Possible trigger warning

Once upon a time, there used to be a being with many wings. Many, many, many, wings, each with tens of thousands of shining feathers. The creator of this being often strove to make everything as vast and bright as this first one.

So the creator walked to the being, and asked for a feather. The being cut off, not one, but six of zeir wings, and held them out to the creator. And so another being was made, though with a lesser number of wings, infinitely brighter.

Now the creator wanted to make two more beings, so the first being now cut off four wings, and so a third and fourth being were made.

And so on went the cycle, the creator asking  and the being giving, till at last, the creator simply took a handful of feathers from the being each time they met.

And so on and so forth, more beings, each smaller than the last, were made, and each and every one was raised by the first being.

And so it happened, that one of the newer beings were hurt, but the first being offered one of zeir feathers. Word of this spread around, till each and every creation wanted a feather.

And so the first being, the Eldest, indulged them and plucked all the remaining wings, till all had their own feather. Never once did the being ask for a feather back, and never once did any offer to give, or wonder what the Eldest felt about this.

And so life continued, till the second being realised, that ze wanted another feather from the first being. And so ze went, and took. And following this lead, so took the fourth being. The first never uttered a word, but simply stood up and walked to a remote corner of the realm. None of the creations save the third gave this any thought.

For you see, the first being had lost all feathers, and had only a skeleton of a wing left, not that any knew.

And so it went, till at last, the creator came back to see zeir creations. However, when ze went to the Eldest for a few feathers, imagine zeir shock when ze didn't find the Eldest anywhere.

So the creator asked the second, third, and fourth beings.

"I know not!" Said the second, "The last I saw zer was when I went for these." And ze showed the feathers.

"I know not!" Said the fourth, "For the last I saw zer was when I as well, went for these." And ze also held out zeir feathers.

"I know!" Said the third, "But I will not speak!"

However the creator was the creator of the third being, and so the location was revealed.

And yet, when they went to the edge, all the four saw, were gold covered-rocks, and an old, old man-shaped being who held something in zeir hands.

The three creations halted, for the old one was Death. "Death!" Greeted the creator, "Have you seen my first creation anywhere here?"

Death's head tilted, and a smile came upon skinless face. "Oh, yes I have," said Death, still wearing eerie smile, "In fact, ze asked me to guide zer somewhere quiet, and asked me to give you this."

And Death held out what was in skeletal hands. The creator gasped.

The second being, now Eldest, made a curious noise, that humans who spoke 21st Century English would call a sob.

The fourth being made a sound that 21st Century English would describe as, a whimper.

While the third being simply took the gift and held it close, for if ze was being honest, ze saw it coming.

And so, the cruel friend of Time that Death was, Death gleefully narrated how the first being, the former Eldest, sat upon the rocks in zeir despair. Of the thousand tears shed, not for zeir wings, no, but for how ze no longer had any feathers to give.

The creator weeped for the first time, as did the now Eldest and fourth being. And yet, the third being said not a word, and moved not an inch, for ze had quite lost zeir warmth and froze.

And so Death continued, about how Death and Time walked up to the being and spoke of a way to attain peace in time. And then Death spoke of how the Eldest had shed golden blood, and how ze, with such pain in zeir eyes carved out a last gift, and yet still didn't cry.

And so walked away Death, to plane far from suffering, where sat a being formerly known as Eldest, within Time's arms, finally at peace.

Meanwhile in the third being's hands, a red heart still beat for a body and sentience long gone.

I believe, that to this day, that the heart still beats in the hands of the third, while the creator, the second, and the fourth beings still mourn for the first. The golden blood still stains the rocks, and the third still stands as a mountain.

And of course, Death still mocks all of them for allowing Death and Time to claim such a wonderous creature, and take it away.