Aelynn’s Vision

🌒 CLAN OF THE ANCESTORS — WEEK 4

A Bone and Blood Heritage Saga

Aelynn’s Vision

(The Turning of the Ages)

Aelynn did not feel herself fall.

The moment her body sank to the roots of the Harmonic Tree, the realm seemed to fold inward, pulling her consciousness down, down, into the deep pulse of the world beneath worlds.

The Tree dimmed its glow, not in grief this time, but in invitation.

Its roots curled around her like gentle arms, holding her steady as her breath softened, her light flickered, and the cold star beneath her ribs went silent for the first time since her birth.

Then—

A sound rose.

Not from above.
Not from around her.

From within the Tree itself.

A sound like a great, slow inhale.

The world dissolved.

And the dream began.

A City She Had Never Seen

Aelynn’s eyes opened into darkness.

Not the soft darkness of rest, nor the ancient dark of unformed creation — but a human night.

Warm air.

Dry wind.

Stone walls rising toward the sky.

She stood—no, she hovered—above a massive city, its rooftops glittering with lamplight, its towers reaching upward as though trying to touch the stars.

She had never seen such angles.

Such density.

Such ambition shaping a place.

Humans.

A young race, impulsive, fragile, burning so brightly they sometimes scorched their own futures.

And here—ruling over this restless expanse—

was a king.

She could see him through the window of a towering palace, pacing like a caged storm.

Dark hair.

Broad shoulders.

Eyes sharp with hunger.

Nebuchadnezzar.

Aelynn did not know his name, but she felt his significance the moment her attention settled on him.

He was not fae.

Not ancient.

Not divine.

But he carried something terrifying:

the capacity to reshape the world through sheer force of will.

The Tree had brought her here for a reason.

She drifted closer.

Nebuchadnezzar clutched the edge of a carved table, knuckles white, breath uneven.

He was afraid.

Powerful men were almost always afraid.

“What is coming…” Aelynn whispered, though he could not hear her. “What does he see? What am I meant to witness?”

Then the wind shifted.

The scene changed.

And the dream opened.

The Statue Rises

Aelynn now stood upon an empty plain—
flat, silent, endless.

At first, she thought she was alone.

Then she felt it.

A tremor beneath her feet.

The ground cracked.
Light erupted upward.
And something enormous began rising from the earth.

A statue.

Not stone.
Not metal.
Not made by hands.

But a vision — a living image.

Its head glowed with the brilliance of pure gold.

Its chest and arms gleamed with silver.

Its belly and thighs darkened into bronze.

Its legs hardened into iron.

And its feet—

Ah.

Its feet were a strange, brittle mixture of iron and clay.

Conflict. Weakness. Future fracture.

Aelynn’s breath hitched.

This was not simply a king’s dream—
it was a map.

A timeline.

A prophecy etched into symbols.

The statue towered above her, so tall she had to tilt her head back to see its face.

Then—

The wind stilled.

The sky froze.

And a stone appeared.

Uncut.
Unshaped.
Not made by any tool.

It flew like a star broken loose from the firmament.

It struck the statue at the feet—
the iron and clay shattered—
and the entire figure collapsed in a roaring avalanche of metal and dust.

Gold. Silver. Bronze. Iron. Clay.

All swept away like chaff in the wind.

The stone that destroyed it grew larger…
and larger…
and larger…

until it became a mountain.

A mountain that filled the whole earth.

Aelynn felt her heart slam against her ribs.

The Tree had never shown her anything like this.

This was not fae history.
Not First Realm memory.

This was human destiny unfolding before her eyes.

And something — someone — was interfering.

She sensed it like a shadow slipping behind the edges of the dream.

Her twin.

Exiled.
Fallen.
Wounded.
And now seeking dominion over the most malleable creatures ever formed.

Humans.

The Rise and Fall of Kingdoms

The dream shifted again.

Four kingdoms rose before her in rapid succession—
not as statues now, but as living nations.

Cities expanding.
Armies marching.
Kings crowned.
Empires stretching across continents.

She saw:

The kingdom of gold
—glittering, powerful, arrogant.

The kingdom of silver
—divided yet cunning, reshaping the world through strategy rather than force.

The kingdom of bronze
—swift, relentless, spreading its influence far and wide.

The kingdom of iron
—crushing, conquering, devouring everything it touched.

And beneath it all:

The clay.
The fragility.
The weakness.
The fracture waiting to split the world open.

Aelynn reached toward the images—

and felt the cold star inside her flare, as though recognizing the stories written into the human timeline.

She saw migrations.
Tribes.
Children of distant lands moving westward.
Crossing mountains, seas, storms.
Seeking new homes.

She saw Ireland forming like a leaf unfurling from a hidden bud.
A small island.
Emerald bright.
Destined to become a root-place for her kind.

She saw fae footprints — subtle, shimmering — trailing along the edges of human history, always watching, always nudging, always protecting.

And she saw where the Fallen One had settled.

Not in one place.

In many.

Slipping behind thrones.
Stirring ambition.
Fueling tyranny.
Delighting in the rise and fall of kings, for within chaos his influence grew.

Aelynn felt nausea twist through her.

“He is trying to rule them,” she whispered.

And worse—

“He is trying to break them.”

Humans were not made to withstand such shadow.
Their hearts flickered too quickly.
Their desires burned too hot.

They were easy to sway.
Easy to wound.
Easy to unravel.

This dream was not merely warning Aelynn.

It was appointing her.

The Final Sign

The dream slowed.

The wind softened.

And the great mountain remained—the one formed from the uncut stone.

It pulsed with a light that felt older than the First Realm.

Older than Aelynn.
Older than her twin.
Older than the Tree.

Aelynn stepped closer, her hand lifting of its own accord.

She almost touched it.

The mountain whispered.

Not in words she knew, but in truth she understood:

This will stand.
This will endure.
This is the future no Shadow can break.

Tears gathered in Aelynn’s eyes.

The dream began to fade.

Nebuchadnezzar’s sleeping form flickered back into view.
He tossed.
He turned.
He clutched his chest.

He had not yet had the dream—
but soon he would.

And now Aelynn had seen it first.

Because she was meant to act.

The Call to Earth

As the dream dissolved entirely, the Harmonic Tree’s voice finally spoke.

Not as image.
Not as feeling.

But as language—clear, ancient, resonant:

“The Fallen One reshapes the kingdoms of men.”

The world flickered.

Aelynn felt herself sinking back toward her body in the First Realm.

“He claims dominion that is not his.”

Her breath struggled back into her lungs.

“He wounds Earth.
He twists its fate.
He corrupts its kings.”

Aelynn gasped, hand gripping soil.

“If you do not go…”

Her eyes snapped open—

“…the Shadow will rule.”

Aelynn lay under the Harmonic Tree, trembling, breath ragged, the cold star burning like a brand inside her.

She understood.

The dream was not to frighten her.

It was to commission her.

Earth was in danger.
Its kingdoms fragile.
Its people vulnerable.

Her twin was already there.

Trying to destroy what was not his to destroy.
Trying to rule what was not his to rule.
Trying to twist the timeline toward ruin.

And Aelynn—

protector of harmony,
bearer of the cold star,
twin-born daughter of Light—

could not remain in the First Realm.

Not anymore.

The choice had already been made the moment she saw the dream.

Aelynn rose to her knees, hand pressed to her ribs.

“I will go,” she whispered.

“At whatever cost.”

— End of Week 4 —