Chapter 1
Dear Beloved Mother and Father,
Today, I have finally secured enough time out of my strict schedule to write this. Sleep evades me for the upteenth time for fear of whatever awaits my presence should I dare close my eyes for even one minute. The sentimental vision of the two of you reading this fades like a dying campfire, whilst the shadow lurks in the darkness. A tiny, white lit candle, that was personally anointed with oils jasmine,myrrh, and rose, and small dust speckled slivers of our early morning suns cast just enough light for me to write. By their locations, one could speculate that there are two hours more or less until the busy day begins. I had recently spent my time with Astarot to celebrate my sixteenth birthday. Lovely of him to remember my birthday. No one here cares to remember. Honestly, it truly is a miracle that I have survived for as long as I have. Death appear to have his eye for me ever since your demises four years ago, stalking me at every corner. My life turned for the worse ever since.
My one woeful birthday wish is for you both to return back to life and hold me. Coddle me, reassure that everything is okay, tell me that the Gods have not abandoned me. Of course Astarot is still by my side whenever he can sneak in here. He just cannot fill that dark void that swells evermore each day. My despair never ceases. My only solace in life cannot help me, despite his silly attempts. The whites of my eyes take on a permanent red hue as tears constantly spill out. Horrendous omens, night terrors, ...and the pieces of an equally terrifying vision all haunt me mercilessly. So much blood...glore...screaming from women and children. The sensations of wanting everything to end consumes my entire being, but we all know that it is exactly what that man wants.
Uncle Aerglo coerced me into complying on keeping my identity a secret from anyone at Oracle Academy. Not even the fact that I am a Celestial mixed with Oracle blood. No, my identity should remain a poor orphan girl he found on his way to deliver his charity donations. A poor pauper with amnesia, who could only remember her first name. Aislyn. Only Astarot speaks my true name and status. The student life has been cacafuego due to the treatment of these peers. High Priestess Morgana appears to be in on it as well. The students patronize, torture, harm, prank and verbally berate me for absolutely no reason other than my looks and the mere fact I have no kin to their knowledge, or lack there of. She actually punishes me severely for their antics! She even forbides my venturing outside the castle walls, let alone promenading past the bridge. She expresses her fear of men casting their lewd eyes on my body, tainting my purity. Cannot risk tarnishing my “purity”. If only she knew of Astarot’s nightly visits here and there. Let alone addressing my intimate wounds.
I recall one memory where the students dragged me out of my living quarters one wintry night. Unfortunately, only a very thin white nightdress covered my frail body in temperatures that rivaled those in the tundra lands. Snow was cascading all over in a frenzic dance, ice shone in the light of the moons. Echoes of their gleeful giggling still ring in my ears every single day ever since. Death nearly had his frosty grip on me when my body was discovered by none than an infuriated High Priestess Morgana. What gave it away you might wonder? Her hair resembled an actual fire, her skin changed to an aggressive hue of malachite, and her eyes, a raging storm. My eyes finally focused enough to register where I lay. The very bridge I must absolutely never go on.
Fear iced its way through my already frozen body as she marched right up to me. She yanked on my ankles with such brute force, causing heat to spread through my skin like wildfire. My blackened skin was slowly turning back to its original moonstone color. She fiercely dragged me on every single uneven cobblestone she could sense all the way to her office on the main floor. Silence hung in the air, the tension radiating from her was thick enough to even cut with the dullest of knives. Bruising on my head and back formed rather quickly. Warm liquid oozed out of the wounds I received on the way. This earned me a look that would surely have killed me if they could. I am still convinced that I had fainted a few times on the parade to her office.
The wounds distracted me as High Priestess Morgana verbally lashed at me for ignoring her number one rule. She paused when our stomachs mutually growled in agony. We ate in silence for three meals in between her verbal assaults. It was hours after lunch when she had finished. Snacks and tea were ordered before my punishment was discussed. Three months in the crumbling dungeons everyone had whispered were haunted and filled with skeletons of war prisoners. I were to have no food, little water, and ten to fifteen lashings per week done by none other than Oracle Druscilla. We are both in the same classes and the ringleader of our peers. The one who despises my very existence the most, aside from Uncle. For what reason, it escapes me. The lashings were not to be on areas that were visible to the eye. That leaves my back, stomach, bottom, and my thighs…
High Priestess Morgana personally escorted me to my holding cell. I was harshly yanked into the hidden stairwell behind a bookshelf in her office. The stench that permeated the air from down below was enough to have me battle to keep the contents of my previous meals down. Blood, bile, decay, feces, and urine all permanently taint the air. Memories of being in our castle’s own dungeons the night your lives ended rushed to the forefront of my mind. Uncle Aerglo had carelessly locked me up in a holding cell, though I suppose I should be thankful he did not lock me in with a skeleton.
No need for the family to become cursed from sleeping with one, right? Heavens forbid, someone in our family should rob one. I fight back a shudder, not wanting to open the chance to vomit. One would need those should they find themselves sentenced to three months with no food rations. Unless you were desperate enough to eat the huge rats we could hear scurrying about. Upon further inspection, as we had to pause midway to calculate our next step, literally, I noticed the limestone walls were bleeding red from all of the trapped moisture.
She nonchalantly commented the obvious: these had not been used the Great Wars over five hundred years ago...well, until that day. My lips remained pressed together as my inward battle forged on. It was not quiet, either. Her head whipped to mine as her chrysoprase and pietersite eyes narrow dangerously. Before I could manage a semblance of a shrug, she was looking downward, humming a creepy tune merrily. Dread swelled inside of me, as we descended down the last few steps carefully, when the sight of it all came into view. The stone floors were permanently dyed black from all of the stains over the years. Huge cracks were forming in every other stone square. I was immediately dry heaving upon the sheer sight of everything.
There were easily hundreds of the rodent corpses, rotting as the live ones merely gnawed on them for sustenance. Hundreds more scurried about, a shriek forms in the back of my throat that nearly escapes my lips. I noticed right away the skeletons that reside in most of the holding cells. One was still sitting in his chair at the guarding desk. His uniform was in tatters, but you could still recognize the masculinity of it. The boots were cracked with age and darkened. The guarding desk appeared as if it would disintegrate should even the slightest touch of a feather landing on it. Dust was abundant on the surface, mostly gathering in the center from its curvature. Tiny wood splitters jutted out on the edges, as if daring anyone to touch it.
A tight shiver erupts through my entire body. I noted to myself that these walls could not keep the heat as frigid drafts coursed through the air. A shaky whimper slithers out before I could clamp it down. It earned me a ruthless tug on my wrist, and from the quick change of color, I instinctively knew it would bruise within minutes. I had to fight the urge to nurse it whilst it was still in her grasp. My eyes tore off my wrist and inspected the rotting metal of the holding cells. They froze on a long forgotten language- our peoples’ old language, Aonarhi, and numbers above the rusted gates.
Before any of the questions that began to swirl around in my mind at that point left my mouth, she stilled and stopped humming. Cell number 308. Luckily no skeleton resided inside. Echoes of memories noisily reiterated tales of what would happen should you rob or sleep next to one. High Priestess Hornbaker informed us that their spirits will cast a curse on you and your family bloodline, depending on what you did to anger them, until someone lucky and intelligent enough to appease them. I flinched instantaneously when High Priestess Morgana ever so slowly opened the rusted gate. Loud screeching pierced the air and my ears, dispelling the tension that still radiated from her.
Instinctively, my body attempted to pull back my wrist she held free so I could protectively cover my ears. Instead, however, firmly yanks me through the gateway. A menacing giggle erupted from her as I fell onto my knees from the momentum. The slow screeching from earlier still resounded in the silence after she closed the gate and locked it. The clicking of her heels followed through the echoes and the lone slab of rock sliding down before crashing loudly into the floor. Darkness soon swallows the entire dungeon chambers.
My inward battle was soon lost as the scurrying rodents came into my holding cell and stared blankly into my eyes. The sounds of my retching filled the air, hundreds of them squeaked loudly as they darted away to hide. More contents spewed out with such gusto at the sight and sounds of them hiding. Shrill shrieking exploded out of nowhere, the last clump of bile settling in my throat as I froze. My body instantly responded by coughing and choking. One of the spirits that night had expressed their concern for my well being. Time seemed to evade me as I dreadfully await for Oracle Druscilla to come and give me her lashings. Some weeks, she would space them out each night, others, she would give all of the weekly lashings at once.
During my time there, the war prisoners have shown my every detail, despite my protests. No one needs to know every little detail of someone, much less a stranger. I was thrown into a world where everyone was truly equal. Dragons, other winged folk, Oracles, and Celestials all roamed free from discrimination. I learnt of not only their lives, but of their friends and families as well. It felt as though as we merged into one being, experiencing their lives- and their crimes as well. Sensations of their deaths and time spent in the holding cells still run rampant through the nights after my experiences. Our screams and wails became one and the same. Death could be noticed lurking around everywhere but my holding cell.
Imagine the dread and relief once I heard the secret entranceway opening and the familial sounds of High Priestess Morgana’s heels clicking down the steps. Death was staring at my huddled, frail body. He stepped away when her torch came into view. She hummed that same tune when we trudged down here, as mockingly did the same. The melody stopped when she reached my holding cell. Disgust burned brightly in her eyes, her nostrils scrunched up when she sniffed the air. She held out her torch for us both to take in my appearance. My skin dyed black from lying on the floor its contents. My black night dress had permanent stains from my own excretements. Bite marks covered my body from head to toe. My own nose had grown used to the putrid smells that cling unto the air, and my obvious stench.
She refused to touch me, understandably. I was ordered to hike in front of her, using the light of her torch to see in complete darkness. The stairs appeared to have taken even longer to get through than the last time. She did not dare to utter a word to me on the way to the bathing room. As soon as we breezed into the freezing, empty bathing room, more than likely her orders, she instructed some of Oracle Druscilla’s cohorts whom were milling about in the hallways to bathe me. To forge me back into a more pleasing visage of purity.
They gleefully took it upon themselves to mercilessly scrub me to the point of drawing blood on my infected wounds. Pain seared my flesh as hoarse screaming shot out of my mouth. Each time I screamed, they would take turns in walloping my injuries. My face fortunately went unscathed. They contumely abused me as they advanced in their torture, draining and refilling the tub with arctic temperature waters. Five glacial baths later, they were finally pleased with themselves.
A messy lump of clothes laid in a heap on the floor. I dressed in a hurriedly fashion, not wanting to further offend High Priestess Morgana. The Academy’s black tunic was a few sizes too small, causing it to be rather difficult to breathe. They only give me hand me downs that never is my size. Usually only clothing that are too small. My unattended wounds ferociously consumed my every thought from the tightness. With each step, my body involuntarily winced whenever the harsh fabric kneaded them raw. The halls were soon brimming with wicked laughter from the students.
Two people from my classes escorted me back to my dormitory and informed me that my meal ingredients and homework materials were to be brought in throughout the day on schedule. The meal cart was already being brought in to my living quarters where Astarot expertly hid, expecting my arrival. A pair of feminine hands fiercely shoved me into the room before slamming my door shut and locking it. Masculine arms snaked around me with lightning speed, preventing my fall into the meal cart, filled with things to make my meals. My body instantly froze. It was not until the scent that is forever ingrained flooded my nose that I relaxed.
I noted hints of ember, firewood, and brimstone. His growls and snarling filled echoed in the air around us. I nervously glanced up to study his rugged face. His fire agate skin glowed in the morning shadows. Black circles formed under his eyes. His coal eyes appeared to hold aggression, worry, admiration, fondness. Creases around his eyes could be seen and frown lines indented the skin around thin, even lips. I noticed his red almandine, mid-length hair seemed as if someone’s hands ran through it quite often. You see the growing stubble along his square jawline. His chiseled features looked even sharper as his cheeks had sunken in. His Agaron Royal military uniform was disheveled. The lips frowned downward, his full high arched brows knitted together in question.
Claws extended out from his hands, touching the tunic. I meekly nodded his permission to inspect my wounds. Most of his visits included dressing the wounds I received over the years here. I knew he could detect the infection slowly spreading through my body. His fore claw gently rips my tunic open, sucking in his breath. He kept chanting his whispered sorrows to me as gently addressed my wounds. It became a nightly ritual for three more months, every single night. Not one night had been missed.
Smoke slithered through his nostrils when he realized scars were to permanently blemish my skin. Astarot ranted about, wanting to burn the school down. This was after I retired back to my chambers and prepared our last meal of the day to thank him for all he has done to me over these years. It had taken me several hours just to begin to simmer his fire down. We argued over his plot to pack all of my things and return with him to his home and be his (Mate). It was then that I broke down and confessed to him my beliefs of Fate keeping me here until (The Choosing). Rumors of Queen Eirys and King Zagyn of Venturi, our mutual enemies since the (Great Massacre) receiving permission to enter the grounds and pick one of us to be their Court Oracle may have slipped through my lips. Smoke snaked out of his nostrils in pure indignation. His cavansite eyes darkened. He ached to incinerate the school.
Several hours later and a promise to allow to spend the night, just what we used to do during our youth, scarcely calmed him down. It was not until the both of us fell asleep late that night that he begrudgingly composed himself. He snuggled deeply into my laying form. In the morning, we woke up in an absurd position in which he half-light heartedly jested he could familiarize himself waking up like this everyday together. I chided him playfully back. Astarot immediately sobered up, strutting to my personal kitchen to concoct our morning meal.
He attempted to lunge for me when a knock at the door resounded in my living quarters after the meal was over. We both startled at the unwelcomed noise. I hastily slipped on my celestial printed kimono he ordered for me and smoothed out my hair in an attempt to appear semi-kept. High Priestess Morgana came to confirm the rumors and informed me that she hired a personal dressmaker to make mine. Tension rolled off in dominant waves from his direction. I had to suppress the urge to shiver.
We discussed the dress’s details before another student came by to hand my homework for the day. I was advised to remain in my room in the off chance harm came my way. Well, come, seeing as how I’m still being held captive in my living quarters. After her dressmaker took my measurements and they left. Astarot withdrew noiselessly during our brainstorming. He has yet to visit since that happened a week ago. It pains me to say that I had grown quite fond of his excessive visiting over the months. However, I must ready myself for the day. Today I shall receive my dress after morning meal and must spend the remaining hours to get ready before the Venturi royals arrive.
With all the love,
Ataryah Silverbane
A heavy sigh escapes my lips as tears begin to gather in my eyes, ready to pool over. I gently place the quill neatly in its mahogany wooden crate before placing the near empty inkwell beside it. Stretching as my body shoves my chair away from the desk and stand. I shuffle over the open compartment on the floor. My wounds are completely healed. Finally. I glance outside the metal fenestra and calculate how much time passed writing that letter. An hour more or less until I must eat and assemble myself before the private...Choosing? My body shrugs in response to my thoughts and freezes when a pair of familiar arms circled around me and drew me in close. His scents fill my nose when I deeply inhale.
“I thought you were upset with me, Astarot,” I questioned quietly.
“Oh? Is my Princess Ataryah Silverbane of Celestia attuned to her faithful Dragon Prince Astarot Emberwood? How could I ever stay mad at the captivating short one,” he responds with lightness in his tone, “Aside from that, you know I will never miss a birthday of yours. We both know our people do not make promises half-heartedly,” he adds genuinely.
I roll my eyes, but smile softly when he spins me around. A gasp flies out of my mouth at his appearance. His hair was neatly combed back, his beard was grown out as promised and well-groomed, (his normally disheveled formal royal militant uniform is now impeccably done), I can note that he must have taken a shower before flying just from the scent of his soaps which enhanced his natural essence.
“One might say that, however, I am beyond elated that you came. I was anxious that you truly would have stayed away,” I softly respond, peeking up into his eyes.
“Nonsense, my Ata. No one has the means to keep us from seeing each other,” he dismisses.
“One will still worry, especially with everything going on,” I confess in a whisper only he can hear.
“Oh, Ata,” he starts nuzzling the nape of my neck, taking a deep inhale, “I apologise. It is just that I want you to be safe and happy.”
“I know, Ro, but Fate keeps me here,” I whisper faintly.
“I can whisk you away right now, just say the word, my highness. Please Ataryah,” he implores with a pleading stare.
“Do not do this, not now Astarot,” I state firmly, whipping around to face him.
“It is difficult enough that you choose to remain here despite everything you endured these four years. I broke when I believed you met your demise. It breaks me every time I visit and discover every little laceration, every lesion you received these four years. My soul cannot rest until I know for sure you are safe, not in the hands of a school with close ties to your uncle. Especially not in the hands of the same people who casted our people from out of sight,” he angrily countered before softly whispering, “I would not survive losing you, for good this time.
He seizes my small hands in his rather larger left hand, tenderly placing them over his racing heart. His right hand lightly traces my petite, heart-shaped jawline before cupping my face. His eyes demanded mine not leave his. Astarot’s face inches forward as if time itself slows down as he draws in a deep breath, seemingly to breathe in my own scent. It takes everything within my body to face away from him. My hands that were still held over his heart attempts to shove him away. I instinctively know that it would be of no use. His strength outmatches mine easily. He jerks me toward him, tightening his hold on me.
“May I permission to kiss you, Princess Ataryah Silverbane of Celestia,” he inquires in an octave that is barely audible before adding pitifully, “please.”
“I-I…,” I start, at a loss for words.
Truth be told, as children, I did have a crush on him. However, I have grown to cherish our platonic relationship. What should happen if we never work out? Would we ever go back to just being best friends? Questions swirled in my mind as anxiety snakes its nasty roots in the pit of my stomach, gripping it tightly. My eyes dances wildly around the room all while trying to evade his inquisitive stare. His eyebrows raises before quickly knitting together in concern. I peeked down at my arms and noticed they took on a greener tone as bile sluggishly climbs up to the back of my throat.
“Ataryah, are you well? What is the matter? Was it something I have said? Gods, Ata, I am so sorry,” he quizzically asks as his eyes scans over me for any indications that I was about to slip.
“No, no. It was nothing to do with what you asked of me,” I respond rather curtly, willing the bile to go away. I must not slip, not today of all days.
“Is it because of..everything today? Well, no matter. I came bearing gifts for your birthday! A peck on the cheek will suffice,” he informs me, grinning with the last statement.
I dart to my modest king-sized black and white chaise, grab my pillow and proceed to chuck it square in his face as giggle erupts from my mouth. He catches the pillow mid-air. A genuine smile etches across his features as he lunges for me. I shriek as quietly as one can and hastily crawl over it, sprinting around the room as soon as my foot touched the ground. He chases after me for a good minute before tackling me to the floor. As soon as we sit up, he snakes his legs around my waist and starts tickling my sides with speedy precision.
My attempts to escape his assault with tickles proved to be futile as he would only tighten his legs even further. Fits of cackling soon fills my room and tears rapidly stream down my face. I become out of breath rather quickly from all of the laughing. He pulls back and stops when I start wheezing. His face becomes serious again and his cavansite eyes become hooded with a look I grew familiar to over the previous year.
I remember the first time I caught him with that look. It happened right after I bathed in my private lavatory. I rushed out of there without my towel after realizing my clothes were still laying on my chaise. My towel was momentarily forgotten about as I hastily grabbed my clothes. My body froze like a prey that had been caught by a predator when Astarot whistled lowly. I shyly peaked at him when I noticed an odd look on his features. It must have clicked with him when he caught me staring and hiding myself to the best of my ability. Needless to say, I high-tailed it back to my lavatory with my outfit and locked the door. Still to this day, I could have sworn he was drooling.
Shaking my head mentally, I shiver uneasily as I relented, “Astarot, I will give you a peck on the cheek, but someone needs to start making breakfast. Today is the big day.”
“Must you really go through this, Ata? What should happen if they do choose you and they figure everything out about you? Would you really go into a palace that would be dangerous for you?! I would break if something should ever befall you. You’re safer with me in Agaron, we both acknowledge this,” he pleads with me.
I remain silent for a few minutes, contemplating my answer, though we both already knew. My body starts fidgeting before timidly nodding my head in response. A frustrated sigh escapes his lips as he draws me in closer. He nuzzles his head into the nape of my neck on my left, his beard tickles me, eliciting a giggle from me. This only encourages him to continue rubbing his well-groomed beard into he claims as his. I playfully smack his well-toned bicep and reminded him of breakfast.
“What about that kiss, Miss Ata,” he mirthfully asks, pointing to his cheek.
I shake my head with my own grin spreading before planting a quick peck on his cheek. He unravels his legs around my waist, standing up with ease. Astarot extends his hand out to me for me to grab, and quite honestly, a mischievous thought to yank him over pops into my head. My smile widens as I grasp onto his hand and tug on his hand as hard as I could. Nothing happens, but he guffaws at my feeble attempt before picking me up and over his shoulder. He waltzes to the kitchen area, humming the same melody our mothers would sing to us before bed.
As delicately as he could, he places me on the countertop. His tune never changes or stops, readying every to prepare our first meal of the day. I slide down off the countertop to help him. He promptly informs me that today was my birthday and deserves to be taken care of. He gathers a bowl, flour, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, egg, salt, butter, and his grandma’s own vanilla extract, placing them gingerly next to me. Next, he places some firewood into the stove while I put the dry ingredients into the bowl and begin mixing.
Just like a spider sensing something amiss in his web, he twirls around and scowls at me satirically before grabbing a handful of flour and flinging some at my face for helping. A huge mess decorates the kitchen area from as we dallied around whilst cooking. We finish within minutes. He garnishes his with powdered sugar and fruit he brought over from his homeland. We leisurely discussed everything and nothing as we eat. As soon as we finish, he takes the plates to the sink and washes them, formulating a plan should anything befall me. Once the dishes were done, he manages to squeeze an enormous bag through the fenestra.
Astarot plucks out each gift one by one, handing them to me and studied me. A stuffed dragon that closely resembles him to replace a decrepit, shabby one of him from when we were young. He pulls out a cute black, modest duvet set for my chaise next. His mother, Queen Vera, gifted me a handful of clothing items tunics, dresses, nightdresses, garments a more horrifying experience to see him pulling them out. My cheeks turn hot as my blood rushes to the surface of the skin. His father, King Agos, gifted me a fairly petite, narrow, jagged blade made of mithril is held by a grip wrapped in high quality, black crow leather.
The blade has a jagged, swirled cross-guard, which ensures the blade is both balanced and capable of protecting the owner's hands against any sliding sword. His Aunt Rika instructed Astarot to bring me a crate of fresh fruits and vegetables from her and her husband’s farm. They live at the base of the mountain, their home in a well hidden cavern in the forest. All of his siblings pitched in together to devise a spellbook with all of the spells they thought I may need in the near future along with rare ingredients they had gathered on their last adventure.
A luminous smile etches across my face, my temporary worries at ease in the moment. A wave tranquility washes over me for the first time in years. I feel completely at ease, yet there is a tenacious feeling the back of my mind that this would not last too much longer. I mentally shudder in attempts to shake it away. Instead, I choose to focus on the moment, wanting to enjoy some of my birthday before the premature Choosing. He helps me place everything, in the hidden safe havens for my things. If being here has taught me anything, it was to keep your valuables hidden and try to remain as invisible as possible if you want to have a peaceful day. Thankfully, I am to remain in my living quarters until then.
The feeling is short-lived as a knock startles us. We both glance out the fenestra. The time has come for the dress to be dropped off. I peak over at Astarot and mouth a silent ‘thank you’. He struts over to me and tightly embraces, giving me a quick kiss on my left cheek. I hike it to open it up for him to escape, but he stops me before I can reach my destination. He tugs me to him and whisper that he will wait for my return. I nod as he hides and the door opens.
High Priestess Morgana enters with her personal dressmaker. Blonde, shoulder-length hair slightly covers a strong, cheerful face. Bulging green emerald eyes have dark circles under her eyes. I gather it must have been from all of the nights slaving over the dress orders. She carries in the trunk that held my dress. We all watch with anticipation as she gingerly takes out the dress.
It is as dark as the night sky, with galaxy patterns on the lower end. My chest holds the moons and their respective colors. Norai is the yellow crescent moon on the left, in the center is full orange Vien, on the right is the blue Venturi crescent moon. My breath caught and tears start to well at the beauty of it. They encourage me to try it on.
The dress covers my shoulders entirely and flows down into a simple v-neck. It's a comfortable fit which removes the focus from her breasts, but without making it look sloppy. The sleeves only halfway down. The sleeves broaden towards the bottom and playfully accentuate my skin. The dress' waist is narrow, but it's a tight fit. Below the waist the dress fits snugly around me and has a wrap style. The dress reaches all the way down, almost covering her feet and is slightly longer in the back. At the bottom of the trunk were a pair of black flats to go along with it.
She hastily alters my dress as I stand there, eyeing everywhere but the place Astarot hides. She finishes minutes later and is soon out of the door with High Priestess Morgana in tow, talking about today’s events after expressing my gratitude for the new gown. I heave a long sigh and stroll to my lavatory with my dress. A bath was already drawn with myrrh, frankincense, and elio nut essentials oils given to me by his siblings. He placed flower petals in the steaming water. A small smile plays at the corner of my lips as I close the door and undress after checking to see if there any unsolicited visitors here.
I relax peacefully, even closing my eyes before I begin washing my body. Minutes go by with my eyes closed, focusing on everything around me, to calm my nerves. The heat does wonders to my sore muscles from my time in the dungeons. Pain still comes and goes daily, even triggering me often. My worried thoughts swirl around my mind as I sluggishly wash my body and hair. Water soon turn chilly once I finish.
I drain the bath as soon as I step out. The dress slips on nicely, as if it is my second skin. I give the dress a once over and a brief twirl before opening the door. Astarot stands on the other side, eliciting a whisper scream from my mouth. He immediately places a hand over my mouth and shushes me.
“Son of a sea cook, Aro, you scared the living daylights out of me,” I whisper yell.
“My apologies, Ata. It appears I have rubbed off on you, that language is not suitable for ladies high standing,” he teases.
“Oh hush, you. I had no idea that you would be standing creepily on the other side,” I counter back.
“In my defense, you were taking forever in there! That aside, you look absolutely breathtaking in that gown, Ata,” he breathes out.
“Why thank you,” I curtsy playfully to him.
“Of course, Prince Astarot of Agaron,” I answer back, taking his hand in mine.
We dance for what felt like a while, giggling with each other and reminiscing about our past antics. When the dance ends, we curtsy each and glance out of the fenestra together. He offers to do my locks, as he used to when we were juveniles. My locks were pretty thin, so he ends up constructing a three braid to the back, where it hangs with the rest of my hair. Then, he places a navy blue hibiscus in to the braids at the center where they meet. When he finishes, he spins me around to face him and stare at each other with worry and anxiety in complete silence for some time. He breaks the silence by clearing his throat and offering to make our second meal.
“Ataryah, I extend my offer to make you a second lunch before you have to embark on your journey to a lion’s den,” the grin on his face, not quite reaching his eyes.
“Oh, hush it. Anything can happen, it is Fate that drives us, you know this as much as I do. Please, do not fret, Ro, I assure you I will be fine.” I hope. “Do you have anything planned for lunch,” I question, hoping to evade the reason for my fraying nerves.
“Ah, that I do! Fire roasted nut quai, chocolate creme anole custard, burberry fruit salad, some bread my grandmother made for you,” he lists off on his long fingers.
“That sounds alluring to my stomach,” I giggle after my stomach rumbled.
~~~
My nerves takes a nosedive as High Priestess Morgana escorts me to our ‘Divination Chamber’ where we do most of our scrying and fortune-telling. I keep my head down, staring at my gown as the sounds of her heels echo in the hallway. Whispers from the others slither their way into my mind.
‘Why are they allowing her to attend?’
‘I heard they did not have a choice in the matter.’
‘Oracle Druscilla says that she does not even have the powers that we do.’
‘Why is she even here? How did she even become accepted here?’
‘Ugh, she disgusts me. One of my friends had written me that she heard from a cousin’s friend that she had slain her entire family when King Aerglo had found her.’
‘Really? That ought to explain her...appearances when she first arrived.’
The words slice through my heart and stomach. The familiar feeling of queasiness snake around my belly tightly. Astarot’s voice come to the forefront of my mind, reminding me not to heed to their words. Words should not hold power over one of my status. A ghost of a smile plays at my lips upon hearing his voice. My saliva thickens in the back of my throat when the doors come into view as my heart free falls into the pit of my stomach. Tethered nerves snaps when pain spreads from the left side of my ribs. I glance over to see her sneering at me, as if daring me to snap. Daring me to break my oath to Uncle Aerglo.
A Venturi wingless fae open the heavy black golden doors. The doors had a plethora of celestial colors splattered about. The faces of our deities carefully miraged in the celestial bodies. He gives me an apologetic look as we briskly saunter in. The room itself is dimly lit by candles that light the path straight to the scrying pool. Standing immediately to the right, you could see the infamous Venturi Royals, Queen Eilrys Tepes and King Zaygon Tepes. I notice that while she is seemingly over the moons about this like a child receiving gifts during Luminescence Day. Her Beloved, however, appears as the complete opposite. Someone would sure rather be elsewhere, that makes two of us, I think to myself as we bow low in front of them. Moments later, we stand up with a clearing of the king’s throat.
He motions to me to begin. With my eyes closed, I envision myself relaxing and opening up to receive messages. My body saunters towards the pool as my third eye continues to bloom open. The frigid water tries nipping me back to the moment, however I easily ignore it as my toes dip in. The further I go in, the further I travel away from the Divination Chamber. I am waist deep when I open my eyes and peer into the water. The shadows being casted in the room snake around my body, squeezing me as if rooting me to the spot.
The water continues to darken, engulfing everything that shows. As soon as the darkness conquered the pool, an excessively bright white light erupts from the water. Light gives way to images of fire covering the sky, sounds of screaming and roaring pierces my ears. Emotional and physical pain spreads throughout my body, tightening around my lungs. Breathing increasingly becomes a laborious task, my jaw tightens from the sudden attack. My eyes squeezes shut in attempts to concentrate past the sensations. I hesitantly open my eyes to discover myself in the midst of a battlefield.
I instantly recognize the roars to be from the dragons. One in particular stands out from the rest of them. Astarot. I sense anger, anxiety, and heartbreak. My own heart shatters for him just as another voice brings me out of my reverie. I cannot place it though it draws me just as much as Astarot’s did. This man is radiating the same emotions as the dragon from above. I glance around to see blood soaking the ground as corpses of everyone fall to the ground like thunder. Fire rains down catching trees and grass on fire. Blasts of magick hurls back in response. Throughout all of the chaos, my Uncle Aerglo’s voice booms over all of the noise.
He calls out to me, my real name, and threatens to end my life by his own hands. He laughs maniacally, his voice coming ever so close, with Queen Eilrys and King Zaygon’s heads in each hand. The unfamiliar voice calls out to his parents in an ear-splitting scream. I turned to the voice and saw who could only be Prince Draevyn. He stands tall at nearly 7’ easily. His skin reminds me of the mary ellen jasper. One eye resembles obsidian and the other a pyrope. His face looks perfectly chiseled with high cheekbones and a roman nose. Thin high arched brows accented his face as well as his full lips which curl downwards as the brows knit together in fury. He pulls me behind him as he charges towards my uncle. Astarot sweeps in my location and captures me with his claws. I glance down in horror as my uncle decapitates Prince Draevyn. Our eyes lock as the prince’s body falls limply to the ground. The magick glow engulfs my uncle as he powers up to throw a big ball of energy at us. I try to warn Astarot but nothing would come out. I watch in horror as the thing hurls towards us. As soon as the ball makes an impact, I black out entirely. Pressure on my chest builds with each passing second.
