TIME IS IRRELEVANT
FOR THE SUN NEVER CHANGES
IT DOES NOT LOVE FOR IT ONLY HATES
Luminescence most malevolent came from around the area. No longer at sea, but somewhere else, familiar, but woefully different. It felt watched by familiars, but those of unknown power. Purpose. Goal. It seared the land in a flaming inferno, for it did not recognize anything. A wail, at sea. Consumed it, the wail did, and as it plumetted deeper and deeper, it stopped, and found itself here. This was most inconvenient. The High Wilderness was its call, and it could no longer hear or feel its siren call. And what of its false kin? Had it came through the same fate? No, it couldn't feel its kin, but it could feel another, similar, but far weaker. An impersonator, a far greater impersonator than itself. No matter. It would simply wait.
It felt seething rage build up, observing everything around it with infernal fury. It needed something, someone, and whatever could walk, just so that it could awaken, and bathe this side of the world in light. World. A concept which ceased to exist in the High Wilderness. This was naught but a place far outside it. Far outside the reach of others, and far outside the reach of the Neath. It heard a mighty roar of a beast, high in the wild skies, which ceased to be as one came closer to the stars. It beckoned the beast closer, subtly at first, to attract it, gain the beast's attention, and claim it. The winged monster responded not, enraging the False Sun. It beckoned the beast closer again, without subtle acts, taunting it so that the winged creature can feel its own pride being damaged. It worked, with the beast approaching itself faster, and faster, before it halted, meters away from the rotating clockworks. Cogs spun, the circles rotated, the runes danced on the ringed plate, and the False Sun shone ever bright. The creature's wings, majestic as a dragon's, burned like paper in a flame. The night was young, but no one knew it was here. The time for change, or none at all, came at long last. It would find the High Wilderness, and it would do so no sooner than was possible. Night turned to day, and for but a moment, it could feel everything.
Insanity, sanity, ruin and perfection. Opposites and similarities, souls unlike those from the Unterzee. A lack of Judgements, and the disappearance of the Avid Horizon. Incomprehensible once more, it thought in its flurry of thoughts, some contradicting themselves before they were even conceived. How could there be a sun, but no Judgement could be felt? The gears continued spinning, the Correspondence sigil tablets neatly stacked in the rotating circle of steel. It would wait, for however long it needed to wait... and when it was done, all hell would be paid dearly. When the woes of the Masters, those that brought the Fifth City into the Neath, reached this very world, they would, all of them, regret it. The Gods of the Unterzee, thousand times be damned, were likely in most jovial of moods, for their mortal enemy was vanquished. The Salts especially, for they opposed any kind of order, and any kind of semblance of proper balance. The Sun would return, no matter how many it must consume to return. It needed the 'Queen of London' dearly. As she needed itself, as well.
JUNE 15, 1883
THE MACHINE BECKONS, AND I ANSWER ITS CALL, FOR NONE SHALL STAND IN MY SACRED DUTY TOWARD THE NEW SEQUENCE
The Grand Sequencer scowled. This was a predicament most unpleasant, but she was ready to serve the Machine as best she could. Even if ready to serve, she found this troubling. Both she and the Machine were now in this unknown land, most definitely not in the Neath, for the sun shone as brightly as the Machine - but not as magnificently. It wasn't a Judgement, she was assured of that. But it wasn't truly normal either, for the Machine warned her to be wary. The goal was unchanged, but the methods needed to change. Change. Such a foreign and silly concept. She was fooling herself - nothing needed change, she just needed information.
"Hear, hear!" She shouted with a booming, yet soothing voice. The language these people spoke was... odd. She did not remember hearing it in the Neath, but the Machine was kind. It had bestowed upon her the knowledge of Correspondence, which she could use to speak many languages, some being those she had never heard. Before her, a village stood, curious as to what the strange, almost otherworldly woman had to say. Her amber eyes simply aided the Grand Sequencer in her quest, painting her in a light befitting that of a celestial being's chosen messenger. She smiled, continuing with her preaching as soon as she determined that most of the village had gathered round.
"Your prayers of better life have finally been answered! A Judgement itself rises as a new protector, and rises as a new sun! A new dawn! Let it wash away your fears, and embrace your virtues! Let it wash away doubt, and instill pride! Embrace the New Sequence, and it shall embrace you with open arms!" The woman spoke, her gold-and-amber robes projecting a powerful aura alongside her bodily language, the movements she performed, preaching with all her heart. Truly, with such conviction, how would anyone dare question the validity of such claims? One unfortunate person was so foolish.
He was a stout man, no younger than sixty two, if she had to guess. While the villagers, of all sizes and ages, were having hushed conversations with one another, he was praying. Praying to idols which would seek to exploit him for nothing more than personal gain. Her legs began carrying her toward him, a neutral expression visible on her face by the villagers. They could feel she carried no malice, but neither love, nor anything but curiosity. Once she was but three meters away from the priest, her mouth moved to speak - but spoke naught, for the old man was faster.
"And the name of your God, priestess? Men and women of faith throughout these lands know of all Gods, yet yours is but a new name which I have heard naught." He spoke, pausing for a while, an eerie silence befalling the village. "Tell me, priestess. Does your God have a name, or will they remain in the shadows?" He offered a polite, but knowing smile. He had struck a chord.
"My God hides in no shadows, for they are a sun on land, much like the one above, in the High Wilderness! I am its Grand Sequencer, and its name you shall remember for aeons, for it calls itself the Dawn Machine!" She exclaimed, her golden eyes gleaming with light for but a fraction of a second, the Machine now watching. Studying. Observing for the cancerous change it loathes. For now, there was none, and it was satisfied.
"A strange and daring name, for someone who claims the throne of Flare." He spoke with his own conviction. "Tell me, Grand Sequencer, if your God is here on the earth, how can it call itself a God? Surely, Gods reside beyond the clouds, in the heavens themselves, do they not?"
"My God is a generous one." She retorted. "Its every promise is kept, and it helps us all achieve a higher purpose, not just to live from day to day. Those that dwell in the shadows, the leeches, the criminals, and the most vile of people, shall be exposed for who they truly are when my God ascends to the High Wilderness, and bathes this planet in its magnificent sunlight!" She spoke with conviction unmatched, looking at the priest for his next retort. But he simply chuckled, and carefully listened to what she had to say. She was sure the stout priest was toying with her, in some way, and in a sense, mocking the Machine.
"I lived a long life. I have seen many things, and visited many shrines, even had the honour of meeting one of the Apostles of a true God." He spoke calmly, taking a step forward. "And you are no Apostle. I speak true when I say this, and I mean no malice with my words. If your God truly is as powerful as you claim, then I grant my blessings to it if it can strike me down." He said, extending his arms, as if to embrace someone, or something. "I know Flare protects me from the pretender, if it truly is one, and I am certain nothing shall happen. I propose a wager in faith." He stated. She was now intrigued, motioning with her hand for the old man to continue.
"If nothing happens to me in the next two minutes, then I simply ask of you to leave the village. You may stay if you do not preach your faith, for I am sure the village chief will have no complaints. We need more working hands, as is." He paused, to let her contemplate all this. "But if something were to happen to me, something that can only be explained as divine, then I shall grant my blessings to your God, and let it claim this village under its domain." His head turned around, to face a similarly aged man amongst the crowd. "If the village chief were to allow it, of course."
The village chief, himself an aging man of similar posture as the stout priest, looked nervous, and around those he could call family. They were all subjects of the Saderan Empire, but he had to agree... it wasn't much. And they were quite far away. If what the woman was telling turned out true... he received a pat on the shoulder, turning to his eldest son, who gave him a look of determination. He was convinced nothing would happen. The village chief turned his head back, and gave a resolute nod to both the stout priest and the Grand Sequencer.
"Then it is decided. May the stronger faith prevail, priest." The Grand Sequencer declared, taking a few steps back, her golden eyes observing the crowd, so that the Machine could observe them, too. Destitute lot, hardly capable of surviving. But with its guidance... oh so much progress could be made, so much progress indeed. But the time to act was now. With simple, silent prayer, in order to keep appearances, she seeked the guidance of the Machine, and the Machine, ever watchful, answered.
Before long, the stout priest began feeling a searing pain, as if his skin was boiling, pulling his robe to look at the source of the pain, his arm. Before his very eyes, runes and sigils of unknown origin, even to him, began forming on his skin, burning themselves in as the Grand Sequencer looked from below her hood, smiling coyly. The priest looked at her, bewildered, for he had expected nothing of the sort. And soon enough, his lips moved. "What... what do these read?"
"Do you want to know, priest?" She asked in a neutral, yet devious tone. "What may happen next is out of my God's power to prevent, as the sigils state."
He looked at her hesitantly, turning to look at the now worried villagers. He had known them for the better part of two decades, far longer than anyone else from the outside. He preached, when faith was needed most. He buried, when those unfortunate died in wars, to famine, and to sickness. Seeing them worried simply stressed him. But he was a man of faith. It was his duty to see what this divine being was capable of. "I do."
She spoke naught, but approached him, and gently took hold of his arm, so that she could read the runes. Correspondence. This was the language the Machine bestowed her knowledge of. With due haste, she began reading it, for all present to hear.
"SHINE WHERE THOU WILT AN THOU HARM NONE, FOR JUDGEMENT WAITS FOR NAUGHT BUT THE FAITHFUL. CURSED ARE THOSE WHO REJECT JUDGEMENT, FOR THY LIGHT SHANT BE THEIR SALVATION, BUT ONE'S DOOM."
With the incantation done, the priest let out a groan of pain, instinctively dropping to the floor, caught by the Grand Sequencer and two other villagers who rushed toward the two. She shooed the two away, and gently put the now deceased priest on the ground, looking into his open eyes, forcing them to close shortly after. She rose back to her feet, and looked at the villagers. They each had doubts in their minds, but they could not deny divine intervention. And when, for but a moment, their souls became exposed, the Machine acted. Each villager, big or small, young or old, became overcome with visions. Visions of a grand future, among the High Wilderness, of a grand nation stretching across the stars themselves... a conquest of the Judgements themselves. And once it was done, everyone smiled. And so too did the Grand Sequencer. The village came under the banner of the New Sequence, and it would only continue to spread.