Ayeka, the Byzantine Icon?
Ryoko was not one to be pinned down where Yousho wanted her. Every time he cornered her and attempted to force a battle, she had another hiding place, another corner of the galaxy toward which she could race her infernal death ship. It took several years of maneuvering, but Yousho finally herded her toward the battleground of his choosing: Earth's Solar System. He concealed Funaho behind one of Jupiterâs moons.
Sitting in his study, he paused with his brush over the back of a portrait, his sisterâs, this time. Behind it he wrote her name several times, each in a different script. Japanese. Latin. Greek. It went on. If he was to live on Earth, he needed to learn its languages. Japan would come first, but surely he would travel farther.
A blast rattled the ship. He dropped his work and ran to the bridge. Ryoko had launched a surprise attack, and it was stronger than he had anticipated. He would make certain it was her last escape.
Hours later, while pursuing Ryo-Ohki, Funaho plunged into Earthâs atmosphere.
The inhabitants of a now long-forgotten village near Kyiv looked up to see not one but two enormous fiery meteors streaking eastward in unison across the night sky. They shivered.
An omen from God, but of what?
Somewhere above the western forests, Funahoâs shields flickered. For a moment, the damaged study lay open to the atmospheric winds.
The next morning, Ihnat, a simple local man, followed the trail of the twin comets through the forest. The others asked the local pop what the apparition meant. He replied vaguely but apocalyptically, warning of impending punishment for sin.
Ihnat was dissatisfied with the rote answer he had heard throughout his life. Surely God had left some clue?
He walked the path for hours, to the horizon and back again, retracing his steps. The next day he returned. And the next. Again and again, he followed the same route, searching for something he could not name.
By the third day, his legs ached, and he thought of his neglected home and the work awaiting him there. Surely he should turn back.
He was descending a hill when the wind rose and the leaves began to flutter. Something waved at him from among the bushes.
It was a drawing upon a sheet of paper, a material he had seen only in the hands of monks. Yet the figure portrayed upon it was unlike any sacred figure he had ever seen.
He had found his sign and what a beautiful sign it was. He quickly stowed that thought away, bowed his head, and crossed himself.
The picture passed through the village church and eventually arrived at the Kyiv-Pechersk Lavra. Wet and singed around the edges, it had seen better days. The monks examined the image and then carefully turned it over.
The writing was foreign.
But âAECAâ?
One elderly monk suggested that it might be Ayekah, from the Hebrew â×Öˇ×ÖśÖź×Ö¸Öź×.â Was it a reference to Genesis? It was the question God had put to Adam:
âWhere are you?â
But that did not explain the figure.
The monks studied the strange image daily. Then a second portrait arrived. It bore the same writing, but in this one the woman stood beside a majestic, impossibly vast tree, holding what could only be described as a sword of fire.
Surely it was the Tree of Life?
The second image was even more badly damaged. Soon after its arrival, it crumbled into dust in the abbotâs own hands.
The first portrait did not appear likely to fare much better. It remained untouched upon the table while the abbot summoned the monasteryâs finest iconographers and ordered them to copy it immediately.
After days of dispute, the brethren reached a fragile consensus. The immense tree, the flowering plants, the flaming sword, the hand of benediction, the supernatural red eyes, and the word Ayekah all pointed toward one conclusion:
The unnamed Guardian of the Gate of Paradise, appointed to guard the way to the Tree of Life and prevent Adam and Eve from returning to Eden.  Some later Western traditions would identify her as the Archangel Jophiel.
The abbot opened a letter from his superior, Metropolitan Maximus. Acre, capital of the remnant Kingdom of Jerusalem, had fallen.
He lowered the letter and looked again at the red-eyed woman. Perhaps the letters upon the back were not merely a name. Perhaps they were the question now being put to all Christendom:
âAECA.â
âWhere are you?â
And so, centuries before Earth had a word for it, Princess Ayeka Masaki Jurai received her first piece of fan art.
@nebulous-lalochezia
