The Aether God: Chapter 1 (Prologue) - The Festival of Atonement
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?
Son of man, you cannot say, or guess, for you know only a heap of broken images.
The Labyrinth
The only sounds that can be heard are those of the calamity. This once vibrant landscape has been reduced to a bleak expanse of darkness and destruction. Where verdant rivers and rolling hills once thrived, now only jagged ruins and smoldering embers embedded in flesh remain.
Above, the sky crackles with frenzied energy as colossal tornados spiral downward, their deafening roars drowning out any remaining whimpers of tranquility. Each gust of wind carries with it the stench of decay and despair, whipping up clouds of rock and flesh that swirl endlessly in the tempest's wake. Lightning streaks across the heavens in jagged arcs, illuminating the desolation below with a sanguine light, before serrated beams of Infernal Ether crash down and erupt. Only then, silhouettes of ruins and death pierce the tangible darkness.
…………………
Tens of thousands of Ethereal Artists dotted the sky, frantically accelerating in all directions in a futile attempt to escape the calamity. They soon became engulfed in the roiling winds. Some tried to evoke barriers, while others conjured powerful torrents of water or fire, hurling them at the sky with reckless abandon. Ethereal energies crackled in the air and, as if from nothing, formed distorted projectiles that streaked across the landscape like shooting stars, felling thousands. Their limp limbs dangled upward, flailing toward the heavens as their lifeless bodies plummeted, crashing down to their final resting places. Those below fought with an intensity born of desperation against their fates. Their bodies suddenly ignited, and their necks began to twist unnaturally until a visceral crack could be heard. One by one their charred bodies began to collapse amid rock and flesh, as if their mere existence was repugnant to itself. Within moments their numbers had fallen drastically. Before long, all life within this wasteland would expire.
Yet suddenly, the world stood still. The tumultuous winds ceased their howling, the roaring tornados remained suspended in mid-air beneath the frozen tendrils of brilliant red light within the clouds. It felt as though time itself had fallen into a slumber, and sound had ceased its dreadful song. Reality was dangling on a thread between chaos and surreal tranquility.
Within this still reality, the sound of rustling could be heard. A figure emerged from the shadows into a clearing, riding a wave of Ether which soon dispersed. He was a middle-aged man carrying an infant in his arms. His long, jet-black hair was matted with sweat and blood, streaks of which streamed down his face as he fell to his knees. His brilliant blue eyes were now dulled with exhaustion and pain, and his body had little remaining energy. Despite his tattered countenance being that of an all-powerful being, tears began to well up in his eyes. He looked up to the heavens and began to weep.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
The man cried out to the heavens in a desperate plea. With trembling hands, he cradled the small baby in his arms and pulled it close to his chest, rocking back and forth in great sorrow. "To take everything..." His voice trailed off, choked with emotion as tears began to stream down his dirt-streaked face.
The man's gaze fell upon the innocent child nestled in his arms. He wanted the time the boy had left to be different. There was so much that he wanted to say to the child in that moment, but words escaped him, whether or not their utterance would have made any difference. He simply pressed his forehead against the baby's. As tears began to drip onto the child, it also began to cry. The man uttered the words. "I love you."
With a trembling hand, he brushed the thin strands of hair away from the child's face, his fingers lingering on its soft skin. After a moment he gently removed a necklace from around his neck with a blue ring affixed to it. With a touch, the necklace shattered and dissipated into smoke before he slid the ring onto the tiny finger of the baby nestled in his arms. The ring glowed a cerulean blue as it shrunk to the size of the infant’s finger. He touched the head of the baby, and it quieted, falling into a peaceful slumber. Through the sorrowful trembling of his eyes, cheeks and lips, the man smiled, bidding farewell.
He then closed his eyes, and soon all the features of his face relaxed and came to a perfect stillness. His mind and soul became calm and still.
Summoning forth all the remaining Ether that coursed through his veins, he spoke, as if but not a whisper, "Antallagi." The quiet syllables reverberated through the silence slowly, and then all at once, dissipated. Once again, all was silent…
Soon, the energy in front of him began to churn and swirl, coalescing into an expansive, dazzling vortex of white light. Within the heart of this radiant tempest, a form began to take shape, ethereal and majestic. Two enormous claws emerged and, as if ripping apart the fabric of space itself, tore open the vortex. With a deafening roar, an enormous white-glowing sphinx materialized before him, looming like a mountain over a tiny village. Its colossal figure radiated pure Lumenous Ether, and its eyes blazed with ancient wisdom and untold power. They peered deep into his very soul.
The man spoke:
“I request an exchange.”
Copyright © 2024 Ritchie Charles Fiction.
All Rights Reserved.
Discord: https://discord.gg/ZB9f3Pf8
Patreon: patreon.com/RitchieCharlesFiction