Prologue: Part 1

I DO NOT HAVE AN EDITOR–There will be errors

The Beginning 

Prologue: A Message


{The sky, above Maccabee}

Hues of yellows, pinks, and orange fanned across the morning sky. 

 Heralding the new day, the clouds parted to reveal a lone raven, soaring across the horizon

 A small, insignificant black blip, the winged messenger banked left with unparallel speed.

 Surveying the sprawling landscape below; the sweeping valleys, endless plains, and the untamed beauty of the seregenti, the raven took precious time to dip low to fly amongst the roaming buffalo. The great, big black beasts bowed their heads in respect to the raven as it shot back up to continue its mission.   

     Time passed as sand swallowed the landscape until there was nothing but the magical splendor of the desert beneath the raven. From its viewpoint, the desert appeared to be limitless. 

        The desert was a storyteller; the remnants of the ancients linger as if almost forgotten. The quiet, forbidding music of sand sifting, churning, learning echoes the lost cities that fell to the powerful winds, the hungry mouths of the sand, the horrifying storms that strip flesh from bone. It was as deadly as it was beautiful. A prowling tiger waiting to strike–drawing you closer until you least suspect. One could spend their entire life wandering every corner and still find wonders that one could not fathom.  

          Dipping its feathers in the weightless clouds, an ominous caw emerged from the raven’s hooked peak as it suddenly changed its route and dived. 

         Gale winds. Sudden and harsh, the raven tightened its wings closer in an attempt to remain airborne. Breaking from the winds with a harsh spin, the raven jerked to the right, expertly avoiding the new attack. 

        Almost at the apex of the rocky splendor of Mount Helena, the raven snapped its powerful wings before impact and landed gracefully on its talons.

        Windswept and harried-looking, the raven shook its feathers before throwing its head back and cawing loudly in irritation.

        “Do not bark at me so, Kagura. If you had arrived promptly, I would have not needed to intervene.”

        The goddess Lyceria, whose domain and powers stretch from the silvery, fickle face of the moon, Life, fertility, and the tides, did not appear physically at first. Her voice sifted through the air, the gentle wind coiling in a spiral of debris and sand.

     And then, the goddess appeared from a sudden fold of time. 

        It was as if the world snapped in half–a fissure fracturing the air like the scent of crushed snow and ozone filled the air. 

 She gracefully stepped out from the rip in time. The blurry, fast-paced waves of spiraling, intricate lights was no other than space and time itself. 

         It seemed that the goddess of the moon had recently inherited powers from the ancient goddess, Time. 

        The goddess may not be the most enchanting among the immortals but she undoubtfully the most powerful. 

        Compared to the ebony beauty of Rebekah, the goddess of Love whose skin was smoother than any silk and softer than the most luxurious of furs, Lyceria may have lacked the heartstopping appeal the other goddess possessed but when it came to power, the goddess of the Moon had no competition.       

 Thrumming with omnipotent magic, the goddess’s aura shook the very essence of the earth; the air itself stilling with her surrealistic entrance. Even the ground trembled as if in trepidation. 

        As the eldest child of the Great Ones, Abyss and Time, it was foreseen that Lyceria would be the one to transcend the others. 

        The goddess shimmered in the daylight. Flecks of silver winked from every inch of her. It was as if the moon wholly shone from beneath the goddess’s flesh. “Pearlescent” was too tame of a word to describe the stretch of faultless skin. Lyceria was the epitome of the moon; even in her present humanoid form. A voluptuous physique wrapped in a gown crafted entirely from moonlight, it was hopeless to look upon the goddess without the threat of blindness.

 In the past, there have been mortals and even a handle of immortals who dared to brave the unspeakable brilliance of the goddess. Who could blame them? A fine spill of silvery-white hair fell devastatingly from the regal sweep of her shoulders, analogous to eyes the exact shade of moonlight. Being in her presence was intoxicating as it was dangerous. A heady brew of power that dared you to a sip–despite the damning consequences. 

    The goddess glimpsed down at the raven with a slight frown. The only indication of her frustration. 

        A noise that sounded like a sigh came from the raven before a sudden bright light unveiled a young girl where the raven once stood. 

        Adolescent in form, the goddess Kagura stubbornly clung to her strilla dresses despite her advanced age. After the death of her mother, Ai-Rue, who died in childbirth, the twin daughters, Kagura and Akamae inherited both of her powers. Kagura, the youngest sister becoming the new goddess and mother of flora, Kagura the goddess and mother of fauna. 

 Similar to her older sister Akamae, Kagura’s domain did not necessarily give her outstanding magic like Lyceria, but power and manipulation over the beings in her care. Akamae can destroy fields of crops with the swipe of her hand as easily as she can breathe life into a barren field. With the snap of her fingers, Kagura can wipe out an entire herd of water buffalo, call every fowl, hoofed-beast, every fin, to her command, and bless entire farmland with fowls, chicks, and steers. Not detrimental in their range of power, the twin goddesses were important to the mortal’s daily lives. In the days of old, the mortals and Fey made sacrifices to ensure a bountiful harvest.

        Kneeling before Lyceria, Kagura bowed her head in submission, even if it made her hackles rise. “A thousand apologies, Great Mother.”

      Lyceria remained unmoved by the goddess’s apology.

        Stepping away from the younger immortal, Lyceria turned to look across the mountaintop, her knowing eyes lovingly scanning across the city below. Catching the silvery fan of hair from her Chosen, Torien, the Warlord of Rhageon, Lyceria examined him as he peered down from the view from his tower.

         Lyceria frowned. She wished she could warn the Warlord of the trials ahead. But as she was still learning, to disrupt the flow of time would cause more harm than good.

         To be the Creator of the divinely complex race, Lyceria came to terms with the unnamed rules she must follow. There were mistakes she made in the past, which she mournfully acknowledges. Thinking of the genocide of the First Race, Lyceria gritted her teeth. It was her unfounded adoration of the Second Race, the mortals, that led to her most selfish mistakes. Why could she not have been content with the First Race? Why did arrogance befall her? She ventured to this lonely, blue-green planet to prevent the arrogance of the gods and instead, she was the catalyst.

 It seemed that one could not escape their fate even if they so will it.

        After a long moment of silence, the other goddess hesitantly disrupted Lyceria’s flow of thoughts. “May I inquire what you required of me, Great Mother?”

        Remembering the younger goddess’s presence, Lyceria jerked herself away from her reverie and turned back to Kagura, the hem of her dress soundless. “Yes. I have read the faces of the moon and found troubling news ahead. Promises of war, revelations, monstrosities, and the screams of million pale faces have flooded my visions. I need you and the others to prepare for the times to come. A shift will occur; where the hunted will become the hunters.”

        Nodding from her kneeled position, Kagura murmurs, “I understand. I will prepare. What shall I do about the others?”

       Kagura did not need to clarify who were the others. Lyceria and the other gods refused to her call her sister, Bemarisse’s creations any other name than others. Lyceria did not pause before stating, “Depending on the flow of events, their intervention will be necessary. Leave them for now.”

        Nodding once more, Kagura peered up at the other goddess before transforming into a spotted eagle. From her proud height, the goddess took off–her golden-brown shape disappearing into the white heaven of clouds.

        Looking back towards the yawning city, hearing the rustle and sighs as the people below woke from their slumber, an unnamed emotion spread across Lyceria’s divine face before she slipped back in the fold of time and space. 

Part 2:


Rhageon and Frysessa are the only two countries in the four kingdoms that acknowledge the old faith. Some town in Mycea that are closer to the Beser Desert do still follow the old faith.

Rhageon’s patron goddess is Lyceria (moon) and Frysessa’s is her brother, Zakar (sun).

Aestha and Mycea are both monotheistic but in Aestha, those who grew up farther away from the capitol and metropolitan cities, cling to the Old Gods–the gods the natives of Aestha followed before they were conquered.


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