Earth Begotten
A thousand and more years ago, when the true-gotten son of the One God, Yeshua ben Yosef, Mashiach of the Yeshuites, who say he died for the sins of all men, hung dying upon the cross of wood, a soldier of Tiberium pierced his side with the cruel steel of a spearhead. When Yeshua was lowered, the women grieved, his beloved the Magdalene most of all, letting down the ruddy gold torrent of her hair to clothe his still, naked figure. The bitter salt tears of the Magdalene fell upon soil ensanguined and moist with the shed blood of the Messiah. And because their union had never been sealed, Earth Herself took pity upon them and in the damp soil She quickened the divine seed of life, and of it Blesséd Elua was born, and he was nurtured in the womb of Earth, her most precious son, most cherished of all the angels.
Abhorred by the Yeshuites as an abomination, reviled by the empire of Tiberium as the scion of its enemy, Elua was cast out to wander. And wander he did, across vast deserts and wastelands on the bosom of Earth. Elua trod with bare feet, singing, and flowers bloomed in his wake. And where he went, people feared him, for he was strange to them, and the One God, called Adonai by the Yeshuites, whose Name is forgotten, scorned him, mourning only for his true-gotten son.
Elua was captured in Persis, and shook his head singing when the King cast him in chains, and vines grew to wreath his cell. The tale of his wandering had come to reach the ear of Heaven, and when he was imprisoned, there were those among the angelic hierarchy who took pity on him.
Naamah, eldest sister, and it was she who gave herself to the King to win blessed Elua's freedom with a night's pleasure. There is still told in Persis the tale of the King’s Night of Pleasure. Following her was clever Shemhazai, gentle Eisheth and kind Anael, proud Azza, martial Camael, and Kushiel with his cruel mercies. Not last among them was Cassiel, who came in duty to the compassion the One God had forgotten. When the door to Blesséd Elua's cell was opened, a fragrance of flowers came forth and Elua emerged singing, crowned in vines, and their hearts were moved to love him.
Afterward, the King of Persis became fearful and betrayed Elua and those who followed, giving them strong wine laced with valerian to drink. While they slept, he had them cast in a boat with no sails and put out to sea; but Blesséd Elua awoke and sang, and the creatures of the sea’s deeps came to answer, guiding the boat across the sea to land in Bhodistan.
In Bhodistan, they are an ancient people, and they feared to turn from their multitude of gods, who are at turns capricious and compassionate. Yet they saw the light in Blesséd Elua and would allow no harm to come to him, so he wandered singing, and people made the sign of peace and turned away. When he went hungry, Naamah lay down in the marketplace, the stews of Bhodistan, with strangers for coin. And the Companions followed Elua, not knowing or caring if the eye of the One God was upon them, and where they went they sang, and wound in their hair the flowers that sprang up in Blesséd Elua's wake. Alone among them, only Cassiel gave thought to Heaven, but he loved Elua too well to abandon him.
When Elua was weary, he sought sanctuary among the Tsingani in Bhodistan, but they turned him out, with jeers and stones, predicting in their pride that he and his Companions would ever be cursed to wander the Earth’s bosom, doomed to call no place home. It is not wise to curse the son of Earth’s womb; they were punished, the fate they decreed sealed as their own, condemned to walk the long road. But in her cruel mercy, the Mother-of-All granted them the dromonde, to part the veils of time, that next time they might see truer.
From there, Elua’s course drifted to the North, and he wandered long through lands harsh and stony, and the angels and creatures of the earth attended upon him, or surely have perished, and for many years they sojourned. In the plains of Akkad, padding lions led him to honey. In Tiroc Pass, a great eagle flew each morning, stooping low over ice and crags to drop a bright berry in Blesséd Elua's mouth. North, he wandered, then west, and in the dark woods of the Skaldic hinterlands, the ravens and wolves were his friends, but the tribesmen gave him no heed, brandishing their terrible axes and calling upon their gods in words of blood and iron. So Blesséd Elua wandered, and snowdrops poked their heads above the drifts where he went.
Westward and westward, with his Companions at his side, Blesséd Elua wandered and came at last in summer to a land unnamed where olives, grapes and melons grew, and lavender bloomed in fragrant clouds. And here the people welcomed him as he crossed the fields, answering him in song, opening their arms, and Blesséd Elua took them for his own and loved them. This place, he made his home, and it was called in his name ever after, Terre d'Ange.
In seven parts did Elua's Companions divide the land among themselves to rule, saving only Cassiel, who remained ever at Elua's side and loved him as a brother. And these parts were named Namarre, Siovale, Eisande, L'Agnace, Azzalle, Camlach and Kusheth and therein they dwelt, but Blesséd Elua himself would claim no part, wandering freely in the whole; yet along the banks of a mighty river, where he tarried longest, the City of Elua with its white walls was founded.
For three-score years they dwelled there and abided by Blesséd Elua's Precept, which was, "Love as thou wilt." And Elua and his Companions lay with women and with men, and many children were begotten, save only unto steadfast Cassiel, who kept the One God's commandments, abjuring mortal love for the love of the divine, but his heart was moved by Elua, and he stayed always by his side like a brother. But the other Companions did not, and those secrets, which they had brought from Heaven, they did teach to their children, and they grew wise in many arts. So did Terre d’Ange come to be what it is, and the world to know d’Angeline beauty, born in the bloodlines from the seed of Blesséd Elua and those who followed him.
Now, when the One God left off his grieving for his one true-gotten son, Yeshua ben Yosef, and ceased to be preoccupied with the course of his chosen people, and turned His thoughts to them He was wroth. The time of deities does not move like our own, and three generations may live and die in the space between one thought and another. When the songs of the d’Angelines reached his ears, he turned his eye to Terre d’Ange, to Elua and those who had fled Heaven to follow him, and He saw that their offspring would overrun the earth, and He sent the leader of His host, His commander-in-chief, to fetch them back and summon Blesséd Elua before His throne. But Blesséd Elua smiled upon the leader of the One God's host and gave him the kiss of peace, laying wreathes of flowers about his neck and filling his glass with sweet wines, and the leader of God’s host returned ashamed and empty-handed.
It came then to the One God that He held no dominion over Elua, his persuasion held no sway, for who was begotten in Earth's womb, in whose veins ran the red wine of his mother Earth, through the womb she gave him and the tears of the Magdalene, he did not answer to Heaven; yet through this he was mortal, and subject to mortality. Thus the One God pondered long, and sent not the angel of death, but His arch-herald to Blesséd Elua and his Companions. “Do you stay here and love as you wilt, thy offspring shall overrun the earth,” said the herald of the One God. “And this is a thing which may not be. Come now in peace to the right hand of your God and Lord, and all is forgiven.”
Blesséd Elua smiled upon the arch-herald, and turned to his boon companion Cassiel, holding out his hand for the dagger. Taking it, he drew the point across the palm of his hand, scoring it. Bright blood welled in his palm and fell in fat drops to the earth, and anemones bloomed. "My grandfather's Heaven is bloodless," Elua told the arch-herald, "And I am not. Let him offer me a better place, where we may love and sing and grow as we are wont, where our children and our children's children may join us, and I will go."
The arch-herald paused, awaiting the One God's response. "There is no such place," he replied.
And there was silence in Heaven and in Terre d'Ange, while Blesséd Elua's blood fell upon the soil and scarlet anemones bloomed, and his children and his children's children did watch and marvel. And such a thing happened as had not happened for many thousands of years and never since: Our mother Earth did speak to Her once-husband, the One God, and say, "It may be done. Let us create it together, You and I." This was done, and such a thing has not happened since.
Thus was the creation of the true Terre d'Ange, that lies beyond mortal perception, whose gate we may enter only after passing through the dark gate that heads out of this world. Blesséd Elua and his Companions went willingly into it, passing not through the dark gate of death, but straightway through the bright gate. And alone among them, only Cassiel gazed backward in sorrow. But this land he loved first, and so we call it after that one, and revere him and his memory, in pride and love.
Generation upon generation, the blood of Elua and his Companions runs still in the veins of their descendants, each of whom will one day follow to the land that lies beyond. And though centuries pass, we do not forget, but call our land still after that further one, and keep always sacred the precept of Blesséd Elua, that is, "Love as thou wilt."
Such is Terre d'Ange.
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