Another day of eternity - Inside the Paragon of the Celestial House
In a mannered way, he ridded himself of his armour, resting his gauntlet. His stare remained pointed at a mirror. Soft sighing was heard as he welcomed the day unfaithfully.
He had lost count.
He lost track of time, another day, what day it was. Even for such a place of eternity, life was again meaningless once a purpose defied destiny. All he had was his fading memory. Fading away. Vaguely.
Aldrich Jyester.
A former star warrior, no longer a stray nomad, now a Celestial. He was known for nobility. Tall. Decent. His hair was always shiny—a depiction of a visionary. But... even in eternity, nothing remained eternally. His brothers. His blood family. His purpose.
All and everything within himself seemed to change rapidly, ordinarily.
What is his destiny?
Aldrich and his brothers had dwelled for ages in the House of Celestial, a realm that once gave him purpose. His late elder brother, Herlad, was the one to carry out his deed. A peace treaty between the Celestial and the Jyester that aligned two factions of Primordial bloods— the Blueblood and the now extinct Redblood— one that almost cost the Jyester's bloodline.
He was the third eldest among the seven of Orbsire Jyester, a late legendary warlord of the Redblood Primordial, of whom now only four remained in the Jyester bloodline.
Harber Jyester— the fourth son.
Urad Jyester— the fifth son.
And the youngest of the seven, Ianred Jyester.
***
He sighed again while glancing at the bright window hall where the light stood its rays. A vision of freedom, and yet felt like a cage for carrying burdens of not his own.
Unlike his normal days, he wore his brown hair low and messy, the hair that was the same colour as his eyes.
Today, Aldrich was seen as untidy.
And not long after, Harber found him out— sulking and naked.
"Aren't you supposed to get ready?" Harber asked directly.
His eyes narrowed. "Care to explain your... indecent look?"
Aldrich turned.
He did not say anything; his weary eyes explained the whole thing. Harber leaned on a white pillar, arms crossed— waiting for another boring response.
Harber sighed, "You need to make a decision, Al."
He then walked towards Aldrich, towering over him in the outer hall.
"We... don't belong here," he whispered.
"You said that... for an infinite time," Aldrich finally spoke, and he looked away again.
But Harber kept his determination. "Because you never say anything."
Aldrich snapped lightly, "Because you don't find yourself a purpose."
"Yet, your own purpose doesn't serve you," Harber snapped harder. Harber tore his cloak and handed it to him, "Do you mind?"
He took it for good sake.
Harber crossed his arms again, a very gesture when he had a serious thing to tell.
"You've drawn this path too deep, the path that isn't even ours. Three of us have spoken, leaving you alone to decide. Urad and Ian are leaving, with me," said Harber, telling of his plan with the others.
"You always threatened me with that," he said flatly, his gaze drifting to the panoramic window.
"This time, I'm making it real." Harber did not flinch; he proceeded. "Herald's deed isn't yours to take."
He turned, facing the same outside view of starlight sky. "The treaty... was never a legacy; it is a punishment. Staying longer means harder punishment."
Both were caught up in the same point again, which this time, Harber made his.
Herald had once walked them with the certainty of a king in his own castle, and Aldrich's footsteps echoed quieter. Harber did give him a deliberate reminder that the Jyesters' seat at the high table was not a birthright, but a loan. The treaty still stood, inked since the First Angels' War three millennia ago —but treaties slowly turned to chains.
Harber continued, he was more patient this time, "What are we? A warlord? A guest? An ally? All those things, but never a family."
Aldrich stumbled. Biting his lips.
His mother's bedtime tales echoed in his head from crumbling memories: a lifesaver who rode the whale's song from star to star, every scar another story.
He did not say anything.
Only a realization of his acknowledgment— that he had chased a legend until the legend chased him back.
Harber gave him an ultimatum, "You have the time after the Heavenly Summit."
Aldrich sighed. "If I leave, the balance tips."
"It tipped the day Father ascended," Harber said. "Staying won't mend it."
"Where are they even?" asked Aldrich, addressing the other siblings.
He answered briefly, terminating the conversation.
"The Avius."
Harber left.
In the shadowless plane, Aldrich contemplated. His gaze stirred around the shiny hall of Paragon, a borrowed chamber. He did think of what Harber said to him, only not seriously.
And not long after, somewhere behind, the fortress bell tolled—the call from the sovereigns to summon every member in the Celestial House.
Golden rays beamed into every chamber. A heavenly call that beckoned to his duty, one thing that drove Aldrich to step inside the Paragon again.
A great mission to discuss in the mortal world.
The Heavenly Summit awaited.
***
Celestial port
The front gate of the House lay long-nested Celestial ships, and one of them was theirs— The Avius— which was about to rise in the awaited moment.
It was where Harber sent himself afterwards.
He noticed the call from the Celestial sovereigns, but he insisted on a quick measurement. Harber reached the Avius, their stellar warship —he came for the others, Urad and Ianred, who had been preparing the ship.
Urad soon greeted him, addressing their brother's state— Aldrich. "How's he doing?"
"Worse," answered Harber definitively.
"He showed up naked like an unwanted soul," he added.
Urad turned with a knowing face, "He's not coming then."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not," Harber implied.
His head nodded to the warship, "How prepared are we?"
Urad raised a brow, "This beast couldn't wait any longer for the gravity."
"Home," he added.
And then, four red tendrils swung from above deck, revealing Ianred as he hopped down with a spirited answer, "Right away and just in time."
"Good," Harber commented.
Ianred smirked, "Say when."
Harber turned to them, arms crossed again.
"After the Summit."
As told, the three of them had finally shared a mutual decision. Harber, along with his two siblings who had been a handful while supporting his new plan.
Urad, the fifth son, his power had helped prepare the Avius. And Ianred was the one to pick the weaponry.
In a deeper sense, the Jyester family had always been dynamic, as much as the powers they wielded. The only one thing in common to what they had, as they had different figures of a mother.
***
As the golden bell rang, Aldrich fastened his armour again— golden material wings on his back complemented his look. He whispered, "Let there be light."
He stared at the mirror. A reflection of a proud face as if he had gained nobility. Shiny, neat hair. He fastened his golden gauntlets.
The sign recalled once more.
Aldrich walked out.
His eyes, his face sharpened, golden rays and beams veiling his body.
From the Paragon, he walked out by himself. Steady footsteps. Determined. He was aiming at the crystal door— the threshold was somehow waiting for his arrival.
The moment his boots touched the gem, the Ring of Light flared— brighter, sharper, recognizing his new title in the House.
The Lord of the Light.
The crystal beneath them pulsed once more—this time like a heartbeat. The three attendees bowed for him.
Every one of them, except his brothers.
But yet, Aldrich felt the approval. He sensed a new purpose and claimed it. The Heavenly Summit had been waiting for him, and it would not begin for him.
***
The Summit at the Ring of Light
"Why do we hide the truth — the reality of our own making? Why do we hide it?"
Finesse of the Celestial, Manifestation incarnate, let the question roll through the Ring of Light. The vaulted hall of flawless white stone, free of shadow, fell silent beneath his measured steps.
His gaze moved slowly over the tiers of Primordials and Warlords in the Celestial House.
The Ring of Light.
The heart of the Celestial House shone from five radiant corridors meeting in the sanctuary: the Sun-fire, the Reaping-heart, the Dream-mist, the Maiden-spring, and the Paragon. Each was a kingdom unto itself. Bound by the oath that stitched eternity together.
Break that oath, and creation would fracture — as every Primordial remembered it once had.
Finesse halted at the dais. "We lost the Moon Lady because we buried hard truths. And today, I will bury nothing."
He turned toward the flood of light spilling from the archway, voice lifting.
"After the Great Descension, when our divine home was founded, we shared common faith and common destiny. Tell me, dear Celestials — shall we forget our great destiny?"
He walked a slow circle, each step sharpening the air.
"What inspires us to bury the past, if the past alone tells the truth? We bury it because we cannot accept it. And if we cannot accept it, how shall we be forgiven?"
He stopped before Aldrich.
The young Lord's armour still carried the scent of forge-fire.
"The Lord of the Light — what is history to you?"
"A story, Finesse," Aldrich replied.
"Hm. I do not disagree." Finesse rubbed his shiny hair, his hands united. "But a story can be particular. Tell me, then — what does a story make, once it is told?"
"It inspires." Aldrich's soon echoed the entire hall. "Inspiration is told, for men may believe."
A faint smile touched Aldrich's face.
A ripple of approval moved through the chamber — though Harber, arms folded, only scowled, and Urad and Ianred exchanged guarded looks.
"Excellence," Finesse said. "Then we understand our destiny: to make men believe."
He turned to the high seat. "The Lord of the Sun, our great leader — would you disagree?"
"In all that matters, I do not," said Solares, crimson-gold robe glinting.
"I have no reason to find myself in the contrary, Finesse."
"Then we share the same vision, the same hope... the same destiny, my fellow Celestials."
Moments later, Sanasia the Maiden rose in a whisper of turquoise silk. "Must we bend so swiftly, Finesse? The Fates are cunning; sovereignty is fragile."
"The Dark Age has begun," Finesse answered. "Our great mission awaits us. Seven days. The time is ours."
"Until the writing is on the wall, I believe we shall accord," Solares emphasized.
Sanasia's gaze lingered. "Very well, then."
Aldrich spoke next, his tone steady. "We exist for one another — even the Void. To defy them invites war."
Sanasia's reply was sharp. "Aldrich Jyester, I speak of our losses — Selene, and your brothers Herald and Sal. I speak of your blood."
"We have all heard your concern," Solares said. "The Fates have foreseen the Dark Age. We cannot waste our only chance."
"The Fates did not warn of the Angels' War," Sanasia countered.
"Honor is action," Aldrich said. "We are ready."
"The Dark Age will not wait for us to mend; courage is the tribute the fallen crave," Finesse added.
"Would there be any other statement?" Solares rose, the close of the council in his voice.
The mission — the most anticipated in the Celestial House — would take place on the green world called Earth.
"Once the Fates declare, we shall not meet in discourse until it is done. I urge you all to understand this," Solares said.
Silence held the chamber.
Finesse bowed his head slightly.
"My fellow Primordials... and the Warlords. By the eras we have endured, I thank you for your counsel. Every death, every despair, shall remain only a reflection. Solares of the Sun, Sanasia of the Maiden, Warlords of Jyester — I ask you: must we be ready for the Dark Age?"
No voice answered.
At last, Solares descended from his throne to stand beside Finesse. Sunlight kissed his robe as his eyes swept the hall. When he looked at every attendee again, his eyes were locked at the empty third seat on the right side— Selene's seat.
***