Against the Sky

7/31/2019 Against the Sky

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Against the Sky

By: Robert Moore

A Prologue

Eyes openMind blank

Traveler, I am Ethos, the land; the ground beneath your feet as you walk, the air that you

breathe. Long ago I was given my life and since then I have been watching and listening. I have

heard much and now it is time for you to hear my tale.

I, Ethos have four regions: the lush and green Northern meadows, the harshly cold Eastern

mountain peaks, the desolate wasteland desert located in the South, and the Western realm with

its deep-rooted volcanic tunnels and crags. Between the North and East lies a body of water I call

Lake Strife. The waters from this lake flow southwest to the center of Ethos. Thus my life giving

energies spread to the four realms. Three parallel suns orbit the land warming and balancing the

intense light of day with the stark hollow night, setting balance and order in our world.

Then, from the beastly volcano in the west; a shroud cloaking the world in darkness was

unleashed. Demons, the bitter antithesis of peace, have begun to sweep across the land

consuming all that lay before them like a pestilence that washes over the land. But the angels

have emerged to fight for the land to save it from this darkness. They are the givers as opposed to

the demonic takers. Now a war has erupted on Ethos between them, and the angelic forces of

light are fading. Hope is nearly lost.

The demons have already taken hold of the Western quadrant and are spreading their way

into the Southern region as we speak. The Wall of Prayers keeps the demons from entering into


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the Northern and Eastern regions. This wall of billowing thick white cloud is the only thing

keeping the angels safe from the darkness. A demon may crawl in but it never will crawl out.

The wall formed long ago comprised of all the prayers of the faithful angels whom it protects. It

is the angels best and last line of defense.

Yet there is a weakness in their wall. At its center, over the running waters, the wall is much

thinner. Here is where the demons have mounted the whole of their teeming force, waiting

hungrily to grow their numbers before they crash on through.

For now, an angelic battalion has been mobilized to stand against the encroaching demons

and they remain vigilant. But these remaining angel warriors are so few in number now. If the

wall were to be breached somehow, they would not be able to keep back the quick flooding

darkness without great aid. And still, moment by moment, this unholy pestilence grows breeding

evil in secret. This conflict has ebbs along this precipice. This point of future blood and running

water marks our eternal struggle and mars to the core, my once peaceful and green Ethos.

Sometime Past or Future carved within Our Own Timeline

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It was under the most heavenly and unequaled eclipse that the boy was born under, very

promising to our force, but of a poverty stricken mother, the ancient angel whispered to himself

as his gray eyes stared up and across the unique sky. Each of the three suns before him had been

blotted out by the opaque bodies of several thick clouds. It was true the young one did have a


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heavenly connection, (perhaps one of disunity) but held by the bonds of his birth, he left the

great destinies, proud adventures, and amassed fortunes to those of proper class and pedigree.

The young angels given name is Allistar. He was born here in the eastern fortress of

Torrence, within the eastern quadrant of our land of Ethos, otherwise known as the Frozen

Mountains.

Physically, the babe had tremendously large wings protruding from the center of his

strong shoulder blades. Even as a child his wings were much greater than that of any full-grown

adults. His eyes were a penetrating glacier blue and stung those caught in his glare. His skin was

as pale as the cumulous clouds above. As he grew, he refused to have his hair cut back, giving

him long flowing, untamed locks of a gorgeous golden bronze, outlining his notably radiant face;

An impressive and spirited young angel indeed.

His schooling began with private, isolated instruction. His mother (and only known parent)

insisted upon that. She had heard of a rumored angel, seldom found in public but unequalled in

his intellect. She found and approached him one day, during one of his rare trips to the

market,(He had been pointed out to her) and in pleading for aid in educating her strong willed

son, she found a more than capable tutor. Upon meeting the boy and seeing his great aptitude and

incredible wingspan a gleam twinkled amidst the grays of his iris as he agreed to become the

childs sole educator, to tech him all he knows, to raise him. Living with the introspective hermit,

the young angel studied language, theory, politics, and philosophy.

Reaching young adulthood, it was time for him to begin his war training, which was

mandatory to all healthy males of his age. He must be destined for great adversity ahead, the


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elders spoke amongst themselves, but without a proper noble birth right or even a father, he can

never be more than a messenger. His peers, infused with jealousy for his strength and wingspan

(for everyone knew there was something special about him) could only attempt to jar him with

jeers and taunts. But as he shot through their ranks, with both strength and intelligence, he

claimed the peak of the class. By night he could be found alone atop the citys tallest hillside

improving his footwork, honing his skills, and developing his technique. The angel drove and

propelled himself throughout his training and when he had completed his training, he was given

the iron armor reserved for him at birth. Long ago this iron armor was saved away by an ancestor

of Allistars and long ago it would have been a prized and rare armament, but the time when iron

and strength were held most important are long passed, made obsolete by the silver and gold

armor bestowed to his peers of nobility. Perhaps tougher and more intimidating was the iron suit.

It consisted of three pieces, a shoulder-to-shoulder collar piece, a breastplate, and a back piece,

each equipped with protruding spikes. The dark armor served to create a terrifying warrior of the

beautiful angel. The armor was three times as heavy as the noble armors due to its uniquely thick

iron plating and the massive shoulder mounts connecting to the breast plate, but the great angel

carried the weight on his broad shoulders with ease. He was now fully versed in military tactics

as well as his tutelage from the hermit. Destiny alone waits for none but the chosen.

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Against the Sky