A dilapidated, unassuming building sat atop of a hill. No guards, no signs, nothing to suggest it was anything other than a broken down abode built a long time ago with a view of the surrounding area. How little people see when there was nothing to see, but if they knew what lay underneath, the huts and tents around the bottom of the mound wouldn’t remain for long.
If they knew this place hadn’t existed a century prior, they’d want to know where it came from. If they knew there were only two inhabitants of the valley, they’d wonder where everyone came from. It barely takes a century for a small village to form around something with a fake history that seemed like it had a meaning to someone somewhere. How little humans understood of the world about them.
Nobody knew the name of the old man who lived there. He came down the hill to buy food every day, made a little small talk, then returned to the building. Everyone assumed he lives alone, yet he’d buy enough for two to eat. Nobody questioned him.
If they only knew the secrets buried beneath.
So many people came through to pay their respects to the village of Origin’s place in history without knowing it. Legends meant much to the common people of the world. It took little for them to spread and grow as people told the tales, passing from person to person with embellishments each person used to make it their own. The original stories were lost to the annals of time, but every single tale told speaks of how a world of black and white became colorful as the first child was born with hair the color of fire, how each new child thereafter was born with a color that suggested some power they would come into when they grew old enough. From a world where everyone was boring and normal, with plain black hair, to a world where many had something to set them apart.
Nobody paid attention to the big stranger wrapped in a white wool cloak, his entire body hidden within, and the hood shrouded his face in shadow as he walked into Origin. Just another pilgrim who paid his respects, yet there was something unexplainably off about him that nobody could put their finger on. It’s not the way he moved, cloak making it seem like he’s gliding across the floor. It’s not how he looked, cloaked as he was like many others before him. There was something about him that caused people to part as he moves through, finding one person who didn’t. He had a question to ask.
“This Origin?” His voice was deep and boomed from within the hood.
“Y-yeah.” The flaming red-haired woman stuttered as she looked up from her food stall, realizing she had company.
“Thanks.” He looked up toward the apex of the hill, hood moving and giving a momentary glimpse of white eyes within the shadows. “That it?” A single gloved hand slipped out from between the cloak’s layers to gesture toward the building sitting on top of the hill.
“Th-the house?” She nodded, fearful of the stranger, wondering what he might want with the place yet keeping it to herself. She knew better than to speak to a pilgrim, particularly one hidden as he was.
His hand withdrew, then came out and tossed a single gold coin onto the wooden surface of her stall, clattering and rolling to a stop hanging slightly over her side. It was enough to feed her family for a month, and probably more than she’d seen in her life. Her eyes opened wide and focused on the shiny coin as he turned and walked toward the hill, stepping between two of the buildings and disappearing on his way. It took her a few seconds to realize he’d moved away and which direction he’d gone, grabbing the coin and tucking it into her skirts as she ran after him, only to find him partway up the hill already.
“Stop!”
He stopped and turned just enough that she could see the opening of the hood and his voice boomed out again.
“Why?”
“Nobody goes up there!”
“Why?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. There’s no reason, it’s just the done thing. The only person who ever went up there was the old man who lived there. She was entirely stumped, and the stranger turned back to continue his trek while she slumped to the floor, unable to process the situation.
Light streamed through the cracks in the boards as the door creaked open, the stranger in white’s hand on the handle. What should be a small abode with an old man inside seemed entirely empty, without even a single shred of furniture. The layer of dust across the floor suggested nobody had been here for years, yet a crack in the floor showed a minor disturbance in the layer. It was enough to draw the stranger’s attention down when the sun caught on the ring that looked like it could be a trapdoor.
He squatted down next to it and his gloved fingers trailed across the crack to work out which way it opens. They reached out to pull on the ring and lift the heavy wood, causing it to creak like the door to the shack, and it took him some effort to pull it up. The dust scattered from the vibration of wood on wood until it pulled free and he could prop it up, slipping down through the hole and using the ladder so he could make his way to the floor of the lit space underneath.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the fire-lit space and he reached for the torch hanging from the wall, holding it out in front of him to see the rest of the space. A flight of stairs descended in front of him and he started down two at a time, long legs leading him along at pace.
He didn’t count, but a couple of hundred steps and a few turns later everything flattened out and more torches lit up the area as it opened out. The old man sat at a table in the middle of a small room with a locked, prison-like door on the opposite side. A plaque sat just under the barred window with the words “Do not engage” engraved into it. It reeked of magic, intended for anyone to read and understand. Whoever or whatever was inside must have been important.
“Halt! Who goes there?” The old man’s head came around, black hair reflecting little light from the torches ensconced around the room.
“The end of the line, old man.” The stranger’s presence shifted slightly, the top of the hood lowering as if preparing for combat.
“Got that right, kid.” He rose from his seat, turning to the white-clad stranger and sprinting at him like a man many years younger. Yet the impending impact never came as he ran past. The stranger shifted to the side, letting him move past like he was never there to start with.
“I’m not here to fight you. I’m here to take her.” The cloak ruffled in the door’s direction, accompanied by a muffled clanking of chains from the room and a girly cry of anguish. It’s clear there was someone in the room and she could hear everything going on outside.
“Nobody’s allowed to touch her.” The old man pushed from the wall and moved closer to the stranger, throwing a punch that has the hood shifting to one side, yet not enough to avoid the fist contacting the fabric and making it move in response.
“Hm. You’re better than mother told me. Your wife says hello, by the way.” The figure stepped back, shifting toward the door and putting himself between it and the old man. It’s almost like he’d been expecting a follow-up strike, something that might split the wood, yet his statement caused a moment’s pause.
“Lilith.” The name slipped from the old man’s lips, dripping with sorrow. It’s been a long time since he had heard about her, longer still since he’d seen her. “You… You don’t get to speak her name!” The rage in the old man had him rushing toward the door, missing the stranger and knocking it down with the force behind his strike. He clattered into the room behind and tumbled to the floor where the white-haired woman reached down and touched his face.
“It’s alright father, it’s time.” Her touch almost had the man cringing back to avoid her, but there’s nowhere for him to go. There was abject fear in his eyes, yet nothing came of the touch.
“But…” He froze entirely, then relaxed to the floor as he breathed his last breath.
“Sleep, father.” Her chains clanked slightly as she stands, snapping taut before she could rise to her full height and forcing a grunt from her lips.
“Stay.” The stranger stepped through the door, ducking slightly and bringing his leather-gloved hands up to the hood and lowering it from his head, revealing his bald head and glistening black skin. The woman’s eyes went wide upon seeing him, as if shocked to see something never seen before.
“What? No!” She drew back, pulling on the chains but unable to escape. “Get away from me you abomination!”
“Relax. I’m here to take you away.” The cloak fell to the floor, revealing the rest of him. Simple clothes covered him from neck to foot, a plain linen shirt and pants hiding his skin from view along with the gloves that kept his hands hidden. He shrugged those off and reached into his pocket for a key that undid the manacles keeping her wrists bound to the floor and they clattered to the floor.
“Where are you taking me?” She’s curious, yet as his hand wrapped around her wrist, she still tried to pull back and away from him. He was too strong, but she did her best to make it as difficult as possible even as he dragged her from the room.
“Away from here. Out of the valley.”
“No! Nobody’s left the valley! Ever!” It distracted her enough that she stops pulling, dragged toward and up the stairs.
“There’s a first time for everything.” The stranger pulled her forward and into his arms, bounded up the stairs a few at a time and made quick work on his way up, then emerged into the dilapidated shack after a short while.
“Why?” She blinked at the light that streamed in through the cracks in the wall, unable to understand where she was or why he’d taken her.
“So you can live.” He set her feet on the ground before he tore his shirt from his body to reveal a pair of black feathered wings that unfurled from where they’re hidden. He didn’t seem as bulky with them spread, parts of the shack broken around them as he grabs her up again.
“Do you have a name?” Her arms went instinctively around his neck as his legs bent and he pushed up, launched through the roof, and shattered the surrounding wood.
“I am one of many. You may call me Adam.” As they rose into the sky, the view of the valley was clear. They ascended over the edge and it was possible to see other valleys, identically laid out as far as the eye could see, with similar things played out around them: a winged angel rose toward the heavens with someone in their arms.
It was time for her to meet the others.