The Scyn-Seetha Wars

There weren’t always dragons inside the valley. The dragons were once born inside a Siren’s womb — but that was long ago now, long before the Scyn-Seetha wars. The Siren women would go to the lagoons, you see, and bathe in the languid shallows where the dragon flies lay eggs. The eggs, resting on their bellies, would become enveloped by Siren skin, into the womb. And over the course of many months, the Siren’s scales would coagulate with that little fly’s wings, and on the eleventh month - a dragon egg would be born.

The Siren's life would, of course, be lost in moments (the dragon child would ply open its mother’s belly, tearing the womb and the body in two). Yet this was how it was in Scyn, before Seetha came. You may ask - what is Scyn? Well, if you are reading this account in the 21st century what is called ‘Earth” in your time, imagine the planet Saturn. Now, recall the asteroid systems whirling in the cosmic firmament around that gaseous orb. Now, see, instead of those asteroids, four separate lands revolving in concentric circles around a golden portal - a portal guarded by the Aeraeds that led to other realms. These other realms are of no matter now, think only of these four lands, these four rings. The fourth, outer ring of land was harvested by the Bregadans. Short, stout, determined race of loyal souls. With four arms and six legs, they walked not unlike an earthly spider, however much less graceful, and ever so loudly. My god, in that time, in the time of the Aeraed’s rule, the Bregadans were clumsy with their agricultural tools. But determination would take a Bregadan an awfully long way, and so, with all the flailing limbs you can envision - these beings happily and chaotically grew the food for everyone in this planetary system we used to call Scyn.

So the outer ring of Scyn, cared for by the Bregadans, encircled the third land, the land of merchants: the Kaharinta. The Kaharintas were wonderfully cunning, a trait that perhaps all beings in this solar system should have acquired before the Seetha came. They would trade and barter, but also, of course, create many objects used by all species to perform daily tasks: bookshelves for the Heorta, dragon harnesses for the Aereads, and love sonnets for the Sirens. Kaharintas were, perhaps, the most what you would now call “human” looking. Well dressed in black suits, two legs, an upright back and two arms. They did not hunch like a Bregadan over their toil - they walked with stature, perhaps with a little too much ego for their own good. Yes, certainly the most human. But in their hearts, I assure you, they meant no harm - only to survive and, on occasion, enjoy themselves.

The ring of land orbiting this portal, the second land in Scyn, was inhabited by the Heorta. These were the educators, the researchers, the beings who lived only to think, and to think of many things, and to think of these many things very often. Long and gangly, pulled by the gravity of their mind to the magnetic rims of the sky that kept these lands orbiting around the portal - a Heorta’s body was forever hyperextended to the sky. As if, in some way, their knowledge was caught by their minds from the cosmic energy that enveloped the sky around Scyn. These beings had twice as many veins leading to their minds, their limbs - and so their translucent skin would turn from blue to red, blue to red from each out breath, each in breath.

And finally, the first and final inner ring of land whirling around the portal - a land consisting of underwater valleys protected by Sirens, flies and their dragon children. These Sirens were beautiful, very beautiful. We were beautiful - all of us. And while the Heorta fixated on order, and the Bregadan fixated on production, and the Kaharinta fixated on prosperity - the Sirens fixated only on chaos and creation. Perhaps that phrase is tautological. Is not all creation an act of erecting order from the chaotic unknown? The Sirens were the creators of chaos, they gave form to the tumultuous capacity of the universal unknown by throwing the egg of a fly into the reptilian biology and in so doing, created the only being that could traverse through the portal unharmed: a dragon. Giving birth to such creatures was of course the reasoned death of a Siren, but that was their function - to sacrifice for the good of nature herself.

And who commanded these dragons born by sacrifice? The Aereads. These Aereads lived in that space - that distance - between the Siren's inner ring of land and the portal itself. They did not need to land, or an atmosphere of any kind to survive. They merely needed space to exist. Literally, space. And what function did they serve? Well, many things, and beings who inhabited a land in the system Scyn, when leaving their bodily form - needed a guide to other realms. They needed someone to show them the way into and through the portal on the wings of a dragon. So, diligently and with grace, these Aereads would navigate the unknown space between these four lands and this portal for the benefit of all beings in Scyn. They did, of course, many other tasks. They would talk to the Sirens when they quiered their purpose - the purpose to give birth to the dragons that carry everyone, at one point in their lives. Aereads would talk to the Kaharintas when they forgot the true worth of gold. They would navigate the living bodies or the traveling souls. Not many are known by name - not many at all. Except for one. The one who saved my life.

And these are the lands and the beings who lived in Scyn. And so we all acted in accordance with Fortune’s will, each served our duty under, below and through the sun-like Portal. Until, of course, the Seetha came.

A nauseous collective, a group of beings defined only in relation to each other - with rat-like tails protruding from their mouth, they spoke in a tongue plagued by disease. A disease so many of us died from at the beginning of the invasion. How naive we had been, to accept so openly, without momentary judgment, that perhaps this collective had a very different conception of our destiny. That was the thing about Scyn, no matter who you were, you respected another’s place under the portal. You would let others be as they are in accordance with their own soul, their own destiny. In place of universal fortune coagulating with a Being’s free will, the Seetha believed in supplanting another races’ desire to control these beings, these Heorta educators, these Kaharinta merchants, these Bregadan agriculturalists. When I say supplant, I mean execute of course. When I mean execute - I mean something far worse than what you are imagining. Far worse than death or the act of dying.

And where, you may ask, are the dragons? They are in this valley, with me, the last remaining Siren. This valley, submerged in water, is now an asylum for these few species who dedicated their lives to the duty of their own soul, and not the control or submission to that nauseous collective. For in our valley, once upon a time, that is all there was - empathy for another's soul under the portal. Until the Seetha came and spread their disease.

But before I can continue on the details of such a disease, let me name myself - so then, you may know me. My name is Sibright, a Siren. I have a tale covered in falling scales, how easily they peel from the netted skin on my fin. I was very much abandoned by fortune as a child - as all good narrators are. My mother died giving birth to her dragon after she gave birth to me, I did not know her long. And my father, seen by many as a creator of strong female Sirens who would give birth to stronger dragons, was palmed (may I add quite happily) off to many a Siren woman. I do not think he knew any of his children. And so my deep purple scales with that golden shimmer lining each curve of my tale often fall from grief. But perhaps this grief originates somewhere deeper than an abandoned past. No, it is from the loss of something greater: an abandoned future.

I was always a bit slow, I suppose - often running away from the deep valleys of the ocean where these dragons were born. The Aereads tended to wait at the edges of this land, just above the skyline - until the dragons were ready to ascend and meet their guardians. And so I would, like the fool that I am, often wander to the edges of this world I knew to see the initiation. Once born from the valley, the dragon would travel across the sea (for an ocean valley is no place for a dragon - they are made for greater purposes). They would travel until they reached the inner rim of the land - where the ocean fell into the abyss of the universe below. And it was there that they would take their first flight from the womb of the watery land into the arms of the Aeread’s harness bought from the Kaharintas - and from there into the portal sun for their first ride. How golden this process was, and how very foolish of me it was to go to the edge of the land and witness this when I was a young maiden. How foolish it was of me to fall in love with an Aeread I had never spoken to - only seen from the edge of our little universe. And how very, very foolish of me to let this love dictate each decision of my life till now.

And so, you know me. I am a Siren, named Sibright Arey, in love with an Aeread called Vareyheal, trapped in a valley under the sea with the last surviving Bregadans, Kaharintas, Heortas and Aereads protected by dragons. The ones who survived the purging of the lands of Scyn by the Seetha. My womb will never work, you see - so instead of baring dragons - I give birth to this - a chaotic account of the fallen Scyn - in hope that you will never repeat such a mistake. Never repeat the following mistake…