The Fallen Ones

Prologue

Our story started in a damp tunnel.

It was dimly lit, the walls lined with faintly flickering torches that reflected daunting shadows across the grimy brick.

Hurried footsteps echoed in the silence as a man scampered down the corridor. He, alone, was not important to our story, but clutched tightly in his raised fist was a letter of great interest, one that would change the fate of the world we found ourselves in.

The man, an attending, muttered nervously in a harsh whisper. He was out of breath and his brow dripped with a thin layer of sweat as if he'd run a great distance to deliver his message. On his back, flapping impatiently and barely able to fit through the narrow passageway, rest a twin pair of massive wings.

They were a mixture of beige, blacks, and browns, accented only by a small patch of glimmering gold feathers on his right wing, and they beat so fiercely between the attending's shoulder blades, that every few feet, he was lifted off the ground, as if they too, could not contain their apprehension.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the man arrived at a vast cavern, adorned only by a single grand staircase. Brilliant gold and polished white marble shone like a beacon in the otherwise sulky darkness and the attending had to squint as he made his way swiftly up the stairs, taking two at a time.

At the top, he was greeted by double-set, solid gold doors, each etched with the face of a brilliant, snarling lion, equally as beautiful as they were deadly. The man hauled the doors open and emerged into a ballroom, where he was nearly blinded by the stunning shades of gold, red, and white. He squinted harder.

Columns lined the walls, and the ceiling was decorated with grand paintings that resembled the attending himself: humanoid creatures with large tawny wings swooping and flitting through the air. In the center of the painting, surrounded by the winged humans, stood the image of a woman, larger than life itself, and much more powerful.

The walls appeared to cave in towards her greatness, drawn by the sheer power she emanated and her compelling aura of regency. Her golden locks fell in magnificent curls down her arms and back, elegantly woven with strands of gold thread, and her honeyed bronze eyes glimmered keenly back at the attending.

Her gold chiton was draped regally across her tan shoulders before plunging into a deep V and tumbling down to her layered skirts like liquid gold. Her bodice was decorated in glittering jewels; necklaces and bracelets of the finest metals, rings of pure silver and gold, and atop her head, lie a magnificent golden, spiked halo, as if the sun itself was attempting to rise above the top of her head.

In her arms, overflowing with melted, caramelized gold, she held the Scales of Justice, as she caressed the feathers of a winged creature with the care of a mother, and on her back, surrounding her in a warm and bright aura of light, were massive, pure and unbroken, golden wings.

The attending paused only briefly to offer a bow to the pictured woman before scurrying to the end of the ballroom, where eight marble thrones rest in a semi-circle. Each chair was occupied by more winged creatures, all of similar color and gold accents as the aid, and they exuded nothing but strength and power from their perch.

The man threw himself to his knees at their feet, lowering into a deep bow as he held the letter high for all to see.

"My Lords!" The man spoke for the first time. His voice was raspy, begging for breath, as he gulped in huge mouthfuls of air. "I bring wonderful news! A miracle! A woman has just given birth!"

The man in the center of the semi-circle, higher and more regal than the others, raised his cloaked head. His eyes were hooded and dark as he gazed down at the mere attending in disdain.

With a scoff, he admonished, "This is nothing new, Aid. The High Council does not bother with insignificant childbirths! I do not see why this wasn't properly reported to Amasser, he is the one whom childbirths should be registered to. You are wasting our time with your indignant cries of grandeur and such hails as 'miracle'!"

The man, who went by the name of Baron, raised his hand, calling forth two guards armed with sharp metal spears. They apprehended the attending at once and begin to haul him out of the throne room. Aid scrambled, fighting to stay on his feet as his wings beat wildly in protest.

"But my Lord, you must understand!" The man called out desperately, "It is not just one child the woman gives birth to! It is two! Baby boys! Twins!"

One of the Baron's perfectly chiseled brows quirked ever so lightly and with a wave of his hand, Aid was released. The Baron leaned forward with interest, the rest of the council following suit.

"Twins" He drew in a velvety baritone that made goosebumps rise along Aid's spine. The Baron reached out and plucked the crumbled piece of paper delicately from the attending's fingers, beginning to read. As he did, his lips split into a wicked snarl and his eyes lit up in glee.

"My dearest high council," He read with delight:

It is with my deepest and most sincere of words that I write this letter to you. Just this morning, September the 15th at 12:03 a.m. I gave birth to my second baby boy. His brother was born at exactly 8:57 p.m. the previous evening, making them twins and a vivacious pair at that.

I've asked this letter to be brought to you directly with the sentiments of my absolute loyalty and deepest appreciation for the blessing I have been bestowed on this day. The Gods have blessed me, have blessed us in this community, and I know these boys will be of great utilization, however you see fit.

I know they will serve their purpose well.

Sincerely,

Song Jiwoo"

The Baron lowered the letter slowly, gazing upon Aid with a newfound intrigue.

"Twins," He uttered again, this time in wonder. "For the first time in 700 years."

The Baron let out a belated, cruel giggle, clapping his hands together ecstatically. "Well! I say a celebration is in order! The Gods have blessed us with a miracle! In just five years, gentlemen, we shall have the answers we've been looking for!"

The Baron's voice fell to a mere whisper as he tucked his hood back around his head, positively quivering with anticipation, and eyes alight with malice.

"The Avium have waited long enough. We must rise and evolve."