Once again, the century turns, and Caelia makes yet another pilgrimage to the ruins of her ancient home to walk among its ghosts, and to curse the tomb of its Destroyer. But this time the tomb is empty, robbed of its corpse along with the sword she...
"Listen...perhaps you catch a hint of an ancient state of being not quite forgotten; dim, perhaps, and yet not altogether unfamiliar, like a song whose name was forgotten long ago." --from The Mystikon Oracle
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PLACE: MONAI EMPIRE – SLOPES OF MT. CHIOS
DATE: MELASKOTIA 22ND
Caelia stared upward into a dark winter sky, covered with racing clouds, portents of the bitter storm to come. For a brief moment the clouds broke, the gap dominated by Kalumna, the Veil galaxy. Icy winds whipped her hair about her face as she gazed at the glistening spiral with wistful longing, its light reflected in her melancholy eyes. Something about the Veil disturbed her soul yet filled her with unnamed yearning - ancient fragments of memories and images drifting across her awareness, unrecognizable and just beyond her reach.
Were they memories or dreams? she wondered.
The moment, however, was fleeting. Cold, dark clouds closed in once more to cover the great galaxy that ruled the Long Night. The stars vanished from her eyes.
She sighed and looked back down the dim, snowy slopes she had climbed earlier. Despite the darkness, there was just enough light for her to see she was being followed. She estimated all five of them should be nearing hypothermia by now, no matter how heavily they were dressed.
Natives, she mused absently, so vulnerable to extremes. Her hooded duster was enough for her. I wonder how they avoided going into hypnos?
Indifferent to her pursuers, she turned and continued her slow but sure climb up broken rock mixed with patches of ice and snow. Before long, a tall, dark cliff loomed up ahead of her, and she stopped at its base. Facing it, she bent her head backward to follow the sheer cliff straight up to where it faded into the dim light above.
In the low visibility, she ran her left hand along a section of the frozen rock face in front of her, searching. Her hand paused over a spot on the rock face and she pressed her palm against the stone, feeling its icy touch. Several moments passed, until finally a mirrored arch twice her height flickered in and out then appeared before her.
It still works, but barely.
As she was about to step through, she caught her reflection in the dark rippling mirror and stood still, transfixed before it.
Has it come to this?
What she saw was not how she appeared to others. She had grown comfortable in her adopted native skin and had almost forgotten the ancient woman staring vacantly back at her with deep red, translucent eyes.
Almost. Hello Aletheia, ancient queen of a dead race.
Her reflection had the appearance of a tall aging female with no hair. Her dry, gray body appeared to be made of stone and was pierced through with jagged cracks, as if the shell of her body had been shattered. Brilliant points of light shone through the cracks, and particles from her cracked body seemed suspended in the air within the mirror, revolving listlessly about her.
