When I was a child, the pitter-patter of the rain on the log I slept in put me to sleep within seconds. But alas, my child is not me and could not fall asleep for the life of her, not without a story. And so, I obliged every night. I sat down next to her as she half hid her face under the covers in anticipation, and shared with her the myth of The Destined Warriors. A personal favourite of mine. The rain picked up to a downpour as I began the tale.

“From birth to eventual death, the world has always had a saviour. Warriors, as they’re known throughout the many myths and fables. The first to give their all for the sake of mankind was Ace, the first and only true Warrior who held back the sun. No one knows for sure how he did it, but the most generally accepted answer is this. Ace stood atop the highest peak, so high he couldn’t even breathe! And as he stood, counting the seconds until he ran out of breath, he picked up his axe, an axe larger than any seen before or after. With this wondrous axe, Ace swung it directly at the incoming star, blindingly bright and scorchingly hot, and held firm for minutes. As his lungs ran low and his vision faded, he pushed everything he had into his axe. All of his strength, all of the people’s prayers, and all of his children’s futures. He pushed so hard that he sent the sun soaring back into the sky and space. Back to where it rests to this day. And so the legend of Ace, the Starshield, was born.”

“More!” My little Lazuli begged, her bright blue eyes glowing like her namesake. “The story has nine warriors, not one.” She said with a straight face. She had me there, I just couldn’t leave her waiting for more, she might never sleep again if I did. Truthfully, it’s a story I do so love retelling for her.

“Mm, alright. But we aren’t doing all ten of them, deal?” A slip of the tongue. Little Lazuli nodded her head as fast as she possibly could, ever the ball of energy. “Centuries later, or some say even millennia, the world had been saved by two more Warriors. Duost, Cleaver of Glaciers. And Triune the Many.”

“I want to hear those stories, too!” She said. I wouldn’t trade her for the world, but I do wonder how she came from someone as calm as myself.

“Another night, I promise. You have a big day tomorrow, remember?”

“You still haven’t told me what’s so important about tomorrow.” Her voice grew irritated, she hated surprises.

“You’ll see, now, back to the story. A few hundred years after The Many, the world was once again in need of a hero. But as the end approached, none such hero showed. Was the era of the Warriors at an end? Had the Gods felt the world had run its course? Of course not, I’m here talking to you right now, after all! As the dark nothingness crept along the earth swallowing everything in its wake, a woman rose from the ground, tearing through the dirt. Her skin was grey and her hair had all but fallen out, with cracks and broken skin covering her naked body. This woman rose from her grave and turned to face the crowd of terrified onlookers and gave them the softest, warmest smile any had ever seen. They watched, mystified as if entrances by a siren, as this undead woman walked into the wave of darkness. She was swallowed immediately. None know what happened in that void, but those who witnessed it claim the darkness began to fold inward, eating itself as if it were trying to purge the void of her warmth, until eventually… Poof. Those in attendance cleaned up her gravestone and restored her name once more. Thus, Shisui the Accursed was made. We can thank the ruling church at the time for her Warrior name.” I took a deep breath and went to continue the story, retelling it all from memory when thunder rolled outside Lazuli’s bedroom window. She shivered underneath the blankets, her lip quivering. I bit my lip in kind, drawing a small bit of blood.

“I-I’m not scared, keep going!” She said, her eyes squeezed shut. I had to raise my voice ever so slightly to be heard over the increasingly intense deluge outside.

“Storms are your friend, Lazuli. But very well, I think this one is a fitting end to tonight’s tale. A long, long time after Shisui’s age came to an end, and only a hundred years ago from right now, begins the legend of Octane. A noble warrior who led the first Sayada army. Octane was blessed with the ability to control the storms, redirecting the lightning with his bare hands. The people rejoiced, safe in the knowledge that their saviour was known and oh so powerful. Fast forward a decade, and Octane had won many battles and created more than his fair share of stories. No doubt you’ve heard of him around the playground, right? But, as the world began to show signs of another cataclysm, he was struck down in battle. A single arrow pierced his neck, a chilling reminder that even blessed by the gods, he was still a mere mortal. The death of Octane shook everything to the core. The saviour had died, killed by a man now known as Hadrick the Hunted, but that’s a tale for another day. Exactly one year from the day Octane was killed, the sundering began. Days went by as the world split in two, a massive chasm forming from east to west, with every person believing life to be truly over once the ends connected. And then, it stopped. One man sat at the eastern end of the tear, sitting cross-legged with one hand gripping the earth on each side. Nobody knows who he was, or why he waited so long, but he sits there to this very day, a statue holding the earth together. For his sacrifice, he became affectionately known as The Nobody, with many arguing whether he should be considered one of the great Warriors or not. I think so, don’t you?”

“Yes! He was a little late, but he still saved everyone!”

“He did, and in doing so created the awe-inspiring Depthless Chasm. Now, time for bed, Zuli.” I put out the lantern and kissed her on the forehead.

“Aw… You promise you’ll tell me the other stories tomorrow?”

“I promise.” I pulled the covers up to her neck and left the room. I hated lying to her, more than anything. Did Ace go willingly up that mountain? Did Shisui rest in peace knowing she would one day give her very soul to the gods? Did The Nobody lie to the ones he loved? Maybe that’s why he arrived so late, maybe he was spending what little time he had left with his family. I should have asked you more about him, dad, he deserved more than for his name to die with you. Maybe I should have told Lazuli just one more story. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

I grabbed my black umbrella and opened the door to the raging typhoon outside. I was soaked through within seconds but kept the umbrella shut. Not here, not now. I walked over the plains for what must have been hours, the water forming a shallow river beneath me as it raced down the sloped fields. Any crops that had been planted were surely drowned, along with who knows what else. I dared not think about it further. With great effort, I climbed the steep hill up to a small plateau. Finding any grip was near impossible through the flood. I must have been walking for hours as dawn had begun to break over the horizon, the blackened clouds appearing all the darker. I took the umbrella in both hands, staring at it as if it were my child. My Lazuli. In a few hours, you will wake up to a new day, a new life, and a new tale to tell. I hope you can live a life free of fear, knowing your mother bought you enough time to live every day to the fullest. I released the umbrella and raised it high, breathing deeply with eyes closed as I waited. Minutes passed without incident. Had I done something wrong? Had I interpreted my dreams so poorly? Had I left my daughter to die, scared and alone?

And then I saw it. A single black feather floating down in front of me, landing in my free hand. And a second later, I heard it. A thousand beating wings all flocking toward me like a curtain of black signifying that the show was over. My ravens. I let the feather drop and held my hand outstretched to the oncoming hoard, ushering them to take up my cause. Closer and closer they approached until they were only a few feet away from me. Moving as one, the ravens turned skyward, forming a living vortex around me as they rose and spread in all directions, blotting out the clouds. Minutes passed until finally the last of them rose above me. The world had gone blacker than night, every inch of the sky covered by my birds as they held the flood at bay. In place of the downpour, feathers fell from the sky like snow all across the land.

As the hours went by, so too did my strength. I fell to one knee, keeping the umbrella held skyward. By now, you’re almost certainly wondering where your mom has gone. But I’m sorry, Lazuli. I’m so, so sorry. I won’t be home in time to tell you the rest of the stories. More and more of my strength faded, leaving only enough to stay upright and hold up the sky. I so desperately wished to cry, to scream for her to come to me, to just whisper goodbye. But I was too weak, neither words nor tears would come. A white, clouded sky shone through cracks in the sea of ravens, the flood was over. I collapsed to the ground, my eyes closing as dozens of ravens landed next to me.

I’ll be watching over you always, Lazuli, from the halls of Valhalla.

——

“And so ends the tale of Onyx, Mother of Ravens, who gave her life to repel the Final Flood.” The girl closed her book as a crowd of children and parents alike watched on in awe. They cheered for her rendition of the legend, a far more grounded version than the others. The blue-eyed woman returned to her home across the street and prepared to feed the shining black bird as it flew in from the next room. It landed on her shoulder, eagerly accepting the grains.

“Slow down Onyx, there will be food aplenty for tomorrow.” She scolded the bird, placing a hand over its smooth feathers. The raven cocked its head to her and nuzzled itself against her cheek.