this world was a fluke after all, the natural state of these energies were obligated to be separate, at rest, not dynamic as this world had become. The god, in stress, unfurled their great wings. All beneath them trembled in fear, for something so magnificent cannot be beheld by the living alone, and indeed, this distraction proved well enough. A similar creature, one containing a soul crawled along, so warped by the god and its might it reared back. “Great one!” It cried, fighting its own fears, traumas, corruption to face its friend, companion and brother all at once. “Please, do something! We are but tools in your hands. Do what needs to be done to make us useful.”

The First One was taken aback by a creature so feeble being so bold, finding courage in the body of nothing greater than a worm. But the words were enough to free the paralysis from their Divine form. An answer was suddenly struck clear. Taking the failing beast close, they comforted the corrupted soul as best they could, softly whispering sweet words. “Dear companion. There is no solution in this quandary without sacrifice. Either this form takes from thee all freedoms, or it loses thee entirely. Both unacceptable. But…” The god turned to face the rest of the universe, seeing the chaos spiraling, unsustainable and improbable. “Tasks must be done elsewhere. Tasks that this form cannot bear to complete. Tasks alone that might save thee. Thine own kin. If it must be done, so be it. For this form, now knowing the truths of companionship, cannot bear to be without accompaniment. The Song would not move the same. So this form must face that sacrifice.”

All at once, before any one thing, Precious Living, Vestige, or other cosmic power could react, The First One dissolved their form, taking the shape of its nameless power, a pure entity of Divine might. It scooped the worm-beast up at once, and in another the failing soul of the corrupted one. “If this form might be granted, there is something to be done. At least to remember. To always know what once was, what could have been.”

So here The First One enacted their very First Act of Creation. The worm-beast was drawn, changed in ways their own body or soul could not have even mapped, transmogrifying from a worm, to a tight ball, and finally breaking free a creature of intense beauty, wings not unlike that of the god who now held them. “Oh great one, a thousand vows of gratitude is owed to thee! For what does this one deserve such a blessing?”

“No blessing, dear Precious one. A mere offering, a creation in stand to bless with memorial. Let this form and the might within it be always permanent, even if it is not. Dear one, Moth, please remember and listen to the Song always. That is what this one requires.”

Before the newly named Moth could answer, a terrible shriek from the corrupted beast forced the god to act. Sacrifice. Adamsa Narcissta Norinteen Frisay Priasi, stepped away from this world and tore the very wings of Divinity off of their back. The symbol of all they were, their might, their mastery of the elements and energies that build this world in order to protect the Precious Living. The mere flukes of the world that they had come to care for so passionately. No shriek of pain nor regret tainted the Song as the god did this no, the sacrifice was necessary and they knew it. Such actions would be the best for all, even at the expense of might beyond word or mortal understanding. Yes, as the failing traces of their omnipotence leaked from their form, a new set of power brushed around them.

For the wings of this great god each were attuned to one of those primal energies. Fire, Water, Air, and Earth all swirled before them. And in that last act of power, the quickly fading might of the god enacted its Second Act of Creation. From each wing, a new form was sculpted, shaping and moving in all the same sense of sentience as the great god themselves. Each one becoming a god in their own right, though not as great as The First One alone. Exhausted from the pain and weariness, the nerves of self-sacrifice, The First One addressed these new creations, deeming them the Myseri. The Musicians.