Mythia: and the Awakened Beast

by Margie Mandell

  The senior knights surrounded Tribus in an even rectangle and lifted him up on their shoulders. Regulus held onto Mythia as they glided down the stairs and followed his father at a slow march. The procession was immediately joined by the rest of the knights in rank order, with the Rejicio soldiers behind them. All citizens walked casually in the sidelines and around the hills and fields, trying to catch a glimpse of their fallen king.

  The procession turned around the northern corner of the tremendous castle and entered the royal graveyard. In the very center stood the tallest most ornate gravestones, honoring all of the fallen kings and queens before their time. To the right of the royal monuments were newly dug holes lined up in long rows. Knights of Trigonus and even soldiers of the Rejicio laid upon the dirt by the graves they were to be buried in.

  A jolt of grief hit Mythia like a boulder to the head as she recognized Ventus’s croppy blond hair, dressed in a proper knight’s ceremonial armor, both hands placed gingerly onto the hilt of her sword that rested gently across her belly. She lay with the rest of the knights, not with the Rejicio. Tears threatened to overpower Mythia. Regulus had made sure to give Ventus a proper knight’s burial. She lay amongst the highest ranks, small and innocent in death.

  As the body of King Tribus was carefully lowered into his own grave, a sound came from the surrounding fields. From far off in the distance, it bounced through the empty skies and carried its way over. Someone was singing. A voice both pure and haunting.

  “The king must lay as the moon goes down,

  But a good king takes his reign.

  Like the sunrise says, lifting from the ground,

  The good king comes again.

  A mighty peace from within us,

  The promise land of Pax shall bring.

  Hic est autem rex bonus,

  And this shall be the good king.

  And this shall be the good king.”

  More voices were joining now, a chorus blending in together from all over the crowds, mixed in between the hundreds of people.

  “Now all the beasts they take their flight,

  To keep us people safe.

  So precious king come find your light,

  To keep us people safe.”

  The earth reverberated with the sounds now. Mythia glanced around, realizing the song was only coming from the Rejicio people, dressed in their telltale fur lined leather, scattered throughout the surrounding hills. She recognized Pater amongst the group, singing with his eyes closed and hands held up in the air. Some of the soldiers were now joining in, including Krea, Zane, and Miles, their voices strong and steady.

  “The good king takes his reign again,

  The beasts all take their flight.

  It’s time to find our land again,

  Now that everything is right.

  The Spiritus has blessed us with,

  The truth and guidance too.

  We are His people, chosen ones,

  We are here to guide you through.

  The king must lay as the moon goes down,

  But a good king takes his reign.

  Like the sunrise says, lifting from the ground,

  The good king comes again.

  A mighty peace from within us,

  The promise land of Pax shall bring.

  Hic est autem rex bonus,

  And this shall be the good king.

  And this shall be the good king.”

  As the song ended, its last remaining notes carried itself out from the crowd as the Rejicio people slowly walked out of the rolling hills and down the paths toward the gates of Trigonus. Then the Rejicio soldiers marched out in a long, straight line, weaving passed the crowd and following the rest of their people. Only a few remained behind, but most of them marched straight on, repeating the song again as they walked out of the city towards home.

  21. PAX

  Mythia turned toward Regulus, her eyes landing on his, burrowing into them, never wanting to leave. The last few knights and families of nobility trickled slowly away from the royal graveyard. The clear sky was starting to darken as twilight fell upon them and the dozens of newly formed graves, the dirt upon them darker than what surrounded it. The quiet of death, those who gave up their lives whether for evil or for good, infiltrated through the air as a coldness sank with the dying sun.

  Regulus bore his emerald eyes into hers, his ash hair blowing gently in the slight breeze. He had a look of pain on his face, his jaw clenching and unclenching repeatedly. Mythia sensed he was trying to hold in a great and inexplicable amount of grief. He had been holding it in for too long.

  Tears swelled up in his eyes. Mythia brought her hand carefully to them and stroked his face from his cheekbone to his chin. He grabbed at her hand before she could lower it down and pressed it against his cheek, closing his eyes, ingraining himself into her fingertips. She slowly raised her other hand and embraced his whole face. His eyes fluttered open, his blond eyelashes flecked with sparkling tears. He blinked them away as they trickled slowly down his skin, and without them he gazed fiercely at Mythia between her hands. He lowered them and held them firmly to his chest. She could feel his heart pounding, faster and faster as the moment passed. And suddenly he was closing the space between them and pressing his lips into hers, drinking in the essence of her being. The electricity between them sparked and buzzed and shot off into the darkening air, surrounding them in a whirlwind of blazing fire and lightning. They stood there pressed together, neither of them ever wanting to let the other go.

  Then Regulus pulled slowly, carefully away. His green eyes slightly closed as though in a daze. His cheeks flushed from the heat between them.

  “I love you,” he whispered to her for the second time.

  Mythia pulled him down to her lips again, for just a moment. She kept her face close as she whispered back, “I love you too. Forever.”

  Somewhere beneath the dark clouds of grief, Mythia felt herself floating. She held onto Regulus’s hand as they bid a final goodbye to those resting beneath their feet. They walked slowly out from the graveyard and around the towering dark castle that will never again hold the presence of King Tribus. Never again would Ventus walk those halls and serve righteously beside Mythia. Never again would Lord Ulric haunt her.

  They walked up the stairs and through the wide opened double oak doors to the sound of clapping. The knights stood in lines on either side of the entrance hall, cheering on their new king. Regulus bowed to them, a smile breaking across his face. Mythia still felt as though she were in a dream, flying high, high, above Trigonus, as they were escorted into the dining hall to a magnificent feast that awaited them and all the noble families who attended the funeral.

  Regulus sat at the very head, taking the place of his father. Mythia resumed her original seat to his right-hand side, suddenly missing the presence of her father, Lord Animus, who once sat beside her. Lord Pileus, Sir Fort, and Lord Rowan all took their places a few seats down the table, followed by Lord Egbert from Monoceros, and many other nobles and knights she recognized but did not know the names of. Then came in, to her happy surprise, the Doctrine, Titus, still being supported by his wife, Ustrina, Krea, Zane, Miles, and Ten. They all sat around the table, their faces filled with delight at the incredible banquet before them. They sank into the empty seats surrounding Regulus and Mythia.

  Regulus stood up. The rest of the table followed. “No need for that,” he announced. Some of the nobles laughed softly as they all sat back down. He lifted his goblet that had been filled with the rich crimson wine and a frown formed on his face as he stared at it. Mythia was immediately reminded of the first night she had met King Tribus, who had drunk far too much wine. Regulus eventually replaced his father’s goblet with one full of water to help him sober up, since he was beginning to flirt too obviously and make a fool of himself. “No need for this, either,” Regulus muttered, his thoughts apparently in the same place as Mythia’s. A few more chuckles raised from the table. His face suddenly became se
rious.

  “Tomorrow is my coronation,” he sighed. “But I’m uncertain as to whether or not I deserve the title of your king. I know this is unheard of and breaks pretty much every law ever written in the past thousand years, but I was hoping everyone at this table could hold a vote.” Murmurs floated down the long dining table. The Doctrine raised his eyebrows. “You all hold a special place in my heart, and I trust your judgement more than anyone’s.” He glanced over at his friends. “And if you are all in favor of my crowning, please take a stand.” Regulus sat down and waited. Without hesitation, everyone seated stood up tall and straight. Each noble lord and lady and every knight. Except Titus.

  Regulus looked at him curiously. Titus cocked his head to the side. “I recall a conversation between us, that consisted of you mentioning something about this moment. About lifting a certain someone’s bounty… once you are king?” Regulus looked confused for a moment before his face broke out into a wide grin.

  “I believe I said might, not definitely.” The two friends smirked at each other. “But I’ll break you a deal. Become a knight of Terra and I’ll lift your bounty. Or don’t, and I’ll lift it anyway. But we could use someone as courageous as you.”

  Titus appeared to be considering this for a moment before pushing himself up with a grunt. “I’ll do it. But only with you as my king.”

  Mythia peered down the table at all their most loyal friends and allies with pride. When she looked back at Regulus, he had stood up with them, and was staring right at her.

  “And do you, my lady Mythia, accept my reign as king?”

  “It is your destiny to be the next great king, sire,” she replied simply.

  The Doctrine nodded. “It has been written in the legends, Regulus. Do not doubt your destiny. You’re doing the right thing.”

  Regulus slid his eyes around the table and raised his goblet of water. “Then so be it.” A dozen or so goblets were raised in response, the silver metal shimmering against the flickering torchlight. The moon streamed down upon them from the tall, curved windows. The three great beasts formed by the colorful glass panes appeared to be watching, as somewhere within the three cities, the real, living forms protected their people.

  ◆◆◆

  Mythia slipped her hands out from Regulus’s as they reached her chambers. He leaned in and kissed her gently with his soft lips. He watched patiently from the hall as she closed her doors. She let out a slow sigh, alone in her room. Collapsing onto the poufy white comforter, a small smile glued to her face. She stared up at the ceiling, letting her legs dangle off the side of the bed. Seeing only the face of Regulus when she closed her eyes.

  A quiet knock on the door and the pattering of light footsteps woke her. For one sweet moment, she opened her eyes expecting to see Ventus carrying a tray of breakfast, but it was not Ventus that had entered her room. Someone she had never seen before, a girl not much younger than her, with black hair pulled back into a bun and deep brown eyes. Her dark skin held a soft, golden glow. She gently laid the tray down and curtseyed to Mythia.

  Mythia sat up on the same spot she had fallen asleep, still in her sparkling black gown. The night had quickly turned into day throughout her deep slumber. Her mouth hung slightly open as she took in what she had been pushing away for too long. That feeling, although fleeting, that it was indeed Ventus who entered the room, reignited a pain so strong it ignited her soul. Ventus flashed before her eyes and the pain embraced her like an old friend. Tears pushed themselves out before she could stop them and suddenly, she was sobbing so hysterically that the new servant’s face turned into a confused frown. With only a moment’s hesitation, she scampered over to Mythia and wrapped her arms around her.

  Mythia cried into the servant's shoulder, grasping at her tightly as pieces of her fell apart. She clutched desperately, clinging on, feeling if she let go, she would fall into the empty chambers of grief. It wasn’t fair. Ventus’s life was just beginning. Why did it have to end so soon? She shook uncontrollably as every last ounce of her tears made their way out. The servant stroked Mythia’s hair, and waited with an abundance of patience until Mythia had finally finished crying.

  She pulled away, feeling slightly embarrassed, as she wiped her own face from the fallen tears and dripping snot. “I’m sorry,” Mythia muttered with a sniff.

  “Don’t be,” the servant responded. Her voice was deep and mature. She smiled warmly. “A loss of a loved one is a tragedy like no other. A pain unique in its own world, that can not be compared or contrasted with any other ache or ailment.” A look of understanding filled the servant’s warm, brown eyes.

  Mythia hiccupped and let out a shuddering sigh. “Did you know her?”

  “More than that,” she answered. “Ventus was like a sister to me. But we had an argument nearly a year ago, and we stopped talking.” She appeared to be choking on her words. “I just wished I was able to fix our relationship before she left.”

  “Who are you?” Mythia asked.

  “My name is Castus. Or Cast, for short.”

  Mythia suddenly wondered why Ventus never mentioned her old friend. Then she realized she hardly knew anything about Ventus’s personal life and felt an immediate sense of regret. If she could just go back in time and speak with her again… fill all the silent voids they shared while living in the castle. She would never take a moment of her life for granted ever again.

  “Thank you for your comfort,” Mythia suddenly said. She sniffed again and stood up then hustled over to the small table and sat down. She glanced quickly at the abundant meal before looking back up at Castus. “Eat with me?”

  ◆◆◆

  The coronation was held at noon in the throne room. Regulus wore an exquisite, long sleeved, white tunic with matching pants both finely engraved with silver unicorns that were only visible when the light hit them just right. A light blue cape, the same shade as the knight’s but longer and more elegant, flowed out from behind him. He stood in front of the tallest throne in the center of the three, with Lord Pileus and Sir Fort standing by his side. Pater, who apparently had the power of inaugurating a sovereign into office, stood to the opposite side, dressed in long white robes tied with a simple rope around his waist. Mythia stood in the very front row of the audience. The Doctrine fidgeted between Mythia and Ustrina. Regulus had appointed both the Doctrine and Ustrina as council of knowledge for the royal court. Titus, Krea, Miles, Zane, and Ten stood to her left in their shiny formal armor and pale blue cloaks as the newest knights of Terra.

  The choir yet again rang out an entrancing melody from a balcony high above, as Pater raised Tribus’s old crown, thin and silver with the crisscrossing triangles, and laid it gently on Regulus’s head. The audience bellowed out louder than Mythia had ever heard, with a strength and certainty like never before. “Long live the king! Long live the king! Long live the king!”

  ◆◆◆

  Regulus dug through the papers at his father’s old desk. There were piles of them, sorted in some sort of chaotic order. Mythia sat patiently in a red leather chair by his side, peering out the window as beads of rain slid down the glass. As soon as the coronation had ended, he ran off with Mythia to do exactly as his father had asked. He dug through parchment after parchment until finally, he found what he had been looking for. A scroll as ancient as time itself with the word “PAX” scrawled upon the front in faded ink. He slowly unrolled it, surprised by how little was written on the old, stained parchment, expecting there to be more. He glanced over at Mythia who suddenly noticed his pause, and she rushed over to peer down at the scroll from behind his shoulder. It read:

  FOR ONLY THE EYES OF ROYAL FAMILY- THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE MOST NOBLE LORD AND LADY OF DRACONIS, TO KEEP THIS MOST IMPORTANT INFORMATION A SECRET THAT MUST REMAIN IN THE UTMOST CONFIDENCE.

  In the beginning, Terra was founded by the great Dragon King. He had been banished from his own land far away, a serious consequence for the damage he had committed there. It is this land that you must
return to if the Dragon King’s reign ever comes to an end. Not until his blood line has been defeated or simply diminished will you be allowed back- you will know this when the heir is no longer of the house of the great Dragon. It is said by the Videns of Terra that a savior without a mark of the three beasts will appear shortly before the end. This unmarked will awaken the gifts within all of the kingdom and a great battle shall defeat the Dragon King. This information must only be passed down from Dragon King or Queen to Dragon King or Queen and may be shared with the nobility of Draconis, whose ancestry to the Dragon King keeps them pure. Keep in mind that if the unmarked can not conquer their quest, then the reign of the Dragons will not end, and you will never be able to leave the island.

  OTHERWISE YOU WILL BE FORBIDDEN TO ENTER.

  Regulus slowly lowered the parchment as the last few words dangled in the air. Mythia’s jaw remained slack and her eyes glazed over. He looked at her. “There’s more outside of Terra?”

  She licked her lips which had suddenly become dry. She breathed heavily. “Leave the island…” She shook her head, confused. Then suddenly she gasped. “Bello.” Her eyes caught hold of Regulus’s and they both stood up in earnest and rushed out of the king’s chambers. They ran down the hall, passing a series of confused knights, until they reached Bello’s heavily guarded room. The five knights that stood outside of her door holding bows and swords moved immediately out of the way at the presence of their king. One of them slipped a key quickly into the doorknob and pushed it open.

  Regulus and Mythia rushed in to Bello lounging on her bed, draped with brown curtains. She appeared to be enjoying herself, popping grapes into her mouth directly from the vine.