A golden sunset marked the beginning of a new age. The clouds were gone, and the stars were beginning to shine through the misty blue covers; the dawning of the tenth sweep. The birds were silent, the wind ceased its movement, and everything fell to a standstill. Time didn't seem to exist, and nature felt off. Quiet filled the nothingness of space, the only signs of life coming from the sun.
It was a rare occasion, many generations have never gotten to see this occurrence. The last known instances of these sweeps dates back to the very first civilization, a desert-dwelling town. The walls of the ancient temples and palaces were littered with pictures of these magical people, using their powers to help the Earth and it's inhabitants. They celebrated these people on the Autumn Equinox, the day of the solar sweep, holding elaborate feasts and dances for these 'gods.'
The magic died off within thirty years of the first sweep, living on only in stories and old carvings and paintings.
The second solar sweep happened in a prosperous nation, bringing chaos along with it. The citizens were thrown into unrest with this newfound power, and began to revolt against their rulers. The powerful warlord, Rangivar, demanded these magical people to be killed. In exchange for their deaths, the people who delivered the bodies of the magicians would be granted infinite honor and wealth. It changed the views of the people, leading to the millennium-old tradition of killing magicians.
It wasn't until the ninth sweep, when things became messy between the magicians and the regular humans. A human was gifted the power of death, a strong attribute for such a feeble human being. He misused his magic and used it to control the powerless, instilling fear into the hearts of the lower class. The power fought back, tainting the user until he fell under a permanent sleep, never to wake up until his body fell apart many years later. He was dubbed the 'Czar of Terror.' After the reign of the Czar, a new order was put into place, legalizing the lynching and bounties of magical users. This lead to conflicts between the archaic druids of the forests and moors, and the people. Thousands upon thousands of people were killed without reason, bringing with it the dark ages.
For another thousand years, the world was silent, the magical being marked down simply as figments of imagination and culture. They were named as 'gods' by historians, bringing the interest in their hunting to a close.
That is until the scientists made a remarkable discovery. Dr. Jennings Warbler, a professor of archaeology, created an experiment with Dr. Gambit Kingston, a renown astronomer. Together, they pieced together some bodies found in the ancient city of Halikatu. There, they discovered elaborate tombs, each decorated with detailed engravings of these magical people doing great deeds. Within three of these tombs, they had discovered untouched sarcophagi cradling people within them.
These skeletons were tested over and over, analyzed thoroughly by Warbler and Kingston, leading to no exponential findings. That is, until Warbler located a strange artifact within the tomb of the king. A broken piece of a tablet with carvings, such as writing, embedded into it. Warbler passed it on to his trusted advisor, reading the piece as;
"To those who....
Worship the golden eyes...
And may the sun guide you."
Excitement struck Warbler, and he knew what he had found at last. The specks of gold within the casket of the dead was not just metal, it was pieces of the sun!
He shared this news with his partner, preparing for a new array of tests. They gathered as much of the golden flecks as they could salvage, Kingston examining it closely.
It glowed and moved such as a ribbon when in contact with water and heat, and hardened to a powder when lying dormant.
A week later, Kingston fell dangerously ill and passed away, followed by Warbler's wife and eldest daughter. Warbler himself grew sick a month after the funerals for his wife and daughter, and passed away shortly after. Rumors flew around the world, addressing this as a 'curse' from the undead. Mass hysteria reigned once again, spreading like a plague amongst talkers and listeners alike.
People began believing in the sweeps again, and were anticipating the next one, eager to rid the world of the magicians again; and tonight was the night they've been waiting for.
The night turned dark, and the stars shined clearly, a select few twinkling in the indigo sky. There was a light, golden streak, looking as a ribbon of glitter and silk thread were cast into the sky.
As the ribbon began to disperse, the shimmering dust settled onto the earth below, painting the plants and animals in a beautiful tone of gold. It was a beautiful sight, many people sitting outside and watching this event. Children played with this dust, kicking it into the air just to watch it float back down to the earth like a fragile downy feather. Adults exchanged glances, eyes peeled for magicians that may soon appear, fearful for the safety of their families and themselves. For once, the world stood still, letting Mother Nature take the lead and guide them.
Coda was one of these people, sitting upon his front deck, enjoying the event and the moment he was living in. Everything felt right in the world, and everything looked positive from here on.
"Well, Coda, tonight's the night we find out if those silly stories are real," he heard a shaky, straining voice speak from beside him.
Glancing over, he noticed his great grandmother, hunched over the railing with her glasses on, running her finger through the golden dust piled upon the wood.
"I've lived ninety years to see this day," she chimed hopefully, her silver eyes locking onto Coda's light blue orbs, "I know it's going to be a good evening for everyone."
Coda laughed a little, pushing his se stray hairs out of his face and watching the smile on his great grandmother's face.
"I know, Grandma," Coda replied, having made his way over to her to put an arm around her shoulder.
Midnight came around, and the dust had vanished just as quickly as it had come, leaving some people disappointed. The nighttime bugs began chirping, the wind picked up, and life continued on as usual.
Coda spent the next few hours reading up on stories from the ancients, trying to piece together how the sweeps worked, or if the tales were even true to begin with. In his mind, he knew they weren't, but his heart tugged each time he denied it, begging him to believe in it; always bringing him right back to the pages of these books.
His father resented this interest, mocking his belief as some 'childish behavior.' To some degree, Coda knew he was right. Magic isn't real, and it can't be real. It was common knowledge that the tales of the sweeps, and the overly outrageous stories of gods and goddesses amongst humans was literature, not history. It still intrigued him, bringing on many hobbies of his own. He learned to decipher the codes of the Halikatu, reading the stones in the photos easily after many months and years of studying. His eyes lit up anytime new discoveries were made relating to these people and civilizations, sealing his title as a 'nerd' to those he isn't very close with. Coda didn't mind one bit, knowing as long as he is happy, that's all that matters.
The morning birds sounded clearer than before, sunlight brighter than ever, and the air feeling fresher and crisper than ever. Coda felt rejuvenated, even if he had only slept for a few hours the previous evening. His movements were youthful and spry, even if he was only nineteen years old. His mother sat at the kitchen table, reading the local newspaper, as his father cooked some bacon and toast, muttering on about the messy neighborhood kids, and how the garbage men were late the previous day.
"Darling, isn't it a little weird that it went quiet last night?" Coda's mother questioned, glancing over her shoulder towards his father, "I think it was a sign."
"A sign for what? It's just what happens when space does stuff like that. Solar eclipses? Don't you feel sleepy during them?" He replied, bringing the plates over to eat.
Coda sat down, pushing his dreadlocks behind his shoulders, reaching over the table to grab a hair tie.
"Coda, honey, if your dreads are too long just cut them off," his mother spoke quietly, looking over at Coda, who was tying his dreads back into a ponytail.
"No, no! They're totally fine like this! Just don't wanna get grease in them," Coda laughed as his response, his mother joining in.
"How can you manage those?" His father pointed out, gesturing towards his hair with his toast.
"I just think they're nice. Great grandma liked them, so I kept them," he picked at his food for a moment, taking bites slowly
"I could never pull those off," joked his father, leaning back a little as he laughed a hearty chuckle.
"That's because you're bald, hun," his mother retorted.
"So any news about magical people? Did the sun forget to bring superheroes with it this time?" His father teased, making motions towards the newspaper.
"Nothing yet, but it's too soon to know. The event happened just last night, we might have to wait until the Equinox for anything to pop up," Mother stated, setting the paper down.
"It's true, the powers tend to manifest on the first equinox after the sweep," Coda started, leaning a little into the story he was about to tell, "I don't know why that's the case, but it's written of many, many times in those books I've read."
"How convenient," Father murmured.
Breakfast ended early, Coda's mother and father branching apart to go to their respective jobs. Coda was left home alone with his great grandmother, of whom was asleep in her bedroom. He spent the morning searching news articles, hoping to hear something about these magicians. Any moment now, the world could change for the best or worst. He was yearning for something to happen. Anything.