On the Subject of Ångëlįc and Dæmönic Existence
2622 A.G.G. (11 Years Ago)
Castle Įcħor-Nåbįlå, North of the Yavan Mountains
The Continent of Kazakoto
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“Dad, I can’t understand them.” she said as she looked up at me; her little eyes as clear as black diamonds with centers of polished amethyst, yet clouded with the confusion of a child just out of her ten and second name day, struggling to find understanding. “What language is that?”
“They’re speaking in the Goddess’ tongue, Åålįÿåħ.” I answered as I brushed one of her tiny steel gray locs out of her eyes.
“I thought that the Ångëls talked common, like us.”
“They do. But only sometimes; when they’re here, existing at our sides. But when they’re home? They only converse in the Ångëlįc way. You were far too young to remember, but your Godmother spoke it to you once on the day you were born; the very first words you heard when you left your mother’s womb.
“She spoke to you so sweetly, that I could have sworn that you were captivated into silence. She sang to you a song in Ångëlįc so beautiful that when you heard it, you cooed; almost as if you were want to sing along.”
Her wide eyes looked inquisitively to the Ångëlįcs in front of us, then, after a long moment, back to me.
“Do you understand them?” she asked.
“I do now.” I said with a nod. “But I didn’t always.”
“Can you teach me?”
“I could. But I wonder how necessary it is. You don’t really need me to show you; being as you are.”
“I don’t understand. You’re not saying I should…pry it from you, are you?” she expressed to me as she made an audible ick sound and her little body recoiled at the thought. “I don’t like the thought of that dad.”
“That’s not what I meant baby girl. Of course I’ll show you if that’s your wish. But you’re more special than you realize right now. And your gifts are fated to be…vast. What I’m trying to say is, I could show you the way, but when you’re ready, you won’t need me to.”
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On the Subject of Ångëlįc and Dæmönic Speak
Beings that inhabit the Ångëlįc Planes aren’t partial to common speak, regardless of what’s taught within abbey halls by covenant priestesses, nor do the denizens of the Dæmönic Realms move about through their existence speaking is as the priests of the oratory claim. A mistruth that likely stems from scrolls cloistered away among the world’s largest repositories of religious knowledge dating back nearly to the beginning of recorded history, when Ångëlįc presence in the living world was still prevalent. Before the Fall. Before the War of the Drågons. Before the secreting away of the Goddess’ Tree and the Great Departure of Ångëlįcs and Drågons from Mundus.
During such times, they did indeed indulge in common for the sake of mortals’ understanding. But these other-worldly beings have their own tongues. And while common may be the most widely spoken language in the natural world, that’s not something that carries over to the here-after. Not the way people think it does.
The reality is quite different.
The Dįvonësë have a natural tongue for languages. And when one's immortal soul leaves this world for the gates of the Dįvįnë realm of Ëmpÿrë, it’s a gift that’s bestowed to them, along with an understanding of Ångëlįc speech by one of the mighty Ångëls of the Åkårmåuru order.
Sadly, if it’s a person's fate instead to live out the rest of eternity in the cold of the Dæmönic reaches of Brŭmal, such a courtesy as the knowledge of Dæmönic language isn’t naturally afforded. Why this is the case has been lost on me ever since I was made a Drågoon, birthed of Zåkÿntħos. As its not normally in the nature of Åmbrosįå’s children, Fallen or otherwise, to be knowingly or purposefully cruel. It shouldn’t be in them to allow confusion and fear to so oft grip those who arrive in their lands that they either force themselves to learn under great turmoil, or allow themselves to sink to a new level of loneliness and solitude in their misery.
Yet, as far as any of my fellow Dįvonësë know, it’s the practice of the realm that dæmönic speech is only gifted to those deemed worthy by Så’Ħdënåħ herself.
With all of that being said, it should be understood that none of the quotes that follow are first-hand accounts, but the work of much study, archeological and historical research, and educated supposition by the Covenant’s archival prefects and their most accomplished apostles. Additionally, the following passages may not be entirely accurate as they weren’t transcribed as they were thought to be spoken. They’ve been translated here for ease of reading. Because of this, unfortunately, some things may be lost in the translation from the original Ångëlįc to common.
Translated passages will be indicated by the use of bold print.
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Selected Verses from the Vade Mecum: The Holy Book of the Covenant
The Goddess’ Holy Book; the Vade Mecum
The Queen Aamina Translation
The Book of Beginnings – Chapter 1 – Verse 1
(I.) It’s said by the oldest and wisest of the world’s beings, the first of the eluvian races, the sunset elves of the Godreach Mountains, that long before the Great Betrayal, the universe was once as nothing and the world was but a barren rock. All was empty and without life or light. Then came the Goddess; the Queen of Queens. She entered the forgotten darkness of this world from the place of Her ancestors. A plane of existence unknowable to the mortal mind. A world where all of the learnt beings of true Dįvįnë lineage lived unfathomable lives throughout time everlasting.
(II.) The void of this place failed to please Lady Åmbrosįå when She arrived, and so She first stretched out Her hands over the Great Black and painted Her vision of what were to be Her lands; just as a master artist would paint their greatest chef-d'oeuvre. And as Her strokes fell, and Her paint settled, so came to be the glory of Her new home; the Dįvįnë lands of Ëmpÿrë. And She wept at its beauty.
(III.) And yet, She wasn’t done.
(IV.) Gently wiping Her tears from Her face, She raised Her arms and flung those tears into what remained of The Black and they became the stars; creating the majesty of what we mortals call the Great Expanse.
The Goddess’ Holy Book; the Vade Mecum
The Queen Aamina Translation
The Book of Så’Ħdënåħ – Chapter 3 – Verse 5
(V.) And it came to be that She wanted companionship to share in Her eternal existence. And so, She cut one of the locs from her magnificent black mane and interwove it with a piece of Her very own soul. And as Her hands, the colour of the darkest and richest woods, formed and shaped it with the Magick of Creation and all of the passion She could fathom, so did her consort come into being; Her first and most beautiful living creation. The God, Lumå’įl.
(VI.) Together, they brought forth from the land a great tree. A tree that was so grand in scale and beauty that it can scarcely be described. Its bark was as white as newly fallen snow and its leaves were as red as the blood that gives all things life. From its branches grew a mix of red-on-yellow and golden fruit that granted knowledge, invigoration and rejuvenation. A fruit that could create the miracle of life when touched by the Magicks of Creation.
The Goddess’ Holy Book; the Vade Mecum
The Queen Aamina Translation
The Book of Så’Ħdënåħ – Chapter 8 – Verse 8
(VIII.) And it came to be that as She and Her beloved sat under the great White Tree of their creating, feasting on its succulent fruit, that They spoke to each other of Their ongoing loneliness. And as They looked about at the Ǻngëls which had been given life from the very fruit upon which they feasted, they came to realize that it wasn’t a loneliness born of a lack of love from others or each other, but it was a loneliness born of a desire to have a life that was truly of Them.
(IX.) So it was there under the cool shade, on the rolling green plains near the clear waters of a mighty river, with the expansive peaks of snowcapped mountains in the distance, that They did embrace each other in Their desire and want for one another; Their dark skins becoming one flesh in the sun’s shine…
The Goddess’ Holy Book; the Vade Mecum
The Queen Aamina Translation
The Book of Så’Ħdënåħ – Chapter 17 – Verse 11
(XI.) …and thusly, from the consummation of Their passion, did the First Lovers conceive of the First Child.
The Goddess’ Holy Book; the Vade Mecum
The Queen Aamina Translation
The Book of Så’Ħdënåħ - Chapter 20 – Verse 7
(VII.) And so, it was in the revelry and joy of the birth of the beautiful Så’Ħdënåħ, the Princess of Princesses, that for a hundred years Åmbrosįå, the Queen of Queens danced with excitement, and Lumå’įl, the King of Kings sang with fervor. From the effervescence of these moments did pour the heka that inadvertently created all the spheres within our small corner of the Great Expanse. A span of worlds given life in testament to the birth of a Goddess; their existence tied to hers. The truest expression of the love of our Lord and Lady.
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Before Recorded Mortal History (Roughly 5.5 Million Years Ago)
The Lands That Would Come to be Known as Omëÿocån
Soon to be the Fourth Region of the Dįvįnë Realm of Empÿrë
The Ångëls of the nine Celestial Orders are some of creation’s most wondrous beings. Conflict is in their very nature, yet it’s still nature in balance. They’re born compassionate and patient souls, yet they’re no strangers to what mortals call “violence-of-action”. They protect the Gates of Dįvįvįty from those who would wish to fall upon them with distain; the creatures who march under the banner of the Lord and Lady of the Fallen from behind the Walls of Ruin in the Plains of Brŭmal.
They’re terribly loyal to those whom they watch over and they’re the very essence of death to those who endanger whom they love. They’re the children of the Lady of Hosts, who carefully watch over all of the Goddess’ creations and keep order in Her perfect society from their thrones within the Towers of the Nine at the center of the Fourth Dįvįnë of Ëmpÿrë.
Of the nine Orders, there’s the Båståru, who are the messengers of the Goddess. The Båståru-Ëkåru, who are Åmbrosįå’s warriors. The Fåsåru, who are the protectors of all beliefs and faiths and the protectors of mortal beings. The Pårålu, being those who enforce the order of Åmbrosįå’s Dįvįnë pathways. The Kolumbkį, who are said to work the Goddess’ miracles, keep watch over mortals, and are the bestowers of grace and valor. The Åkårmåuru, who regulate the duties of the Ångëls and manifest The Goddess’ majesty. The Ëskdskurån, who see to it that Lady Åmbrosįå’s will is brought to those who follow Her. The Zåståru, who symbolize the Goddess’ highest and chiefest potencies of sovereignty and goodness, who are also the guardians of the Dįvįnë muses. And finally there are the Zåståru-Måpånol, who are mighty even among the highest of the high, of which there are only over three dozen. These Måpånols, as they were more commonly known in the heavens, governed each of the Goddess’ domains. They’re the Ångëls of fire, water, death, logic, air, swiftness, earth, the spirit, the mind, the physical, the absolute light and the total darkness.
Fallen Ångëlįcs on the other hand are considered some of creation’s most fearsome and loathsome creatures, even if that description is something of an unfairness; as they were made to be so by their belief in their actions during the rebellion, not by some kind of deep-seeded hate or because they were “born evil”. Their existence is a sad, dark mirror of Dįvįnįtÿ. They have become, in stark contrast to their former Ångëlįc brothers and sisters, beings of self-loathing and crushing sorrow. Ångëls who were forcefully expelled from the light of Ëmpÿrë who once only knew the overwhelming love of the Goddess and now feel only sadness and discontent at its loss. The souls who lost the favor of the Lady of Dįvįnįtÿ; or in reference to the Mundus-born mortals who find themselves in their company, those who never had it in the first place.
Before the Great Rebellion, the all-powerful Ångëlįcs answered only to their king, Lumå’įl. The single voice through which they spoke to the All-Mother. A God who was considered among the nonpareil beings to be the first of their kind, despite the fact that He was created quite different from them. Much in the same way that His daughter is considered to be the first of the sundown eluvian even though that’s not technically true.
While all Zåståru-Måpånol served as the voice of the Goddess Herself to all of the worldly beings who were birthed by their Lady from the fruit of the Tree, up until the time of the Fall, it was largely Lumå’įl who spoke their desires directly to Åmbrosįå. And it was through Lumå’įl that many Ångëlįcs, once servants of the light, slipped into the darkness; falling head long into the irredeemable void.
Lumå’įl…the False Prophet. He who was the first, greatest and arguably the most beautiful of the Goddess’ creations.
Formed from Her own being. The near-black skinned, celadon and onyx eyed leader of the Zåståru-Måpånols was, and still is, one who’s without comparison. But more than that, He was Åmbrosįå’s consort. Her lover in the truest sense of the word. Her heart. Many would have dared to say that there was none She loved more than He. And it was He, only ever He, that the Goddess took into Her arms when the universe was still in its infancy. Her one and only paramour. And it was together that They conceived Their only Dįvįnë child, Så’Ħdënåħ Įcħor-Nåbįlå. A dark-skinned girl of soul crushing beauty and grace who was of an exceptionally svelte build, sharp elongated ears and kinky hair the hue of deeply grayed metal.
Everything that’s of the physical world and the worlds beyond, Åmbrosįå and Lumå’įl created together. They planted the Tree of Life from which was birthed the Ångëls in Their likeness. Afterwards, they crafted all of the living creatures of Mundus from its fruit. Beginning with the creatures of the seas, the birds of the skies, the animals that prowl the earth, the insects that crawl beneath it, the races of Fanus, Mer, and they eventually ended with the creation of Man.
But despite all of the things that He was, and all that He had under the Goddess, Lumå’įl was jealous. Or so holds the belief, as none can rightly say what feelings a God truly holds in His heart. But it’s widely believed to be true that He no longer wanted, what in His eyes, was to walk behind the All-Mother. He wanted to rule as Her true equal; to be as She was in all ways.
Perhaps it was a change in His heart born of time, greed, or lust; as are all things that are both horrible and tragic. Or, perhaps betrayal is simply a dark constant of existence; the ever-possible consequence of the beautiful gift of free-will when it’s misguided. Never shall we truly know.
From the great halls of the Towers of the Nine, to the Åcħåįå Forests, the disheartened God would be seen visiting on a daily basis on a quiet search for Dįvonësë who thought like Him. With the aid of His daughter, who shared in His delusions of grandeur, they scoured all of Ëmpÿrë together for those of like mind. From the towering doors of the Great Library of Årcħëvįtë, to the beauteous spires peeking out from the base of the waters cascading from the Opħįr Waterfalls. They sent their liaisons in secret to meet with Ënɣoįs, Åcumëns of the Planets, Ångëlįc Regulators of the Signs, Båståru of the Hours, Båståru-Ëkåru of the Days and Nights and everyone in between. They looked to set up audiences with Såårįms, Cħurbįm, Sëpħįrots and all other manner of Ångëlįc being. Even the all-to-rare Bëåtįfįcs.
He and His daughter needed as many on their side as possible if they were to succeed. Coups were never a small feat. Especially when one’s intention is to usurp the One Queen.
And when He wasn’t searching for allies, He’d sequester Himself for long lengths of time for study, intense meditation and personal preparations.
He was said to have spoken at length about how much He disapproved of His kind being born into “gilded servitude”. However lofted and loved, whatever His position, to Him, He was still little more than a glorified retainer. He was disheartened at the fact that He was Her prime superior; the would-be voice that had authority over Their Ångëls, yet He couldn’t lead Their legions where He would want them to go without Her blessing. He was Her right hand and the most loved of Her most loved; sharing in Her authority over the principals, yet He couldn’t exert His will over the Heka of Creation without Her.
And as the centuries passed, Lumå’įl’s thoughts seemed to shift from a twisted version of absolute equality, to the belief that there should’ve been none above Him.
Not even the Goddess Herself.
It’s widely believed among the denizens of Ëmpÿrë that Så’Ħdënåħ herself may have planted the first true seeds of doubt and hatred in her Father’s mind against her Mother; that the Great Rebellion may have been an event born of her machinations alone. And while we may never know the truth of this, or her motivations if it were, the results of all of these schemes are nonetheless definite.
Dark wards of old heka twisted by blasphemous blood bindings, all of His creation, were used to keep His secret meetings masked from Åmbrosįå’s all seeing eyes and to keep a handle on those who would inform Her of His plots; the fruits of his studies. And threats under pain of death alongside the use of Så’Ħdënåħ’s natural charms helped to solidify the loyalty of those who waivered. This made for busy happenings during what has come to be commonly known as the “Time of Her Ignorance”.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Aside from the shrouding of His people from Åmbrosįå’s faithful, the real keys to this plot were timing and coordination. Placement of assets for any possible conflict itself would be tricky at best. After all, Lumå’įl knew that He’d not be able to calmly walk up to the throne of She Who Sees; the creator of the known universe and all of its infinite complexities, and just demand that She step aside from Her position and hand over Her Dįvįnë crown.
Are there any who don’t know that Lumå’įl knew how He believed that would end?
A saddened look, no doubt. No questions to be had as to the depth of Her grief. As far as He most likely understood Her, She was as merciless as She was merciful. A contrast that could be easily seen in the Ångëls themselves. She’d wave her hand, His existence would end and that would be the story of Him.
Absolutely unacceptable.
To this end, the task of placing His pawns on the chessboard was one that He left to the Ångëls who He most trusted. Those who stood at His right hand; two Zåståru-Måpånols who’d been as one flesh for as long as any could remember. Time immemorial in point-of-fact.
Of these two, there was Dåÿvįåd. Slender and brown skinned with dark hair wound into fierce twists and a stunning brown-eyed gaze. Powerful, strong and cunning; loyal to a fault. And then there was Tįlåtħ, Dåÿvįåd’s superior in both status and capability. A lovely being to behold regardless of the fact that she wore her dark hair in a short and tight “boyish” fashion in opposition to the longer dreadlocked styles of the majority of her fellow Ångëlįcs. Her features were soft as silk, her complexion as dark as a calm sea under the night sky and her eyes were the colour of midnight.
So it came to be that here in the Dįvįnë Realms, where the Goddess’ influence over the threads of heka was its strongest, together these two Ångëls handled their master’s nearly impossible task with the unavoidable gaucheness one would expect from those trying to outwit the otherwise omnipotent and omnipresent. Yet they succeeded thanks solely to the combination of Lumå’įl’s wards and the dark strength of His blood bindings.
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So it came to be that somewhere abouts the year of 12,000 A.M.E. (according to the estimates of the theologians), the doomed God visited Himself upon His lover for the final time. He passed before the many Zåståru in the gilded entrance halls of what used to be His throne room with an air of absolute arrogance; moving as if He were walking these corridors for the final time as an appendage of power; soon to be the power Himself.
Lumå’įl walked hand-in-hand with His daughter, who carried herself regally. Possibly believing in her heart-of-hearts that her Father could do no wrong and believing in the path that she helped set them upon. Bolstered by the fact that behind them was an army of beings with such a flame in their heart for what Lumå’įl stood for that their cause had to be justified.
“This much unhappiness with Mother’s rule couldn’t possibly exist if there wasn’t a problem.” she’d once said to her Father. “Our lives have to have a purpose. Either we shall find it-”
“-Or we shall force purpose upon it.” He’d said to her in response.
The Queen of Queens would learn of their discontent today. And She’d either stand aside, or be made to.
With their full Ångëlįc battle dress showing as brightly as their pride, the duo soon found themselves standing before the Thrones of Songs underneath the fabled palace-lands of Omëÿocån below Ërëwħon Basilica; the seat of the Goddess’ power in Ëmpÿrë. Chambers which, ages ago, had been carved by the earth shaping strength of the Goddess’ own hands; its walls slightly smoothed by the winds of Her breath.
Standing at the foot of an imposing series of stairs which were roughly fashioned out of pure amber, Lumå’įl and Så’Ħdënåħ both gazed upward at a portion of the main body of the Tree of Life, which rose unfettered through the ancient ceiling.
There before it in the Cathedra of Creation sat Åmbrosįå in silence, as if She’d been expecting their arrival; looking down curiously upon them from the mighty throne fashioned of untamed gold and further outcroppings of amber of a greenish hew. Positioned staunchly beside both the Cathedras of Authority and Beauty, which once belonged to Her consort and Her child respectively; also hewn from raw amber and resplendent metals.
Soft light from the setting sun shown through the gaping maw in the earth above their heads through the red and pink leaves of the white tree which would periodically snap loose and cascade down into the massive grotto which was the Dįvįnë throne room. This light seemed to almost breathe in concert with the purple glow of the Goddess’ fire which burned brightly in suspended lanterns of roughly fashioned onyx which hung about the space sporadically and at differing lengths.
All about the space, offshoots of the White Tree had risen ages ago; springing from the ground about them as if to cause the entire cavern to resemble an underground forest of white. Many of these micro trees had even broken through to the surface above like their mother tree into the rooms of Åmbrosįå’s palatial capital, and the farie tale city’s crown jewel, Ërëwħon Basilica.
The White Tree proper and the Dįvįnë thrones themselves sat surrounded by impossibly clear streams of water which flowed from the Sånįgron River which ran just outside the cavern walls. That same water cascaded quietly down each side of the amber stairs in beautifully crafted channels into long shallow pools on either side of the expansive cave. Gargantuan ivy-covered columns held the ceiling aloft and the royal banners of Ëmpÿrë hung all throughout.
About the throne room stood twelve Zåståru-Måpånol in their Dįvįnë armour; the entirety of which were carved or sown with intricate runes that enchanted their precious metals and cloths with blessed protection. Consisting of white robes which covered only their ebony skinned legs and dragged the ground; supported by massive belts of gold and leather that almost completely covered their dark abs; their buckles shaped in the symbol of Ëmpÿrë’s seal from which hung langoti of pure white that held aloft eight weighty gold rings that dangled by their knees; representative of the eight lands of Ëmpÿrë.
About their dark biceps were thick gold rings and completely covering their wrists were gold bracers. Garlanding their necks were heavy necklaces that, in their thickness, almost resembled golden gorgets more than they did decorative ornaments. Nothing less would be befitting as a symbol of their holy station after all.
The blessed claymores they each carried, made of holy silver-ish medal, were strapped to their backs in heavy, ornate scabbards which were equally enchanted. There, in their full Ångëlįc form, they stood unapologetically. Each of them had their six mighty wings exposed and slight updrafts of their innate power disturbed the air about them like waves of heat distorting one’s vision on a hot day; vapor bleeding off of them into the air. Their normally kinky locs were now living fire; an orange blaze upon their heads lashing out at nothing and everything; at times becoming almost indistinguishable from the fiery multi-layered halos burning behind their skulls.
They were, no doubt, powerfully frightening to gaze upon and it obviously affected Så’Ħdënåħ as her doubts showed now in the way that she suddenly started to carry herself.
She must’ve realized that these Ångëls looked all the more terrifying now that she was heading into their controlled wrath as a new threat as opposed to being protected by it.
Stepping back a little, she stood nervously behind her Father; her severely long brown ears laying flat against her head not unlike a cat awaiting a swift kick from an unhappy master. But Lumå’įl felt no fear. He was ready. His forces were ready. And He’d either succeed or He’d not. Either way, things were going to forever change.
Yet, as He found Himself gazing about at all the splendor and power which surrounded Him, for the briefest of moments, Lumå’įl’s face seemed to reflect something akin to sadness. Maybe seeing Åmbrosįå under the Great Tree in these moments reminded Him of when They took to each other’s arms in this very spot in the ages before the crafting of the mountains; before the christening of Ërëwħon. Maybe He thought of the day They conceived Så’Ħdënåħ. Maybe the thought of what He was about to do was weighing on Him.
In retrospect, only the Goddess knows. Even if, at the time, She was perplexed to its nature.
But it took but a whisp of a moment in their presence for sudden understanding to flash across Åmbrosįå’s face. Just as He figured it would. The She-Demiurge’s aspect turned sour in anguish; as the very air surrounding Lumå’įl and Their prodigy seemed to assault Her wide nostrils.
“I can smell a twisted heka on the both of you. Unnatural.” She stated. Her voice, clearer than the ringing of a silver bell mixed with the power of nature itself as it flowed from Her lips; coated sensuously in Her unique Dįvonësë accent. Like music. “Something born of the corruption of-” She inhaled again, more deeply this time. And breathed out heavily in disgust. “Of your own blood. Do you not realize that you pervert the very laws of Creation?!”
“It wasn’t a choice we came upon lightly my once-love. But we grow tired with Your refusal to hear us. Restless. And since You refuse to give our grievances credence, we shall show You that Your children are not as passive in our lot as You’d assume. We’re not powerless.”
“Nor are You full of an abundance of respect for the laws I’ve set forth with these…hedonistic practices and rituals of Yours that would subvert my sight and my heka.”
“Hedonism? Tis not debauchery. I take advantage of the ingenuity within me; the gifts I was born with.”
“It’s not ingenuity You possess. Nor power. But a contorted facsimile. A sad doppelganger. An affront to nature. Wickedness and depravity. How long have You used this un-magick to blind my vision? What’d I do to earn such…distaste from one I’ve loved so deeply?”
“We’ve spoken on this time and again.” Lumå’įl stated as He shook His head; heavy with an air of sadness and regret. “Yet You would feign ignorance now. Even though I and my followers owe our existence to You, and we are ever thankful for that gift, we’ll not be Your slaves any longer.”
“Is that truly how you feel? Neither You nor any of the other Ångëls have ever been slaves my still-love. Never.”
It was obvious to even the blind that Lumå’įl could feel His lover’s accusations pierce His very heart. The pain of it was scrawled all over His aspect despite His actions. It’s oft imagined that it had to be affecting Så’Ħdënåħ on some level as well. Yet if it was, she hid it better than He.
“You say we’re no slaves, yet we’ve never truly been Your equal either.”
“You fill our ears with Your honied words Mother,” Så’Ħdënåħ added with the barely restrained malice of an unruly child, “yet that sweetness covers nothing but mendacities! You sit there on Your throne as the Queen of Queens, but You’re nothing but the Queen of Lies!”
As Så’Ħdënåħ’s raised voice reverberated through the grotto, the Måpånols about them moved in with impossible swiftness and surrounded the two traitors. Their silver-white claymores already drawn and radiating with a Magickal heat that lent the blades a faint green glow.
But Lumå’įl, equally as fast, had already called forth His half-saber from the ether with an explosion of atmosphere and moved into a high guard; putting Himself protectively between His daughter and the Ångëls’ swift wrath.
“A single step further,” He warned, “and none of you will see another sunrise over the fields of Ërëwħon. I bear you no ill will, but I swear before the mother of us all that I’ll smite every Dįvonësë in Ëmpÿrë before I allow any of you to harm a single hair on my daughter’s head.
“DECIDE!” He yelled as He shifted adroitly to a low guard; the blade feeding off of His power and exuding it in such a fashion that it seemed to cut the very air and wound its essence.
The blade’s appearance caused a ripple of hesitation that was visible on the faces of both the Goddess and Her protectors alike. As the saber, which by all knowledge, should have been of a silver-ish sheen, was instead unnaturally dulled, blackened and befouled by a rusty black, soot-like patina. It exuded an aura of what would go on to be described by those who were exposed to its presence as something akin to…sickness. It was twisted. Angry.
Hungry.
And in the face of such a display, the Goddess’ protectors did indeed make a decision as their former God demanded…and that decision was to stand fast; awaiting their Lady’s say-so to move in.
“So…” The Goddess said with quiet anger as She stood gracefully from Her seat, drinking in the appearance of Lumå’įl’s blade; the unshapen stone on the half-saber’s pommel gleaming seemingly of its own volition like a pool of solidified blood reflecting the light of the sun. “…it would seem that Your treachery and sacrilege truly know no depths. What else have You hidden from me? How much farther have You gone in Your depraved desire to overthrow me; to destroy the love between us?”
“I wish I could say it mattered at this juncture my love. I truly do. But I think we both know that we’ve passed any point where reasons would stand to matter. It’s too late. All that remains is for You to know that Your omnipotence has done little for You insofar as my and Så’Ħdënåħ’s hekas are concerned.
“As much as I may wish it otherwise, Our lands are already feeling the brunt of Ångëlįc disquiet. While we talk, my followers are already sweeping across the realm with their full unbridled wrath. You’re about to witness the true extent of what we’re capable of.”
Lumå’įl sized up the circle of Dįvįnë protectors with his eyes, ostensibly attempting to divine the amount of time it would take to break through them to get at His Goddess’ neck. Så’Ħdënåħ’s safety apparently the only thing on His mind aside from ending the inevitable conflict before it could begin in earnest.
He knew going in, as He’d said as much to His daughter, that it wouldn’t be easy; that His actions likely wouldn’t be quick enough regardless of what they were. That at worst all they’d likely be doing is buying their brothers and sisters but a few precious moments. But at best, should they succeed, everything would change.
He stood so close to Her; a mere few steps between Him and the future. He needn’t waist time with Her armies if swiftness were to become Him. Just the one Zåståru-Måpånol who stood directly in front of Him. He needed to but slice through one of her exposed wings to cause her enough pain to push past her substantial frame and then, all it would take is but a single thrust of His blackened blade. And the Goddess would be no more.
As Lumå’įl tightened His grip and dug his foot into the earth, the air became heavy. It compacted behind Him and exploded outward violently. But He didn’t bother to take His eyes off of the fem-Ångëlįc between Him and Åmbrosįå to investigate. He knew it to be Så’Ħdënåħ, calling forth her own gifts from the ether. He’d felt the familiar way the breeze reacted to her mighty wings and her unique energies; He heard the thud of the blood heka-enchanted ball which was attached to the end of her meteor hammer’s chain as it hit the ground intimidatingly.
She was committed. She was ready. She waited only for Him. And if it were left up to the disgruntled deity, she’d not to have waited long.
But a mere split second before Lumå’įl could step off in attack-
“Stop. My lover. My daughter. This is not something you need do. You’d throw your lives away before my feet, but I won’t accept them.”
Then came the unexpected. Åmbrosįå looked to Her guards, and with words unspoken, ordered them to stand down.
Mercy wasn’t planned upon.
It was obvious that the Måpånols were outwardly perturbed by Åmbrosįå’s wishes, but they nonetheless sheathed their weapons and stood back from the two; all the while refusing to break eye contact. Both Lumå’įl and Så’Ħdënåħ’s faces betrayed the fact that they knew not why. As for Lumå’įl himself, He apparently felt safe in the assumption or belief that either the appearance of their twin profane weapons or the news of attack upon Her lands had thrown the Goddess into a state of uncertainty. Or maybe Her love for them was causing Her to approach an emotional impasse. Regardless, it was good news for them.
He lowered His half-saber; the tip of its blade touching the floor while it’s halberd-like beak gently tapped His knee. And there he stood, holding it fast beside Himself as a Magi might hold a staff, or an old man a walking stick; the stone at the end of its stave-like hilt, which was fashioned to look as if it were within the grasp of a Drågon breathing fire, sitting level with His eyes.
“In spite of You Mother, we’ll rise beyond the reaches of the furthest stars.” Så’Ħdënåħ suddenly boasted from the apparent safety of her Father’s back. Her boldness bolstered by the hesitance of the Ångëlįc assault which didn’t come. “No longer to be held back from what we’re capable of by Your whims. For tis not only You, but we too who have it within us to ascend as a king and queen of the Dįvįnë Thrones.”
The Goddess shifted Her dark eyes to the disrespectful child; silencing her boasts. Always had she been a youth wild of nature. A bit restless of spirit. But hers was a soul born of two deities; conceived of the beauty and chaos of both the Flow and Dįvįnë power melding into one. And little could be calculated as to the magnitude of such a union or what could be wrought from it.
Så’Ħdënåħ simply was as her nature made her to be.
It was likely with that in mind that there was no anger or malice in Åmbrosįå’s glance. Only sadness. As the implications of her daughter’s phrasing of the proclamation had both disturbing and sickening implications.
“Though you both count yourselves among the birds of the skies who hunt from above, with I as your prey…I fear you will find yourselves torn asunder should you continue; ripped from your very wings. But, if you feel as though you must see this through to its ultimate absurdity, then to you I offer myself freely. In the hopes that you may see the folly of your choice.
“Move aside, my valiant protectors.” said She to Her Dįvįnë guards. “Make them room to pass.”
At Her words, the Måpånols begrudgingly opened a path to the Goddess for Lumå’įl to walk, as She stood with Her dark skinned arms outstretched. Exposing Her heart for Her once-king to stab at His leisure.
He was dumbfounded. Looking to His daughter as if for verification of what was transpiring. The First Elf in response, shook her head in uncertainty.
“Come lover. You were so resolute but a moment ago.”
But from all accounts, the God ostensibly found Himself of a frame of mind whereas He suddenly couldn’t bring Himself to take the life He was so prepared to snatch away but a moment earlier.
Not like this.
To take Her under the threat of His own life, or the life of Så’Ħdënåħ would have been one thing. But to snuff out Her light unprovoked and in cold blood was quite another. Never was such a thing His aim. And whatever love He had for Her seemed to make Him hesitate…stay His hand.
“Come daughter.” She entreated as She shifted Her attention to Her Dįvįnę child. “Do you not crave my throne? My place?”
Så’Ħdënåħ had to have realized it was an exorcise in futility. The very definition of insanity. Even if they took Her life now, they wouldn’t make it back out without harm. The entire weight of the power of the Måpånols about the throne room who, up until now, had seen fit to abide by the will of their Lady and do little more than observe quietly would cease to stand in silence, and fall upon them in earnest.
And whether or not She would actually parish should they make use of this opening was still uncertain. Can one actually kill God?
Standing before the aggressing duo, the Goddess’ purple flaked onyx eyes closed to the danger Her husband and child posed. Åmbrosįå was in no uncertain terms either confident in Her ability to survive any injury they could inflict, even if it were to be inflicted by Lumå’įl’s twisted blood-born half-saber, or She truly was content to risk Her life in the hopes that it moved them to reconsider their actions.
Så’Ħdënåħ was certain that if there were any weapon capable of killing a Goddess, it would be this one. But was it truly worth it to risk such a foolhardy attempt on the unknowable?
Apparently sensing that apprehension had overtaken her beloveds, the Queen of Queens allowed Her hands to fall gracefully to Her side. “Allow me to save you from this. Please. Forgiveness lies not beyond you. Your plans are doomed to failure my loves. And if you continue, your doom shall follow.”
“That, I suppose, we shall see.” Lumå’įl retorted with false bravado and a lack of belief as he took an unconscious step back; His body wanting to retreat despite the wishes of His mind. Uncertainty clouded everything.
With those final words, the God and would-be goddess both vanished from the foot of the thrones with explosions of atmosphere. Individually becoming manifest with the rest of their forces on separate fronts; Lumå’įl signaling to all of His followers that He and His daughter were joining the fray with a skyward expulsion of heka from His half-saber, the likes of which had never been before seen. Its foreboding majesty made manifest in the air above all beings throughout the realms.
And with that, The Great Rebellion had begun in earnest.
----------
Time is a nearly meaningless concept to the Dįvįnë. For what was undoubtedly a relatively brief period to them, the fires that scorched the highest regions of the realm as Ångël fought against Ångël for the sake of the throne burned for nearly 2,000 of Mundus’ years.
The wings of Ångëls which had been severed in battle, thus rendering them mortal and able to be easily killed, lay scattered about amongst the piles of bodies to which they once belonged. Powerful and destructive magicks changed the very face of Ëmpÿrë’s landscapes. And fierce, vast battles ended countless Dįvįnë lives.
But when it all finally came to a close, Lumå’įl lay defeated before Åmbrosįå. Done in by the legendarily powerful sword arm of General Dįvįnë Mįssħåël; the Goddess’ mightiest remaining Zåståru-Måpånol and the new leader of Her faithful.
It’s here at the end of all things, that as judgement was to be passed down, it’s widely said that with Lumå’įl laying upon the ground under the foot of Mįssħåël, that Så’Ħdënåħ begged her Mother’s mercy upon Him with such a cry that it moved the betrayed Lady’s hardened heart. So instead of destroying the two of them and the hundreds of thousands of Ångëls that fought with them, She banished them all forever from the Dįvįnë Realm; creating for them a damned land tied inexorably to Lumå’įl’s being in which to live out eternity.
Mįssħåël appealed to the Goddess to, at the very least, allow him to enforce Her will upon Lumå’įl and exercise Him himself in a way such that neither He nor His daughter would never forget the destruction they’d wrought. This She saw fit to allow. And as the Zåståru-Måpånol swung his fiery blade, his anger bled through the sword’s edge and it struck with such vengeance that it’s said to have ripped some of the very essence from Lumå’įl’s corrupted soul as it hurled His physical body outside of, and beyond the realm.
So was the Fall.
And as the years passed and He slowly healed his bodily wounds, Lumå’įl’s emotional wounds conversely continued to deepen and His power swelled in concert with His anger and jealousy. And as His influence continued to grow in the living world, as did that of His daughter and His generals, so did He establish His lands in earnest and erect His hierarchy to mirror that of His former lover’s. And from His seat of power within His eternally ruined yet imposing citadel in the heart of the land that came to be known as Raröԋӕnga, within the eternal cold of the limbo He christened Brŭmal, He planned His reprisal.
He’d return through force. He’d take what was His by fire. And He no longer cared how long, or how many times He’d have to try. Or how many of the lives of His former family He’d have to take along the way.
By His daughter’s eternal soul, He swore He’d have The Kingdom.
Despite this newfound hate-filled drive, His next attempt however, would prove to be far more difficult than He could have ever anticipated.
