Hear these words,

my siblings in faith

from far and wide.

For this is the good word.

-The Gospel according to the Holy First Handmaiden.

A nothingness rushed past Celeste in a wave as she floated through the place between. Her form was nothing, the world was nothing, and her thoughts were nothing. Yet here she was, something.

Tides of ethereal clouds crashed over her, glistening with an effervescent glow, pushing Celeste’s weightless form through this endless place. The clouds pushed her along the endless ocean of light, the thrum of its energy pulsing through her in torrents.

Then there was the voice.

It echoed through this place like a hawk’s call in a canyon, bouncing across the towering walls of life that filled this place. It was the sound of a rushing stream budding with fish all vying to get down the river. It was the whimper of a newborn foal. It was life itself.

“Celeste…” It called, faintly, weakly, as if muffled by some invisible barrier. It called to her and she tried to focus on it. Her thoughts here were as fleeting as dragonfly in spring though, and as she tried to force her focus, memories slipped in instead. Memories of pain.

Her friends had been hurt, and the glowing clouds around her grew laden with shadows. Her friends had been in danger. Frantically she tried to search for them in the consuming darkness. Hands that were not hands reached out desperately to grasp the strings that wrapped her heart, the strings she knew connected to them.

Her hands slid across the light, grasping for strings. Fingers brushing one, she felt some of the panic leave her. It felt strong, like a mighty shield, yet… it also felt broken, as though a crack was forming in the metal that was near unmendable.

“Gardinal…” She thought, the name cascading through the air like a thunderstrike, darkened clouds illuminating across sharp teal arcs. She flinched but felt some relief. He was alive, and for now that would be enough.

She searched further, fingers slipping over the odd frayed string that felt so sad. Celeste passed it over quickly, searching for those that connected to her friends. Slowly, her ethereal fingers wrapped one. This string felt dark, like a shadow of the others. It felt so full of conflict, so unsure of itself, and so pained. Vallerian, Celeste realized, shocked at the depth of his conflict that appeared as battling thunderclouds, smashing against each other high and low.

Celeste cringed away, floating through the energy beneath her, searching for one more string. There was still one more she needed to find, one more who she must…

Celeste’s hand found the frayed string once more, it felt… close. Instinctively she wrapped her hands around it, pulling gently as to not snap the frail connection.

The world of between melted away. Shadow and light, lightening and darkness, it all flushed away in a whirlwind that sucked it all down into empty nothingness.

Then Celeste blinked, and she was in a bed. Looking down, she stared wide eyed at the odd cloth that covered her. It was soft, like a silk, but near ephemeral. The only thing making it seem more than a cloud atop her was the rich embroidery depicting root and tree and animals in some sort of procession. The cloth depicted more animals than Celeste had seen in even a bestiary.

Glancing around with blurry eyes, she found herself in a large rectangular chamber carved from white stone. Along the walls rich carvings depicted all sorts of stories that she had never seen before, illuminated in gold, silver, and bronze. Each of the stories marched from her bed, around the room, and toward an open doorway with more of that ethereal cloth blocking the way. Slowly, Celeste rose from her bed, being careful not to damage the master-woven bedding.

Slipping her bare feet onto the floor, she felt surprised to find the stones pleasantly temperate. Turning with a yawn, her eyes grew wide and her breath caught.

A short step away behind her bed was a wall solely made up of huge stone columns. The columns themselves were carved from the same white stone as the room, with small alcoves fitted with flowering ivy that overflowed from their casings. But it was what stood behind the those pillars that Celeste could not tear her gaze from. An endless expanse of sky. Celeste stared out in awe; surely such a sight could only be seen from the tallest tower in the royal palace. Was that where this was? Why was she in the palace?

Tentatively, she stepped over, hoping to catch a sight to confirm her suspicions. A light breeze danced through the room as she did so, the dozens of potted plants around the room swaying gently in turn.

Reaching the pillars, Celeste felt her legs grow weak leaning against a column for support. This was no tower, she realized looking out over the sprawling branches that spread out before her. Branches wider than rivers, stretching out in every which direction, above and below. Her vision grew blurry as she looked down at it all, saw the people moving about the long branches, walking across ornate bridges that connected them, moving in and out of massive stone ziggurats that looked like paintings come to life. From this high it was like seeing little feeder fish, rushing along their small streams.

Celeste watched it all, saw the life flourishing here, millions of people walking among the great tree’s limbs, and she felt her heart drop. Something was wrong. What was wrong? She thought desperately, trying to understand.

High in the tree

“My love?” A voice called out to her from the entryway, a strong, masculine voice. Deep and powerful it pulled at her heart. Turning, Celeste saw the man, striding into the room with his broad chest bared. My husband. Celeste thought with shock. “Are you…”

The man’s golden eyes grew wide with shock as he placed his hand upon his chest, stumbling into the wall. Celeste stepped over to help him, then felt a deep stabbing course through her own chest. Collapsing to the stone floor Celeste struggled to breath.

“What… what is happening?” Celeste gasped, as she began to hear a screaming in her mind. A voice in pure agony that sounded neither male nor female wracking her mind with pain. Celeste felt strong hands grasp her, pulling her to her feet.

“We must leave…” She heard the man shouting, desperately. “My love we must…” the man pleaded with her, but Celeste could only stumble back to the wall, felt drawn to see what was about to happen. What had to happen. What had happened. Celeste clumsily stepped towards the edge. Leaning against the pillar for support, she looked down at those people. The millions of Sherya who had made this place their home.

The tree exploded into flames.

The screaming grew louder, that powerful genderless screaming echoing through her mind. But then it was joined, a chorus of pain and flashing across her vision. She watched those small shapes of people become consumed by the fire, saw wooden boughs as large as towers crackling with flame. Branches began to collapse under their weight, giant stone structures collapsing like pebbles to the earth. She felt the people dying, felt their suffering flowing through her. A million souls bashing against her own, cutting through her like a million needles piercing her heart.

The hands tried to pull her away again, tried to plead with her to go, but Celeste couldn’t. She could not leave these people to suffer, she had to bear witness to their end. Somehow, she knew she had to. That was why she was here, she knew.

Then the stone beneath her collapsed, and Celeste began to tumble through the sky. Stone and wood and gold fell around her with the glow of fire to illuminate them. Screams of pain and suffering lost to the howl of wind and roar of fire. She watched, as the earth rose to meet her like a hungry maw, and Celeste prepared for the peace to come with it.