“They all left me. You said you would never leave me too. So why are you gone?”
Celeste was alone. She was very much used to the feeling; her entire young life had been punctuated by abandonment and loneliness- but it had never been from her.
Aunt Polara was dead. And there was nothing little Celeste could do to bring her back.
Aunt Polara had always been there, ever since Celeste had first hatched. She had given Celeste her name, she had raised her, she had been the only friend and family the little Caelestiventus ever had.
And now, she was dead, and Celeste was again alone.
She didn’t know how she still had the memory of just after she had hatched, but she could remember what Papa had said. She remembered little but vague shapes and senses from those days: she could only remember the sense of being so small, so surrounded and confounded by the vastness of the world, and how small she felt against it. But she remembered, fully and clearly, the face of her father- and she so vividly remembered his words:
“It’s your fault she’s dead. All this damned waiting, and hoping, and praying, and all we got for it was you.”
She hadn’t known what any of that had meant back then. She didn’t know what it meant to be ‘at fault’ for something yet. She didn’t know what it meant to be ‘damned,’ or how it felt to ‘hope,’ or how that desperate hope could turn into a ‘prayer.’ She knew all of those things now. She knew them far, far too well. And she knew back then that they meant something to Papa, and they must have hurt him a lot; because one day he left her alone, and she never saw him again.
Aunt Polara never used the word ‘abandoned’ to describe her, because it wasn’t a nice word; it was a word that implied she wasn’t wanted, that she had been left behind as little more than refuse. Aunt Polara said that she was wanted, that people did care about her- that she cared about her- that her mama and her papa had loved her and wanted her very much, more than anything else in the whole world.
But it didn’t feel that way. She knew Mama was dead, she knew it was her fault, and she knew Papa had left because of it. She had been abandoned, and she knew that she deserved it.
“Your parents never gave you a name,” Aunt Polara had said when they first met, when Celeste was still such a tiny hatchling. “So I will. I’m going to call you Celeste, because heaven opened to bring you to us, because you were a miracle above all miracles- because it brought you to me, and now we’re together, and I’ll never leave you.”
And she had! Aunt Polara had always been there for her, ever since they met. She raised her like a daughter, like she was her own flesh and blood child. She loved her with every ounce of the love that was in her, as many days as she lived. But she did leave, eventually, just like everyone else before, because she died.
It wasn’t her fault, of course. It had been a disease and there was nothing that Aunt Polara could do but continue loving her little miracle niece with every fiber of love that was in her, until everything in her had been given to the last. Celeste couldn’t blame her; she would never blame her. But the cold, bitter truth was that her dear aunt was gone and she was all alone, all over again. What did she do to deserve that? It had to have been something; Papa said it was her fault Mama was dead, so it must be her fault Aunt Polara was dead too.
“I’m sorry,” Celeste said, to no one but herself and the grave at her feet. The wind howled and rain poured down all around. The storm stifled every sound of her voice, but that was okay. There was no one left to listen. “I know I did something wrong. I know that’s why you had to leave. I know that’s why Mama and Papa had to leave too. I know I can’t bring you back, but I just hope you can forgive me.” There was no response save that recurrent bitter howl. “Please? I don’t want to be alone anymore.” The rain did a good job of obscuring her streaming tears too.
The wind howled again, a little quieter this time. It tickled against her ear ruff. It almost reminded her of a whisper.
What was that?
Again, the howl of the wind. It felt comforting now, somehow. And it reminded her about something! Something the loss of her dear aunt had made her forget: maybe she wasn’t completely alone! She had met a friend the day before, a boy that had come down to visit her village. He lived up in the mountain nearby, with a few friends, and he promised to take her there tomorrow!
But what if I mess up again? What if he leaves too?
Another howl of the wind. Another whisper. A new plan. The wind whispered a promise to her, a way to make sure she would never be alone again.
Aunt Polara wouldn’t have approved. In fact, she had expressly admonished against this. But she was gone and little Celeste was all alone. This time she was going to finally make sure she wouldn’t be left alone, ever again.
There was a tablet hidden in a recess of Aunt Polara’s home, a little conifer and thatch hut. Celeste had tried to read it once, when she was very little and had just learned how to read. Her aunt had stopped her when she tried, strictly charged her never to read it. It was from a long time ago, a time when she had been young and had been tempted into making deals to get the things she wanted. That was from a time long gone and she was a different person now; that part of her was dead. Celeste suspected that Aunt Polara wanted to destroy that tablet, to get rid of it for good, but she never could find the strength to- so instead she hid it away somewhere she thought Celeste would never find it again. Unfortunately for her, Celeste was very good at finding secrets.
Aunt Polara had used the tablet to strike a deal, a long time ago, but she never told Celeste what it was she had wished for, or what she had bargained for to get it. What she had said was that the tablet- and the information there contained- was evil. The one she bargained with was a liar and a monster and he should never, under any circumstances, ever be trusted.
But Aunt Polara never said that her deal hadn’t worked.
And little Celeste was so tired of being alone; so sick and hurt from all the abandonment she had suffered that she was resolute to ensure it would never happen again. She had a friend now and was determined not to lose him too, like she’d lost everyone else. So Celeste would talk to this same deal-maker Aunt Polara had spoken with, and she would make a deal of her own.
The tablet was buried in the rafters of the hut, subsumed beneath dozens of insulating leaves. Celeste flew up to the ceiling and easily wedged her way through the support beams holding the roof up. She swept away the insulation concealing the edge of the tome and pulled it free, not without a serious strain of effort.
The tablet was giant, almost as large as she was, and it was old. Not old in the way that Aunt Polara was old- it was ancient, older than anything she had ever seen. The tablet was not formed from dried, hardened clay like most, but was a slab of rock with words and figures carved into its face. The rock was weathered and cracked, with dozens of fissures spread across its surface. Despite its age and damage, every word looked just as clear and unmarred as the day they had been carved.
Celeste felt a pulse of strange warmth as she brushed her wing over the tome, wiping away the grime and dust. Though she knew how to read just fine, something about these words didn’t look right to her; not wrong as though they weren’t the right letters she was used to reading, but like these letters were warped, as though they had once been proper but had been twisted into improper shapes. If she squinted she could almost make them out, but then when she blinked they reset into becoming strange foreign symbols. As she traced over the contours of the words, she was struck by an electric shock and recoiled her hand.
Something felt wrong about touching this tome, as though something in her mind was desperately trying to repel her from it. Was it what Aunt Polara had said, about it being evil? Was there some vestige of her still lingering in Celeste’s mind, trying to ward her niece from its destructive power and influence?
Maybe she was right, Celeste thought, pulling her wing away. She had warned vehemently against this, and she had never done anything without a good reason!
The rain poured against the roof of the little house. Up in the rafters, so close to the storm outside, little Celeste could make out the subtle notes in another gust of the wind. Another whisper.
But she did leave- everyone always leaves. She must have had a good reason for that too. Again, the wind. I’m the reason. Everyone always leaves because of me. I’ll make him want to leave too. The wind sieged against the house’s walls, rattling the building to its foundation. Celeste’s eyes darted back to that ancient tome, lying cold and still. Maybe it could change that. Maybe I can make him want to stay instead.
She returned to the tablet, tentatively placing the tip of her wing over its face. Again, it burned with a static charge, but this time Celeste didn’t pull away from the jolt. She could feel an electric tingle arc up from her wingtip to her brain- and then the indecipherable symbols on the tablet began to change.
The contours of each word lit up with an ethereal orange glow, outlining every shape and bringing form to them in Celeste’s eyes in ways that she had been unable to comprehend before. The words were not merely words, they were sigils- runes melting away from the confines of language, warping from merely being words signifying images and into the images signified themselves.
She saw figure after figure, image after image, more knowledge pouring into the folds of her little brain than her young mind could hope to comprehend. Her head ached, she felt light, it was all too much for her to bear, everything around her was beginning to melt with the letters- it was too much! She closed her eyes but the ethereal light still blazed, burning even in the darkness behind her eyes.
Stop! It hurts, please stop, it hurts! She cried, at first only in her head, and then aloud- again and again. She couldn’t stand it anymore, the pressure building up in her head pressing down, squeezing so tightly she could barely stand it. The room felt like it was spinning and no matter where she turned, the images burned their way onto the surrounding walls. She collapsed, but the visions never ceased, only burning brighter and growing more intense by the moment!
“Stop! Stop, please!” She begged. It felt as though her little mind was about to burst from the inside! She couldn’t breathe. She could hardly think. “Please!”
In an instant, it did. The weight bearing down on her head lifted and she inhaled, panting and catching her breath. After a few seconds of much-needed recuperation, she finally felt she could open her eyes. When she did, she found that the light was completely gone now. The tablet sat cold and dark exactly where she had left it. If her head wasn’t still reeling from the pressure, Celeste would have been inclined to think it all had just been a vivid dream or potent nightmare.
Still a little dizzy, Celeste rose back to her feet. The better part of her knew better than to go anywhere near that tablet again, to even think about trying to engage with it. There was a reason Aunt Polara had called it evil.
But as the little pterosaur turned her back on the tablet, she felt that recurring sting of lonesome abandonment. She was again struck by the pain of having nothing and no one else to return to. She felt cold, and empty, and dreadfully, dreadfully alone; maybe, she reasoned, it’s better to feel hurt than to feel so alone.
So she turned back to face the dull slate of rock. Curiosity overwhelmed her and she just had to try the tome again. Where was this deal-maker her aunt had spoken of? She reached out the tip of her wing to the tablet again, but stopped herself a few inches away.
This is wrong, she thought. Aunt Polara wouldn’t have wanted this.
She stood still for a moment, trapped in indecision. A part of her didn’t want to move an inch closer to that haunted relic and it knew her dear aunt wouldn’t have wanted her to either. But another voice welled up in the back of her head, whispering a truth she hated to acknowledge. A truth she knew, but hurt more than anything else in the world.
Aunt Polara isn’t here anymore.
Celeste made up her mind and reached out to touch the tome again. Instantly, it sprung back to life. Color raced through the words, illuminating them again in a brilliant light. Celeste fought the pull to turn and run away; she didn’t want to go through what she just had all over again, but she needed to.
The lucid shine around each shape shifted and shimmered, the carved words again reshaping themselves, but not like they had before. This time they remained as letters- clear, legible letters- and Celeste could make out what they said. The letters across the entire tablet melded into one glorious word, blazing in brilliant light. It was a name:
Singulus.
As soon as she saw it, Celeste mouthed the word aloud. It felt natural to. It felt right to invoke the name.
“Singulus,” she said, and the glow shimmered again, before dousing out completely. For several minutes, everything was silent. Without the light of the stone, the room had gone dark- the storm outside had obscured the sun, and the darkness was beginning to feel oppressive. It felt as though it was weighing down on her, choking her with that same pressure as what had been in her head. The silence was no better, but she refused to utter even the quietest sound. She had uttered a word that ought to linger- a sacred word, and she couldn’t bear to bring herself to break his commanded silence.
But she didn’t have to. With a rush of tempestuous wind originating from nowhere in particular, light flooded back. A voice spoke from out of the wind, as fierce and powerful as the raging storm outside.
“I know what you seek, little one.”
Celeste was afraid.
The whole tablet was consumed by a resplendent glow, burning brighter and hotter than any of the previous. The contours along the sole etched word began their work of warping and changing just as they had before, melting and reshaping into new shapes in the surface of the rock. This time, however, it wasn’t the shapes on the tablet that mattered, but the shapes that took form in the darkness by their lurid glow.
At first the light-shapes appeared as little more than meaningless abstract apparitions, but then they too began to meld together, becoming one solid object- no, one solid figure. First came its tail, long and serpentine, ending in a sharp triangular point. Then came its talons, jagged, hooked and menacing, connected to a pair of muscular digitigrade legs. The tail and legs connected to a broad, muscular body. Colossal wings sprouted from its shoulders; not wings like Celeste’s, but great sweeping leathery appendages larger even than the rest of its body’s bulk. And finally materialized the form of its head, awful and awe-inspiring; it had a long, fearsome face that reminded Celeste of the drawings she had seen of the great far-off theropods, and jaws filled to the brim with glistening fangs to match. At the rear of its head jutted an assortment of twisted, frightful horns. But nothing scared Celeste more than how its lidless, slitted eyes- though formed purely out of light like the rest of it- burned with ancient cunning and raw power.
This apparition, Celeste could sense, was not merely some trick of the lights. It- no, he- was something primordial, something more dreadful and powerful than any other creature that had ever stepped foot on Pangea- and he wasn’t even here in the flesh. She knew him instantly, who he had to be: Singulus. He demanded all of her awe, all of her reverence, every bit of her that she had to give. To her, he was divine; to him, she was nothing. And she had very little to offer.
So she did what Aunt Polara had taught her to do when first meeting someone important- she curtsied, dipping her body and splaying her wings out to her sides. She was trembling fiercely. She could scarcely breathe and she feared to look the awesome creature in his resplendent eyes.
“Look at me.”
He boomed, and Celeste felt she had no choice but to obey. There wasn’t any defying a creature as great and powerful as he. She looked into his eyes and felt as though his stare might melt her down into nothingness right there on the spot.
Is this worth it? She thought, doing her best to fight the urge to curl up and hide from that burning gaze. Is it better to feel scared than alone? That only took a moment’s thought. Nothing is worse than being alone.
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“Do you know what I am, little one?”
“Singulus,” Celeste replied, quietly. She was just as scared to look at him as her voice was to utter a sound.
“Not who. What.”
The little pterosaur shook her head, but she did have some idea. Aunt Polara had called him evil.
“I was ancient before the first of your ancestors walked this world. I have seen empires rise and fall, thousands of your creatures live and die- and millions more before them. I have outlived them all. I will outlive the rest. I am above time. I am above death.” He went silent for a moment, letting his pronouncement linger. “I am above life. I am a god.”
Celeste had no difficulty believing that. But she had to know: was Aunt Polara right? Had she ever been wrong about anything before? She choked on her words. Her voice didn’t want to carry the words she had to ask.
“Are you evil?”
“Evil?” Singulus’s image flickered for a moment, recoiling as if he had been struck. Did that word hurt him? Could anything hurt him? “There is no such thing as good or evil. There is only power and dominion; I have both, over all things.”
“Are you telling the truth?” Celeste couldn’t believe she had dared to ask the question. Who was she to question a self-proclaimed god? She had never heard anyone lie before, but she knew that people did. But how could any creature this magisterial tell a lie? Still, she knew that evil was real. Aunt Polara had taught her that, and she knew it was true- death was evil, and it was powerful. Evil was real, no matter what this great being proclaimed. So was he lying, or were there things that even he didn’t know?
“What is truth? There is no such thing. We make ‘truth’- it is merely the world we see, and what we think of it. I see all of this world, and I shape it- not just today, but yesterday, tomorrow, and forever; thus, I am the one to make truth. Truth is what I make it to be.”
“Aunt Polara said you were evil. Is that the truth?”
“Did your aunt really say I am evil? I have already said, little one, that there is no such thing. Perhaps she meant that I was ‘evil, to her.’ That demonstrates my point, little Celeste. That was her truth.”
Celeste was confused. How could that be possible? How could the truth be different from one person to another? Nothing Singulus said was making sense. The ruff on the back of her neck stood on end, warning her that something was not right, that she shouldn’t trust this creature.
“I sense your trepidation. I understand my words must be so difficult for you to understand; you are, after all, still so little. But I am aged, and I am wise; I have seen much, more than the eldest of your elders; I have learned more than the wisest of your most learned scholars. Allow me to illuminate you, dearest daughter- my beloved Celeste: your aunt named you because she thought you were a miracle, a gift from heaven itself- but to your father, you were nothing but a curse. You were brought down from no heavens, but from the egg of your mother- a mother who died laying you. Do you see? There was an event- your birth- but two ‘truths.’ You cannot be both a blessing and a curse, but to each you were one or the other. There is no truth, only perspective; and I have all perspective. Which means I make truth.”
That made sense, sort of. But what did that mean? Was she a blessing? Was she a curse? She had known how she was born for a few months; Aunt Polara had thought she had grown old enough to understand what had happened. Her parents had wanted a child for years and years, but when they finally had her, her mother died in the process- and her father hated her for it. She supposed now that that must have been his truth, that she deserved his hatred. I probably do.
“Which am I?” she asked, tentatively. “You make the truth, so what am I?”
“I assure you, little Celeste, you matter so very, very much to me. I care about you more than anyone else ever has, for I have sought you out through time eternal so that we might speak. Your aunt, she cared about you too- but not like me; for she died and left you all alone, just like everyone else. But I, dearest little one, am here forever. I will never leave you. And because I care about you so much, I know what it is you want: to be loved, to never be alone again.”
It was true. That was what she wanted, more than anything else in the world! Was it possible that he had the means to grant her wish?
“Yes, dearest Celeste, I can fulfill your desire. Your new friend, the boy from the monastery, I can make him never want to leave you. I can make him stay with you forever, until the end of your days. I can make him love you, like no one else has ever loved you. I can make it so that you are never alone, ever again. You want that, don’t you?”
She did, more than anything! But was it right to do that? To make someone love you? Then she remembered what he had taught her, that there was no such thing as good or evil, and so there wasn’t any right or wrong. Only what he had the power to do; and she was confident this was a power he had. He was quite persuasive. She opened her beak to reply, but he raised a talon for silence and it snapped shut again instantly.
“I can do this for you, of course. I can do many, many greater things than this. But first, there is something from you I need.”
Something he needs? From me? But what did she possibly have to give him? She was poor and friendless, without even the most meager of possessions to trade. What did she have that he didn’t?
“I’ll do anything,” she stammered, trying her hardest not to sound like she was begging. It was still dreadfully frightful to look him in the eyes. “If you can really do this. Not make me alone anymore, I mean. But I don’t have much to give you…”
“I can do this, and I will indeed. I do not ask much from you. There will come a time, long from now, when I will have need of you. All I ask is that when that time comes, you will be faithful to me as I will be faithful to you. That isn’t much to ask, is it? Not in return for what I’ve promised you?”
“I can do that!” Celeste replied, quickly and excitedly. That really wasn’t too much to ask for at all, she knew how to be loyal! Aunt Polara had always said that loyalty was a virtue, especially toward people who had done good things for you.
“Good girl. There is only one last thing I need from you, to seal our deal. It is merely the continual remnant of ancient tradition, but someone as old as I comes to admire tradition; it persists, as do I. There is a ritual that assures a pact is bound by more than just words between us: our pact must be bound up in blood. I need yours.”
Celeste did not like the sound of that at all. She wasn’t sure why, but the sound of it made her dearly uncomfortable. The better part of her mind screamed at her to turn and flee, to escape while she still had the ability to. Aunt Polara had warned his deals were evil, and now he was demanding her blood! But she felt rooted in place under the pressure of that burning glare and she couldn’t dare to bring herself to defy anything as powerful as him. Besides, he was promising what she had always wanted. How could she refuse it now when she was so close, just because she felt a little squeamish?
“Do not be alarmed, little one. I do not require much from you, just a few drops. That’s a small price to pay for something so precious, isn’t it?”
She nodded, hesitantly.
“It’s easy. Just take a claw and swipe it over your wing. It will not harm you, I promise.”
“There isn’t any other way?”
“No. It must be blood.”
Celeste obediently raised one claw, laying it against the membrane of her wing. She poked in but quickly drew back from the sting before she drew any blood. This was wrong, no matter what Singulus said! Some things were wrong, and this was one of them! Aunt Polara had been right: this dealmaker was just as evil as she said he was.
“You do want to be loved, don’t you? This is your chance. Your only chance. I will not love you if you falter here- he will not love you if you cower.”
She was trembling now, her claw still held firm against her flesh. She wanted to be loved more than anything. She had already lost so many others, she couldn’t stand to lose her new friends too. Aunt Polara, she thought, pressing deeper into her skin. Forgive me. I can’t lose anyone else. I don’t want to hurt anymore. She began to cry openly now, biting down on her tongue as she dug her claw in. Blood dripped from the wound, melding in with her tears as the drops fell upon the tablet’s surface.
The pact was struck. She had sworn her loyalty to Singulus and in return, she would never be alone again.
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Celeste couldn’t shake her dreams.
It had only been a few days since Tempest had come to visit her last, on the afternoon that he and his friends had been attacked by a monster at their local pond. She had never had too much of a problem of missing him in between his visits; she had it on good authority that he wouldn’t abandon her, and so far that had been absolutely true.
She was terrified the first few weeks after they had met that he wouldn’t come back again each time he left. She was used to that- the people she cared about leaving her behind. It had happened first with her family, and then again with every other friend she had ever made, save Tempest. Every time he left he did come back, always with the same resolute spirit of fiery courage and abounding love. After a few weeks, she shed any doubts that he would leave her too. After those tenuous first few weeks, she never dropped her faith in him to return, no matter how long his absences.
She had been made a promise, a promise that thenceforth had been kept. Perhaps. In all honesty, she wasn’t quite sure any promise had ever even been made. After that frightful day so many years ago, she hadn’t heard the voice of that primordial entity again; Singulus had disappeared with the pledge of her blood. If it wasn’t for the little scar on the back of her wing, she would have been certain the entire encounter was a trauma-induced dream, a nightmare brought on by her dear aunt’s death. She still wasn’t entirely sure that that wasn’t the case.
The days had been peaceful for Celeste since that day. She finally had a friend, someone who trusted her and believed in her and loved her like no one else had, and maybe that had been all that she had ever needed. In the years since, she had taken up a calling as a doctor- and she was quite good at it. She had the respect of her village and the love of the best person she knew; life had become quite good for her, indeed.
Had.
Lately, she had become afflicted with a creeping worry, an uncomfortable feeling of lurking danger. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was spurred by the attack on Tempest and his friends, shattering an illusion of a peaceful world. Perhaps it was the looming chaos of the world beyond, the governmental implosion at the capital, or the latest announcement by Civitas Lapis that they would be shutting their doors to travelers and withdrawing their soldiers. There was certainly danger in this world boiling to the surface that could worry anyone, but Celeste couldn’t shake the feeling that the danger was something close, something intimate and targeted directly towards her- and her beloved.
And no matter what she tried, she just couldn’t shake the dreams.
Celeste had never been much of a dreamer; when she dreamed, she tended to forget about what in the morning. But for the past few days, she had been having the exact same recurring dream- and she was dreaming it again tonight.
In her dream, Celeste saw herself- or, rather, a future her. She was fully grown, and was arrayed in the finest raiments she had ever seen: a beautiful silk dress accented with the finest gemstones and jewelry and punctuated by a glorious golden crown. She was in a palace of some sort, somewhere she didn’t recognize, and was seated upon a golden throne with a regal poise that suggested the position had become natural to her. She was a queen.
A crowd was bowed at her feet- worshipping her, singing out words of praise and devotion. There was another throne to her right with a familiar figure perched upon it- the king, her beloved: Tempest. He was crowned just like her and adorned in a magnificent golden armor. Another familiar figure was emblazoned in perfect relief across the breastplate: the distinct silhouette of the primordial wyrm Singulus.
At the other side of King Tempest were a set of smaller thrones, with little figures seated thereupon. Celeste’s heart skipped a beat at the sight and she knew who they must have been instantly. Are they…? Is it possible?
…my children?
She wanted to look on them, to examine them more closely, to verify that they were really there and that they really were who her heart was so certain they were. No matter how hard she tried though, she just couldn’t. Her- or rather, Queen Celeste’s- head refused to move. It was firmly fixed forward, onto the crowd of her devout worshippers. She couldn’t move. She was powerless, helpless to see anything but what the dream wanted her to. Why couldn’t she turn to see her princes and princesses? Why couldn’t she look on the faces of her babies?
The wind blew through her palace halls with tempestuous force. Whispers echoed through her throne room, pricking against the ruff of her ears and seeping into her head like wordless chants. Celeste could swear she made out a word or two, but each time she did they were just as quickly overwhelmed by the whirlwind of others. The whispers grew in intensity, louder and louder until it became painful to hear them. It felt like they were squeezing out from the inside of her brain, threatening to burst it from within.
Stop! Please stop! She begged and did her best to do the same aloud, but she couldn’t make her beak open. Her body was a puppet piloted by someone else’s strings and she was only along for the ride. Please!
They did. The cacophony of wordless whispers ceased as they melded into a single unified voice- a powerful voice, a booming voice, a voice she knew at once and dreaded at the first inflection. Singulus.
“Can you see, most beloved daughter, what I can give you?”
Her head nodded of its own accord, forced to accept the vision she was being presented.
“This is but the smallest foretaste of what awaits you, if you fulfill the terms of the deal we made all those years ago, when you were still such a little creature. The whole of the world will love you like no other- the way he loves you.”
Celeste’s head moved to look upon the visage of her king. He looked like Tempest- an older Tempest, of course- in every detail. Even his peculiar little mannerisms, the way he cocked his head a little when he talked, the way he flexed his wings a little when he turned his head. He turned and looked into her eyes and smiled his handsome smile, but something about it made Celeste uneasy. This figure looked and acted like him, but when she looked into his eyes she felt no warmth, none of that genuine tender love that he offered with every glance. Tempest’s eyes were cold and hollow, like he was just another empty puppet bound to another’s whims- just like her. This wasn’t the Tempest she loved.
“And you see them, don’t you? The true reward for your loyalty: your children, beloved and feared by all the world. You, their beloved mother, never forgotten again. Never alone again.”
That word, alone, sent shivers down her spine. She hated that word with every fiber of her being. She hated how it made her feel, she hated it had haunted her through her whole life, until she finally found Tempest. Until he rescued her from her perpetual loneliness. Until Singulus.
“Do not fear for them, oh loyal daughter. I have been true to my promises. I gave you the love of the friend you so dearly desired- the love of one so much dearer to you than just a friend. I gave him to you, and I sustained him with you. I have kept my word faithfully- and I offer you another promise I fully intend to keep: fulfill your duty, keep your oath to serve me, and these children- not only they, but so many more- will be given to you, to love and to love you.”
Celeste’s head moved again of its own accord, this time to look upon the faces of her children. Her heart pounded with a fervor of love she had never felt before. They were hers! She could see the resemblance to her- and of course, to their father, and she loved them more than anything else in the world. She would do anything for them. Anything.
“Yes, loyal daughter, I am a gracious master. I will give you all of them and more if you fulfill your oaths. There is a time coming, little one, when your loyalty will be put to the test. There will be some who will take up arms against me, who will defy my dominion and battle my people. Serve me well and you will be rewarded according to my word.”
Her eyes were fixed firmly on the faces of her little hatchlings.
“But let me warn you, small one, of what happens if you defy me:”
The vision faded in a moment. She was back in her own body- or, very nearly her own body. She couldn’t have been a few months older than she was now, just having crossed into adulthood. She was back in the main room of her little home, and she was once again alone.
Had she woken up from her dream? Was she back in the real world? She had control of herself again, and everything felt real here. She took a cursory look around, but everything looked just like how she had left it. She did, however, pick up on a new smell. It was something strong and earthy, almost like-
Celeste looked down and gasped; there was a nest at her feet. It couldn’t be her nest, could it? And it definitely hadn’t been there when she went to sleep, had it? What did she need a nest for? And then she saw it- a quartet of little eggs, snugly nestled amongst the ferns and conifer leaves. She didn’t have to ask whose eggs they were- she knew from the first glance.
My eggs. My children.
But how had they gotten here? She had no memory of laying eggs, or making a nest, or…
“Soon. You will be having them very soon, daughter. I offer this vision to you as a premonition- a warning for what is to come. Serve me, and you will see these eggs hatch to rule empires in our name.” Singulus paused a moment, letting her work out the alternative. “Disobey me, and witness:”
The room grew warm. It was simply an uncomfortable warmth at first, but then it continued to heat up. Soon, the heat was overwhelming. Celeste could hardly bear to stand. She could hear shouts from just outside her home and she could see an orange blaze taking shape at her window. She could smell smoke. The heat developed into an inferno, until it became too much for her to bear.
Celeste collapsed, unconscious.
A few moments later, she woke again. She tried to inhale, but her lungs caught on a plume of smoke and she was sent into a coughing fit. The whole room was charred with a layer of black smoke so thick she could barely see a few inches in front of her. Celeste dropped to the floor, doing her best to find air she could still breathe.
My eggs! My babies! She panicked, crawling forward with all the strength her wings could muster. She couldn’t see the nest anywhere, where were her children? Fire chained through the room, providing both necessary light and promising a terrible heat-death soon to come. None of that mattered now- she had to find her eggs!
Celeste crawled forward, again, and again, until she heard a sickening crunch. She knew what she would see if she looked down, but she couldn’t bear not to; she had to see. Celeste looked down and shrieked. She tore at her skin, lashing out at everything she could wrap her claws around. She screamed and screamed, without the faintest regard for how much smoke she inhaled.
Three shattered eggs dotted the nest, their contents spilled out at their base, the little hatchlings that had been inside now lying cold and lifeless. Eggshells dug into her skin, ripping at her flesh, but Celeste couldn’t feel a drop of the pain; there was no pain that could be worse than what she felt now.
Tempest! Where was Tempest? Why wasn’t he here? Why didn’t he save her children; why didn’t he save his children?
“Witness consequence, Celeste. Witness what comes if you defy me. Awake now, little one. The time is soon at hand. When you hear my name in that world, know that the war has begun. Remember all that you’ve been shown. I know you’ll make the right decision, oh most loyal daughter of mine.”
With one last devastated roar, smoke poured into Celeste’s lungs, and she blacked out once more.
----------------------------------------
Celeste awoke with a start. It had just been a dream, a terrible, terrible dream. She was alive, but that wasn’t what mattered- her eggs! Were her eggs safe?
Celeste tore her way through the ferns of her bed and scrambled out from her room into the main chamber of her home. It was empty. She searched under everything, behind and under every possession that she owned, and nearly began to claw at her own skin in search of her missing babies- and then she remembered. She never had eggs. She never had a nest. All of it had just been a dream.
Her legs buckled and she collapsed at the center of the room, panting. It had all just been a bad dream. Light poured in around her through an open window and Celeste couldn’t help but notice it was already late in the afternoon. How long had she been asleep?
There was a knock on the door, but she was much too weary to answer it. After a short pause, there was another knock, more insistent this time. Finding her strength against the drain of a queasy stomach, Celeste rose to her feet. Before she could open the door, however, there was a third knock, and then someone else opened it for her.
Her heart stopped.
There, at the entryway to her home, was her beloved Tempest- weakly standing in a pool of his own blood.