“Salan, you ready yet?”
“Um, give me ten more minutes.”
“Well hurry up and powder your nose!”
I checked the closet for another white-collar shirt, but all I could find was a green turtleneck. This will have to do.
I tried it on. It had no buttons, which made it much easier. It took me even longer to tie my shoelaces, both Elizabeth and Seraculus were outside the door.
“Salan, are you decent?” asked Elizabeth.
I glanced in the mirror and I gazed at a rich hippie. The long hair didn’t help my cause.
“Almost done.”
I turned around remembering I had forgotten about the tie. Trying it on, I realized I didn’t know how to tie it. I got desperate and tried some hunting knots. One of them was a bowline, which I didn’t want to rip, so I used my foot. I soon realized that this was meant to choke prey and that I'm one of the biggest idiots on the planet.
Before I could retry anything, Elizabeth said, “Cover it up. I’m coming in.”
She walked in and saw the mess I had made. She shook her head.
“I guess I should’ve asked for help huh?” I mumbled.
“No, this is my fault. You only have one hand.”
“I shouldn’t have activated my aura. I’ll pay for the shirt when I get the money, I swear.”
“Absolutely not! You’re 19 years-old. No one should have to do that,” erupted Elizabeth.
Seraculus followed behind her mom.
When she saw me, she laughed, “You are such an idiot!”
“I’ve never owned a suit before, I don’t know how to tie a tie, and I only have one hand.”
“You know, you could ask for help instead of being stubborn.”
“Salan, I’ll help you get dressed,” said Elizabeth.
She grabbed a new white-collar shirt from another house cabinet and helped me with the put it on. As she did them up, she looked at my back. My back still had 20 whiplashes as well. There was no hiding the damage done to my body. Seraculus noticed my scars as well. She said nothing, but when our eyes met, I could hear her saying what happened to you? Elizabeth was silent too, though I knew how she felt as well.
“Here, this is how you do a tie. The rabbit bounded away with the fox snapping at his cottontail. Once around the tree, the fox chased the rabbit. Twice around the tree, they ran. The rabbit darted under a bush, away from the fox. And dove right into the safety of his cool, dark hole,” she sang as she tied my tie.
I put on the jacket, and everything went together smoothly. By that time, Tora had returned, and we all left for church. Right before we left, Sanoj followed me out. I put my hand on her head.
“Sanoj; you can’t come.”
“Meow?” Sanoj perked up her head.
When she understood, she moaned with disappointment. I took a knee beside her.
“I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
“Meow.”
Sanoj turned around and went back inside. I felt guilty for leaving her behind.
“She’ll be fine,” Tora assured me.
As we walked a group of reporters were being held back by guardsmen. There was a ramp that was cleared just for us.
“Why don’t you both fly instead of taking the ramps?” I asked.
“Because we’re a family. Also, flying for us is equivalent to a fast-paced jog.”
“That makes sense.”
I paused for a moment and then remembered my question for Tora.
I whispered, “When do I get my arm back?”
“Right now, the scientists we gave it to are drooling over the technology. So it will take a bit more time.”
We walked for about ten minutes until we reached a glowing tree, like the one on Tora’s lawn. The gothic church had a Minyades figure at the top. The figure was falling onto a sword that went through his heart. The statue included people underneath with bowls to capture the blood. The blood formed into a red trim outlining the black-wood church. What was more disturbing was that Minyades’ figures biting into the one falling onto a sword.
There were guards to stop any journalists from getting into the church, and they kept an electric barrier to prevent people from crashing through the windows. The church had two big golden doors covered in engravings of mythological stories, most of which were gruesome. We walked on a red carpet that ran to the front of the room. The church was lit entirely by candlelight. Although the windows were stained, not much light passed through. There were just enough candles to illuminate the room. The air reeked of incense.
After presenting identity papers to guards, people started to funnel into the church after us. They needed identity clearance with the guards as a precaution. We sat down on one of the many aisle benches. When I peered up at the roof, it glowed with a golden sword design. Some Minyades wore necklaces or bracelets with the same Minyades figure. The figure was also present behind a man on a podium. He wore black robes embellished with golden designs. The man at the front rang something that sounded like a cowbell but had the shape of a triangular prism.
“Everyone, please be seated and adhere to the one true lord Mendaxia who took on the burden of all our sins,” said the Minyades’ at the front.
“And let us be thankful for his blessings,” responded the congregation.
After this ritual call and response, everyone sat down, and I followed suit. Some people stared at me as discretely as they could; I didn’t blend in.
The Minyades’ at the front began to speak again. “Please open the Soran and read along with me. Page 27, paragraph 1.”
There were books that fit on the backs of the aisle seats. Each with a black background and the symbol of Mendaxia falling onto the sword. They were thick books. Seraculus grabbed her own and opened it so I could read along. The pages were black, and the lettering was gold. The books seemed expensive. I had no idea what was going on, but I played along out of respect.
“Let us be thankful of the All Being, who had the purest blood of a god, but the looks of a Minyades. The All Being created Mendaxia to guide us. But let this not show that he does not love all equally. On his arrival, Mendaxia was hated by the Felis kind. The Felis did not see him as a creation of the All Being but just as a normal Minyades. He fell on his sword to stop the Felis uprisings. Mendaxia said to thee, ‘Give the people my blood, for it will give them courage. Give the people my flesh to eat, for it will give them wisdom.’ For the Anti Being was the evil of this world. With it, we all suffer, but without it, we don’t become stronger. The Anti Being created the Bastil, a being that killed us in the depths of the Black Forest. Let it be shown that Mendaxia said, ‘Suffering will lead to strength, do not be afraid of death. For anyone who gives his life for the All Being will be in eternal bliss.’ All of those who are sinful shall suffer from the Anti Being.”
The others continued to read, but I stopped. How do they know this to be true? Who is Mendaxia? Who wrote this book? I leaned closer to Tora who sat on my left, tugging at his suit. He tilted his head down to listen.
“Who is the man at the front?” I asked.
“He’s the magician. His job is to grant holy magic to all.”
“So, you guys do this every week?”
“Yes, we do.”
“He says an Anti Being created the Bastils. How can this be true? Sanoj is my best friend.”
“This is a religion; therefore, one must take a leap of faith. This belief gives hope to people. It does a great many things.”
When we glanced up, the magician glared at us. We went back to paying attention.
“Now that the introduction for this week is over let me start by saying Kyra and Raphia have been with us for seven years now.”
Everyone clapped, and I slowly mimicked them to fit in.
“I know it must be painful losing your daughter. She was a special girl to you, and she was an Abundan. She was blessed with the All Being’s powers,” said the magician.
A woman at the front of the ro
om started to cry. Her husband comforted her.
“Do not worry, for the All Being tells me that there is a good chance your daughter is alive,” he walked over to the weeping mother and put his hand on her head. The woman clutched an icon around her neck and slowly stopped sobbing.
“Let us all join hands and send our blessings to Jefora Serinclos,” said the magician.
18- Dehumanization
“Even today we raise our hand against our brother... We have perfected our weapons, our conscience has fallen asleep, and we have sharpened our ideas to justify ourselves as if it were normal we continue to sow destruction, pain, death.”
― Pope Francis
I stood up and was about to speak. Tora put a hand on my shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
“She was in the facility.”
“Don’t say anything.”
“They deserve to know; I would want to know,” I hissed.
“Is something wrong?” asked the magician, with some irritation in his voice, All the Minyades glared at me. When I glanced down Tora shook his head.
“Never mind,” I sat back down.
They continued to talk while I whispered to Tora.
“Why? Why should I be quiet?”
“Because you are a prince about to become a king.”
“I still don’t understand. Do you believe in this religion?”
“I’m a politician; I can’t afford not to.”
“They’re parents who want to know what happened to their daughter. Don’t they deserve to know that she died?”
“And how will the press twist that against you? Think about it. Do you want to tell them that you couldn’t help her?”
I paused, “I did all I could with what I knew at the time.”
“Doesn’t matter to the press. They will do everything in their power to make you into a man who wouldn’t help out.”
“But that isn’t true!”
“They don’t care about truth. All they care about is a story that makes money. You’re going to be king soon; you need the best reputation possible to stop the riots.”
I felt useless. I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but if I were a parent, I would want to know the truth. To sacrifice my morals so that more people could live in Faslow. What a world we lived in.
Seraculus looked over, curious about our whispering.
“What’s going on?”
“Just asking some questions about the church.”
I wanted to be open with her. But, how could I? How could I tell her such a tragedy? Is it wrong to give people false hope to obtain happiness? Is the bitter truth better than a sweet lie? If I were younger, I would tell the truth, but I don’t know anymore.
Tora leaned over, “You should not have to bear such a burden. I’m sorry for leaving you during that trial.”
His bat ears were down, and face was solemn. He truly meant what he was saying. I didn’t blame him for his decision. He thought of his family first. I just wish I had a father who would have done the same.
“I forgive you. I understand why you hated me when I was with Seraculus now,” I whispered.
“You are wise beyond your years.”
The welcoming incense turned bitter. My throat seemed to tighten. The environment was revolting to me.
“I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“You’ll have to stay Salan, or it will look bad.”
“This scripture mocks the Felis. This place is for people seeking false hope. I’m not so desperate.”
This place did not welcome me. I could tell that people stared at the corner of their eyes at me. The whispers began again, and it reminded me of my old school days.
“Wait Salan!”
I silently tried to walk out of the room.
“For what reason are you leaving, Felis?” shouted the magician.
I turned around and smiled. “I feel sick. I do not wish to insult what you are doing here, and from what you have said, I don’t belong. I’m sorry for causing a disturbance, magician.”
“As you should be. Get out of here if you are not interested in praising our lord Mendaxia!”
I gripped the door to exit, but I stopped. Before I opened the doors, I glanced over my shoulder. My mouth had a mind of its own.
“You know, all my life I’ve been treated as an outsider. I never had too many friends because of my appearance. Your god Mendaxia accepts all, but you still hate me. Sorry for disturbing you, but I’ll be leaving now.”
I opened the doors, and as I was about to shut them, Seraculus rushed out. Her family followed. They led me back to the house, past the drooling reporters. Once at the mansion we spoke.
“Why? Why did you follow me? You could have stayed,” I said to the family.
“What kind of man leaves a boy with morals behind?” replied Tora.
“But I thought—”
“To hell with the press. They can construct all the lies they want. They’re good at that. This is my way of saying I’m sorry for your suffering.”
Seraculus blurted out, “For the last time, what the hell happened to you?!”
This time I had to answer her. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. With grim resignation, I told her everything. If I couldn’t tell the truth in that church, I would at least do it here. I pushed past the tears and told her everything. During the whole time, Seraculus eyes were wide open. Near the end, she hugged me.
“Please; no more. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have done something,” she said.
“Done what? What could you have done?”
“I don't know!” she said, gripping me tighter and sobbing.
“Seraculus, please let go of me. I’m fine.”
That was far from the truth. I felt broken, but I will not let her bear that burden. Her comfort felt wrong; it felt like I was spitting on Cassiella’s corpse.
“I need to be alone with Sanoj for a while,” I mumbled.
I went upstairs with Sanoj and shut the door. She curled up next to me.
“Meow,” purred Sanoj nuzzling my head with her own.
“No Sanoj, church was not good.”
“Meow.”
I held onto Sanoj’s black fur, “Promise Sanoj, no matter what happens. No matter what difficulties we face. Please, don’t leave me. I don’t know what would happen to me if you left.”
“Meow.”
“Yes, I love you too Sanoj.”
The bedroom door shut and locked. So many people who cared about me have left me in my lifetime. I felt like the mythical black cat. If you cross my path, it’s a bad omen.
After a while, I went downstairs to meet with the family. I had six more days until I had to return to Faslow. Mourning solved nothing. I confronted Tora.
“Tora, let’s start working on my speech.”
“Are you sure? You can take a break if you want?”
“No, we should start now. It’s too important.”
Tora didn’t argue. He understood I was using work to smother my sorrow.
“Alright, let’s get started.”
We went to Tora’s office. It had a mahogany desk with stacks of scattered paperwork. The guest chair was a brown pincushion seat, and a black pincushion seat with gold threading was his chair. Tora handed me a pen with some paper. I tapped the pen on the page.
“Relax Salan. We still have six days. I know how to make a speech. You should start with introductions. Although it may be hard, you should start with what happened to you and your mother.”
“OK.”
I started to write down the story of what happened. How my father was the real king, and how I was legally the heir to the throne due to being male. I showed what I wrote to Tora, who read it over and made a few corrections.
“So far so good. This is a good summary of what happened. Remember, we are on a strict time limit. Queen Mammon will not hand over her throne so easily. This is a minute-long explanation. We will have ab
out four minutes to broadcast in the vicinity. After that, they’ll probably block our broadcast. Also, you must be on a balcony so that everyone can see that it’s you. It makes the speech genuine. So now they understand where you are coming from. What do you want to change?”
This was a difficult question, but I knew one thing for sure.
“I want no one to suffer for being different.”
“Noble words, but we’re going to have to change the minds of people in three minutes. People have spent a lifetime trying to get others to open their mind, and still failed. This will not be easy.”
I wrote down some laws and passed them over to Tora.
“This is good, but it will be difficult. Are you sure? You know what you are giving up?”
“Positive. It shouldn’t be me.”
Tora leaned back in his seat, “Alright.”
I wrote what should happen to the queen along with the others involved in the murder of my mother. Then I handed the papers over to Tora.
“No, Salan. This punishment is too severe.”
“That’s not even close to what they did to me.”
“A leader’s actions dictate the people’s actions. If your action is revenge, will that stop the riots? Or will an act of forgiveness speak louder?”
I hated this. She should held responsible. She belonged in prison. My veins went black with anger.
“What would your mother have wanted you to do?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled petulantly.
“Yes, you do. Don’t give into hatred. Hate brings more hate.”
I thought back to the speech Mr. Finch gave me about how our emotions affected those around us. Then I scratched out my original plan, drafting a new, nobler version. I handed it over to Tora. He started to edit some pieces of it. I broke the silence when I remembered something.
Untold Deception Page 24
