-
Eudora, Daughter of the Sun...
Blessed by the Sea... It is indeed not your fault wWhat
happened and you is not your fault, indeed, and you
can never be blamed for being what you are. Do not fear any kind of scolding or
retaliation, let alone exile. A mermaid is no worse or better than a fairy, but you in
what you are is [M1] sent by the gods to do well. They indeed know what to do, sending
you out to the sea, even if it means leaving the land. You see, my child, this
was foretold.
-
Fore… told?
-
Do you remember the prophecy
that your mother had whispered for you, years ago? I was the one who predicted
it. “It to be said, it is to be shouted, it is to be sang and it is to be
proud. The little baby child that came both from land and sea will be Mthak and
Mysticka’s grand trustee. Once she is on water's arms, she will learn to expand
her charms. For she will, with a black heart, save us all, and with deep
sorrow, prevent our fall.”
-
This is different from what I
heard all these years! – Eudora suddenly felt a growing anger, and she was not
sure why.
-
Of course, we needed you to be
close to the land as well. Your father wouldn’t allow you to grow away from
Alania, once he knew. The merfolk wouldn’t allow you to help if you weren’t
part of Mysticka as well. We needed your mother to raise you as a princess, as
our heir to the Throne.
-
You knew! You knew what I was… and
you lied!
-
Oh, but I did not lie. I merely
chose what to say.
-
My mahmee… will hate me.
-
Do not paint yourself as a
fool, Eudora, Daughter of the Queen of the Day and of the Three Seas Prince,
neither will ever hate you, your mahmee,
or you to heart, for the bond between mother and daughter is deeper stronger than
the land and deeper than thanthe sea sea or land.
Breena shall see in you the blessing that you are; finally Mysticka and Alania
can join, as it should have been from the beginning; fae from the land and the
sea came from the same source, the same gods. And thanks to you, we shall
perpetuate this alliance in a single throne and save all Mthak from
destruction.
-
Go away.
-
Little princess…
-
Go away! – She ordered with a
scream, pushing her, rising on her feet to wander around the room. – Go away
before I order our guards to lock you up, you liar, where you shall belong for
eternity!
The priestess seemed offended, but stood up in all her
divine glory to leave the room. The elf gave the princess a final look over her
shoulders and smiled a sly grin of victory before leaving her alone. Eudora
shouted a cry of anger. She did not care about politics, alliances, thrones or
connections. She did not care about prophecies, about saving lands and kingdoms
to fulfill no destiny. For her the important thing was the love of her mother
and her father, their affection, their unconditional dedication. If she lost
either, the little heiress felt like she should not ever exist. Of course she
knew well that the news would inspire in her father deep happiness; pleasing
him was indeed really important to her, but it pained her deeply to disappoint
her mother.
Once
she felt herself alone, she realized how lonely it had been. From the beginning,
she was destined to be a thorn on her mother's heart, and away from her, with
her father, she would cause her more pain on each end of the Full Moon. She
wanted to cry, and she was almost sure tears would come out. But suddenly she
noticed that the door was open, and between the wood surface and the stone
walls, she was awakened by the running of several people in different skin
tones and fabrics of different garments, from one side to the other, agitated
certainly in reason of all the latest developments. Suddenly, she remembered
that they could be attacked in any moment; and asked herself if the arrow that
crossed Anghus’s wings was one of those attacks. Awakening from her personal
battle, forgetting for a moment her proud father or mother, whether she was a
mermaid, a fairy or a natural disaster, she rose and her steps led her to only
one goal: to find and gather information about Anghus’s health.
The corridors were full, but, again, just like that same
morning, no one seemed to give any importance to herpay her any
mind, or even notice she was there. Everyone was busy, few seemed
to have
captured The Calm[M2] , looking for it in the air like a mysterious answer. It just gave her more
tranquilitymade her calmer, her being not the
only one who couldn’t tame her feelings; Eudora walked deftly, knowing exactly
where she needed to go and what she wanted to do, not letting her feelings
cloud her decision.
The door of the Unseelie chambers was made of dark wood,
full of runes that Eudora barely knewunderstood. Two
guards were patiently guarding it, one on each side, and noticed her as soon as
she turned around the corner. Eudora knew that panic had taken hold of the
court as Maar would never allow soldiers to guard her chambers, and Taranm
would also be against it. Both trusted the elf of the Moon to be more than
enough to ensure safety. Nevertheless, there they were, tall, strong, covered
and protected by heavy armor and spears so sharp that could very well tear the
thick flesh of a dragon to shreds. Such guards did not seem, however, to wish
to prevent her entrance, even less to direct any word to her. On the contrary,
both leaned down in a bow and, soon after, opened the heavy door so the little
girl could pass.
Eudora thanked them with a brief bow and went inside,
finally reaching her first goal, leaving her Calm lost in the air along with
her whole world. Her steps, previously agile and decided, now were hesitant and
trembling. It only worsened as she passed by the first scarves [M3] and dark curtains and found the room full of people, of all races
and types, one with a more devastated expression than the other. Maar and
Taranm were standing next to the headboard of the bed, still and impassive, their
fiery eyes showing overflowing with feelings
Eudora could not describe. Zealous for the little one that rested under
bearskin blankets, they looked toward her quite apprehensively, but subtly
stepped back so she could reach the bed and see the wounded son of the night.
Anghus was gray. Gray as the walls of the castle, and not
as dark as night like the skin of his mother. His lips were also discolored,
trembling, as if languishing of cold, and his eyes stared out to bed canopy
ceiling, unfocused, dull and devoid of any sign of life. His wings were
brittle, falling apart on the dark sheets as if they were made of glass, as
purplish veins spread through the surface of his skin. Eudora held up a murmur
of pain, looking at Maar in despair, feeling as if it were her fault, as if the
Queen could hate her for centuries without end. But she only shook her head,
smiled a half smile and closed her eyes, muttering whispering in
response.
-
Anghus would have been used by
Absque as a reward[M4] , if not for his fall off the cliff to the sea. And he would have
been taken by it and drowned among its waves were it not for Eudora. Thanks to
the sea and to Eudora, now connected to each other, a mahmee and a dahdee were
able to try to save their son, and see the last glow of the night in him. – She
said, her eyes filling with the tears that were missing from the little heiress
and mermaid. – What is taking him away from us is the poison that came with the
arrow, not the sea. Thanks to Eudora, we say goodbye. And because the sea and
Eudora are as one, we have an eternal debtare eternally
indebted to you, blessed child, because you brought the last gasp sigh of
a star back where it belongs.
Eudora looked back at Anghus in disbelief. The little boy
responded to her look, eyes still unfocused, turning his face so slowly and
weakly that she feared it would scrap into dust if he made any sudden movement.
Looking at her, blinking in silence, he raised his hand in her direction for her
to approach, seeking her soft face with his weak fingers, drawing a line with his
fingertips, as if clearing an invisible tear. The princess could not say a word,
and the room was filled with a hideous silence. With a calm smile he shook his
head negatively, laughing down and coughing, a last breath.
-
Look at my mahmee, and look at my dahdee:
both are cold as they can be, but raised me warm and with love as deep as the
ocean. We all can do things that are out of our reach. Just believe. Do not
give up on flying to become a fish, Eudora-fish-goo-goo. – And so, in a last
provocation with a final tone of laughter and sweetness, his hand slipped from
her face to fall silent in bed, and all that was life and energy in the boy
vanished out of existence, shaking all hearts present to see.
Maar cried out in pain and hatred, her suffering and ripping her
apart, and among countless tears and gnashing of teeth, she gripped the fairy
silk sheets, burying her face in the soft mattress. The muffled sound was
terrible, like the scratching shattering of thousands
of porcelain pieces, a devastating cry of loss and anger. Her delicate fingers,
red and bruised, tore at the fabric as she buried her nails in search of
nonexistent comfort. The room remained silent, if not by her suffering, while
the afternoon fell apart ingave way to the
early evening, and Time did not stop to see the boy's death, leaving them to suffer
also the loss of the Day: filled [M5] only by the now empty body of Anghus and the terrible sound of a
mother forced to watch her son die. Pulling up the sheets, she crawled to her
son, took him in her arms and buried once again her face on his hair. She
kissed him in tears, hugging him tight, whispering softly.
-
Caroma Niima tearah you essi lei aighi...
– The grandmother uttered the phrase, as if it also brought her deep feelings
of grief. She could feel it deep down her throat, crushing her heart, burning churning her
stomach. There was little in the world to her that could be close in terroras terrifying
to her than watching a son or daughter die. Cleaning the tears
that silently rolled down her granddaughter’s cheeks, she translated it, even
if it
did bear her pain at every wordevery word caused her pain.
– My heart shall suffer until I see meet thee again
...
Taranm walked around the bed and leaned to meet her, as
if thinking he could warm her empty body, to comfort her somehow, but stopped
inches away, unable to touch her, taken by grief himself, without not wanting
to interfere withing with hers. His
expression of pain mingled with horror, despair, as if unsure where to
start to feelhow to feel at first. If the
princesses belonged to mothers, queens, those who were born boys, the princes of
fae, belonged to their fathers and all their teachings. Taranm seemed to miss
half his existence there, before Eudora, before his wife, before the child
asleep forever and before the court that was there to witness it.
Eudora did not dare move from near the bed, even though
she had her eyes brought down in respect, staring at the ground, not knowing
what to say neither how to feel, as well asjust like Taranm.
There was, in fact, no way to comfort thecomfort for that
terrible loss, even if she had fought at the expense of her own future, to save
them from that pain. No one dared to say anything, numbed by repeating the same
phrase Maar chanted, also with weeping hearts until all could meet again in the
Kingdom of the Souls. Eudora could hear the sniff of whimpers and contained
sadness, crying sounds that never escaped her eyes, lips or nose. Deeply
feeling the pain, she still could not cry. But she suffered indeed, in her
heart, as if it were ripped out of her, to realize that what was taken from her
was something she never imagined to survive without.
Awakened from her thoughts by Maar, who finally moved,
she watched as the mother laid her child back in bed and covered his body with
fur blankets. She arranged his short hair that he inherited from her,
straightened his empty body. And then, like a queen, Maar rose again, elegant
and impassive, not looking at her husband, hugging her swollen belly, in which unborn
offspring grew, Anghus’s brother or sister. She let her eyes fall again over
the child that now belonged to Death, looking at the carcass of who, a day
before, was pulling on her hair and kissing her face. Swallowing back her tears
and pain, she gave way for her commanding presence to show again, until all
were forced to stop crying and look at her. She wiped her tears with her free
hand and sighed once or twice, until she no longer had a shaky disconsolate
soul, and, looking up in authority, she filled the room with the firm sound and
active voice of a Queen.
-
As the night falls in Mysticka,
and Summer opens its way to Autumn. The Reign of the Seasons, tonight, belongs
to me. – She said, so all the people in the room would realize that it was she
who was to be followed, she who was to be heard. – But even if it were a new
day of Summer, Breena, the Flower Born, would not dare deny me my vengeance.
With the gods of the Sun and the Moon as my witnesses, by Day and by Night, I
swear. Taking everyone here, from royalty to commoners, as well as the empty
body of my son, my firstborn, as witnesses, I swear. Absque will pay, every
drop of blood spilled in that urn, and every day my son was deprived to live.
Not a single soul will be spared, no prisoners will be taken, no mercy will be
extended. For the night falls in Mysticka and I, Maar, Skin of the Night, on behalf of the
whole court declare war against the Remote Kingdoms of Absque, and it shall not
cease while there is a creature living there or as the last son of the Remote
Lands still breathes. As it shall be said, it shall be done, bless the gods.[M6]
