It was amusing, almost, to look back on it. They were living in the times of the Minotaur and of Ekambar… yet the most eventful thing that happened in their life was finding a little mourning dove with a broken wing.
If they were being honest, they didn’t know what they were doing. Their parents were more likely to simply kill an animal in such a condition than to try to help it. But they found themself drawn to it, like they had some kind of subconscious desire to do what they could. It wasn’t until years later that they realized that it wasn’t their careful attention, their nurturing of the poor little thing, that had helped it fly again. No, it had been the ikretta they’d picked and brought so the mounting dove could have some semblance of nature with it as it recovered. Ikretta that had always mysteriously disappeared whenever he left it alone for too long.
Because it hadn’t just been a normal mourning dove—it had been a Fos.
But that discovery was still many years away.
…
Depending on the view, they’d always been a part of the sidelines of legends. But it wasn’t until that day that they were involved in one themself. They witnessed something grand, a piece of Orestis’s plan that few at the time were lucky enough to understand. They’d understood the moment of that scene, the way that moment will make its mark on history, as soon as they heard the voice.
Would you like to be a part of this?
They knew exactly who it was. And, as their parents had taught them—as their mind and body willed it, almost as if not their own—they knelt down where they stood. After all, they were hearing the voice of the Creator; one would never dare to disobey Him.
I have mighty plans for you, ones that will bring life and destruction to some places you might have once called home. It will not be a path for those unwilling to hold true to their faith.
“But if the will is yours,” they muttered, captivated, thoughts surprisingly empty despite the implications, “then my body, too, is at your command.”
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A sound similar to a laugh echoed through the back of their mind.
Very well, then. Come to me in my domain, and I shall make you a Messenger of the Gods.
They stood up and followed some hidden instinct. They hadn’t paid attention to what they were doing or where they were going; it wasn’t long, though, before they realized this was how they accessed Sanctuary.
Orestis continued to speak with them, as they made their way to Him.
You will be venerated, feared—your role in fate will be crucial. You will witness the birth and death of many mortals, for you will no longer be one of them. You will reside with Me, in My Sanctuary, where the trouble of mortals will not bother you. If this seems to your liking, then enter.
They stepped inside, entering Sanctuary for the first time.
…
Sanctuary was a strange place. The gods and angels met here, seeming more like an average community than the grand hierarchy that they’d been expecting. Among these holy creatures were children who seemed capable of turning into certain animals—that was when they’d first learned of the Fos. The role of the Fos, and the Skiá they fought, was underappreciated in the eyes of mortals at the time… it wasn’t until the legends would leave the land, that mortals must trust in faith instead of a clear figure in front of them, that their importance was acknowledged by the world.
Though, they certainly weren’t expecting one of them to rush up to them on their way back from getting their orders from Orestis.
“Jun, it is you!” She was one of the oldest-looking of the Fos there, perhaps ten or eleven, though it was a certain aura that showed she’d one day be considered an ‘elder’ among them. “I didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to see you again!”
They spoke to her like they did any other Fos that decided to talk to them: a colder tone, one that hinted they’d much rather be left alone. “And you are?”
“Mazel! You helped me, remember? I was that mourning dove! I wanted to thank you for what you did, but Day wouldn’t let me back around where it happened, and I never got to see you again! But now that you’re—”
“I believe you’re still mistaken.” They stepped around her and went back on their way. “When I took this role in Orestis’s plan, I swore that I was someone different. The same person that stepped into Sanctuary for that first time was not the same that stepped out of it. Any portion of my old life is gone, resting with Vriuh, so anything that happened in it matters not.”
They walked away without giving her a glance, firm in their stance and beliefs. They couldn’t be the herald of the Creator’s future if they themself were always looking back at the past. In this, they were certain.