Another one today!
“Everything I have done has always been to keep you and your brother—“ My mother begins as I pack her room, as the horses are being prepared. “Don’t.” I say forcefully. “Just. Don’t.” I say almost pleading. “It doesn’t really matter right now.”“It matters! I am a good mother!” She exclaims. “To someone, maybe.” I respond coldly. “It seems to matter to you, you hold such a grudge against me!” She argues. “Your perception of reality is filtered through the lens of your guilt.” I say as if quoting scripture. “What did the Ancient Sisters say about the moon ceremony?” She asks directly. “That none of the coven should interfere.” I say pointedly. “Very well. Blessed be on your journey and claiming your destiny.” A wound had been inflicted but quickly buried with a detached smile. “You will be returning to the estate after the ceremony, correct?” She asks quietly. “Correct. I will come to retrieve my brother and meager belongings.” I confirm. “We may be able to figure something ou
Riding a horse is a boresome chore. The monotony of it all coupled with the discomfort make it a loathsome journey. The horse is amiable enough and is happy to follow behind Ethan. He slows his pace for my benefit, his stature on the horse much more natural than mine. We trot along on a small riding path, not large enough to be considered a road, but wide enough to accommodate a couple horses. Trees bend above the path, shading us from the oppressive heat of the sun, only small swaths of sunshine find their way through. While the ride itself is tedious, the feeling of freedom is tremendous. Out on a horse in the world, nothing holding me back. “How far is the ride to the inn, Ethan?” I ask, breaking the wall of silence between us. “Not too far, m’lady. We should find ourselves there by tea.” He says calling over his shoulder, his eyes trained on the roadsides. “Thank you.” I call back. Tea was at least two hours from now. If two hours was not too far, I shudder to think
“M’lady.” He says with a bow at the edge of my small table. “Would you care to join me?” I ask, offering the vacant chair tucked in neatly across from where I sit. A small smile tugs the corners of his mouth upward, only for a moment, before his unaffected expression settles back on his face. His eyes cold and steely, framed by thick lashes. The Gods always waste the best lashes on men. His eyes are shaped like almonds with a defined brow, making any expression he has both sultry and mysterious. He pulls the chair from the table and gracefully sits down. His movements are so fluid like a perfectly choreographed dance. “Ceres, how lovely to see you.” He greets as if we randomly bumped into each other at a spot we both frequented. “Yes, it is lovely to see you as well, Kai, and quite surprising.” I say and then gracefully lift my teacup and take a sip of tea. My eyes looking to him directly over the edge of my cup, as I try to make sense of this visit. “Don’t worry, none of the
The room is small but pleasant. A small window allows for some natural light to spill in. My luggage is neatly stacked upon the bed. I open the box with my gown. I pull a hanger from the wardrobe and unfold my gown from the box and hang it on the hangar. I cannot believe I possess something so magnificent. Am I to believe Kai and his premonition? Did he even have one or is this his attempting to manipulate me? “I wouldn’t put it past her.” Theia growls. “My mother hasn’t always been the best, but would she really interfere with my moon ceremony?” I ask, unwilling to believe it. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” My guardian says solemnly. “Her intentions may be good, she may be trying to help.” “I understand your need to defend fellow witches of your tribe, but let’s be real, she’s selfish.” Theia spits. “Maybe he is lying.” I offer. “Maybe.” My guardian says. “We don’t lie to our sisters of the coven though, but he is not a sister. Warlocks are always focu
I do not know what animal died for this meal to be made, but it did so in vain. Even as hungry as I am, I struggle to take a single bite. If you told me this was filet of old shoe, I would believe it. The viscous sauce is a muddy brown with a weird sheen to it. It smells mostly of salt and raw flour. Some sort of mush is on the side covered in the same viscous goo rendering it completely inedible. I poke at it as the sauce continues to congeal. “Everything all right?” The waitress asks. The expression on her face tells me she hopes I do not respond. I force a smile on my face. I hope it looks more like a polite smile than a grimace. “What is this?” I ask out of morbid curiosity. I could see a crack in her smiling expression. She was bracing herself for a torrent of complaints. “Venison back strap.” I frown. What a waste. “Roll?” She offers, pushing a basket towards me. Her smile overbearing and forced. “Sure.” I say and she promptly places the basket in front of me. “T
We all know we are going to die. Nothing is forever. You just do not expect death when it comes knocking on your door. The most important thing to do in any situation is to stay calm. Panic overrides all your senses. It paralyzes you. It turns you into easy prey. I scan the area around me. An open field is between me and the inn and the tree line is only a strip of grass and a small grove of pomegranate trees, their thorns threatening if you dare to venture too deeply, away from the woods. I sense danger but cannot see it. I make myself small, like a fox laying in grass, about to make a mad dash across the field to the inn. It was like a dream, the way the wolf walked from the trees, padded feet silently stalking me. My attention the other way, scanning the field before darting across it, him lurking like a spider who has already trapped their prey. I am slithering on my belly in the grass when I hear his growl. Flipping myself quickly, I realize it’s too late to dart to safety. I
Breathless, I enter the inn. My appetite now gone, my hunger pains muted by fear and anxiety. I quickly make my way to my room, hoping to get there without any other interaction. I dart quickly up the stairs and stealthily enter my room. “What the fuck.” I say emphatically as I shut the door to my room and lock it. I look to my dress hanging against the wardrobe. I don’t feel as though I deserve to wear something so pure, my soul is stained by what has happened. “This isn’t your fault.” Theia whispers. “Isn’t it?” I challenge. “I put those thoughts into his mind. I toyed with him!” “When you plant thoughts, that’s all they are. Thoughts. Seeds.” My guardian offers. “How their mind puts those thoughts into action is a reflection of their character, and not your fault. The environment in which the seed is planted is just as important, if not more so, than the seed itself.” “Thank you, great philosopher.” I bite back. “That’s great, in theory, but let’s discuss reality. H
I’ve never seen this place before. The mist is so heavy, I can barely make out the outline of the trees ahead. My feet crunch fallen leaves and twigs as I run through the forest. My dress is long. The material is diaphanous, a gauzy gold that shimmers as it moves and catches the light. I can hear the pounding of hooves on the ground, a roar in the distance. I’m not clear on if I’m running towards them or away, as the sound seems to echo around me. My wrists are cluttered with stacks of golden bangles, clanking in the rhythm of my stride, a beautiful song with a frantic beat. “Asteria! Asteria!” I hear a name called in the distance. “Hurry!” The thuds of approaching horsemen is deafening, they will surely discover me even under the cover of thick mist and forest. A small hollowed log rests against a tall tree. I decide to crawl into the hiding space to see if the horsemen approach. “I can smell her.” A man says somewhere near. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” He calls om
Some oaths cannot be broken. The thought tumbles in my mind. “It is true. The consequences can be dire when breaking a promise. An oath is sworn with your life.” Theia warns. “A witch is nothing without her word. Our whole existence is built upon the truth that words are powerful and have meaning. A covenant is an agreement, but an oath is a solemn promise. Breaking an oath is not a simple undertaking. The consequences of such actions can be catastrophic and change who you are entirely. To break an oath is a choice of darkness. Embracing the worst that this world has to give.” Asteria chimes in. “Last night, for me, was filled with dreams and nightmares. They don’t even all make sense to me at this point. A mix of my memories, and what I assume the two of you were seeing.” I say. I made an oath to the King, but I would break it in a heartbeat if I thought I could do it and continue to keep my head. Are oaths really oaths if you are under duress? Or is that simply fealty, a forced
I hear a soft rapping at my door. I tear myself from the sheets like a petulant child, stomping towards the doorway. The warmth of my bed calling to me. I don’t think I’m ready to be shoved into a bath and corseted into a gown. I feel as if I have not even shut my eyes, let alone gotten any rest. “I’m coming.” I say, in a decidedly grumpy voice. I put the most sincerest grumpy tired face expression that I can muster, and open the door. “What?” The hallway is empty. I cannot even hear distant footsteps of maids and servants performing their daily task list. A list that starts the moment their eyes open and does not end again until they close. The realization washes over me with shame. I think back to the endless hours, scrubbing dishes, scrubbing floors, standing over hot stoves. I looked to my arms to see all the faint scars I have accumulated over my years. Each one with their own story. The time I sliced my hand open or when I burnt myself on the edge of a pot because I wasn’t t
Your highness. I suppose it is better than being a slave, though your name is surrendered just the same. Instead of no one caring to know your name they are forbidden to speak it, it’s traded in for formal titles. This elevation does not bring freedom, rather luxurious chains, forced to follow antiquated traditions. It is not the same as being an actual slave though. To compare it as such is a denigration. A lie. One cannot be both slave and master, though it seems even masters have masters to bow to. The breakfast I consumed without having to perform any labor only underscores my place in the pecking order, now far above the one I used to enjoy. I struggle to enjoy my new position when Dmitry has been left behind. I should rest though. I am to be a bride today. The wedding is less about me and more about the future of the monarchy. The continuation of Malakai’s line through history. I am only the womb used to usher in this future greatness. The wedding itself is largely performat
“Breakfast is already in your chambers.” Phoebe reassures, her delicate hand still clasping mine. “Thank you, Priestess Phoebe. I appreciate your consideration.” We fall into a comfortable silence. The floors of the temple are cold on my naked feet, my soles made soft and delicate by the last month of wearing shoes. I am only steps away from being a Princess, living a fairytale and touring the Kingdom. I cannot help but feel tragedy lurking in the shadows. A beast so insidious, patiently waiting to strike at your most triumphant moment. The climb up the social ladder feels like a climb that ends with me jumping to my death. I breathe deeply and allow the sound of our swishing robes lull me into calmness. I am greeted by the smell of breakfast when the door to my room is opened. “Such a feast!” I squeal like an excited child. “Your eyes are bigger than your stomach.” Phoebe scolds. “Then join me, priestess. There is more than enough for us both.”“Thank you, m’lady.”The formalit
Ceres“Papa! Papa! I think I have something!” I squeak. My little body wiggling, unable to control the overwhelming excitement that has washed over me. My tiny childish hands reach for my father, precariously balancing in the small rowboat. “Shhh! Hush. You will scare away all the fish.” He says gently. His heavy hands lovingly placed on my shoulders, calming me instantly. “You have plenty of time to make waves in your life, you need not do it when we are trying to fish.” He gently scolds. “Yes, papa.”“Now, let’s check that line. Reel it in gently but steady, then flick to set the hook.” He demonstrates the process on his own rod. I begin to reel it in, quietly squealing with glee, pulling it in as my father had shown me many times before. Springtime on the lake, learning to live off the land. “You must be able to provide for yourself.” That is what my father would say when I would complain about waking before the sun. Early morning on the lake is what heaven must be like. The w
Theia The air is crisp, the dew covers the ground and little droplets stick to my fur like tiny little pearls. Running in this form is so freeing. I wish it could always be just like this. “Catch me if you can!” I call as I weave through the branches and mossy stones. I do not even see his form, a shadow in the darkness, when he pounces on me and we roll down a small embankment. “Gotcha!” He gleefully remarks. The heat from his body presses against mine and I do not struggle or squirm under him. I am content to be here in his snare. “I didn’t even see you!” “Did you say that you owe me a wish? Do I now have two?” “No! I made no promise of another wish granted. I do owe you one though, so choose wisely.” He looks deeply into my eyes. “Yes. I will have to be thoughtful in what I choose.” I could get lost in his golden orbs. The fire in his stare. His darkness to my light. “We should go. The sun is already threatening to break the horizon. Dawn is here, it is o
Theia “The sun will rise soon.” I murmur. I stretch my legs out lazily. “We can speak of magic some other time.”“Some other time.” Erebus parrots back. His voice slow and lazy, as if considering the next possible occasion. “You are not lying if we agree to keep what has happened between us.” I say, breaking the silence between us. “That is quite literally called lying by omission.” “No, it’s keeping something sacred between us.”“You can dress a sow in silk gown, but that will not make her a Queen. Just because you call it something else doesn’t make it something else.”“Two things can be true.” “Yes, I suppose. That doesn’t mean it sits right with me.”“Oracles are not the Goddess. There is no guarantee that my mark will even look as the book tells it.”“Your optimism knows no bounds.” He quips sarcastically. “We pledged ourselves to one another. This bond is above all others. Period.” I growl, his insistence on calling me out is getting under my skin. No one wants an honest a
CeresDarkness can swallow you whole. The void of nothingness. I cannot even see Theia or Asteria anymore. Their thoughts are shielded from me, yet I can feel the veil thinning. I can feel my resurgence, my resurrection into my physical form. It is coming, I can feel the electricity in the air. “Ceres!”A voice calls to me from the abyss of nothingness surrounding me. I do not recognize the call. It is not Asteria or Theia’s voice calling. No one else should be here. “Come my child, come to my voice.”I have read enough fairytales to be suspicious of mystery voices calling from the dark. Their honeyed calls disguise their horrific intentions. Harpies calling from the cliffs, lulling you to your death. Do such creatures lurk in this place, this in between space, where I have no control? I am just a battered ship being tossed around the sea, only to steer myself into a rocky grave, calling to me so sweetly from beyond my vision. I will not blindly go towards the faceless voice in the
Theia“There is no affection in power. Power consumes all and no price is too high to pay to keep it. Edward may believe that his Grandfather’s love for him is unconditional, but I am not so naive.” Erebus growls. “Any threat to the King’s power will be eliminated. Period.”The truth weighs heavy. Silence settles within the cave. “Will the Immaculate Mother reveal the truth to the King?” I ask after a long bout of silence. “You said it yourself. Information you do not know, but want; is valuable.”“I have not read the myths of this prophecy. The Oracle Chronicle of the First King. I believe that is what the Immaculate Mother called it. Have you or Edward studied this?” “Edward is aware of all the sacred texts of the Kingdom. He has spent his entire life preparing to be King.”“What will he do when he discovers that I am the defender of the faith? Destined to fight in a battle and be the savior of the Kingdom? Will he see that as treason and address accordingly?”“I would like to sa