Disclaimer: I own nobody you recognise, except Cel(esté).
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Prologue
The crescent moon cast an eerie glow on the forest clearing, the air unusually cool for July, and the silence so thick it could have been cut with a knife, save the comforting whisper of the cricket-song.
It was all silver. Tall trunks rose from grass so silvered by the moonlight that it glimmered like water. The canopy was not thickly covered; patches of light beamed down onto the glade, shimmering like fine silver dust. An ebony sky held white, glittering stars, watching the twilight evening. Silver branches and silver trees loomed over the clearing, as if anticipating some thing long prophesised and significant. It was all quite still, enchanted somehow. There was life among the trees, although life that did not move. There was a silver tawny owl in the boughs, and silver rabbits sleeping in the undergrowth of the forest.
In the centre of the clearing, however, was a small silver statue, shadowed ivy growing around the base, though the top remained quite untouched. It was the image of a woman, the most beautiful woman one could imagine. Long braids fell in front of her face, and disappeared under a hood, appearing lighter than a feather. Between slanted eyes, was set a perfect diamond, reflecting the moonlight slightly too much, creating the impression that the jewel had light of it's own. The woman's face, though smiling, showed sadness, grief, regret. Her cloaked dress supported many folds, and in long, elegant fingers the statue held a small stone basin. The ivy had almost reached the rim, but in it held the clearest water, water glittering in the light of the Twilight evening.
The statue was the image of the Great Mother Goddess, the mother of mountains and mares. And tonight was Beltane, the sacred night that the barrier between the realms of the gods and the mortal realms could be broken. And great things had been prophesised to happen that midsummer night.
Dancing in the shelter of the trees, a great shimmering shadow crept around the edges of the clearing. Without form or shape, she slid into the light. She was one of the great shadows, not reflecting light but absorbing it, making her in full sunlight, invisible. She hid in shadows, but in her current state could only be seen clearly in full darkness. Slowly, carefully, she whispered sacred words, her voice soft and husky on the cool air. The mist around her glimmered silver, and gave way to form a figure, an unnaturally tall figure, cloaked and hooded, large wings folded against her back. Long legs extended to reveal heeled shoes, and stepped softly onto the silver grass, creating little sound but the soft rustle of clothes, and the thin, whispery chants coming from a face darkened by a huge hood, revealing nothing but a white chin and full lips. Her wings, large even in their folded state, were dragon-like, black, and supported razor-sharp silver spikes on the top of the glossy black bones giving form to the wings.
She went into the centre of the clearing in an odd floating gait. When she reached the statue of the mother, she knelt, spreading out her wings, lowering them to the floor. Out of her cloak she drew a glass pitcher, full of water. Extending long arms, she tipped out the water, the crystal clear liquid splashing in a thin stream into the stone basin. The water shone brightly in the moonlight. The shadow creature bowed her head in a silent tribute, still chanting. The trees groaned, talking to each other, and the wind whispered softly around the clearing.
A crow, black head cocked to one side observed this intently, sat in the branch, soft head feathers fluffing up in the breeze. He extended black wings, highlighted with emerald and sapphire tones, and carried the draft to land softly on the clearing. As the great shadowed woman began to stand, the crow melted and grew in a blaze of deep blue-black light to reveal a man.
He, too was impossibly tall, but bore no cloak, and had no wings. His hair was a dark brown, and flopped in front of bright green eyes. His nose was strong, as if it had met a few hard objects more than once, and had a white scar over the left side. His chin was also strong, dark brows shadowed his face. He shouldn't have been attractive, but something in his aura radiated a strong masculine glow. He looked concerned but calm looking. He wore thief's black, a three cornered tear down one side of a black leather jacket. He walked silently, like he wasn't there at all.
When the shadow woman was standing, the Thief stopped by her right shoulder.
"It is time." He said quietly, although the deep voice echoed through the forest.
"Yes." the woman said, slowly drawing back her hood. He had made her jump when he spoke." The child will find her way. She is one of ours. It will be – surprising If her mother should live." Her voice was soft, though it had the power of a thousand wolves' song.
"There is so much resting on her – and you, sister." As she turned round, she showed her face for the first time. A milky complexion supported dark eyes, which were a haunting shade of deep purple, with black slits for pupils. Two small crystals were in piercings, one below her lips, and one at the left side of her nose, which resembled her brother's. When the dark lady smiled, she showed rows of sharp, white teeth.
" I know there is. This is what I was put in this existence to do. And by our mother, I will do It." and with that, she changed into a black winged horse and fled into the night's sky, leaving the Thief – god to his self.
"It's that which worries me, Celesté." He sighed, and flew off in the other direction as the black crow he had appeared as. They were gods. They had the blessing of power, but the curse of knowledge.
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FOOT NOTE: So, how do you like it? I've left it totally open, so please give me some motivation by reviewing. Should I go on? Or should I give up writing forever? Luv ya forever if you do. Cheers, xxvioletfirexx
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------------------------
Prologue
The crescent moon cast an eerie glow on the forest clearing, the air unusually cool for July, and the silence so thick it could have been cut with a knife, save the comforting whisper of the cricket-song.
It was all silver. Tall trunks rose from grass so silvered by the moonlight that it glimmered like water. The canopy was not thickly covered; patches of light beamed down onto the glade, shimmering like fine silver dust. An ebony sky held white, glittering stars, watching the twilight evening. Silver branches and silver trees loomed over the clearing, as if anticipating some thing long prophesised and significant. It was all quite still, enchanted somehow. There was life among the trees, although life that did not move. There was a silver tawny owl in the boughs, and silver rabbits sleeping in the undergrowth of the forest.
In the centre of the clearing, however, was a small silver statue, shadowed ivy growing around the base, though the top remained quite untouched. It was the image of a woman, the most beautiful woman one could imagine. Long braids fell in front of her face, and disappeared under a hood, appearing lighter than a feather. Between slanted eyes, was set a perfect diamond, reflecting the moonlight slightly too much, creating the impression that the jewel had light of it's own. The woman's face, though smiling, showed sadness, grief, regret. Her cloaked dress supported many folds, and in long, elegant fingers the statue held a small stone basin. The ivy had almost reached the rim, but in it held the clearest water, water glittering in the light of the Twilight evening.
The statue was the image of the Great Mother Goddess, the mother of mountains and mares. And tonight was Beltane, the sacred night that the barrier between the realms of the gods and the mortal realms could be broken. And great things had been prophesised to happen that midsummer night.
Dancing in the shelter of the trees, a great shimmering shadow crept around the edges of the clearing. Without form or shape, she slid into the light. She was one of the great shadows, not reflecting light but absorbing it, making her in full sunlight, invisible. She hid in shadows, but in her current state could only be seen clearly in full darkness. Slowly, carefully, she whispered sacred words, her voice soft and husky on the cool air. The mist around her glimmered silver, and gave way to form a figure, an unnaturally tall figure, cloaked and hooded, large wings folded against her back. Long legs extended to reveal heeled shoes, and stepped softly onto the silver grass, creating little sound but the soft rustle of clothes, and the thin, whispery chants coming from a face darkened by a huge hood, revealing nothing but a white chin and full lips. Her wings, large even in their folded state, were dragon-like, black, and supported razor-sharp silver spikes on the top of the glossy black bones giving form to the wings.
She went into the centre of the clearing in an odd floating gait. When she reached the statue of the mother, she knelt, spreading out her wings, lowering them to the floor. Out of her cloak she drew a glass pitcher, full of water. Extending long arms, she tipped out the water, the crystal clear liquid splashing in a thin stream into the stone basin. The water shone brightly in the moonlight. The shadow creature bowed her head in a silent tribute, still chanting. The trees groaned, talking to each other, and the wind whispered softly around the clearing.
A crow, black head cocked to one side observed this intently, sat in the branch, soft head feathers fluffing up in the breeze. He extended black wings, highlighted with emerald and sapphire tones, and carried the draft to land softly on the clearing. As the great shadowed woman began to stand, the crow melted and grew in a blaze of deep blue-black light to reveal a man.
He, too was impossibly tall, but bore no cloak, and had no wings. His hair was a dark brown, and flopped in front of bright green eyes. His nose was strong, as if it had met a few hard objects more than once, and had a white scar over the left side. His chin was also strong, dark brows shadowed his face. He shouldn't have been attractive, but something in his aura radiated a strong masculine glow. He looked concerned but calm looking. He wore thief's black, a three cornered tear down one side of a black leather jacket. He walked silently, like he wasn't there at all.
When the shadow woman was standing, the Thief stopped by her right shoulder.
"It is time." He said quietly, although the deep voice echoed through the forest.
"Yes." the woman said, slowly drawing back her hood. He had made her jump when he spoke." The child will find her way. She is one of ours. It will be – surprising If her mother should live." Her voice was soft, though it had the power of a thousand wolves' song.
"There is so much resting on her – and you, sister." As she turned round, she showed her face for the first time. A milky complexion supported dark eyes, which were a haunting shade of deep purple, with black slits for pupils. Two small crystals were in piercings, one below her lips, and one at the left side of her nose, which resembled her brother's. When the dark lady smiled, she showed rows of sharp, white teeth.
" I know there is. This is what I was put in this existence to do. And by our mother, I will do It." and with that, she changed into a black winged horse and fled into the night's sky, leaving the Thief – god to his self.
"It's that which worries me, Celesté." He sighed, and flew off in the other direction as the black crow he had appeared as. They were gods. They had the blessing of power, but the curse of knowledge.
-----------------------------------------------//---------------------------
---------------------------
FOOT NOTE: So, how do you like it? I've left it totally open, so please give me some motivation by reviewing. Should I go on? Or should I give up writing forever? Luv ya forever if you do. Cheers, xxvioletfirexx
