It came from afar. Whispering, like a knife thrust forward, from the darkness of the void. It passed first by the great twins, their great rings intersecting and dividing, again and again, in the great dance. It danced between the split sapphire halves of the Sundered Son, and was itself licked by the great ocean waves that leapt across the great gap like elk in the vale. It fell, like a fallen angel, through the skies of Vhanas IV. And it came to rest beneath the awesome gaze of four sister-suns, dancing forever in the flickering of an incandescent sky. It was a strange thing, certainly. It was unlike anything to ever exist on this world before. Where the castles of the world’s inhabitants were stone and wood, it was star-steel, smooth and round and shining with silver. It was hard yet flexible. It was harsh yet soft. A stranger, yet familiar. Almost like a friend.
The skies growled. The heavens dimmed and darkened. The mountain rains came and lightning bolts grew like trees. About the newcomer it all fell, glittering against the pale and whirring sheen of some advanced shield. Silently, the structure unfolded. It widened, two parts opening like wings, as if to guide whoever might come to the very center, where there ought to be a door. But if there was one, it remained shut, for there was no one to enter it. It remained that way for many long hours.
But there came a time when even this peculiar object must act. From somewhere, anywhere, there in the machine, a voice echoed. It was quiet but yet it was loud. A whisper yet a shout. A song and a speech. It was rigid as steel and as supple as a reed. And if any creature with a soul were to hear it, they would have felt their soul be touched as if it were the plucked strings of a harp. Its voice reverberated into the world like a ripple in a pond, summoning those who heard it to its side.
“With us. Come with us.”
“Come Home.”
Araizah was not a typical Coresii. He did not sing like they do. He did not dance the same. Where others were born during the rise, apex, and fall of one of the sister-suns, he was born during the brief expanse of night. The other Coresii swore by the breeze, by the lapping waves of grass, by all that the Suns touched. Araizah, though, swore by the stars, and by the distant night sky. He mapped their positions and named their constellations.
He was not shunned for this. He was not ignored. Star-gazers were rare amongst the Coresii. Though his mother and father named him for a distant relation, the elders of his clan called him Derii’las; it meant Star-Touched in their tongue. It was to him that the voice came, during one of the quick yet timeless interludes of night.
“Come with us.”
“Come? Come where? Whither do I go?”
“With us. Come.”
The voice tugged at his soul. He could feel it taking him, guiding him, pushing him out into the star-lit darkness. It was a rushing river, and he was but a raft.
“Very well. With you, I come.”
He set out upon his feet, and prayed to the stars.
“And where then shall we go?”
“With us. Come home.”
“Am I not already home?”
“With us. Home.”
“Though I fret and worry, I cannot ignore your voice. I am coming home.”
And he arose, and followed the voice out into the darkness of the night.
His departure did not go unnoticed, nor were his words unheard. The elders watched and warriors followed. Torches were lit and fires bloomed. And in the great cities of the Coresii, scholars noticed with great alarm that the night stretched on and onwards, and that the suns did not rise. Hour after hour, day after day. Who to call and who to ask and where to lay the blame? So questioned was the Star-Touched, as he walked his eternal path, and so the scholars and the elders came to know of the stranger’s voice at last. The Derii’xan they called it, Star-Voiced was its name. And they followed Araizah to the place from which it came.
They found it in the mountains, there at the heart of Cai’slan. Its doors opened for Araizah, and but he did not pass through. Instead, he asked a simple question.
“Why should I pass through?”
“To ascend,” was the answer.
“Ascend to what?”
“A great dance.”
“With whom?”
“With us.”
“And who is ‘us’?”
“Those who came before you.”
“From where?”
“Other worlds, amongst the stars.”
“You are a stranger. Unknown, and at this moment, unknowable. We are stone and wood, and you are of the stars themselves. Why us? Why now?”
“A stranger now, yes, but we will be familiar, soon. You are stone and wood, yes, but you will be of the stars as well, soon. And you are family. Are we all not children of the stars? Should we not reunite, in some way?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But now, at this moment, at this hour, at this very second, I will do what I should not and trust you. I will come, but only I, for I myself will judge the truth of your words and see to it that they are truly the benefit for my people as you say they are.”
The doors opened wider. And Araizah stepped inside. There was no person inside. No living creature, save the preserved skeleton of a creature that, in life, would have been of much smaller and frailer substance than the Coresii of Vhanas IV. Yet despite that, despite the absence of life, despite the strangeness of it all, it felt… familiar.
The craft shuddered. The doors closed. Araizah blinked, and suddenly, there were windows where there weren’t any before. He saw the ground disappear, saw the clouds, then the sky, then all the world beneath him. He saw the stars, in greater clarity than he had ever seen them before. The skies before him grew, then retracted, then shattered entirely, and he was gone, the joyful roar of unknown peoples echoing in his ears.
Beneath him, all who were left behind saw a great blazing trail ignite in the night sky, and it laid there for many days, even as the suns themselves returned.
Many long millennia afterwards…
They came from afar. Whispering, like a loving breeze, from the darkness of the void. They passed first by the Great Grand-father and his mighty rings, and then by old Grand-mother and her many moons. They danced through the heart of the three brothers, and touched the diving rings of gas and rock. They leapt past the enormous gaze of one Father Sun, his mighty arms and great locks of yellow hair crashing through time and space. And they came to rest before venerable Gelleis, with his blue tides and green hairs.
They were a strange thing, certainly, a grand fleet of glittering colors, made with star-steel and lined with rainbow-hues. Derii’nos, Sun-Singer in their tongue, gazed through a window on the leading vessel. She remembered the songs of old, and even now looked forward to bringing the inhabitants of the glittering blue planet before her into the grand embrace that spanned the stars themselves. They might now be strangers, yes, but soon they would be familiar, like a family, joined in the Great Dance that had started such a long time ago. She raised her arms, and like the machine-ship that had arrived at the Coresii homeworld so many long eons ago, spoke.
“With us. Come with us.”
“Come Home.”