Chapter 1: Veneer
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The land beneath her was bleeding a shade so red that it burned her eyes. It came from nowhere but swarmed from every direction possible, pooling about her slipper-clad feet until they too were stained crimson.
Fear coiled ruthlessly about her pounding heart.
She half-turned, hoping to make sense of her surroundings but every way she cast her sight; they drew up blank. Strips of sand that seemed to stretch across the horizon were cast around her; sand that were dyed a shade of vermillion red just starting to darken.
Her toes were soon coated in a thick layer of molten blood, so distinctively disgusting and uncomfortable that all she wanted to do was run- to kick off her soiled slippers and just run.
Yet, she remained immobile; rooted to the ground like a statue. Caught in her moment of panic, the rancid odour of fresh blood and human waste that invaded her nostrils came as a surprise to her.
She grimaced as human carcass and animal corpses emerged from the millions of tiny blood rivulets. The droplets crawled and linked up like an intricate tapestry of a sinister maker; knitting together skins and organs, but upon completion, their fractured and empty shells were deposited haphazardly like cast away toys; some landed right beside her and some beneath her.
She could have sworn that she stepped on an unfortunate soul's detached ear.
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The future.
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She averted her stare only to be greeted by the sight of the numerous dead, spread out and laid about for her eyes only.
Bile rose to her throat. The rumble of horse hooves, the clamor of steel against steel and the shouts of desperation and pain reverberated in her sensitive ears, an echo of the violent skirmish that has passed.
Her eyes saw soldiers of different nations- men, boys, fathers and brothers, sons and cousins- lying broken and lifeless on the gritty land. Their empty stares, horror-stricken faces, gaping wounds that still dripped tepid blood.
In life, they each had an identity, a name, a connection, a purpose; death robbed them of it all.
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Hopeless.
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Pesky flies flitted from corpse to corpse, enjoying the feast in silence. Cast on the ground, were the shadows of vicious vultures, circling the air, some already swooping down and chewing the strips of flesh with relish.
She suppressed a shudder and unwittingly took a step back, her eyes fixed on those of the scavengers. Like demons in animals' clothing, their beady eyes held no warmth and were focused solely on her frozen stance, mocking and taunting her of the scene before her as they ripped strips after strips of meat from the dead bodies.
She frowned. This was a vision.
A prediction of events to come that she had no way of stopping and preventing.
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And this is but the beginning, taunted the formless voices in obvious glee.
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The future looked bleak indeed.
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So this is the future?
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No, she thought horrified. Surely it could not be true? What of her magic and duty? What of her Goddess? Surely the Gods will not allow this to happen?
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That is enough.
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A torrent of snowflakes, a flare of magic and the horrific scenes before her disappeared.
Now, she found herself standing on dry land. Her feet were clean of grime and blood. Above her, she saw a bright and dazzling sun- the brightest she had ever laid her eyes on and in the air, there was a lingering scent of spring and warmth.
"You cannot fight this," came a melodious voice behind her, tearing her away from her musings.
The lady stood tall and regal, draped in a shimmering gown of lavender and ivory. She possessed an ethereal beauty, easily alluding to her unworldly origins; something evident in her haunting eyes- the fabled windows to the soul, like ice over a frozen lake; that and her sweeping train of silver hair, white like the snow, trailing behind her.
When she spoke, a hint of the cold unforgiving chill lingered.
A will of iron and eyes of lucid blue, the Lady of Winter Moon and Patroness of the Seers and Prophets alike- Lady Shirayuki bid her to rise.
"This?"
"Yes," replied the white lady, gliding as she made her way towards her young prodigy, "precisely this. The future as you saw it."
"This is a losing battle. Rukia," she beseeched, "You must yield."
As her protégé, Rukia shared her patroness's fair skin tone and various attributes. Like her, she was sharp, quick-witted and equally as stubborn.
"The first and foremost rule in our world, my lady is to never assume the future is set in stone." The frown on her face deepened. "You were the one who told me that. Visio-"
"Visions are but one set of possibilities, different outcomes are expected for the different decisions one makes. Death changes nothing; other candidates for the role of the Intended shall arise to fulfill the void. The Intended is the only one truly capable of altering destiny; a Guardian can only guide- a companion and mentor on the Intended's journey, but never the leader," finished the Goddess unperturbed.
"You forget, child. I wrote the Dogma," she seethed.
"Then what makes this particular vision so different that even the Dogma cannot be applied?"
Piercing blue eyes narrowed to slits.
"Do not take that impertinent tone with me, child." Her magic flared about warningly but to Rukia, it was but a flicker compared to the Goddess's powers during the height of her power.
It was not the first time this had happened.
Her eyebrows furrowed.
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How could this be?
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"What's happening to you, my lady?" queried Rukia, the incredulous tone in her voice and her heart was suddenly hammering against her little chest, unwilling to confirm her worst fears.
Shirayuki sighed wistfully. Her millenniums'-worth of toiling about in the name of fate and destiny, advocate for the future and now here she lies, old and broken, barely hanging on and the life of her Guardians especially that of her champion, enshrouded in a mist that even she could not see.
"I am dying."
The sentence echoed with finality in the solemn air. Rukia's mouth was suddenly dry.
Moons ago when she was but a child, her Goddess was untouchable- unbowed, unbent and unbroken. Cold and irreproachable at first glance, within she was the epitome of resilience and wisdom. Her magic was a dazzling show of fire within ice - so powerful and lively, emitting from her, a radiant glow as bright as the morning sun; but now, the light that Rukia once saw was gone.
The shine in her eyes had been dimming as the seasons passed. Yet now, everything was laid bare before her. The signs that she had chosen to willfully ignore for the past few years have finally emerged to haunt her in reality.
Shirayuki was withering away before her. Her glow was steadily diminishing like the setting sun in the west.
It would not last.
Magic was dying, the Gods were dying and with it, the death of Shirayuki followed.
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"How?" she murmured in quiet incredulity. Gods and Goddesses were immortal beings that existed in a dimension above hers; their very essence was the fuel sustaining their chosen Guardians' magic.
The all-powerful and all mighty simply do not die.
"Forgetting is the final death, child of mine," whispered the lady ominously; a resigned smile upon her lips. "From the East, a new God arises. People no longer believe in the Old Ways. Magic wanes."
Beautiful azure eyes interlocked with lavender. "When I finally fade away to emptiness, your magic will give way."
She took another step forward; a cold hand now lying on the side of her champion's cheek. "Now do you see how futile and daunting the task will be?"
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A world without magic?
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Rukia could not begin to imagine such a place but did she really stand no chance of altering the future without it?
Were her abilities so limited that she had solely been relying on magic all along? What of her oath?
Was she not a Guardian?
A fierce glint flashed in her eyes as she tilted her head to meet her patroness's gaze. She was better than that. Even in a world without magic, Rukia would survive and thrive.
Her patroness continued, "Are you prepared to face evil without my protection and gift? To alter the course of events by any means necessary or die a martyr's death."
She needed no answers.
One look in those eyes and the dying Goddess saw her conviction. She nodded in satisfaction. Even in the bleakest of times, Rukia will never surrender. Not while there was still a breath of life within her body, Rukia- Blessed of the Moon will never give in.
"This is your last mission," Shirayuki told her champion. From afar, she could see the rings of black smoke rising from the east, so thick that even the sun was lost behind them. An acute sense of hopelessness and fear lingered.
Death, she shut her weary eyes, was an unknown entity that swallowed everyone and laid waste to everything- it was the ultimate end.
But Shirayuki was neither a weakling nor a coward. Death will be met on her terms, never the other way round and the powerful Goddess would rather burn than die without her dignity intact.
With a sharp intake of breath, she summoned her last and final vision in this realm and beyond; riding out to seek death on her own terms. Elegantly, she splayed her palm wide and from thin air, created a solid sphere of glowing light.
Inhaling sharply, she plunged her hand into the orb.
Her magic pulsated through the still air. Rukia's eyes widened as she felt the shift in her Goddess's aura. She whirled around; arms outstretched in a vain attempt to stop her patroness.
Rukia's face turned grief-stricken. Her Goddess will not survive this!
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"NOOOooooooooooooooooooo!"
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She screamed as the familiar coil of magic tightened about her. Her throat burned, watering her eyes but they both knew she was too late.
White shimmering lights blinded her before the barrage of images and scents slammed against her senses, knocking the wind out of her body.
The sweven went through her body like a shot of pure lightning- sharp, instantaneous and every bit as painful.
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Heat of the desert, chill of the night.
Towards the sky that births all light.
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Rukia gasped for air and delved deeper. With the sacrificial gift of her Goddess, she was plunged deeper than ever into the dark abyss of unlimited possibilities, hurtling past the various moments in time for both the events that have already occurred and those that are to occur in the near distant future.
These pivotal seconds were captured in scintillating globes with a menagerie of smells and sounds; one of which that suddenly glowed and expanded exponentially in size.
Before she could even voice her surprise, Rukia was sucked into the bubble and was caught in the scene as a light pulsated before her. It was so glaringly bright that she averted her eyes on impulse.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she found herself standing on dry ground. Shielding her sensitive eyes, she slowly saw the faint outlines of a mortal being, merely a silhouette, materializing against the backdrop of harsh light.
She dusted the dust from her apparel and stood.
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Right before her eyes, magic took form.
The chassis of the would-be human grew broader and taller; sinewy limbs took shape, muscles and tendons flexed; flesh and blood fused like a quilt of patches, forming the blood vessels, tissue, organs as if knitted by an external force, bit by bit until they were enveloped protectively by a layer of skin; eventually, the individual facial features came to light.
The transformation was complete and he came into focus.
He was gorgeous, a marble of perfection that exuded the prowess and might of the Gods, powers that were intoxicating to her senses, an animalistic rapacity for unworldly forces that enraptured her.
It sang to her. There was a part of her that craved such powerful magic.
His skin was toned bronze while his beautiful set of amber eyes shone unusually clear and bright; shifting constantly between a shade of ominous yellow and amber. A chiseled strong jaw supported the angular and slender face of his. His face, especially his chin hinted at determination and pride; a leader of sorts, a pioneer and the Intended.
He had hair the colour of the fire.
Rukia took a step towards him and the scenes shifted. A kaleidoscopic burst of pictures and noises surrounded her like an angry maelstrom, entrapping her in the eye of the storm as the light dimmed and the nameless man vanished into thin air.
Thousands of fine dust particles sharpened into pixels and translated into colourful views as they assaulted her mind in quick succession.
She blinked and came face to face with her first image.
Here, she saw a defeated man; the same nameless man from before. She stood beside him as he kneeled by the side of a bed, cradling the bloodied form of a formless woman. His shadow of grief and the lingering regret choked her, but she remained upright; a comforting hand resting upon his shoulder.
In silence, they waited for death to run its course. It was an agonizing wait, worse still was the desperate hope that the man was clinging onto- that the woman might still make it. When the woman finally heaved her last breath in this realm, he let loose the most heartbreaking cry that Rukia had ever heard.
A quick flash of light and the images shifted.
With a start, Rukia realized that she could now breathe easier, but the man before her was no longer recognizable. He had turned into a beast of war.
Like a king, he sat imperious on his black steed, menacing and intimidating; even as countless others died around him, he remained unmoved.
Like death he was cold, but in his eyes, Rukia gulped; his eyes were screaming for blood. The look in his eyes promised death and carnage, of that she would never forget.
The following sequences were a blur of motion, both appearing and disappearing too quickly for her to make any sense of them. In one scene, she saw a breath-taking view of sun-set and of another, the setting for a perfect storm- howling of the wind that gave way to thunder and rain.
She saw horses, mountains, a pair of gleaming cat's eye. It continued in that jumbled assortment of random objects until she arrived at the last scene.
From whence she stood, he looked so peaceful. Wrinkles dotted his once handsome face and his eyes held no shine.
Rukia approached his body and kissed his cheek.
It was cold to the touch but she knew; in death, he was granted forgiveness. In the blink of an eye, she was sent barreling back through the terrifying scenes of war, past the haunting picture of man in mourning and landed back in the present.
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Violet eyes snapped open.
Rukia doubled over, crumbling to her knees and clutching her chest; heaving as though she had been running. She sought a nameless man, beautiful but deadly and she will find him when she stands beneath the sky that births all light- East.
East- she must journey east to stop the man. He is the Intended in her sweven.
She nodded. Rukia understood what must be done, but the pained smile on her lips remained; an expression mirrored on the Goddess's face.
A lone tear slid down her cheek- the final act in this bittersweet parting. The Goddess smiled, "My parting gift to you, my child. Do not falter on your path. A-And," her lady's breath caught as she lost her composure for the briefest of a minute before mustering her courage once again to utter her final plea.
"Save them," she whispered.
The white lady erupted into flames.
Powerless, Rukia watched on in helpless despair as malicious blue chains of fire licked away at her lady's clothes, confided only to her form as those snaring tendrils coiled about like snakes and vines. She could feel her tears as her lady shrieked and tossed in sheer agony.
Brighter and brighter, the chains were now burning like embers in a fire, glaring while her patroness's presence flickered. The dazzling light focused and converged and then, the lady was gone.
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Forgive me, my lady.
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Liquid fire seared through her veins as Rukia awoke from her trance.
She threw away any thoughts of self-preservation. If her Goddess could place the future of millions well above her own priority to live, then surely as her champion, Rukia could do no less.
She gathered her waist-length hair into a braid and drew her blade, cutting the thick mane. In a heartbeat, Rukia threw her braided hair into the fireplace, watching emotionlessly as the flames slowly consumed the offering until the strands turned to fine ashes and dust.
Beauty is fragile. She had no need of fragile things. As a seeress, she prided herself for her love of practicality over simple frivolity like hair.
Part of her died that day- along with Lady Shirayuki and her magic. The parts that remained- the Dogma, her oath and her mission; she would do anything to safeguard. So let the flames take the fine offering of her braid and may it be the last thing the hungry fire ever devoured from her.
With one last glance at the burning pile, she began packing for her journey. Her grief and her tears will not stop once she started and she couldn't afford to spare them any time. She had a vision to prevent.
But when all is done, when all wrongs have been righted then, and only then, will she mourn; for the loss of her mentor, for the loss of the life she once knew and for the loss of her magic.
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Author's Note:
Previously a one-shot, now something else entirely. Inspired by BBS Desert Society and Game of Thrones. Angst, slow burn, gore and twists. You have been warned.
First, thank you Black Sun upon an Icy Sky for giving me such a fun and adventurous prompt. It's been a long time coming but it's here. Another nod of thanks to darklover for being an excellent listener and beta-reader, woodrokiro for your vote of confidence.
And last but not least, the Quadforce for the ongoing support and cheering. Rrae, Ari, Vero and Shini know that none of this would have been published this early without your help. XD