Life caught up with me between appointments and catching this blasted cold, it's been bananas over here. That said, there's been some requests for devotional fiction. As we know, in fiction lies truths that we can not speak. I will be posting a video a bit later, but here is a story of the First War, as mentioned in the Children of Dèa Version of the Clear Recital. I hope you enjoy. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Celestial Janyati watched as Sai Vikhë set up a loom. It's frame was made of bone. The warp was the sinews of the dead. The warp weights were the heads of dead warriors. Her shuttle was an arrow and the weft was the guts of the dead. Sai Kala walked about the loom with fascination. Sai Werde frowned as Sai Maia wept.
"Sister," Sai Mati said, "What madness is this?"
"Something necessary," Sai Vikhë answered grimly. As she picked up the arrow and threw it through the open warp, in the worlds below something previously unknown began to stir. Sai Vikhë closed the first shed and opened the second. It seemed as though the worlds below groaned under a great weight. "She must rise before she falls," Sai Vikhë said, though her explanation confused Sai Mati, the wisest of them. Sai Thamë heaved a sigh of sorrow and reached to stop her sisters from interrupting Sai Vikhë.
"Must it be so soon?" Sai Thamë asked, "Can we not wait a little longer?" Sai Vikhë shook her head, tossing her black hair about her with the vigor of the motion.
Sai Sushuri gasped and put her delicate hands over her mouth as Sai Vikhë wove faster and gore began to drip from her weavings. Sai Sushuri turned and hid her face against Sai Raya's shoulder, desperately willing the image to leave her mind. Sai Raya watched all of this with a solemn expression as she ran a hand soothingly along her younger sister's back. "How long until it is finished?" Sai Raya asked, knowing what Sai Vikhë was fashioning.
"With the dark of the moon," Sai Vikhë answered, "And the earth turns to iron as snow falls for the first time."
"That is too close to when ..." Sai Raya started to say when Sai Candrè approached with a heavy veil over her and a dark shawl swathed about her body.
"It grows cold, even here," Sai Candré. The clouds about them began to form tiny, perfect crystals that floated down towards the worlds below as Sai Vikhë threw her arrow/shuttle through the topmost shed. Sai Vikhë turned to Sai Kala. Sai Kala put a pair of shears into the gore slicked hand. As Sai Vikhë cut the gruesome thing she had woven from its horrific frame, it changed. It turned into a gauzy fabric the color of fresh blood.
"You worked mischief this night," Sai Candré said grimly.
Sai Vikhë turned to her sisters with the fabric in her hands. "Behold, my sisters, the Flag of War. Fashioned to place one who reached too high into their proper place. This shall be my banner and arms. All who march upon the road of bones and answer to the beat of the war drums shall be under it's sign. Ever on will I bear this for my Enemy has taken their place. Our first battle is long in coming but not long enough."
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