The Immortal Outcasts and The World of a Million Lights

Prologue: The Festival of Rebirth

Part 1
"Everyone, deep in their hearts, is waiting for the end of the world to come."
-Haruki Murakami

Prologue: The Festival of Rebirth
   
    She recalled of how her grandfather had once told her of a common phrase he had heard while in exile in the other world, that "there's a light at the end of the tunnel", and though he never had explained its meaning to her, Cordelia Hart felt deeply and resolutely that this would be the night she discovered it. She was still weaker than she had ever felt in her life, but the birthing maids tended gently to her body, which only five hours prior had seemingly been torn in two by the child for which she had waited nine months. Nine months of being imprisoned in her own home, under the orders of bed rest, though she had concluded that "rest" and "arrest" were awfully similar words, as if her whole life had not been spent moving, training, pushing her body to perform extraordinary feats on the battlefields, as was the legacy of her mother, and her father before.

    And now her child, a beautiful baby girl with eyes like silver coins, had arrived to this world at last. Cordelia pushed away the fluttering hands of the maids and reached to the crib beside her, slipping her fingers beneath the soft fox fur blanket until she found her baby's chest, warm and smooth, feeling a heartbeat beneath her palm. The crib, intricately carved from an oak tree and painted with dainty, purple irises, was a gift from Malikiah and Karan, her dear friends since childhood, who had welcomed their own baby, a boy, into the world only a month previously. Cordelia knew that the arrival of her daughter meant many things, such as her finally being able to return to her full strength as a warrior, which had been her purpose, her destiny for so long. She knew that the birth of this baby girl meant that the world in which she lived, the world in which she had fought, learned, and loved would never be the same again, in fact, may even be destroyed by what was to come, but she also knew, no, felt, with every ounce of muscle and spirit that resided within her that her new purpose, her new destiny, was to protect her child, and only that.

    Someone knocked on the door, and a timid smile fell upon Cordelia's lips as her husband, Arkan, met her eyes and entered the room. Even after all the time they had spent together, her lover could still make her blush. Arkan's own smile was radiant and his words kind as he requested the birthing maids to let them be alone for a moment. He sat beside her on the bed and reached his hands gently into the crib to pull out the sleeping form of his child. Cordelia pulled back the corner of the blanket wrapped snugly around the baby girl to reveal her face, her eyes closed and light breaths escaping her tiny, full lips. Cordelia sighed into her husband and felt him lean back against her, both of them basking in the beauty that was their precious daughter, enjoying the quiet peace before they shared any words, knowing what had to be spoken.

  Outside the room, the celebratory Festival of Delphis was in full swing. Cordelia could hear the beating of drums outside the window, the strumming of harps and ehrus, the whistling of flutes and pipas, the people laughing and singing. This was the fourth festival of rebirth she had attended in the past four months, so she knew how the city outside her window was adorned in colorful flags and tapestries and glowing lanterns hung from every building to illuminate the festivities below. She could imagine how merchants and vendors lined the streets with their carts, selling jewelry, pastries, books, and spirit guides. The partygoers, with joy radiant on their faces, surely crowded the city, all of them dressed up in feathers and gold and leather and silk. Samishans probably performed shows on platforms built of wooden stilts high above the people's heads. They breathed fire and juggled swords and grew extra arms that danced to the sway of the music. Cordelia could see the light of the bonfire seeping through the sliver of her curtains, even though the shrine had been built two homes over, and she could envision how it roared high above the dancers jumping and twisting to the melodic rhythms and how it reached its fiery hands far into the night sky, willing to pull down the stars just for the sake of light.