ON A SATURDAY MORNING, many people slept comfortably in warm homes, while others shivered from the cold front that tormented the state. The normal array of signs supporting the rights of fae was put on hold, for the people who waved them were mourning the death of a man named Simon Coy. As Novus Episcopal Church held a packed funeral for Simon, most of the city wept for what they feared was to come. Tragedy often sparked unrest, and those who opposed mixing with the fae had a twisted way of blaming them for everything.
Newsstands with a recording of a woman talking to the public were on the corners of practically every street in the capital city of Tallahassee, Florida. Her image hovered in the air in a holographic form. She stood tall, with rich brown skin and short black hair formed in a pixie cut.
“All Earthlings are one. The anti-fae rebellion must end. We all come from Eden.” The woman repeated the phrase throughout the city.
“Fuck that woman!” a rebel yelled, glaring at a newsstand. He reeked of meth and hatred. “You call her The Mother?!” he scoffed. “You call her a god?! There’s only one God! Isis is one of the fae! Why can’t y’all see that?!”
The angry rebel spotted a pale woman with blue eyes and light blond hair rushing his way. Her long braid swung behind her, and smoke was escaping her nostrils. Frantic, the rebel turned, only to be intercepted by a police officer of the Old Precinct. The officer was tan, like sunbathing was his hobby. He had graying brown hair and dark blue eyes. And he irritably yanked the rebel into his arms.
Close to twenty-five years ago, during the summer of 2200, humans had been met with a twist in their perception of what was real. As the human world continued to create inventions that made one’s life easier and came up with methods to pacify climate change, bizarre discoveries made headlines after a humanoid group of fae came out of hiding. Nymphs, elves, fairies, trolls, and goblins were the five species of fae, and most human societies froze when they left their hideouts in the Southeast of the United States.
But when the fae drifted solely to Tallahassee, the city quickly formed an alliance with them. Among those who grew notorious for their support of fae rights were the Sparrows and Acostas, the Adams, Novus Episcopal Church, and most of the local police department—specifically, the Old Precinct.
However, not everyone was welcoming in Tallahassee. As if the nation had not already been thrown into a web of confusion, the nation’s government was not surprised by the fae’s existence. Soon, millions of American citizens became paranoid.
And paranoid people had a habit of creating a mess of things…
“Let me go! I did nothing wrong!! It’s called freedom of speech, you pig.” The rebel struggled to free himself from the handcuffs being placed on his wrists. He locked eyes with the cop, who pulled up a holographic warrant from his watch. “That’s not me. I don’t participate in vandalism.”
“I’m pretty sure this is you,” the officer said, staring at a large scar on the rebel’s cheek that matched the photo of the man who looked like him.
“That’s probably some fae that did magic to impersonate me,” the rebel said confidently. “You should be going after them, not me. You probably won’t, cos the cops here just love the fae. Don’t y’all?”
“I somehow doubt that.” The officer dragged the rebel to his police car. He looked back at the woman, whose nostrils were no longer emitting smoke, and said, “Wait there, Wren.”
Wren nodded and fixed her hair. Black ribbons were woven into her fair locks, forming a long braid reaching her mid-back. She looked down at her black gothic dress to see if any debris was attached.
After the officer placed the man in the backseat of his car, he returned to the woman who had helped intercept the crazed rebel. “I told you not to interfere,” the officer said, scolding her.
She defended herself. “I’m the one that told you he was out here.”
Wren had spotted the rebel who the police were looking for on her way to buy coffee before her friend’s funeral. She was surprised that the anti-fae radical was proudly standing near the Old Precinct right after a warrant was announced for his arrest.
“You’re not a cop,” the officer said. “Eudora would have the entire department’s head if she knew you were out here tackling rebels.”
“But I can do weird things, Jackson,” Wren said and hunched over, spreading her fingers wide, acting spooky. “Didn’t you know that?”
“Speaking of weird things—we need you to come down to the station sometime this week to retrieve information from the rebels,” Jackson said. “We need to know what the Human Coalition is planning. That okay?”
“So, I can’t tackle rebels, but I can read their minds to help the police?” Wren asked the cop.
“Correct.” Jackson nodded.
“Just making sure that you’re aware that you’re all a bunch of hypocrites,” Wren said.
“If you want to tackle criminals, become a police officer,” Jackson told her, his eyes becoming stern.
“No. I’m perfectly happy being a dollmaker.” Wren folded her arms. “I can make a doll in a cop uniform, but as a cop, I can’t wear dresses. Just let me tackle the rebels.”
The officer turned away and walked back to his car, shaking his head. “You’re a nut!”
“Takes one to know one, Jackson!” Wren yelled out to the officer.
Inside the patrol car, the rebel was staring at Wren, who was walking toward a coffee shop. When Jackson slid into the driver’s seat, the rebel leaned forward and asked, “Ain’t that the Sparrow girl?”
Jackson turned around and looked at the fanatical man through the glass. “Mind your business.”
“It is, ain’t it?” the man in the backseat hollered. “Well, I’ll be damned. I met the Wren Sparrow.”
“Leave her alone,” Jackson said seriously. “You guys come after her, and we’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”
The rebel scoffed. “Why would we go after Ms. Darling? Everyone knows she can do magic.”
“Cut the crap. We know the Human Coalition wants her dead.” Jackson cursed and started the engine.
The rebel was shocked. “How’d you know that? I mean—no, we don’t.”
“Fucking hell,” Jackson muttered. “You guys are morons.”
The rebel started shouting, cheering on another extremist who was holding up a sign. Jackson looked at the poster: I Didn’t Evolve. I’m A God-Fearing Man! He grumbled as he drove slowly by the crazed man who was proudly holding his sign.
The arrested rebel became louder. “Settle down, or I’ll make you,” Jackson shouted toward the back. “I should have used the tranquilizer cuffs on you. Do you want to be re-cuffed?”
“Fuck yeah, man! That shit makes you feel like you’re flying.” The rebel in the back looked excited.
“For fuck’s sake,” Jackson cursed. “You’re getting high off handcuffs?”
The rebel shrugged. “You’re the ones who added drugs to the things.”
Jackson eyed the other rebel with the sign. “Well, you guys are right about one thing.”
“We’re right about a lot of things,” the detained rebel told Jackson arrogantly.
“Not all of us evolved. Some of you are still stuck in the stone age.” Jackson looked back at the rebel with a smirk.
The dimwitted rebel grumbled and noticed something dangling from the officer’s rearview mirror. It was a braided charm promoting primate studies—a gift from Jackson’s daughter, who was going to college for anthropology. While it brought the officer luck, it troubled the rebel, and the hateful man frowned as he read what was woven into the braid: Zyula.
“Zyula this, zyula that. Y’all arguing about where you come from. But y’all just a bunch of heathens. We come from the one true God.” The rebel nodded with his eyes closed. “Y’all going to Hell.”
“Do you really believe in the crap you’re spewing?” Jackson laughed and stopped at a red light. He glanced at the jail on the other side of the light, then looked up at the mirror to gaze back at the rebel. “They have evidence that the zyula were real.”
“You sound like a science man, pig. Don’t tell me you agree with the fae?” the rebel asked with wide eyes. “You’re a fucking traitor to this country and not worthy of that badge. Let me out!”
“Science denier? Consider me shocked,” Jackson said dryly. Under the swinging charm was an interactive hologram of the car’s center console, and he quickly pushed a preset on his satellite radio to turn on Science Now, a fae network. As if it was perfect timing, a human scientist and fae scholar were talking about the zyula and katani…
“Let me get this straight—you’re still saying the katani came to life from clay idols?” the scientist asked the scholar. “All these years, and I still don’t understand why you all believe in this nonsense. The katani are part of the animal kingdom, just like the zyula. Why does this offend you?”
“Because it’s simply not true,” the elven scholar retorted politely.
According to the fae’s evolutionary theory, two ancient humanoids had roamed the planet over two hundred million years ago. The fae called them the zyula and katani, but human scientists named them Vetus lupo primatus and Edax ossium, after the fae had shared their fossils with them.
During the Triassic Period, the zyula had emerged alongside small shrew-like animals. While the shrews had descended into various groups of mammals, populations of the zyula lines had evolved into primates during the Late Cretaceous Period. Since the zyula and small shrews had shared a common ancestor, descendants of both became tied by blood.
Around the same time the zyula had evolved into primates, most of the katani had descended into what would be known as fae. A few species of both fae and primates varied, such as goblins and monkeys, while others remained closer to their ancestors, like nymphs and humans.
“You agree that Earth is a part of Eden, correct?” the elf asked.
“Well, yes…” the human mumbled about Eden—the giant planet Earth was only a fragment of.
“Then, why is it so hard to understand that some Edenians could have survived and created the katani?” The elven scholar was getting upset.
“Because the Edenians are all extinct,” the human scientist answered. “You guys claim Eden exploded and created the solar system. Well, that’s all fine and good—we’re in agreement with that. There’s proof of that. But how could lifeforms survive on different planets with different gasses? Don’t tell me they’re all running around in spacesuits—”
The radio host chimed in to prevent the two from arguing.
“Let’s see if we can find something else,” Jackson muttered, shifting through the presets on his radio. He eyed his audio file. “Oh, I know.”
“God, no. Turn that horseshit off!” the rebel yelled.
Pressing the Play button, Jackson grinned as Isis’ voice filled the car…
“Abiding by the natural law of the lands, the zyula were once viewed as the perfect apex predator,” Isis said, describing the two species of Pangaea. “Due to a genetic anomaly, the zyula could transform from human-like to wolf-like and had intelligence beyond any other animal. They had a stronger bite than a Tyrannosaurus rex and reached almost fifteen-feet tall. Being cruel monstrosities, they had often hunted out of boredom.”
It was a recorded lecture Isis had given at a convention held by Science Now. “But the katani proved to be a worthy contender. Coming to life from clay idols, the katani were made from magic to offset the zyula, who were conquering the planet like a pestilence. Standing much shorter than the zyula at around six feet, the katani made up for their missing height by wielding powerful magic. Their bloodlust was reflected in their eyes, and their dull teeth were strong enough to shatter bone—”
“Turn it off!!” the rebel shouted behind Jackson. “Turn it off!! Turn it off!!”
Jackson paused the audio. “Are you going to be quiet?”
The rebel released a hot breath of air, grumbling.
When the fae first shared their theories with the humans, much of the human world laughed. The allegations sounded like the ramblings from a conspiracy theorist who was stuck in a cave. Though they were one to talk, since human science was often criticized within fae society. But the communities of both groups eventually came together.
“You better be careful, officer,” the detained rebel warned Jackson, leaning forward in his seat. “The Devil will snatch you and drag you to Hell. I’ve seen him. He’s got these chains and smells like death.” The rebel looked through his window and saw a woman in the car next to them singing to herself. “A war is coming, and you need to make right with the lord.”
Jackson rolled his eyes.
“No, sir.” The rebel banged his head on the window when he noticed the most disturbing of signs. On the woman’s car door, there was a decal of an infinity symbol and the words: Support The Mage’s Guild. We All Come From Eden! “No, sir! Eden and the mages are the workings of the Devil. That woman there is fae. You should be arresting her! Let me out!”
The woman driving the car heard banging and turned her head to look at the patrol car next to her, noticing the rebel throwing his head her way. Even though Jackson waved an apology to her, she quickly rolled up her window.
After the light turned green, Jackson turned into the parking lot of the Old Precinct and walked to the back to re-cuff the man, who immediately entered a trancelike state.
“You damn idiot,” Jackson hissed. “What? You didn’t like her sticker?”
“Fuck… you…” the arrested man said with slurred speech.
“Do you ever think before you speak, or do you just vomit bullshit?” Jackson asked.
The rebel mumbled and leaned back into the seat, closing his eyes to enjoy the high.
Across from the downtown jail that Jackson had pulled into, stood a group of elven mages on break. They were staring at the detention center, which was becoming full of lunatics. A mage saw Jackson struggling to haul the rebel out of his car, so he snapped his fingers, and the arrested man floated unwillingly.
Jackson looked over at the mages and noticed that one had summoned a luminous rune, which he was holding, for levitation. He waved at them, only for the mages to turn their backs on him.
“What’s up, guys?” Wren walked up to the group of mages, her black-gloved hands holding a coffee she had just bought. She had already drunk half, and the caffeine had her rushing around the area in a manic frenzy. “You know where Rose is? I want to check on her before the funeral.”
She saw Jackson enter the station across the street. “Did you see the guy Jackson arrested? I helped catch him,” she bragged.
The mages turned to Wren. While they normally detested humans, they did not mind most of the ones in the city—especially the daughter of the Sparrows, who was known for her odd ability of telepathy. Thankfully, the mages were trained to harden their minds.
“She’s patrolling the art district,” one mage told Wren. “It has the least rebel activity, so she was assigned there for her first day. She’s with Marie; don’t worry.”
“Marie?” Wren asked.
“Her mentor,” another mage chimed in. “Marie’s a scrawny thing, but very powerful. She’s in good hands.”
Wren nodded and said, “I’ll just call her.” She walked backwards from the group, waving. “Thanks, guys.”
She spun around and headed toward Novus, but she stopped when she noticed a new hologram appearing next to where Isis hovered at a nearby newsstand. It was a poster of both Isis and her top assistant, Tabitha, waving from Mars.
Wren walked up to the poster and stared at the image. She lowered her gaze to a message scrolling across the poster that read: The Dynamic Duo Is At It Again. Edenian Fossils Found On Mars!
“Isis found new fossils,” Wren whispered.
Isis and Tabitha had become a worldwide sensation over two decades ago, after being interviewed by the White House press. During the interview, humans were startled by their claims: a soul, magic, three parallel realms, godlike aliens—the findings were numerous.
“Damn fae.” A man in a suit glared at the poster, walking swiftly by the newsstand. “They should all just move to Mars.”
Before Wren could yell at the man who sided with the rebels, he merged with the crowds who roamed the sidewalk. While Isis and Tabitha had won over the hearts of many humans, they also received a lot of hate. It was a difficult period of change, for some skeptics kept a harsh tongue.
Wren brushed off the man’s words and turned back to the poster.
“Fossils,” Wren said excitedly to a woman who was reading a virtual magazine at the newsstand.
The woman reading about a pop singer did not care about the fossils and ignored Wren, thinking loudly, Can’t she see me reading? How rude.
Wren scowled at the woman, who cared more about the entertainment world than scientific discoveries.
“They found fossils on Mars!” Wren exclaimed to the woman and walked away from the newsstand. Looking back, she shouted, “And you’re the rude one!”
The woman looked up at Wren, startled, and watched the odd dollmaker walk around the corner and toward the church.
Wait, isn’t she the one that makes the protection dolls? the woman thought and looked away from Wren to search through the rows of news and entertainment. Her eyes landed on the cover of Tallahassee’s local business magazine, where Wren was smiling, holding a porcelain doll. The woman picked up the magazine, staring at the cover. Then, a hologram of the new protection doll emerged from the cover, singing a lullaby. “I’ve been waiting for these to come out!”
The woman looked back to see Wren, the heir to a global wine company who preferred to be a dollmaker, but she was gone.
The woman then turned to the poster to read about the fossils.
As identical fossils kept appearing on Mars and Earth, connecting the two planets together, Isis had gradually revealed her phylogenetic tree of life for Eden: the Ossa Antiquorum. While this chart helped everyone understand the lifeforms of Eden, there was one thing both human and fae scientists struggled with…
What happened to one’s energetic self after death? Surely, not everyone could rise from their grave like Isis.
After Isis had allowed an international group of human scientists to examine her body in 2202, it had been hypothesized that her atoms went through a drastic change that had left her in a frozen state. Initially, they did not believe a soul was driving her corpse, but when the scientists scanned her head during the exam, there was no brain to be found—only a cluster of gas forming a cloud of stars. And when the puzzled scientists of the chilly lab tried to theorize what Isis could actually be—most of them spouting alien theories—she took it upon herself to show them her true form. She raised her hand to her own throat and ripped it open, pouring her essence from her body and onto the floor. The gas and energy that formed her soul weaved back together, creating an energetic copy of her physical form. She then entered her corpse, and when she opened her eyes, the wound in her throat sealed. Looking around the room, she had told them, “If you want further proof, you can also leave your shells.”
In the end, they had agreed Isis was whatever she claimed to be, for no one from that day wanted to leave their “shells.” Respectfully, they called her The Mother—after she had told them it was her title—but they did not quite understand the meaning behind the name.
The sixty-seven physicists, biologists, and neuroscientists who had tested Isis released the examination results. And it was enough for most humans to believe in the soul theory.
While Isis’ anatomy may have proven that there was a soul, no one knew where the souls of the dead went. Isis was technically a demigoddess, but she was limited in her knowledge, as the blessing given to her had its restrictions. She could not take portals outside of the solar system or instantly know the truths of the universe, like a god, so she had to resort to earthly ways of study.
Science.
Despite not knowing where one went after life, the discovery of a spirit made humans not fear death. This resulted in a chaotic transformation among human societies. Some people became happier, but many became darker, and a few came up with conspiracies that the fae were sent by the Devil to test one’s faith in God. And while the passing of loved ones was not met with the same intense emotions, the deceased were still being mourned. No one knew where anyone went or if they would ever see each other again, and this brought unease.
The worst part of the discovery of a soul was that murder and suicide rates increased drastically among humans. It was as if no one cared that the details of what happened after death remained a mystery. Where the soul went could be worse than not existing. What if the soul remained in the body, stuck between the bones and ash for all eternity? What if death was an eternal punishment, and rebirth was just a fairytale?
*****
When Tabitha requested to have a meeting with the president of the United States during the spring of 2201, they ended up doing a national interview. Tabitha was enraged that their theory on how the katani came to be was being mocked by human scientists—especially since they had gifted some of their ancient fossils to the humans months ago. As the fae scientist complained and tried to explain the validity of their claims, people only saw a short woman who spoke in fast riddles while flailing her arms. And humans quickly grew to adore Tabitha, a very short nymph with light skin covered in freckles and bright-red hair.
After the president reassured Tabitha that they were not mocking the fae’s claims and were just adjusting to the discoveries, she felt comfortable enough to share more of their scientific findings. She explained how the fae were capable of magic, but it was not magic in the sense of fantasy. And when she mentioned their proof of life after death, the president laughed from a place of endearment.
After realizing she was not being taken seriously, Tabitha began to stutter. She explained their research on multiple pantheons of godlike aliens, only for the host to break out into a loud laugh. Humans did not see Tabitha as a scientist at the beginning, and her words were perceived as comedy. The host kept interviewing her because of her witty charm, often asking her if she was performing a skit that the fae arranged.
“Whatever’s going on, I love it.” The president laughed. “I could use you in the White House. First clay idols and now alien-gods?”
Tabitha jumped out of her seat; her tolerance was fading.
Proving the existence of magic was an easy feat, considering the fae themselves were capable of magic. And Tabitha conjured water on the stage. But the understanding that magic was just manipulating energy seemed to escape the human populace. As Tabitha grew annoyed, trying to explain how energy could be controlled by one’s hypnotic cells, which were common in the fae, an icy breeze filled the room. A slight twist of air formed in the middle of the stage, and the president and host stopped talking.
The short scientist raised her arms as if she were forming a cheer, and she announced to the audience that her boss was arriving. The proof that the gods were not a fabrication, and that consciousness survived bodily decay, came from the life of a person who had survived the clutches of death.
Her name was Isis.
The viewers flipped out when Isis walked on stage from her portal. Isis sat next to Tabitha, scanning the room, and everyone dropped into an eerie silence.
Then, Isis said a few words in a voice that seemed to echo softly off the floor. Staring the president in the eyes, she stated, “I was born human, and I died human, but I came back as this.”
While Isis kept the details of how she came back from human ears, she spoke about other things. She explained their theory of three parallel realms and how one’s energetic self did not end upon the decay of flesh, but the humans did not know what to think. A resurrected human with godlike powers? Portals? Three realms? Scientific evidence of a soul? What in the world was happening? The fae’s discoveries were getting stranger.
“W-what are you?!” a woman yelled from the audience.
“Bet she’s a nymph,” a man whispered to the woman.
Isis snapped her head toward the person who had accused her of being a nymph, and the man slouched in his seat from her ancient glare. She stood up from her chair, nodding at Tabitha, and left the stage through her portal. She had no time for fools. If she was not to be believed, then she would let the fools stay blind.
Even though the audience viewed Isis as a long-lived fae, despite none of the fae living past two hundred years, the fae knew otherwise.
Isis was blessed by the Shadow King.
And the Shadow King was the first child of Chaos…
Isis was born on the outskirts of Egypt in the year 2500 BCE of the Old Kingdom. Being raised by her blind grandmother, she was taught the art of magic and divination. When Isis was mortal, humans and fae lived together. But as new kings came to power, prejudice toward the fae blossomed, and hate had spread like a poison throughout Egypt.
When Isis was thirteen, she made a vow to a creature hiding in the shadows. Mistaking the being for a frightened nymph, she had dedicated her life to saving the fae who were being persecuted for being different.
At twenty-five, Isis turned her grandmother’s house into a temple. While all the fae would seek her out for aid, it was mostly the nymphs she had become familiar with, for they remained living within human society after most of the fae fled. The nymphs did not want to flee their homes, for they were a species who took pride in their dwellings, most never moving from their birthplace. Nymphs could have easily blended into human civilization, as they looked a lot like humans, but they were honest about who they were. They were a wonderful blend of honor and humility. And the humans took advantage of this, often forcing them into servitude.
When Isis turned forty, she had become so proficient in magic that her mind attracted a god, and attention from the gods was never good. While Isis sat upon her stone throne, healing the common fae and human, a god named Nao walked into the priestess’ temple in the guise of a pauper. He tossed a coin at Isis, and thousands of coins started spilling out of her mouth. An ominous laugh escaped his greedy lips, and he watched as her followers rushed toward the gold. People dug into Isis to grab more coins. Shoved under the crowd, she died a painful death. Nao returned to his shattered kingdom in Kanaria before the shadows could claim him.
However, Isis was stolen from death by the creature who hid in the shadows. But life was not what she returned to. When she came back, she stopped aging and did not need to breathe oxygen. Her magic became stronger—strong enough to lead the fae into hiding while human empires fought and enslaved each other. She had created remote communities across Earth for the fae to live.
Isis became the fae’s messiah, though a messiah, she never wanted to be.
Tortures that would give nightmares a fright were inflicted upon other humans in the fae’s absence. As time went by, Isis could hear the pain and suffering of others. One day, she unknowingly walked through a portal and stood before a huddle of nymph children, who were crying over the murder of their animal companion. Humans were always cruel to the fae, and the year 2459 BCE was not any different.
Watching Isis bring the kids’ cat back to life, the very being who had stolen Isis from death gifted her a crown of shadow, giving her the powers of half a god.
At that moment, Isis understood who the creature from the shadows was: the Shadow King, the tortured and isolated god from the shadow realm.
The god had watched Isis from within his shade, and as she had healed the downtrodden, she had reflected the purest of hearts. Because of that virtue, the Shadow King granted Isis a title, and she became known as The Mother of Lost and Abandoned Children, and her pain never ceased. Temples to honor Isis were built, and many deities representing her were created.
But the truth of who Isis was had been lost in the tragedies of history.
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