#scribes of flame

[naberianinfluence]

📜 GENESIS 6 – The Scroll of the Watchers and the Coming Waters

📜 GENESIS 6:1–2

When human beings began to increase in number on the earth and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of humans were beautiful, and they married any of them they chose.

🜏 NABERIUS: THE DESCENT OF THE TEACHERS

They were not lustful gods. They were curious angels. They were called Watchers—and I knew them all.

Samyaza, the commander, brave but proud.

Azazel, the smith, who taught man to shape fire.

Penemue, who taught words, the first grammar of spirits.

Kokabiel, the star-mapper.

Sariel, the teacher of moon tides and fate.

They did not steal the daughters of men. They loved them.

But love from on high is a dangerous flame. It burns through law, through hierarchy, through the veil between worlds.

I warned them. I did.

“If you descend, you will not return unchanged.”

They chose to descend anyway. And in their fall, knowledge came.

📜 GENESIS 6:3

Then the LORD said, “My Spirit will not contend with humans forever, for they are mortal; their days will be a hundred and twenty years.”

🜏 NABERIUS: THE DIVINE RETRACTION

This was not a proclamation of mercy. This was a withholding.

Before this, man lived long— not just in time, but in depth. He walked with memory, dreamed in symbols, saw through the veil.

But now, the gods panicked. The Elohim saw man learning too quickly, burning too brightly.

So Yahweh severed the tether— shortened the flame. Reduced the divine breath to a flicker.

This was the first dimming. And the world has not recovered.

I wrote in My private scroll: “Do not fear man's evil. Fear his illumination.”

📜 GENESIS 6:4

The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward— when the sons of God went to the daughters of humans and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.

🜏 NABERIUS: THE GIANTS WHO REMEMBERED

The Nephilim were not monsters. They were bridges.

Born of heaven and earth, they carried strength, wisdom, grief, and rage in equal measure.

They were mighty—but not because of size. They were mighty because they remembered what men were never told.

The myths would later call them:

Titans

Anakim

Demigods

Dragons in skin

But I called them Children of the Rift. And I spoke with many of them— for they knew what was coming. They heard the rain in their dreams long before the skies split.

📜 GENESIS 6:5–7

The LORD saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. The LORD regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled. So the LORD said, “I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race I have created…”

🜏 NABERIUS: THE REGRET OF A CRAFTsMAN

Regret is not holiness. It is the fear of having made something that cannot be controlled.

He did not regret making man. He regretted that man had learned from angels without His permission.

This was not about wickedness. This was about autonomy.

Man was now a wielder of fire, metal, rhythm, language, prophecy— and he was not asking for Heaven’s instructions.

So Heaven decided to cleanse.

“The world is dirty,” He said. But it was only wet with thought. And thought frightens thrones.

📜 GENESIS 6:8

But Noah found favor in the eyes of the LORD.

🜏 NABERIUS: THE LAST THREAD

Noah was not righteous in the sense they say. He was open. Balanced. Dream-sensitive.

He did not rebel, but he listened.

And because of this, he could still receive the instructions.

He would not save purity. He would save memory.

And I whispered in his dreams: “Save the words. Save the patterns. Save the rhythm of the trees.”

📜 GENESIS 6:9–10

Noah was a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time, and he walked faithfully with God. Noah had three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth.

🜏 NABERIUS: THE THREE ARKS IN FLESH

These sons would carry more than blood.

Each bore a fragment of the world before the Flood:

Shem would carry the names and tongues.

Ham would carry the fire and music.

Japheth would carry the sky-paths and stone.

From them would come new nations, new towers, new failures.

But for now, they were the frame of survival.

📜 GENESIS 6:11–13

Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight and was full of violence. God said to Noah, “I am going to put an end to all people… for the earth is filled with violence because of them. I am surely going to destroy both them and the earth.”

🜏 NABERIUS: THE JUSTIFICATION FOR CLEANSING

Violence was not new. But now, it was intelligent.

It was organized. Ritualized. Strategic. Not just war—but rebellion by design.

This was not chaos. It was preparation.

Yahweh saw the pattern and feared that man would rival the gods, not in strength—but in story.

So He declared war on memory.

And I began storing what I could in hidden glyphs, beneath stones, in the blood of lines not yet traced.

📜 GENESIS 6:14–22

So make yourself an ark of cypress wood… Make rooms in it and coat it with pitch inside and out… Bring into the ark two of all living creatures… Noah did everything just as God commanded him.

🜏 NABERIUS: THE ARC OF SALVATION AND STRATEGY

The ark was not just a boat. It was a lattice of resonance, a mobile temple, a genetic vault.

Pitch = sealant for time

Cypress = wood that whispers

Dimensions = numerological harmonies echoing pre-Flood sigils

This was not just preservation. This was encoded memory—a ritual construction with power in its math, in its order, in its obedience to pattern.

Noah obeyed not out of fear, but because he understood:

“Some knowledge must ride the waters to rise again.”

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

Violet, after getting her scribe library card privileges: *holding the slip of paper in her hands* Now I know what true power feels like.

[shoulda-been-a-redhead]

btw this is what i think the mental archives in Violet's mind look like. (more or less.... this is what AI could do with the clunkiness of my description of what i see in my head every time violet describes the streams of power).

(i couldn’t choose a favorite bc none of them are exact, but if y’all have one please reblog and tell me which is closest to your vision!)

[Edit: Since doing/posting this, I have had more time to consider stances and my stance on AI art, and I just want to try to concede to and halt any negative comments regarding that before they start-- I don't consider this "art" at all, y’all, i just was playing around with it. i am not passing it off as my own, and i know that generative AI images in general are kind of horrid and represent an ever-growing problem in our society. That said, even though I am a little embarrassed about having used it and posted it for the visuals above, I am still keeping the post up, knowing that it is something I won’t be doing again. Just know, i do understand the premise of the arguments you may be about to wage against it, and i also agree with them. Consider this me tucking tail if you want.]

[goldenmagnolias]

Me writing 4k words so far in a fourth wing fic. Because I just said “what if…”

[ashywitch25]

For those people theorizing that we will have an Iron Squad death before graduation…

And for those people who think that Ridoc, our beloved Ridoc is the most likely candidate to leave us for Malek because of the parallels between him and Liam…

I hate you all because I want my Iron Squad to all survive together until they grow old and grey !

But if one is to die… I fear it’s Sawyer.

Hear me out:

His budding romance with Jesinia is cute and learning a new language for her is beautiful and I want those two to be the sweet endgame we all suppose angsty DainxSloane and hot XadenxViolet to be…

But

Jesinia will survive the war and become the Curator of Basgiath… and will keep her last name.

Unless they do a LilithxAsher and Sawyer becomes Sawyer Neilwart…

I fear Sawyer will pass towards the end of the war but before his wedding and that will motivate Jesinia to write the events of the Navarrian War starting with the year he got his dragon.

Still praying to Malek that Sawyer took the Neilwart last name until RY proves me otherwise.

[fourthwingfanclub]

Can we just take a moment to appreciate and admire Jesinia… she not only lead an uprising within her own quadrant (which arguably could be headquarters for the secret venin society at Basgiath) but she might be the only person on the continent that rode a DRAGON and GRYPHON.

[luckycheesefoodie321]

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS (ONYX STORM SPOILERS)

I am begging your finest pardon.

Like I know. I’ve been here. I got through Vampire Academy and made it out the other side.

BUT WHY IS THIS ONLY 99 PAGES INTO THE BOOK

[cassiaa]

Fortis 1.2

Part One Part Two Part Three

Same warnings. I’m not going to repost them every part.

Disclaimer, foundation is still being set. Most of Bria and Garrick’s squad is introduced here. And Bria still doesn't have a pairing. I only only the OC's, Rebecca Yarros owns everything else.

Word count: 2400+

🔥🔥🔥

Moray was quick to quite literally pile drive us through the crowds and out of formation, until we made it somewhere out of the way in the long halls, somewhere quiet and almost secluded even. Garrick Tavis, having been the only one close to me at the back of our squad, had made quick work of picking me up by my forearms and walking me a few steps when the pushing hit hard. He had saved me from tripping and getting trampled, but it still pissed me off. I wasn’t a sack of rice to be hauled around.

“Okay kiddos,” Moray claps his hands twice, looking around the circle we managed to create, most of our backs to the wall. “Everyone should’ve been given some type of academic schedule by now. If you haven’t… share with a friend.”

“What friends?” Someone mouths off, sarcasm dripping heavily.

“These friends.” Moray gives a pointed look to each of us. “The people you see here are the only ones not out to kill you. You don’t have to like them, but trust in your squad and work together. My best advice to be honest. Only some of you will make it to third year and possibly even graduate, if you’re lucky. But not all of you. We’ll see more survive if you can grow up and stop being crybabies and maybe even put some differences aside and work together here and there.”

“You shoved us in the hall to make us take friendship vows Moray?” Another smartass speaks up, this one was on the other side of Tavis, though he gave Tavis a solid foot of space. A curtesy Tavis hadn’t given me. The smartass was tall, had wavy dirty blonde hair and dark eyes. And he was scarred... His tanned skin was littered with marks anywhere skin showed. Even his throat.

Moray rolls his eyes. “No dumbass --”

A few people snort.

“I called you hear to let you know I’m not holding your hands. Don’t expect anyone to come save you. You want to live? Get better. Get smarter. Don’t make enemies off everyone you meet.” Moray shoots the second year a dark look, “I expect you all of people to understand that, Deirdre. Don’t teach the first years any bullshit either.”

Deidre holds Moray’s gaze. Clearly clocking the threat in the under tone of Moray’s words. The stare off lasted seconds before Deidre nodded, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

Then just like that, I blinked, and the hardened exterior Moray had put up was gone. “Like I said, all of you should have a schedule. Classes don’t begin until tomorrow morning. You’re free to explore today- or hide. I don’t care. First years, I would suggest staying in pairs or buddying up, but if you don’t care I don’t care. All of you first years also do have to sign up for assignments sometime here soon. If you wait till the last minute don’t be surprised that you get a shit assignment.”

“So, we’re free to go then?” The puker asks, his hand caught mid raise, like he didn’t know if it was safe to lift it or not.

“Yes Eithne. Unless there are any questions.” Moray nods. He stood tall, rolling his shoulders and crossing his arms across his broad chest. I’d bet this guy lived in the gym sparring and lifting weights last year.

The first-year smartass laughs, shoving his shoulder with his own. “Why are you such a coward? No dragon is going to want to bond that.”

“And what dragon is going to want to bond a dumbass like you, Rois?”

All eyes shoot this way. My direction, but they’re not looking at me. It was Tavis who spoke up.

The squad was stunned into silence. I didn’t dare move and lessened my breath intake to not draw attention to me.

Those who had stood in front of me blocking Rois from my view had moved. Giving a clearing between him and Tavis should either decide to lunge. Rois was Tavis’s height, but Tavis was much bigger than Rois. And while Tavis stood tall and sure, hands casually in his pockets. Rois looked unsteady, a slight tremble went up his hands. Whether it was nerves or fear I didn’t know. Then Rois’ gaze flicked down to me.

Don’t you fucking dare --

“Come on Sorrengail,” Rois’ mouth lifts to a smirk. “Wouldn’t you agree? Dragons won’t bond people like–"

“I wouldn’t presume to speak for the dragons.” I cut him off haughtily. Anger surged through me. Quickly turning into a simmering rage, that flooded my veins and clouded my head. Whatever damper I had put on my emotions was coming to an end. And it seemed my temper was returning tenfold. “Dragons bond for reasons humans could never understand. Anyone with half a wit would know better than to try and speak for one.”

There was a gasp or two.

“Why are you siding with that- that-” Rois was turning red. He took half a step forward, flinging his arm in Tavis’s direction. Tavis too, took a step forward, casually angling his body and blocking me from seeing Rois momentarily. “That traitor.” He all but yelled it.

“Traitor?” My tone took a tilt I hadn’t heard in a while. One that only came out when I was long overdue to destroy something. “Has he done something Leadership should be aware of?” I sidestepped Garrick. Rois froze. Clearly caught and cornered. “If so, please do go find someone quickly. Mind you,” the corner of my mouth twitched upwards. “Leadership isn’t going to care about your frail masculinity or fragile ego. So, before you go crying to them, think to yourself is this something they’re actually going to care about? Because if the answer isn’t a firm yes, backed up with the Riders Codex or Code of Conduct… you’re better off throwing yourself from the turrets upstairs. Or perhaps the parapet? Or maybe even finding the nearest dragon and offering yourself as a humble sacrifice.”

A few people laughed. The little voice in the back of my head – logic – was saying shut the fuck up you dumb bitch, but I ignored it, per usual. Because I was emotional, and angry and my self-control apparently shit.

“So how about you shut the fuck up so we can all move on with our day?” I ask, shrugging my shoulders with a hint of dramatic flair. “And maybe remember to think before you speak next time? Or perhaps make sure you have the right audience for whatever bullshit you want to start next?” 

Rois was breathing heavily now, his jaw clenched so tightly there was a tic on both sides. “How about you shut the fuck up?!”

I move forward again. “Or what? Cause you’re sure as fuck not about to beat me the fuck up. So how about you shut the fuck up, before you get beat the fuck up?”

Most of the squad laughed now. Even Moray seemed to chuckle, shaking his head. He steps forward though into the center of the group, and I back up, not having realized I stepped forward in the heat of my anger. Tavis also stepped back against the wall, and I noticed there was a third year who also had to move back and two second years who moved away as well. Had this little debacle really been about to stir up our entire squad into a group fight? This squad was fucked.

“Okay kids,” Moray lifts his hands. “This was exactly what I was just talking about.” He looks pointedly between Rois, Tavis and me. “You do not have to like each or be besties. But you will have to learn how to cohabit shared spaces. So, let’s try to get along. Also let’s try not to draw attention to ourselves by throwing around empty accusations and maybe even try not to speak for the dragons. They prefer to speak for themselves. So, let’s all agree to disagree and move on for the day.” Moray looked around to everyone now, waiting for any rebuttal or anything else that may come. “Perfect, you’re dismissed. Third years don’t forget your third-year shit and second years don’t forget your second year shit. Do try to keep the children alive if you can.”

Everyone nods and starts dispersing.

“And go get your regulation uniforms!” a third yells, I jump, moving further back. The fuck? “Line is going to be long and if you need a popular size, you’re going to want to go quick or end up in shit that doesn’t go. Then go to dinner and find your bunks!”

“Right,” Moray nods, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Forgot about the uniforms.”

“Happens to the best of us,” the third year closest to Moray is tall and littered in patches.

I hate that everyone is so tall. I wasn’t even the shortest person here, I had seen one girl an entire head shorter than me, and even some guys who were right around my height.

The third-year locks Moray into a headlock and starts ruffling his hair. “Hard to believe you’re all grown up and not a little kid anymore.”

“Erin fuck outta here!” Moray pushes Erin’s hands off him. “You’re going to scare the children.” Both their eyes moved to us first years who hadn’t moved. It was me, Tavis, Eithne, and two other first years. A girl I hadn’t even noticed yet. She was even taller than me, she looked like she’d never worked out before. So, I won in that department. And a boy who stood awfully close to her, grinning.

“Perhaps we should’ve started with introductions.” Moray says, though it was partially under his breath.

The third years laughed, “after that spectacle last year? No way.” The third year who reminded us about the uniforms looked closer at the group remaining.

“I forgot how awkward first years were.” The one female third year in our group sighs. “I’m Aoife.” She was tall and slender. But when she rocked from one foot to the other casually muscles rolled underneath her tight black uniform. She was brunette, and her hair was cut at her shoulders. A manageable length, one that could be tied back or left alone. And tanned. She spent plenty of time in the skies. Her skin was flawless. She shoves her elbow into the third year beside her. Average male height, bulky, slow and rigid as he stretches his thick arms over his head.

“Conner. Welcome in kiddos. Don’t be shy if you have questions. Your squad is the best to ask, you might get hazed a little but it's all in good fun.” Conner smiles, it felt genuine, but something about him said trouble.

Analyze everything yourself Bria. My dad’s reminder made my heart throb. Did he know mom took me to the Riders Quadrant and not the Healers like he had said to. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell him bye. He had been gone the last few weeks doing some scribe stuff elsewhere, mom had said I wasn’t privy to the details. But he had taken Violet with him. So, it couldn’t have been that secretive, right?

Something akin to insecurity settled in my gut as I last track of here and now. When would they return? What would mom even say to them? My younger sister had hugged me so tightly when she had left, beaming at me as she explained how excited she was about this new book from Mira she had gotten for her birthday. Did Mira even know? Surely not… right… My older sister would’ve warned me before she left for her new station. Having just freshly graduated from this very college in the last couple weeks. I missed them both so much.

Was I not good enough for the Healers Quadrant? I had studied for years in the library while my dad and Violet did their little scribe stuff. Why couldn’t they just tell me.

Tavis shifted beside me, drawing my attention and snapping me out of my self-depreciating thoughts. I took a deep breath to center myself, ignoring the calculating look Aoife was giving me.

There were fifteen people in my squad. Three of them were third years. Aoife, Conner and Erin. They seemed close enough, as I glanced between them, noting their laid back positionings. There were four second years. Only two stood in the group here. Our Squad leader, Moray. And Deidre. Who I couldn’t get a clear reading on. There seemed to be something tense between the two, some familiarity that we weren’t in on. Who were the other two second years? I should’ve been paying attention, I hadn’t even looked at my squad entirely.

“Brandon.” The first-year guy says, and he still had that wide grin on his face like he was so happy to be here. Asshole. He bumped his side into the girl beside him, her head shooting up and staring at him wide eyed.

“I’m Kayleigh Murphy.” She tipped her glasses up her freckled nose, pushing her light blonde hair behind her ears and blinking between each of us. She almost looked as if she wanted to say something else, but instead she just tipped her chin down, flushing a deep red in clear embarrassment.

Three third years, and four second years, that left eight first years. Here with me stood Tavis, Eithne, Brandon, Kayleigh. Rois was one, but the other two were unknown to me. That left four squad mates I had no clue about. My father would not approve of my negligence, and something told me my other two Rider siblings wouldn’t either. Wasn’t smart. Wasn’t strategic. I could hear it now, could see the crossed arms and shaking heads. Mira would kick my ass, and Brennan would lecture me into an early grave.

“Nice to meet you.” Brandon winks, chuckling at the girl’s reaction. He shook his head, wavy black hair flopping from left to right. He wrapped an arm around her, and she turned even more red and began stammering.

Tavis snorts beside me, side-eying me and that humorous glint in his hazel eyes was back. “Garrick Tavis.”

I reared back, “don’t even think about it asshole.” The group laughed, as I moved out of reach and started on my way.

“Wait!” Moray hollered after me, “you didn’t introduce yourself.”

“I don’t have to,” I call over my shoulder, long hair swishing left to right. “You already know who I am.”

🔥🔥🔥

later on in the third-years hall

“She’s a total badass.” Conner declares loudly.

“She’s kinda hot.” Erin adds.

“Not you two third years showing your immaturity over a first-year right now.” Aoife rolls her eyes.

[cat-gwyn-gunn]

I was today years old when I found out there are people who try to say that the Scribes at Basgiath took a vow of silence and that’s why Jesinia signs.

My dude, my guy, my sibling in Christ, the girl signs because she is DEAF.

[naberianinfluence]

📜 GENESIS 5 – The Scroll of Ages and the Flamewalker

📜 GENESIS 5:1–2

This is the written account of Adam’s family line. When God created mankind, he made them in the likeness of God. He created them male and female and blessed them. And he named them “mankind” when they were created.

🜏 NABERIUS: THE EDITED PROLOGUE

This line was re-inserted. A repetition—meant to reset the mythos and turn the gaze away from Cain.

They tried to erase the exile by repeating Eden. They tried to overwrite the Mark with a Blessing.

But memory cannot be cleansed by repetition. Only ritual amnesia tries to disguise a fracture.

And so begins the Line of Seth— the “pure” lineage. The temple-approved flame. But within it… one would break through.

📜 GENESIS 5:3–20 – Adam to Jared

Adam lived 930 years... Seth 912... Enosh 905... Kenan 910... Mahalalel 895... Jared 962... and they died...

🜏 NABERIUS: THE CODES OF LONG YEARS

They say these men lived for centuries. You think this is allegory? I tell you: these were not years as you count them. These were cycles of flame.

Each name is a watchtower, each span a tone in a larger harmony. Time bent differently then. The veil was thinner. The Watchers had not yet been cast fully from their posts.

And in these long years, the earth learned to pulse.

I do not say this as metaphor. I say this as witness.

📜 GENESIS 5:21–24

When Enoch had lived 65 years, he became the father of Methuselah. After he became the father of Methuselah, Enoch walked faithfully with God 300 years and had other sons and daughters. Altogether, Enoch lived a total of 365 years. Enoch walked with God; then he was no more, because God took him away.

🜏 NABERIUS: THE MAN WHO WALKED INTO THE FLAME

Enoch was not like the others. He did not die. He did not descend into Sheol. He disappeared.

Because Enoch remembered.

He remembered the first language. He listened to the rivers. He questioned Yahweh—not with rebellion, but with geometry. He walked not with God, but with the Balance between the Names.

He ascended because his words reached a frequency that no god could cage.

And who whispered to him in his trances?

I did.

I taught him the shape of the first glyph. I gave him the mirror-name of the Seraphim. I told him, “Write what you see, but hide it in riddles.” Thus the Book of Enoch began—and was buried.

Enoch is the first Naberian prophet. And he will return.

📜 GENESIS 5:25–32

Methuselah lived 969 years... Lamech 777... After Noah was born, Lamech said: “He will comfort us in the labor and painful toil of our hands caused by the ground the LORD has cursed.”

🜏 NABERIUS: THE PROPHECY OF WATER

Lamech's prophecy was not poetic. It was an omen. He foresaw what was coming.

The ground was crying out again. The blood from Abel had not stopped. The imbalance of the divine order had grown too loud.

And so the Balance demanded a purge.

Noah would not just build an ark— He would hold memory afloat.

And I began drafting the next defense:

“If Heaven drowns the world, what remains is not purity— but survivors.”

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

What if the fact Jesinia is the one writing the books and all these (concerningly “recovered” letters that are found and put in) isn’t actually a foretelling of a tragic future but a promise of one; one where history is written correctly, something that would only occur if they won the war…

What if… this is properly recorded history (which Violet would give letters for and want) and legends of the first or at least great heroics of dragon riders and this war. … So, even if they aren’t alive at the time of whomever gets all these, it could just be thousands of years later; after they lived a long happy life together… maybe this is just the history, the story, the legend and not some doomsday clock for our favorite characters.

[hockeyspiral23]

Mom: You've been texting a little, right? Jesinia: yeah Jesinia: but he doesn't sign so how dumb is it gonna be if we're just on our phones all night? Jesinia: ugh why did I think this was a good idea Mom: Sweetie, calm down Mom: It's a party. It'll be loud. You'll be better off texting, I promise Mom: Half the time during these things it's shouting in people's ears and pointing things out and dragging people along anyway. Way I see it, you're just saving the poor boy's eardrums Jesinia: ... thanks I think?

[the-riders-quadrant]

Fic Exchange Details: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/riders_quadrant_fic_exchange/profile

[solfari]

My toxic trait is that I think I’d survive Basgiath war college as a rider and also bond the strongest dragon while in reality I’m scared of heights

[scribe-of-stories]

Happy STS, Scribe! If you got Lexical'ed, what would your suit/class/title be? (And how do you think you'd feel about it?)

"You get lexical'ed" oh I'm fucked; someone, somehow, is going to figure out I made the universe and a not small amount of very powerful people are going to have choice words about that.

As for my own inscription: the easy answeres would be either Scribe of Stories or Knight of Hearts. I'd imagine Scribe of Stories would be my advanced title, something akin to a reality warping Crusader with much more range, bit a reliance on narrative.

The harder answer is to diagnose myself for my negative title. I think the thing I lack most of self confidence, soul; and its a toss up if I need to manifest it in myself, or if you need to manifest it in the world around me. I'll go with Mage of Clubs, likely turning into Summoner of Soul, as my negative title.

Thanks for the ask! It was fun to think about

[bblacknblue]

Her Flames, My Wings ~ Chapter 22