Age of Atheos: Excerpt

The old gods have deceased, leaving chaos in their wake. Seven planets competing for pagalite, a dwindling essential mineral that is needed to control the elements, host a competition to be crowned God of the godless world. The new God will be given the power to make pagalite from the 4 elements and as a result save their planet. 

Kaya, a girl from the planet Kairos, enters the competition with three others from her planet. Chosen by the Elders, Kaya cannot fight but she possesses a special gift given to her by the moon: the power to create minerals from water. She can hence heal people’s pain through using the water inside them and talk to others inside their minds. 

If I could save the moon, I would.  There used to be a time when I would speak to the moon. Lying on the sand of the deserted beach, I would tell the moon all of my secret desires, fears. Secrets that I tell no one else but I spill them all to the moon. The moon was quiet and I found solace in her reticence.

The moon healed me. The burns on my back from the scorching glare of the sun from working in the fields all day. The gentle touch of moonshine soothed my pain. Forgiving, kind, the mother I wished I had. 

Tonight, she is gone. The tide is silent, it used to pull and push the shore, changing with the temper of the moon. 

No longer. 

I was born on the full moon of the 7th year since the separation of Atheos. An auspicious year, when the crops were still abundant and water flowed aplenty. I was named Kaya for the fruit my family farmed. A fruit that gave people calm and took away their pain when they ate. Like the moon, kaya healed. 

It is healing we need more than anything this year. The ocean is dying, the water tells me. It seldom rains, and the crops are thirsting for precious water. The sun burns us more than fire, hotter than the volcanic stone our island was built on. 

There is no moon to save us. 

Instead, it is I who must save the moon.

I must get pagalite. A mineral that controls the elements, it will return the moon to us. It will give us more water and restore the balance of my planet. 

That is why I am leaving Kairos soon for Leia. The moon in the center of Atheos, it will be the stage where I compete with others from the other planets. To be remade a god, with the power to make pagalite. And with this power, I will remake my world.

I need this more than anything. 

I’ve been chosen along with three others from Kairos to pilot our Angels. Ships for me to pilot and fight among the remains of the stars. They thrive off of an immortal supply of pagalite, the last remains of the old age. An age when gods still walked the earth. 

I will return a god. That is my destiny, the ocean tells me.

I finish husking the oysters Mother is going to cook for dinner. I had dived for them earlier today. I am the best diver in my village. My brother Aeron used to tease me, calling me a dolphin who wishes to be a mermaid. I swim better than I pilot, as the water loves me more than the stars do.

I wish I didn’t have to pilot the Angel. I am afraid of space and sky, unreachable to me. But I have no choice, I must save us. The stars have spoken and this is my fate to endure.

I look at the empty sky again before heading into my family’s hut. 

I wipe my feet clean from the sand on the soft mat by the door. I head into the kitchen, brushing aside the strings of seashells that dangle from the ceiling. Mother is shelling peas, fresh from her garden. I put my basket on the counter and lean against it.

Mother, the ocean has spoken, I say in the old tongue.

Without looking at me, she replies,

Let the light part the ocean for its gifts. 

The old tongue has been passed down in my family for generations. Not many in our village speak it now, but my family’s blood runs pure. The old tongue was brought to our village by the ancient sea gods and naiads who once dwelled in Kairos. It is the language of the ocean, and with it, we speak to the water. 

The water in me is distorted. I am afraid. Of leaving Kairos, where I have never left. Of fighting, for I do not fight. More water than fire, I do not wish to harm others. I wish to speak to Mother about what I feel, but she does not take kindly to my expressions. She is one of the earth, practical and rooted in her ways. She will not understand.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” she says. She puts a pot on the stove and starts to boil the water.

I nod and brush aside the seashells again, my fingers lingering on the smooth ridges. 

Aeron and I used to collect seashells on the beach, late at night, waves crashing against the shore. It was one of my favorite things to do with him, before he became afflicted with illness. The diver’s curse, my villagers whispered, that swallowed my brother whole and ate him alive. I escaped the ocean’s wrath, but he did not. Bubbles forming in his lungs, making holes, slowly, surely. Coughing up blood, he endured for months until it finally took him.

I still remember the blood stains on his sheets, his hands clenched over his mouth. I tried to heal him but there was no cure, no water to save the madness that overtook my brother.

I am not vengeful. I do not hate the ocean for taking my brother. But I am wary, that one day, the ocean will turn its back on me, as well, and take me for its own. 

I close the door behind me, slipping into the soft sheets of my bed, weary of the day’s toil. 

I am not calm. I close my eyes, naming what I feel. Trepidation. Fear.

Loneliness. 

The ocean has taught me how to soothe myself. We use the power of the moon to call on water. Whispering to myself, I call on the hidden one,

I am here, teacher.

The water in me stirs. 

Child, you are troubled.

I hold myself still, letting the old one wash over me.

Teacher, I am uncertain. Where do I stand in the midst?

Child, do not be afraid. The answer will come to you from afar. Wait.

Fire scares me. How do I not fear?

Do not be afraid. Stay strong, young one. 

I let out my breath, and the old one goes silent.

I do not know, how to stay strong, in the midst of fear. Next to Mother, I am weak, given to emotions, sometimes drowning, sometimes merely staying afloat. 

I lack roots.

But Father used to say, there was strength in me. For I understand, when others did not. 

Kayaling, my beautiful one, why are you upset?

The other village kids, they laugh at me, whenever I cry, and I am always crying.

He laughs and swings me on top of his shoulders.

It is not their laughter that upsets me, but they say, I am not strong. I am weak. 

Kayaling, my little sapling, you are not a weakling. You understand others and that is strength in itself, youngling. 

Do I understand others, Father?

Yes, you do. 

I don’t understand you. 

I smile to myself, treasuring this memory of Father, and I drift to sleep. 

-

There will come a time when all is lost,

When you must gather all who have sought,

The treasure of the ancient ones that you so seek,

This journey you embark on is not for the weak,

But find the friends you need to trust and believe,

And you will find the home you will never leave.

I wake up, and it is still dawn, and my dream has been lost. I cannot remember it, but I am not worried. It will come to me again, in the strangest of times. 

I get up from my cot and get dressed in my day robes. Wondering, if mother was awake. 

I put the kettle on the stove and lit it, waiting for the water to boil. Usually mother does it, as I am afraid of the fire, of it burning me, consuming me.. Common sense tells me that the fire will not indeed harm me, but I am still afraid of it, my opposite element, that threatens to destroy instead of to heal.

But today is a big day, that cannot wait for others. Today is the day when decisions will be made. The Rite of Recollection will happen at sunset tonight and I must be there. It is my duty to the Shrine, as I am one of the few maidens who can speak to the old gods. Only those who remain pure and virginal can call them.

Today I must listen.

The old gods are wise, knowing. Their knowing fuels me, to be like them. I wish to be part of them one day, walking in the midst of the ancient stars that still dwell in immortal light. Hoping for a better world, a better place, a safety to call my home.

The world has changed since the ancient days of yore. I have hope it will change again, at the beginning of the end, at the end of another beginning. 

So much cruelty to be found in the wake of us humans. There was once an infinite space and time, whole and perfect, not separated but held together by the magic of the gods. Humans have destroyed it. They have waged war against the gods, striving to overcome them.