Eleventh Cycle (Mistland, #1)

by Kian N. Ardalan

The Creator did not understand. “Why my child? Why create a being unbound by us, why grant it free will and instil into it individuality?” The King would argue thus: “It is precisely because they are unbound, because they are not tied to me or you or the other Elders, that they deserve such freedom. You created me because the world was formless. What form is there to something that is preordained? Is it not better to watch what path the world takes on its own? To not tangle the bend of the tree, but to let it thrive?” Alas, the Creator obliged his son’s wishes and brought mankind to the world: us. Bound by lock and key, he gave us gender so we may flourish untethered to the will of the Haar and the Elders. When he saw us foolish and clueless to the nature of the world, eating upon poisoned berries and unable to see the truth of it all, he permitted us to share in the shine of his burning eyes and created colour. So did the first sun rise up into the sky and reveal the beauty of the seven shades and their servants. We were left to our devices and were the harbingers of war and hate, but also love and hope. When the King wanted to give his subjects another chance, he created the first angel: the Grand Archon. It is said they are a great body of wheels spinning upon a central body of light. The wheels are covered in endless eyes. And within their golden spire, they formed the Contract of Time to bind us mortals to its ticking clock. Then there came more, the Elder King formed...