Rebellion

by J. D. Netto

“Athalas erased from the Council’s memory the truth about their immortality.” King Demyon stared at Demetre in grief. He laid one of his hands against his back. “You see, the Creator also gave them a choice. If any Council member chose to have a child, immortality would be taken from them. Due to Diane’s gift, she knew of Athalas’s actions, but remained silent. One month after they fled Justicia, Diane was pregnant with you, Isaac.”

  My lips quivered as King Demyon’s words drifted into my ears. My parents had renounced immortality because of me.

  “While Lune was still pregnant, she and Paul rode to Bellator, seeking my council. Unaware of the memory they had been deprived of, they informed me of their commitment to Lucifer, but they never told me that their child had been destined to be a host to a Fallen Star,” King Demyon added.

  Demetre raised his head. The salt from his tears had dried against his skin, leaving a trail down his cheeks. I was concerned for my friend.

  Silence lingered over us. Nathan reclined against the wall, his hands crossed on his chest. With a despondent stare, he watched the snow fall from the sky.

  King Demyon turned to Demetre. “On the morning Cyro attacked Diane and Dustin, they managed to go to your house, Demetre, only to find your parents’ lifeless bodies. Diane and Dustin brought their bodies here, to the castle—”

  “Athalas said they died in the fields, along with Isaac’s parents.” Demetre shook his head, gnawing on the left side of his bottom lip.

  “It is no surprise that Athalas lied.” King Demyon raised his eyebrows.

  I leaped up from my bed, wrapping my arms around my friend.

  “They didn’t know the outcome of their choice, Demetre. You mustn’t blame them for wanting a child…for wanting you.” King Demyon stood to his feet, making his way to the door.

  Nathan knelt next to Demetre. “Do not weep over unwise choices. Smile for the choices you can make—choices that will shape the future of many.”

  Demetre lifted his head and his bloodshot eyes met King Demyon’s.

  “How…how did my parents die?” Demetre’s voice was caught in his throat.

  “Bravely.” King Demyon’s lips curved into a smile.

  Demetre took a shallow breath. “I need to be alone,” He trailed his fingers across his dark hair. “I need to…”

  “Of course.” King Demyon darted his gaze toward Nathan. “Show Demetre to the garden, please.”

  “Of course.” Nathan rose to his feet. “Follow me, Demetre. I believe you will be able to gather your thoughts in the garden of the castle.”

  Demetre fumbled his way to his feet as I helped him stand. His complexion made it seem as if he had slept out in the bitter cold for hours. All were silent as he trudged out of the room.

  I felt the king slip something into the palm of my left hand.

  “What is this?” I stared at an old piece of parchment paper, stamped with a red lion-shaped seal.

  “Your parents brought me this. It is a letter that they found in Demetre’s home.” As I twirled the paper in my hands, I saw Demetre’s name written in Lune’s handwriting.

  I felt my chest constrict as my tears returned again.

  “You want me to give this to him?” I feared his answer.

  “You are the only one that can give him this letter right now, Isaac,” King Demyon affirmed.

  I touched the scarlet seal of the lion that had been pressed into wax on the parchment, then analyzed the tears and rips on the edges. I held the last words my best friend’s parents had written to him—words that might contain answers to so many questions.

  King Demyon laid his left hand on my shoulder. “We will have a special banquet prepared for you and the others tonight. Let Demetre have his time in the garden. I will have someone come and escort you both to the throne room.”

  I heard the door lock after King Demyon stepped out of the room. All the darkness and loneliness I had experienced in the Wastelands felt insignificant compared to what this letter meant to the both of us.

  I approached the window. The dark clouds and falling snow covered Bellator. Towering gray mountains surrounded this kingdom, reaching beyond the cloudbank; their peaks were covered in a permanent white blanket.

  So much darkness, I thought.

  I closed my eyes in an attempt to disconnect myself from this present situation. I had just awakened but I felt burdened; a weight rested on my shoulders. I searched for memories that could spark joy within me, ones that had the power to reawaken hope.

  I struggled to ignore the fact that the dark memories easily overshadowed the joyful ones. I saw my parents’ faces, tried to remember the sound of their laughter, but in an instant, the ash-covered terrain of the Wastelands erased their faces from my mind; the memory of the corpses of those that lingered between the Abyss and Tristar haunted me. Apparently, hopelessness was clouding my mind, keeping me from regaining strength.

  I tried to visualize the mornings I would go up the Hill of Mehnor with my father, Paul, and Demetre to go fishing at the river. Life was not burdensome back then. My mind tried to remember the color of the grass, the smell of the field of flowers, the clear water of the river. These memories were also shattered by the invading image of the Wasteland Desert. The only sound I could remember was the howling of the frigid wind that created sandstorms of massive proportions under the red and purple skies. The scarcity of life in the Wastelands had deprived me of the ability to find joy inside of myself. Defeated by my own memories and thoughts, I opened my eyes and wept bitterly, wondering how I’d had so much strength, courage, and will to fight for the Creator, yet so little hope and joy within my own heart.

  II

  I found some clothes folded on top of the fireplace: a simple white, collarless, laced neck shirt with a dark beige pair of pants. My boots rested next to the settee. A heavy brown coat hung next to the fireplace.

  I picked up the shirt and was startled by the sound of an object dropping from atop the fireplace. Sorrow took me as I stared at the book on the ground—the Diary of Lucifer. I laid the shirt on the bed, bending over and picking up the object. The moment the palm of my hand touched it, voices and whispers echoed in my ears and my hands began to tremble. After a while, the voices ceased.

  How can such a small thing hold so many secrets? I thought. I placed the book on top of the fireplace along with the letter, fighting away the tears that tried to return.

  Through the foggy windows, I was able to see a glimpse of my reflection. My eyes could share stories of their own if they had the ability to speak. I touched the bruises and wounds on my body, knowing they were reminders of the battles and struggles we were all going through.

  As I analyzed my fallen countenance, I heard soft knocks on the door.

  “Come in,” I ordered in a broken voice, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands.

  I looked over my shoulder and caught sight of Nathan walking toward me. “Isaac, Demetre needs you right now.”

  Silence hovered over us for a moment. His statement burdened my heart.

  “Show me the way to him.” I gazed at the letter for a couple of seconds; thoughts, questions, and answers coursed through my mind as I reached for the piece of paper.

  In a friendly gesture, Nathan rested his left arm on my shoulder.

  “Remember the things that give you hope, Isaac.”

  I lifted my eyes. He had a soft grin stamped on his face. Little did he know that the memories that gave me hope were being overtaken by those that brought me fear.

  I absorbed the beauty of the castle as we began to make our way down the grand hall. Silver chandeliers hung from the dark wooden ceiling, holding white candles that burned with a bright blue flame.

  “Why do these flames burn blue?” I asked Nathan, my eyes set on the strange-burning fire.

  “These candles were made with white dragon’s blood, which gives the flames their odd color,” he replied.

  “The dragons that aided us in battle,” I said.

&n
bsp; I absorbed the details of the mosaic that covered the top ceiling. Its bright colors depicted mountains surrounded by clouds with waterfalls that cascaded like a bride’s veil, creating a flowing river at the base. As Nathan and I continued to amble down the hall, the colorful mountain depiction changed to a dark night sky with a full moon in the middle.

  Purple flags drooped from the high-top ceiling, touching the gray floor. They had the emblem of a white dragon. Canvases with beautiful painted landscapes hung throughout the hall, meticulously placed on every empty spot.

  We proceeded in silence, coming to a round staircase. The newels were shaped like white dragons; the balusters created curvilinear patterns that trailed all the way to the bottom, merging onto the statue of a white dragon, its open mouth revealing a set of razor sharp teeth. Its scales were similar to a snake’s; its wings were expanded to full length.

  My grasp on the letter tightened with every step as I descended. The aroma of cinnamon invaded my nostrils. Torches burning with bright blue flames were placed around us. Servants dusted off the expensive vases, statues, and furniture. Above us was a glass dome with a chandelier crowded with melting candles.

  We stopped in front of a double wooden door. Patterns were etched throughout its surface; the knob was of a silver color.

  “He is on the other side.” Nathan’s voice was low.

  “You aren’t coming?” I asked, hopeful. Maybe it would be easier to give Demetre this letter with someone accompanying me.

  Nathan shook his head. “No, Isaac. I know what it is you carry, and you alone must hand Demetre this letter,” he answered. “I have matters to discuss with King Demyon.”

  “Alright.” I grasped the knob with one hand. I opened the sturdy door, expecting to feel the frigid air, but was surprised once I saw the scenery in front of me.

  The grass was green, and the trees bloomed with flowers—their fragrance intoxicating the air. Little rivers flowed in peaceful streams. Wild vines were laced around the trunks of the trees, which had their branches colored with red apples.

  Throughout the garden were statues of white dragons. The same incandescent blue flame I had seen inside the castle burned inside their mouths. The garden had been built inside an enormous glass room.

  What a place, I thought, contemplating the massive monument.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of low sniffles and sobs. The sounds led me to Demetre, who sat next to one of the streams. I removed my coat, laying it on the vine-covered bench under the apple tree.

  He shot me a mournful glance over his shoulder; his glistening eyes met mine.

  “This place reminds me of home in the summer,” he whimpered. “The streams, little rivers, the trees…”

  I sat next to him.

  “I miss home.” The sound of a small stream filled my ears like a soothing melody.

  A moment of silence reigned over us. I didn’t know if my presence was improving things or causing Demetre more pain.

  “We have been friends all of our lives.” I cleared my throat. “And I always felt like I could save you…tried to, at least.”

  “You have done more than that, Isaac,” he whispered, letting out a half smile.

  A whirlwind of emotions stirred inside of me.

  “I am afraid I cannot save you from this, though.” My hands trembled as I handed him the wrinkled letter. Some of the red wax from the lion seal had stained the palm of my sweaty hand.

  Demetre frowned.

  “What’s this?” He looked down at the paper.

  I let out a soft breath.

  “The last words from your parents. My mom and dad found the letter when they entered your house before Cyro attacked us that morning.”

  My heart accelerated. Demetre caressed the letter, analyzing every detail. He touched the seal, the torn edges, and then he saw his name.

  “My mother’s writing” He narrowed his eyes, biting the left side of his bottom lip.

  With great care, he scratched off the seal.

  “Read it!” he suddenly exclaimed, handing me the letter. My eyes widened. “Please, read it,” he repeated with a whimpering voice.

  “Are you sure?” I asked with a gaping jaw.

  He nodded in silence, deviating his eyes from me.

  Demetre, we know not where you will be when you read this letter. Our bodies grow weak as we pen these words. We know they will come for you at dawn, for in dreams we saw this day coming. Our minds were unveiled to memories that had long been stolen from us. Please forgive us for not revealing to you the danger we have put you in. It was not because of immortality that we surrendered our bodies to the Darkness; it was because truth was stolen from us.

  Your dad and I desired you, but we failed to wait. Uncle Dustin and Aunt Diane will share the truth with you once you show them this letter. Know that we have loved you always. We long for the day we will see each other again.

  Farewell.

  With Love, Mom and Dad

  Every word felt like a dagger going straight through my heart. With trembling hands, I folded the wrinkled paper and handed it back to him. Demetre was silent, gazing at the clear waters of the little river. The tears had stopped rolling down his face. He had his fingers pressed against his forehead.

  “I am sorry,” I said, wrapping my left arm around him.

  He exhaled a sign of relief.

  “I needed to hear those words” His chin quivered. “I needed to hear from them what had happened.” He gave me a half-hearted smile as he wiped his nose.

  I am sure he understood my puzzled expression.

  “It is one thing to have strangers tell you what happened, what my parents’ intensions were,” he continued. “And another to have your mother and father inform you themselves. My heart feels comforted. I thought they had fled, without any warning, without caring.” His face turned to me. “I thought they were cowards…”

  We remained seated in silence, gazing at the flowing waters of the small river. I was relieved that his parents’ words did not bring him such a heavy burden.

  “Their bodies are here,” Demetre muttered. “In this garden.” He trailed his hand across his hair.

  My eyes widened in surprise.

  “How do you know this?”

  “Nathan,” Demetre affirmed. “See those statues?” He pointed at two white statues that sat far to our left. “King Demyon built those as a memorial. Their bodies lie under the ground beneath them.”

  Even from afar, it was obvious that the statues were built in the likeness of a man and a woman.

  “Are they…were they made to look like your parents?” I feared that my thoughts were right. Demetre responded with silence.

  “But I don’t want to see them.” He bowed his head, resting it on his hands. “I am not ready—especially my dad.”

  My hope was that my presence alone was enough comfort for him at this moment. I had no words that could ease his pain.

  “We overcame the darkness of the Wastelands. I will be fine, Isaac.” By the sound of his breaking voice, I knew he once again was holding back his tears. “I wish they could see us now,” Demetre continued. “I bet never in their wildest dreams did they think we would get as far as we did.” He raised his head to me, letting out a thin smile. “I wish my dad could see me now…”

  “I cannot disagree with you on that one,” I affirmed. “I still wonder about my parents’ whereabouts. King Demyon mentioned that they came to Bellator and left. I wonder where they went.”

  Demetre grabbed a small pebble and tossed it in the stream.

  “Be glad that there is at least hope that they are alive,” he said. My left hand covered my mouth, making its way to my forehead as I nodded. Demetre was right.

  “To my father, I was always so weak and fragile. I presume he saw in me the outcome of a his wrong choice.” There was a distant stare in Demetre’s eyes.

  “Regardless of what he saw in you, my friend, in the end, only you can decide what your fate a
nd journey will be,” I said.

  Demetre nodded his head. His cheeks were red and his face swollen.

  “I wonder how they built this place,” I said, trying to diverge from the subject.

  “It is quite a sight to behold, isn’t it?” Demetre replied in a low voice. “The blue flames keep this garden warm.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked, standing to my feet.

  “Nathan shared a lot on our way here,” he responded. “I suppose he was trying to comfort me.”

  “King Demyon said they are preparing a banquet for us this evening. He said all the book-bearers are to be there.”

  “Where is it?” Demetre suddenly inquired as I helped him stand, disregarding my previous comment.

  “The Diary?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said with an edge to his voice. “Is it safe?”

  “The Diary is in my room. I found it when I was getting dressed. I believe Nathan put the book there, along with my other things.” I started making my way back. “We should head back. We don’t want to keep them all waiting.”

  “I hate dinners. Ever since we left Agalmath, they never seem to go so well,” he said, catching up to my pace. I let out a soft laugh.

  “Let us hope this one goes better.”

  As we proceeded toward the door, I glanced over my shoulder, looking at the statues behind me. With my gifts I knew I might have been able to see the last memory they had before dying. Not going to them felt like a betrayal to me. Though I knew Demetre’s heart was too weak for such a sight, my heart felt heavy leaving them behind.

  “We will see them when you are ready,” I said. Demetre shot a quick glance at the statues. His lips turned into a hard line.

  “We will…” his voice trailed off.

  III

  As I reached for the silver handle, the door swung open.

  “Isaac, Demetre, you must come with me.” Nathan’s breath was heavy, and his eyes were tight and worried. “There is an urgent meeting.”

  “What is it, Nathan?” I was alarmed by the urgency in his voice.

  “King Demyon is calling us all to the throne room. We must meet the others now.”