Caelestis

“Click, clack. Click, clack.”

The sound of shoes with metal soles applied delicate pressure to the wooden floors of the building. A man adorned in fitted attire walked through the planks of a narrow passageway, a long robe trailing delicately behind him. Where did this path lead? To a place known only to him.

His clothing—themed in blue, red, and black—blended harmoniously, accenting the vibrant crown that sat firmly upon his head. It seemed to tame the strands of hair floating graciously in the slight breeze. This was the grace of a king, a king set out to rule a people with great power. To those in the path of righteousness, he was benevolent and merciful. But to those who held airs of deception and injustice, it was as though a devil had been released from its hinges, with no mercy to spare.

This was Evander Elrok.

An iron door came into view soon after. With a flick of his hand, a mysterious pendant appeared in thin air, placing itself on the handleless door. It lit up in vibrant colors identical to the clothing he wore, and the door opened with a slight creak. Evander entered, leaving the door to close alone and the peculiar pendant to follow.

“Have you opened the gates?” Evander questioned, his gentle voice floating through the surprisingly large room, yet loud enough to reverberate within those walls.

“Yes,Van. The Star Seeds have been safely transported to a place where they may receive the protection needed to allow the Prophecy of Gaia to be fulfilled,” responded a man further in the room.

As Evander walked further, a large table with eight thrones appeared. Each had a different sign encrusted on the top, and an individual was seated upon them.

“And what of the Ophiuchus?” he asked.

A man on a different seat responded, “We have made sure each of the pieces has been placed in locations where only those called upon will find them.”

“Good,” he responded in kind.

“Are we sure this will work?” A pale-skinned woman dressed in a purple and red dress raised her question. “Desire, you of all people know that the Sun and Moon need utmost protection for them to bloom and take their places in the stars! If we plant them in the wrong soils, they might-”

Before she could finish, another beauty, dressed in a teal piece of clothing that moved as though it were alive, spoke in an unamused manner.

“You are always so negative, Anaya. Where else do you think we would have placed them? We are at WAR! The entire world is covered in endless bodies! Rivers of blood flood the streets as we speak, and when we finally have just a single glimmer of hope, you decide to express such an unwanted scenario out loud. This is the time to think in a level-headed manner and weigh the options we have. Do not act like it is you who has lost the most.”

The woman in teal silenced the lady in red, Anaya, gaining a few glances of sympathy directed to the man with the crown, and then back to the throne next to him—a throne that appeared to have lost its once beautiful aura, replaced with gloom. There were eight thrones in the room, but only seven were occupied.

“Majesties, the Fallen are here!”

A guard in armor ran through a swirling mass of energy to report, voice raised in a slight panic. His hands were trembling, yet he tried to keep up the appearance of a brave warrior. Death was a frightening presence. When he entered the room, no matter how strong an individual was, they would still feel the breath of ice running down their bodies.

They all knew they would die today, no exceptions. But for the sake of the prophecy, they had to gain the strength to persevere, or the entire world would fall into a darkness unknown to mankind. This was not what they wanted, not after witnessing the effect of such sorrow first-hand during the Night that Smiled upon the Egregious.

“We must go stop them now. The Sun and Moon are still in transportation, and it will take some time to erase any and all traces of them,” spoke a man dressed in all white.

“Indeed, we must make haste if we want any of this to succeed,” spoke a man in a navy and black uniform.

As these words were uttered, all seven individuals got up and made their way towards the mass of energy—the movement portal—and entered one by one. When the seven walked through, they appeared on a hill of blood and dust. Fate knows how this very place once held fields of flowers and all that was enchanted, but now it had become a wasteland containing remains of the ongoing destruction.

It was all to end today. Before them, an army of men wearing smiles tainted with horrors untold awaited. They were led by the man who caused it all: That Which Is Shrouded in Darkness.

Facing each other, sparks of the unnatural and the natural realms wavered through the air and clashed together. A single arrow from those who were called righteous led to an incalculable massacre. Sword against sword, magic against magic, spirits against spirits. Ancient powers were at play, yet it was all like a breath of air to manipulate them for those on the field. One by one, the numbers decreased and fell. Dropping like flies with each second ticking on the clocks of history, yet no effort was made to retreat from either side.

It was a war to determine the path to the end.

The seven sovereigns, with all the power they held, eventually lay on the battlefields with incurable wounds and detached limbs. The only ones with the slimmest chances of survival were the King and the one who caused it all.

“Isn’t it funny? We swore to face THEM together, and yet here we are on opposite sides,” laughed the Man of Darkness.

“Why?” asked the King, a solemn expression pasted on his face.

The Man in Darkness responded, “I don’t know. It all started as curiosity, but I guess the fear of the unknown hit me, and I chose options I wish I could take back.” His eyes glistened with what seemed to be teardrops. “But I can’t now, can I? It’s a bit too late after all this,” he said, a small laugh leaving his lips as he looked around the chaos. The sovereigns had passed on, leaving the two of them to find comfort in their conversations.

“I wish we had more time,” spoke the King. “It’s been a while since we could sit this comfortably and speak together.”

“The world is about to take a turn for the worst, isn’t it? Is this my first win against you since some time ago, brother?” said the Man in Darkness.

“Wrong, Kylios. The seedlings have already been sown; with enough time, they will germinate,” replied Evander.

A look of shock crossed Kylios’s face. “Who would—” A look of realization dawned on him as he saw his brother’s face, and he laughed maniacally.

“THEY WERE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME ALL ALONG AND YET I FAILED TO RECOGNIZE THEM,” he hollered, failing to control the excitement he gained at his righteous older brother’s trickery. “Well, you won this round. Looks like this war is yet to truly begin, isn’t it?”

Evander spoke, a bright smile on his face with sparkles in his eyes. Slowly, a drowsiness—one he knew he would not wake up from—overtook him.

As his consciousness faded, Kylios spoke words that shocked his brother. “How can I help? It’s the least I could do after all this, for you, and to get back at those bastards.”

A smile crossed the older brother’s face. “I guess there is one thing... a little bit of ‘too much’ never hurts anyone, right?”

Evander laughed along with his brother, who soon realized what it meant.

“Yeah, it never did, and it won’t hurt them,” they chuckled.

A few minutes passed, and both brothers soon were holding each other in their arms, sharing stories from childhood to pass the time they had left.

“If time could turn back, how gladly I would choose this family of mine,” whispered Kylios.

But no one replied; his brother was gone. And if anyone had replied, he would not hear it either, for those were the last words he uttered before entering an eternal slumber.