Page 127 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

Snow lifted a palm and looked up to the ceiling, the beams showering her in a divine glow. If one could paint the heavenly, it would look somewhat like what I was seeing now.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Moriko staring at Snow’s hands with a deepening frown. The dozens of little half-moon scars had made shadows of curiosity and worry mottle the Autumn Queen.

I slid my hand over my wife’s and laced my fingers with hers, to cover attention that she probably did not want. Snow blinked in surprise for a moment but didn’t object, only took close place by my side.

Magnus retrieved a stack of books bound in black leather and placed them on the round table in the middle of the room. “It might look like a lot, but most are vague tales and praises of the prime gods, few guardians and very little on the white flame guardian. You will need someone with knowledge of the old language of gods.” He patted the books and sighed. “Anything else that catches your eye, do let me know.”

The four of us took a seat round a library table when Magnus returned with a massive dust-covered edition of Numen History and Ithicea History, interwoven in a chronological conjecture with one another.

Moriko and Nia scrolled past the thick pages in search of any mention of Aurora while Snow and I searched the records of all guardians of Ithicea.

“This shouldn’t be difficult, right?” Snow asked, tracing a finger over words. “If she was Fader’s lover, her name would be painted all over these.”

“Except that it isn’t,” Magnus said. “It looks like they really wanted her gone from all mention in history.”

History. Wiped from all history.

“We could be searching the wrong volumes,” I said, standing to reach the shelves. When Adan and Seraphim flashed in sight, I stopped and pulled their sacred liber out along with any tales and folk whispers. “If anyone would forget to wipe out something it would be there,” I said, pouring the books full of lush fairy tales and lore on the table. “In history books it is said that a fire guardian ruined Seraphim, and I believe history has not lied or tried to conceal her identity. Aurora was guardian of the white flame and if I remember correctly,” I said, tapping my finger on the sacred liber of Seraphim, Phlegethos. “Fire has both a spiritual and elemental aspect that is why Adan was in charge of making guardians for Ithicea. He moulded all the guardians he created from different fires.”

Flipping through the book, past the praises of gods and sacred hymns, I stopped at the mention of Adan’s guardians. “Abiz, the silver flamed guardian of order, servant of Ithicea, child of Empyrea. Agni, the golden flamed guardian of riches, servant of Ithicea, child of Empyrea.” Flipping past the pages, and countless guardians, I stopped. “Aurora, the white flamed guardian of peace, she who guarded the balance of realms, servant of Ithicea, child of Empyrea.”

Magnus was at my side staring wide eyed at the book pages. The paragraph was short. Stating how she was shaped by him and descriptions of the immense magic she possessed. Her power was of the purest form of fire and perhaps the finest of its sort. The touch of her white fire could burn air itself and her words scorched all untruths.

The king traced a hand over the page. “We presumed Fader would have never taken a lover created by the gods. We presumed she was Ithicean born or a child of the lower gods.”

Snow lifted a Seraphim folk whispers book, pointing to a faded drawing of white-haired woman with two broken white wings while laying over another body—a male’s body. Aurora’s lover. “The white flamed guardian that fell for the human man from—” Her eyes went wide. “The human was Vrammetheni. It doesn’t make sense. You cannot tell me that the real reason why the western continent remained primitive was because Fader lost one of his lovers?”

“Fader is not petty,” Magnus said. “He is might itself, but he is kindness by nature. To find wrong and right it has always been his purpose. He wouldn’t have never abandoned a whole civilisation because of this. There were far greater reasons written in holy scriptures detailing why the gods did not take part to bless that side of Numen.”

“No, love,” I said, agreeing with Magnus. “Guardians did not descend from Numen till after the blessing, till after the unblessed were deemed of rotten hearts. If she fell for the man, it had to have been after.”

“What happened to the unblessed man?” Nia asked, flipping through the pages of folk whispers.

“Presumably died, if not by the hand of gods, by that of humans or by humanity itself,” Moriko said with a shrug. “The unblessed never live longer than their forties, anyhow. They are infected with disease and famine. Gods would probably have let him rot with the rest of his people. The most ironic end considering his lover would continue to live on forever.”

“Hells,” Snow murmured, frowning at a page of the thin colourful folk whispers book. “I thought there would be nothing on the name. Vas son of Zoltan. Born of Norodoh, the human man excelled the skill of any blessed soldier. Slayer of the Vilewrath, the beast of Moor, that haunted many of their travellers. The unblessed man became more than man. In the eyes of his people, he became what the unblessed believed him to be a…god slayer.” Her wide stare lifted to me. “Why is that name in the Ahmes Lore in a folk whisper? Why is the name of Aurora’s lover on the Ahmes Lore?”

I turned to Magnus. “Have you ever heard of this beast, the Vilewrath?” Solaryans were sailors, schooled, fed and beaten by the sea. They lived to tell tales and stories of their journeys.

He nodded. “As a child, years ago. It is an old sailor’s tale. Many still speak it when they travel west of the Moor, but it was never told who slayed it.”

“Perhaps concealed,” I said.

Moriko picked up the book and then frowned. “Does this aid us in any form?”

“This name is in the diary codes to the heavens, the same one Silas attempted to steal from Adriata. It has to make sense somehow,” I said, moving to peruse the children's tales, folk whispers and tellings shelves all over again.

Snow stood at my side. “Are we searching the Vilewrath?”

“Yes, my smart girl,” I said, fluffing her hair. “Anything you can find on it.”

The shelves were heavy with knowledge of all sorts, in most languages spoken in Numen—even those lost to the times.

“Will we not speak of it?” Snow asked quietly as she browsed through book after book.

“It?”

“Would you prefer I give it a name?”