The Tears of Time
Prologue
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In her circular window, Time stands, the blue-tinted glass throwing her own face back at her. Her existence is knowledge only to a select few; constant and yet strangely ever-changing.
She is the slim figure, enveloped in a trailing purple robe, buffeted by the swirling wind that comes from the void below the window, glass unable to shield her from it. Her eyes are black, iris invaded by pupil, a gaze that absorbs the light. The void is a paradox. Made of nothing and yet named, it longs for Time but it will not have her. Not yet.
Her gaze belongs to the Earth and in her vision she takes in not one time, but every moment that has ever, does and will exist. But now is different. Instead, she searches, searches for the one time she has avoided for eternity, but now must seek. And it is found.
2010, the 5th of September, the 6th hour, the 6th minute, the 6th second…
All goes dark.
Time turned, turns, will turn away slowly from the window. She has been allowed back from the moment which should have captured her, but not without a price. Her time has been limited now. She looked, looks, will look at the man standing behind her; his tall figure framed with an unnaturally large wingspan, which pours out light in an ethereal glow around him. Gabriel looks at Time from 2010, but Time looks at Gabriel from eternity.
“It came, is here, comes,” she whispered, whispers, will whisper. From eternity, tears of crimson begin to pour from her eyes. Gabriel stares wondrously, knowing the first sign when he sees it.
When Time cries blood the stars will fall…
He nods, having heard only the last option. He turns on the spot, disappearing with a flash of golden light. Out of the shadows in the corner of the room steps another man, his face cast into a deep gloom.
“You heard, hear, will hear, Lucifer,” Time said, says, will say. Lucifer nods, stepping back into the shadows, and disappearing. Time falls to her knees on the floor, in a strange mix of helplessness, fear and calm. A door opens behind her, a hand resting on her bare shoulder, where her robe has slipped.
Fate pulls Time to her feet, resting his forehead against hers. Time sighs, looking into his blind white eyes. Fate reaches out a hand, wiping the tears from Time’s face, tasting them. He flinches as the salty taste hits his tongue, the edge of metal full of apprehension.
“So it is time,” he whispers.
“It is time,” Time says back, now caught from eternity and latched into the present. Fate steps away, reaching out into the air, and plucking something from it. A leather-bound book falls into his hands, its cover a deep blue, its corners edged with gold. Time leans forward over it, staring at its cover, for the inscription that should be there. A tear falls from her cheek, landing on the cover with a splash. The blood seeps in, sweeping across the cover with a single stroke of red, leaving trails of an ancient text in sparkling gold.
Time steps back, as Fate opens the book. Thunder without sound rips through the room as it falls open to the middle page. As they have done an eternity of times before, they begin to chant. Fate’s deep bass mixes with Time’s soulful song, to soar through the air to a stilled Earth. And so begins the end of everything.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
In her circular window, Time stands, the blue-tinted glass throwing her own face back at her. Her existence is knowledge only to a select few; constant and yet strangely ever-changing.
She is the slim figure, enveloped in a trailing purple robe, buffeted by the swirling wind that comes from the void below the window, glass unable to shield her from it. Her eyes are black, iris invaded by pupil, a gaze that absorbs the light. The void is a paradox. Made of nothing and yet named, it longs for Time but it will not have her. Not yet.
Her gaze belongs to the Earth and in her vision she takes in not one time, but every moment that has ever, does and will exist. But now is different. Instead, she searches, searches for the one time she has avoided for eternity, but now must seek. And it is found.
2010, the 5th of September, the 6th hour, the 6th minute, the 6th second…
All goes dark.
Time turned, turns, will turn away slowly from the window. She has been allowed back from the moment which should have captured her, but not without a price. Her time has been limited now. She looked, looks, will look at the man standing behind her; his tall figure framed with an unnaturally large wingspan, which pours out light in an ethereal glow around him. Gabriel looks at Time from 2010, but Time looks at Gabriel from eternity.
“It came, is here, comes,” she whispered, whispers, will whisper. From eternity, tears of crimson begin to pour from her eyes. Gabriel stares wondrously, knowing the first sign when he sees it.
When Time cries blood the stars will fall…
He nods, having heard only the last option. He turns on the spot, disappearing with a flash of golden light. Out of the shadows in the corner of the room steps another man, his face cast into a deep gloom.
“You heard, hear, will hear, Lucifer,” Time said, says, will say. Lucifer nods, stepping back into the shadows, and disappearing. Time falls to her knees on the floor, in a strange mix of helplessness, fear and calm. A door opens behind her, a hand resting on her bare shoulder, where her robe has slipped.
Fate pulls Time to her feet, resting his forehead against hers. Time sighs, looking into his blind white eyes. Fate reaches out a hand, wiping the tears from Time’s face, tasting them. He flinches as the salty taste hits his tongue, the edge of metal full of apprehension.
“So it is time,” he whispers.
“It is time,” Time says back, now caught from eternity and latched into the present. Fate steps away, reaching out into the air, and plucking something from it. A leather-bound book falls into his hands, its cover a deep blue, its corners edged with gold. Time leans forward over it, staring at its cover, for the inscription that should be there. A tear falls from her cheek, landing on the cover with a splash. The blood seeps in, sweeping across the cover with a single stroke of red, leaving trails of an ancient text in sparkling gold.
Time steps back, as Fate opens the book. Thunder without sound rips through the room as it falls open to the middle page. As they have done an eternity of times before, they begin to chant. Fate’s deep bass mixes with Time’s soulful song, to soar through the air to a stilled Earth. And so begins the end of everything.
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