✶ ON ANGELIC NAMES Though angels already existed in Oremisian astrotheology prior to the Proselytisation and its forced syncretization into the tenets of the Bascan Church, it was not until this same forced adaptation that -iel and -ael names came to denote angeldom. As a result, post-Accord astrotheologists refer to the angels Huzurion, Nereïan, Aurellya, and Nymiria as Huzuriel, Nerehiel, Orelliel, and Nymiriel.

Long ago, before the formation of the Kingdom of Basca and the birth of golden Oremis on its sprawling central hills, a comet raced through the cosmos of something it could not quite name. Suddenly, it heard a voice cry out, “Why do you go so fast?”

Now, it is very difficult to get a comet to change directions, but this one tried; and its two sunward tails began flickering with the effort of altering its course to find the source of that mysterious, beckoning sound. You may not know this, but not all cosmic creatures, beings, and entities can understand one another, though it is true that they all have their own methods of communicating. One can turn to the moon and the Mother upon it to see the craters wrought by asteroids and meteors who could neither change their courses nor ask the Mother to move out of the way, and know that not even the cosmos had the pleasure of knowing one another all the time.

As the comet raced to the sound, the voice changed. At first it sounded like an incarnation of the Mother, beckoning; and then it sounded like the voice of a beast warding away intruders from its territory. When the comet came upon the most beautiful planet it had ever seen, both voices made sense, and it rushed, rushed, to break through its atmosphere and find the source that spoke to it.

“Will you come to me?” said the Mother-voice. “Will you meet me?”

“Who do you think you are?” said the Beast-voice. “Who gave you the right to come to me?”

And when the comet hit the earth in a swathe of land made up of sweeping hills and a river that ran all the way to the sea, those which the comet contained found that both voices were real. Over the years, the earth would grow over the crater formed by the implosion, but the site of impact would later become sanctified for the city that was built upon it: the Oremisian Temple, devoted to the worship of the Mother and all her facets, now sits atop it. But that won’t be for many, many generations yet.

From out of the comet emerged two angels: the elder of the two, four-winged and golden-eyed, was called Aurellya, and the younger of the two, two-winged and storm-eyed, was called Nymiria. Aurellya’s wings were dark, translucent, a product of the stars, while Nymiria’s wings were white like frost, cold as space. Aurellya’s power spiralled from her and unto the earth, sparking a connection to the vast network of dormant ley lines beneath these sprawling hills; and when Nymiria took a sip of the water from the river that bisected the city, her power seeped into it, too.

“WHO WALKS TO ME?” said the Mother-voice / said the Beast-voice. “WHO WALKS TO ME?”

The voice came from a fissure in the ground that trailed away from the comet. When the sisters walked to the chasm and peered down, they saw, simultaneously, the vision of a beautiful woman reaching up toward them and a red-eyed beast with the snout of a dragon and the eyes of a hawk, half of its face melted off to show muscle and sinew underneath.

“SAVE ME,” said the Mother-voice.

“I DARE YOU TO SAVE HER,” said the Beast-voice.

At once, Aurellya and Nymiria knew that they could not do it alone. “We will come back for you,” they swore to the Mother-voice, and though she wept after them, Aurellya and Nymiria returned to the site of their comet, and pressed their palms together, and opened a line of communication to the angels they left behind.

“Help,” they broadcasted to anyone who would hear them. “Angels of the cosmos, help us!”

And two angels, one who brandished a sword that would never dull and the other in possession of heaven’s holiest fire, heard their call and descended upon the earth in a whirlwind of rain and flame. The first of these was the angel Nereïan, Heaven’s Hunter, capable of transforming into a beast of any making, four-winged and broad-shouldered; and the second of these was the angel Huzurion, six-winged and sun-crowned, whose eyes were burnished gold and whose fire echoed with the glory of the cosmos, The Refiner.

“SAVE ME,” said the Mother-voice.

“YOU CANNOT SAVE HER,” said the Beast-voice.

Together, the four angels, two-winged and four-winged and six-winged, returned to the chasm in the earth where the red-eyed beast now lost more of its face, bone now exposed, brain now exposed, flesh darker than the earth, the smell of blood and rot rising from the underground. The beautiful woman was weeping tears of diamonds as she was pushed further down to the core of the land.

“I HAVE PREPARED FOR HER THE GRAVE,” said the Beast-voice, “FOR IF SHE WILL NOT BE MY BRIDE, SHE WILL BE NO ONE’S MOTHER.”

“SAVE ME,” said the Mother-voice a third time, and the angels were spurred into action.

Frost-winged Nymiria summoned sleet and rain to distract the beast, icicles falling into its eyes, lodging themselves into exposed rib as the beast dragged itself out, maw wide, sharp teeth bared. Star-winged Aurellya and iron-willed Nereïan drew on their otherworldly strength and grabbed the beast by its ripped, broken, leathery wings, bones jutting out; and though the angels’ hands burned when they came into contact with the beast’s cursed skin, they persevered.

Sun-blessed Huzurion flew into the cavern. The weeping woman was further into the ground than he anticipated, but his wings did not tire, and everywhere he went, light followed, brightening the darkness, expelling fear.

“You have come for me,” said the Mother-voice. “You have come to rescue me.”

And so Huzurion did just that, gathering the woman into his arms, leaving behind her diamond tears to lodge themselves into the earth, and as Huzurion flew past them, the colour of his holy flame was absorbed by these diamonds, which Oremeños today mine and call sundrops, the most exquisite of the Oremisian precious jewels.

Once she was in the full open air, the beautiful woman transformed, lengthening in a flash of light, and she revealed herself to be the First Incarnation of the First Mother, Magic herself, font of all magics. But her time underneath the earth in the grasp of the beast left her weakened, and she could not dispel the beast on her own.

“Then we will aid you,” said the four angels, and as Magic drew on the earth, the air, the water, and the fire, the angels dispersed themselves and planted themselves in the cardinal directions, equidistant from the beast which thrashed and snapped its teeth at them.

Magic’s ritual lasted for seven days and seven nights, and the angels stood guard. Nymiria caused the ground to freeze, but she did not fall. Aurellya caused the ground to shake, but she did not fall. Nereïan caused the winds to beat the earth, but he did not fall. Huzurion caused a blazing, scorching fire, a purifying heat, and he did not fall.

The beast continued to fight, but on the eighth day, Magic completed her ritual. “It is time,” she said, and instead of pupils, there were stars in her eyes, a direct link to the cosmos that birthed her, the tie that had no end.

“BEGONE,” said the Mother-voice.

“BEGONE,” said two-winged Nymiria. Behind her, the Taliár River sprang to life and crested like a wave.

“BEGONE,” said four-winged Aurellya. Underneath her, the ley lines shimmered to life and illuminated the runes that Magic had inscribed onto the earth.

“BEGONE,” said four-winged Nereïan. From above him, the winds coalesced and tunnelled into the ground and to the west, where the western forests rose.

“BEGONE,” said six-winged Huzurion. All around him, fire crested and shimmered and coalesced. Magic knew he would speak last.

Magic looked at him, and smiled, and fell to the ground, dragging the beast down with her. “BURN,” she said, and Huzurion, whose magic shaped itself into a key, a spear, a dagger, a sceptre, sun-crowned Huzurion obeyed.

His magic shoved the beast back into the chasm, and burned off the rest of its flesh, and exposed its bone, and showed that it had been nothing but the fears of the land that had been allowed to fester, grow poisonous.

“BURN,” he repeated in the language of the angels, and the beast burned.

“I AM NEVER GONE,” the beast roared as Huzurion flew away from him. “I AM ALWAYS ALIVE.”

“BURN,” said Magic and the four angels, and together, they sealed the beast away, never to be heard from again.

“You saved me,” said the Mother-voice once the ordeal was through. “But I must ask one more favour from you.” She looked around at the land where she had been trapped, ravaged by magics of the earth and the sea and the sky and the sun. “Will you watch over them and watch them grow? Will you bring them back to life? Will you protect them?”

And the angels, two from the comet, two from the cosmos, said yes.