Click here to read The Creation of Ildathore.
The Creator called Man “Dahn” saying: “As you were first, so you shall be called,” and he named Woman saying: “Ila, for, as she is graceful; so shall she be called.” And he said to them both, “Be free to weave light, Dahn, Ila, exploring. But should you use it for anything but that, your gifted hands will be taken away.” So Dahn and Ila created all living creatures, except for Bethoch and his kindred, who had been interspersed across Ildathore. And all creatures, from the smallest ant to the largest lion, turned to Dahn and loved him, being content. All but one. One creature who looked on him with envy: Bethoch, first of beasts, created by the Creator. The sapphire in his belly turned red, dark. His eyes looked on with envy. And he looked at his claws, so clumsy, so… so… A smile crept upon his face. Deadly. Ila had a son, and she called him Ilahn. And when Ilahn was young, only four passings of age, Bethoch espied the young boy playing in the night, sewing with shimmering threads. His anger doubled, and rage ‘oer took him, so that he flew down, and took Ilahn in his claws, flying off before the eyes of the boy’s mother, Ila. Silver green eyes shone with tears as she watched her child be taken away. Nothing could she do but cry for her husband. But she needed not, for as her lips parted and she took in breath, Dahn swept past in all his fury, running faster than any had ever run before. In his eyes a fire burned… a vengeance. The Creator be cursed for creating such a beast! Dahn’s thoughts ran faster than his legs. The moon’s overhead shone their light, which glinted off the emerald plates of Bethoch. Such beauty gone to waste! His toes pushed down through the soft grass, digging holes in in the spongy turf. And my son… his blood will be on your hands “Oh Maker.” In his anger Dahn pulled from the light, he drew about himself a cloak of reflection, turning away any color. He then extended his left hand letting a silver strand become sharp. As the dragon’s claws do take my son, so will this… dagger take your life, Bethoch, and the life of your offspring. He watched as the beast flew up to a mountain, alighting on the edge of a cave. There he saw it throw down his son, letting the frail head crack. Bethoch landed in front of his mate, dropping the limp form in front of her. He flexed his shining claws, now streaked red. I found the reason for my gift from the Creator… Bethochess stepped back, shielding her two children from the great beast. Her beautiful eyes had never beheld him in such a state. Gelidor, green like his father, and larger of the two young bethochs, stepped from beneath his mother’s wing, sniffing the dead body. Father? he asked, eyes sparkling as emeralds. Did you bring it to eat? The great Bethoch smiled, lowering his head to the level of the young beast. If you wish, but I get his- You monster! Bethochess stood tall, holding her neck high, in strength and confidence. Your sinews were woven from light, and you turn to darkness. You spit on the very Creator, your Lord- I am my Lord! As am I yours! spouted the emerald creature. His silver blue love only swallowed… but held firm. You have killed a child of Dahn… you have broken the creation… that means your name is- “Dragon!” They both turned to see a dark figure striding forth. His cloak falling to the ground in a pool. As he passed through the entrance the all moonlight was blocked out, only the glowing eyes of those around shone light, until the cloak fell away revealing the wrath of man. “You took my son, you took his light.” A dagger of shining silver lit in his hand. The brilliance so piercing you could only stare at it. Lifting a hand Dahn took strands of light from the stone and reformed it, closing it in on the beats… all but one. The little bethochess had been hidden under her mother’s wing… she’d trusted, and stayed back, fearing evil. She had been revolted by the dead body. And now she was helpless. Pulled from the grasp of the great Bethochess. The dragon roared, and his wife shrieked. The Emerald Prince, Gelidor, set every strength against the light… but to no use. Such a lovely little creature, shimmering in silver blue in the light of the moon, wept in the presence of such dark hatred. Her eyes pierced the night, but her voice was not heard. She watched the dagger slide forth, parting her scales, but made no sound, staring up into the face of man. May my death be to your healing. The cold edge touched her heart, scattering the light, and the blue touch of fiery life blew out. For the second time that night, a mother mourned for the life of her child. And as the moon reached its highest point, every creature stopped at the sound of Bethoch screaming, before his final breath. And Ila grieved. When Dahn walked back with the dead in his hands, she rushed forward taking him to her breast. More tears fell that night than the drops of the sea… then the Creator came down. Dahn… what has been done this day? The death of Bethoch and his daughter? Feeling dark, and draped in death, before such a presence, the man had no reply, bowing his head. But Ila, in rage, did stand, her face stained with grief and anger. “You took my child! I lost my boy to your creation! What right have you to question us so?!” The world flashed, indescribably so. Light filled their very minds of so that neither had the will to stand. Both trembled and fell to their faces. I am The Shaper, You are my clay. Unto you did this I not say? And also to Ila my daughter, That anything other than weaving, Would bring this gift to its leaving? Now I do take it, No longer it’s yours. Away from you this power pours. All dimmed once again, falling from a light it ever held. Dahn’s hands lost their golden hue, as did Ila’s their silver glow. Both wept, and Ila spoke. “On this land was my heart split in two. Because of such I shall call it Vanya.” And so happened The Downfall of Man, though not without hope. For as each held the other in their arms, and tears fell together, a tree grew to the side. A tree with a fruit. A tree from the Creator. Written by Bethel and Buddy J. Edited by The Flabbits Copyright © 2018 by The Flabbit Room
3 Comments
Corporal Heath
9/26/2018 10:03:13 am
The darkness comes. For without darkness, the light would be taken for granted. Without the dark, you would never learn to seek after the light. You would never attempt to discover how to live. For the absence of light is dark, and in the absence of light, of true energy and strength, there is also the absence of all warmth. And without warmth, how shall man survive? Indeed, we live from warmth. All things created have a purpose, dark as they may be.
Reply
Buddy J.
10/9/2018 10:42:20 am
Yeah...
Reply
Corporal Heath
10/9/2018 05:06:47 pm
yeah i might have been a little too poetic there... Leave a Reply. |
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