Chapter Two

•PHAELIN•

THE DAY BEFORE THE DESTINED ENCOUNTER

           I took small steps as I wandered in the ruins of an ancient temple. The place was familiar. The soothing breeze made me halt. “Phaelin…” A voice once again. I turned my back to see who it was. Then, I saw a stern and unyielding man walking towards me.

           Lothaire.

           He was holding his helmet and his onyx-colored cape danced with the wind. The rhythm and weight of his footsteps matches with the beat I feel on my chest. I met his calm gaze. “Why am I here?” I asked.

           He stopped and stood in front of me. He replied, “You do not have to know.”

           “Why are we here?” I asked once again, emphasizing the first word. Every graceful blink of his eyelashes makes me want to be drowned in his profound, eerily serene eyes. Always a relentlessly cold combination of azure and ash.

           He gave me a deep sigh and smiled, “You would not understand and the Weavers would not let me declare it.”

           “Weavers?” I countered whilst my eyebrows met. I was certain that I had heard that term before. I tried to think. His smile disappeared.

           He avoided my question and said, “There is nothing to be afraid of.”

           “I am not afraid, Lothaire” I answered. The way he acted brought confusion to my thoughts.

           “Keep in mind at each moment that I will bring you no harm,” he said whilst staring deeply into my eyes.

           “I never doubted you, but I do not understand” I said in response.

           He breathed and paused before answering, “I need you to trust me.”

           His eyes were pleading—communicating something that his lips cannot deliver. “I want to trust you…” I replied in a breaking voice. He let out a painful sigh sounding like a solemn sob.

           His expression squeezed my chest with enough pressure. “I will leave now,” he mumbled in an audible tone.

           He turned his back and I felt a sharp sting inside me. I reached out for his cape. “Lothaire…” I uttered.

           He looked back at me and replied, “All is well, little flower.”

           I let go of the cloth as I ran out of words. I stared at him as he headed towards the darkening distance.  

           Daylight hit the side of my face as I gained consciousness. The bell was ringing outside and a person was calling. “Mail for Phaelin!” he shouted. I swiftly stood up and went downstairs. The door revealed the mailman and it was from my mother. She wrote a letter stating that they would not be able to arrive tomorrow as their flight arrived later than what they expected. She did, however, pledge to come home with my cousin Brilo and throw another celebration.

            Galikore and Froyo Dominicus are my foster parents. My mother is the one I am closest to. She has a kind and gentle soul. I remembered the day when I asked her about how I became a member of the family. She stated she found my being in a basket in an afternoon of spring. She said that she was the one who named my being Phaelin. They are the most wonderful parents I have ever known. They have loved me like I was their own. I could not ask for more.

           Yet, there are times that I question my existence. Blame me not for I was a child who never knew where she came from. I question my purpose. I wanted to know why I was left alone in a basket. I sought to know who I truly am. I always felt like a piece—one that would complete a puzzle.

•⚘⚔⚘ •

Lothaire's Demesne

Underworld Realm

Great Hall of the Palace

•LOTHAIRE•

           The arrival of my betrothed will be tomorrow. I went out of my chamber to appraisingly look at the groundwork of the palace. I strolled along the great hall. Everyone was bustling around—greeting as I passed by. I glanced at the previously decorated walls that reminded of the past and the wars I have been through.

           The ornate windows are scattered generously in seemingly perfect symmetry. Without knowing its history, anyone would be fooled if this lair of mine is newly built or a well-kept one. The place is filled with pure gold, silver, glittering black obsidian, and marble portico.

           I saw my reflection on one of the pillars—a mirror image of a god who has all the wealth but not all the warmth he can get. I know the truth will jolt her—may bring either amusement or disappointment. There is no assurance that after I tell her I am the God of the Underworld; she will still agree to be with me.

           However, there is no harm in trying.

           “Your majesty,” Azael appeared in front of me and bowed.

           I gave him a nod and he rose.

           “I have called the chefs—Bartolomeo Scappi and Cristoforo Di Messisbugo—to help with our cooking. They are currently in the kitchen and they want to be acquainted with your opinion about what to serve in the main dish. They do not have any idea on what entrée will fit the queen’s taste,” he uttered.

           I bid their souls to come. They were recommended by Daciana, my sister who is the goddess of Hearth.

           “We cannot foresee her desire for food. Bring her all that they can prepare but tell them to be ready if she will ask something to eat particularly,” I answered.

           Azael nodded in concord.

           “Indeed, your highness,” he replied. He bowed once again and left. I continued walking.

           The orchard of pomegranate trees, hemlocks, lilies, and red poppies can be seen outside by standing at the entry hall. They were vibrant and splendid, making my being remember Phaelin’s grace and beauty.