Chapter 1 - Wings of Ravens

Whelp thanks for taking a look at this everyone! I will of course always take grammar corrections, but I care more about your thoughts, feelings, and ideas about how this whole things reads. It was supposed to be a Prologue but... well... it got long. I will still probably do a prologue, but I turned this into a chapter instead. The main chunk of the story takes places a few hundred years after the events below, but this does a good job at setting things up. I know its a bit long in comparison to some things I have seen posted on this site, so if you just want to read it and give me a quick blurb on your feels I would VERY much appreciate it, thanks!

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Har'Gahn Mountain, Heart of the Mother

The mountain boomed and thundered, the after math of an impact causing it to rumble and shake for minutes afterward. Sheadon could feel the vibrations running through his body with each successful hit. He'd always thought of the mountain as impenetrable, unmovable, a veritable fortress of stability in a broken world. It's lone stoic peak piercing the heavens as a testament to the earth’s power; to the Mother's Power. But now the priest's very idea of stability was being challenged and shaken to the core.

Another explosion shook the tunnel he hurried down. The shockwave sent him stumbling, and his fingers desperately scrambled along the rocky wall, trying to find some handhold to grab onto. As the shockwave passed he steadied himself, and quickly made a small prayer for protection, crossing his fingers in front of his chest in a sign to The Mother. Even as he made the ritualistic gesture a small seed of doubt blossomed in his heart. Would she be able to help? Would she be able to do anything? Even now his head ached with all the twisted magic and spells that permeated the air. He could feel even more being unleashed at a steady pace. Magic was being hurled back and forth as the mountain defenders sought to drive back their attackers.

The doubt grew a little more, and with a frightened snarl he squashed the fear. Clamping down on his own twisting thoughts he banished the inquiries that gripped at his soul, not allowing them, to surface anymore. He would not let his faith be shaken, he resolved within his heart. She would come through, and he would serve her until dying breath.

Pushing himself forward he continued to make his way along the rocky tunnel, the uneven footing not even noticed as he hurried along. The mountain continued to shake and groan under the stress of the bombardment. Specks of rock and debris rained from above him, showering him in powder and dust, and calling forth sneezing fits as he made his way along.

Finally he stumbled into a large cavern. It looked to be a natural rock formation, with sweeping walls that rose fifty feet into the air. A large double door stood to the far end. Twenty feet high and carved out of solid wood, its surface was a maze of carvings and pictures. Depictions going back to the dawn of creation were woven into the large doors, the entire structure a story of creation and rebirth. High above the chamber a single crystal glowed, slowly spinning and rotating it cast light below, its magical energies releasing illumination to every part of the cavern. But even it was struggling to maintain balance against the onslaught of magic that permeated the air. Sheadon noticed the occasional flicker from the magical crystal, which could only mean the enemy, was getting closer, and time was running out.

A small group of women clothed in gray stood before the door, and as one they turned to look at him. "He comes Sisters," they whispered together. "He heralds the end, he walks on the wings of ravens and the call of wolves."

Sheadon hesitated as the whole group titled their head in unison, and as one parted like water before him. "The Sisters wait," they intoned again, "and the lovers grow restless. What will the Fates say of you raven walker. The hour of your fall will be the birds cry. You are Raven Walker, cursed to tread on the feathers of death."

He knew a binding when he saw it. These women had tied themselves together, something not easily done, and something that could never be broken. Their souls were forever knit as one, no longer induvial but part of a larger whole. It spoke of desperation, and the inevitability that he knew was coming. But what caused him to hesitate were their words, a prophecy maybe? Or the promise of an end.

Another shockwave cause him to hurry forward to the big doors, placing one palm on their surface he whispered, "Illuminate my soul and open to me." The wood shifted, different carvings swimming and moving through the ancient grains of oak as an opening slowly parted, just large enough for him to fit through. He scurried through and stepped into a small chamber, visibly breathed a sigh of relief as the magical tension in his head dissipated.

The enchantments in the room held strong, shielding the occupants from the magical energies that swirled all around. A large balcony graced the far end of the chamber. Its curtains open and two people standing on its edge, facing toward the outside and the battle that swirled below. Their bodies were bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, and the fading light seemed to dance around their heads like crowns of fire as the glowing sun slipped down towards it place of slumber.

Seven women stood behind the couple, their simple gray robes showing them to be Sisters as well. The only difference between the ones outside were the simple flowers they had braided in their hair. The blossoms were woven like small crowns, so entwined they looked to be growing out from the women's heads.

He bowed low as he approached, and paused before the women, unsure if he should speak or not. The oldest woman motioned him forward. She was a bit shorter than the rest. Her aged face still strong and beautiful, her emerald eyes sparkling with a burning intensity as he whispered, "Say it, speak what you have come to say."

"The walls fail Great Ones," Sheadon said, his voice shaking with fear as he wiped beads of sweat from his head. He addressed the couple that still didn't face him, but he knew they were listening. "The armies of our enemies are too great, and the god's themselves march on the fields of battle. Syntyma, your Holy Temple was breached when I left, your altar was torn down and your worshippers lay broken and scattered. The enchantments fail and crumble, and your priests are dying by the hundreds. It will not be long before they breach the mountain and pour into your heart like ants." He hesitated for a moment, the struggle of what to say next swirling inside his thoughts. Finally he blurted, "You must flee while you can, open a Passage and run while there is still time."

The couple didn't move, but the woman slowly answered. "It is too late for that. Finer casting is all but impossible in this torrent of magical power, even for us. The Weaves I can manage struggle to hold together, every thread twisting and straining against the power in the air. Never before has such an onslaught been unleashed, and the earth cries beneath the pressure. Even here, in my seat of power, there is little I can do." She slowly turned her head and looked at them all with a sad smile.

For a moment Sheadon forgot to breathe so overwhelmed was he by the beauty of her face. It wasn't even just the way she looked, but the way he felt as he gazed at her. Dark blue eyes rolling with unseen power like the deepest parts of the sea, brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders like the rippling fields in spring. Her voice was the calm of a rushing brook, but each word held the roll of a thunder clap. As he watched the sadness on her face he felt the rush of winter and the promise of death, and as he finally let out a breath it fogged before him, her sadness causing the room to slowly cool and freeze.

The man beside her took a hand. Where she was nature, he was pure power. Where she was the roar of the ocean, he was the thunder of hoofs and the promise of blood. To look upon his black eyes was to see the wings of ravens and in his white smile were the canines of wolves. His black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and though he wore no armor Sheadon doubted any blade could pierce the rippling muscle that moved beneath his thin linen shirt. A single sword was strapped to his back, and even though the enchantments of the room protected everyone from the oppressive magic that rang all around, when Sheadon glanced at the sword his very soul quelled in terror.

"We will crush all who enter your heart my love," he growled. The sound of his words caused Sheadon to shrink in fear. His heart seemed to slow, and the pumping blood in his body seemed to thicken with unspoken dread. "I will cut them down one by one, each death will exalt you."

"Stay with me then Rhyfel," she whispered, and the words caused a small breeze to swirl in the chamber. "Stay by my side and we will curse the others until the earth itself is no more. Let us take the thing they want and drain it of all life, let us take its power and unleash a curse on them all."

"Mother," the oldest lady suddenly said, "if I may be so bold."

Rhyfel turned to look at her, the blackness of his eyes seeming to swallow the room in darkness, and the old woman seemed to shrink before his gaze. The Mother placed a hand on her loves shoulder and he slowly looked away, the darkness and heaviness fading with a sigh. "Speak Sister," the Mother intoned, "what would you say?"

"A binding," the old lady rasped, "Let us do a binding, we would bind ourselves to you."

Sheadon flinched as Rhyfel threw back his head and roared with laughter. The very sound cut through the air like a knife. It sliced to the very core of those in the room and they all staggered for a brief moment. The Mother didn't move, she stood frozen, though if she was confused or in thought Sheadon couldn't tell. "Foolish crones," Rhyfel crowed, "you would not survive a binding! Your very souls would be consumed, your magic would be twisted into weaves of power and your lives would be the fire that stoked her power."

"We know," the old woman said, standing a bit straighter, her chin jutting out with pride. "Our lives are the only sacrifice worthy of the Mother."

"Worthy," Rhyfel hissed, whirling on the old woman. She flinched again, but the Mother's hand stayed her love from caring out whatever plan he had.

"I could not ask you to do such a thing," she whispered, each word the sound of a raindrop as it strikes water, each word rippling with power.

"And we know you would not ask, that is why we offer, it is all we have to give." The other women nodded, some even voicing their consent with small pleas.

"It would not be enough to tear the weaves of magic arrayed against us," Rhyfel said with a snarl, "at most it would only add hours to our battle."

"And maybe it would add the head of a God to your feet," one of the sisters whispered, her eyes shining with malice.

Rhyfel's lips curled over pearly canine teeth as he grinned. "Now that would indeed be a worthy sacrifice."

The mountain gave another teetering groan, and Sheadon saw a spiral of magical fire go spinning by the balcony. The balcony was warded from sight and shielded from attack, but he wondered quietly how much longer it would hold. The Mother froze again, her hand clutching at her chest as she whispered, "They have almost breached the outside, and they will soon enter my heart." Her eyes seemed to glaze over as if she was looking to a place none of them could see. A slow snarl twisted her beautiful features as she hissed, "Even here in my heart I can barely hold them back. To think the others would rise in such a way. Never have they joined forces like this before!"

"They are spurned by us, and they know that only together could they hold a candle to your power. I will hold them off as long as I can," Rhyfel purred as he slowly reached out and caressed the Mother's face. The two stared into each other's eyes, freezing time for but a moment. "I do this for you," the man hummed with a click of his sharp teeth.

"You do it for us," she whispered back. Their kiss was quick, light, and the intensity of it was like a jolt of lightning.

"You two have gone too far," a small, childlike voice suddenly said. Sheadon leapt forward in surprise, he whirled around, stumbling away from a small boy that seemed to materialize out of the shadows behind him.

"Spieler, "Rhyfel breathed as he stepped in front of the Mother. The seven sisters had also moved forward, arraying themselves in front of the lovers. "I will enjoy gutting you."

The small boy grinned playfully as he titled his head in question. "I do not come to joust with either of you," he said with a small giggle. "I come to offer you a deal."

Rhyfel reached behind his back and drew his sword in one fluid movement. The blade sang as it was released from the sheathe, the sound of blood splattering echoed in its ring. Its smooth black surfaced glistened like spilled oil, and it seemed to ripple in the fading light, its size growing and shrinking with every blink of the eye. "Your twisted bargains offer nothing for us to gain," he whispered, each word dripping with malice.

Spieler smiled sadly at the two as he raised a hand to cover his mouth, another laugh spilling from his throat. "You both betrayed us. Violated our most perfect creation and took it for yourselves, all of us gave a part of ourselves for its birth, and you... perverted it and twisted it to your own." He slowly took a step forward and no one moved for a second, the gesture seemed so innocent. The young child took another step, and everyone almost relaxed, lulled by the innocence they faced. The spell was broken as another explosion shook the air outside, and as if waking from a dream everyone tensed. The sisters extended their hands, threads of power already shimmering into existence as they began to weave their spells. "You will pay for what you have done; I only seek that it be not with your lives. Earth will be returned to us all, no one God may hold sway over it."

"You can do nothing here," the Mother breathed, and the room shook with her words. "This is my heart, my power still flows and the very ground will consume you if I command it."

"And yet your power wanes," the small boy gurgled, his eyes growing with anticipation. "Otherwise I would not be able to enter your heart uninvited." He squeezed his hands, almost like flexing a muscle and sparks flittered about his arms like small flies. "Even here I can feel the strength of the others. I only offer this once to you both, surrender."

The silence that followed the request only lasted a few seconds, but to Sheadon it felt like hours. He had slowly been crawling back, trying to distance himself as much as possible. The fact that a God had managed to cross a Passage to this chamber meant the enchantments were weakening; it would not be long before they failed entirely. He reached the end of the balcony and slowly pulled himself up. Face drawn with fear he watched as Speiler waited for an answer to his offer.

The Mother didn't answer, but with a flick of her wrist the ground underneath the boy opened up like a maw. Razor sharp rocks like teeth snapped forward, only catching air where the boy once stood. "So the game continues," Speiler laughed from the shadows, "oh how I do love games."

As the voice faded Rhyfel slowly turned and strolled to the door. He stroked its surfacing, whispering to the ancient wood as a small opening slowly appeared for him to pass through. He turned to look back at the Mother. Neither said a word, but what passed between them was some sort of acceptance for what was to come. As the door closed behind the God the Mother turned to the Sisters and nodded, "Begin," she whispered, "Begin the binding."

They bowed and slowly began to make a circle. Their hands started to move as one, twisting and spinning as they weaved threads of magic together, forming a weave of immense power. Green sparks began to glow and sputter, spinning around the circle in a swirl of emerald colors. A soft concussion shook the air and a bloom of yellow, orange, and red sparks appeared the colors like a rain of fall leaves. The Mother turned from them to glance at Sheadon, "Look to the battle beyond," she commanded, "tell me what your mortal eyes see."

The man nervously nodded and turned to look at the world arrayed before him. The last of the sun’s rays was slipping beyond the horizon. It cast a blood red pale on the earth below. The mountain was surrounded on all sides. Men and beasts of war churned up clouds of dust that billowed into the cooling air. Though he couldn't hear their cries, he could see them by the thousands. They churned the ground to mud, a relentless army of flesh and steal.

Far below the walls of the Mother's temple, Syntyma, lay broken and scatters. Few battles still lingered here, but the flash of echoing sorceries could still be seen in the growing darkness. "The walls of Syntyma lay broken and scattered," Sheadon breathed. "The towers crumble and burn and the light of magical energies can still be seen. The great golden dome is cracked and caved in; something crawls on its surface. I can see weaves of power in the distance, multiple ones, large and pulsing with energy." He paused, staring at the glowing weaves in the distance as they, grew strands of magic forming intricate patterns and complex shapes as the spells were born. “And I see a tide of men standing at the gates to your heart; they beat on the mountain doors..."

His voice trailed off as the Mother whispered, "And soon they will enter."

Sheadon froze for a second; something in the quickly darkening sky caught his eye. "Ravens descend from the heavens," he whispered as the great birds came swooping down from the north. A raven cry split through the night and Sheadon shuddered for a moment, something stirred in his eyes, the faint feeling of a weave he hadn't noticed before.

He heard a sharp hiss and turned to see the Mother staring at him cautiously. "You are marked," she murmured, "someone else seeks to scheme with my pawns." She stepped toward him, and Sheadon flinched back a bit, confused by the words she spoke. When she moved it was so fast he didn't even react. Instead he looked down numbly and gazed at her hand that was buried inside of his chest. A million questions swirled in his mind as she pulled her arm out of his chest cavity with a wet pop. Something akin to sorrow passed over her inhuman face as she reached up to touch his lips with a bloodied finger.

"I have been faithful..." he mumbled, as a trickle of blood slowly slipped from between his ruby tinted lips.

"Your faithfulness is why I do this for you," she whispered sweetly.

The man didn't know how to feel. As his vision begin to fade and darkness covered his eyes he slowly slumped to the floor. Was this his reward for faith? Was there some greater work here he could not see, was it a test to see how strongly he believed in the Mother and her purposes? He tried to harden his resolve, to find some peace in knowing that her will was being lived out, that this was his purpose.

He barley registered the scream that shook the earth a few seconds later. Was it the binding? He couldn't see or tell, but the very noise seemed to erupt from the stones all around him, and his bones ached with the cry. Part of the rock wall he was leaning against turned to ash and he tumbled flat on the floor. He wanted to tell the Mother he was being faithful, that she need not be angry with him as another roar shook the mountain and things began to crumble. I am faithful... I am faithful, was all he could think as he descended into darkness.