บท 20: Tower
No doubt, that tower is beyond anything human hands could have fashioned. It's undeniable evidence that the Gods once walked among us, or perhaps still do, concealed from our gaze. Just think about all those unexplored floors within the tower. Who knows what secrets lie hidden there? I have a feeling that whatever awaits us inside those forbidden chambers has the power to shatter the very core of our fragile world.
- An Apollonian fanatic.
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In an unknown realm filled with stars, three women, each of different ages, were seated on chairs. They seemed perfectly at ease as their fingers spun and twirled, tirelessly weaving a tapestry that appeared to stretch into eternity.
Who were these women, you may wonder? Defining their existence was no easy task, for they possessed names as numerous as the winds and titles as plentiful as the various ways one can meet Death along the endless river of time.
However, more often than not, they preferred to be known by the names bestowed upon them by their creator when She fashioned them from the void of nothingness: The Maiden, The Mother, The Crone.
They were The Fates, Primordials of Inevitability and Necessity.
As they spun their tapestry, they watched Apollo. They witnessed him laying a cornerstone for his monument in a land destined to become one of the most significant cities in the history of mankind—Byzantium/Constantinople/Istanbul. In doing so, he profoundly altered the course of human history.
But strangely, instead of taking action to rectify the altered fate and restore it to its intended course, they simply observed Apollo with gleaming interest.
Of course, they were well aware of his plan. It was clever, prudent, flashy, and also a tad reckless, much like Apollo himself. But considering what was at stake for him if he failed, they understood his decision.
However, if you were to ask for their true opinions, Apollo's worry was somewhat excessive. Indeed, the mortals would steadily gain power over the Gods through the mechanisms orchestrated by Gabriel.
Had events unfolded as intended, Olympus would have gradually lost its status with the rise of the Roman Empire. The blow would have been severe when the Roman Empire completely collapsed, pushing them almost back into the embrace of Khaos when the dark ages rolled over. Even in modern times, though they would have managed to regain some of their original strength, they remain forever bound to humanity, unable to reclaim their former glory.
But now, with Apollo, none of that was going to come to pass—humanity may never even see the shadow of Olympus, much less chain it to them forevermore.
So Apollo's true concern should lie with Gabriel, the mastermind behind it all.
"I never liked him," the Maiden sneered, her voice dripping with distaste. "Always acting all pompous and superior."
"They are all like that, sister-self," the Crone echoed, her words laced with bitterness. "They consider us foreigners, soiling their oh-so-sacred creation."
"Now, now," the Mother interjected, her voice a soothing balm of reason amidst the tension. "Not all of them are like that. Michael has always been kind and welcoming."
"And look where that got him," the Crone retorted, infused with a touch of irony and surprising pity.
"It is indeed a pity," the Mother echoed.
"Don't pity him, sister-selves," the Maiden said. "when he doesn't pity himself."
"Now," the Mother said, "don't be harsh."
"But am I wrong?" the Maiden asked clearly.
The Mother merely sighed in pity, grasping the threads as she wove them. Her eyes refocused on Apollo, who was with Themis. "Oh," she smiled lightly. "Themis has certainly grown fond of Apollo."
"It comes as no surprise," the Maiden replied. "In many ways, they are remarkably similar. Their paths were always destined to intertwine."
"But, sister-selves," the Crone interjected sharply. "With the randomness brought by Apollo, Themis will no longer be confined. She will transcend beyond godhood."
"Let her, then," the Mother conceded. "She has endured enough for her past mistakes."
"Don't tell me," the Maiden began, her voice filled with surprise as her eyebrows shot up.
"You've gone soft because of Apollo," the Crone hissed, her tone sharp and biting.
"He does bring change to everything," the Mother acknowledged, meeting the eyes of her sisters. "We can't stop it in most cases, so we might as well try to accept it."
The Maiden and the Crone grumbled under their breath, their dissatisfaction evident, but they ultimately refrained from retorting to their sister, silently acknowledging the bitter truth in her words.
The Maiden eventually spoke up with a touch of curiosity: "What are your thoughts on Apollo's chances of success if he faces Gabriel in the end?"
"Perhaps it won't even come to that," the Crone mused, her grey-old eyes fixated on the figure of Apollo. "Just look at the light within him. He may very well be the key."
"Let's just continue to observe his journey," the Mother whispered. "Apollo's existence embodies randomness itself, so how it all concludes, I believe even Destiny is uncertain. All we can do is prepare for the inevitable."
And so, the three sisters continued their weaving, their tapestry growing with every spin and turn, while occasionally casting their gaze upon Apollo's journey. Time passed as the wheel of destiny spun and spun, years slipping away like an unseen stream. The passage of time meant little to the Fates, for they had existed since the beginning of Creation, but on Earth, much had changed.
The once-empty land where Apollo had laid his cornerstone was now bustling with life. The mythical monument he and the Muses had dreamt of had become a reality, and a city was rising around it.
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There stood a tower, bridging the gap between lands and reaching for the heavens above. It emanated an otherworldly and sacred presence, as though it had materialised from the dreams of a deity. Every aspect of it exuded perfection and divinity. It was flawless and heavenly in every conceivable way. Bathed in a radiant hue of white gold, every stone of the fortress was meticulously carved and perfectly aligned, as if the architects were consumed by an unyielding pursuit of flawlessness, as if their hearts poured into their creation.
To merely label it as a tower wouldn't do justice to its true nature. It embodied the spirit of an oracle, a temple, a dwelling, a repository of knowledge, a stage, an archive, and so much more—essentially, it was a civilization in its own right.
And every single part of it bore the mark of his power, his essence, and his formidable strength—each signing his name and glory for all to behold.
Apollo.
He was the visionary who first dreamed it up and the mastermind behind its creation. With unwavering determination, he poured his heart and soul into the project, meticulously guiding every step of the building process. And finally, his dream transformed into a tangible reality, brimming with perfection and reverence. As its archon, he ruled over it from on high, basking in the glory of his creation.
And he christened it "Celestial Sanctum," a name that captured its divine essence. And when the time came, he swung open the majestic marble gates, inviting the world to step inside. Like moths drawn irresistibly to a flame, mortals flocked to this enchanting sanctuary, unable to resist the beckoning call that resonated deep within their hearts.
The first to behold the majestic sight of the divine tower were instantly captivated, their eyes brimming with tears of pure bliss as they gazed upon the manifestation of divinity. They approached it without a trace of fear or hesitation but rather with deep piety and reverence. The radiant light emanating from within the tower felt gentle and inviting, stirring a profound longing in their hearts to know its origin and the deity it represented.
And they delved deep into his story, absorbing every detail, and in turn, placed their faith in him. They genuflected before his statue, a creation of his own hands, pouring out their prayers and lighting a candle to pay homage. However, they dared not confine themselves within the sacred and hallowed walls of the tower. Instead, blessed by his presence, they decided to establish their homes around the tower's periphery. The land surrounding it possessed everything they could have desired and wanted—a true haven of abundance.
But as it goes, there were those who defied the norms and shone brightly like stars in the night sky. They didn't just passively witness his glory; instead, they longed to dedicate themselves to him, forever yearning to bask in his radiant presence.
In response, Apollo himself descended and welcomed their pledges, anointing them as his inaugural priests and priestesses. He imparted his wisdom, his truth, and his rites to them, and they eagerly absorbed his teachings, embracing them with their entire beings.
"Welcome all who embrace the touch of my light, should they wish it. Just as life ebbs and flows with the waxing and waning of my radiance, so does the world around us. Place your trust in my everlasting glow, and understand that those who dwell in love beneath my luminosity will receive my divine benediction. Seek solace in the light, and I shall be your unwavering beacon of truth."
Those were his last words to them, and they pledged to abide by them with unwavering devotion. Some chose to stay within the tower, for every priest and priestess had the privilege to do so. As for the rest, they departed from the tower's land, venturing on sacred quests to bear and disseminate the teachings of their Lord to anyone willing to embrace them across the known lands.
Apollo's sacred teachings embodied the purest ideals of volition, equality, impartiality, and justice. He didn't just suggest but commanded his devoted followers to actively promote and embody acceptance, equality, and understanding. According to his teachings, everyone, regardless of their differences, was to be treated as an equal, with open arms and open hearts within the faith.
Embracing equality naturally led to impartiality, as Justice, with his sightless eyes, recognized only the unadulterated truth as the ultimate measure of fairness. No privilege or prejudice could sway his scales; all were measured against the same weight.
But in this world, his teachings often fell on deaf ears. Yet, the devoted didn't mind. They continued on peacefully, seeking out those who were open to listening and believing. Gradually, Apollo's faith started to take root in the world, his name becoming known to all, and regardless of their stance on his teachings, they couldn't help but be intrigued by his story and the magnificent tower he constructed. It piqued their curiosity, and a few even took action, wagering their beliefs and embarking on a journey to witness the marvel for themselves.
And so it began. It was like a snowball rolling down a hill, gathering speed and growing bigger with each passing moment. It seemed unstoppable, at least for now. Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, a whole city sprouted up around the magnificent tower, and they named it Delphi in tribute.
Delphi, the Oracle of Apollo, that's where the name originated. They believed that the heart of the Celestial Sanctum held the very essence of its power. And the vessel for Delphi's spirit was the high-priestess, personally chosen by Apollo in recognition of their extraordinary talent. The selected woman was inducted and revered in the Apollonian Faith, for it was through them that Apollo spoke his prophecies, guiding them through the shadows of uncertainty.
The Oracle of Delphi, in the end, cemented the renown of the Celestial Sanctum. However, the tower concealed more than just a temple and an oracle. The faithful were aware of this, albeit only a handful of floors were accessible to them. Beyond that lay the domain of immortals, who came and went unnoticed by any mortal eye—even Apollo himself may live at the highest floor of the tower.
However, within the confines of these humble floors, almost everything they yearned for was offered in exchange for their unwavering devotion and dedication. These hallowed walls provided solace and inspiration, where art and intellect intertwined. Many sought divine inspiration within this space, immersing themselves in the pursuit of knowledge and creativity, believing that their endeavors were touched by the hand of Apollo and the Muses themselves.
Justice and order were also intrinsic to the tower's influence. The priests and priestesses upheld Apollo's laws, ensuring fairness and harmony. Disputes were brought before them, and judgements were made in accordance with the principles of righteousness, invoking the deities of Justice, Apollo, and Themis.
Furthermore, the divine tower honoured other deities associated with Apollo, including his mother, father, sister, grandmother, teacher, muses, and even Mania herself.
All in all, Celestial Sanctum acted as an irresistible beacon, radiating its light and drawing all towards it. Its allure extended not only to mortal beings but also to the immortals themselves. Beyond Olympus, the immortals were keenly aware of its existence, and news of Apollo's monument swiftly spread throughout the divine pantheons. Even those rarely inclined to engage with foreign pantheons couldn't ignore the powerful attraction emanating from the Tower.
Even the Shaper, above all others, acknowledged it as a dream brought into reality, carrying within it the potential to bring even greater things into the world.
Whether Apollo intended it or not, the existence of the divine tower set an example for immortals, especially for those who were aware of the dark times ahead. It offered them a beacon of hope, illuminating their way amidst the tempest of uncertainty. They embraced his radiant guidance with gratitude. However, as is often the case, not everyone reacted favorably to the news, and not all corners of the world welcomed it warmly. There were dissenting sentiments and differing opinions, but at this moment, they held little significance.
Apollo burned like the brightest flame in the world, leaving many to ponder: would he go on to become the brightest star in the sky or burn himself away in the end?
Nobody knows.
Now, you might be wondering: Where exactly was Apollo, and what was he up to at that very moment? Well, he wasn't in his tower, crafting prophecies and attending to prayers. He also wasn't on Olympus, coordinating enchanting performances with the Muses. The Palace of Justice didn't house him either, where he would typically collaborate with his teacher on laws and orders. He wasn't even in Hecate's cave, interrupting his cousin's guidance for his sister. And needless to say, he definitely wasn't in the throne room, offering advice to his father alongside Athena on various matters. Neither was he in Delos, enjoying the company of his mother, grandmother, and uncle. He wasn't in the Palace of Hearth either, engaging in delightful conversations with his aunt as she served all sorts of delectable treats. And he wasn't assisting Delirium, lending a hand with her recent endeavours with the fairies.
Instead, Apollo found himself reclining upon the lush, green fields of central Greece, his gaze unwaveringly fixed upon the vast expanse of the blue and crystalline heavens. Beneath the veil of concealment, he beheld a host of angels, audaciously soaring through his father's realm.
They barely spared him a glance, their attention fleeting and dismissive, barely recognising his existence. But in the midst of the host, a figure emerged, guiding them forward. This person had eyes as dark and profound as an endless abyss, and it was he who met his gaze head-on, nodding in acknowledgment.
His name was Azazel.
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