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4900 B.C.E.
For thousands of millennia, no Fae clan had established dominance over another. Border skirmishes had occurred over precious territory, but never had an incursion threatened even a single clan’s sovereignty. The sparring parties found themselves checked by other clans unwilling to allow any clan an advantage. The ancient Fae, immortal beings in existence for epochs, formed the core of each sovereignty. Masters of the elements, stoic and sober, the leaders grew complacent over time, satisfied with merely maintaining the status quo. After an age, and with the territorial borders stabilized, only one point of contention remained: what to do with humankind.
Unlike any species the Fae had previously encountered, the human race organized into civilizations, altering the land, constructing cities, and erecting monuments. Some Fae found the new species fascinating and somewhat similar to themselves. Others, however, grew repulsed by humankind’s disregard for the natural world. Dissention within the clans festered for centuries, leaving allies quarreling amongst themselves. Each clan governed its own comrades, some forbiding extermination of physical beings, others turning blind eyes to barbarous acts of torture and slaughter. Some clans preyed upon the superstitious nature of men, holding themselves out as deities and demanding that humans pay tribute to them through worship and sacrifice.
Against the counsel of most elders, some individual Fae sought to challenge the balance of power. Like a precursor of sorts to mankind’s pursuit of nuclear fission in the twentieth century, a few Fae sought to create the fabled fifth element, Aether. Aponi, an elder with the Ohanzee clan, had grown fond of humans and loathed the torment they endured at the hands of other Fae. She experimented with the elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, until she discovered the precise combination. Suddenly, everything changed.
When Aponi failed to persuade Tse-xo-be, the leader of the Ohanzee, to force the Ometeo, a neighboring clan, to end its practice of human sacrifice, she split from the Ohanzee and attacked the Ometeo by herself. Powerful but vulnerable in her solitary quest, Aponi was nearly destroyed by Tonitiuh, an Ometeo elder. It was a lesson she heeded well. Aponi sought out like-minded Fae. From the original clans the world over, she persuaded many of her kind to join her and amalgamated a new clan. They called themselves the Seelie—the Fae word for “seeking good” and “enlightened one.” Angered by Tse-xo-be’s rejection, and determined to cut ties to the Ohanzee permanently, Aponi adopted the name Ozara.
It was the first new clan in an epoch. As the Seelie grew in numbers, the original clans remained indifferent, unwilling to check Seelie’s expanding power. Over the next century, the Seelie clan quietly flourished. Throughout that time the new clan kept to shadows, never challenging the territorial boundaries of others. Numbering in the hundreds, the Seelie changed that in 4,500 B.C.E. when they converged on Gainjin, a small clan of Fae in Melanesia (present-day Papua New Guinea). The Gainjin who survived either joined the Seelie or went into seclusion.
Over the next decade, the original clans experienced numerous defections but took no action. The elders viewed self-determination as an essential component of existence. Taking advantage of the clans’ inaction, the Seelie clan expanded its sphere of influence. For decades, the five most powerful clans—the Ohanzee, the Olympians, the Sidhe, the Ancient Ones, and the Jinn—avoided a confrontation with the Seelie. Their apathy set in motion a shift in power that forever altered the role of the Fae in the physical world.
The Weald: 4200 BCE
The Ohanzee elders gathered near the portal, the Seoladán, awaiting the return of their leader, Tse-xo-be, and news from the clan parlay in Salastrau (near present-day Fontainebleau, France). Wakinyan stood silently, ignoring the cold wind that blew strands of his long black hair across the sculpted features of his face. Patiently watchful, never moving or blinking, he listened intently to the river below as it slowly etched patterns into the limestone bluffs that lined the valley.
“You are concerned?” Sinopa asked.
Wakinyan’s face remained stoic. “Of course. You?”
Sinopa lowered her brown eyes and nodded. “I have memorized the sounds and smells of the Weald myself.”
With a faint nod, Wakinyan acknowledged what all the Ohanzee feared: the possibility that one of their own might one day force them out of the Weald. An eroded plateau in the center of Talemn Álainn, and the location of the sole Seoladán on the continent, the Weald had served as the center of the Ohanzee territory for millions of years. Losing it had always seemed unfathomable.
“Perhaps not all is lost,” Sinopa said. “It is possible the Sidhe will join us.”
Wakinyan tightly pressed the lids closed over his light brown eyes, grimacing. “It behooves them to aid us, but I fear Danu will not involve the Sidhe. They fear Ozara. As do the Ancient Ones and the Jinn. Only the Olympians seem to recognize the threat, but they seek only to preserve their perverse relationship with humankind.” Wakinyan slowly opened his eyes and turned Sinopa. “We should have acted sooner. Destroyed Ozara when we could. Our passivity, I fear, will cost us the very thing we value the most.”
Paytah took physical form first, having passed through the Seoladán ahead of Tse-xo-be. Paytah’s face, normally devoid of emotion, provided the seven waiting Ohanzee elders with the answer they feared. Tears welled in his immortal eyes. Overcome with emotion and unable to speak, he spun, transformed into a tawny colored panther, and disappeared into the woods.
Tse-xo-be, appearing as stoic as always, assumed human form. He stood silently in the clearing atop the hill. Wakinyan’s square jaw dropped to his chest and his arms went slack. It was done: the Sidhe would not help.
“What of the Ancient Ones? The Olympians?” Sinopa asked.
Tse-xo-be shook his head.
Another elder, Nodin, asked, “Do we fight?”
Tse-xo-be shook his head again. “We are three hundred. They are three thousand. We will not prevail.”
“Do you believe Aponi would actually destroy us?” Nodin asked
“Aponi is dead to us,” Wakinyan said, shifting his gaze to Nodin. “Ozara will destroy us. You already know it to be true.”
“What are we to do?” Sinopa asked.
“Zeus offered us sanctuary,” Tse-xo-be said, “and Wakinyan and I a place on the Olympian Council. I believe the offer to be in good faith, but I suspect our acceptance will only bring Ozara’s wrath to their clan.”
“Attack the Olympians? Surely the other clans will stand against the Seelie if they invade the continent,” Sinopa said, a deep furrow forming above the bridge of her nose.
“No, I do not believe they would. Anuket, Asharyu, Guanlin, Sherman, and Victoria have joined the Seelie Council,” Tse-xo-be said, allowing the Ohanzee elders a moment to ponder what those five names meant. The Seelie Council, numbering twenty ancients and an Aetherfae, had become the most formidable alliance in history. “The Seelie have exploited our nature: the clans’ distrust of one another and our singular desire to remain isolated and independent. While we lingered, observing the status quo, they changed the rules.”
Sinopa turned and stared into the distance, her dark eyes fixed on some infinite point above the flat-topped hills of the Weald. “They move against us now? How long?”
“In my existence, I have never before said this: we have no time.”
Sinopa turned back to Tse-xo-be, catching a glimpse of the resignation on his face. “Then what is our plan?”
“It is my desire to keep our clan intact,” Tse-xo-be said. “Be it a century or an epoch, we will reclaim the Weald. The Seelie alliance is built on the most fragile of foundations: that humankind will evolve beyond the petty desires and shortsightedness we have all witnessed from the species. In time, my friends, we will retake the Weald.”
“Into hiding, then?” Wakinyan asked.
Tse-xo-be nodded. “Yes.”
One by one, the Ohanzee transformed into their natural forms and scattered across Talemn Álainn.
Unlike any species the Fae had previously encountered, the human race organized into civilizations, altering the land, constructing cities, and erecting monuments. Some Fae found the new species fascinating and somewhat similar to themselves. Others, however, grew repulsed by humankind’s disregard for the natural world. Dissention within the clans festered for centuries, leaving allies quarreling amongst themselves. Each clan governed its own comrades, some forbiding extermination of physical beings, others turning blind eyes to barbarous acts of torture and slaughter. Some clans preyed upon the superstitious nature of men, holding themselves out as deities and demanding that humans pay tribute to them through worship and sacrifice.
Against the counsel of most elders, some individual Fae sought to challenge the balance of power. Like a precursor of sorts to mankind’s pursuit of nuclear fission in the twentieth century, a few Fae sought to create the fabled fifth element, Aether. Aponi, an elder with the Ohanzee clan, had grown fond of humans and loathed the torment they endured at the hands of other Fae. She experimented with the elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, until she discovered the precise combination. Suddenly, everything changed.
When Aponi failed to persuade Tse-xo-be, the leader of the Ohanzee, to force the Ometeo, a neighboring clan, to end its practice of human sacrifice, she split from the Ohanzee and attacked the Ometeo by herself. Powerful but vulnerable in her solitary quest, Aponi was nearly destroyed by Tonitiuh, an Ometeo elder. It was a lesson she heeded well. Aponi sought out like-minded Fae. From the original clans the world over, she persuaded many of her kind to join her and amalgamated a new clan. They called themselves the Seelie—the Fae word for “seeking good” and “enlightened one.” Angered by Tse-xo-be’s rejection, and determined to cut ties to the Ohanzee permanently, Aponi adopted the name Ozara.
It was the first new clan in an epoch. As the Seelie grew in numbers, the original clans remained indifferent, unwilling to check Seelie’s expanding power. Over the next century, the Seelie clan quietly flourished. Throughout that time the new clan kept to shadows, never challenging the territorial boundaries of others. Numbering in the hundreds, the Seelie changed that in 4,500 B.C.E. when they converged on Gainjin, a small clan of Fae in Melanesia (present-day Papua New Guinea). The Gainjin who survived either joined the Seelie or went into seclusion.
Over the next decade, the original clans experienced numerous defections but took no action. The elders viewed self-determination as an essential component of existence. Taking advantage of the clans’ inaction, the Seelie clan expanded its sphere of influence. For decades, the five most powerful clans—the Ohanzee, the Olympians, the Sidhe, the Ancient Ones, and the Jinn—avoided a confrontation with the Seelie. Their apathy set in motion a shift in power that forever altered the role of the Fae in the physical world.
The Weald: 4200 BCE
The Ohanzee elders gathered near the portal, the Seoladán, awaiting the return of their leader, Tse-xo-be, and news from the clan parlay in Salastrau (near present-day Fontainebleau, France). Wakinyan stood silently, ignoring the cold wind that blew strands of his long black hair across the sculpted features of his face. Patiently watchful, never moving or blinking, he listened intently to the river below as it slowly etched patterns into the limestone bluffs that lined the valley.
“You are concerned?” Sinopa asked.
Wakinyan’s face remained stoic. “Of course. You?”
Sinopa lowered her brown eyes and nodded. “I have memorized the sounds and smells of the Weald myself.”
With a faint nod, Wakinyan acknowledged what all the Ohanzee feared: the possibility that one of their own might one day force them out of the Weald. An eroded plateau in the center of Talemn Álainn, and the location of the sole Seoladán on the continent, the Weald had served as the center of the Ohanzee territory for millions of years. Losing it had always seemed unfathomable.
“Perhaps not all is lost,” Sinopa said. “It is possible the Sidhe will join us.”
Wakinyan tightly pressed the lids closed over his light brown eyes, grimacing. “It behooves them to aid us, but I fear Danu will not involve the Sidhe. They fear Ozara. As do the Ancient Ones and the Jinn. Only the Olympians seem to recognize the threat, but they seek only to preserve their perverse relationship with humankind.” Wakinyan slowly opened his eyes and turned Sinopa. “We should have acted sooner. Destroyed Ozara when we could. Our passivity, I fear, will cost us the very thing we value the most.”
Paytah took physical form first, having passed through the Seoladán ahead of Tse-xo-be. Paytah’s face, normally devoid of emotion, provided the seven waiting Ohanzee elders with the answer they feared. Tears welled in his immortal eyes. Overcome with emotion and unable to speak, he spun, transformed into a tawny colored panther, and disappeared into the woods.
Tse-xo-be, appearing as stoic as always, assumed human form. He stood silently in the clearing atop the hill. Wakinyan’s square jaw dropped to his chest and his arms went slack. It was done: the Sidhe would not help.
“What of the Ancient Ones? The Olympians?” Sinopa asked.
Tse-xo-be shook his head.
Another elder, Nodin, asked, “Do we fight?”
Tse-xo-be shook his head again. “We are three hundred. They are three thousand. We will not prevail.”
“Do you believe Aponi would actually destroy us?” Nodin asked
“Aponi is dead to us,” Wakinyan said, shifting his gaze to Nodin. “Ozara will destroy us. You already know it to be true.”
“What are we to do?” Sinopa asked.
“Zeus offered us sanctuary,” Tse-xo-be said, “and Wakinyan and I a place on the Olympian Council. I believe the offer to be in good faith, but I suspect our acceptance will only bring Ozara’s wrath to their clan.”
“Attack the Olympians? Surely the other clans will stand against the Seelie if they invade the continent,” Sinopa said, a deep furrow forming above the bridge of her nose.
“No, I do not believe they would. Anuket, Asharyu, Guanlin, Sherman, and Victoria have joined the Seelie Council,” Tse-xo-be said, allowing the Ohanzee elders a moment to ponder what those five names meant. The Seelie Council, numbering twenty ancients and an Aetherfae, had become the most formidable alliance in history. “The Seelie have exploited our nature: the clans’ distrust of one another and our singular desire to remain isolated and independent. While we lingered, observing the status quo, they changed the rules.”
Sinopa turned and stared into the distance, her dark eyes fixed on some infinite point above the flat-topped hills of the Weald. “They move against us now? How long?”
“In my existence, I have never before said this: we have no time.”
Sinopa turned back to Tse-xo-be, catching a glimpse of the resignation on his face. “Then what is our plan?”
“It is my desire to keep our clan intact,” Tse-xo-be said. “Be it a century or an epoch, we will reclaim the Weald. The Seelie alliance is built on the most fragile of foundations: that humankind will evolve beyond the petty desires and shortsightedness we have all witnessed from the species. In time, my friends, we will retake the Weald.”
“Into hiding, then?” Wakinyan asked.
Tse-xo-be nodded. “Yes.”
One by one, the Ohanzee transformed into their natural forms and scattered across Talemn Álainn.
* * * * *
Read:
EPISODE 2: RISE OF THE UNSEELIE - FALL OF ATLANTIS
Episode Home
* * * * *
Copyright © 2014 Christopher Shields.
All Rights Reserved
Read:
EPISODE 2: RISE OF THE UNSEELIE - FALL OF ATLANTIS
Episode Home
* * * * *
Copyright © 2014 Christopher Shields.
All Rights Reserved
