In the land of Antithesis, the Golden Lake mirrored a sky split between fire and frost.
There was no sun, yet the world glowed in eternal twilight. By the shore knelt a woman, her skin shimmering with a soft, inner gold. Her lips, redder than blood, pressed into a thin line.
She dragged a fingertip through the liquid—viscous gold bled from the wounds of the humming trees nearby. Ripples spread, fracturing her reflection into a thousand shards. When the surface stilled, the pieces refused to fit back together.
Behind her, the air shuddered. The heavy beat of a hundred pairs of wings stirred the air.
She did not turn. She knew the rhythm of departure.
She closed her eyes, slipping back to the beginning. To the only moment that had ever truly been hers.
At first, there was only light.
Then, will became form. Her eyes manifested—amber, burning with living fire. The first blink was slow. Heavy. Above, the two halves of the sky locked in a trembling stalemate. Below, the lake was a sheet of blazing gold, straining beneath a forgotten weight they were forged to bear.
Then, the trees.
They towered over her, giants with branches bowing low like supplicants. But one held her gaze. Its leaves did not just shimmer; they burned. Living flame flickering red-gold against the twilight.
She did not yet know the word for warmth. She only knew she craved it.
Her form obeyed the need. Feet materialized beneath her. She hit the ground running—across frost, through water, over grass.
Too slow.
Wings exploded from her back in a rush of heat and color—amber, molten gold. She laughed, surprised by the sound, and launched herself forward, throwing her arms around the burning trunk.
The tree welcomed her.
Only then did she notice the others.
They stood in a perfect circle, watching. Beings of gold, and among them, one of ice and one of flame. Their eyes were narrow. Their weapons raised.
The dark-skinned one stepped forward first, graceful despite wielding a spear of flame. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"
The girl shook her head. Her lips had formed.
She turned to see the blue one. Glasslike skin, wings of frost. She stood apart from the others, weapon raised. But her eyes held warmth.
The girl charged.
The Frost Woman flinched, stepping back. She gripped her weapon, but the girl wasn't attacking. She was laughing.
One step.
Another.
The Frost Woman moved backward, then froze. The blade in her hand lowered an inch. Before she could raise it again, the girl was there, throwing her arms around her.
The woman's shoulders relaxed. Her arms rose, slow and trembling, and returned the embrace.
The dark-skinned woman screamed. "Syralis, get away from her! You—what did you do?"
The girl tilted her head, trying to see the woman who shouted. But Syralis held tighter, her voice low. "It's fine. Stay close to me."
She refused to let go, shielding the girl like a child finding warmth in her mother's arms. The girl giggled, delighted.
The warrior's face twisted in rage. She struck out with a lash of flame, but the girl didn't even flinch. Syralis moved first, her body a frozen shield blocking the strike.
The girl clapped her hands. A game. She broke away from Syralis's warmth and rushed toward the woman standing as the flame.
The warrior lashed out again. The weapon sliced into the girl's arm.
Blood welled up—bright, hot, sudden.
"No!" Syralis screamed, lunging. Several golden-winged ones grabbed her arms, holding her struggling form.
The girl flinched. Her body convulsed, but she did not pull away. Instead, she looked down at the crimson streak, fascinated.
She smiled.
She stepped closer.
The woman stumbled back, spear leveled, but the girl followed. The warrior's jaw tightened. Her resolve withered under that guileless gaze. Her fingers slackened. The weapon hit the grass.
She stood rooted as the girl closed the distance and wrapped her arms around her waist. Tears streamed from the woman's flame-bright eyes as she finally reached out to hold the girl back.
Syralis tore herself free with a snarl, throwing the golden ones back. She rushed to the girl's side, wrenching the other woman away. Her teeth were gritted, but her hands were gentle as she hovered over the bleeding wound.
The warrior did not react to Syralis's rage. She remained frozen, bereft of the embrace that had felt like a mother's warmth. Her voice was quiet. "Who are you? What are you?"
"Aurenya." The girl pointed at her own chest. She did not know how, but she knew the sound belonged to her. The warrior paused.
The dark-skinned woman closed her eyes. For a moment, she felt like a child again. The voice washed over her. It was the hum of life's beginning—a memory the universe had long forgotten.
Her gaze flickered to the massive Tree of Flame, then to the Tree of Frost in the distance, before returning to the girl. Her head bowed slowly.
"Aurenya Flameborn. That is your name." Soft, tender. "From now on, you are my sister. Would you like that?"
Syralis opened her mouth to protest. Too slow. The newborn girl nodded without hesitation.
The obsidian warrior's lips curved. "I am Kaelira Flameborn. We are Saelari. From now on, we will protect you. If you allow us."
Aurenya watched her, eyes wide and curious, lacking any framework to understand devotion.
"Kaelira, sister." The weight of the words felt right.
She whispered her own name again. "Aurenya... Aurenya Flameborn."
"Syralis Frostborn. My name."
Syralis stepped forward. Her frost-blue eyes fixed on Aurenya, carrying the hope of a heart poured into a single gaze. "Sister... Me too."
Aurenya laughed.
The golden grass brightened beneath her feet. "Syralis... I am Aurenya. Aurenya Flameborn! Sister."
A collective gasp rippled through the Saelaris. They stared at her smile, then bowed as one, their faces flushed with reverence.
The vision's gold bled into muted amber.
Aurenya's fingers dug into the soil. She lifted a fallen limb of the Tree of Flame. She pressed the wood to her chest, drawing the last of its fading warmth into her skin.
A hand settled on her shoulder.
Lirika stood over her, her skin glowing with the gold of the tree that birthed her.
"Don't be sad," she whispered. "It might just be a horde of 'Crawlers'. We will clear them out quickly and return to you."
She met Aurenya's gaze for a single, silent heartbeat before her hand fell away.
Aurenya turned back to the lake. Behind her, sparks swirled around Kaelira's amber wings, hungry for the sky.
Beside her, Syralis stood ready. Her hand transformed, morphing into a sword of ice.
The other saelaris stood as a legion of glittering gold, thousands of wings interlocked. They faced the horizon, where the sky's gold curdled into bruised, sickly violet. At the boundary, the air rippled with the frantic clawing of things that should not exist.
Aurenya moved toward the ranks, the distance between her and the army felt vast. Absolute.
"Sister..." Her voice thin. "Can't... can't one of you stay with me? Just this once?"
Kaelira turned. The red in her eyes softened.
"Aurenya, my sister." Her voice ground like shifting stone, yet carried warmth. "How I wish I could. But our number has been fixed since before you were born. We have roles that cannot function without the others."
She gestured to the ranks of warriors.
"Cirelle echoes her voice, stopping their advances. Lirika spreads the trap to catch the spillover. Every one of us must do what is required to fight the millions of the horde. Our powers are specialized for fighting Chaos Beings. If even one of us stays behind, the line breaks."
Kaelira stepped closer. The heat radiating from her breastplate pressed against Aurenya's face. "And so, we must all go."
Aurenya scanned the hundreds of warriors before looking back at her sister. She did not cry—she didn't know how. But her wings slumped until the tips dragged through the golden liquid.
"Then take me too." A whisper. "I will—"
"No. You can't."
The words cut before Kaelira could soften them. She let out a slow breath, her shoulders sagging.
"Aurenya... it is too early for you. Wait a little longer. Once you have your own strength, we will go together."
She searched Aurenya's face, marked with sorrow and acceptance. "Won't you trust us, sister? Please..."
Kaelira, the obsidian-skinned warrior, knelt before Aurenya.
In perfect unison, hundreds of golden Saelari bowed their heads, wings spreading in a wave of reverent silence. Their jaws tensed. Their grips on their weapons tightened. Asking permission to leave. Asking permission to protect her.
Aurenya felt the weight of their gaze. 'I cannot let them carry my sadness into battle.'
She forced her drooping wings to lift and pressed her hand over Kaelira's burning gauntlet. She offered a small, brave smile. "I will wait for you." She stepped back to clear their path.
Kaelira nodded and rose to her feet. She opened her mouth to shout. "Legion, prepare to—"
The command died on her lips. She froze, scanning the ranks.
"Where is Syralis?"
The question rippled through the army. Heads turned. Warriors scattered through the groves, searching the shadows. But the frost-blue sister was gone.
Kaelira caught a rustle beneath the heavy, glowing fronds. She marched toward the spot, her boots leaving scorched, black footprints in the golden grass. She found Syralis tucked behind a pillar of leaves, crouched and silent.
Without a word, Kaelira gripped the back of the frost-plate armor and hauled her toward the formation.
"Did you really think that would work?" Kaelira grumbled.
Syralis didn't speak, but she locked her knees. Her heels carved two lines of jagged ice into the ground.
"Not this time." Kaelira didn't let go.
"Last time you made us stall and return. The chaos beings nearly breached the border. Do you not understand how dangerous this is?"
Syralis scowled, her breath forming a cloud of diamond dust. "She's sad. Alone."
"Syralis, you know our duty. We were born to—"
"But I can't! She wants us—"
Kaelira's gaze flared white-hot, the air shimmering. "Say one more word and I will draw my weapon on you."
Syralis didn't flinch. Ice crystallized up her forearm, shifting into blade-sharp edges along her fingers. She shifted her weight forward.
The golden ones rushed back. Conversations died. Several stepped back as frost crept across the ground from Syralis's feet while heat waves shimmered around Kaelira's clenched fists. Fire and ice, ready to clash.
Then Cirelle, a gold Saelari, stepped between them. She didn't touch either—the temperature extremes made that impossible—but her presence broke the line of tension.
"Are you two really going to do this here? Now?" Cirelle's head tilted toward the shore. "She can still see you."
Kaelira and Syralis flinched. Their eyes snapped apart as their weapons dissolved into palms.
Cirelle turned and walked toward the ranks, leaving the sisters in a hushed, tense bubble.
"Syralis, don't be impulsive." Kaelira's voice was a low rasp, angled away from Aurenya. "Our mothers are here to watch over Her. She is safe, however lonely. We cannot risk the alternative."
Wings furled tight, Syralis refused to move, her eyes locked on the girl by the shore. Kaelira gripped the edge of the ice-cold armor.
"Syralis, please. Look at the boundary." Kaelira pointed toward the horizon. "That saturated purple isn't normal. It warns of millions of Crawlers, or worse—the Amorphous. We could be facing a full army."
A tremor ran through Kaelira's wings. "And if the line breaches, a creature of the Abyss might enter. Have you forgotten the Great Sundering? That beast devoured two deities before vanishing into the void."
At the mention of the Sundering, a ripple of primal dread passed through the legion. Hundreds of eyes flicked toward Aurenya.
The girl stood ankle-deep in the liquid, waving with a smile of crushing innocence. 'She is weak... vulnerable,' Kaelira thought. 'We must protect her first. No matter what.'
Kaelira wrenched her gaze from the shore. Her jaw set into a hard line, but her wings twitched with restless heat. On the bank, Aurenya stood with her small shoulders squared—a desperate, fragile mask of courage.
"Move out." Her voice sounded brittle as she rounded on Syralis. "Don't make me repeat myself. As long as the seal holds, nothing can reach her. We cross the boundary to ensure it stays that way."
Syralis exhaled. "I am worried... something feels..." She trailed off, her fingers twitching against the hilt of her blade. "I don't want to leave her alone."
Kaelira did not turn. She anchored her weight forward, her boots biting into the soil. Her wings twitched with restless heat—a silent mirror to the Frostborn's agitation—but she forced her gaze to remain on the horizon.
"The duty is fixed, Syralis. You know that too." Kaelira's voice dropped. "There was never another option."
Syralis lowered her head. Her fingers curled into a tight fist. "Yes." A whisper to the soil. "You are right."
Kaelira exhaled slowly. She gave a sharp nod.
"Take off!"
The air exploded. Hundreds of wings snapped open in unison, sending a shockwave across the gilded pools. A wall of golden liquid crashed onto the shore, drenching Aurenya.
She stood there, shielding her eyes against the wind. Above, streaks of amber and silver tore into the purple sky, leaving her alone in the silence.
The downdraft died. Silence settled over the realm, heavier than before.
Aurenya sank onto the bank, dipping her toes into the golden liquid. A thin melody escaped her lips, though the sound felt fragile against the vast, empty sky.
Her gaze drifted toward the trees. "Hello? Virelya? Will you speak to me today?"
Burning veins flickered along the branches of the Tree of Flame. But the giant remained silent. No answer came.
Her lips parted to call again, but the silence was too heavy. It felt impossible to break.
Knees drawn to her chest, she curled inward. She pulled her wings tight around herself, the flickering flames forming a trembling cocoon to shut out the quiet.
The stillness stretched until a voice reached her. Low, rough, and strangely familiar.
"It was a long day..."
Aurenya's head snapped up.
The voice vibrated in the small, warm space between her skin and her tucked wings. She threw them wide, amber eyes darting.
She remembered the high, thin wail of the creature from long ago. 'Please, miss angel... heal my mother.'
Back then, she had touched the air, searching for the source of that begging, but her fingers had met only the cold void. Just like now.
She didn't need to see the creature to know; she could taste the familiar essence in the sound. But this sound was deeper, filled with heavy stillness. She reached out, her fingers brushing the empty air where the voice seemed to linger.
"I'm here." She whispered. "You're back?"
The voice spoke again, closer, as if the speaker stood just behind her shoulder.
"My mother died today. She was kind—told me stories about angels, how they grant wishes to good children."
"What's a mother?" She asked reaching out, her fingers closing on nothing but luminous air. "What are you?"
She waited for an answer, but the voice moved on, weaving words into shapes she had never seen.
When the stories ended, Aurenya looked around her empty realm. She pressed a hand to her chest, following the phantom ache left by the voice.
"Are you lonely too?" She asked the air. "Is that why you keep talking, even when you can't hear me?"