Until Darkness Ascends

CHAPTER ONE

Altair stood on the grand staircase of the Olympian Kingdom. He stood rigid with his hands perfectly folded in front of him and a steely gaze upon his Master, his blood-red wings extended slightly to his sides. He was called upon early in the morn to escort the God of Gods to a reunion with Aminediyl in the Grand foyer, and as customs mandated, he stood at a distance with the rest of the quintet.

Master Zeus, admittedly, was far stronger than any archangel. Even Altair, the strongest of his species, wouldn't stand a chance in a battle. But the Gods liked being accompanied by others, enjoying being at the top of the social hierarchy.

It was all...social tradition and it bored Altair to the highest extent, but he valued his duty. He was proud to be an archangel, proud to serve his role to the Olympians, and would fiercely fight in their stead when commanded.

The Gods didn't like to get their hands messy with the blood of war contrary to the stories. Olympians far preferred watching war from afar like it was a common sport. No, the only time the Gods fought was to avenge their lovers.

But those wars were a distant memory much like women.

It seemed as if the lack of motherhood and femininity in the world swallowed the sun, the stars, and the moon. Harvests were light in all the Kingdoms and natural disasters ravaged the outer regions. The pious believed the Gods were punishing them, the Gods knew the situation was far more dire.

For the past five centuries the population of women steadily fell, and the babes birthed were boys. Among the Gods were no Goddess, not anymore. In fact, the only females in existence were a few human women, a female in Voltulora, and Khadija, the truemate of another archangel. Khadija was barren, however, and the human women of Earth could only birth boys.

The Gods could live without the harvest, but no other species could. It was alarming how fast it seemed the world was ending.

Altair resisted the urge to readjust his stance.

No, it didn't seem. The world was ending. Without Goddesses meant no fertility and no light. No fertility meant no children. No light meant no harvest. The world had fallen into an ever-lasting, pervasive, terrible, cold darkness. No one knew why females seemed to be disappearing, even Zeus himself.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved. He'd lived far too many eons. The reality, while pessimistic, was that archangels would go extinct and eventually the other species would as well until only the Gods lived.

Gods couldn't venture out of their specific reign. Ares couldn't sprout a tree, Zeus couldn't create females, and Apollo couldn't warm the frosted world. Women could. Women did. The world was unbalanced without females and Gaia yearned for it to be restored.

The low timbre of Zeus' bellow resonated through the hall. The reunion ended sourly as the two parted ways. Zeus marched away, coming toward his quintet with a particularly angry scowl. The archangels waited a few paces before starkly turning and following.

The males traveled up the grand stairs and down the Olympian halls. The palace was a sight of power, one that humans dreamt of seeing but never did. Zeus pulled the doors to the outside open and stalked out onto the terrace. Again, the archangels took their positions on the outskirts as their master scowled at darkened, pathetic sky.

A cross of lightning shot through the raven cloud above, an indicator of just how sour Zeus' mood was. "Altair."

The archangel in question left his spot near the door and walked to his master.

"Do you remember the last time the sky was lit?"

"Four hundred and ninety-five, master, right after the Fallen War of Voltulora. It was the last full harvest we experienced, and the last female archangel was birthed in Selmat."