In a time before time, winged Feriluce lived in the Heavens far above the chaos of the newly-formed earth.
Their work was to watch the world and teach its denizens the art of magic, and alchemy, and agriculture, and more, and instill the Supreme Being’s order upon all the land.
Among these Feriluce was Elior, the Feriluce of Prophecy and Divination. He was among the most powerful of the Feriluce with the ability to see the course of Fate and Time itself.
Elior descended unto the earth and stayed with mankind for five centuries, merely a blink of his eye. On their 499th year on earth, he met a woman—a seer, whose name is now lost to time.
Elior was teaching at the Temple of the Feriluce, a shining structure built by the winged beings themselves to act as their portal in between their world and ours, as well as a temple of learning and worship. Here he sat with would-be seers and diviners, and whispered in hushed voices the secrets of fate itself, only a mere fraction of which the mortals understood. Some say that the rest of Elior’s sermons have been lost forever to time—and yet some say that at least one person had inscribed his lessons on a tablet, now lost somewhere in the depths of the ocean. This, too, Elior foresaw.
But on that day Elior saw his Seeress, it was as if Time itself had paused its inexorable march. He saw her.
She was not, as she was, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. There had been far more beautiful mortals, more beautifully crafted things of flesh and bone. But there was a spark in her eye—a spark that they had not seen in many of her kind. It was the spark of creation, of power, of magic, of perhaps the Supreme Being itself.
After Elior’s sermon was over, they sought her in the temple, and there she was, waiting for him, as if she knew.
“Who are you?” he asked, in the manner of a being used to getting answers.
She told them her name and they said, “No. Who are you?”
She told them his story. That her parents had been killed in battle, and that conquerors had taken her to be sold in the market of bodies. That she found a trade here, as a storyteller and a companion for lonely travelers. And that here she found other gifts: the gift of sight, which some kind soul had told her she could hone with him.
Elior touched her hands, which were scarred and rough with work, with the horrors of the years. They said to the Seeress, “Stay with me. I will teach you all I know.”
She became Elior’s priestess, and they fell in love. They pledged their eternal love to the mortal woman, and fashioned rings that symbolized their vow.
Just as Elior slipped the ring onto his Priestess’ finger, a thundercrack shook the earth, and a silver arrow shot from the heavens onto the ground at Elior’s feet. It radiated heat, seethed silver smoke as if it were fury itself.
The voice of the Arch-Feriluce Bethuel was quiet, but it made Elior’s heart quake with fear. “You are summoned, Elior, to the Court of Heaven.”
“I’m not going back.”
“Elior?” The Priestess’ brow was heavy with worry. “What’s the matter?”
Bethuel would not be disobeyed. “The Supreme Being commands it. The Supreme Being commands you.”
Before Elior could open his mouth to resist once more, another crack of lightning tore through the sky, bathing the world in a light ten times brighter than the sun for just a moment.
Blinded, the Priestess shielded her eyes. And when she opened them again, Elior was gone.
Above, Elior found himself wrapped in chains, standing in front of the Court of Heaven.
“Elior. Prophet, Diviner, Keeper of Time. You have been charged with the highest treason. With the fraternization of a daughter of Addis. What say you?”
To be continued.
