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The garden was full of secrets. This was one of them. I learned over time I had my Granmè to thank for it. I began climbing stairs of cloud, my body disappearing into the mist.
“What the—”
“Shh,” I chided. “Don’t talk. Just watch.”
I never let her hand go as the Mist came alive. Gone was the world of clouds. Instead, we were entrenched in ancient times, as if we were physically there.
We watched two Transcendents Bond. Soon after, she gave birth to a small yënn. An elèl. The girl was tiny. She began singing when her eyes fluttered open. Her brown skin glowed and membranous wings flapped under the iridescent lights. Her Mamè and Payè lifted her before a friere of the Ministraithe. The priest blessed her, put golden oil on her tiny forehead, and deemed her fated to be the first Judge.
As the friere continued praying, the newborn elèl began transfiguring. While her Paran had seven wing pairs slathered in starlight between each feathered fold, hers shrunk. She only grew out six pairs. Thin and sheer. Delicate and membranous. Her hair was long, her nails were short with perfectly rounded edges, and she wouldn’t stop singing.
The Mist shifted.
A nation of Domenents, their features of long, thick hair, membranous wings, and singing voices, surfaced. They were born in a cosm called Dèrneveil. Every yënn with the semblance of the first Judge was given to Dèrnetheth. The Temple of the Judges became their home. The Judges became their family.
Tears wet my cheeks. I watched my peers fly. Train. While our sect of the Domenent rank were judges, we maintained a measure of Enhancement ethèr. Some were strong in knowledge. Others were like me. Our ethèr enhanced our strength. We became physically powerful, superior to the rest of our rank.
Only angels of Infinite rank—Transcendent, Syëlle, Saerel, Iris, and Defandre—could defeat us. Angels of Immortal and Ephemeral rank never stood a chance.
The Mist displayed how we judges were commissioned. Some went to different cosms. Others to different realms. As judges of Dèrnetheth, we made oaths.
Nazèri vows.
If we kept our nazèri vow, we’d never go without our ethèr, and would upkeep the reverence given to our order. If we broke our vows, we’d suffer devastating consequences. I frowned, unable to ignore my own punishment. I blamed the Sky Watchers, but deep down I knew the truth. One I still wasn’t ready to face.
I fought more tears as I watched the tale of the Judges. When the Mist cleared, I walked out with the faeretheth, her hand still in mine. Her eyes were brimming. Her body sang with wells of emotion. She had questions. More than anything, she was left in awe.
When she looked at me, her expression changed. Softened. As if she saw something in me she’d never be able to forget. We stood there in the starry garden, Domenent and fae, just a breath apart, lost in the folds of the clouds. My six hearts twisted with profound longing.
“You asked for a story, Temptress.” My hearts pounded. The silver of her sharp eyes enthralled me. I brushed a strand of her curls behind the curved point of her ear. “I will also give you my name.”
She gasped, her eyes widening. I forged ahead, unafraid of what she could do with the knowledge. I was proud of my name. My heritage. My rank. If I were to be undone by this prepossessing, devious fae, I would go into the Ellelights with my pride intact.
“I am Zhèmrazraèl Briyen the Strong, born of Marnaoyé the Brave, Domenent Judge.” A beat. “A nazèri.”
The clouds swirled around us. A magical hush fell over the garden. Every tree, every flower, every creature grew quiet, listening in. I’d never given a fae my true name. I could only wonder what this meant for me. For us all.
“I was birthed from Lythere but am bound by oath to Zurethe.”
Ethèr coursed through my veins, pumping my blood with a delicious chill. I no longer sensed the cool touch of the crisp air as power thrummed beneath my skin, freezing me over with cold energy. Glowing light silhouetted my frame as my fôrs came to life at the mention of my name. I lifted the fae’s chin with a finger, bringing her ever closer to me.
“You, my pretty little fae, can call me Zhèmson.”
The weight of my name hung in the air. Ethèr surged through me, crackling around my body.
“Gods,” she whispered, watching the power silhouette my frame. She looked up at me in wonder. Then her mouth started moving.
“I am, Daliah.” She looked at me sheepishly. “Daliah Nireth… a daughter of Elèor.”
She looked away then, a painful mask clouding her expression.
Elèor. She was a faeretheth of the Sèlie Court.
I had questions and wanted answers. But one thing I knew, patience with time bore much fruit. I wouldn’t pry now. Not with her a step away from crumbling into tears. I could see this weighed on her heavily, so I kept my mouth shut. Pulling her to me, I lifted her chin.
“Daliah.”
Her name fell off my tongue like honey. She pressed closer, her chest brushing against mine. I nearly lost my restraint and claimed her. I brought my lips to her soft cheek, letting my lips linger against her skin.
