Light Fall

Light Fall

Status: In Progress

Genre: Literary Fiction

Houses:

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Literary Fiction

Houses:

Summary

Born into a land where magic and greed have left the people in desperate times and a religious cult called the Light is the closest thing to a government, Lezara is a fourteen year old earth-walker who has to make her way in these dangerous bandit-ridden, occult kidnapping lands. But with the details of her birth and the help of people she meets along the way, maybe the world isn't in dire straits yet.
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Summary

Born into a land where magic and greed have left the people in desperate times and a religious cult called the Light is the closest thing to a government, Lezara is a fourteen year old earth-walker who has to make her way in these dangerous bandit-ridden, occult kidnapping lands. But with the details of her birth and the help of people she meets along the way, maybe the world isn't in dire straits yet.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Prologue

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 02, 2017

Reads: 10

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 02, 2017

A A A

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This story begins long ago, in a place impossible for one from our place to understand. So alien is this realm from ours that my words may at times fail to demonstrate the wonders of it in their entirety. However I am driven to write the story anyway, to tell the tale of two opposing cosmic forces: reason and chaos, and the effects that they would inevitably impose on the lives of the heroes of this story. To begin the tale, we start on a night unlike any other, when the stars rained down from the sky…

On the night of Lezara’s birth, it seemed like the stars had taken it upon themselves to visit the earth. The constant tremors lasted the entirety of the night, the longest of the year, keeping the newborn babe awake with the constant rocking of the old cottage tucked neatly between two hills. A midwife sits beside the baby’s cradle, weaving spells of rest and calm over the baby. In the other room, for the cottage was barely big enough for the family of three that had resided in it since the previous night, the babe’s father tended to the needs of his wife. He flitted from spot to spot around the room, his expression one of intense worry and concentration. His wife’s ragged breathing was only getting worse, and even after the placenta had been removed she was losing an alarming amount of blood. He rifled through his bags, pulling out strange contraptions and jars glowing in a rainbow of neon colors and tossing them aside hastily, as if they were trying to hinder his search.

On the blood-soaked bed where she lay panting, the mother called out for her husband, the sound of her pain-scratched voice grating against his skin and summoning him to her side in a flash. Her normally ashen brown skin was a pasty tan, and her eyes, usually so blue and vibrant that he often felt like he was staring into the depths of a bottomless pool when he gazed into them, were glazed and filmy, looking at him and the room around them but seeing nothing. The tremors from the starfall reverberated through the cottage wall with a deep somber resonance, and in the rhythm he could feel the inevitable finality of the moment. His wife was going to die.

“Mietra,” his voice was heavy with the realization of this truth, wary from the many thousands of miles spent running with his pregnant wife. He knelt and took her damp, over-warm hand in his own. Their bodies were intricately covered in vine-like tribal marks. The swirls of her own matched perfectly with his, seeming as if a living tattoo that jumped from her body to his. They sat there like that for a second that lasted an eternity, holding a conversation so intimate that only the contact of their eyes could convey it. At last he burst into a sob, shattering the contact.

“Predvu please,” Mietra’s voice was weaker than even just a few seconds ago. In all the time that the two had been akaru (a type of bond that tied them closer than blood, so that his pain made her cry and her joy brought the purest of childlike laughter from his lips), he had never heard her sound this weak, this broken. But he couldn’t do what she asked him. They each knew the other’s thoughts frequently before they even had the chance to speak them, so deep was the bond they shared. So of course he knew what she wanted with her dying breaths. To take her life energy, and gift it to their daughter, the minutes-old baby in the other room who won’t even know her mother, whose birth was the reason they were on the run to begin with. But if he were to grant this desire, Mietra would never die, which would be a fate worse than death. She would be trapped, her spirit bound to the object she would spend the rest of eternity in. Long after he had died, their daughter’s children’s children had perished, after empires had risen and fallen and risen again, even when life ceased to exist on the planet as all life must eventually she would be here, trapped wherever her soulpiece lay, alone and very much alive and very possibly insane. He couldn’t bring himself to do that to her.

In the other room the baby fussed noisily in her sleep as a particularly heavy star landed nearby, sending the cottage to wobbling. The old woman, who had been generous enough to let them wait out the starfall in her cottage, started gently shushing the baby in the Old Tongue. On the bed in front of him Mietra’s pleading eyes pierced his heart, and the fact that she was about to die broke it.

“Please,” she begged again, “you know she won’t make it without me. I know what doing so will mean, and I’m sorry that what it will do to you is necessary. But it is necessary, Voo. I have to ask, please Predvu, my ataru.” With the words the force of her will crashed into him, flooding him with her emotions: her pain, her fear, her determination and more powerfully than any other, her love. Her words and the sheer force of her will knocked Predvu to his knees. The Shadow of Death cloaked her, a film that only mages from their clan could see. It wrapped around her like shado made cloth, wisping off like smoke and warning of Death’s imminent approach.

He sighed and loooked into her eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I love you,” he choked out on his grief.

“Always,” was her weak reply. With a heavy heart he started gathering the necessary supplies to ban her from Death forever…

In the other room the midwife had just calmed the baby girl down and was just moving to check on the other two when a sound caught her attention over the thudding of the starfall. Her gaze was drawn outside, where twenty or so figures stood. They were cloaked all in white: matching white uniforms, boots, belts with silver studs and cloaks with a red gyrfalcon crested on the right shoulder. They looked like ghosts, spectres come to witness the newborn’s birth. But the midwife was a wizened old lady who knew better. She had seen many people slain by those who were that crest. The Light had come.

One of the figures, a band of red on his left bicep marking him as some sort of superior to his contemporaries, stepped forward and spoke in a voice that was used to getting what it wanted with no dispute. It was a frigid voice that chilled the midwife in the cottage: “We know you’re in there Predvu. I can taste you. Let’s put this chase to an end why don’t we?” The figures behind him moved to surround the house, moving so fast they seemed to just appear twenty paces away in the blink of an eye, and soon covered every conceivable exit. There would be no escape.

The midwife went to the door to the other room, it’s frame reverberating with the force of the starfall. Her arm raised to knock, then stopped in pensive curiosity. A massive amount of energy was building in the other room, an intense feeling of force that felt like it was trying to grind her into the ground. A blue light was gleaming through the door’s cracks and a high whining sound teased her sensitive ears from just beyond hearing. The  one’s outside must have noticed something was amiss, because she heard banging on the doors and the shattering sound of windows being smashed in. In that same instant, as if the intruders invasion was a cue they were waiting on, the energy from the room spiked, and the midwife flung herself over the crib as an explosion blasted the door off it’s hinges, the force so mighty that everybody was knocked back, slamming against walls if they were so fortunate or being blown over twenty feet away.

The midwife alone still stood, having been quick enough to shield herself and the babe. She held the still sleeping baby in her arms now: taking in the bodies of the invaders strewn every which way, those lucky enough to be alive crying in agony or praying to their king before they passed. The door to the other room had been blown apart by the explosion, and new cracks ran throughout the walls of the cottage. Predvu stepped through the hole where the door was, a dead expression on his face, carrying a staff that was taller than he was, glowing white with golden runes covering its surface. The midwife was more than competent enough in magic to read the protection and enhancement abilities the runes were supposed to give to it’s wielder. She could feel power coming from the staff, wafting off of it like a breeze, constant and soothing. She looked into the other room for Mietra and, seeing only the blood-soaked bed that she was lying on, understood immediately what the young mage had done.

“With Mietra in this form I won’t be long in this world. Please, take her and the baby and watch over them both, kind lady. The fate of the world could very well depend on it,” Predvu asked. His voice was tired, proof that the events of the past few days had finally broken his resolve. He sat the staff next to the cradle, and took the baby from the midwife. “It won’t do to leave you without even a name, will it little one?” He asked, looking into her azure eyes that reminded him so much of her mother. The house quaked again as another star smashed to the earth, the closest one so far.

The baby smiled up at him, reaching for his face, and the way such a simple action brightened the dark room covered in death and destruction brought a smile to his face. “I know a name that your mother would love, from the Old Tongue. My Lezara, my Light Fall. I’m sorry to have to bring you into such a world, but you’re probably it’s only hope kid. Know that even though I won’t be there for you, I will love you always, and your mother will help you any way she can child. Now please, kind Lady, watch over her for me? I’m going to make sure these guys don’t trouble you ever again. Close your eyes, Lady.” He handed the baby, little Lezara, back to the midwife, who accepted the burdensome gift with easy finality.

“Goodbye, stranger. I sense the work of fate in this child. Don’t worry, I will protect her always,” she said in the Old Tongue, a language which had the unique ability to craft reality when spoken with will. Predvu thanked her and looked at the bodies lying around, some of them starting to regain their brains, and smiled a smile of such malicious content that it heated the air around them.

“This is for my wife and daughter,” he whispered, and focused the entirety of his being into a single point in his body, condensing his energy to sacrifice himself for another explosion. The midwife cast another spell of protection over them, and watched the last moments of Predvu’s life unfold before her. It started with a brightening of the room around them, an increase of pressure and temperature in the air all around the tiny cottage. Predvu started glowing, getting brighter and brighter, the pressure increasing in proportion to the luminescence of the light, getting almost unbearable even to the midwife, brighter, heavier. The walls started to crumble, taking too much abuse in too short a time, and chunks crashed to the floor in discordant tremor to the starfall. Predvu looked back at them, at his baby, a shining being that looked more like he belonged in the heaven’s than on the earth, and smiled. And all the world ripped apart before them.


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