Everflame: The Complete Series

by Dylan Lee Peters

  “Who are you?” he said.

  “My name is Rhiannon.” An almost translucent white hand appeared in the darkness and softly touched Densa upon his cheek. “Do you truly not know me?”

  Densa’s chest tightened as a realization that he could not believe resonated through his entire being. He was not suffering from madness. He could not explain why he knew the name the voice had given him, but he did. She was real. He was not alone in the core. As if rising from the depths of black water, the form of a woman appeared in front of him. The woman was long and slender; every part of her was white like chalk, even her hair, eyes and dress. She moved with a resigned sadness and every bit of her seemed to glow like…

  “You are the moon,” said Densa.

  “Is that all you remember of me?”

  “No…you are my mother.”

  Rhiannon smiled gently and embraced her son in arms that were both cool and warm. “I have missed you.” Densa was shocked and unable to speak. He had no memories to draw upon, but he knew this woman. Her voice was as familiar to him as his own. He knew that this was his mother; there was no doubt in his mind. “You were very young when you last saw me. I was not sure that you would remember.”

  “I do not remember,” said Densa. “I knew you. I know you. But I do not remember.”

  “Then, I will help you to remember. I will tell you of your history, my son, if you should like to hear it.”

  “Yes,” said Densa, still unable to believe what was happening, but knowing that he didn’t want to stop it.

  “Long ago,” began Rhiannon, “before time knew the days and before the days knew the hours, I was not as you know me now. I was proud and I desired to grow in my existence. There was one whom I wished to involve in my desires. I was in love. He was great and he was bright, and I yearned for his warmth; I wished to be close to it. I did what I thought would please him and made efforts to attract his gaze. I opened myself and allowed myself to become vulnerable, so that I might win him for a prize. Alas… It was not to be.

  “There was another. She was the one for whom he yearned, and her name was Earth. I was left cold and rejected, while Earth was filled with warmth and vitality. I knew suffering, while she learned joy, and in my loneliness, I was forced to watch their love for each other blossom into new life. Eight daughters Earth gave to him. Though it was a son that he desired most, and that was why they made so many attempts, but never did their coupling achieve his wishes. Earth was unable to bare for him a son.

  “So in my jealousy and bitterness, I showed to him what he could have had, had he not rejected my love. I created you, Densa. I created a son that was not his. He became furious with me. His anger became so hot that I knew I would not escape the punishment of his wrath. My thoughts turned to saving you from the doom I knew that I would face. So, I swallowed my pride, and pled with the only one who could help me. Earth agreed to take you from me, and to keep you safe. I will always be grateful for her and her nature. Shortly after I gave you to her, his wrath came down upon me and bathed me in terrible flame. I retreated into my core to save myself. I was able to escape death, but his fire left me barren forevermore.

  “To my horror, his anger was still not sated. He found you and placed within you a curse. He called it the curse of hope. He said that you, and any born to you, would know suffering for all of existence because you had this hope, and you would never be able to get rid of it. But he was foolish, and did not completely understand what he had done. With the curse that he had given you, was also the greatest power that has ever existed. He thought that hope would only bring to you suffering and pain, but what he failed to realize was that hope also gave you the ability to endure that suffering. There is suffering that comes from hope, but because of hope, suffering can never defeat you.

  “Suffering had defeated me. I was but a whisper of pity, lost in a void. So, Earth took you in and acted as your mother. She bore for you a girl, apart from his aide, so that you would not be alone. And the eight daughters also felt pity, and created for you a dragon and a griffin, so that you might know friendship. They gave to you things I could not, they nurtured you in ways that I could not. I am sorry, my son.”

  Tears welled in Densa’s eyes and slowly fell past his cheeks. He could not believe these revelations, yet he knew deep within himself that every one of them was true. “I am so sorry for you, Mother.”

  “Do not be, Densa. It is pleasing for me to see you now, grown and able to live.”

  Now sobs choked Densa and he was powerless to fight them. “But I have failed you,” he said. “I have made darkness in the world and now I am trapped by it. I have taken that which was given to me and I have wasted it and abused it, and now, hope burns inside of me with futility. I will never have… I can never be… I am nothing.”

  “No,” said the moon. “No, you are not.” And with those words, the moon opened the gate to her core, freeing her son from his black prison. Densa rubbed eyes that had grown weak from the abysmal darkness and crawled out of the moon’s core, into the very dull light of the palace. “You have within you great power, Densa. You are at the mercy of none but yourself.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” said Densa as he looked back into the blackness of the core.

  “You have learned much, my son.” Rhiannon moved forward and placed a single kiss upon her son’s cheek. “Now go forth, knowing that nothing can stop you.”

  Chapter 22: Cruel Children

  Children are so cruel, thought Queen Faedra as she walked slowly down a clandestine staircase in the Royal Palace of Nefas. A blindfolded servant, who carefully carried a canvas sack that contained the man of metal, accompanied the Queen down the stairs. The young man struggled to navigate the stairs, blindfolded and burdened with his heavy load, but the Queen paid no mind. She was far too preoccupied with her thoughts. Why must the little brains of children be so cruel?

  It had been hours before a second vessel had been sent in search of The Midnight Grace, but as soon as it had, news spread through the just-waking Kingdom of Nefas. The citizens took to the streets, heading for the port. They kept vigil while they waited for their Queen’s return. The rescue mission had been quite simple, as The Midnight Grace had not traveled very far before losing its crew. The Queen was quite disheveled when she was found, sitting upon the deck of the vessel, next to the man of metal.

  “M’lady,” began one of the rescuers. “What has happened to the crew?”

  “We were attacked,” said the Queen, not knowing what to say.

  “By whom?”

  “I do not know.”

  “The ship is unharmed… you are unharmed…”

  “Yes,” answered the Queen. “I do not know why.”

  “What is that?” asked the rescuer, pointing to the heap of metal shining in the early light.

  “Cover it,” demanded Faedra. “No one must see it. Have it delivered to my private chamber.”

  “Yes, m’lady.”

  The rescuers were confused by the mystery of the situation, but did not make the mistake of questioning the Queen and her wants. She was brought on board the rescue vessel, The Midnight Grace was tethered, and then, all returned to the port at Nefas. As Faedra was escorted down the dock, the crowds erupted with cheers, celebrating the safe return of their Queen. Faedra smiled and waved, her spirits buoyed by her adoring subjects. However, the Queen’s smile faded quickly as the voice of a small, blonde girl, speaking to her mother, reached Faedra’s ears.

  “Mumma, why does the Queen look ugly?”

  “Shhh,” the child’s mother rushed to silence her. “The Queen has suffered a terrible ordeal. It is not fair to judge her.”

  Ugly? Faedra was shocked. Ugly? How dare that vile, little pest of a child call me ugly? I am the most perfect and beautiful woman in Nefas, the most beautiful woman in Ephanlarea, even the world. Ugly?

  Once the Queen had returned to her private chambers, she quickly found herself in front of a mirror and was immediately disgu
sted and horrified. The perfect, red lines of her lips had been smudged across her cheek and her gorgeous, blond locks were a tangled mess, but worst were her eyes. The normal, dark-black outlines that served as frames to her deep, blue eyes had run down her face, due to crying, in disgusting streaks.

  I look like a freak, thought the Queen, enraged. How dare they let me be seen this way?

  The Queen called for her beauticians and spent the next three hours having her appearance remedied. Immediately after, she gave the order to have her rescuers punished by death for their atrocity. They had insulted her, insulted her people and threatened the very identity and security of Nefas. It could not be tolerated.

  The Queen could not shake the voice of the little girl from her mind as she continued down the polished, stone steps. Ugly. Ugly?

  “Watch what you’re doing with that!” barked Faedra as her servant bumped her with the heavy-laden canvas bag.

  “I-I-I can’t,” stuttered the servant.

  “What did you say to me?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “W-W-Watch where I’m going. I-I-I’m blindfolded.”

  The Queen narrowed her eyes as she glared at the young man. Pathetic, she thought. Faedra snatched the blindfold off of the man’s head and he thanked her profusely.

  “Tell me,” she said slyly. “Do you find me attractive?”

  “You are the most beautiful woman in Nefas, m’lady,” said the young man, hoping that his answer was correct.

  “Do you find me desirable?”

  “I am not worthy,” said the man. “I would never dream to desire such things.”

  “I wish to know the truth,” said the Queen, narrowing her eyes and lifting her chin. “Do you desire me?”

  The man swallowed hard, knowing that a wrong answer could mean his death. He had the distinct impression that he was being lured toward danger, but was helpless to stop it. “Yes,” said the man in an awkward tone and held his breath.

  Faedra allowed the young man to torture himself for a long moment before answering, “as you should.”

  She turned back toward the descent and led the servant further down the stone stairs. There was little light as they continued into the depths of the Royal Palace, and whereas the stone had once been polished and flat, the stairs and walls were now becoming rough and uneven. The servant wondered if he wasn’t being led to a dungeon for some crime he was unaware that he had committed. The long descent finally stopped and led into a long, dark hallway, alit with dull, red torchlight.

  “Set the load down,” said the Queen, “gently.” The young man did what he was told and was then dismissed. “Speak of this passage to anyone and you will find yourself being fed to giant rats. Do you understand?” The man nodded frantically. “Go,” said the Queen.

  The servant sped away, quickly back up the stairs, as if fleeing a nightmare. Faedra looked down the long hallway and shivered. She then turned to a large, wooden door and knocked once. A moment passed, and the Queen pushed her way past a slowly creaking door and brusquely walked inside of the dark room that had been revealed. The walls were bare, devoid of any adornments, yet most people would have still considered the room cluttered and uninhabitable. The room stunk of rancid food, and dust covered large stacks of books, loose parchment, and generally large amounts of things. It was sometimes difficult to tell what was trash and what was not. Small gadgets and trinkets were strewn across the floor so that one had to watch where they walked, and it was not uncommon to be startled by an insect or rat. Queen Faedra simply detested being in this room, but at times it was necessary.

  “Are you here, Callderwallder?” she asked.

  A short and hobbled man peered, and then limped, around a stack of books. He sighed and rolled his eyes, one of which was larger than the other and clouded milky white.

  “Yes,” answered the man. “Where else would I be?” The small man continued to limp toward the Queen. “What is it you need help with now, another speech that needs to be written, or have you merely forgotten how to lace your own boots?”

  Faedra scowled and pursed her lips. “Much more powerful men have died for speaking to me that way.”

  “You keep telling me,” said Callderwallder as he sneered up at the Queen. “But then those men are not your brother. What is it you want?” The Queen led Callderwallder out of the stifling room and showed him the canvas bag on the floor. The man pulled the bag back, revealing one of Tomaton’s shining appendages. “What is it?” asked Callderwallder, running a hand through the thinning, blond hair on his head.

  “A man made entirely of metal,” answered Faedra. “I need you to make more, just like him.”

  The toady, little man looked up at his sister with suspicion. “To what purpose?” he asked.

  “I just… I just need you to do it,” said a flustered and irritated Queen.

  Callderwallder stood up slowly and he softened his expression. His large, milky-white eye stared at his sister, probing for answers. “What is wrong, sister? I can help fix your problems, just as I always have.”

  The woman lowered her icy guard and began to speak to Callderwallder as her brother. She told him of what happened upon The Midnight Grace, with the disappearance of the crew, the man of metal and the large being who she was sure was the Holy. She complained about the long hours she was stranded at sea and how she had cried so much. But her story did not stop with The Midnight Grace, and in fact, continued to include the harsh words of criticism that she had received from the small, blonde girl. One would have thought Callderwallder would have been shocked by the way the Queen gushed on and on about the hurt the little girl had caused her, trivializing what was obviously a much more important event. But the small man knew his sister well; she was self-centered and had a weak mind, a perfect queen for Nefas, the kingdom of fools as Callderwallder often called it.

  “Children can be so cruel,” lamented Faedra.

  “Yes,” agreed Callderwallder. “They can be cruel.”

  And Callderwallder did know the cruelty of children, all too well. It was as a child that the small man had first learned how cruel children could be. As a young boy, Callderwallder had proven to have a very sharp mind. He was good with figures and with the written word; he had a very sharp wit and the ability to recall facts astonishingly well. Callderwallder’s parents had wanted him to become a doctor, for the boy had also shown an affinity for working with his hands. But the boy’s white eye left him shunned in most social situations, and so, he wished to be involved in much more private work. Callderwallder loved metal, and wished to be a blacksmith. He loved the shaping, the pounding and the ability to use his creativity, so, his parents searched for a blacksmith where he could begin an apprenticeship. This also proved difficult, as most of the blacksmiths refused to take on Callderwallder due to his repulsive visage.

  “He’ll drive away my customers,” they would say.

  However, one blacksmith finally agreed to teach Callderwallder. His name was Douglas, and though Douglas already had one boy he was teaching, he took pity on Callderwallder and agreed to make time for both boys. The other boy’s name was Hollis, and at first, he and Callderwallder got along well enough, but it was not long before Hollis began to look at Callderwallder as a threat.

  Callderwallder could outperform Hollis in every aspect of blacksmithing. He was faster as well as more efficient, and he also brought creativity to his work that Hollis could not hope to achieve. Hollis became bitter and resented Callderwallder, and as it often does in young boys, his frustration manifested itself into violence. One day, when Douglas had left the boys alone to attend to a delivery, Hollis struck at Callderwallder like a coiled snake.

  “Could you get those tongs for me, Callderwallder?”

  “Which?”

  “Those over by the wall.”

  Callderwallder had walked over to the wall, on the other side of a large pile of cannonballs, to search for the tongs. As he did, Hollis removed the wooden support underneath the p
ile of balls, and they came crashing down upon Callderwallder’s body, knocking him to the ground. Hollis, realizing that he had gone too far, rushed for help, as Callderwallder lay trapped beneath the steel.

  In his later years, Callderwallder often wondered if it had been fortunate that he had survived, or if it had been a curse. All of the boy’s major organs had been spared and he suffered no head trauma, but many bones in his body had been broken or shattered. Callderwallder was forced to spend many years confined to a bed without the ability to move. His only friends were books and the world that he could see from his window. It would be years before he would be able to swing a hammer again.

  However, Callderwallder never lost his love for blacksmithing, and once his body repaired itself, he again pursued the trade. Unfortunately, two major problems affected his ability to become a productive smith. First, though Callderwallder’s body had healed, it had not done so perfectly. He was forever to be hindered by a limp and a humped back, and his bones were more fragile now, causing the need to work slowly. Without the ability to work quickly, he was unable to meet consumer needs. People were willing to go with a lesser skilled smith in order to have a job completed expediently.

  The second, and most harmful factor that prevented him from fulfilling his aspirations to be a blacksmith was Callderwallder’s younger sister. The young Faedra was beginning to find success in her political career. Unlike her brother, Faedra was a remarkable beauty and her superlative aesthetic quickly launched her into the seat of royalty. Callderwallder was now a liability to his sister’s success. Those who were ugly were very often ostracized from society, and many times, so were their families. The new Queen could not have her detractors exposing any sort of blemish. An intolerant society and an ambitious sibling forced Callderwallder into hiding, deep within the darkness of the royal palace. He served as the Queen’s main advisor and her most private secret, her necessary imperfection.