We the Korek proud and tall

Strode across war front far.

Death befall our every step,

Made of our own Chaos.

-Korek Song of the Covenant

Celeste floated in the haze of somewhere that was nowhere. A wind that was not a wind rippled across the water that was not water. The water made of light, upon which she floated within, and above, shook with an energy. There was the voice, ever there, ever whispering. Like a gentle song, or the rustling of a tree’s leaves. The laughter of a newborn baby, or the soothing humming of a grandmother, it called to her.

“Celeste…” But it was muffled. Quieted by something neither here nor there. She tried to search for it, but something pulled on her.

Strings. They wrapped around her heart, pulling her in every direction. Each was different, twisted, changing. Something had been wrong, she realized. Her friends. Weren’t her friends in danger? She pulled at those strings, felt one, strong and wide. It felt… anxious. She grabbed another, luminous and proud. It felt nervous, unsure, concerned. A complex web of emotions pulsing down the string and into her heart. She kept grasping, kept feeling. Needed to be sure.

Her fingers wrapped another. Calm, quiet, resting. She looked for the fourth, sought out the final string that connected to her.

Then she felt another string, one she had not expected. A fifth string, barely flickering in existence. It was frayed, two slender barely visible lines of light desperately trying to cling to one another, and failing. What was this? The thought echoed through the place between. Who was this? Touching it felt… odd. Wrong. Celeste had no body, and yet she felt ill at the touch of it. Celeste followed, floating along the mist and light and water that made up this endless space.

Celeste felt grass beneath her feet. She blinked, confused at first. This had never happened before. The place between had always been a formless place, yet looking down she saw her own feet. She saw grass as green as any she had ever seen. An endless plain spread out before her, rolling wide stretches of grass.

Something was behind her. She could feel it, pulling at her. Beckoning her to turn around. If she had skin here, it would have crawled. If she had lungs, they would have taken short, shallow breaths. She felt… terror. Abject terror at the thought of turning. She knew, somehow, she knew what was behind her. It was a deep pain, like claws clenching into her arm, trying to force her to turn. Celeste felt absolute horror at the feeling. Turn, it urged, turn.

She couldn’t resist for long. Her essence that existed here moving against her wishes. Celeste turned and before her stood a tree. No, not a tree, the tree. The First Tree. Sprawling and towering. No, to call it towering was like calling a mountain tall. It was unfathomably giant, stretching so high that clouds danced in its upper branches. So wide and thick that she could see buildings, coliseums, towers and temples resting upon its boughs. Thousands of beautiful buildings nestled within its embrace. Tens of thousands. Even then, most of the branches were free of the structures, filled instead with millions of brilliant, gently glowing teal leaves.

“No…” Celeste gasped. She knew what this was, she could feel it. This was that day. The day the Sherya lost everything. The day…

The tree exploded into an inferno. In heartbeats it was a terrible bonfire of death. The screams of thousands echoed across the plains and were silenced as the fire blazed. It burned with a heat that seethed with anger. So much death. It was agony to behold. Celeste collapsed to her knees, ash and cinders falling around her like snow.

She could feel every person, every soul, as they burned. The torment of it all was like nothing she had ever felt before. More torturous than even the cruelest beating on the streets. As though their suffering was being pushed through her. The deepest sorrow filled her heart. Heavy sobs wracked her as burning boughs buckled beneath the blaze. She could feel them, feel all of them. So much death, so much suffering, so much pain.

Giant stone structures collapsed thousands of feet to the earth, crashing into plumes of dust and ash. People desperately threw themselves from the tree, rather than suffer the pain of fiery demise. Celeste could only weep at their agony. There was nothing she could do. She felt every single one of them, every scream, every cry. This was that day. The day of the abandonment. The day the Gods left. A thousand thousand voices filled her head. Screaming, crying, raging. She closed her eyes and screamed. Trying to hear herself over it all.

***

Celeste woke up drenched in sweat, her cheeks wet with tears. Her chest heaved in panic. What had that been? She had never… Not in the place between had she… She felt cold at the image. So much suffering… so much death. So much…

Arabella. Celeste blinked away the bleariness. Arabella had been stabbed, she remembered that. Attempting to rise, Celeste looked around desperately. She was too weak, her head only slightly rolling. Where were her friends? What had happened?

Despite her efforts to rise, Celeste found her muscles were traitorously still. She rolled her head instead. A soft fur rubbed her face. She was in a bed. It was not the plush that she was used to at the temple, or even at Gardinal’s home. Small pieces of straw poked out, but otherwise the cloth used to wrap it was soft. Looking around, she felt a small relief. Gardinal was at her side. His beard was ragged and singed, with burn marks covering much of his body. Reading a book, he fingered a page back and forth anxiously, seemingly unaware or uncaring of his own injuries. She wished to reach out and heal him, but her whole body ached. Wherever they were, it was dimly lit. Looking past him, she could see Kriss pacing nervously. His clothes nearly as disheveled as his greasy hair, a bit of stubble on his jaw. How long had she been asleep?

“Wake up...” Valleresa cried from her other side. “Please Radiance... please.” Celeste could feel her sister clenching the blankets tightly behind her.

“She just needs more sleep. She'll be alright.” A woman's voice spoke. Thelyra?

Celeste tried to lift her head again. Still, no movement. It hurt to try. She felt so tired. So very...

She slipped back into sleep.