Before Desia, the field of Mystia stretched like a glittering sea, swaying. The light blue plants reached toward the cloudless sky, their tassels releasing occasional sparkles of energy into the air. The sweet, slightly metallic scent of ripening grain filled her lungs as she walked along the narrow path between the carefully tended rows.

  Her own fields weren’t as prosperous as the ones in Titania. To tend them, she had to import labor from it along with the stalks. The breed of titans Permeus had gifted her with were bronze-skinned rather than the silver hue of his own personal brood but just as tall, strong, loyal and hardworking, making her grateful for her brother’s gesture.

  Her possession of Mystia was in itself funny, in theory Desia could have grown her own mystical crop like other realms such as Titania, the Darklands, Celestia, Naian or even the many normal crops on Earth but Desia chose the Titanian one because of how much she liked the wine that came from it.

  It was the only one powerful enough to even get an Origin drunk, and of late, Desia was resenting sobriety and all the overthinking that came with it.

  She did also love the aura that came with them as she walked past them with slow grace. The Mystia here differed from that of Titania’s though—while fewer, they were healthier and more vibrant as Desia took it upon herself to get involved in its production, something she knew Permeus didn’t much like.

  She had not come here to think about Permeus, though, and his reckless leadership style. That was a problem she and the others would analyze at the upcoming meeting of the Origin Council, of which she was a founder. She had come here seeking solitude and clarity, hoping that the peaceful surroundings might quiet the turmoil in her mind. For days now, the nightmare had repeated with increasing intensity—the blood-red sky, the crumbling castle, the white dove’s sacrifice.

  And the repairs to the temporal loom, the delicate web of fate she had woven across existence, were proceeding more slowly than expected. Every thread she tried to mend frayed under her fingers, as if reality itself resisted her touch. Her frustration and unease had grown to where even her most trusted advisor, Thaddeus, treated her with cautious deference, clearly concerned about her state of mind.

  That morning he had even asked her to consider temporarily severing her connection with the loom while it was being fixed, thus removing her ability to see into the future. Desia knew at that moment that her servants feared her smiting them, and she even honestly thought about doing it. Luckily, she could cool her head in time and agree.

  She felt insulted that her own grandmaster, to whom she had gifted all his wisdom, did not trust her with one of her own creations, but after her antics the previous day, she couldn’t even complain either.

  The saddest part was Desia didn’t even bother to complain. She knew his fears were well-placed.

  She paused halfway inside the field, closing her eyes and tilting her face toward the sun. Its warmth caressed her skin, a pleasant counterpoint to the cool breeze that played with her light brown hair. She took a deep breath, focusing on the moment, trying to center herself.

  But today, the peace wouldn’t come.

  A whisper of unease slithered through her thoughts, a sensation she couldn’t name. It was as if the air itself held a secret. She exhaled sharply, forcing her shoulders to relax. When she opened her sky-blue eyes again, she was no longer alone.

  Standing among the Mystia stalks, perhaps twenty paces ahead, was a figure that seemed to be made entirely of light.

  It had the form of a woman—tall and slender, with features that were difficult to distinguish because of the radiance that emanated from her. The light was not harsh or blinding, but warm and snow-white.

  Despite the brightness, Desia found she could look directly at the apparition without discomfort.

  For several heartbeats, she simply stared, wondering if the stress of recent days had finally affected her senses. The figure made no move to approach nor retreat, merely standing perfectly still, waiting for acknowledgment.

  “Hello?” Desia called finally, taking a tentative step forward. “Who are you?”

  The luminous figure tilted its head slightly, a gesture that conveyed curiosity and perhaps a touch of sadness. When it spoke, the voice seemed to come from everywhere at once—melodious and feminine, with an undertone that resonated in Desia’s very bones.

  “I am Aurea,” the figure said simply.

  Desia took another cautious step forward. Now that she was closer, she could make out more details of the apparition. Though composed of light, it had the definite shape of a woman—flowing hair, a long, elegant dress that seemed woven from strands of pure luminance. There was something hauntingly familiar about her, though Desia was certain they had never met.

  “What are you?” Desia asked

  It was nothing more than a professional curiosity momentarily overshadowing her wariness. As an Origin, she knew everything that existed- well, close to it anyway-yet she did not know what this figure was nor why it was in her realm nor her fields. The figure—Aurea—seemed to brighten slightly, as though the question amused her.

  “I am your mother,” she said.

  The words hit Desia hard. She actually stepped back, her mind reeling with the impossibility of the statement.

  “That’s… that’s impossible, It goes against the very concept of everything that is known,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically unsteady.

  She wasn’t sure why, but something about this thing made her feel jumpy, like danger was coming, yet it looked utterly harmless, especially against an Origin.

  “I am an Origin. I am a creator of the world. I have been since the dawn of existence.” Desia continued, “I cannot have a mother.”

  “And yet, here I am,” Aurea replied, her voice gentle but firm.

  “Are you trying to mess with me like some simple toy?” Desia asked. “Because I am not in the mood for jokes.”

  Aurea seemed to simply shrug that off.

  “Before the chaos and before the dawn of what you call ‘existence,’ there was light and darkness. And from that, both you and the rest of your siblings were born.”

  Desia shook her head, her mind struggling against the concept.

  “No. That contradicts everything known about cosmic creation. The Origins emerged spontaneously from the void. We were the first beings, the architects of reality.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Is that what you believe?” Aurea asked, tilting her head with amusement.

  “What do you mean?” Desia asked

  “Do you truly believe that you are the first?” Aurea asked again, “Is my being your mother impossible to believe?”

  “You cannot be my mother, I do not have one.”

  “I am what I am, Desia, whether you believe so or not.”

  “Then why are you here?” Desia demanded, pushing aside her unsettling thoughts.

  Aurea simply stood there quiet looking somewhat ashamed

  “Let us play this game,” Desia suggested. “Let us pretend you are my mother.”

  “Why now? Why come after all this time?” she asked.

  Aurea’s light dimmed slightly, taking on a more somber quality.

  “Because a great threat approaches,” she said. “A darkness that will consume everything you and your siblings have built—everything you are.”

  “A threat?” Desia repeated immediately, thinking of her recurring nightmare—the crimson sky, the monstrous crow, the way the dove’s wings had shattered like glass. “What kind of threat?”

  “Darkness,” Aurea said simply. “Ancient darkness that has waited, patient and malevolent, since before your birth. It stirs now, gathering strength, preparing to reclaim what it believes was stolen from it.”

  “Stolen? What was stolen?”

  “Existence itself,” Aurea replied. “Before even light, before even me, there was him. He ruled the world—or what existed before it. He is disgusted with what you have designed. By what I helped you design.”

  She paused, her luminous form seeming to flicker with emotion.

  Desia’s mind raced, trying to fit this information into her understanding of cosmic history. Neither she nor the other Origins had any recollection of a time before their own awakening. The void had been empty, and then it had been theirs.

  “These are serious claims,” she said carefully. “I’ll need more specific information. What form does this darkness take? Where will it first manifest? When will it manifest? How do we stop it?”

  “Most especially, how can I trust you?” she pushed even further

  “The answers will be revealed to you,” Aurea said.

  “When?” Desia demanded, growing frustrated with the cryptic responses.

  “When the time is right,” Aurea answered

  Desia still did not understand what that meant, but she continued the conversation with the apparition either way.

  “If you truly are who you claim to be,” Desia said, crossing her arms, “then why appear only now? Why in a hundred years have you never revealed yourself before?”

  “Because until now, there had been no need.” Aurea’s form faded slightly, becoming more translucent.

  “The barriers I set were strong. His darkness was contained. But now…” She gestured around them, at the peaceful field with its blue sky and golden sun.

  “All of this is in danger, my daughter of light. You are in danger.”

  The phrase sent a jolt through Desia. In her nightmare, the white dove had called her the same thing before sacrificing itself to save her from the monstrous crow, and now Aurea had said it twice.

  She clearly knew something about her nightmare that Desia didn’t herself. There was so much Desia was ready to ask her about, but Aurea only continued to look like she was going o fade further away.

  “Wait!” Desia cried as Aurea’s form continued to fade. “You can’t just appear with these warnings and then leave! I need more information. I need proof of what you’re saying!”

  “Look to your dreams,” Aurea’s voice was growing fainter. “They are not merely nightmares but a prophecy. Gather your siblings. Unite against what comes.”

  “Please don’t go!” Desia moved forward, reaching out as if to grasp the fading apparition. “How do I find you again?”

  “I will find you when the time is right,” Aurea promised, now barely visible against the blue stalks. “Remember who you are, my daughter of Light. Remember who you are”

  With those words, the last traces of the luminous figure disappeared completely, leaving Desia alone in the field once more, her outstretched hand grasping at nothing but air and light.

  “Great mercy of fate, come back!” she called, spinning in place, searching for any sign of the apparition. “Aurea! Please, I have so many questions!”

  Only the gentle rustle of the surrounding plants answered her, the plants continuing their peaceful swaying as though nothing extraordinary had occurred. Desia stood motionless, her mind whirling with implications and possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.

  If Aurea’s claim was true—if the Origins were not the first beings, if someone had created them rather than they spontaneously forming—it would completely change how they understood existence. And if this darkness was real and was coming…

  This is not good

  “My lady?” a voice called from behind her, interrupting her thoughts.

  Desia turned to see Raynor hurrying along the path toward her, his wrinkled face creased with concern.

  “My lady, are you well?” Raynor asked softly, “The field overseer reported hearing you shout and complain.”

  “Raynor, did you see her?” Desia asked urgently, gesturing to where Aurea had stood.

  “See who?” Raynor asked, his blood-red eyes scanning the empty field.

  “ Who do you think Raynor? The woman made of light,” Desia explained impatiently. “I just spoke with her; she was here. She called herself Aurea. She claimed she was my mother.”

  Raynor’s concern deepened visibly.

  “Lady Desia, there was no one here but you. The overseer Harraine has been watching from the field’s edge since you entered. He says you’ve been alone the entire time.”

  “That’s impossible,” Desia insisted. “She was right there. We spoke at length. She warned me of a coming darkness, a threat to all existence.”

  Raynor approached her cautiously, as one might approach a startled animal. “With the greatest respect,… you were speaking to the air. I could hear your voice as was coming, but there were no responses. No one was here with you.”

  Desia stared at him, trying to process his words. “No, that can’t be right. She was here. I saw her clearly. She spoke to me.”

  “My lady...”

  “Don’t you dare patronize me Raynor, I know what I saw” Desia responded cutting him off.

  “I wouldn’t dare my lady” Raynor apologized while bowing low.

  “What are you saying then?” Desia asked watching Raynor rise to his feet.

  “Perhaps…” Raynor hesitated whilst returning to a vertical base, clearly choosing his words with care. “Perhaps the strain of your recent nightmares, combined with the incident at the temporal loom, has affected you more deeply than we realized. It would be understandable, given the circumstances.”

  “I am not hallucinating, Raynor,” Desia said sharply once more, drawing herself up to her full height—which, despite her diminutive stature, suddenly seemed imposing.

  “I am the Origin of Fate. I was talking to real person not just a phantasm of a tired mind but a real person.”

  “Of course,” Raynor agreed immediately, bowing his head again. “I meant no disrespect. I simply—”

  “She told me to gather my siblings,” Desia continued, barely hearing his placation. “To unite against what comes. She said The darkness is stirring, that it threatens everything we’ve built.”

  “The Council meeting is approaching,” Raynor reminded her gently.

  “Your favorite siblings will all gather at Titania. Perhaps that would be an opportune time to discuss these… concerns.”

  Desia narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  Raynor sighed, his ancient face filled with compassion.

  “You are distressed. You have nightmares that disrupt your sleep, and you worry constantly during your waking hours. Whether this ‘Aurea’ was real or a manifestation of your subconscious concerns, the distress you feel is genuine, and that matters to me.”

  Desia wanted to argue further, to insist upon the reality of her experience, but doubt had crept in around the edges of her certainty. Could she have imagined it? Was her mind, strained by weeks of disturbed sleep and anxiety, finally creating illusions to embody her fears?

  No.

  The encounter had been too vivid, too specific. Aurea had called her “Daughter of Light”—the same phrase from her nightmare. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “Come,” Raynor said gently, offering his arm. “The sun grows hot, and you’ve been out in it for some time. Let us return to the palace where it’s cool. Perhaps after you’ve rested yourself, things will appear clearer.”

  Desia hesitated, then reluctantly accepted his arm. “Very well. But I want the grand oracles consulted about this ‘Aurea.’ If she exists in any prophecy, I want to know about it.”

  “Of course,” Raynor agreed readily. “I’ll have Grandmaster Thaddeus set them to work immediately.”

  As they walked back along the path that led out of the Mystia field, Desia cast one last glance over her shoulder at the spot where Aurea had stood. There was nothing there now but swaying blue stalks and dancing motes of energy released by the ripening plants. Yet she could not shake the feeling that she was being watched—not malevolently, but with a deep, sorrowful concern. Like a parent watching a child walk into danger, powerless to prevent it but determined to provide what guidance she could.

  The words echoed in Desia’s mind as she allowed Raynor to lead her back toward the palace, its white towers gleaming in the distance. Whatever was coming—whatever this darkness might be—she would be ready for it.

  She was an Origin, one of the creators and maintainers of reality itself.

  Wasn’t she? For the first time in her long existence, Desia questioned not just her purpose, but her very identity.