The Herald

“It doesn't matter what you do... so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.”

― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“We will take your power upon us, Illuriel,” answered the sisters in unison. It is those moments in an Immortal’s life where some reflexive formality locks the words in place, as if practiced.

Relief flickered in Illuriel’s fading eyes. “I, Illuri-” a shot of agony shot through him, and he cried out, breaking into a coughing fit. When he spoke, some of the whisper behind his words was gone, as if he was already fading. “I, Illuriel, do give my mantle to the Aspects Sun and Moon, and with it I confer my memories and magic.”

From that same reflex, they replied, “We accept. Do you confer your Power unto us?”

His eyes flickered again. “No. The Power of The Old Ones cannot be contained. I will let it flow into the world, and perhaps guard this world a little longer... but I do not think it willmake much of a difference.”

The Sisters bowed their heads in acceptance, and Illuriel sighed contentedly. “So this is how it ends...”

A ripple went through reality, reaching beyond even the Universe. In a land of nothingness, presences stirred from a long slumber.

One presence, with a voice reminiscent of ocean waves, made itself known.

Our                        child

oldest                                  passed...

has

The Herald                             his

has

completed                task...

Now                the                                        return.

is                        for

time               our

Another presence stirred, and replied with a voice of falling rain.

Howcan wereturn if The Maker’s plan has begun?

We will be barred from our returnif all falls into place as he planned it.

Even our eldest was fooled into thinking that his plan would save the Universe.

No, I think it will be risky. If we fail, then it will matternot what the Aspects do.

What can we do without a form?

The first voice answered.

We                        agreed,

are

then.

The                of                   last            is                          even                      would

power            the                        spell    far               than         The Maker’s

Herald’s                       greater                                         be.

It          holds                        after                                 and                The Warrior.

still                           even                          our daughter

potency,                awakening                      summoning

We                                    into    and                    physical

can channel    energy                 use   to

that                   us,             it     take            form.

        The second voice thrummed again, and spoke with a more concentrated voice.

The Herald’s Poweris indeed great.

It is certainly enough for us to shape into forms, we alreadyhave the ability to do so.

For the first time, we will be able to see our descendants. We will be able to say “hereis where we are,” for the first time.

The shapeless darkness rippled and coiled as the first presence shifted in what can only be described as a nod.

Indeed     will.

we

I       already feel                flowing through us.

can                    the power

May those who oppose us tremble in fear, for The First Ones are Ascendant!

        On a throne of silver and gold The Creator sat, his eyes flickering with streaks of white. He laughed, and through it corruption could be heard. “My brother, finally, has died. The foolish, trusting idiot actually thought that my plan was to save the Universe, right up until the end.” He lifted a hoof, seeing the ripples of power that warped around him as he did.

        The tendrils of shadow that once marked The Herald’s presence gripped the throne from the Shadow below, and The Creator looked at them amusedly. “Your Power has already submitted to me, fool. Why will yourmind and soul not give in?” He struck a tendril with his hoof, expecting it to vanish at the touch of such an almighty being.

        But the mind and soul of The Herald would never give in. They receded, but a faint memory of The Herald gave a warning that shook The Creator to his core. “Fear me, brother, for I am the Firstborn of The First Ones.”

        The Palace of Two Sisters stood in crumbling ruin still, and would stay that way until the end of Time itself. But it lay on a crucial spot in world, a place where a great many ley lines met, the strands of power that The Mage had used to weave The Maker’s Creation together. For one thousand years, the shard of her soul that was Harmony had rested on it, making this a place where The Mage’s presence was greatest.

        And when the ripple from The Herald’s death crashed through this convergence of power, it did not pass through. Instead, the ripple was somehow sucked in, splashing around like an angry ocean. With the ripple went a shard of The Herald’s Power, and into the convergence his Power went.

        To those who could see the work of The Mage, it was like gold ink had been poured through the ley lines, turning green to swirling gold. The gold slowly crept through the lines, making their way to the convergence. The green was not absorbed, but pushed inward to the convergence into an ever brighter star. And when the gold finally reached the convergence, the green had nowhere to go... but out.

        And out the power did go.

        The star of green ripped its way out of the fabric of the world, letting new seams of gold take its place. As it entered the world, it dimmed and shook, warping into a form befitting an Immortal.

        The Mage opened her green eyes, piercing her cloak of rippling white mist. “I am The Mage Reawakened, and I heed the call of The Herald.”