“Yes, mistress… Indeed, Kadingira I shall henceforth be…”
Nod laughed, took Kadingira by the hand, and went away from Ophir.
***
Above the northern seas, Moriah looked all around him. The Executioner of the Stars beheld the destruction he had wrought and rejoiced at the annihilation of so much evil. But as he gazed upon the surface of Thebel, he noticed there were entire cities eluding the might of his wrath. Melchy-Zedek, and Nemrod, and Zoar as well. So he prepared to brandish his fiery sword for a second time, so as to end what he had begun.
His scarlet furor would not be released, however. A purple shadow came behind him, as the bruise which follows the bleeding wound. This purple shadow gently embraced his strong shoulders, and her fresh hands soothed his flaming wrath. A sylphid it was, with a soft violet glow. She was as colossal as Moriah, but her sweet countenance contrasted with his wrinkled frown:
“‘Tis enough, my beloved, ‘tis quite enough already…”
“What sayest thou? Dost thou not see there are still logizkal cities thriving over yonder? Should I allow them to live, that they may spread their wickedness tomorrow?”
“What purpose shall it serve, if thou grindest everything to naught?”
“Should I not? What would be best, that there was naught, or that there was evil? Should I not purify this world, even if it becometh desert? Should I not extirpate suffering from it, even if I extirpate life along with it?”
“That choice doth not belong to thee, beloved. The gift of life was not bestowed upon thee, but to Thebel. And thou seest not how the prince himself came to Melchy-Zedek’s rescue? Wilt thou rebel against him as well? What would then separate thee from those rebels whom thou hatest?”
Little by little, Moriah’s wrath subsided. And Nebo, the Merciful, also let her words subside, for they were not words anymore, only whispers. And her embrace strengthened as her voice weakened:
“Thy work is done. For ‘twas not thy work to root out all wickedness, but to answer the prayers of those mortals asking for thy protection and justice. Wouldst thou slay those whom thou hast saved? Come now, the stars convene a synod, and thy presence is required.”
Moriah heard his wife’s speech, his mighty fists clenching with frustration. But he knew she was right, as she always was. His flames abated and his essence faded, fuming back to the firmaments whence it had came. The silhouette of his body was left behind as a hollow shell, in the form of a mushroom-shaped pillar of smoke.
Nebo ascended as well, but not before bestowing her graces on that hapless land. The purple sylphid took her harp and sang a dirge for Thebel. And there was more power in her song than in Moriah’s fiery blade. From her mouth, Nebo exhaled a breeze, which blew throughout all the earth and put away all fires, quieted all waves, and lulled the igneous sylphs back to slumber. The thick fumes of destruction became an opaque wall separating the earth from the sky, but Nebo’s lament moved these baneful clouds to tears. And the clouds wept over the soil in the form of rain, washing away flame and ash alike. Then, as softly as she had come, Nebo faintly dissolved away. The Great Calamity had ended.
***
That most dismal day ended as well. It was deep night. Nod and her servant Kadingira camped at the mouth of a cave, in a desert in the midst of the Forbidden Lands. Kadingira lit a bonfire, whereupon she grilled a fat rat she hunted inside the cave. Nod, however, hungered for nothing more than the Scorinz’s glow. The sylphid could not stop staring at the jewel, as it shone with the bonfire’s flickering radiance.
But soon, the Scorinz acquired a different glow, of a more golden hue. In sooth, the gem could glimmer with all the colours of the world. Slowly, though, the gold prevailed over all other tones, in a way that was not natural for such a chameleonic stone. Only then did Nod understand she should look away from the jewel. It was not the Scorinz that shone gold. Rather, the golden shine came from another place and the Scorinz merely reflected it.
There was a gilded sylph standing before Nod. His countenance was austere, his poise most august. And his humour was clearly displeased. On his right hand there hung a scale made of pure gold, with plates mysteriously out of balance.
“What is thy purpose here, oh Horeb?” asked Nod, also displeased.
“Thou knowest, oh Gehena, the Accursed. Wert thou not satisfied with thy crimes in the Other Realm? Thou had to wreak chaos upon this world as well? Just look ‘round thee to what thou hast done!”
“Who needeth look ‘round, when one can look at this?” She kept her eyes fixed on the Scorinz.
“Yea, well remembered,” said Horeb, as he extended his left arm, while retaining the scale with his right. “I have come to fetch that which thou holdest. Return it back to me.”
Nod hid the jewel behind her back, as if it were not visible through the sylphid’s translucency:
“I could only return it to thee, if it belongeth to thee. But it belongeth to none other than me.”
“It belongeth not to thee and thou knowest. It is Aigonz’s and was given to the crizia.”
These words enraged Nod at the core of her being. She fell upon Horeb, the Judge of the Stars, and would have pierced him with her sharp claws if he did not defend himself with one of the plates of his scale, using it as a shield. What followed was a mythical battle between the two sylphs, so fierce that even today it is possible to see the scars of their sylphic blows engraved in the rocks of those lands. Kadingira sought refuge inside the cave, so she would not be struck by the lightnings roaring in all directions, as happens when two storms collide.
In the midst of this fight, Horeb seized the Scorinz. But Nod did not let go. The more Horeb gripped the jewel, the more Nod clung to it, nailing her hook-like nails inside the stone. For hours on end, each sylph tried to pull the Scorinz to their side. None desisted from their claim, not even when Nod started to gnaw at Horeb’s hand.
But all of this was too much for the stone to bear. So much did they pull and so much did Nod dig her claws inside the Scorinz, the jewel shattered into many shards. Nod’s most prized possession had been turned to pieces. One of them was still in the hands of her foe. The pale sylphid was furious, as furious as she had ever been! She meant to snatch the fragment Horeb still held, even if it meant killing the sylph. Verily, she would slay Horeb even if he had no shard with him, as punishment for his crime against the Scorinz!
But then, a deep fear vibrated inside her mind and stilled her hand, for this fear was greater than her wrath. She feared that, during the fight, Horeb might seize the rest of the Scorinz, even the shards still in her possession. She could not bear the thought of losing her precious stone once more! She would rather keep it incomplete, than keep it not! So, the pale sylphid let out a strident screech and burrowed through the ground into the depths.
As for Horeb, he judged that it would be preferable to keep what he had rather than to pursue such a treacherous creature at the risk of losing more. The Judge of the Stars glanced at his scale and saw that the plates were slightly more level. So he took his half of the Scorinz and ascended back to the firmament, till his golden light vanished behind the clouds of destruction.
Only Kadingira was left, lost in those wastelands. Understanding that the two powers had ceased to battle outside of her cave, she left her hideout, peering cautiously on all sides as a mouse leaving its burrow. Then she wandered through the desert for a long time, aimlessly searching for something, though she herself did not quite know what it was…
Epilogue
That very same night, when Kadingira was wandering through the Forbidden Lands, the stars convened their synod. Only seven of the Higher Sylphs remained… all others had either perished or vanished. For this very reason, the lesser sylphs were also allowed to speak in the assembly. The celestial dome was like a reverse amphitheater where all the stars of the heavens were gathered. And no being on earth was as majestic as they, with their silver diadems upon their heads, and their togas and tunics shining with each star�
��s distinctive hue.
For the first time, even beings made of flesh were allowed to attend, for they were guests of the stars. The giants who had once slumbered in Mathusal, and then awakened. Yea, they were the great heroes of yore, from Bizimonz to Faris-Romil. The igneous sylphs had not burned them, for they were enraptured to the heavens before the fiery tide reached them. These heroes live in the firmament to this day, and mortals can see them amidst the constellations. The Enoch Bar-Iared, who had been snatched up when the Hill crumbled, were there also.
There was a sense of dread amongst this most bizarre synod, for all hearts were deeply disturbed by all that had happened. But none gave herself more to sadness than Thebel, wailing as she did in the lowermost corner of the assembly:
“Oh woe is me, for so ‘twas prophesied: The gift of life bestowed upon me would be turned into a curse! Look upon these poor lands! Scorched are they, bereft of all lushness! Behold, the sea the isthmus did bury, and the north standeth divided from the south! As the Sym-Bolon mountain, once my crown jewel, standeth now cloven in twain. Oh, let not one amongst you call me Thebel, for I am blessed no longer! Henceforth, Negev shall be my name, which means ‘deserted.’”
And the rest of stardom sought to console her inconsolable mourning. But all were silent when Horeb, Judge of the Stars, came forth to open the synod:
“Dearest brethren, be most welcome. Ispariz tecum frens,” he greeted them. “‘Tis most expedient to bring this most hallowed council to order, for the mortals can no longer do so. The Republic is no more, and only Melchy-Zedek remaineth. Never again will there be a Council of the Peoples, for the peoples are divided, and only a common sky uniteth them. For that reason, where a Council of the Peoples is not, a Council of the Stars shall be.”
“Thou speakest well!” Moriah the Red stood up. “How I wish thou wouldst have spoken sooner! Perhaps then, the world would be in a much better state!”
“We intervened when the time was proper, as thou hast,” Carmel, the Sun, proclaimed, with his voice tainted by irritation. “Did Mizar and his two willing friends not deliver the Bar-Iared from slavery? Did Horeb not save them from the crumbling Hill? Did we not answer the pontiff’s questions through Mamreh’s mouth? Didst thou not end this war when all evil was consummated?”
“When all evil was consummated, yea!” Moriah answered him. “Wouldst thou call it a proper time, when so many in the lowlands accused us of silence in the meantime?”
“‘Twas better than what thou suggested,” Carmel replied. “Had we used brute force to wipe them out, when all their cities were standing and many innocents dwelling amongst them, we would be the ones guilty of bloodshed. Mortals would put the stars on trial, because mortals would have been slain by us and not their own kind. But we left them unto their own fancies, and warned them till no more could be done. As it standeth, most who perished by thine hand were guilty, and they have none but themselves to blame.”
“Perhaps subtler means would have sufficed,” Nebo said, as she sought a delicate balance: to support her husband’s position, while eschewing the calamities she so abhorred. “Gehena went down from the celestial abode and appeared before the mortals. There, she seduced them, and made them stray from the righteous path. Surely we could have descended from the heavens as well, and spoken to them, so as to right the paths Gehena twisted?”
“This was in our brother Peniel’s thoughts as well,” Carmel remembered. “The Green Star could not sit idly in his heavenly throne whilst mortal lands spiraled into disarray. From on high did he come down to shepherd the wayward logizkal, but who knoweth where he is? It seemeth not like he succeeded…”
“They would not have listened,” Thebel, now Negev, said. “Remind yourselves, I am the one who hath life upon her back. I am the one who drank all this unnaturally spilt blood. I heard their voices, I attended to their heartbeats, closer than ye could ever be. Gehena so poisoned their minds that all our warnings would have been received as proof of her accusations. Befouled by fear their souls were. As they feared the stars, they feared the deceit of the stars. Our voices would not meet their ears.”
“Brethren, sistren,” Horeb cried above all their voices. “These words are most unprofitable, for they change naught. No longer should we dwell on what should have been, but rather on what is to come.”
“What doth thou propose?” they all asked.
“If I may…” Bethel, the Blue, rose up from her seat. “Since that night when Gehena most foully murdered our beloved Salem, and let that devilish fiend into this world, the stars remain without a queen. ‘Tis time, I reckon, we chose another to be our monarch.”
“We discussed this when Salem died,” Carmel, the most noble of the stars, replied. “Not one amongst us felt himself worthy to walk on Salem’s sandals. Not one amongst us hath claimed her crown. And though the firmaments have been without a queen for so long, never hath discord reigned over us. We decided Aigonz alone would be our king. Why would we change this most righteous decision of ours, when we have witnessed the bitter fruits of mortals making themselves kings?”
“Indeed, my dearest Carmel,” Bethel answered unto him. “That decision, as thy words, was guided by most pious intentions. And we should indeed have no king but Aigonz, if it were not for one detail: that Aigonz himself so wisheth that we find a new monarch.”
They all listened, and were most flustered, but none dared gainsay Bethel, for she was the Oracle of Aigonz. They then started murmuring amongst themselves as to who this new celestial king would be, even if none came forth to claim the crown. Bethel smiled, and said:
“Since none came forth, then maybe we should crown the one Aigonz himself chose as Queen of the Stars.”
They all looked, and suddenly saw a mysterious figure. It appeared in their midst, as if all of them were orbiting around her without even knowing it. It had the shape of a woman draped in a long tunic coming down to her feet and even beyond. Her skin was tanned, as if she had been close to a very bright light. Her hair was long, of the colour of gold or wheat. Her eyes were as blue as the skies she was bound to rule. From inside her came a very bright and strange glow. But even if all starkind, and the blessed giants on high, were aghast at her beauty, not one amongst them seemed to know who she was, apart from Bethel and Horeb.
“Who is she?” they whispered to each other. “Is she a new star?”
“Greetings,” the unknown queen replied, with a gentle smile. “My name is Ithaca.”
Appendices
Pantheon
Aigonz: In hyperborean language, this is a pun between "Creator" and "Poet". After the Great Calamity, Aigonz became known among mortals as Eioliz. In the age before all ages, Aigonz sang the world into existence and thus defeated the wicked monster Nihil. Little more is known about him, since the sylphs do not know much about Aigonz save what they saw in the age before all ages, and they do not speak about those days. There is a rumor that, when Aigonz finished Dumah, he cut a lock of his hair and offered it to the newly formed cosmos.
Ararat: The Silver Star, one of the twelve Higher Sylphs. Also known as the Moon. She is the least shining star in the firmament, but her face glows when she looks towards Carmel, for she secretly loves the sun. Yet, Carmel chose to marry Thebel, Ararat’s closest friend. Even so, Ararat will never betray Thebel, for she is content in reflecting the light of her beloved, so that it will shine upon his wife. The moon also enjoys offering repose to tired and sorrowful souls, as she is. She is the patron star of sleep and peaceful dreams.
Bethel: The Blue Star, one of the twelve Higher Sylphs. She is called "The Oracle of Aigonz", for she has been endowed with Aigonz’s own foresight. When Bethel speaks in the name of Aigonz, everyone listens to her, even the other Higher Sylphs, for she speaks with authority.
Carmel: The Obfuscating Star, one of the twelve Higher Sylphs. Also known as the Sun. He is the most shining star in the firmament. Husband of Thebel and father of Mamreh, Meribah, and Mizar. He enjoys order and abhors ch
aos. For this reason he has taken upon himself the task of dividing night from day. He is also the patron star of crops.
Ebal: The sages speak of ancient scriptures, lost during the Great Calamity, which speak of the creation of Garizim and Ebal. These twins were the second of Aigonz’s work, even before Dumah came into being. They are considered Ethereal Sylphs, even if they were born of a different brood, having emerged directly from Aigonz’s mind. Ebal now sits at Horeb’s left shoulder. With Garizim, he is an advisor to the Judge of the Stars. Ebal is also a very sensitive sylph: when he perceives some injustice, he cries and yells and bellows, and will not be quiet until evil has been quelled. He is also very cautious: he fears for the future and warns mortals when they stray from the sure path.
Garizim: The sages speak of ancient scriptures, lost during the Great Calamity, which speak of the creation of Garizim and Ebal. These twins were the second of Aigonz’s work, even before Dumah came into being. They are considered Ethereal Sylphs, even if they were born of a different brood, having emerged directly from Aigonz’s mind. Garizim now sits at Horeb’s right shoulder. With Ebal, he is an advisor to the Judge of the Stars. Garizim is a very joyous sylph. He constantly looks forward to the future with hope, singing hymns of praise for everything good he sees before him. However, if he sees evil, he will just be silent and let Ebal do the talking.
Gehena: The Pale Star, one of the twelve Higher Sylphs. Unlike her eleven siblings, not much is known about this star, neither are there prayers directed towards her, or temples consecrated to her. A great crime must weigh upon her head, for how could such a powerful sylphid be condemned to such a harsh oblivion?
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