Part 1

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"What kind of celebration is this?" you asked for what seemed like the millionth time. 

The hordes of sweaty, eager people surrounded you, pressing you forward and away from the village in a forceful wave. Although the masses bubbled with conversation, you could not get a straight answer from anyone. You had heard that there was a festival of some sort going on at the palace. Celebrations were rare in the Republic of East Gorteau, and people were clamoring to get to the festivities. Yet, despite the joyous chatter of your neighbors, you couldn't help but feel uneasy. There was something strange about being swept along in the crowd. It reminded you of when you and your sister would drive the cows to the edge of the village for slaughter. 

The air was tight and hot and you feared for your safety as the people urged you ever forward toward... what? A surprise. A party. Something good. That was what the announcers on the loud speakers had said, so it must be true. Your mind was dulled by heat and noise as you trudged on, your brain clinging to the dim hope of something pleasant waiting for you down the road. 

After hours of relentless marching, the horizon changed and you could make out the long white line of the palace wall in the distance. You had only seen it once before in your life, when you were very small. It must have been 15 years ago, yet the cold ivory structure was unchanged. The memories came flooding back to you as you approached. Your mother had taken you and your little sister on a journey to the palace to sell some livestock. As she negotiated with the merchants gathered around the wall, you and your sister had traced your hands along the cracks in the stone, following them as far as they would go before your mother noticed and called you back. The memory was precious to you. One of the few good ones you had left. A glimpse into the time before the sickness hit. The time before you knew what true emptiness was. But now, his majesty was throwing a celebration for the people of the Republic of East Gorteau. 

A rare smile graced your lips as you stared up into the purple dusk which crept across the sky above the palace gates. A few stars were visible and the milky disk of the moon was hanging low in the distance. Suddenly, a flash of pastel color caught your eye. A shooting star? A rainbow? No, it was alive. It had wings. Vibrant, shimmering wings. It was much too large to be a bird. Was it a kite? You loved flying kites with your mother before she fell ill. As the creature descended toward you, the wings extended fully and you gasped to see the figure of a man suspended in the air. 

The upturned faces around you were stupefied and you felt your own mouth hang open in awe as the winged man descended, his angelic face smiling tranquilly and framed with gold. And then it happened. An explosion. The sky erupted in a cloud of sparkling droplets. They rained from the heavens and brought with them an intoxicating scent. Your mind grew still, entranced with the glittering fragments which you realized were emanating from the winged man. 

You tried to reach a hand toward the sky to catch some of what was falling, but realized in sudden terror that you couldn't move a muscle. Your fellow villagers seemed to be noticing the same thing, as the expressions on the faces around you began to turn from admiration and confusion to fear. 

As the airborne man drew ever closer to the frozen crowds, you could make out his features in more detail. His skin was flushed with a pale pink light and his head bore a pair of long antennae like those of a butterfly. But the most fascinating thing about your captor's visage was his eyes. They were the color of ripe tangerines and full of a vicious energy that fluttered somewhere between the human world and the animal world. And then you realized. He was looking straight at you. His eyes were boring into you. The masses around you faded into a muddy blur. None of them mattered. You no longer cared that your body was paralyzed. There was no fear. There was no sickness. This was what you had come for. What a beautiful celebration it was. 

The angelic being alighted on the earth near you and strode toward your motionless body, his long, elegant legs covering the distance with ease. His eyes had not strayed from yours and, although your body was at his mercy, you would not have moved a muscle, even if you could. Standing in front of you, he surveyed you from head to toe. You were surprised at his height. He must have been at least 6'2" tall. The insectoid man smiled pleasantly as his wings folded down into a flowing, navy cape. 

"You" was all he said. His long arms reached toward you with an eerie tenderness and your form became limp at his touch. 

Still unable to move, you watched in peaceful acceptance as the ground moved away from you and you were lifted into the sky on rainbow wings. The hordes stretched out across the flat expanse below, every face turned toward the sky. Each expression was the same – vacant, distant, and unaware. You were special somehow. And you were leaving them all in the dust. Not a single face was special to you, anyway. They were all the same. Since the dreadful sickness had overcome your mother and sister, nothing had mattered. The wind blew cool on your face as darkness fell. You glimpsed the courtyard of the palace below, growing ever closer, and then sleep claimed you without warning.

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