"Son of Light: Prologue-Part 1" by Leigh *Shwin* Erickson

Silence soaked the land as if the great cistern containing its essence had split. It was absorbed into the ground like water into desert dust, it filled each eddying crevice in the stones, submerging them in its cloak. It filled the very air, not even a bird sang in this foreboding, chilling quiet, seeming to absorb into itself their very voices before they could leave their chests- if any had dared give utterance in the deep gloom.

Such carnage had never been seen in the history of Inath.

Maiel, grey and pained lay as far as the eye could see, their mouths open in anguished cries, their last breaths a welcome respite from the unfathomable torture their that had led to death. Unspeakable, maddening fear that had ripped the sanity from even the most stolid filled each eye, distorted each face. Despair was written on their faces as if some unknown evil had taken its grim pen to their souls. Men, women, children lay dead. Not one drew breath, not one was spared from an anguished death. It was a scene that not even ancient legend could boast.

There were no standing buildings. What was once a prosperous capital city, was now a desert of charred ruins, some still smoldering, others burnt to naught but grey ash which blew in smothering clouds whenever the wind stirred. The streets were black with faded blood and blocked with corpses, filled with ash and charred wood, broken glass of what had once been elaborate windows.

Utter desolation and an atmosphere void of hope filled the air. If there had been any living, the resilience would have faded from them with one breath of the tainted breeze.

Yet the suns shone.

A small, black silhouette abruptly crossed the void of sky and a piercing birdsong ripped the silence. It was a sparrow, a tiny shadow, wings outstretched defiantly against the gloom as if challenging it to strike it down, to cause its song to end. In the insignificant shadow of the bird, there rode on a sable horse, the only hope to the world of the Maiel, the Children of Stars, the beings of Light.

He followed the sparrow, his lifeline, the one sent by Yanna, Chancelloress of the Realm Between and Counselor of the Light to lead any survivors of this rumored butchery to her sanctuary. But it was far worse than even she could imagine, Hailar knew this. He was the sole survivor, the lone witness, the only one who could bring this to justice, to truth. He knew this, yes, but could hardly bear the burden. Even now his fair face was streaked with tears, half of rage, half of unchecked desperation and despair. He was well beyond the point of confusion and blunt betrayal. His own flesh and blood had caused this complete and terrible massacre. He no longer could trust, so transgressed by the one he felt he could give his complete confidence. The one he had thought pure, unable to be seduced by the dark that clouded the land.

Hialar’s eyes closed as he passed through the barren, wretched streets, blocking out the images that had burned themselves to his eyes. His hands worked in angry, dejected movements, coming to rest at regular intervals upon the glowing, white stone that hung from a braided, black leather cord around his neck. It was for this, this smallest of stones, that the dark had wrecked its havoc on this peaceful people.

Each time his hands brushed against the stone, he frantically seized it as if to keep it from eluding his grasp, from finding the dark that sought it. And each time it brought about a fresh course of bitter tears until his eyes were dry and his aching chest shook in dry sobs that would not be stilled. This stone had been his mother’s, the one who had betrayed his soul.

He could not bear that thought.

Quiet Laienna had been a Lady of Dark. One of the seven arch-Maiel who had near divine powers over this lack of light, the Maiel’s life source, she had taken the light-stone into her care with her husband, a Lord of Light, long ago at the creation Inath. But something, someone had turned her from the Light she so faithfully guarded and served to the long loathed and fatal power of the Dark. What or who this thing was not even Hailar knew, and he could not he guess. His mother’s turn had been so swift, so sudden... no one could have been prepared for her attack.

Hialar looked ruefully at his faded hand, painfully reminded of its throbbing ache as his memory refocused on it. The Dark was the most feared enemy of the immortal Maiel. They lived from Light- it was in their blood, it was their nourishment- they even emanated light in small quantities. To be surrounded by Dark would cause a Maiel to fade, this much was known, a death always painful, whose length was left to the whim of the attacker. Before Laienna’s slaughter however, fading-and ultimately the pure Dark- was just a theory. The Lords and Ladies of the dark had kept it contained and safely away from the Maiel of their realm. Until one Dark Lady had allowed the dark into her realm- and had allowed it to use herself as the fuel to birth the pure Dark. The Maiel of the Seventh realm had been the first to fade, beginning with Laienna herself, and then her Lord. Laienna held a hate in her soul, a deep, passionate hate. One she hid from even her Lord, nursing it from spark until it burned in her with a dark fire. This hate had fed the Dark.

Hialar had witnessed this with his eyes, with his soul. He could feel the light being ripped from the people, feel the fear they breathed. He shuddered at this memory, but did not block it, he would need every detail to bring this to justice.

The sparrow sang out once more, breaking his brooding trance. He opened his eyes to find that he was at the outskirts of the city. He drew a deep breath and passed through the crumbled gate in silent reverence to the dead, ready to face the fate that Light willed him to follow.

The sunlight would soon spread across the horizon, chasing all remnants of night from the blackened sky. At the far eastern horizon, the ebony waves were beginning to pale, the softest pinks and lavenders playing on their tips. Enveloped in this tranquillity, Chanya, light-bearer’s son, walked towards the shore. His hair hung in a silver stream around his face, reflecting in yet off-setting his icy eyes, the colour of winter’s first sky.

He walked along the sand filled path that led to the shore. To each side were the wild grasses and reeds that heralded the crashing spray, the plants hearty enough to take root amidst the shifting sands bordering his home. Scattered throughout the waving, bending mass were the Na’chai lilies, their petals just beginning to separate with the coming dawn. They were the blessing of Chai, the Light, to the Maiel; a reminder of its favour and enduring protection to them. They were so beautiful; the blossoms a translucent white glowing with a pale glimmer of pure light’s essence, the same as the Maiel carried within them. Chanya gave a silent prayer of thanks for their healing presence, touching a near-by blossom and watching it bloom under the power of his light.

He had always possessed a strong light, even for one of the arch-Maiel’s children. It had been known to strengthen the light of those around him, soothing their fears and healing their ills. Flowers, both wilting and yet to bloom, sprang open at his touch, especially the Na’chai lilies. It was an unexplained yet welcome phenomena among the Maiel of his home, the Realm Between. He shook his head remembering this and releasing the lily continued along the path.

He could see the sea now, glowing a pale pink with the radiance of the coming dawn. The shadows of night still clung to the near sides of the waves, melding with the light to form a metallic sheen that cast the sea into unspeakable beauty. He sighed deeply at this sight, the beauty of sunrise never failing to move him, but that wasn’t why he came to the shore every morning without fail. He came to commune with the Light, to be lost in the grip of the dawn.

He walked with steady feet out from the rolling dunes and onto the open expanse of sand that bordered the now glowing ocean. He scanned the shore, searching for any who would disturb his solitude, and once satisfied that he was alone turned to the right towards the massive rock that dominated the southern shore. A Selaseoth Umdeliah it was called, the Place of Meeting. It was more accurately a bolder, rising up in a sheer wall that towered over the sea which then fell back allowing for a great plain of sand. It was here that the Maiel gathered when there was need and here important events, ceremonies, and judgements were held. It was a mysterious place, no one knew how the stairs had been carved into the rock’s face, but it was said that they were the steps of the Light.

Chanya reached the base of the place and began to ascend the natural stairway. He was very familiar with their length having climbed them many times before. As Yanna’s child he had been involved in every aspect of the Maielian government since before he could remember; always accompanying the Chancelloress in her duties, learning and observing for the day when he would follow her.

As he came to the top of the Selase, the first sun, Hina, was just beginning to peak its brilliant head over the blanket of the horizon. It’s bright white light caught in the metallic sea, dancing with the waves and spreading its trail of molten frost over the ocean’s expanse giving the illusion of a solid walk way to the shimmering sun. He walked to the edge of the Selase, hair trailing in the sea salted wind, and sat there; knees to his chest, eyes closed to the rising sun.

Oh how he loved the dawn. The cool waves of morning air washing over him, slightly tinted with the smell of the sea. They invigorated his mind and body, chilling yet refreshing his soul, bringing life to his consciousness. It was so inspiring to watch as the light chased the dark from the sky, the slightest whisper of light from the horizon enough to disperse the endless black of night. It was a much needed reminder to him of what a single flame could do in the face of a great sea of shadow.

He felt the sunlight permeating his skin, reaching around and through him. He relaxed in its warmth, letting it sink into his body and refresh his light. Perhaps it was this daily communion with the Light that caused the unusual strength in his glow. He didn’t care, though, what it benefited his light, this meeting had become a part of him. Soon the second sun, Yomen, would rise, casting its faint silver light onto the now golden sea, bringing a sweet harmony to Hina’s golden melody. In was then, in this triumphant song of morning that Chanya would be lost to the Light, communing freely with its brilliance, letting it soothe his soul.

Hina had since left the horizon and had begun its daily climb through the sky when the horizon began to glow once more, heralding Yomen’s quiet rays. Chanya prepared himself, knowing that with the second sunrise he would no longer be in control of his thoughts or actions. It was slightly terrifying, letting the Light seize his consciousness, but he was willing to endure that fear- and that risk. Maiel had been known to never return from the dawn’s embrace, forever lost to the Light. It wasn’t a painful way to die, rather it was as if a door to paradise had been opened, the Maiel stepping through it without having to endure death. It was a far more appealing option than fading, the only other way the Maiel could die.

But it was not death that Chanya sought in the dawn’s embrace and the Light respected that, knowing that the maiel came only to commune with it and be refreshed. Chanya had little to fear from Pure Light, but it terrified him nonetheless. The horizon was enveloped in a fury of silver fire as Yomen rose from the metallic sea, casting its complementary light over the world; and over Chanya. He closed his eyes and laid back before his body was taken from him having woken with a sore bump on his head far too many times when the Light caught him unaware. He murmured a quick prayer to the Light asking it to protect and be merciful to him and then in complete trust allowed it to whisk away the barriers surrounding his soul.

It was always exhilarating, the first rush of Light into his senses, blocking all other thoughts, filling his mind with a molten river of gold and silver light. The colours of dawn danced in the river, the lavenders, pinks, and pale blues weaving themselves in with the metallic hues. He felt himself relax as his mind was completely enveloped. Oh the power he felt, flooding his being, spreading over every inch and filling each cell. He was completely lost to the grip of the dawn.

“Lanyano,” the voice was soft yet bursting with might, “Kel, lanyano.”

“Pareno, a Pelia Chai...” Chanya’s being moved towards the voice, the voice of the Light, the voice of the Pure Light.

“Kel, lanyano.” The voice surrounded him now as did the light. The brilliance was so soothing, so refreshing that he nearly cried out for joy. He was truly home.

Athar woke, cringing slightly at the pain in his arm. He’s have to learn not to sleep on it like that. He yawned and carefully massaging the pricks in the offending limb, sat up. Blinking in the metallic sunlight he realized it was past second sunrise. Yanna was already up, he saw, and probably waiting for him on the patio. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Why was he so tired? Normally he was up with the first sun, he should feel rested. Shaking his head he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He shrugged on a robe from his wardrobe and slipping on a pair of sandals, walked towards the door leading to the patio.

“You’re up late, Athar.” Yanna’s clear voice informed him.

“I know, I’ve been so tired lately.” He walked over to where she was sitting at the simple stone table set in the corner of the patio. Here, he could see the garden spreading in a glorious glow of colour towards the far wall. He loved it here, as did Yanna, and as such they met every morning to enjoy the sunrise in the garden. “Chanya out?”

Yanna sighed worriedly. “Where else would he be, Athar?” She looked down, a lock of brown hair falling into her fair face.

Athar sat beside her. “He’ll be all right.”

“I know, I just get so worried. I don’t know what I would do if he were gone.”

He wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “We don’t have to worry about that. The Light won’t take him and the Dark can’t.”

“I know, Athar, I just can’t help but worry with all the reports coming in from all over the seven realms. What would we do if the Dark came here? Especially with your-”

“Shhh, it’s too early to be talking this deep. And I don’t want to talk about it, not now.” His blue eyes met her silver green ones pleadingly, “Please?”

She sighed. “We’ll have to talk about it sometime, Athar. We can’t run from it forever.”

“I know.” his voice was even more weary, laden with worry and a deep hopelessness. “I know.”

When Chanya awoke he was lying as he had been on the Salase. He rubbed his face in his hands, brushing the remnants of the trance from his eyes, revelling in the clarity of his thought and the wellness that seemed to fill his blood. He sat up and stretched his arms luxuriously as one just awoken from a deep and relaxing sleep. Yomen was just above the horizon. To the one held by the Light, it seemed like a small eternity from consciousness to consciousness whereas in reality it was a matter of minutes; a wonderful conversion allowing the embracee to feel as though he had just spent an unaccountable amount of time in communion with the Light and yet still have the entire day before them.

He stopped suddenly in mid-stretch, all the words spoken in the few minutes he had brushed with eternity pouring through his mind. Snatches of a prophecy and of the coming Darkness and of sacrifice and fading filled his thoughts in a mad torrent causing him to bring his hands to his head in an effort to stop them all.

“Selar!” he cried, “Silence!” and the torrent stilled. He closed his eyes and slowly stood, brushing his thick, outer robe with his hands. He shook his head. He would have to talk to Yanna about this. She’d understand. The prophecy was familiar to him, he thought, beginning his descent from the Selase, eager to speak with his mother. She had often recited it to him, insuring that it was fully memorized and respected.

He reached the path quickly, just as the Na’chai lilies were beginning to bloom. Their scent, sweeter than any other thing known on Inath wafted around him in the breeze, soothing his flustered mind slightly. Their presence was always calming, a reminder that the Light was always in control, ever ready, and always there. “Thank you” he murmured speeding up the path towards his home.