Aspiring fiction author here to play around with ideas for my larger upcoming projects. Critiques and criticisms welcome!
Aspiring fiction author here to play around with ideas for my larger upcoming projects. Critiques and criticisms welcome!
The walls around them trembled, bits of the ceiling rained down. Running through the rows of benches in the Old Church, the couple cared nothing for reverence at this time; they knew what little time they had left couldn't be spent on formalities.
Thalorin stopped them at the front of the benches. "He already knows. He's trying to reverse it."
Orlithsir put a hand on his pistol. "How long has he been at it?"
"Mind your tongue, executioner! High Lord Carrsa has been working tirelessly for the last five days! He knew of these events long before we did. We should be grateful that he tries to save us instead of joining his brethren and abandoning us."
"While that does bring us comfort, dear Churchead," Zetharrin stepped between the two, "the fissions are expanding. The world is breaking and our people are dying. If there is nothing that we three can do, especially to help High Lord Carrsa, the world will die and we will lose everything we've built."
Just when Thalorin was about to answer, High Lord Carrsa walked out to them, holding a small, newborn child. He sighed, smiled, and turned to his three loyal officials. "My friends. I present the solution to fix our world." He held the baby to see. "Behold! This one is called Kaelithem!"
"The Keeper of Threads." Zetharrin translated.
"Correct, my Goldflow. I've come to learn that the end of this world is the work of my brethren. It is believed a world unified under my rule is one that cannot be tolerated. It is believed that the masses can rule better than I." The three stood in silence; they understood what was about to happen and what would need to be done.
"When their divided world falls and its people are thirsting for the blood of another, the Keeper of Threads will mature and take her rightful place in the New World."
"What of our people, my lord?" Orlithsir asked. "What will become of them?"
"In order for the New World to thrive under Kaelithem's charge, all must relinquish their spirit. Even us. When she arrives to the broken and divided world, she will pull the buried remnants of this one out from under it and open the minds of all who belong to our congregation. Our spirits will be quick to join her and we will see a unified world." High Lord Carrsa handed the child off to Orlithsir. "Be with her. All of you." The others nodded. "Go now. I must finish this."
High Lord Carrsa walked out of the Old Church, leaving his four subjects behind. When he opened the door, he welcomed the end of his world. "Let the rivers grow and form the oceans that will separate the people. Let the island chains grow further apart. When you see the new age tear itself to shreds, hear the words of my people testify against you. Rejoice in Unity!"
The last words were followed by the earthquakes tearing the Old Church down the middle. The once mighty empire on the ancient supercontinent became a barren wasteland as the lands drifted apart.
The threads in her hands keep her broken world together. Through her dark, crystalline eyes, she gains the sight from the creatures that follow her. Though her world had suffered, she knew her part in rebuilding it: bring all the lands back together. She needed her following, though. The creatures could only do so much, finding the cohorts and killing the ones who didn't belong. She needed her people.
She waved her hand in front of her, summoning the fireflies that shaped themselves into her executioner. When he stood in front of her, she glared at him. "Is. She. Dead?" He dropped to his knees in silence. "Unbound by time and unaffected by their plane and she still managed to evade us?" From the earth protruded roots which the executioner grabbed and ripped up with ease. He stood back up and ran his thumb over the blade of his new axe.
He then threw it in the direction she faced and turned back to her. "I will not fail you, old friend." With that, the fireflies the composed his body dispersed in every possible direction. The obsidian muscles around her eyes crunched together. "I'm beginning to disbelieve that."
The man in the dark coat began his journey from the dock. The time was 3:27 AM. He knew his audience would be joining him shortly. Leaving a box on the edge of the dock, he jumped down and landed on the water, not sinking but standing as though he were standing on stone. As the wind picked up, he began walking out into the darkness. He walked for 3 minutes, though it felt as though he'd been walking for 50 years. He wasn't fatigued, just unburdened by the passing of time.
He knew his ritual had been successful because, after his three minutes, two bolts of lightning illuminated the dark night sky and two figured walked toward him. One took the form of a young girl, no older than 13 or 14. The other was an older man wearing a prisoner's jumpsuit. Both were glowing a dim light. When the three came together, the water underneath them swirled into a vortex; they continued to stand on the surface.
"Are you ready?" The girl asked.
The man in the dark coat nodded.
The two figures glanced at each other, then back at the man in the dark coat. They spoke in unison.
"Rejoice in unity!"
The man in the dark coat began slowly sinking into the vortex under him, his skin and bones becoming translucent to the point where his figure was only his dark coat.
The figures turned to each other again. "Release the wild." He said to her. "Open the doors." She said to him. Another pair of lightning bolt flashed, and the open water was calm again.
