The Silver Stone

In one of the many galaxies of the universe exists a world called Welt. As of this moment, a strange sight occurred in the dark space surrounding the planet. A bright point of light fell faster than any eye could see into the world, past its atmosphere and into the ocean. The power of its fall upset the oceans making them rise and march towards solid land. This lasted for many years, but finally the seas grew still.

According to Peter’s father, that had happened centuries ago in the final years of the Legend Era, a time of incomparable glory. Celestials had been numerous in numbers and the mortal races lived under their rule. But all that ended as the Aingeal arose from whatever strange land they called home.

That was way before my birth and has nothing to do with me.

Peter was holding a large net upon his shoulder and in his left hand was a wooden fish hook. The sun was rapidly approaching the west which meant now was a good time to catch some fish. Typically, Peter’s father used to do this, but after his encounter with the Sea Cow, he lost his hands meaning he had to provide for him.

He soon caught sight of the vast ocean, it was a sight that always took him by surprise. The might and endless tides of the ocean were a thing of beauty and power and every day it cast a spell upon him. Peter hastened his feet till he reached the edge of the cliff and the sound of crashing waves was right by his ears. He would have stayed there, but his task called him and he turned right.

Due to the small glade that separated both sides of the cliff, he could not cut through its center but had to go all the way around before heading downwards towards the river. Fishing in the ocean was the domain of a skilled man not a foolish youth. At least, that was what his father always said.

“Finally here,” Peter said, stopping by the river which was slowly becoming decorated with fishes coming out before night to feed themselves. He set himself by the riverbank and tossed his net into the river, picked up his hook, and flung its bait-holding tip into the water between the net. The net was for money and his hook for pleasure. Any stray fish that escaped the net would be his alone.

Fishing was an enjoyable necessity to Peter so he always got excited for it, but right now, his eyes trembled lazily as sleep overwhelmed him. His hands shook causing some of the fishes to flee, but by then he was halfway into the world of dreams. In there, he was subject to strange sensations of fiery heat and icy cold when he suddenly felt his hand shaking like it was holding something too heavy for…

Peter’s eyes snapped open and right before his eyes was one of the Great Fishes. Its body had a strange sheen to it and it was three times as long as most fishes. Its jaw opened wide to swallow him when he instinctively began to pull his net and it did not respond then he realized that it was full. But panic had already seized him, so he pulled even harder and a snapping sound told him that his net was broken. The net that had accompanied his ancestors for centuries was gone in the blink of an eye, all their work done-

Peter glanced up at the falling fish and thought, I don’t want to-

He did not get to finish as it fell upon him crushing his head against the stones by the river. As it did so, the fish came to a sudden standstill then it began to writhe like a dancing snake before falling over dead. It fell on its side revealing its exposed ribs and mangled flesh followed by a glinting object that rolled out of its body and into Peter’s blood.

Suddenly, the object’s glint transformed into a silver glow that put the full moon to shame. This glow slipped into Peter’s blood and the stones it stained melting them together and pushing it towards Peter’s nigh lifeless form. The two met just as the stone rolled gently into Peter’s palm and he unconsciously took hold of it.

Rise, heart of my desire lest the shadows of death take you before you are complete.

Peter burst awake with a terrified scream. He grabbed his face expecting to feel mangled flesh and shattered bones, but all he touched was his unmarked face. He ran to the river glanced at his reflection and let out a short gasp. The first thing he noticed was his eyes, they were glowing like refined metal. Then he took note of his hair which was now pale in color. He glanced around and saw the dead Great Fish; its blood already flowing into the river.

“It’s dead,” he noted. “Does that mean someone healed m-”

Peter was suddenly aware of the object in his left hand. He glanced at it and saw a stone with the sheen of silver, unblemished in form and perfectly round.

“What’s this?’ he whispered, bringing it close to his eyes. There was an aura with the stone that was not only sweeping away his panic but pouring comfort and confidence into him. Cloaked with its might, a smile spread on his face and from that day forth his life was changed.

Peter tucked the stone into his robes and ran back home. Gone was his desire to fish, all he wanted to do was admire this stone in a place where no eyes whether man or beast could see him. He reached his home as the moon broke free the clouds falling onto his pale hair and startling the old man guarding his village who screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Aingeal!” he cried out. “Arise, the Aingeal are here!”

His cry made Peter who had grown up with terrifying stories about the Aingeal pick up his pace, scaring the old man even more who turned around and began to flee. Within the village itself, doors were slammed open as the various residents dressed simply for night-time ran outside. Children wept as the voices of their parents grew loud and emotional. It was then that Peter looked back and saw no one causing him to stop and think.

Wait...does he think I’m an Aingeal?

“Didar, it’s me, Peter!” he cried out. “There are no Aingeal here?”

His familiar voice quenched the flames of panic and all eyes fell on the pale-haired creatures with eyes of refined silver. His originally thin body had filled out a bit more and he looked taller than before.

“The form is not, but the voice is Peter’s,” Didar muttered.

“We should call his father Esai to come verify his identity.” one of the older women said. The village agreed and so one of the quick youth was sent to fetch Esai from his home. While every other person had quickly fled their homes, Esai remained within, unable to open the door of his own accord. Soon, he was guided forth and set his eyes on Peter.

“Who-” he began before coming to a stop and studying him even more. Eventually-

“Peter, is that you?” he called out stumbling forward towards him. Peter, worried about his father, ran forward with all his might catching him before he fell. His action generated gasps among the villagers who all drew back and he heard some mutter.

“The Gift of the Fallen.”

Peter felt his body turn cold as his euphoria faded and he began to think rationally. The gift of the Fallen referred to people who abandoned their race by bowing the the Fallen and leader of the Aingeal for power, wealth or longevity.

“I don’t have the Gift!” he cried out. “I just-”

Peter suddenly stopped as he thought of the stone being taken from him. A terrible shudder spread from his flesh deep into his soul and his eyes began to resemble that of a cornered beast.

“He does have the Gift! Those who do cannot deny it with their words!” Didar cried out. As one of the oldest members of the community, he had been but a young boy when the Aingeal last attacked, and of them all, he held a terrible hatred for them.

“Cursed child, just as you killed your mother, you plan to kill us all!”

Peter’s eyes swam with anger and he was too stunned to reply. His mother had died birthing him, but to accuse him of killing his mother when he wished…

Against his skin, the stone grew warm and its warmth stoked the flames of his anger. Before he knew it, he rose up swiftly and struck Didar by the side of his head. Even in his anger, Peter was shocked at what came next. Didar’s body flew back with great speed and crashed into one of the buildings. A loud crack could be heard before he slid down, his red blood clawing at the walls as he hit the earth, a corpse.

Silence like never before fell on the people and within his arms, Peter felt his father tremble and he knew he had done evil. Gone was the warmth and now all was clear.

“Monster.” That was how it began, as a whisper and then it turned into roars of fear as the villagers picked up stones, sticks, and any available weapon. They threw them at him, but he could not put up resistance. Peter glanced up to see a decently sized stone heading his way but made no move to dodge. This was his…

A cry of pain rose forth, but it did not come from his lips but from the lips of the person before him.

“Father!” he cried out, pulling him back and gasping with shock. The stone had struck him in his left eye, crushing it and pushing it into his head.

“This can’t be happening! Father, can you hear me?! Father!”

Esai’s good eye fluttered open and it gazed around deliriously for a moment before recognizing Peter’s voice.

“Go Peter, you must leave this place.”

“No, I won’t leave till whoever threw that stone pay-”

“Blood has been paid with blood. You struck Didar and now I was struck.” Esai said and then with a roar he declared,

“Blood has been paid with blood.”

With his strength gone, death took him and he knew no more. But his passionate cry broke through the villagers’ anger and they stopped attacking.

“Father. Father, Father!” Peter cried out, but there was no reply. His father was gone, returned to the hands of the Creator.

“Why? Why? Why?! Is it this stone?!” he cried out, raising it from his bosom to the sky, but no reply was given. Rather the stone glowed almost with pride and Peter was filled with disgust at it. But he tucked it back in his bosom. As he did this, his father’s blood fell on the stone, and from it arose tendrils of silver light and took hold of his father’s body and pulled it into the stone.

Come, we must leave lest the Aingeal find you and end you.

It was the stone’s voice and it once more brought him tranquility in this dark time, so while he hated it, he had trust in its voice. But he refused to move and so the stone struck him in the chest and it came to pass that Peter left his village behind.