In the long, long ago, there was only darkness and the void. No light from Sahel, nor from his brothers and sisters. There was only nothing and the once-eternal great silence. Out of the lonely silence grew a single drop of water. This drop grew into a stream, then into the River. Thus, Time was born. Now there was Water, Darkness, and the binding thread that was the River of Time. These elements grew together, ever intertwining, until one day there was Air, the Laughter on the Wind.
- The Birth of the Gesthe, by an unknown author.
The shock took me in a sudden squall of emotion. Surprise, anger, vitriol, and dread flooded through me, as memories once suppressed rose to the fore. This close, even covered by mud and dirt, the familiar beauty of the terrifying goddess from long ago shone through it all.
Before me was the vision of , clad in mortal flesh, and I was taken aback by her terrifying countenance. The divine avatar of Avaria, her armor fashioned from fine, delicate plate, now stained with the blood of her enemies. Yet even in this state, her form was visible through the blacksmith's artistry, the subtle curves and contours of the steel skin accentuating a fierce femininity.
Memories of the past and present superimposed, twisted, and intertwined together, adding to my confusion and stopping my breath. The sibilant voices, now familiar friends, rejected the reality before me. The voices shrieked a denial in my mind. Together, as a dark choir, they told me that this was not truly . This was merely an opportunity to be exploited.
Mental exhaustion fell heavily on my shoulders, as I struggled to silence the internal cacophony.
“Herald, please forgive the sinners their willful ignorance. They have met judgment and paid for their sins with their meager lives,” said the shadow of , the one the armored men had called Cordelia.
At a loss for words, I waited for her to continue, “I humbly offer my name, Cordelia de Aserac, Knight of the Order of the Penitent Heart. All my life, I have waited to be graced with your coming. came to me in a dream, and told me of you when I was but a girl… I have…” she paused, a storm of emotions leaving her bereft of control for a moment, her face red with embarrassment.
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“Forgive me, oh lord, take my life for my impertinence. I am not worthy!” she wailed, in the throes of religious ecstasy. Her face was flush with desire as she clutched at the hem of my dirtied robe.
The initial shock had now left me, and nonplussed as I was, I could see that this was not Avaria. The hair, of a shorter cut and color, the voice that did not command reverence, the aura of humility, and the lack of agelessness around her eyes informed my mind of the stark truth. Before me was a woman who possessed divine beauty, but was mortal, nonetheless.
Eyes glinting with revenge, the men from the caravan, and even some of the women, had started going around and ruthlessly finishing any of our attackers who remained in this world. Unsurprisingly, I heard quite a few of their number mention Larynda with tones of awe, the devastation of the child’s spell clear for all to see. A few of them paused from their grisly work and formed behind me, their presence a comfort and support. In their eyes, I could see that hesitation had found fertile soil, and that they looked unsteady and unsure. Some fingered their weapons or postured threateningly, but I doubted they looked forward to having to kill a woman.
“Relieve her of her weapons and let us bring her to the caravan master. I would have his opinion on the matter,” I commanded in what I hoped was a stern voice.
“I have seen your light, and I know of your truth! Many times has graced me with visions of you. This is her will! I know it to be so. This is how it should be. All I wish is to serve as your sword against the night! How may I show you the depth of my faith?! My belief in you?” the woman wailed, her beauty twisted by sudden sorrow.
With a swiftness that startled us all, she lunged at me, brandishing a long knife and catching me completely off-guard. The guards swiftly unsheathed their weapons, their actions producing a metallic rasp in response. We found ourselves encircled by the glint of sharp steel. She seized my hands with an animalistic strength, fueled by her fervor, pulling them towards her. For a moment I thought she had come to end my life or to take me hostage, but what followed shocked everyone.
Desperate tears were tracking a path down her face and she placed the point of the dagger, a poniard, at her own throat.