Ellium: Song in the Silence by AurerianKing | World Anvil Manuscripts | World Anvil

Remove these ads. Join the Worldbuilders Guild
Following

Table of Contents

The Golden City Kyria and the Beast

In the world of Ellium

Visit Ellium

Ongoing 3915 Words

The Golden City

1713 0 0

Το όνειρο και η χρυσή πόλη  - Chapter 1 - Το όνειρο και η χρυσή πόλη

Silence was a cruel force for her, giving her time for her thoughts until it swallowed her joy, leaving her empty.

 

Such was the thought whenever she was forced to leave her family, to fulfill her Seal Maiden duties. She would be overcome with embraces and tears from her children, old and young alike, and well-wishes from her clansmen at the gatehouse. It would be one of the loudest occasions for the clan, besides celebrations of births or festivals; albeit, her departure was always full of such sorrow. 

 

Then, with much prying and kisses, she would depart into their beloved pine forest.  For at least a mile or more she would hear the bellows of her clan, wishing her a quick return, declaring their love and assurances of her safety.  Those bellows would always continue even when the clan knew even her superior hearing could not make out their voices. 

 

Her journey would then truly begin, towards that place. While without her family, the Maker refused to leave her in silence. The songs of the forests, the rivers, and every animal that met her on her way accompanied her. Songs that would serenade her, and comfort her on the days-long journey. Direwolves and Jotun-bears would comfort her from nightmares and dark dreams, which were always sure to follow with journeys to that place.

 

By the fourth day, silence would take hold, as none but her dared to cross into the scorched and barren land, and seek that place that lay within.

 

She issued a startled gasp, pulling herself from those memories, grounding her in the present. The deep breath flooded her the smells of her pines, the wild flowers that bloomed around her spot on the grass. Instinctively she reached out beside her, almost falling out of her cross-legged position, to find comfort in one of her oldest friends.

 

Her beloved Serabel, who was once a meager sapling in her youth, now a towering and proud Ash tree overlooking her home from her mountain outcropping. She inched closer to her friend before finally resting her forehead against its rough skin.  Every previous time she had rested here, in the same full length ceremonial dress, and more importantly every time her children had climbed on her old friend with squeals of delight rang in her memory. 

 

She could hear the echoes of “Moder! Moder, look how high I am! I’m like the Valkyries!”

 

At the memory of her delightful children, she was turned to face her home, far and away below her. A twinkle in her eye only hinted at the joy abounding in her, at the sight that a thousand paintings would fail to capture. 

 

The compound lay down in their mountain valley, their crescent line of guardians opening up to the pine tree sea that extended out into the horizon.  The chilly air of her mountaintop betrayed the warm pleasant air of the valley that ran up and over the towering ring of stone walls.  From her perch, past her clouds of breath, the multitude of longhouses barely more than small brown pebbles.

 

 

A small smile broke upon her face as she closed her eyes for a moment.

 

She wistfully bemoaned if only they had been so simple to build as pebbles were, her hands remembering the work it took to create them. It was with this undertaking that she had been begrudgingly grateful for her auratic tendrils; it was uplifting seeing her unsettling, eldritch form bring awe and words of relief with the added help.

 

Lost to her memories, she was back in her home, though it still lay far from her.

 

The well worn stone pathway was near smooth under her feet. With a simple thought her six inky, haze-like wings manifested around her and propelled her up. 

One, two, three beats of her wings and she was just high enough to see the full scope of her home. 

Towards the center of her land, practically encircling her grand house were the training grounds that she and her three elder children favored. 

Encircling those however, were the lush and vibrant gardens of her husband, his love of life and providing ease for the living and those to come evident in their care. 

She saw what was the focus of her flight, and floated down to meet it. 

A statue, near perfectly encapsulating the beauty of one of her children, a shieldmaiden. Beside her, casting its shadowy embrace over her was the Weeping Cherry tree that they had planted in the child’s youth. As was the tradition of their family. 

She gazed down the many roads and paths of the compound, and counted every statue and tree by memory, marking the individual’s favorite spot in the compound during their life. 

She walked off only a little ways to the river that ran through their home’s center, the sizable banks almost obscured by the numerous grand Cherry Ash trees that had each been planted by a member of the compound, upon joining or coming of age. She ran a hand over one of the closest, and with a pulse of her aura, she drew forth the colored glow of aura instilled by the  planter, sparking even more memories to flood her. 

 

She shook herself from the memory as a slightly warmer gust blew over her. Just beyond the pine ocean, the sun could be seen beginning to peek over the horizon. Its glow brought a lighter blue to the sky, yet the orange glow was barely visible past the forested horizon.

 

A soft chuckle escaped her as she knew that not too far after the rising of the sun the noise of her family and clan would shake the very mountains, and perhaps bathe the stone giants before even the light reached them.

 

Her deepest desire, more so even than the call of her chambers, was her longing for the voice of her family; the feeling of their arms threatening to embrace the very feeling from her body. 

 

Hearing the call of her kin in her mind, she gathered up the tools used for her duties of sealing and with the stability of Serabel, she found her upright footing. Bestowing a kiss upon Serabel, the items and mementos found home in the pouches of her magenta dress as she set off for her home. 

With the rekindled joy of reuniting with her kin, she made quick work of the hazardous mountainside, her feet skipping downward along the mountain with a smile splitting her face. In the dark recesses of her mind, that voice harked to her the speed and ease returning to her home if she called on her powers

 

The voice caused a minute falter in her near prancing return home, only for her to banish the thought quickly. Experiences in her past defined how easily it was her to be lost to that dark voice after visiting that place so recently. 

 

Contentment for her was found in the energetic walk along her path. The harmonizing calls and songs of the birds filled her forest as she walked, providing her a peaceful environment to rest and walk. 

 

The near sprinting march of hers slowed to a ginger walk down the path, the singing of the birds raising in volume and sweet tones. Such songs and delicate animals coming to rest on her refilled her soul with joy.

 

Traveling the wasteland to her duty drained her of such feelings. 



After having amassed a collection of small feathered minstrels upon her head and shoulders, the sound of their river tickled within her ears. Her heart swelled anew, as she now reached her two thirds mark of distance between her and her children.

It always amused her that the distance leaving her children felt so long, but returning felt so short. 

 

Departing on her self-imposed exile for the completion of her duties routinely felt as if she put thousands of days between her and her children, and her love. The very act of prying them from her monthly only to face and endure its presence, felt akin to clawing out her heart. 

 

At the sensation of a soft body nuzzling her cheek she was pulled from such dark thoughts. Righting her spirit, she felt the seemingly absent smile return in full force as more pleasant realities and memories took space in her thoughts. 

 

She was far from that place and its evils. 

 

Freed from the dark spiral, her clan’s ornately carved covered bridge stood before her. The running of the water filled her ears, as her feather friends had all bid her farewell, as she took her first step onto the mile and a half long beacon of peace.

 

First footfall on to it brought back wondrous memories, her eyes recalling the exact moments of the days she and her family built it, the nights spent under the sky together in the beginning.

Each step brought back another memory, another individual cast out, abandoned, or looking for solace of company and finding it with them. More and more joined them, some remaining travelers and others becoming clan members, accepting even her unique heritage.

 

Their stories, the lives of their clan were engraved in the very foundation of the bridge, every carve of the pine, every detail of name and painting on the ceiling. Love, life, and rowdiness, not silence, had built it. The blazing spirit, the soul-changing love of her husband and savior, drove it. The one whom her children had derived every drop of rambunctious spirit, who had set her soul free.  As the end of the bridge neared, she longed to know her husband again. 

Meeting the other side, she paused for a moment, before confusion settled over her. 

Her youngest daughter had not met her here in her fanciest dress, had not formally greeted her for her to do in return before bursting into laughter and crushing each other in an embrace. 

 

Their tradition of four decades had never been missed. Reaching her aura out, she could feel not a soul between her and home. 

 

She resumed her homeward trek, determined to tease the child about being unprepared for her arrival. 



The sun was rising surely over the horizon with the sound of the river leaving her ears, as dread quickly flooded her heart. 

 

It was silent, the only noise being the chirpings of the birds. Dirt and gravel scattered as she rushed down her path, aura fueling her stride.  There was always some kind of commotion, some choir of life. The gentle songs of the forest were always drowned out in the light of the sun as her family’s song would over take all. 

 

As the trees gave way to the sight of the towering walls of Ga’la-Hæ, her blood chilled. Hammers should be ringing, voices weaving together in mass, steel tolling in the air. 

 

Her aura pushed out, forcing the large gates to open out to her as she sprinted in, one destination on the mind, even as her eyes widened in horror.



The streets were empty, quiet. Training grounds unused as she passed by them. Fields and gardens left untended, no songs of work ringing in the air. The workshops fell no hammers, spun no grinding stone. No clan member or child of her played in the streets.

Her heart and feet had led her to her Greathouse, standing tall amongst the compound buildings, its weeping cherry trees peacefully swaying in the breeze. Ornate walls that held her most prized possessions loomed before her for a moment before she ran at and burst through the doors. 

 

The entryway was still. Wooden floors and painted walls should have shook with the sounds of brawling; good-natured brawling, but brawling nonetheless, as though they were single or double yeared children and not century-old warriors. 

 

Her first and second born sons should have greeted her with flying attempts to tackle her as soon as she stepped in the door. She should not have made it to the doors of her dining chambers hallway unhindered as she did. The twin doors yielded to her demand to open, letting her march into her sky-lit hallway, the bust and paintings of her children making their greetings.

 

No clashing of steel, no sound of instrument or singing, or heavy thuds of bodies wrestling to the ground coming down the hall. 

 

 

The only force echoing down the hall was a silence that had forsaken any peace, any reprieve for her and had taken up a heavy, thick, unabating emptiness. 





It wafted down the hallway past the many busts of her children and wrapped around her throat, yolked her shoulders and sought to stop her, crush her beneath its weight. She pushed against it, spreading her aura down the hall to gain a sense of her home around her. Yet her dining hall and home was sealed from her, a force daring to deny her godly powers. 

 

Her dress dared to tremble like a sheet in the breeze. 

 

As the silence loomed towards her from the sealed room, so too did she force her feet to charge against its weight. With every foot gained, the weight bore down fiercer. 

 

The path was though she marched towards her certain death, much like the sense of departing for that place. Passing her youngest daughter’s bust, one of a jolly face being made, she felt it. 

 

Her daughter’s aura, crying out for her just beyond the double doors. She made instant work of the distance.

 

Fury fueled her aura as her six wings materialized alongside her tendrils to rip open her decorated doors. Time lurched still at the sight before her as the smell of death and the chill of murder billowed out around her.

 

Viscera painted the walls red, the broken long table red, the tapestry and the floor. The armors, cloths, weapons and piles of dust lay cast aside, broken or strewn by their two thrones. 

 

Her eyes locked to him, as he stood before his throne, ready to strike her daughter down. With the weapon she and her daughter forged for him. A scream like the wails of the tormented in Helheim ripped from her mouth, as her hand grasped at him, tendrils following behind.




Lycena jolted upright in her seat, dagger ripped from the insides of her cloak and thrown into the carriage wall across from her. The burying of the blade brought the subsequent grunting of her Onu`irco driver, asking if she was alright, as she grasped her chest.

 

Tears streamed down her face as her other hand sought to wipe their paths away. 

 

Though her chest still heaved and tears still flowed, she beat three times against the wall behind her that separated the driver from her, pulsing her aura along with it. 

 

“Alright then, as I was then.” the man grunted to her before falling silent again. A crack of the reigns brought up their speed. 



Several minutes were spent to restrain her aura and still her beating heart, but her tears did not stop so easily. The faces of those that had visited her dream were lost to her, but she felt the rage of the woman. The smell of death flooded her nostrils and the chill of murder rolled across her skin. 

 

She heaved a deep breath, shaking out her head as she scrubbed her face with both hands.

There had been only irritations for her since she had left Remedan a week and a half ago. Dark premonitions had been plaguing her mind, just as the strange, imageless dreams she had been having did.

This was the first time she had ever experienced a dream with a world to it and not a void of darkness. Thinking back to it she could smell the blossoms of the trees, and feel the chill in the air. 

A hand quickly retrieved her dagger and returned it to her cloak sheath. Leaning against the wall behind her, she sighed with a frown.

 

Dreams and nightmares held no weight in her mind and were regarded as an anxious mind, and hexing attempts on her mind were out of the question with her training.

 

 Her father and mother saw to that with solid surety.

 

She reached into her tunic and gingerly withdrew her locket, and with a click it opened to reveal a memory shard of Eros. Passing aura into the thin crystal disk, a collage of colors hovered over it. His younger boy face and torso, back during his thirteenth year, turned and smiled at her.

 

“Songbird, you’re back! I’ve missed you!” The memory showed him hugging her, although her eyes had only captured the top of the boy’s head. 

Eros backed up from her, to which his eyes widened as she presented him a small puzzle toy, ancient and radiating power. He respectfully took it from her, holding it for a moment before putting it aside and giving her another hug.

 

“Thank you Lycena. I love you.”

 

It couldn't be helped as blush colored her spotted cheeks. A press and click closed the locket, cutting off the memory of ‘her boy’. His smile still played behind her closed eyes, keeping her face warm with a smile. 

 

Eros would have been able to make sense of the strange dreams plaguing her; he had always been one gifted in untangling her mind, even more than her own parents. Lost was her smile as she thought to the last time when she had spoken with her boy, the last she had seen his smiling face.

 

The joy vanished in an instant, a hand covering her eyes as she frowned. Her mind returned to the night of the festival Eros had orchestrated for her return to Remedan. Fresh tears stained her face as his look of heartbreak flooded her mind when she had rejected his comfort in the office of his father.

 

That had been the last time she could recall interacting with him. Janua assured her that he had visited her room many times in effort to speak to her, but her meditation had left her comatose to the world around her. 

 

She had a difficult time accepting that she had ignored her love for three months.

 

She shook her head, rubbing the tears from her eyes. Regardless of the time, she had forsaken her love and her mission to secure artifacts for his health. Abandoned the mission that was to preserve his life, give him strength to live.

 

The dawning light shining through her windows summoned a specter, a hulking cloaked figure from her last day in Remedan, who confirmed and condemned her forsaking her love.

 

“Truly, death and betrayal billows off of you like a mist, kinslayer. May any companion be wary in your company.” his voice, low and hollow, rumbled in her memory as the specter faded away.

 

Even thinking back to the event caused her to recoil as if struck, at such a condemning accusation being leveled against her.



The weeks since learning of Eros’ departure from the city had been tormenting her, and had brought only heartache. 



Closing the opaque cloth curtains over the windows to either side of her, she fought to regain some sleep in the still early hours. Perhaps serving her father’s life goal would tame her wild mind.





Three weeks of carriage rides and a pass through the Onu’irco territory and capital city, Lycena had made it over the border of Remedan into the territory of Soteria. 



Soteria, even in the intermittent ten years that her father and mother had been fighting to march inland, was an untamed land. Violent, dangerous, and full of ancient monsters that had sought refuge in the karsts, low and highlands, and its many lakes and rivers.  Over the years, her sires had secured three days into the territory along with the entire southern border.

A glance out the driver window gifted her sight to one of the four karst fortress-cities of her family.

 

Even after all the years of traveling to and from them, the fortress outposts of her adopted fifth-fore father always awed her. While the early light grew, the ancient magic lit the crystal orbs in the walls, projecting the undead ward around the city, bathing the area in a golden and glittering light. The ancient magic ran so strong that even the great maples of their forest had grown a golden hue. 

 

Just over the fast approaching wall, she could see the karst keep overlooking the whole city.

 

Her inner child cooed as she always did that the city looked like a city of gold, a paradise where her father was its righteous king. 

 

As she chuckled at herself, the carriage slowed to a crawl before it halted completely. A glance out the driver window again presented the open gate of the city before her, with a duo of the dozens of guards marching to the carriage. The maple-skin Irco woman, towering in her seven feet of height and full plate armor, greeted her Irco driver with a firm grasp of forearms. 

 

“Fair morning, brother. Identification for entrance and occupants?” She asked, a smooth and deep voice warm to the tone passing past her tusks and fangs, decorated with gold and silver rings.

 

The driver quickly presented his papers, stamped as all were with the seal of Ares for entrance. 

 

The guard took them with a nod, as the man huffed a laugh, “As to my occupant, they are here for personal visitation to Grand Crusaders Ares and Janua’era. She can give her papers.”

 

A rap at her covered window drew her attention, as she unlatched and pushed the section of the wall out. A near equally as tall Karcha man greeted her, his shark-like face and head fin decorated with scars and a wide closed smile. At her own returned smile, his water circulating collar issued a sharp hiss as he gasped, revealing his several rows of serrated teeth. His head lurched with several bows, bouncing his many necklaces and shoulder decorations.

 

“Kyrias Myndæs, an honor to greet you this morning! Weahr truly sorery for-” 

 

He stopped as she presented her own papers from her bag, a smile never ceasing. His partner had come over as well, giving her own nod of recognition. The sharkman took the papers in his hand 3 times her own size, and read them over dumbfounded. At his stillness after a moment his partner freed the paper and handed them back to her. 

 

“Forgive my partner’s slowness, High Daughter. Please go about your morning and wish your sires the most blessed morning.”

 

The Irco woman took her partner by the shoulders, calling her love to come along back to duty. Lycena couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as her driver drove them on into the city. Much to her relief her two inspecting guards kept her arrival unannounced to the others, allowing for her carriage to pass into the city unhindered.

Please Login in order to comment!