The Kult of Salom'Sileyu: The Salom'Sileyu Trilogy 1

By Zachael T.J. Presgrove

An attack from an ancient god, a government determined to cover it up, and a heartbroken elfan maiden certain to find answers, embark on a journey of mystery, terror, and strange magic as Ayela navigates her aching heart and the cosmic powers at work behind a series of strange events. What will she discover as she seeks out the myste

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zachael T.J. Presgrove
• Release date: Jan 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781734572223

Zachael T.J. Presgrove

Zachael is a writer with a love for fantasy, science, and the allure of religious myth and cosmic theories.

Book preview

I

Episode 1

Sümol

Chapter 1

Chapter Separator

…We must not ignore what the Alldweii, the divine scriptures, has written on its pages.

Fires raged into the blackened sky, snarling fiercely as they feasted on the broken homes and buildings of the demolished town. The smell was horrendous; charred flesh mixed unharmoniously with treated wood and burning brick. The flames crackled and whipped violently, threatening to consume anything in whatever direction the wind decided to take it.

In the midst of the chaos and heated destruction, a cimson-haired elfan maiden had fallen to her knees with her arms loosely dangled to her sides. She was distraught, covered in filth and blood that stained her torn white dress and her pale skin, and her red locks were a frizzled mess. Her violet eyes were watery and dumbfounded, leaking over with pained emotion as she looked on at the destruction at what had once been her home.

She’d seen this horrific destruction before, with the man she’d fallen in love with just two years prior.

It came in a storm…

That creature without a form.

And this time…

This time, it was the same exact thing… She stared at the pile of rubble before her, the pile that had fallen on the girl that helped her learn to love again. Two years of solitude, two years of bitter pain, two years of working so hard to bring her heart to a place where she could open up once again… Just to see it all crushed under burning remains of a vicious attack from beings of higher dimensions.

She buried her face into her palms and let out a mournful wail, and sobbed uncontrollably. Tears poured from her eyes and burned as they mixed with the dirt. The sounds of her cries mixed with the crackling and burning wood, and her body began to shake.

Then, everything froze. The fires stood still, the wind stopped, and everything blowing remained in its exact position as if she were standing in the middle of a paused scene in a film. She looked around, suddenly terrified. Her heart pounded so hard, she felt it in her throat, and her skin began to go numb. She cautiously stood to her feet, breathing heavily and quivering. The sounds of her exaggerated inhales and exhales echoed around, as if she were in a chamber filled with a holographic projection.

A peal of royal-blue lightning flashed in the distance, near the heart of the town, catching her attention. She looked skyward, and felt a flurry of emotions as a pair of bright, massive, glowing eyes glared down at her from the black clouds, casting their blue hue onto everything from above in stark contrast to the orange glow of the flames. She took a step back, nearly falling, and gawked in awe as a symbolic star with six points etched itself into the air above its eyes, glowing with the same intense color.

The aethril, she thought to herself. Even thinking about the otherworldly being invoked anger, pain and fear in her heart. Another flash of lightning struck ground somewhere behind it, revealing a reman-like figure as black as shadow, made from the swirling cloud itself. It defied logic and rationality. She tried to make sense of what she saw, but there was nothing that could explain it in a way that was understandable.

It was nothing.

It was like a shadowy silhouette, as if the clouds masked its true form behind them like a thick fog, and yet it was separate from the clouds altogether. It was illogical and tirelessly formless. It was a nameless horror, a divine agent of a realm beyond reality itself, possessing control and mastery of the material world like a god of ancient times.

…You…

Its voice was like thunder, rumbling the ground and the time-struck reality around her. The tears had dried on her cheeks as she gawked, awestruck. There was something different about this aethril. Something about it emulated a deep sense of peace and uncaring, simultaneously existing in the same presence that wrought destruction down on her home.

But suddenly, for some reason unknown to her, she was at the center of its attention. Her. A humble reman woman that was attending a casual congregation earlier that morning. A quiet girl that was simply trying to live her life in the company of a woman she’d fallen so in love with. For a second time, one of their kind stole her love from her. For a second time, one of their kind stole from her a peaceful and quiet life. And now, this majestic being that thought nothing of her kind was paying her attention.

…That all life rests in the hands of Rök, our creator. And nothing, not even the divine council, not even the cosmic entities, and not even the darklings of old can scrub you from his memories…

She was still struck with fear. Everything around her was still frozen in time. Rhaja, the woman she’d loved, was still dead under the pile of burning rubble. And she was still alive… But why? To what end? What purpose did this mighty being have for her? Why did Rök orchestrate her survival over everything else?

…You’re a divine logician…

There it was. The reason. Her powers. That was why she survived. That was why this being took notice of her. She wielded a power that history and religion tried to explain as divine logic, and its wielders were titled divine logicians by the supernatural creatures of old. Those of the legendary order of knights, the Uri’Kai, were the only recognized divine logicians, but the empire of Enthedrill made sure to wipe them out thousands of years ago. Now, few remain who wield its powers. The bloodlines were all but extinguished, and rarely would a follower of Korism like herself emerge with the mythic power.

But she didn’t have an answer for herself. She was born with it, so clearly she was a bloodline. She believed in Rök and practiced Korism, so clearly she was religiously affiliated. But she was an orphan, and there was no clear indication to what bloodline she could have belonged. She’d lived her life mostly alone, and the people she did know growing up didn’t have any answers for her – not that she ever revealed her abilities to them.

All she knew was that she grew up with them and spent her whole life learning the dances and martial arts of other cultures so that she could channel and control her powers.

Dancer. That was all she could find in the history books about people like her.

Dancer. The most powerful of the divine logicians.

Dancer. The ones whose powers could transform reality and the material with the most graceful of motions. That was her lot. She was a divine logician without an order of knights to belong to. She didn’t wear the garb, she didn’t wield the iconic and legendary sword. She hid her true identity from the world, and perhaps that was why everyone around her died… Even though, this time, she tried to use her power and it did nothing against this aethril.

I am Ayela Rhexa, she declared defiantly. I’m not merely a divine logician, not merely a dancer, and not merely a Songrivan; I am Ayela Rhexa! She was terrified, and it was transparently clear from the trembling of her legs as she tried to muster the strength to maintain a defiant pose. But how could anyone stand so defiantly against such a terrifying being?

…Your name means nothing… It responded in its thunderous tone. …You do not understand the times…But you will…

Lightning flashed violently over and over behind the being, with each strike illuminating the sky and revealing the aethril reaching out with its shadowy hand. Panicked, she turned and ran, ducking around the paused flames and dashing through the frozen scenery as if she could outrun the lesser god, but when she looked over her shoulder, the aethril managed to match her pace and continue to reach for her. It was as if the creature was clung to her via some unseen cord, and was hovering behind her like a balloon would cling to a child.

Closer.

Closer.

The open hand was inches away, and even her movements seemed to slow down, though her thinking was normally paced. She didn’t understand what was going on, but clearly this being had power even over time itself. Reality bent to its strange and unknowable will, despite her attempts to rescue herself from its grasp.

Its fingers wrapped around her frustratingly slow, and she watched in horror as darkness enveloped her. Rays of orange light from the frozen flames were the last thing she saw before she was lost in all-encompassing darkness.

And then, there was nothing…

Chapter 2

Chapter Separator

A gentle breeze caressed her face, offering a soothing calm from the sorrowful chaos she’d experienced the day before. Was it the day before? Was it several days before? She wasn’t sure. While the breeze gently cooed her to consciousness, the pungent smell of charred remains and flesh jolted her awake.

Her eyes shot open, only to quickly reduce to a squint as the sun shone brilliantly. She grunted as she propped herself up onto her elbows. Her heart sank as she surveyed her surroundings, and she recollected everything that led up to that moment; the terrified expression on Rhaja’s beautiful, mocha-skinned, crimson-iris’d face as she shoved Ayela to safety… Just before that building fell on her…

Even before Rhaja’s death, the screams of the people as the storm suddenly appeared out of nowhere had filled their ears. The skies darkened as winds raged, and when the first strikes of lightning hit, sparking fires on many of the older buildings, they saw the first silhouette of the lesser god. She’d seen such terrifying sights once before, but never nearly as fearsome as that one was.

She looked around at the blackened wreckage as she stood to her feet, and the utter despair started to burn in her heart, forcing her once again to tears. Everything was silent… Everything was dead. She was the only survivor of the aethril attack, and the memory of the town of Sümol would go down as another unfortunate victim in a strange, inter-dimensional war between mere mortals and strange, nameless gods.

She cried again for Rhaja, and as old wounds opened, she cried for the lover she had before who was lost in the same way. She missed him even more now, longing for his comfort as badly as she longed for hers. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t she have love? Why couldn’t she be with someone and have a normal life, like everyone else around her? Why did she have power that promised her survival, but couldn’t at least guarantee the survival of those she cared about?

It just wasn’t fair.

She wiped her eyes and walked over to the pile of rubble that Rhaja was buried under and started to try to move aside the wooden beams, but everything was too heavy and she was too weak. Desperate, she got on her knees and tried to crawl under the wood, hoping to be able to use her body to lift it up, but her attempts were in vain. She was too exhausted, and the rubble was too heavy. She noticed how cool the remains were against her skin, and began to realize she’d been unconscious for several days. Or, perhaps the aethril took her through time when it wrapped its hands around her. She wasn’t sure, and it didn’t matter; there was no going back now.

She gave up with an exasperated sigh, but as she crawled out from under the pile, she noticed a strange, golden pendant half-buried under the ash. Her brow furrowed, puzzled by this new strange icon as she pulled it out and stood to her feet. It had an image of a clock etched into its face, with strange characters and numbers of an unknown language accompanying the elegantly designed hands. On its backside was written:

Shel Oyev Lvhm.