#but pls once u have the time read this!! i'll be incorporating it into my aether portrayal 110% of the time

[viaetor]

#𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄: an essay on cosmic solitude, divine duty, ancient lullabies about never-ending mysteries and universe horrors wonders. inspired by the poem “𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖” by 𝘩. 𝑝. 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡, as follows: “the house was old, with tangled wings outthrown, / of which no one could ever half keep track, / and in a small room somewhat near the back / was an odd window sealed with ancient stone. / there, in a dream-plagued childhood, quite alone / i used to go, where night reigned vague and black; / parting the cobwebs with a curious lack / of fear, and with a wonder each time grown. // one later day i brought the masons there / to find what view my dim forbears had shunned, / but as they pierced the stone, a rush of air / burst from the alien voids that yawned beyond. / they fled – but i peered through and found unrolled / all the wild worlds of which my dreams had told.”

ㅤㅤonce upon a time, if time could flow for cosmic beings the same way as verses of the folk in bards’ mouths do, they were two in one. lai’methir, the magnum opus of the constellations; caelings, travellers, guardians. sword and shield, she and he. always together, never one without the other—almost as if they knew not how to exist separately. perhaps they truly didn’t, perhaps they certainly could yet they chose not to learn. regardless, such were things, and neither of them seemed discontent with being stuck to their hips—twins not because they came to be from the same stellar bosom, but due to the fact they were born in the exact planes of dimension, time-space-similarity. from their infancy as proto-stars to their most adventurous years, they’d waltz closely, reconnoitring the cosmos from tip to tip, always flying at the same pace, hands held, even if their eyes looked for different things.

ㅤㅤon the surface, they were very much one in the same, radiating absoluteness and power, carrying themselves with the same posture. but it’d only take a look deep into their shining eyes to know that they were not painted with the same hues of gold. that, however, was a secret they kept close to themselves, daring not to utter a word about it even amongst their kin. aether, the golden comet, would look for planets that held long histories to patiently unfold, fascinated even by the most broken ones. lumine, the silvery bloom, would observe the astros that were yet to be born or to wither, awed by the certainties of the laws of the universe. a crippling sense of dependency ran in their black-matter blood, inciting goosebumps on the rare occasions they lost each other during a fight. if one came to die, would so the other or would one of them get stronger by their loss? they’d rather not know. they didn't need to know. so together they always were.

ㅤㅤuntil things started to change.

ㅤㅤyou see, dear listener, the balance of the cosmos is a delicate one, meant not to be tainted by the hands of boorish gods and goddesses and their wavering greed. no. it asks for fortitude, tenacity, that is, it needs a celestial nature. therefore, for such a noble role, the universe tasks itself with giving birth to divine creatures of their own making—order-keepers, special caelings created by the astros to help enforce the heavenly principles of all worlds. that is what our dearest travellers of yore were meant to be, order-keepers caelings; executors of every command the ethereal forces whispered in their ears, saviours of cries that echoed through the vast blackness, devotees of the absolute holiness of glittering lights. from a powerful constellation they whence came, thus they were expected great things from, just as renowned soldiers are by ruthless generals.

ㅤㅤbut travelling through worlds, exploring and adventuring the complexity of life—that is a dangerous thing to do. you begin to learn, to wonder, to feel, to think, to question. and suddenly, the hand holding dimension-shattering sword prefers to touch the softness of a rose petal, to turn pages of a romantic book, to gently twirl a mortal’s strand of hair. that is, you begin to care. and that is a path you cannot easily walk away from.

ㅤㅤafter a few cycles on a void-forsaken planet, they had concluded little changes ought to be made to its ecosystem according to what the stars told them from the horizon. they never interfered with living beings’ spans directly on their volition, you see, it mattered if they spoke, barked or simply photosynthesized; it was not their direct jurisdiction unless the balance depended on it. more often than not, they’d simply alter mountains, and a planet’s core, and burn forbidden artefacts after immortalising them in their memories—simple order-keepers’ duties.

ㅤㅤalthough, this time, they were commanded to do something different—to shatter the planet’s core and kill a specific person. a youngling who would grow up to learn how to solve their homeland issues. it was an easy kill. they were far more used on slaying maddened beasts or cutting throats of far too arrogant deities. this was certainly... an odd change of pace, they thought. but they bore no complaints. how could they? they were each other’s witnesses, bearers of murderous weapons, cleaning each other of any filth that got stuck on their clothing. whatever grave sin that youngster was about to commit would be no more.

ㅤㅤwhile they finished wiping the world of any clues of their interference, aether found a brilliant gemstone in the youngling’s pocket. right next to it, was a paper with inking on top; a primitive representation of what he supposed was the tyke’s family. he crouched down, tilting his head as the mortal remains burned hot still on his cheek, taking the yellowish prism into his hand.

ㅤㅤgently rotating it, he could see all the colours of the universe through such a gem—the mixture of green and blue, just like the nebulae trails and clusters he and his sister would rest upon, the orange sounds that the stars made when they whispered them lullabies, the whitened pinks of their favourite quasars to play with, back when they were just a few hundred years old. he could see it all that he had lived, and all that he would still live. right there, on his palm. such a realisation was a strange one to him, poetics were never meant to be a part of his functionalities, after all. he found himself questioning if such a youngling had ever seen all those colours, if they, in their limited mortal eyes, could comprehend colours that didn’t yet exist in popular vocabulary. if they had lived them. and if yes, which ones? which didn’t they get a chance to experience? how about his family, the others of his kind? had they lived through such colours, the same ones he has? would they miss any tints of existence now that one of their own was gone? it was hard to say and it wasn’t as if he could get any answers from the remains on the floor. all that was left for him was to deduce using logic, but that was never his forte. he was still only a couple of thousand years old, after all, and all he needed to know was written by the stars.

ㅤㅤlumine never spoke a word during his reflections, even when she had her wings spread open, ready to depart back to the heaven above. she waited behind him, silently, like she always did. they never talked unless it was in extreme cases, their voices being strangers to each other’s senses for many years. aether didn’t need to look back to know what expression she was making—stoic, sovereign, sublime. just like always. nevertheless, he eventually did turn to face her, firmly holding the gemstone up as if that chunk was a revolutionary thing to be brought to the cosmos.

ㅤㅤhow many minutes, hours or days passed before she broke the silence, you ask? he does not remember, but eventually, she did, and that’s one of the reasons why we have this story. “i see nothing,” stated her dryly. much like him, she knew not how to wonder out loud, a warrior of the stars to her marrow, but what she truly wanted to state was an inquiry: why are you holding that?

ㅤㅤ“look closer. we can see ourselves.”

ㅤㅤ“‘tis not a mirror.”

ㅤㅤaether tilted his head, even if his face remained as expressionless as his companion. she was right. but couldn’t she see what he was seeing? then… turning the gemstone three degrees to the left so it would beam a gentle sandy glow, much like her blond hair and eyes, he continued: “‘tis you.”

ㅤㅤthis time, it was lumine who tilted her head, curious, even if she hadn’t unsummoned her weapon yet. she waited for something more, but nothing came. “a gemstone.” stated her, but this time, her tone lingered for a few more octaves than needed, a hint of hesitation with her own response.

ㅤㅤ“no, you.”

ㅤㅤ “it holds no weapon, it cannot be me.”

ㅤㅤif he knew what emotions are, he’d have furrowed his brow and called himself frustrated. but he didn’t. he remained silent and still for a while, until she spoke again:

ㅤㅤ“we’re done, then. let us fly back.”

ㅤㅤmore conscious eyes stared back at the infant they had just killed, resting there. the picture of their family that was previously next to the gemstone made him even more puzzled. was that gemstone a mere currency in this world, like coins were to some, or was it a personal treasure to that child just like that frivolous portrait? why else would they carry it in the same pocket? could people be treasures? he supposed, knowing how mortals and deities knew no bounds to their arrogance and cruelty sometimes. ah... could it be that they were different things, but equally as important? the gemstone ought to be a currency in this dried out planet, but perhaps the photo had a sentimental value. what was it that the mortals called? right, home. homes were meant to be important. home was a concept that he heard about over and over again. a place you always returned to, somewhere you belonged, a warm haven—whatever those things meant. according to many, every being had one.

ㅤㅤ“brother.” he remembers to this day, she didn’t call him by his name back then. not until they had…  well, that’s a story for another time.

ㅤㅤbut, just as freshly, he remembers this was his first question in his entire immortal life: “are we going home, to the astros?” heavy sandy eyelashes blinked far more than what a stoic face would allow, unsure of how to process. so he continued as he raised himself from the ground, gemstone still beaming through his gloves. “do we have a home?”

ㅤㅤshe looked down, pupils focused nowhere in particular. she wasn’t made for this; neither of them was. not this kind of wondering, at least. they were meant to do things as expressly told by the stars, like the obedient children that they were raised to be. but she closed her eyes, almost as if she hoped to not be perceived by the stars above—if she understood emotions, she’d say she was afraid of being judged and punished. but she didn’t understand anything of the sort, so she most certainly wasn’t.

ㅤㅤand so, she spoke again, at long last, while dissipating her galactic weapon and offering her bloody hand instead: “you have me.”

ㅤㅤand that was enough. to change their entire lives, to change the course of the universe. when their eyes met again, they weren’t the same. they knew the language of the stars, the idioms spoken by hundreds of galaxies and scriptures lost to time, but they were yet too young to know how to express the relief found in that question, in that answer. what mattered, however, was that their soon-to-be hearts knew. suddenly, the cosmos felt a bit less empty, a lot warmer, and they weren’t just one in separate bodies, but two individuals.

ㅤㅤso nothing came out of his mouth as a response to her statement, for it wasn’t necessary. joint by their hips since birth, they needed only to breathe to comprehend each other’s intentions and this fortunately was no exception. so instead of speaking, he took the gemstone with him in one hand, and his sister’s in his other, spreading his wings alongside hers. he promised wordlessly that he would take that jewel with him and show all the colours of the universe that that kid couldn’t experience —almost as an apology. to what, exactly, he’d still discover.

ㅤㅤbut within the cryptic depths of the universe, some of the elder stars knew that their obedient order-keepers would be blind followers no more. to wonder and wander by themselves was their first sin, their first break of the contract with the heavenly principles. and oh, how they would pay for it. it’d take a few eons for their transgression to burden them, but it would. for now, only the galaxies would bleed.

ㅤㅤas they flew together to nowhere in specific, thinking to themselves they’d simply wait for the next set of instructions and that nothing much had changed, aether felt something clutching in his stellar core, telling him to not look back to the planet they had just left.

ㅤㅤunfortunately, he did. he did. and oh, what a terrible mistake that was.

ㅤㅤhe learned that order-keepers are not there to follow an always righteous balance but to follow the whims of the oldest astros. for how else could he explain the monstrous black hole that blossomed from the pits of a nearby star, its abyssal tentacles embracing everything around it as the civilizations screamed loud enough for them to hear? he watched, horrified for the first time in his existence, how destructive the cosmos could be. what he could be. he knew now why the newly-born stars only whispered or shyly sung—they were ghosts too afraid of having their spirits burned again in the afterlife, for they dared to shine too bright when they weren’t meant to.

ㅤㅤand he? he was created to be one of their reapers. what a fancy name for a guardian.

ㅤㅤhe squeezed lumine’s hand tighter.