The Seer Dove was no ordinary creature, nor was he an ordinary man.
Having said to possess eyes that gave him all-around sight and arms that extended down to his toes, there was obviously something wrong about him, one would wonder. Though it may not be so apparent, for everywhere he went—everywhere he was seen—he adorned fine silks and imported jewels that had been tributary gifts from the likes of kings and noblemen for his patronage to humankind.
And he knew he would not disappoint.
Katill Broiis itself was that proof. The citadel had been built exactly to his preferences because in the murky past, it had also been a gift, jointly shared by him and Aashurhallal, the true name of the revered Domme Tirkju'a.
To the known world, they were Gods among a world dominated by men.
The Sijarkes had known of the Parrhadomme's solitary nature. There was simply nothing to doubt. He had sought a home in the farthest reaches of his tower, the Empiirjaan, far above the rest of the known world—so high up in the sky that you could see the Eastern nest of Ori'ehem looming in the horizon.
But unfortunately, she paid him no visit since her last. And all this time of having been living there, she had waited. Yet no invite came, no matter how badly she wanted to go.
But there was one now. And oddly enough, she remembered the view from her first visit to the Empiirjan, when she was just a mere toddler. Crawling through the entirety of the island as far as the eye could see upon ascending was an intercrossing of pathways separated by hedges that highlighted the beauty of Katill Broiis. The best she could remember of it was the perspectives surrounding the tower itself, and she had—as a toddler—taken her liberties with reveling in the view.
In all her years of being what was an overseer of the mundane nature of the island, she figured that there would not be a scene like it—not anywhere else in Katill Broiis especially, and never in her life again, where things are going. She had to commit it to memory or it will be lost in the centuries to come—should nothing change in the island.
Ascending towards the highest level itself was unconventional; it was no easy feat. The stairs lead directly to the Dove's dwelling, a paradise of a garden in the heavenly skies. The Sijarkes followed the same path she took thousands of years ago to see the Dove once more. However, this time, she was not accompanied by the Tirkju'a.
"Do not look down," he had advised her once, offering her his hand so that she would never wander too far, and so she may keep close to him; she didn't mind it one bit, she had loved him before. She had never wanted to part from him, even.
But she was also sick of him. He was not fun to be with. And whatever the reason was for the Dove to call her up after so long, she knew this would not have been so if it weren't for the Tirkju'a and his rumored disappearance, prompting the Dove to call upon the one who was considered to be his one and only proper student. Holding back her questions would be too much to ask for she knew she would slip up easily. It has been so long, after all. Too many questions left unanswered, still in the air.
To have those reconciled is to take thousands of steps up in the sky and meet her mysterious benefactor, the master of the Tirkju'a, the source of the Domminical Order's powers—the one to whom all their tributary states show due reverence to.
As she climbed on, an understanding came to as to why others were not permitted to ascend the tower; it was where the Shaman Dove had been living for the last three thousand years, originally a gift offered by the ancient peoples of the coasts of ancient Haradoj-ka'e. It was not a mere myth that he had built the very tower itself all on his own, laying down brick after brick even as the sun beat down on him, or when rain came to wash away the remnants of what was then.
Sensing first, as she neared the highest floor, strong and rich—a scent of the earth; flowers, herbs, dirt, and all those sorts. Up in the sky? The Sijarkes was almost reluctant to believe her senses were off, because even a whole floor level below where she was now, it was even undeniably noticeable.
She was sensitive to such a thing, but she could bear it enough to satiate her curiosity for what lay ahead—or really, who lay ahead.
When she had readjusted her green wig of plated curls, and scraped her heeled sandals against the tiling, she felt she was ready now to enter unto the Dove's domain. The scent grew stronger—a rich earthly scent full of life and joy.
Unveiling the curtains, she found herself in a garden, rich and whole.
"This midnight marks your 2501th year in Katill Broiis," a voice bellowed from above, sending a warmth through the air the likes of which the Sijarkes never before knew. She paced back, unsure of how to respond. She willed herself to look up and about, but found no body to attribute the voice to.
The voice continued, "No need to be so bashful. No need." It descended slowly from behind a group of palms, a sculpted figure in the shape of a man with six wings that fluttered on, blowing gentle gusts of wind towards the entrance where the Sijarkes stood, amazed—and mostly paralyzed—at the brilliance of the Dove man's physical manifestation whose very murals could stand no testament to its majestically bright beauty.
It swooped down, a braided mass of hair trailing behind, its signature looped end fluttering about with the breeze.
"I don't mean to frighten nor intimidate, never. It's me, the Parrhadomme," it spoke gently.
The Sijarkes was never mistaken in the first place. This was indeed the Dove, her neighbor. Nevertheless, it did not take away from the fear welling in her chest—or it could've been anxiety—for all she knew, the Dove could gobble her up right here and then if he had truly intended so.
Instead, the Dove flew to her face, hovering directly in front of hers, only less than a meter away. He watched her intently with all his eyes, his glee escaping from the creases.
"Isn't it beautiful?"
"What is?" asked the Sijarkes in turn.
"My garden. Don't you find it beautiful? You are one of the few who ever got to lay your eyes upon it. A good number of these are imported from faraway lands, and up here they remain fresh and evergreen," the Dove gasped, flying through the paradise he had built since before the Sijarkes knew him. He moved gracefully, knowing every nook and cranny by heart that he did not stop once to second guess in which way he flew towards—he just knew.
"Breathe it all in, I implore you! I can hear your heart beating, too. The garden scent shall bring you calm before we speak."
The Sijarkes guessed he was not of a serious nature as the Tirkju'a had been, and was pleased to be welcome in at ease—and by such an amiable creature—that she felt even a jolly frolic around the grass would not be so bad at all.
"You are as good as they say, Dove," the Sijarkes remarked gleefully.
And so the Sijarkes obeyed him.
As she frolicked about, the strongest scent she could pick up on was that of lilacs and traces of orange blossoms from springtime, nearly overpowering the scent of the trees and palms that lined the gardens. Above, the ceiling opened wide to the sky, clear and open to the passing seasons, and the light trickled in generously so that the Sijarkes felt she was dancing with the sun. She felt herself laugh.
She hasn't felt herself laugh in a while. She let it bubble up to the surface, and throwing her head back, she smiled at the Dove who was now fluttering high above, casting faint shadows down below the soft, green grass.
She never once doubted the sort of wonders she would find atop the Empiirjan—and it did not disappoint at all!
"You should've invited me earlier!"
He hummed, pleased with her compliance.
"A neighborly treat," the Dove responded warmly. "No doubt, you must be wondering why I asked for you. Were you lonely? No doubt you were. I had been thinking of how you were faring since the Tirkju'a vanished."
At this, the Sijarkes stopped in her joyful merriment. She felt a serious face washing over her smiles, and though she did not like it one bit, she was not going to let this moment pass. "Whatever it is that you ask, I'll do it. No questions asked." She made sure to clench her fists in a manner so intently that the sight of them would be enough to prove how seriously she was taking all this.
The Dove had picked up on it, and it chose to think for a moment before it hummed.
"If it's urgent, please. I'd be foolish not to act so soon if there is anything I could do," the Sijarkes insisted further.
The Dove, to her surprise, was rather still and almost suspicious. "You're right. But how important do you think this is?"
The Sijarkes responded that it must be, for it had never once asked her to come visit, not once in 2500 years. When it admitted that it was serious, she had thought it was alright to ask about where the Tirkju'a stands in all this, and of his state, to which the Dove only said:
"This is about you. I am concerned about you, little Sijarkes."
She asked no more of the Tirkju'a. Her attention turned instead to what will lie ahead of her, what sorts of things the Dove had in mind. At the end of the day, her fate was in the Dove's hands, and she had already spent her entire life waiting on that command, on even just one word that could change her circumstances.
"What about me?" the one question she'd always ask the Tirkju'a—now she was turning it to the one who held all of the Order under its wings.
"What about you? What have you got under you? You had been left unsupervised for the last two years."
"It has been two thousand five hundred years." The Sijarkes felt the years were long and unbearable, and almost wasted. "Has been."
The Sijarkes never thought she was unsupervised at all. She had been taken care of to about the same degree as when the Tirkju'a had his regular visits. But the Parrhadomme had insisted on its feelings, advanced on this so much that its had proposed the very thing she never thought she'd hear in her entire life:
"I can see your eagerness and determination to serve me; it has further strengthened my decision that by this Ki Heptre 3734, you shall serve as the new Tirkju'a' and Sijarkes to the Order."