Project Un: The Whisper of the Stars

“There are whispers in the stars; A prophecy of things unknown. For the observer, it is chance and circumstance, but to the believer… to the fanatic, it is truth.” - Captain’s log, R. Gunson, Paradigm Prime

Sebi, Daughter of Medai, Daughter of Shura, did not like the desert. Of all the many complaints one could have of the wasteland devoid of pleasantries, Sebi disliked only the solitude. Discomfort, hardship, and danger, these things are unavoidable, but solitude is not. If one is alone, they can find companionship in animals. One can find a strained kinship in the caring of plants if animals cannot be found. It is pathetic to some, but comforting to the one who is avoiding solitude. But there is no life in the desert of Sha-Dy. No beast, no plant, nor even an insect dares to make its presence known in a place like this. A true wasteland of shifting sand. Not even rocks to shelter from the ever changing landscape. 

The wind sent patterns in the sand like serpents forming runes. Nonsense to any learned Shu-Tal, Sebi thought. Only the fool would attempt to read the sands. A gust of wind pushed the cloth off her face. The desert itself laughed at her, for this was indeed her task. Sent by Shal Ey, Son of Terren, Voice of Heavens to read the words written by no hand. She adjusted the scarf around her neck, feeling the grains of hot sand trickle down her back. She grimaced. Those would leave burns. Yet there was nothing to do about it now. Sebi pulled a thin addition to the scarf over her eyes. The veil blocked the sand, allowing her to try and interpret what she was to learn. 

Sebi crouched low on the dune overlooking a shifting valley of particles. The moving sand had more of an appearance of an ocean rather than dry land. Sebi strained her focus on the patterns in the sand. Yet nothing made sense. Strains shifted this way and that like a weaver uncertain of what to make. With a grunt of frustration, Sebi turned away and drank from her water skin. Her supply of water was nearly as hot as the day itself, not to mention half gone. She had very little time left to stare at sand before she would have to be concerned about returning home. 

With the determination of a mother giving birth, she turned and faced the meaningless sand yet again. The sands wandered this way and that, but with a squinted eye they seemed to be moving in unison. Is there meaning in that? Sebi wondered. As she pondered, the strands of sand began to intertwine. Questionable at first, but yes, unmistakable now. Sebi felt heat rise to her face even in the burning rays of the white sun. Her skepticism was replaced by bashful shame at doubting Shal Ey. Perhaps the sands did speak. 

The strands separated in three segments as if lines on paper. An east wind blew, forming divisions of the segments. Then a south wind blew, brushing strokes upward like peaks of mountains. The east wind carved those peaks into separate shapes. Like shapes of a kaleidoscope made by a child attempting to replicate language, the things did not make sense. Sebi leaned forward, feeling heat rise at her fingertips as she pressed them into the dune. 

The shapes flickered with each gust of wind, and Sebi did not understand. Until at last, a pattern came to her. She saw a shape and it seemed to her that she had seen it before. Then again. It seemed as if the sand formed into a crudely shaped bird. Wings out and head tilted to its side, the bird kept its beak low. Then the wind came from the south and distorted the image to that of a rune. Like that of a snake with pointed turns, Sebi read in the sands the rune of Un. Her heart jumped and she felt the rush of battle come upon her. Un was a dangerous omen.

Sebi fought the urge to look away. But the shapes flickered more and more to the rune of Un. The sands spiraled like a tornado intertwining along the ground. Yet countless runes seemed to appear. All the same. Un. Un. Un. They aligned like a constellation. Sebi could feel her wisdom pleading to look away and leave this place, but her loyalty begged her to stay a moment longer. The sands shifted and the constellation formed that of a woman. Not simply any woman. The sand runes spoke of a mother ready for birth. The runes shifted and the mother lost her image and a thing appeared in her arms. This mother held a mountain in her arms. Sebi did not know what this meant, but seared the image in her memory so she could speak of it later. 

The runes shifted and became the image of a bird. The wings lost it’s feathers and the bird shifted into the image of a warrior. A man with a blade, but no head. The sands shifted and the man’s blade was in his neck. He had wings of a bird and above him formed his head. Slowly it came into being. But at last his head was indeed a skull. Then the sands shifted and became like serpents again. The sands slithered and became as they were before. Disturbed and uncertain, Sebi looked around her and found nothing. 

“I think,” she said to the desert. “It is time I deliver your message.”

***

Shal Ey sat half undressed by a campfire. He was not intending to be indecent, nor had he forgotten to fully dress himself. Shal Ey may have been unfathomably old, but he was not senile. No, only duty could call him to be as he was; bare chested and painted in tar. Cool air of the evening forced the tar patterns to cling tighter to his loose skin. He would be dead soon, if Sebi did not return. And that thought did not bother him. Shal Ey was old enough to have seen the last of the Unbirthed. Ancient and nearly lost to legend they were. Shal Ey, son of Terren, they called him. The Voice of Heavens, the last speaker to have seen the last Unbirthed. If he was to die, he would do so with honor. 

Yet the great Shal Ey did worry. He did not mind the thought of death nor of the loss he would be to the stories of the Shu-Tal. Shal Ey worried for the young mother he had sent to consult the sands. It had to be done, he thought. Un-written words to guide us. They had sent the warrior Kela, Son of Gaeth to the Springs of Whispers, yet he brought back nothing. They had sent the young mother Nara, daughter of Fai, to Starpoint, but she spoke of only cloudy skies. Young warrior Hirah, Son of Dak, found the Twisted Tree silent, and so they had sent young mother Sebi, Daughter of Medai to the Valley of Runes. If there was no word from the Desert, then perhaps Shal Ey’s tellings had failed. 

It was in but a dream, Shal Ey thought, A dream of an old man. At that thought, Shal Ey looked up from the twisting flames of the fire. Sebi stood before him, bowing as all did before the Voice of Heavens. 

“Voice of Heavens,” Sebi said. “Shal Ey, Son of Terren, I have returned.”

He gestured for her to sit. She did so.

“What has Sebi, Daughter of Medai, Daughter of Shura seen from the Valley of Runes?” he said. 

“I have seen words, Voice of Heavens,” Sebi said. Shal Ey perked up with an eagerness of one glad to be proven wrong.

“Unwritten words, spoken in images in sand,” She continued. “But I do not know what they mean.”

Sebi recounted all that she saw. He asked many questions while she spoke and then sat silent taking in the things she had seen. 

“Shal Ey, Son of Terren,” Sebi said. “What do these mean?”

Shal Ey smiled. It was a kind smile as he was accustomed to being asked to interpret. Sebi at once relaxed at his smile. She would have her answers.

“We will have visitors,” he said. “A mother unlike any mother we have met. She will be unexpected and dangerous. And to us, she will be the mother of metal”

Concern crossed the face of young mother Sebi. 

“This is what I mean,” Shal Ey said. “You saw a mother formed of runes. yes?”

Sebi nodded.

“Un. The rune of that which we do not know and do not understand,” Shal Ey said. “She will be strange to us. She held a mountain in her arms, yes? What do we take from mountains?”

“Metal?” Sebi guessed.

Shal Ey nodded. “She will be the mother of metal. What this means, I do not know. The whisper of the stars spoke of the mother of metal and now the sands say she will come.”

“How do you know this?” Sebi asked, before holding a hand to her mouth. 

“It is alright, Sebi, Daughter of Medai,” Shal Ey said. “You have questions. It is alright to question.”

Sebi relaxed again and so Shal Ey continued. “There was a rune you did not know. Ris. The crude bird you described. It is a rune spoken of in many ways, but most commonly to mean guest.”

A look of understanding passed over Sebi’s face.

“Yes, A guest will come and it will be this mother who gives birth to metal.” Shal Ey said. “She will not be alone, there was another you saw. A faceless warrior. Of this man I do not know his fate.”

Sebi frowned. “Is it not death that will come to him?”

“Perhaps,” Shal Ey said. “But the images in the runes you saw relate to two names within the whisper of the stars. There is the faceless knight who could be your headless warrior. And either he is a guest among death, a traveler among the dead or something else I do not know. Yet the image of neck slain warrior with wings could relate to the other name. The ever dying angel. Perhaps they are the same or perhaps not. I do not know.” 

Sebi shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes,” he said. “Even Shal Ey does not understand. But I will say this. The image of the mother was made of Un before and after birth. Perhaps many strange things will happen before she arrives or perhaps she is very strange to us. I do not know. There will also be a faceless knight, what significance is he I do not know. There will be death and a warrior who brings it. Will he bring death for others or for himself I do not know.”

Sebi was nearly shaking. Was it in fear, anticipation, or anger?

“What we do know is this. The whisper is coming. There will be many strange things. There will be a mother of metal, a faceless knight, and an ever dying angel. Who they are and what they do is uncertain, but they will come.” 

“And what are we to do?” Sebi said. Shal Ey smiled another kind smile.

“We do as the faithful have done before us,” Shal Ey said. “We wait.”