Sempiternal Aurora

Prologue

Sunlight drew nearer to its diminished state as the sun of Leoria took leave to the realm of night. Thus was the unseen day succeeded by the unseen night, clouds of frantic terror gathering to mourn forgotten memories, letting loose a storm that not even the hymns of Hathor could soothe. It pounded against the scorched ground, the burnt trees, the scarred walls of a once pristine castle of a once pristine people.

    Echo.

    Bang.

    Clap.

    Bang.

    Echo.

    The screams still haunt the land, the horror still ringing dead silent through the castle. A reminder of what could’ve been, but what never was- lost to the hands of Chronos on the tides of Saturn, whisked away into eternity. How not even Junos could’ve foreseen that fateful night, how not even Odin could’ve prevented its perilous ventures. The rain carries on, echoing through the vacant halls once more.

    At one point, great parties were held thither, walls glistening, halls filled with great feats of both grandeur and of diplomacy. People laughing, having fun, not taking any slight notice to a hint that something might go wrong, because nothing ever did. Not one that couldn’t be fixed, that is, anyway. But alas, not everything can last forever. This night, howbeit, was not one of those nights, and its happiness inspired many a great artist to commemorate such a joyous occasion, one that could’ve lasted forever had the Queen not stumbled ungraciously down a flight of marinian stairs.

The ballroom raged on, much on a night like this, full of both “commoners” and “aristocracy” alike, for the Queendom of Leoria never once discriminated based on social class, for how could they when one never really ever existed? It was open to all, from far and wide, across the known universe in an act of generosity, as it had always been and almost was. The days were never gilded, but shone in high radiance at the brilliance of such splendour, for both the people and their monarchy. Not ever had a single day gone by where another to-morrow was not ensured. Their greatest hope, and their greatest weakness.

One might’ve called it “fake,” but to the Leoriae, it never was. It was genuine, in both thought and in action; only the proponents of anarchy would believe such falsehoods, for they never thought such near-perfection would be possible, yet it was. This is not to say there weren’t insurrections, for there definitely were, but a people are not born perfect- they evolve. This was only possible because those of Leoria never once hid their despairs, never once grieved their losses, never once got stuck in the past. They always looked unto a new dawn, knowing that the day next would be greater, though not by much at times, than the day before- they still believed.

They always found love, even in the worst of times, and they carried on.

Perhaps this is the reason as to why the Sages of Hyronora entrusted the Leoriae with the five lidic inclensiae of dimension. That is, five necklaces for each of the five “dimensions” of creation: aether, nature, time, reality, and psyche. Each of the lidic inclensiae controls a fundamental aspect of creation, and can together act as a catalyst for or against that aspect. Each of the necklaces were under the stewardship of their own “key,” a key being a person chosen by the Sages by generation to guard each of the lidic inclensiae. That was, however, until the Day of Ephemeral Felicity, or of Beleaguer- depends on the planet of study.

On this day, on the twenty-third glasnia(day) of the second revolution of Heximæöphoria(a Leorian month) of the quartia(year) 5e-1,796, a fleet of Blemissiae went to take siege to the capital. Out of greed; out of power. Out of hatred for ineffable harmony. Thus were the Leoriae overtaken- the victory not even pyrrhic. Before that fateful moment, per contra, the lidic inclensiae were sent away through the power of the syzygy at daybreak across the universe as it be known, awaiting the resurrection.

They weren’t the only ones, as the Sousreine, or princess, was also sent away- though not across dimension. She was laid deep with the crystal caverns of Leoria in silent slumber until awoken by all of the lidic inclensiae on the syzygy of the day of her “death.” She knows not the fate of her people, as her mother the “Drunkard” Queen Aure saw that her restful state not be tormented by the nightmares of cessation and bereavement- a final act of kindness. When she wakes, she must with the Keys fight the tyranny of the Blemissiae not only to her, but to foreign, transpacial, people. This is the war.

A war for not one’s self, but for others. Not for glamour, but for liberation. Not for indulgence, but for sacrifice. Many things will come and go as many things will stay and blossom. So she waits, beneath the crushed ruins of her home, unaware of the rain the pounding above her head.

Echo.

Bang.

Clap.
   
Bang.

Echo.

She hears not a single thing.

She sees not the glistening skies.

She knows not the future’s battle.

But neither do the Keys, unaware of how their lives are to change.

It will- for the better or for the worse.

Henceforth, the rain carries on. The storm keeps reverberating through the empty halls. The lightning flashing through the sky, blinding no one. Nature crawls with succession, taking note of every occurence. Animals crawling up the slippery slopes of plant stems, desperate to hang on for dear life. They wait, listening to the cries of the sky, taking hint of naught. They look up, see no predators, and keep on climbing. Maybe they’ll find shelter, maybe they won’t.  In such a hurry they fall, trying to grasp a falling petal, but gone too far to make it, drifting in the wind. They get back up, and they try again.

Perhaps this time they’ll make it, or then again, maybe not. Thunder sounds, and their minute ears rattle with the sounds of a forgotten, far off voice. This time they try harder, climb safer, and make it to shelter to wait out the storm. They slowly drift off to sleep, knowing not what the future has in store for them, and all of their worries are all laid to rest with ease- for the time being. There is a long road ahead of them, and they don’t know where it’s going to lead them. But, they carry on. It is in these moments, at the climax of the storm, that there is most peace- for how could it ever get worse? So, they dream. They dream on. They keep on dreaming, and they don’t stop. For, when upon a day far into the depths of time they wake up, awaiting for them, in both lustre and opulence, will be Elysium drawn in sempiternal aurora.

{Thoughts?}