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Part One

The Song of a Saint

EightYears Ago

North gritted his teeth as the staggering, sparkling pain seared over his body. It was like the touch of a tickling feather if it were dipped in fire as it burned and seared and singed along his skin. The magic would conceal his constellation tattoos along his left forearm, making it appear as if the flesh was bare and leave him with the appearance of a mortal. But the rippling wave of enchantments stung like a beast as he took on the human form of the Saints.

The sting dulled the sapphire glimmer of his eyes, the black glow to his hair and the ethereal buzz around him. It made him look perfectly normal in every sense of the word, as much as humanly possible of course. He would keep his magic, his sense ofbeingthe Northern Star, but he would not look it.

A game of hide and seek within plain sight.

Call it boredom, call it insanity, but the Saints wanted to play in the world of mortals.

All six of them.

Well, the main onesanyways.

One had already taken her place on the earth, residing in it for more than two decades. Now the rest would join her.

The lesser Saints were permanently scattered throughout the world of Hisaith however, destined to rule as greater beings with mortal skins. They were the product of Saint and mortal relations. Which were far more common than they should have been, hence why they didn’t go down in records of any sorts.

Only the six who sired them did.

Dream lowered her hands from his bicep, smiling gorgeously down at him. “All done.” She flicked a hand through the floor-length hair that tumbled into a pool of silver by her bare feet.

“Perfect.” North muttered. He eyed himself in the tall reflective surface that stood only a few feet away. It was incredible to witness the transformation, to see the small differences that allowed him to better fit into the puzzle of people without standing out. His sharp corners had been rounded to fit the mortal mould perfectly.

Within the mirror, if it could even be called that, he saw his new form. His glimmering, golden brown skin was now a regular tone of light russet. His hair was umber, so dark that it almost looked like the colour of night. There were still the starling sparkles of amber in his eyes that would never be dulled, no matter the amount of imaginative power that Dream used. The same magic that she sprinkled into the realm of slumber, to create the very reason for her namesake. Hence why she’d been the one to transform them, hide them away instead of any of the others.

North eyed himself in the mirror again, gauging how much had changed. He could pass for thirty-two, if no one tried to look too deep. There was only so much dampening that could hide an eternal youth.

North frowned as he took in the new addition.

“I added some facial hair to help hide that chiselled chin of yours.” She commented at his confused examination and gestured towards the barely-there dusting of hair that graced his chin, over his lips and met his hairline by his ears.

“So I see.” He studied it, unused to the feeling of something covering his cheeks. “I suppose it will have to do.”

“Haveto do?” Her voice lilted, a sour expression coming over her lovely face. “I made youmoreattractive. Muse has been telling you for years to grow it out, and now you have it. Take it for a test run, see what the mortals think.”

Another Saint snorted in the corner.

“Muse has remained in Hisaith for far too long. The mortal world is affecting her.” He chuckled lightly, dragging a hand through his short hair. She hadn’t changed anything other than the colour, but he liked how the slight brown tint complimented his darker complexion.

“Stay in anything for too long and it will affect you.” Dream expressed with an all too wise tenor, sighing wistfully as if sleep had fallen over her lean shoulders and cast her into a beautiful daydream.

“Including love.” Heartache interjected with a sombre, raw tone, making his way over to Dream and hooking his arm over her. “That is the worst.”

“Says the one in charge of feelings, emotions and hearts. Where’s that mortal lover of yours now, Heartache?” She scoffed but placed her hand upon his scarlet clad shoulder in return. “Ready?”

“Gone.”

It was depleted, dead, bitter.

North studied his fellow immortal, scanning his handsomely rugged features to see some sign that would give any other emotionaway, to look past the surface. He couldn’t find anything, not a single drop. Strange for the being, but not completely unexpected considering he represented the emotions and their tedious control.

“I’m ready.” Heartache nodded once and she closed her golden-star eyes, focusing on the rattling glamour that would take over him with ease. Mist began to drift from her fingers as she began again, transforming Heartache to take up his once-mortal shell after he’d returned from a long stint in Hisaith. He’d come back for a year, only to dejectedly agree to play once more, as long as he didn’t have to be in Tazali.

The Warrior, and the Imp had already sat patiently and received their mortal shells, having flitted about to the Empire of Tazali to find Muse. They’d all agreed that sticking close together would be best to keep an eye out for each other, to make sure they blended in seamlessly.