Archaic Era, Year 784

Fereshteh POV

The first time I ever saw Hallow Elian, the famed Turtle-God, the Hallow (the title given to a lesser god) who governed the domains of Protection and Healing, he looked nothing like I had expected.

When I was young, my mother had raised me on stories of his feats and prowess. Over the years I’d created a very specific and enduring image of him in my head. A muscular man with bronzed skin, accented by silver and gold armor. At his side, a beautifully forged sword and shield. Perfectly curled hair and a dark beard would frame a softly handsome face, and a pristine red cape at his back would complete the look of a true hero.

The moment my eldest brother told me he would be visiting our fair capital of Paradei, I knew I needed to meet him. No, not just to meet him; I had to utterly wow him with my storytelling channeling prowess! Being the genius princess of the Empire of Vardaz, I could not pass such an opportunity by!

Every single legend of the Turtle-God’s that I knew, I practiced for hours and hours. Scant hours before the Turtle-God’s arrival, I asked the attendants to help dress me and do my make-up. Fortunately, my vile twin was not here to mess up the feast or performance with his awful pranks; tradition dictated that princes train with the military for years.

The preparations crawled on smoothly like a snail, and passed the appointed hour entirely, when the Hallow proved to be delayed. But, as inexorable as fate, our time of meeting did at last arrive in late evening! I smoothed imaginary wrinkles from my dress. (I absolutely was not drying the copious sweat upon my palms! I do not sweat!) After breathing a few moments, I strode out between the brightly dyed curtains and into the banquet hall.

The chattering nobles attending the feast fell silent as I made my way onto the stage, and for a brief moment I genuinely believed some great misfortune had waylaid our land’s beloved Turtle-God, and a foul impostor had infiltrated in his stead. Perhaps that was even why he had been so egregiously late! That man seated there at a place of honor, guzzling down all the food in sight and laughing boisterously with the nobles, could not have been Hallow Elian!

His skin, though tanned by many years in the sun, was still much lighter than mine and covered in ancient scars. His hair, too, was a mess, cascading in tangles over his broad shoulders. And his beard, rather his lack of one… the less said of that, the better.

Still, my eldest brother, seated at the head of the table, did not seem suspicious of this person... Well. I had made a promise, and so I would put on the singular greatest performance of my life, be this person god or impostor!

‘Channeling’ is what we call a number of methods of wielding divine magic. The courts of Vardaz consider me a genius in the most sublime forms of channeling: singing, dancing, painting, poetry. Despite this, I must admit that my godly audience has never been in the same room with me, watching so intently.

Typically, I have only performed for the women and children of the harem, their attendants, perhaps my brothers. But as these forms of magic were developed as an offering for the gods, in exchange for their magic and aid. With a god in attendance, it was only proper that he be entertained in such a fashion, by me, the most skillful and talented of them all! The promise of a god recognizing my genius made my heart pound in excitement (definitely not anxiety!), outweighing my doubts that he might be an impostor.

But even among the gods, the Turtle-God was quite unique. It was difficult to tell exactly what his preferences really were, among disciplines of channeling. But the classics are considered classic for a reason. Surely he would enjoy popular retellings of his own greatest feats.

The chime of a bell rang through the air, as the musicians to the side of the stage began the accompanying music. The little bells and jewels on my dress tingled pleasantly in harmony as I stomped my foot three times, then gracefully swept my arm across the audience.

“The Turtle-God’s armor was gilded, and his hands shone with healing light. Truly none wondered why he was the most respected and adored of all the gods. Where he tread, he brought healing and light. This is but one of many of his tales, the tale of how a boy became our most beloved god,” I proclaimed in song, and began the story of the Turtle-God’s ascension to godhood.

It began with a simple boy-- human, like anyone else-- as he was caught in a war. The high stone walls which had once protected his home were as useful as a wall of twigs against the Sun Fiend’s monstrous armies. Even as the children of the Sun Fiend reduced his city to rubble, the boy refused to flee. Impressed by his bravery and selflessness, the earth goddess, Crown Naruune, blessed him with godhood. He gained strength to protect his home, his friends, his city.

But such power and renown had its price. It brought to him the attention of the Sun Fiend’s most powerful child, Talon the Half-Drake. My voice took on a spookier intonation as I described the Half-Drake’s rivalry with the newly-born Turtle-God.

Talon may have been half-human, but he was also the most vicious of his monstrous siblings. He had committed brutal acts to prove himself to his monstrous mother, and unforgivable sins against the other gods to empower himself to the zenith of fiendish strength. So impressed was the Sun Fiend that she crafted for him a bow with the powers of flame and plague, and named him general of her army.

The feasters reacted as I described him. Some booed and jeered at the hated bogeyman, some grew sweatier and downed another glass of wine. The Hallow’s eyes widened, his face growing pale. What a genius storyteller am I, to make a God feel as though he stood before his nemesis again! The fervor of the stage overtook me again.

My dress’ orange fabric swirled, my jewelry glittered like flames in the torchlight. I commanded the entire hall as I sang, “And now, the Half-Drake wished to meet this boy, this King, this young god, who dared halt the monsters’ advance! A confrontation between the two was imminent, inevitable! And when gods fight, the whole of the world trembles!

“Upon his victory, the City crowned the Turtle-God their king! The feasting, the dancing! Such precious gifts brought below him, each nation sent dignitaries, low on bended knee!” I sang. Detailing the antics of the feast, I got a few laughs from the crowd, now deep in their cups and full from their food.

I adjusted my headscarf, and draped my shawl over my face. The epitome of mystery, I raised a finger to my lips. “But one more guest came than invited. Talon, the cunning half-monster, half-human, hid his grotesque features with a cloak, and demanded an audience with the young king, whereupon he challenged the god to a duel…”

I flitted across the stage, imitating their fight-- the swift and vicious strikes of the fiendish boy, and the deliberate dance of the Turtle-God. Impressed by the devious Half-Drake’s strength, the Turtle-God made Talon his own general on the spot, and the two appeared to become great friends.

But the Half-Drake was as vile and cunning as his mother. And he was patient. Ten years he spent, slowly gaining the Turtle-God’s trust, until one day, he invited the king out on a hunt. They tracked their quarry far and wide, on a hunt that took them far away from the Turtle-God’s city. Unbeknownst to all, the Half-Drake had slowly sneaked his mother’s monstrous army into the city over ten years. With the city’s beloved god-king gone, Talon believed them defenseless. As they burnt the city to ashes, Talon would poison his false-friend and slay him, and the Sun Fiend would crush humanity’s jewel.

He was arrogant.

The Turtle-God was not so easily felled, and neither was his city. The Turtle-God purged the poison from his system as he fought the Half-Drake.

My dance became manic, as I sang of how their battle raged for seven days and seven nights. At the end, Talon escaped, heavily injured but alive, and the Turtle-God staggered back to his victorious city. He rested for another seven days and seven nights while his city celebrated and feasted. At the end of the celebrations, he passed his kingship on to another.

“Though we were victorious now, the Half-Drake is not dead, and his trail grows ever colder,” he told his subjects, his friends and family. Though it broke his heart, he had to leave them, so he could protect other nations and cities from the Half-Drake and the Sun Fiend.

“For hundreds of years since that day, the Turtle God has hunted the Half-Drake, as tirelessly as the Sun Falcon hounds the Sun Fiend each day. Let us celebrate his presence, and tireless task, here, tonight,” I finished, breathless. I ended the tale frozen in a bow, as applause washed over my ears. My many layers of clothes were heavy with sweat, but there was a proud smile on my face. Finally, I raised my head and met the Turtle God’s eyes. The fervor of the stage drained from my mind, allowing me to evaluate his reactions more reliably.

Damn my impeccable talent for reading body language. That strained smile, that look of resignation… he hated it!

I deflated entirely.