Verses of our Shadows

Hey guys, this is my first time writing an original story so I implore you to be gentle.~ For those looking for a quick release, sadly, there is no sex in this chapter- this only sets the story itself up and is actually quite a few years in advance of the actual plot. There will be interesting things to coming in the future for sure though, so do not despair.

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Smoke was thick in the air on that fateful day, as ragged tangled hair flew through the hair, as tattooed hands flew through the air over darkly clouded eyes. The seer peered through the smoke and screens, and regarded the two girls before her. Though perhaps girl was the wrong term to use, though still young, one was long past her adolescent years and had comfortably grown into womanhood. On her knees, with her thighs balanced on her calves, she was already taller than the seer, and many of the smaller citizens of the land.

Tall and muscular, even through the haze and the layers of ceremonial robes, it was easy to tell the hard, sharp lines of the body, and even more the sharp line that had been cut through her eyebrow and down through her eyelids. The fine line of her scar had been a testament to how very lucky this woman had been, any deeper and she would have been sure to lose her eye- and a deadly loss to her depth perception. This was a woman whose element of comfort was the battlefield, a woman who more comfortable commanding troops than she was commanding the soft lives of those more agrarian or business minded.

A woman who was next in line to rule over all within the borders of the great land of Rhuyan.

Next to her sat a girl of perhaps fifteen springs, maybe more, perhaps less. She sat shorter than her companion, but most anybody would look short in comparison to a woman of such unusual stature. She sat wrapped in a cloak of artificial feathers, made to imitate that of her namesake- the Kestrel. The 'feathers' were composed of the fine downy product of trees that covered the geography of Rhuyan, farmed and unfarmed. They were native only to their mountain landscape, and their most famed exported product whenever trade could be established with the remote Rhuyani peoples. Her cloak was dyed with the most luxurious soft browns, and dotted sparsely with feathers of fallen kestrels themselves. Kestrel's hair was long, and seemingly uncut but for perhaps the occasional trim to retain its quality. Today it lay unbound, free upon her shoulders and down her back, its colour so similar to that of her cloak that a discerning eye was needed to tell where her hair would end and her cloak to begin.

She was also to be a woman of battle as all those of nobility are required to be, though she only trained at this moment, the time to initiate her into the ranks was not far at hand. Her legs were thin, but her stance was unshakeable, and already they had developed some muscle on her thighs on calves.

Kestrel was a girl who was full of promise, and second in line to rule behind her hero and sister, Amya of Boars.

All this information was processed by the seer, though some she had been informed of, or had inferred, earlier. But it was not her conscious mind that controlled her at this moment, but her subconscious in the thrall of a higher power. In fact, none of what the seer saw was through her eyes, but filtered through the delicately contrived symbols on her hands. They were that of wide-open eyes, and it was through these that the seer perceived her world, through her eyes her seemingly immortal patron could see all. For though she was seer now, she came from a long lineage of seers, of men and woman who gave up possession of their own sight and life to share in a perception far beyond their own. Their own intuition was replaced by a voice that whispered, a voice that quietly commanded in their subconscious. It was this voice that has brought her the Rhuyan in the first place, though it was not by any means an unexpected visit, as for the past centuries the prospective monarchs of Rhuyan had enjoyed, or cursed in some cases, the cryptic words of the patron spoken through the seers lips. Words that could penetrate the smoke, the screens, and the haze into the recipients hearts, just as those unblinking eyes saw.

Her arms outstretched before her, they swept outwards before crossing over her chest, and her hands settled over her cloudy unseeing eyes, wrists crossed and fingers grasping into her temples. A sharped ear-wrenching gasp wrought her body through lips that were barely visible behind her wrists. As her back arched, she found herself brought down to her knees, elbows brought down hard upon the table in support. Her visage was engulfed in the ceremonial incense that was lit to invoke her current state.

A low voice spoke like that of feet upon the rockiest of beaches, one that contrasted to the soft lilting voice of the conscious seer, a voice that seemed to speak with and impossible amount of assurance and knowing.

"You."

The seers entire torso turned, hands still clasped tightly over her face, the unreal glare of those wide eyes focused solely on Amya. Though she did not react to its gaze, she could only assume that she was being regarded by an entity greater than the seer, greater than herself, and it unsettled her greatly for reasons she could not place. She was not alone, and lesser people than her had broken down and wept in the face of such greatness. All that kept Amya's face stone still and her limbs from trembling greatly was sheer determination from the thought of the example she would be providing to her younger sister. Kestrel had, to her knowledge, never seen her in a vulnerable state- and Amya refused to let that start now. Though she was strong, she was fallible, as all humans were, but as long as she lived she wanted her sister to think she was an unstoppable force that did not falter. Some would call that arrogance, but it was born out of a sentiment that perhaps Kestrel herself could grow into the woman that Amya pretended to be.

"The decision has been made. Your life here. Now. Useless. Worthless. You are bigger than your trappings- and you shall abandon them..." An ugly sounding cough wracked through the seers body, but she continued on, "Cut free of today and lay in eternity with dreams." None of it really made sense to Amya, as many prophecies never seemed to make sense to their recipients- quite in fact, it was hardly understood by the seer herself. Her patron said so much more than her mind could process, and what tumbled out of her mouth in that low voice were simple paraphrases of the endless knowledge that her mind supported for these short minutes.

But what was said next was unprecedented, and not even Amya could keep a look of complete unfiltered shock from taking over her face.

"In the incomprehensible future, I look forward to meeting you." Never had this entity referred to itself before, and to speak of a reconnaissance in the future seemed impossible to imagine. Only seers met their patron, and even then only twice in their life- once during their initiating promise, and again at their death which served as the initiation of a new seer at the same time.

The gaze turned to focus on Kestrel, and she couldn't help but to sink into the plumage of her coat- to hide from the intense stare. It offered her only the barest sense of physical comfort, a fake idea in her mind that the eye could not regard her in its apparent scrutiny, despite that she knew they could see far more than just the physical world.

"You are second to none. Equal to one. Know the secrets of shadows, when your loss your imagined control equates the possession of a lonely mind of millions." The seer's head cocked to its side, and hidden behind her wrists and wry smile appeared, "Write your poem of duty. Of a guilty sacrifice. You hold a living death in your hands, in your heart. You hold salvation in your loss of salvation. Fly away and be caged in shadows- clipped wings and a cloak of death... Your grace."

As those last gravelly words left the lips of the seer, her body collapsed- and lay on the ground in a perfect sleep, body exhausted from tolerating such a grand presence in the mere body of a human. The seer's attendant appeared from the darkness in the back of the hall and carried her sleeping body away, and the curtains were drawn back, letting in the afternoon sun as the smoke was let out.

Kestrel had always been loved the way smoke seemed to glide through the air, its hazy impossible tendrils weaving through nothingness in what were the most beautiful patterns. To be fair, she was more than slightly affected in the same way that the seer invoked her prophetic state. But, at that moment, the sight of such great amounts of smoke swimming through the air to freedom illuminated by the sun's light was as beautiful as it ever would be.

Both were, frankly, stumped by the majority of each of their respective prophecies- but one thing was clear, that Amya was to be taken out of the equation of succession, and Kestrel was to rule.

It was not unheard of in the history of Rhuyan for sessions such as these to cause a disruption in the line of succession, or uncommon even. It had caused so much bitterness, both on those who lost their right to rule, and those who had it thrust upon them. Long ago, when only the oldest of the elders could remember only being told of as children, there had been a bloody civil war fought between brother and sister over rule of Rhuyan precipitated by the visit of such a seer. It changed everything, it changed nothing. The prophecy of the seer had come to fruition just as the entity had said, but since then the education of heir apparents had come foster a sense in the impressionable children that all was possible, that the seer's prophecy was a tide that was impossible to swim again, a futile struggle. It was unavoidable, it was as good as law.

So as the two left the room, a woman deposed of her birthright, and a girl with new responsibility thrust upon her, neither could feel bitter towards each other about how their lots in life had turned out. Surely enough, Amya had known she was not meant to rule, had always felt that somehow she was not meant to control the citizens of Rhuyan. Surely she could plot the movements of troops, could rouse an army during wartime- but she did not think her mind was one suited to the intricacies of diplomacy.

Kestrel on the other hand... Amya had always believed her to be more suited to the post, though she never said it to her face. She hadn't had it in her heart to ruin the adoration in her younger sister's eyes and words when she spoke of the future- of what she said Amya would put in action when she took the throne. Amya would smile and nod in response, yet the ideas her sibling spoke of were all products of Kestrel's mind. In fact, though she certainly could agree with the ideals her sister spoke of, none were thing she could imagine herself. Amya knew that if she were to rule, no statute of rule of law would be of her own word- only parroted from the lips of Kestrel.

Now that she no longer was bound to stay in Rhuyan, to stay so close to her sister, Amya wondered whether of not it was best to continue being of such influence to her younger sister. After all, though she pretended to be all her sister though of her and more, she really wasn't that. She mused that, perhaps, it might be best to let her sister develop into her own person, a separate from her. Not only that, she her own selfish reason, and had always longed to travel, to be away from the trappings of noble life.

This was her chance.

So weeks later, after the Rhuyani people's elected passed all the motions through house, and the disruption of succession had be recognised as official, Amya found herself kissing her younger sister on the forehead and bidding her farewell.

A long coat, lined with thick fur on its collar, and a large two handed sword in her possession- she set down the the small mountain road that led out of the remote Rhuyani capitol, with a beast of burden carrying her supplies as her only companion.

A seer would never again visit Rhuyan, and the sisters would not meet until Rhuyan itself had passed into history, and finally into legend.