The streets were filled with the cries of the crowd, triumphant and joyous. The long war had finally ended. They had been victorious in beating back the forces of evil, banishing it to a distant continent with no way of returning. Mothers tearfully reunited with their sons, wives happily with their husbands, and children ran past uncaring with sweets in their hands, pointing up at the fireworks exploding in a colorful array of what they believed to be magic. I continued to watch this unseen in the shadows. I had long forgotten what year it was; time was a different concept to an immortal being, but I understood that what might have been seconds for me was lifetimes for these mortals. That something that remained fresh in my mind had long been written down in their history books and shared to the next generation. The war was a fitting example of this. While short to me, I knew it was long for them, spanning hundreds of generations. The ending of such a long, dark era must have been a huge blessing and the turning point for their hopes.
People began to dance as the music picked up in speed and drinks were passed along. Celebrations were a wonderful way to end a war, to appreciate surviving the horrors of the battlefield. They were lucky and knew it for they were the handful of thousands that had returned from the aftermath of the decisive battle. They would never be the same again after what they saw out there. No, I reflected, the world would not find balance for many more generations.
I watched as a crowd gathered in the center of the town, unveiling a statue in my likeness. A warmth spread over me as I read the nameplate on the base of the statue:
“In remembrance of our beloved goddess, Aeneara E’ane’a — May she always bless us in mind, body, and spirit.”
They would remember me and the sacrifices I made to keep them safe against my sister’s power. They would never suspect, could never believe, that it was truthfully I who had set her on this dark path. That the atrocities committed by her these past hundreds of years could have been avoided if I had been more careful instead of carefree. My naivety seemed to have bled into these creations of mine. But I had paid for my sins in full, giving up my divinity to join them in their fight against my sister. The mortal body that I had inhabited had constrained me, prevented me from using my full power but even so I was more than enough to match the forces she commanded. It was only until I met her on the field of battle, when she recognized my essence leaking out of the mortal body…
While the celebrations continued, I felt a sharp stab in my chest. I could not tell if it was the grief of losing my beloved sister to the darkness or the ghostly impression of the orichalcum blade that she had used to pierce my once beating heart.
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A man and woman clumsily clung to each other, cheeks red from alcohol and giddiness. Uproarious laughter followed the sound of a man tipping too far back in his chair. It soothed the pain in my heart somewhat. These people would live peacefully from now on. They would be safe. Our beloved creations. While my sister may be gone, a little piece of her would still live on within these people. Would she be happy knowing this? Would the world turn out to be all that we had wished for without our guidance?
I did not know.
It would soon be time to return to my divine body. I resisted the pull that I had begun to feel on my essence as my Nephilim worked their resurrection magic. It was too soon. I wanted to remain just a bit longer, to enjoy the ending just a bit more however bittersweet it was.
My attention wandered to a group of kids that were running through the streets without a care in the world. My eyes followed them ducking and weaving between the adults and jumping over chairs. They would grow up and make something of themselves instead of fighting in the army – the first generation to do so. Would they understand the enormity of that? Would they know how important their successfulness would be in deciding the future of their world? Would they appreciate the endless opportunities that their ancestors did not have, the lack of choices denied them? Their innocent laughter brought me out of my reverie and reminded me that they were still young and carefree. The weight of the world should not rest on their shoulders just yet.
My gaze had begun to wander elsewhere when I saw one of the youngest boys from the group trip over a chair and fall. When he saw the blood on his hands and knees, his eyes welled with tears that leaked down his face, unnoticed by the kids that ran by or the adults continuing with their celebrations. His sorrow and loneliness in that moment reached out to me and I felt a deep connection with this little boy. I reached out softly to his mind to comfort him. His tears stopped instantly, and a look of wonderment spread across his face at my gentle caress in his mind. He looked around expecting to see someone, but I knew he would never be able to see me. While he may have been part of the E’ane’ar, the blessed race that the others referred to as elves, he was also half-human which diluted his magical capabilities.
I turned to go, to slip back into the shadows and let the Nephilim take me home, but I felt eyes upon me and turned slightly to see the little boy staring straight at me. We locked eyes for a few seconds, but I am sure it felt like an eternity for us both before he smiled at me, got up, and ran away.
My surprise kept me rooted to the spot, staring at the retreating form of the boy. He had seen me when no one else could. The connection that I felt between us was firm and unyielding despite the distance that now separated us, a reminder that all is never as it seems. I turned away with a growing sense of certainty that this would not be the first nor last time the boy and I crossed paths in this life or the next.