The Tears of Time

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Ella’s body slept, her eyelids fluttering as she saw things underneath them. Her hands twitched into fists, trying to ward off invisible enemies unsuccessfully. The hard ground under her back increased the uneasiness in her mind, whilst above her the stars teased for space in competition with the crescent moon, each fighting to shine brighter in their own patch. A single meteor swept across the black. Fire trailed behind it, leaving a scar against the black and temporarily blinding those who watched it. One such person took the meteor as a good sign, and smiled genially at his companion.

“Anna, I think we might have ourselves a sign.”

“Can we win?” She whispered, her dark eyes staring into his.

“How can we not win?” He smirked and looked back up at the sky, still reeling from the meteor’s blaze. If he had had a heart he would have laughed. Looking back at Anna, his throat closed with anger. She had to be dispensed. The careless hussy had let Elanor slip through her fingers once that very day, and that was once too many. Dr Patterson would wait until later... He drew Anna closer to his chest, stroking her glossy black hair with one cold hand.

“Lucifer?” She whispered, leaning greedily closer. He shushed her, his jaw clenching silently as he closed his hands round her fragile skull.

“Goodbye Anna,” he whispered in her ear, suddenly putting pressure on his hands, twisting her neck with unnatural force. It snapped with a resounding crack. God, he loved that sound. Hah! Who was he to use such a term as 'God'? He smiled briefly back up at the dark sky and then stepped off the rooftop into the night air.

Back under the camouflage of park shrubbery, Elanor’s dreams became suddenly more real and dark. The imaginary foes flew away from these new images, which moved far more stealthily. This is what she dreamed:

Streets spread to each point of the compass, smells of the market mixing with the sewage river that flowed down the open channels in the centre of the streets. Spice and roasting meat clawed pungently at the nostrils, and the clatter of noise from animals and people overpowered hearing.

At the centre of the square rises the fabled temple of the Oracle, its white pillars stretching upwards towards Olympus. The light scent of incense drifted through the floating red curtains, enticing the senses to come closer. Elanor felt herself drawn inwards, through the curtains and past the pool of clear blue water reflecting the open sky from above. Past the pool and through into the antechamber that rested behind.

A terrible scream echoed through the market, scattering the doves that pecked at the roast offerings outside. The people stopped, turning towards the temple, where the commotion came from. Above them, the sun became dark, leaving a golden ring around the moon which stood in front of it. The people stared and pointed, their superstitions kicking in. Within minutes the market square was deserted, the doves long flown.

Back inside, the creator of the scream writhed in agony. Elanor gazed fearfully at the woman, whose eyes were clouded milky white and staring directly at her. Her brown hair was flung back from her face, ratted in long tails and sweaty from the fit. There were several people present, but none tried to help her in her obvious distress. To the side a student, not yet a man, wrote rapidly, his wooden pencil squeaking on the wax tablet.

All present were male, in white togas of high rank made in the modern style, each with a cloak of rich fabric dyed in bright colours. 3 of the men were elders, their hair white with age and wisdom, their faces set deep with wrinkles. One of them was younger, his hair still a dark brown of youth, his face smooth but for the cuts of a razor. But his eyes were sharp and dark, greedy for power and wealth. Every eye lay fixed on the oracle, their attention directed to the words that tumbled endlessly from her mouth.

Elanor watched too, but was scared by the woman’s distress and wished there was something she could do. She reached out to stroke her fevered forehead, hoping the cool of her hand would be enough. The contact shocked through her like static and suddenly she Saw.

The sky grew dark, the moon blood red as the earth closed off the sun’s light. The stars appeared to fall from the heavens, and a shower of flaming meteorites hit the cities with a wave of destruction, ringing out with a force that rippled the ground. Away from the fires that swept civilisation, cold stretched out its icy fingers. The temperature dropped quickly, sheens of ice trapping the living plants under translucent cover. Elanor’s ears rang with an unnatural voice, which spoke to her in the howling winds that swept the plains.

With a snap she reeled back from the woman’s mind, her heart beating a thousand times faster than before. Around her the men were shocked by the last sentence she had uttered, each avoiding the others eyes. Behind her the woman collapsed into a trembling heap. Elanor caught a look at the wax tablet before the student shut it quietly.

Listen to what I speak,
For the words of the gods fall from my tongue.
For in the future one thing is clear,
And of this I shall foretell;
The whole unbounded world of men,
To be destroyed in monstrous chaos.
A fearful cry you’ll raise in denial
But there shall be no fate other than this.

The air shall be disordered, and from the heavens
The fury of the almighty gods will spill forth.
Emperors, counsellors, princes, paupers,
Fierce sinners, in nothing true, uttering foul words;
None shall escape the judgment day.

First shall come the floods,
Plants shall, root and branch, in one night disappear,
And cities, men and all, shall the Earth-shaker scatter and destroy.
Then the winds shall come, and the second destruction will begin.
The waters blown away will be replaced,
With fierce cold that shatters men’s bones.
Then third the cold shall scatter in flames,
Bursting forth from the Earth’s core
To melt away every trace of man.

And to warn you of the forthcoming,
The gods will send signs of evil rife.
The moon shall die a bloody death,
When Time cries tears of blood,
Stars will fall to crash and burn.
Children born with unnatural disfigurement,
Triple headed and without heart.
The animals will smell out the coming death and run.

Hear my warning and repent,
For fire and ice shall all consume,
Ending every heart and stopping every pulse
To end the world in dark.

Elanor left the temple at the sight of the tablet, her feet gaining wings and flying her into the darkened sky, still with a shaded sun. Then her vision became swamped with mist and cloud, and her wings were stripped in a fatal blow that left her to falling towards a burning earth.

* * *

“Gabriel?” The seraphim’s brow twitched in anxiety.

“Time has sent her message, and the end times are indeed upon us,” Gabriel stated to the counsel, watching as their faces darkened. None of them wanted to hear this. They had long struggled to deny the signs and continue normally. But the omens were clear and the Sibyl had warned against denial. Mutters echoed around the counsel, from outright defiance to fear and pain.

“Quiet! The signs are clear, there is no use denying them. I saw Time begin to cry myself, and her tears were blood.”

“When Time cries tears of blood, stars will fall to crash and burn,” whispered a tall male figure to Gabriel’s right. His eyes showed a deeper understanding than most of those present.

“Thank you Raphael. You are quite right, and the other predictions have also been seen. Children and animals with more than one head, fish without hearts. Finally there is a lunar eclipse due on the 5th of December. A few months.”

The ripples continued to travel round the room, some of the counsel just shaking their heads, others now resigning themselves to the fact.

“Then we must seek out the last Sibylla,” stated Typhus, getting to his feet.

“It is the first course of action,” Gabriel replied, “We are already consulting with our seekers, but they claim that they cannot see her.”

“Then we must ask Time,” Typhus responded.

“No!” Raphael and several others also stood.

“She cannot be trusted,” continued Izra’el, the eldest of those who had stood.

“She is neutral, and surely we can understand that,” Raphael agreed.

“But she would be able to tell us,” Typhus probed.

“Yes, but what she would tell us, Lucifer would also hear.”

“But he will ask anyway!” Typhus’s face grew red with anger.

“It is true Gabriel,” Raphael consented, sitting back down.

“It is,” Gabriel frowned, his brow knitting tightly in thought. “We must vote. All those in favor of consulting Time?”

“Aye!” Came the resounding cry.

“All those against?” no one spoke; “The ayes have it. I shall consult Time.”