The Diadem
The world was ending, and Elka was savoring every last moment of it. Every day was a bright new day for her and the likes of her.
The Last City Standing had never seen daylight in months, save for the flickering rays that the sun managed to penetrate through the darkness that had blanketed on the Shield.
The streets and houses were lit with lanterns and torches. Day and night had morphed into a never-ending darkness that was only separated by the gigantic clock tower in the middle of the city. Announcing with a loud chime the start of the elusive day and the never-ending night every twelve hours.
But with darkness came opportunity, the greatest opportunity anyone like Elka could wish for. Turning it into a continuous, productive, bright new day. Brighter than the sun that everyone had missed like a long-lost lover.
The darkness was the perfect barrier and shield of her actions as she slithered around the city’s turrets and mansions like a spider and fattened her coffers with its fortune. At least, she would die rich and happy once the Shield faltered completely, which was inevitable.
From the way the darkness was getting closer in the past few weeks, the Shield had been thinning at a rapid speed. And now it was latched onto the last layer, biding its time. More so, yesterday it was reported that there was a crack at the north-east side of the city; the ominous dark tendrils were concentrated there to deepen the crack and seep through. Once that happened, the Last Standing City would meet its end like all the others. Finally ending all lives.
There was supposed to be one hope: The Diadem, a jewel that would choose The Hero of the Hour. But it hadn’t. It had been dormant since the last time it chose a hero five centuries ago, where the darkness retreated and the planet had a borrowed peace for many generations. But this time round, the darkness had succeeded. Kingdoms and empires had collapsed in its wake for years. Only this city remained, the Last Standing City. And the Diadem of this city was dormant; it hadn’t chosen the city’s savior. The Hero of the Hour. People were lining up every day to be chosen by the Diadem at the Central Temple.
But for Elka, things couldn’t have gone any better, like everything lining up for her these past few months. The failure of the Diadem was the icing on the cake. It would be worth more than anything she had bargained for in the black market. Worth buying kingdoms, if they hadn’t perished in this devouring darkness.
The Diadem was a useless piece of jewelry not serving the city in its hour of need. So Elka had decided she would make an excellent use of it in the black market.
Elka was grinning like a fool, surveying the busy streets bustling with people retreating to their homes as the end of the day neared. Elka waited six more hours after the clock tower chimed the start of the evening. The city guards were now deployed around the barrier save for a few who were dispersed around the city, trying to catch thieves like Elka.
But the streets leading to the Central Temple were deserted. Unguarded. Because not even the thieves festering in the city these past few months like cockroaches would dare steal their only means of survival.
But those thieves weren’t Elka. She was one of the most wanted thieves in the city before the darkness reached it. And she wouldn’t stop being one in the face of looming death. The past few months were the best time of her life, and she was just getting started. She could feel it in her bones that the air was pregnant with surprises to spoil her.
Elka walked to the Temple without needing to press herself against walls or jump rooftops without making a sound. Stealing was getting easier by the day, as hope ebbed away from the city’s dwellers.
The main gates of the temple were locked. Elka slid out a pin and got to work. In a minute, a satisfying click sent a thrilling chill down her spine. The door emitted a creaking sound as she pushed it open. She whirled around to see if it had alerted anyone but there were no footsteps, no alarm. So she went in, pushing her luck once more as she shut the door behind her with a resounding creak. She waited a few seconds but the silence was as ominous and unperturbed as the darkness behind the door.
The temple inside was well lit, making her job all the easier as she had expected. Torches lined the walls, burning steadily, revealing vibrant paintings of stories and myths that had mattered before the darkness conquered almost everything.
They told silent stories of the world before: the involvement of the divine, war and peace, torture and ecstasy, the birth and destruction of civilizations, hopeful and bleak stories tailing each other like the ropes she hooked on roofs and tied around her waist on some of her heists. But it wouldn’t matter anymore. It was all coming to an end. Elka tsked.
And in the middle sat the Diadem on a podium, placed on a comfortable mauve mattress. The Diadem was silver, ornamented with blue sapphire. A useless jewel to the masses. A jewel that was supposed to choose The Hero of the Hour. Not sleeping comfortably on that mattress. If that mattress touched her head, Elka was certain sleep would find her sooner than the new mattress she had bought two months ago. Maybe she should steal that too. It would serve her head more than the jewel.
If the Priest had placed a thorn beneath the Diadem maybe it could have activated sooner, but the religious always cared about maintaining comfort for what they worshipped. Elka snorted at the thought.
Elka made her way to the podium, climbing up the stairs and reaching out for the Diadem. And just like that it was in her hand. She waited a few seconds, scanning around, but no alarm went off. She knew it wouldn’t, but old habits die hard. She snatched the mattress as well; it was as comfortable to the touch as it was to the eyes.
Feeling immensely victorious, she started taking the steps down. A slow humming buzz started coursing through the hand holding the diadem. The vibration increased in intensity as it enveloped her whole body. Horrified, she jerked her hand away to throw the diadem off, but like dear old life her hand couldn’t lose its grip. It was glued to the now sizzling diadem. Lightning was circling around it with a soft crackling sound, then slowly crept onto her hand and arm, laying a warm sensation in its wake and slithering up her arm like a weed that had found footing on a fence.
No amount of jerking her body here and there could unglue her from the diadem; it only accomplished putting one foot over the other and tripping her, the obsidian floor rising up to meet her. She shut her eyes, throwing the other hand, which was clutching the mattress of its own free will, forward as a shield. But the softness of the mattress didn’t hit her face, nor did the sharp sting of the obsidian floor meet the rest of her body.
She slowly opened her eyes and found her body hovering a small distance above the polished obsidian floor. It was years of experience as a thief that gave her the courage to clench her mouth shut as a scream wanted to free itself. Instead she jerked herself upward and slowly let her feet touch the ground.
Her whole body was enveloped with the tendrils of crackling lightning. She was sweating from the warmth of it and feeling nauseated as she would feel in summer before the darkness had enveloped the city. Then the lightning vanished from the diadem first, then from her body, but in its place a faint glowing yellow light encircled her.
Elka knew what it meant. Everyone knew what it meant. It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. She was a thief. She would always be a thief. She only cared about her pockets. Her coffer. So what was the Diadem playing at?
Elka once more tried to throw the diadem off. This time it left her hand and rolled across the floor before coming to a halt. Elka frantically tried to smother the light from her body, her hands all over herself, but to no avail. She was glowing like a lantern. She was a beacon of light that would attract unwanted attention, like the Priest who dwelled in the third floor of the temple.
She should flee, before the priest came down to see what the kerfuffle was about. As though sensing her fear, she heard rushing footsteps above her. Pulling her hood down over her face, she darted out of the temple, hoping no one would notice the light zigzagging through the streets. But the Priest would know. The Diadem would turn green and until she came before the Priest and he testified she was the Hero of the Hour, the glow on her wouldn’t disappear. She would rather die than play the hero. She didn’t know the first thing about caring for someone else’s life. She did, but it was a long time ago. And she wanted it to remain that way.
Finally she reached her two-story house.
