To Fly the Soaring Tides

Well over a century ago, humans did quarrel over the laws’ imprint. A story I had seen too many times. What did they hope to do with it? Sprouted from a single demon’s corpse, this tablet attracted undue attention as any other. They did not always need instruments, but some among the humans were remarkably perceptive. It always led them to power.

Some had good intentions, while even more held ill will. There were of course those who were simply curious. Much like myself, but far more human, these fearsome mages rooted out the unknown and cataloged it. Such was their self-assumed purpose, so one such as I had no choice but to empathize with their pursuit.

Though I bear the duty of witness, not even I can see these laws forged in the physical realm up close. Of course, I held the power to interfere, even see it for myself, but the closer I became to this world, the harder it would become to resist becoming part of it.

This ragtag guild of knowledge seeking humans spent years breaking through the ruins of a long-lost civilization.

Even through the ravages of time did it maintain such grandeur as to repel prying minds and forceful interlopers, yet these studious primates were able to tiptoe through each challenge and claw their way to the prize.

It was almost inspiring, like how the flopping fish which haplessly threw themselves upon the dry sands a mere few epochs ago had actually grown willful enough to face the harsh conditions of the inhospitable world beyond their shallows.

It could be said the children of the primordial age were like my nieces and nephews, or more accurately, my younger cousins. This relative was always a peculiar one. The girl never changed her name from Tranquility, though to her credit, she never had to introduce herself.

I almost felt sorry for how lonely the girl was, but it was far from accidental. It’s not that she couldn’t interact with others, but that she abhorred it. As power was inherent to her nature, she spent a great deal of time organizing the common folk to grant herself the freedom of solitude she enjoyed.

Tranquility was a very subjective concept, which made checking in on my niece always so fascinating. It wasn’t the route I would take—her life seemed so dreary—but any time a whim caught her fancy, she would pursue it without a second thought. Truly uninhibited. A lake within her string of islands reflected the moon just right? She could be caught playing the harp as wind formed ripples on its surface.

If only mountain peaks were visible over the sea of dense fog on another island she claimed, one could often see her sitting before a canvas.

No worries weighed on her, but her power only further isolated her from the people.

Tranquility grew further and further from those she ruled, and centuries had passed since anyone who knew what they worked for had even seen her face. Her control was naturally quite easy to disrupt. Another victim of the primordial genocide, and an existence I personally felt was cut short.

As if true to its nature, Tranquility did not see the need to manifest elsewhere. She passed peacefully in her sleep, and the law not even her brother could touch deigned not to move from the spot.

As in life, the legacy of her death let not a single trespasser even close to claiming the sole remnant of her existence.

Tranquility was subjective.

It typically embodied a state of peace, but by nature it implied the existence of measures to attain it—or in my dear niece’s case—a lifetime of efforts to reach it. Only too late did I witness her dying breath still yearned for something yet unseen.

In the time that followed, her remains pushed back further, repelling all those subject to reality. If I didn’t know any better, I would have had to call her Solitude.

Those who survived the fall of her Skies mostly fled, and those who didn’t met a quick end. There was nothing left of her, but getting too close was a death sentence. Natural enchantments formed on the islands Tranquility used to roll around the meadows of. Those who could not conform to her ideals were picked off through one aspect of her personality or the other, as she was quite a unique girl, her heart twisted to the extreme through an untimely death. Some days I think maybe she didn’t even notice her death, but that’s just wishful thinking.

Try to reach an island’s spring to quickly, or harvest too many fruits from the forests; this was frowned upon in the Tranquil Skies. A renowned pirate crew once obstructed the view of the sunset with too many ships against the shore and disappeared like a passing dream.

Even if Tranquility had not noticed her own passing, the girl’s dreams had gotten much darker over the years.

Tranquility had become synonymous with the stillness of death and futility of effort. Give up and find peace. That was the meaning of these skies.

But some curious humans spent years easing towards its heart—toward hers. Poking and prodding, always just out of arm’s reach, they tested the waters and worked out the rules which governed the Tranquil Skies one step at a time, striving for minimal loss of life and safety above all. Time was inconsequential. They only wanted to meet whoever drove the will which created these skies.

While this occurred centuries ago, it was a meticulous plan that took decades to bring to fruition. All the while, however, someone watched. They bade their time until the perfect moment, when this dauntless team had all but laid hands on the slab.

“Are you ready, Stella?” Her teacher asked, though she retained a healthy trepidation. “Only your daylight which shines so bright can awaken the treasure I seek. Are you with me?”

The young girl’s master had an insidious way of phrasing her words, so as to make the listener sound more important than she felt they were. While this child was ancient among her fellow humans and had even take her own students, she hadn’t really lived that long. Still, her influence reminded me of my younger cousins, while her vicious tendencies outclassed many of them.

“I-I won’t let you down, Lady Nimara!” The bright-eyed witch clenched her fists. She thought she was doing good, but in truth, all she would accomplish this day was meddling with forces she couldn’t fathom for her master’s greed. “That vile Second Order will never lay hands on something so dangerous while I’m around!”

The girl was hardly considered an adult by her own peoples’ standards, and she still wore robes woven by her mother to protect her during these provisional years of tutelage. Many students from the lands of which they both hail have lost their lives trying to learn so-called witchcraft, but it did not show on young Estelle’s face.

Ever since her light first formed, that was all that her expression revealed. She always followed the sun and picked her battles with those who cast too tall a shadow. A rare heart of pure light not seen in a hundred generations was remarkably gifted talent to reach horizons scarce seen even in dreams, yet she could never have imagined the horrors which existed in the light. Not every evil cast a shadow and depravity was not always restricted to the night.

While the tragedy of master and student was a story for another day, today was the first of many steps Estelle took towards the dimming of her own ambition, yet one that took the longest to realize. That poor, naïve child once held in her eyes a light that could easily rival that creature the Sage took in, and more than enough talent to make a true mark on fate’s course, if only she weren’t chosen as a weapon to an unfortunate master.

___

“Prepare to break dawn in three… two… one.” The ancient witch known as Nimara flooded the sky in a silver hue and it suddenly turned dark. In the blink of an eye, they were so far across the sky that the sun would not catch up for hours.

“Challengers of the righteous!” Estelle began her innocent incantation as the silver haze took on a golden glow, “And unwarranted shadows alike, shrivel before the march of imminent dawn!”

It was then Estelle noticed her surroundings. There was a small group of mages staring at them in shock and anguish from across a cobbled road as night turned to day. They stood easily ten paces in front of them, just outside a blazing circle of some unintelligible enchantment, but from student and masters’ backs, the ground trembled. A shriek sounded of the utmost anguish. Like an eternity of pent-up pain and unrealized dreams blistered to the surface, the world was rent in pieces.

Islands fell from the sky in countless pieces, cut with surgical precision in a single moment. The buildings around Estelle crumbled while pain continued to seep into the winds.

We were too late. No… Estelle’s heart broke. Sadly, they were too late to prevent these evil people from wreaking havoc afar. That’s what she believed for far too long, anyway.

“Who the hell are these girls?!” A man with bright amber eyes cried, “They’ve ruined everything!”

“Shed what tears you must, evil-doers!” Estelle cried, ever so self-righteous, “But I won’t let you continue causing such torment!”

“Wha—”

“Nimara, you hag!” A young woman with crimson hair and fierier eyes shouted, “Your death is a long time coming!”

She banged her staff against a barrier, but it refused to budge.

“Ahaha.” Nimara chuckled, “How long have I waited…?”

Estelle’s master stepped up a short set of stairs as the pained cries grew evermore forlorn. The girl herself even felt something was wrong and may have caught on if there wasn’t such a clearcut enemy.

“And you!” A bloody spear grew from the ground and an angry woman of the same shade appeared with an outstretched fist.

“No!!!” Estelle threw her hands up in defense when the opposing arm turned to shreds in a flash of silver.

“How many times must we go through this, Eliza?” Estelle’s master had rarely taken such a cold tone, “You will never best me. Not even my tools are within your reach. Nothing will stop me from realizing my—”

The man with amber eyes appeared in a flash of light that far outranked anything Estelle could hope to muster.

“I’ve heard of you,” Though his voice held a jovial grandeur, Estelle felt a similar coldness from it. The man had completely bypassed her and the ancient barrier before appearing in front of her master. “I won’t let you have your way—”

Pain and suffering—an eternity of torment I had never realized reverberated through the sky. Tranquility should never have been disturbed, but her perpetual pain was reborn like the phoenix on this day. Even my non-existent and long-petrified heart stuttered. Before my very eyes, this was the first time I had the bittersweet pleasure of witnessing a slab of primordial law come into existence. As her tortured cries faded, I watched the aether etch words into Tranquility’s condensed remains of hardened stone.

“No!” In spite of the girl’s cries, the man held a palm outstretched full of mana enough to fold the stone below in on itself, yet Estelle in all her childish ambition threw herself in between it and her master. “I won’t let you!”

She was ready for death if it meant upholding what was right. I saw as much in her eyes, as did the peerless sorcerer, but he somehow saw much more than that. The mana quickly died down and he lowered his hand.

This was a person who did not have the heart to kill the innocent even if it meant ensuring the greater good prevailed. A hopeless optimist who thought the desired outcome could still be attained even after the one opportunity afforded by fate was thrown away to preserve a single inconsequential life. Nimara’s fingers finally touched the stone.

“Ohoho… So that’s how it is.” Her voice trickled along the clouds, “Begone. All of you.”

All the mages and sorcerers who dared oppose Estelle’s master dissipated in motes of light. Suddenly the earth settled, and the crumbled ruins were left silent.

“I have acquired what I came for,” Nimara spoke, “Let us make haste back to Nightwing Isles.”