7X519C | 519th Cycle of the Seventh Age

A young woman ran like the wind through the dark trees of Neverend. She was a faint blur in the night, with tears running down her cheeks, and her long white dress was ripped and tattered. Strung over one shoulder was a carved wooden bow, and on her back she wore a large leather rucksack, carefully padded with blankets, for it held two infants within.

Fear grew in her heart as weariness sank in. In all her life, she had never felt death upon her as it was now, and the true terror of it was devouring her hope. Doubt hacked at her like a lunatic with a cleaver, yet each moment she felt she could handle no more, the cries of her two infants revived her courage, and she did not give up.

"You will live, my children. This I promise you." Her words were a whisper left amongst the trees. The rain was beating like the pounding of her heart, but she could not feel it. She could no longer hear the sound of her bare feet slapping icy puddles. The cries of the soldiers pursuing her seemed to fade away with each passing step. She knew she would soon reach the Edge.

She knew in her heart that it was there that Death would finally find her.

"We thought we could change it, yet—" As she spoke, her voice drifted into the dark, where it would keep her words forever; the last and only remnants that would be kept by Éién itself. This was the realm of Soria, after all.

Droplets of water ran down her face, and she could no longer tell if it were the rain or her tears. She thought of the children's father, then glanced at a red bandana wrapped around her wrist. As she did, her foot caught one of the snake-like roots hidden in the dark, and down she went.

Twisting on pure instinct and turning her babies to her chest, she felt her back slam into one of the exposed roots. Pain wailed through her, though the anguish of her waning body was like her cry within the storm; existent, but imperceivable before the might of it all.

Despite the ever-approaching soldiers and the whisper of death in her ear, she faintly smiled as her gaze found the eyes of her two baby boys. Pushing away both the fear and the doubt, she stood up and refastened the rucksack to her back. A fire unlike any other fueled her that night — the love of a mother.

Willing herself one leaden foot at a time, she ran on, pushing the limits of her own impossibility. But the toll was there, and slowly, she was losing strength. Her body was painted in cuts and bruises. She could smell her own blood, the loss of it sapping her consciousness.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and wither away. She wanted to give up. A thousand despairing thoughts ran through her in every moment, yet she did not stop. Which was the right way to go? Maybe there wasn't one. Had there ever been? Was it her choices that had brought her here, or the fated pressure of a world too cruel?

Beneath it all, there was really one true thing left: there was only the fear of watching her own children murdered before her eyes. So, she pressed on, despite it all, further and further into the darkness of the forest.

Finally breaking free of the trees, she ran out beneath the light of two moons. She slipped as the ground changed from dirt to wet, smooth stone, and cried out in pain as one of the rocks slit open the bottom of her foot to the bone. Tumbling to the ground, she looked up to find herself upon a high precipice, looking out at blank, black skies, as far as the eyes could see.

Standing slowly, she found herself at a cliff's edge, yet not just any cliff. It was the end of their world; the furthest place in existence from civilization, known only as the Edge. There was nothing beyond it, and nothing below it. Only dark, starless sky. The cold wind of night felt like death's soft touch upon her cheek.

High above, the clouds parted, and the rain grew calm. She had known from the beginning how her story would end. Pulling the sack carefully off her back, she placed it on the ground, then did the same with her wooden bow, which she held for a brief moment in her hands, before setting it down, respectfully.

Despite her exhaustion, she could not help but feel love as she looked at her sons. They were the very essence of all that made life beautiful. One of the boys was calmly smiling, his eyes shining beneath the night sky. She ran her fingers through his soft silver hair, and took in the sight of his eyes, a startling blue that reminded her of summer skies and better times.

"Caim," she said, and the name itself gave her courage. She rested her hand on his cheek, then pulled two silver chains out of her pocket. With still, yet bloodied hands, she fastened one chain around his neck. "In the old language," she whispered. "Your name means protector. And the gods know this world needs one," she grasped his little finger as her tears fell. "Be brave, my son. And always look out for your brother, as his spirit will likely be as wild as your mother's."

Beside him his brother started crying, his eyes and hands balled up tight, as he could sense his mother's suffering. His hair, dark as a moonless night, was the same color as hers. A drip of blood fell from his mother's face and onto the boy's cheek, and he opened his eyes; they were sharp and strong, fiercely green with a tint of gold.

"Storm," she spoke, and she could feel the fortitude of his spirit. She took the other chain and fastened it around his neck, then ran her fingers over the engraving. A moment passed in silence.

"A memento from your father," she whispered. "Whom just so you know, loved you both more than anything. Remember, little one, that in order to bring change to a world of suffering, the winds must first turn, and when they do, a mighty storm will always follow. You, my son, are that very storm." She raised her hands to the raining skies, gesturing to all around her.

"A remnant of the great storm sworn, a true force of Éién, that you are. Both of you were born on a day as tragic as it is beautiful. Your love for one another, and your spirit, will give you the potential to do anything you can imagine, perhaps even bring forth the greatest change this world has ever known, if you so wish. But remember, you mustn't give in to fate, no matter how enticing its shape. No matter what, you must always follow your hearts."

She was quiet for a moment, remembering a life long since passed.

"When I met your father, I knew what would happen, yet I loved him all the same." A tear traced down her cheek. "I made my choices, and I don't regret them. I see that now. In this world, good comes from bad as often as bad comes from good. We can only follow our hearts, or be swept away by the fear of it all." She smiled proudly, taking them both in her eyes. Caim's hand touched her own, and she felt in him everything she truly loved in the world. He smiled.

"This is the very strength you must never let go of. To smile, even in the dark." She took both of their little hands and kissed them gently, feeling the tears flowing, and there was nothing but love in her heart. No one knows how long this moment lasted for her, but it has been spoken that just before one dies, time slows.

The young woman took to silent awe as the world around her changed. She watched the falling rain around her slow to a crawl, as if commanded by the hand of Time herself, and she knew the gods were with her.

"Caim . . . Storm . . ." They both looked up at her as though she were the stars themselves.

"I know we haven't been with each other very long, but the small time we did have I cherish more than anything. I know that I've put you through a lot already, but I want each of you to promise me something, so please, listen to the last words of your mother." She wiped her eyes, trying to hold back the tears.

"If there is one thing I could wish for in life, it would be to watch you two grow. I won't be able to be there when you speak your first word, hold your first sword, or make your first friend. Throughout your life, you will have to make many mistakes in order to learn, and sometimes this will be difficult and frustrating. But always remember that the clever can often learn from the mistakes of others, so travel with a keen eye, as your father always says."

"Make sure you eat lots and lots of food, because if you are anything like him, you'll be needing your energy. Always remember that it is the simple things in life we must cherish. Don't forget to get as much sleep as you can, even when you're having fun . . . I know you two will be needing it. Lastly, don't be afraid to make friends, good ones, no matter where they come from, even if it's just a few that will look out for you, as you look out for them."

She wiped her bloody fingers on her dress before softly poking Storm in the stomach. She could feel his strength as he grabbed the tip of her finger. Turning to Caim, she pinched him gently on the nose and watched him smile. One of the slow falling raindrops landed on his cheek, and he laughed like only a child could. She smiled lovingly, before noticing Storm looking up at her, his eyes strangely questioning. There was a subtle wisdom in his look, as if he understood more than meets the eye.

"You seem to be in question, my little Storm," she said, letting out a coy grin. "It is a wonderful gift to have, you know, an inquisitive nature. Especially in a world that is not what it seems. It will do you well in your days to come."

"And as for your brother . . ." She saw Caim's eyes following a little black moth as it flew beneath the moons, before it touched down gently upon his nose.

"Your brother has his own gifts," she said, then took each of their tiny hands in her own.

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"Although these words may aid you but little now, as they are nothing more than a mother's last kiss, know that, perchance, at a different time, and in a different place, my voice may be but a light for you in the dark. So, hear this, my sons. Fate and destiny have always been sworn and everlasting enemies, and in every choice made, one prevails over the other. Remember that to resist one's fate is to find the strength to follow one's destiny. And to follow one's destiny is the courage to trust your inner voice, to listen to that which cannot be heard, only felt. Never close your hearts to it, as others have, or I fear all will be lost. Remember this, above all, my boys."

The little black moth was still resting on Caim's nose, who was smiling despite. Reaching down, she let the moth crawl onto her finger as she heard rustling from the forest. The sounds told her the soldiers were nearing. She could feel their movements in the earth she knelt upon. But more than anything, she could sense the vengeful presence that was leading them towards her. The moth flew from her finger as she turned to look through an opening in the trees, staring past them and into the dark, watching and waiting for what was to come.

***

A dozen soldiers with bows on their backs moved swiftly through the rain and the dark. Creatures tucked away into their little holes as they swept past. The soldiers weren't trying to move quietly, or in any way mask their presence. Their pitch-black armor caught the light of the moons, and a single flash of lightning illuminated their faces. They were all young women. Strong, silent, and fueled by one binding purpose.

One of the soldiers came to a stop, her eyes entranced by something. She reached out, holding up her palm as a leaf floated down from a tree. The more she stared at the falling leaf, the more she could not understand what was happening. It was falling completely in slow motion; it's subtle shifting sway slowed to the speed of a crawl, and it took nearly two full breaths to fall only a few inches and land on her palm.

A hand fell on her shoulder, awakening her from the trance. She turned to face their leader, a stoic woman with long starlit hair and a single black eyepatch over her left eye. She was the only one without a bow. A dark longsword hung from her hip.

"Come, Arya," said the leader in a soft but commanding tone. "Fate calls us."

"Lady Scylla, something else is here with the girl," whispered Arya. She looked up at the sky, then at the forest surrounding them. The other soldiers had all come to a stop as well, each of their eyes captured by the slowly falling leaves around them. Even the rain had become nearly still.

"Whether there is something here with her or not," said Scylla, who turned and faced the darkness. "She will still die. The Great Laws of Soria are absolute. And we have sworn an oath to uphold them. No matter the enemy, no matter the force, the justice of Soria will never falter."

It wasn't long before the soldiers emerged from the last lining of trees and onto the cold, sharp rocks of the Edge. The rain returned to normal, and an icy breeze swept past their faces as they encountered the one they had been hunting. Each of them pulled their bows off their shoulders and notched their arrows, staring down the sights at their one helpless mark.

A shift in the clouds cast a single ray of moonlight down upon the cliff, illuminating a young woman with her hands clasped together in prayer, and her two sons, who looked longingly into the light as if it were the embrace of their own mother. The clouds passed, the light faded, and the shadows of the present were all that remained.

"Young Rose." Scylla's voice snapped open the girl's eyes.

The leader of the soldiers rested her hand on the pommel of her longsword and continued. "You are hereby accused of treason for willingly and knowingly breaking the Law of Blood. You have betrayed the people of Soria, and brought nothing but shame upon yourself. You will have no trial, and have been sentenced to a hasty execution."

Rose unclasped her hands, her back still to the soldiers. The wind lifted her long hair out behind her. She cast one last look up at the stars and moons, then whispered something inaudible.

"You pray meaninglessly," the voice of Scylla teased. "And know full well that after your death, the two half-bloods will be killed as well. There will be no pardon. There will be no trial. They will not exist, as they should have never existed in the first place."

"You will not lay a finger on them!" Rose's voice was sharp as it cut the air like a whip. She could hear the bowstrings tense within the hands of the soldiers.

Scylla laughed. "She is but a curseborn girl, yet you flinch upon hearing her voice? My soldiers, whatever will I do with you? She is nothing but prey for the hunt. Nothing more."

Rose could hear the amusement in her tone. It was the voice of someone who enjoyed the torment of others. Turning around to face them, Rose's eyes radiated her steadfast will. Before her stood a dozen soldiers, poised to kill. Out in front of them all stood the lady in command. She wore elegant black armor that was smeared with blood.

"Lady Scylla," Rose said, taking a deep breath as she took in the sight of their world's most famous heroine. "I suppose I should be honored, but I just can't help but feel otherwise. It's a shame. I had always looked up to you."

Scylla let a grin curl her lips. "Honored? I am but a soldier, and you are naught but a traitor. I am here to make sure that you are the last person to ever break one of the Great Laws of our world. You have twelve arrows aimed at your heart, young Rose. You deserve to die. If you didn't, then why would you be begging the gods for their mercy?"

The moonlight shifted, revealing a smear of blood through Scylla's hair.

"Don't lie to yourself," Rose said through clenched teeth. "You loved him. This is personal."

Scylla met Rose's gaze with a look of deep disdain. "You know not of what you speak."

"He told me about you, once," Rose said, finding her resolve. "But you've killed him . . . haven't you?"

There was a fragileness in Rose's heart that echoed into her voice, and with each word spoken, she felt herself stepping out further onto a barely frozen lake, each movement cracking and shifting the ice beneath her.

"It is you who killed him," Scylla said dryly. "Though I may have his blood on my hands, it is you who led him to the executioner. You should have left him alone. You should have known your place."

Rose's face remained calm. "Your perspectives are an illusion that conveniently hide who you truly are from those around you, yet most unfortunately, from yourself. Always a wonder to find the most intelligent, the most ignorant."

"And what would a curseborn girl know of intelligence and perspective, I wonder?"

"Intelligence is being humble enough to learn from anyone or anything."

One of the soldiers snickered, but Rose held her ground. "And perspective is a reflection of what we are," Rose caught Scylla's eye. "But not always what makes us who we are. It's a shame there are many in this world who would believe otherwise, and in doing so, let their minds create illusions that paint themselves virtuous, like yourself."

"I wonder what kind of perspective makes someone a traitor to their own people," Scylla answered plainly. "It must have been your intention then, too, that coerced and poisoned his better judgement."

"You know better than anyone that there is no one in the world who could have told him what to do, who could have manipulated him. Look at how you failed, if you need any proof. I only loved him, and I will never feel remorse because of that."

"Ah, the lies we tell," said Scylla with a condescending grin. "Yes. It was his choice. He chose to betray his country. He chose to walk the path of revolution where only one possible fate awaited. But never forget that there are two types of people in this world, my dear Rose. There are those to whom fate smiles, and there are those to whom fate condemns."

"And there are those who are not afraid to follow their hearts," Rose said, looking down at her sons. "Destiny will see to it that they will walk a different path. I leave this world knowing that you cannot harm them. The light of Vale has shined upon them. It is now beyond you."

Scylla laughed. "Is it now? Is it not the Lady Vale herself who condones each and every Great Law? You are delusional from loss of blood and fear of death. Do you think they will survive this night and escape the judgement of Soria unscathed? Their fate will be the same as yours, and their deaths will be painful, that I promise. I will make sure you watch those half-bloods die, so you can exist soullessly in an eternity of regret as your penance. That, curseborn girl, is the only thing you will leave this world with."

"I'm afraid you're wrong," Rose said, lifting her bow from the ground. "They are the first of their kind. They have the spirit of the old and the blood of the new. It is they who will restore this world to its former glory. It is their chosen path. The tip of your sharpest spear is dull before the might of their hearts. I have seen it."

"It is clear you see nothing but delusions."

"Fear not, my children," said Rose, hearing the two boys begin to cry. "We do not give up in this family. It just isn't in our blood. No matter what dangers lie ahead. Hope is like the sun; one can close their eyes to it, but that doesn't mean that it isn't still there burning, so embrace it with all—"

"Enough," Scylla snapped. "This ends now."

Rose gave her sons one last smile before picking up her bow, then reaching up to her hair and pulling out a long black strand. Focusing her thoughts, little crystals of energy and light materialized down her forearm and over her hand. That energy twisted over the single black hair, transforming it into a sleek black arrow.

Rose notched the arrow to her bow and pointed it straight at Scylla. "You may be stronger than me in every single way. You may have me outnumbered and completely outclassed. But you underestimate the strength of my will. It is a strength you will never understand. Unconditional love is the most powerful force there is. It has the power to sway gods, manifest destiny, and never die. It is because of this love that you have no power to harm our sons."

As Rose was speaking, she noticed the cracking of the cliff's edge around her feet, and knew that her time was nearly at an end.

"Farewell, my sons, and know this . . . Your father and I will always love you!"

Rose's love manifested itself in the form of energy, blossoming forth from her body. Several of the soldiers' eyes widened at the sight. The aura of Rose's resolve lifted up and around her, guarding her, until it flowed off her shoulders like a cloak of light and flame.

The cracking of the cliff ran out and around Rose's feet to the other side. She could feel the ground beneath her becoming unstable, but she remained still, focused and ready. She met Scylla's eye and held it.

"Remember this, Scylla," said Rose. "You did not end my life. I chose to be here."

"Foolish to the bitter end," said Scylla. "Kill her."

Rose's arrow shot forth like a spear of flame, shooting straight through the twelve arrows fired upon her. Upon firing, she turned and lifted her arms out, protecting her sons as arrows sunk into her one after another.

Rose felt the edge of the cliff lose stability as the crack grew deeper, and she knew the time had come. The boys looked up at her, their eyes blank and unsure. She felt her body collapsing, her once beautiful white dress, forever stained bloodred. But she did not stop smiling. Despite every doubt telling her that all hope had been lost, she did not give in. She refused to believe that it would end here. Her vision blurred as hope became the only thing remaining.

The voices of the soldiers were fading. Even with her eyes closing, she could see her son's little hands, reaching out for her. And just before she opened her mouth to say their names one last time, the tip of the cliff collapsed, and the three of them fell deep into the night.

Lady Scylla walked to the edge of the cliff, looking down from their floating nation in the sky. Along her cheek was a deep, blood-trickling gash, an unforgettable memento from the one person she most wanted to forget. Her simple eyepatch had been ripped off by the arrow, revealing her hidden eye, black-rimmed and ghostlike, with a pale light in the iris that glowed like flames burning at the end of a dim corridor.

She gazed into the dark for a long while. The fall would be long and agonizing, perhaps even endless. No one knew what rested beneath the lands of Soria. To them, it was only darkness, and always would be.