Hey guys, this is my first time writing an original story so I implore you to be gentle.~ For those looking for a quick release, sadly, there is no sex in this chapter- this only sets the story itself up and is actually quite a few years in advance of the actual plot. There will be interesting things to coming in the future for sure though, so do not despair.
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Smoke was thick in the air on that fateful day, as ragged tangled hair flew through the hair, as tattooed hands flew through the air over darkly clouded eyes. The seer peered through the smoke and screens, and regarded the two girls before her. Though perhaps girl was the wrong term to use, though still young, one was long past her adolescent years and had comfortably grown into womanhood. On her knees, with her thighs balanced on her calves, she was already taller than the seer, and many of the smaller citizens of the land.
Tall and muscular, even through the haze and the layers of ceremonial robes, it was easy to tell the hard, sharp lines of the body, and even more the sharp line that had been cut through her eyebrow and down through her eyelids. The fine line of her scar had been a testament to how very lucky this woman had been, any deeper and she would have been sure to lose her eye- and a deadly loss to her depth perception. This was a woman whose element of comfort was the battlefield, a woman who more comfortable commanding troops than she was commanding the soft lives of those more agrarian or business minded.
A woman who was next in line to rule over all within the borders of the great land of Rhuyan.
Next to her sat a girl of perhaps fifteen springs, maybe more, perhaps less. She sat shorter than her companion, but most anybody would look short in comparison to a woman of such unusual stature. She sat wrapped in a cloak of artificial feathers, made to imitate that of her namesake- the Kestrel. The 'feathers' were composed of the fine downy product of trees that covered the geography of Rhuyan, farmed and unfarmed. They were native only to their mountain landscape, and their most famed exported product whenever trade could be established with the remote Rhuyani peoples. Her cloak was dyed with the most luxurious soft browns, and dotted sparsely with feathers of fallen kestrels themselves. Kestrel's hair was long, and seemingly uncut but for perhaps the occasional trim to retain its quality. Today it lay unbound, free upon her shoulders and down her back, its colour so similar to that of her cloak that a discerning eye was needed to tell where her hair would end and her cloak to begin.
She was also to be a woman of battle as all those of nobility are required to be, though she only trained at this moment, the time to initiate her into the ranks was not far at hand. Her legs were thin, but her stance was unshakeable, and already they had developed some muscle on her thighs on calves.
Kestrel was a girl who was full of promise, and second in line to rule behind her hero and sister, Amya of Boars.
All this information was processed by the seer, though some she had been informed of, or had inferred, earlier. But it was not her conscious mind that controlled her at this moment, but her subconscious in the thrall of a higher power. In fact, none of what the seer saw was through her eyes, but filtered through the delicately contrived symbols on her hands. They were that of wide-open eyes, and it was through these that the seer perceived her world, through her eyes her seemingly immortal patron could see all. For though she was seer now, she came from a long lineage of seers, of men and woman who gave up possession of their own sight and life to share in a perception far beyond their own. Their own intuition was replaced by a voice that whispered, a voice that quietly commanded in their subconscious. It was this voice that has brought her the Rhuyan in the first place, though it was not by any means an unexpected visit, as for the past centuries the prospective monarchs of Rhuyan had enjoyed, or cursed in some cases, the cryptic words of the patron spoken through the seers lips. Words that could penetrate the smoke, the screens, and the haze into the recipients hearts, just as those unblinking eyes saw.
Her arms outstretched before her, they swept outwards before crossing over her chest, and her hands settled over her cloudy unseeing eyes, wrists crossed and fingers grasping into her temples. A sharped ear-wrenching gasp wrought her body through lips that were barely visible behind her wrists. As her back arched, she found herself brought down to her knees, elbows brought down hard upon the table in support. Her visage was engulfed in the ceremonial incense that was lit to invoke her current state.
A low voice spoke like that of feet upon the rockiest of beaches, one that contrasted to the soft lilting voice of the conscious seer, a voice that seemed to speak with and impossible amount of assurance and knowing.
"
You
."
The seers entire torso turned, hands still clasped tightly over her face, the unreal glare of those wide eyes focused solely on Amya. Though she did not react to its gaze, she could only assume that she was being regarded by an entity greater than the seer, greater than herself, and it unsettled her greatly for reasons she could not place. She was not alone, and lesser people than her had broken down and wept in the face of such greatness. All that kept Amya's face stone still and her limbs from trembling greatly was sheer determination from the thought of the example she would be providing to her younger sister. Kestrel had, to her knowledge, never seen her in a vulnerable state- and Amya refused to let that start now. Though she was strong, she was fallible, as all humans were, but as long as she lived she wanted her sister to think she was an unstoppable force that did not falter. Some would call that arrogance, but it was born out of a sentiment that perhaps Kestrel herself could grow into the woman that Amya pretended to be.
"
The decision has been made. Your life here. Now. Useless. Worthless. You are bigger than your trappings- and you shall abandon them
..." An ugly sounding cough wracked through the seers body, but she continued on, "
Cut free of today and lay in eternity with dreams
." None of it really made sense to Amya, as many prophecies never seemed to make sense to their recipients- quite in fact, it was hardly understood by the seer herself. Her patron said so much more than her mind could process, and what tumbled out of her mouth in that low voice were simple paraphrases of the endless knowledge that her mind supported for these short minutes.
But what was said next was unprecedented, and not even Amya could keep a look of complete unfiltered shock from taking over her face.
