Vorlan had withdrawn into his sanctum following the imprisonment of Gorondos to meditate on the happenings in the mortal lands. He had argued bitterly with Forynda for centuries, even millennia, that her fears had been ill-founded, that their fellow angels would be strong enough to resist the puerile charms of the mortals, or at least to the extent that any such seductions would be momentary and without incident. That had now fallen into question and it caused his thoughts to race wildly. Even in his beloved refuge, he could only quell the tempest so much.

For him personally, Ceuna was a poor substitute for the mortal world’s beauty. More than anything, he prized the forests. He crafted his own realm in Ceuna after the enchanting Kimbarin Forest in the western reaches of the primary continent. Vorlan felt it best reflected his own work with the forest’s stout trees surrounding him while he sat in a narrow clearing of mushrooms, strange purple and blue leaved bushes, and wild grass. These were illusions, however, and he could not fully imitate the wonderful creatures and the sounds of the forest. At times, it saddened him that Ceuna could never house the vibrancy of the world the mortals had named after him.

He recalled his most recent journey to the forest where he had sat in the same clearing surrounded by eager disciples. Together they enjoyed the mushrooms while Vorlan preached the wisdom that millennia of serenity in Ceuna had taught him, all under the sweet enchanting chirps of the forest’s beautiful birds. He considered such moments endlessly gratifying, much as he knew Tathyk enjoyed his farming or Cyrona found fathomless pleasure in swimming amongst the fish of the rivers.

Interrupting his thoughts, another presence manifested in his sanctuary, and what was normally a welcome one. Simel had arrived, but with a tense air. Vorlan sat silently as Simel rested in the grove in front of him. Simel mutely meditated for a while in front of Vorlan before the Earth Angel felt compelled to engage Simel.

“You are ill at ease. What troubles you?” Vorlan asked without opening his eyes. He did not need his mortal form’s vision to see Simel’s toiling spirit.

“All that I see in our creation. Ceuna’s serenity has always been a stranger to their realm, but there is a disquiet building that we cannot ignore,” Simel said dolefully.

Vorlan opened his eyes at Simel.

“I have noticed in the past that you only come to me when you have one of your ‘experiences’. You could simply enjoy my company. We need not always discuss weighty matters,” Vorlan smiled.

Simel stared back humorlessly. Vorlan lamented that many of Forynda’s closest followers never managed to cultivate any sense of levity or joviality, including the High Angel herself. In the mortal world he often preached that the worst curse of all was to be devoid of humor.

“Perhaps if this were any other moment. My words carry great dismay if you wish to hear them,” Simel replied, his eyes distant.

Vorlan motioned for Simel to speak as he turned his attention to the mushrooms he had conjured to count the spots on the mushrooms’ caps.

“I visited Methrangia, at one of their ceremonies where I knew Parlon would be present at the invitation of…”

“I would suppose that you did not visit the ceremony to enjoy yourself,” Vorlan interrupted. “Parlon does sing very beautifully, especially in those grand occasions.”

“And his song was entrancing as always,” Simel continued. “It was not what I heard, but rather what I saw that haunts me. When I saw that grand hall, I saw ruin, flame, decay, and death at every corner.”

Vorlan warily turned his eyes back to Simel. Predictions of horrific upheavals among the mortals were not novel to Simel’s visions and though Vorlan respected Simel, he found his constant worrying tiresome.

“That the mortals will lay waste to one another time and again is unfortunate, but it is a fact of our creation. I am sorry for you that your premonitions do not grant you anything more illuminating than that,” Vorlan smiled at Simel.

“This is not the same,” Simel insisted. “Mortals were not the only ones in these visions and these visions were not only my own. A mortal, a prince of that empire, witnessed the same horrors.”

In the past Vorlan had dismissed the weight of what Simel told him. The thought that a mortal would have had true premonitions defied comprehension, however.

“You are certain of this?” Vorlan queried. “The prince saw the very same things you saw?”

“Yes. If you wish for illumination, I can gift you the images I witnessed.” Simel offered an outstretched hand.

“If you would,” Vorlan nodded.

Simel’s hand grasped Vorlan’s and instantly the Earth Angel saw scattered visions of crumbling bodies, gusts of flame, crashing crystal, and a mutilated eyeless corpse donning resplendent regalia. None of those grisly conjurings distressed him until he caught sight of Parlon’s deranged state. Parlon’s wild hair and crazed eyes seared into his mind. His vision slowly approached closer to Parlon’s glowing amethyst eyes set in sickly purple skin. Vorlan jolted back from Simel.

“You saw this yourself? This is not some concoction you invented?” Vorlan asked, fighting a combination of fear and disbelief.

“What cause do I have for crafting such vile visions?”

“How could a mortal have seen this? Is his mind sound?”

“I cannot explain what happened, only that it did. The prince, a man named ‘Rohmhelt’, is not an ill man. What he saw was genuine, not the whim of a fevered mind,” Simel insisted. “It is possible that the auras, disturbed as they now are, provide us glimpses of things that we cannot otherwise know.”

“You mean to say that the auras, our own creation, have a mind of their own? Nethron has said such things before, but I find such a notion absurd,” Vorlan scoffed, flicking his hand dismissively. “We are their masters. We command and constrain them. The mortals do not wield their powers precisely because we will it not to be so. I tell you now what I have told Nethron in the past. We must not succumb to curious and tempting speculation.”

Simel paced in front of Vorlan while the Earth Angel ran through his litany.

“I would offer to you that it is possible for us to create that which we fully do not understand. Consider the mortals themselves. We knew some aspects of what they would be before we created them, but they have continually surprised and confounded our every expectation. The auras are still more peculiar. We should consider it hubris to claim that we are masters of them. Besides, it is not fully the case that we created the auras. They were there already in an untamed form and we never understood that.”

Vorlan saw again and again the images that Simel had shared with him. He wanted to believe that they were being forced upon him by Simel, but he knew that this was not true.

“Whatever their origins, this is a matter we must bring before Forynda. I need not tell you why I only say that with the greatest reluctance,” Vorlan grumbled as he glared Simel.

Of all of the angels’ sanctums in Ceuna, Forynda’s most closely approximated what Vorlan understood as the depiction the mortals had of the angelic realm. For mortal eyes, it was blindingly bright, white, and austere. Its walls on all sides were a white glass-like cloudy structure surrounding a simple platinum-hued throne bearing no markings.

The High Angel sat upon it motionlessly while Simel recounted his vision and the mortal prince Rohmhelt’s identical premonition. Vorlan attempted to gauge any reaction from Forynda. There was none. Her eyes were shut and her face placid. At last, when Simel had finished speaking, she languidly opened her translucent golden eyes.

“And you are sure of what you say, Simel?” she asked.

“I know what it is that I saw, even if I cannot entirely explain it,” Simel replied.

“That this would occur so shortly after Gorondos’s terrible deed cannot be an accident,” Forynda said. “I have told you before, Vorlan, should we continue to allow this unstable existence among the mortals, all will end in tears and ash.”

Vorlan sighed with disinterested fatigue. He had imagined a similar set of words the instant Simel told him of the premonition. It was not hard for him to imagine where the High Angel would proceed from there.

“With the greatest respect, Forynda, I believe that you misunderstood the meaning of these premonitions, both mine and the prince’s,” Simel insisted.

“Have I? Enlighten me,” Forynda said coldly. “I give little weight to the fevered imagination of a man who has been gifted arbitrary title by the fortune of his birth.”

“The man is not ill. I saw his mind,” Simel protested. “Of greater importance is that it is senseless to assign blame for these visions. They will come to pass, regardless of our actions now, or rather we are committed now to an inalterable path, even if imperceptibly.”

Forynda’s eyes flashed while she rose from her throne and glided toward Simel. Vorlan braced for an onslaught.

“I do not believe in such nonsense as the mortals would. They always speak of their fates, but nothing is fated in their world, nor is it in ours. Refrain from speaking these absurd wisps in my presence,” Forynda wrathfully boomed.

“Forgive me, but I have found that none of my premonitions have failed to manifest. Eventually, they all come true,” Simel said, standing firm even as Forynda stood directly before him. “How this will happen, I cannot say.”

Before Forynda could respond, Vorlan glided closer, drawing both her and Simel’s gazes.

“If you will pardon my own impertinence, you said that you believed that this was a further sign of the troubles from angels living among the mortals and in the same breath you do not believe the visions represent our future,” Vorlan said coyly. “Which do you mean to say?”

“They are a warning of what the future could be, not the future itself,” Forynda snarled at Vorlan. “We must act to prevent that cataclysm from ever coming to pass.”

Vorlan shook his head. Still, he was himself unsure of what this all meant.

“And what of the mortal’s vision? Why would it be the same? I believe that must lend greater veracity to the visions I witnessed,” Simel pleaded with Forynda.

Forynda merely lightly gazed at Simel and floated toward her throne again, standing just before it while closing her eyes.

“You believe so without any cause to think it. By what force would an accurate vision of our future appear to both you and the mortal princeling at the same time? If it is what you claim, then it must have manifest from some source,” Forynda announced disinterestedly. Her eyes fell most heavily on Simel.

“I do not know with certainty. Perhaps the auras…”

“We need not speculate,” Forynda interrupted. She emanated an almost undetectable ring that radiated in every direction. For a time, nothing happened. Forynda folded her arms into her robes’ sleeves and sighed as they waited. At last, with a whirring shimmering pillar of silvery light, Nethron materialized before them.

Nethron immediately appeared bored with the gathering before anyone had uttered a word.

“I had been at study on something rather interesting before that summons,” Nethron sighed. “Can this interruption be worth the trouble?”

Vorlan chuckled until Forynda shot a cutting gaze in his direction. She similarly bristled with annoyance at Nethron’s careless demeanor.

“Simel claims that a mortal prince witnessed the same premonition as he himself observed at the same precise moment. He believes that a disturbance in the auras caused this,” Forynda said.

Nethron’s eyes flashed red as his focus turned toward Simel.

“Was that this vision?” Nethron flicked his hand and a silvery disc appeared before him displaying grisly images of burning corpses, a maliciously mutilated body, and the crazed and twisted face of Parlon all in a spurt of brief visions.

“How did you…” Vorlan began to ask, bewildered.

“I saw it as well. Odd thing, that,” Nethron shrugged. “Maybe that does give Simel’s queer little idea that the auras are responsible some greater weight.”

Forynda avoided the shock that Vorlan and Simel displayed and continued to examine Nethron.

“Do you have any explanation for this, Nethron? How is such a thing possible?” she queried.

Nethron turned about and paced with his hands tucked behind his back for several moments. Vorlan and Simel glanced at one another out of weariness for Nethron’s typically peculiar affectations.

“Oh, I wish I could say anything more than this, but truly I do not know,” he shrugged again, his eyes dimming to a deep amber. “When I was in the mortal realm, I noticed an ache in the auras’ flow, as though they were buckling under some immense strain. What this is, I cannot say, but you will find it here as well.”

Forynda’s chamber darkened as Nethron swept his hand through the air and let loose a cascade of waves of various colors. Some of the waves shook and quivered, forming jagged patterns before dissipating. The Aura Keeper then swept his other hand in a circle, colliding the waves and crafting still more contorted patterns. Vorlan was mystified at the display. He had scarcely any notion as to what the significance of Nethron’s performance was.

“And what do you mean to tell us, Nethron?” Forynda asked.

His crystalline eyes flickered between gold and a dark indigo.

“There is unease in all of the auras, and it is not simply down in the mortal realm,” Nethron declared. “It is… possible that they may be communicating some manner of message across time, but I cannot say what it is. A mortal should not have seen it, but if Simel tells the truth, as I am sure he does, then it happened. If they saw it as well, then it must be from the same origin.”

Vorlan observed the High Angel’s countenance darken at Nethron’s speculation. He knew that she had hoped for a plainer answer. She never tolerated cryptic responses.

“You are the Keeper of the Auras, their guardian and master, and you cannot tell me how it is that this is happening?” she asked coldly.

Nethron stared blankly back at her and shrugged.

“Their Master? Oh, I wish I could claim such dominion. That would be splendid. I would say I am more their observer or shepherd than master.”

“You mean to say that you have studied the auras for millennia and what they do now baffles you?” Forynda growled.

“I would not word it in such a way, but yes,” Nethron nodded. “If I am not being presumptuous, your insinuation is that I have been negligent or perhaps given to sloth. Of the second attribute I will concede some fault, but I assure you I have been attentive.”

Again Vorlan tried to hold back a modest grin. He had never been close to Nethron, but he appreciated Nethron’s ability to irritate Forynda. Vorlan knew better than to feed the Aura Keeper with overly serious queries. Forynda, it seemed, had never come to a similar observation. Vorlan had seen countless instances of the High Angel’s contemptuous glares to know when she had been truly irked. This was such a time.

“Nethron, I want an answer on this swiftly. I do not believe that we have the luxury of dithering,” she growled. “Vorlan and Simel, I want both of you to go to this prince and speak with him. If a reason lies behind his visions, I want to know what it might have been.”

Nethron and Simel left immediately, but Vorlan sensed that Forynda intended him to stay behind and so he remained in the chamber silently while Forynda glided back toward her throne. The High Angel emanated a slight ringing sound and immediately a swirl of blue mist appeared behind here alongside a beam of white light. Cyrona and Elaous emerged.

“You watched and listened. What do you believe?” Forynda asked, facing away from all of her guests.

Cyrona appeared more than happy to voice her opinion. Elaous, by contrast, displayed a troubled countenance.

“It is more than plain with each passing moment that your fears have been greatly justified,” Cyrona said. “If even mortals can see that and any of us are so blind as to pretend that nothing is amiss, we have reached a dark place. That they may have greater wisdom than us commands our shame.”

Elaous frowned, his metallic face crunching as he did. Forynda appeared dismayed that the Guardian seemingly disapproved. She floated up to him and offered an outstretched hand.

“If something troubles you, Elaous, please speak,” Forynda said with a far softer tone than she had spoken earlier.

“Dearest Forynda, you know that I will always follow your lead. Always,” he said, looking at the High Angel with what Vorlan thought was stern affection. “But I must caution you we risk great damage. Acting on such paltry evidence will bring ruin. We do not even know where these visions came from. It could be a malicious act.”

“By whom?” Cyrona immediately snapped. Her watery body boiled in irritation.

“I do not know,” Elaous replied. “My assertion is that we know nothing of what this is. We dare not act on it.”

“By itself, maybe it would mean nothing,” Cyrona began, “but you have to look at all that we have seen and realize that we are on…”

“I will not act at this time,” Forynda declared, booming over Cyrona. “Portents of our looming doom cannot be ignored, but neither can our ignorance of them. To decisively act now would be to thrust blindly into the darkness.”

Cyrona fumed more noticeably. Vorlan expected a customary tempest to spew forth from her.

“But we are not fully ignorant. We in the vision Parlon engaged in all manner of malice and that surely means something. Are we to say nothing of that?” Cyrona protested.

“I will deal with that matter in due course. Both of you may leave,” Forynda said.

Cyrona and Elaous left in blurs of light, leaving Vorlan standing alone in Forynda’s chamber. Even with the other two departed, she still did not look at him. Uncomfortable silence followed and Vorlan wondered if he was to leave as well.

“Do you know why I chose not to act?” Forynda asked at last.

“I do wonder about that. I had thought you shared a mind with Cyrona on this matter,” Vorlan replied.

The High Angel turned about and glided toward Vorlan.

“It is because Elaous gave me pause, not because I believe that this is a malicious act meant to confuse us, but considering that did lead me to ponder another possibility, one that I consider under the greatest pains.”

“What was that?”

“That it might be my own mistake that ushers in that calamity. I do not know if I believe that, but even the possibility causes my hand to freeze in terror.”