For Rivi and Nefer-Nut
Where she passed by, there were sunflowers a many and she was already at the river shore, where she was washing her intense and colorful hair, already in bane.
The field of sunflowers, their golden beauty, indifferent to her secret war; even the wind didn't give a damn about her whispers, it flew all over the field of gold as usual and from it, the flown pollen, provoked a violent fit from the lonely girl with the blood ridden locks.
It was too much for the fairy river, it had mistaken her tainted hair for real blood.
It could not wash away her true nature and destiny.
The fairy river bled in solidarity for her.
But she could not see the bleeding, she roared, she cried, but not a shudder of sympathy from the field of gold nor the wind.
Only from her tears dropped into the river, she saw her face, still shrouded in the curtain of her crimson hair, but the fairy river reflected back something more...it was shining beneath the shallow riverbed.
She clawed for it and now it was on her hands. Pieces of ancient gold.
The pieces shone its allure to her, a realness to her, she dared not to question its revelation.
She held them aloft toward the false heavens, the earthly dominion of the Telson Hosts.
Her devious ears heard the nearby thunderstorms but that did not worry her; she took the storms as a sign, as her own manifestation and will against the Telson Mandate, her will against them, her promise for all to commence the Great Return back to the surface, once the accursed gales of winter is lifted.
The pieces of her gold, were now bathed not in sunshine, but bathed by the light of the thunders, revealed an impression before her, the historical epiphany of a familiar golden mask.
Then she imaged herself as him, the first to defy the very heathen gods themselves. Him, standing somewhere in the endless steppes of the wild, him wielding a tail baton to whisking away any ill wishes and curses, and he was always wearing the humble garments suitable for riding against the cruelty that was the Ol' Majesty of No End.
...
There is no fall, but summer and winter.
For winter is here. But the otherly Drought cackled.
For its sea was reaping no riches, but the dead from the other side.
But soon, they shall reap the riches they desire...but at a cost.
From the distant far east of the mainland continent, the Inland Caliphate had issued an order for the capture of Gabriel Pregonero, and anyone associated with him.
The lil winged devils of the Empire, the Discreet Eyes of the Imperial Sovereign, could not fly over Bastille, a no fly zone, but that issue will soon be over, for this ironclad of a isle, will trade once again with Kamelung.
Due West, Industrial Port Docks of the Isle of Bastille.
LORCRUM –GENDARME- RIVERGUARD
(His inner thoughts)
"Could the father and the son be here, facing westward...?
They both stopped dead in their tracks. The Imperial Wizard, was already at the gas-lamp pole, standing there as usual, like a ghost, but never drifting away from the power of sea and its wind. Lorcrum could not see the infamous scorpion tail of the mechanical mage.
YOU ARE READING
CORAZÓN AGUIJÓN (Crónicas de los Infra-Reinos) by DeLeon Cortes A.
Fantasy"The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction" -William Blake-
