The Equinox Princess

20 years ago:

The darkness of the stormy night enveloped the forest, heavy with the promise of rain. Thunder boomed, illuminating the sky with electric flashes, casting eerie silhouettes on the trees. In the distance, a haunting hoot of an owl echoed through the dense forest, its melancholy call weaving into the tempestuous night.

A figure emerged, fleeing through the shadows. A woman with platinum-blonde hair, clad in a tattered nightdress stained with dried blood, fluttered behind her like a ghostly banner. She cradled a newborn baby in her arms. Her breathing came in ragged gasps, panic etch on her pale face. Fear drove her forward, fuelled by a determination to protect her child from the so-called seers and her own husband.

As she fled through the forest, memories of earlier horrors flooded her mind. The excruciating labour, and agony of bringing life into the world, was eclipsed only by the terror that followed. She recalled her baby's tiny body began to absorb the dark energies from the artifacts her husband, the king, had brought from war. The relics, meant to be souvenir, had unleashed a malevolent force into the palace. And her baby, innocently adorable, had absorbed her nanny's life force, after the dark energies entered her body.

As a nephilim, she had sensed the darkness lurking within the artifacts. She had warned her husband, pleading with him to remove them from their chamber, but his stubborn pride had silenced her concerns.

'They're harmless,' he had said, his voice dripping with condescension. 'Simply relics of our victory.'

But she knew better. And now, as she gazed at her baby's innocent face, she saw the faint shadow of corruption spreading within. The artifact was a seal, and now, something ancient and evil had awakened, threatening to consume her child's soul. Her husband's ignorance had doomed them all.

With each snap of twig and rustle of leaves, she flinched, expecting pursuers. The baby's gentle cries only strengthened her resolve. She would not let them take her child. Her bare feet pounded the damp earth, the only sound aside the baby's faint wails and the distant rumble of thunder.

Suddenly, she stumbled, her gaze locking onto a narrow stream running through the forest. Without hesitation, she followed it, hoping the water would mask her tracks.

Painting against the tree, she scanned her surroundings, her gaze darting backwards disbelief and horror gripped her heart as she thought of her husband's betrayal. Her husband, once loving and supportive, had turned against their own child. Blinded by fear and ignorance, he conspired with the palace seers to eliminate the perceived evil. He had rallied the entire community to hunt her down, driven by the ruthless desire to kill their innocent child.

Torchlights flicked through the trees, and the distant barking of hounds louder. The pursuers were closing in. Summoning every last shred of strength, she pushed off from the tree and began to run. Despite the searing pain and exhaustion lingering from childbirth, she forced herself to accelerate. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but she refused to yield. The thought of her baby's life hanging in balance propelled her forward.

Her nightgown clung to her sweat-drenched body, and branches snagged at her hair, but she pressed on. The hound’s bark grew more urgent, and torches cast eerie shadows on the trees. Still, she ran, driven by a mother’s unwavering instinct to protect and the immortal world offered no refuge. The rain, began lashing down, soaking her to the bone, but she pressed on. She adjusted the blanket and raincoat, shielding her baby from the deluge.

Finally, she saw the hill, her beacon of hope. There she will be able to open a portal, a gateway between worlds, awaited. Only royals and high nobles knew the special sigil required to transverse the two realms. Reaching the hilltop, she rearranged her hold on the baby and began to drawing the intricate sigil on the rock. Rainwater streaming down, obscuring her vision and smudging her lines. Undeterred, she tried again. And again. Until, on the fifth attempt, the sigil shone clear.

With trembling lips, she spoke the enchanted words, ‘Aperio portam, mundo mortalium.’ The air vibrated with anticipation as she waited for the portal’s response. As she waited for the portal to open, a sense of unease crept over her. Below the hill, the guards and community members moved with predatory stealth, their torched casting sinister shadows. They circled, closing in like a tiger stalking its prey.

“Look, she’s attempting to open the portal!” a guard exclaimed his voice urgent.

The community leader’s face darkened. “We cannot allow her to escape. The child must be surrendered to His Majesty.”

Their captain’s anger flared. “If she slips through, our heads will roll. Robert, unleash the hounds! We must stop her, no matter the cost.”

The guards swiftly complied, releasing the snarling pack. The hounds sensing their quarry, burst into a frenzied chase, their barks echoing through the stormy night.

Meanwhile, her gaze locked onto the flickering lights, and her heart sank. They found her.

‘No, no, no,’ she silently screamed, panic setting in.

Suddenly, barking erupted behind her. She spun around, and the eyes widened in horror. Through the bushes below, the hounds burst forth, their snarling faces and snapping jaws mere yards away. The woman’s breath caught in the throat as the hounds close in, their hot breath wafting up the hill. Her baby’s tiny fragile form seemed to tremble in her arms, and she knew she had to act – or lose everything.

And the rock beneath her hand began to glow, soft blue lights spreading like veins. The sigil pulsed, beckoning her to step forward. The portal creaked open revealing a shimmering threshold.

As the portals shimmering lights swirled to life the captain’s eyes narrowed. He knew Her Majesty was cusp of escape. With swift precision, he drew an arrow from the quiver and took aim. The arrow sliced through the air, like a deadly missile finding its mark. It pierced her side, gliding through flesh like a hot knife through butter. Her scream echoed through the stormy night; her voice shredded in agony. She stumbled, her grip on the baby faltering. The infant’s fragile form wobbled in her arms, threatening to slip free. Desperate, she braced herself against the rock, her free hand clutching the stone as if were only her anchor. The portal’s radiant glow illuminated her anguish, its promise of sanctuary now tantalising out of reach. She leaped into the shimmering depths, narrowly avoiding another arrow and the snapping jaws of the hounds. And everything went to black.