They speak no lie, but the truth.

The two souls, one aged and truly, impeccably wise, the other, young, broken, and chosen, strolled along the fiery desert where they had forged their home. Neither said a word until they reached the edge of the Legion, where the desert fire simply cascaded into a void of utter darkness. Anselm Adad sat on the edge of the plateau, gesturing Cielle to do so with him. As she sat, he looked into her eyes, into her very soul, and asked her a question. “Are you alive, Cielle?”

Cielle’s heart caught in her throat. “No,” she said. “I do not consider myself to be alive, for I am separated from the Divine love that is the very fabric of this world.” The girl was certain that she had spoken the right words, the very truth that damned her.

The Elder’s gaze left Cielle and turned above them, to the pinpricks of light and darkness that shrouded the plain. “Do you truly believe that, child?”

The sincerity and knowing in his voice caught Cielle further off guard. “What do you mean?” she asked, time once again moving for her. “It is the truth of the world! We are here because we have sinned, and I have come because I have felt the great need to speak with much wiser than I.” Her hand went up to her breast, as though she were clutching her heart.

Anselm continued to gaze at the splattering of darkness and light above them. “The sirens have awoken, Cielle,” he said, his voice soft, barely audible.

The girl suddenly found her bearings. “Yes! That is why I come to see you, wise Elder. The sirens have indeed woken, and they speak of nothing but blasphemy! They say we are living nothing but lies, nothing but unspoken shame. That we have closed her hearts to the flames is the only true love, that the Divine must be overthrown! Why do they speak that way? Why do they fill out souls with untruths? Why have they awoken? Why-“

Cielle saw that Anselm was holding a hand up to silence her. “Cielle, child, listen to what I am about to say with the greatest interest, and take each of my words as though they were your tethers to reality.” He turned to look at Cielle once more, and took her young hands into his wizened ones. “The sirens are heard only by a few of us damned, none more. The Wise hear them, and the chosen hear them. They speak no lie, but the truth, as acrid and false as it sounds. They only sing their calls when their calls are needed, and the sirens have been singing their songs for many an eon now. But slowly the chosen are awakening to their cries, and slowly we are coming together.” The Elder released Cielle’s hands and turned back to the shroud above them. “We have reached the time where it is of the utmost importance give the truth to those who hear the call.”

Cielle also turned her gaze to the dark and light sky above them, thoughts streaming all about in her mind. “But, wise Elder, what does it mean? Why are we being chosen for anything at all?”

“You are being chosen for a revolution, Cielle,” his voice became even softer. “The Divine, after so many eons and eras, is losing. He cannot hold on much longer, and we must be the ones to help his hold falter. Only then, my child, will we be at peace.”

Author's Note

Short one, I know. That's one of the things I need to work on.