The cold eyes that matched her own dark ones drilled into her, as if telling her all she knew about the treacheries lying within Elisandra’s cold, cold heart. Her mother had been kind, loving and supportive. What had made things as they are now? Elisandra had challenged her mother for the position as ruler of the Unseelie, but it had not gone the way she’d hoped. Her mother, Queen Analise had watched her daughter approach her throne, throw out the challenging words and had never flinched. She’d stood, taken her sword, which Elisandra had never actually seen her use, and had softly padded down the steps to stand in front of her only daughter.
“I knew this day would come. I am honored to die by the hand of my only daughter. But do answer me one question before we begin.”
Elisandra had stood there, waiting impatiently, ready to impale her mother with a virulent air. How so few words, calm like the eye of storm could disarm her so made her fume at the thought of it now.
“What is it, mother?” Elisandra had spat out, lifting her own sword as she readied to slice it through the body of the one nurturer she’d ever known.
Analise peered at her daughter, sadness finally surfacing in her dark, pretty eyes. The beauty of their line was never surpassed by any Unseelie. They were the untouchable in their looks, where other Unseelie would usually be consumed by the darkness of their kingdom, the rancid evil and treacheries that lingered over them, cursing them to this region of the Land of Faerie, Analise’s line had no such affliction. Their beauty was never marred, no matter how defective the soul within had become.
“What will you do when it is your own daughter standing before you as you do now before me?”
Elisandra had taken a step back, shaking at the formidable question her mother had just asked. How dare she assume her daughter would do such a thing to her if she would ever have one. How could she know if that would even happen?
“I’ll never have children. I’ll rule forever.”
Analise laughed. Her throaty defiance rang across the throne room, vibrating the place with its crisp sureness. It only angered Elisandra to be spited so by her own mother, but she waited, willing her fingers from tightening their grip on the sword and swinging it across her mother’s chest.
“You’re a fool to believe such things.” Analise ceased her laugh and inched forward, never lifting her weapon. “One day, you will have a daughter, one with hair as dark as the raven’s feathers, and a soul that will end up much darker than yours. You’ll never see it coming. You’ll torment her but she’ll never break. You’re the fool if you think this is the end of it all. No, she will haunt you from the moment she’s born until she cuts you down with her own magic and leaves you to wither and rot, just as you’ve done to me.”
With that Elisandra roared to life, lifting her sword and swinging it toward her mother. Analise met it with the sword she carried, her sadness gone. Her love, gone. Everything between them faded with one millisecond of betrayal and it stung Elisandra more than she ever could’ve imagined.
“I’ll take your throne, if it’s the last thing I do.” Elisandra hissed. Her unfounded hatred coursed through her veins, and she herself feared what she would do with it.
“You’ll never be the true Queen of the Unseelie. The ruler is chosen, not made. You are not the chosen. You’re nothing but an imposter.” With that Analise stepped forward, dropping her blade as she allowed Elisandra to sink her sword into her chest.
Elisandra was shocked at the ease of it all, along with a collective gasp throughout the throne room as the watchers whispered amongst themselves at the exchange of power. With that, the swirl of energy claiming the downed royal as queen left her as her body began to crystalize and wither away to nothing but ash. It then hurled itself into Elisandra, coursing through her veins and slamming its power into her soul.
It was disorientating, especially since it had not been done willingly. The power found her distasteful and protested as it bonded with her being. This forced unity made her sick and she fell to her knees, feeling the rush like a nauseating whoosh. Once it was done fusing, the silence surrounding her made her feel suddenly very much alone.
And she would be, and would remain so for several hundreds of years.
Chapter Seven
Aveta sat on the balcony of her room. The Withering Palace stood high above the ground, on the edge of a treacherous mountain that surveyed the lands beyond the Unseelie borders. The black taint darkened the trees here, kept a constant gloom hovering over the castle and land as if it was a funnel of black smog like the cities of humans had. But it wasn’t smog. It was the evil power, which left a sort of scar on the land, marring its beauty, marking it as the territory of the impure.
Aveta didn’t see herself as impure. She wondered why the Land of Faerie would be so prejudice and hold such things against her people. They did rage war a lot, but that was Elisandra’s doing. With the amount of land they had acquired from the Seelie, Aveta would be mighty content to rule it for a very long time. Maybe it was different after ruling for so long. Maybe after a while, it got boring and a ruler had to amass even more to stay happy. What then? What then when she grew tired of all which had been obtained? Would she change? Would her soul darken into a withered echo of itself, much like her mother’s had?
She hoped not. Pushing the thick braid of her hair over her shoulder, she cherished the sunset, a rich gold and peach color that reminded her of the poppy fields with Cranston. It’d been three years since she’d seen him. She had been confined to her chambers by her mother for unknown reasons three years ago upon returning from the fields beneath the Withering Palace.
Locked in a tower, alone.
This had made her bitter, angry and lonely. Elisandra’s time was coming fast. Aveta knew this better than anyone else.
Even Eladril had been forbidden to see her. No one came in, no one left. Her meals would appear out of thin air, probably casted into being by Elisandra from the other side. No servants to clean up or help Aveta into her clothes. The place would be magically perfect when she’d awaken in the mornings, no matter how trashed she’d let it become. It was enchanted. A bubble of purity that left her an immaculate prison. No escape, no interactions.
How long could she tolerate this without going mad?
*****
Cranston sat and studied the tiny entrance to the cavern from which Aveta would always emerge. It’d been far too long. Surely she’d died? He couldn’t be sure in any which way what had happened to her. All he knew was that entering the cavern would bring certain death in a vast labyrinth made of dark, withered things. If he could survive it, maybe he could find her. But he remained here, on the other side of the wall that held his beloved from him.
She was alive. He knew it. There would be no separating them for he loved her with all of his being and knew he would feel it if she’d died.
That cursed queen! How dare she keep them apart like this? He was sure she had something to do with it, but wasn’t sure. What could he do to stop it? He was but a farm boy from an uncharted Faerie territory, surely his powers were nothing compared to that of the dark queen’s?
He picked another petal of poppy flower and rolled it in between his fingers, letting the juice stain his fingertips with its scent. The tiny fluid that emerged was poisonous, but he, his family and Aveta were immune to it. He could poison the queen somehow. That could work.
The labyrinth. It was still the first obstacle and he had no idea how to get through it like Aveta did. She was different, powerful, and strong. He was nothing to compare himself to her. There would be nothing but death for him if he entered the labyrinth.
So he waited and stared day after day at the darkened entrance, his heart breaking ever so slightly as the days, months, years went by. Aveta needed him but he was trapped here, with no recourse on how to fix this. He’d wait forever for her to return, and she would return. He knew that was the only certainty of this life.
Chapter Eight
Elisandra looked at the
rising sun, searing her eyes as it rose over the eastern mountains. This day was tainted; she could feel it in her bones and down her spine. Something was going to happen today, but she could not put her finger on it, no matter how hard she tried to meditate and listen to the powers of the land around her. They shunned her, like the royal power had done so long ago. It still writhed with her, driving her mad after centuries of fighting it. Was her time near? Could that be what it was trying to tell her?
No. it could not be. She’d made sure Aveta was imprisoned forever in her chambers, never allowed to leave. She’d make sure that girl would rot and wither in her room, never to be queen. So what else could it be? What was bothering her so on this cold November day?
Walking through the hallways, she rushed down the darkened corridors, past the main ballroom, and down the steps to the soldier’s quarters, and right past that to the dungeons. Here, she stood, a gathering of her guards behind her, ready to pummel any soldier who got out of line. Nothing was down here but a retched stench and derelicts being tortured for all eternity. She briefly flicked her eyes into the cells and wondered if any of them had anything to tell. Most were lost in their own minds, maddened by the constant barrage of pain and tormented curses that’d been thrown onto them for endless deprivation.
Her eyes landed on one figure, sitting near the edge of the bars to his cell. His long hair covered his face and the filth stuck to his skin like it had embedded itself into it. He didn’t look her way but she could feel his consciousness listening to her. He would do. He was the closest to alive that this place could produce right now.
“You,” she approached the bars and stared at him as he refused to look up. With that, she motioned some of her guards forward to grab him. They entered his cell and jerked him to his feet. He groaned and shoved back, chains raddling back against the bars as he sucker punched one of the guards, sending him flying to the ground and stilled.
“Stop!” She commanded, sending a rush of magic to stall him in his movements. He yelped and crumbled to the ground grabbing at his stomach as she twisted it with her magic. “You will answer to me anything I ask you, understand?”
He nodded and let out a breath of air as she released him. He huffed, gasping to catch up breathing as he turned his head into the bars and stared out at the Unseelie Queen.
“Now, tell me, how long have you been here?”
He spat on the ground and cleared his throat, never removing his glare from the Queen. “I’ve been here ten years.”
Another yelp as the guard next to him kicked his side. “You will address the Queen as ‘Your Majesty’, Seelie scum.”
Elisandra held her hand up, motioning the guard to stop. “Now, tell me. Have you ever seen the princess down here?”
The prisoner rubbed at his side, the chains rattled louder as they clanked against one another. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’ve seen her many times walking down here, though she has not been here for a very long time.”
“How long ago did you first see her down here?”
“I—I believe not long after I became a prisoner here, ten years or so.”
“Did you know where she went that day?”
He nodded, looking curiously at the queen and up to her soldiers with disdain. “I believe she was headed toward the labyrinth. Though she’d always come back. No one survives that thing, so I heard.”
Elisandra rubbed her fingers together, turning down the long hall to the end, where the cavern to the labyrinth stood. The hairs on her back stood up like static and her fear ebbed up toward her throat, choking her breath off. Why would the girl go toward the labyrinth? She would surely die. Maybe she went to the entrance and never entered. Yes, she wouldn’t be so stupid would she?
“Very well. Anything else you noticed strange down here?”
The prisoner stared at the queen, feeling the pressure of her power pressing against him. He was stripped of his powers, but he could still shield her from his deepest thoughts if he fought hard enough. And this he did, for the beautiful Eladril had always brought him some food down here in this pestilence of a place. He would never give her up, even if it meant death.
“No, Your Majesty. Nothing unusual besides a little girl playing about.”
Elisandra kept her gaze firmly on his, never relenting as she probed at his mind. It made him wince at the pressure, but he did not collapse under it. After a few minutes of this, Elisandra let out a long sigh, waving her guards to drag the unconscious guard out of the cell and locked the prisoner back up.
As they walked away, the prisoner watched with lucid eyes as the Queen disappeared down the way. Leaning his back against the wall, he closed his eyes, exhausted from the invasion and tired of fighting. One day he would wither, if they let him, for the chains that bound him forbade him such a pleasure, to join the afterlife. Maybe, just maybe, one day he would find his way back home and out to the poppy fields again, where his son was surely a man now and the woman who held his heart probably still awaited him.
Chapter Nine
Aveta focused on the shield, sending another jolt rumbling through the barrier in hopes of destroying it. Another pulse, the shield still standing as it had before, easily absorbing the power hurled at it. No changes, not even a crack.
She groaned and threw her hands down. Angry that her powers, however different they may be, couldn’t penetrate the shield, leaving her effectively imprisoned here. What could she do? Would she be stuck here forever? Even Eladril was no longer able to visit her. This angered her, for she was restless and fraught with loneliness. She felt like she was going mad. She would make her mother pay for this…for everything.
If she could only get out of this place. She would then have a fighting chance to challenge the Queen for position of power.
But was she ready to end her mother’s life? She sank down onto her bed, rocking herself back and forth as the minutes ticked on by. She loathed her mother, yes. But she didn’t want to see her dead. It was so final, so unforgiveable it made her blood run cold. It would be the end of innocence for her, the end of everything a young Aveta was made of.
It would mean the start of the new Aveta, hard and unforgiving. Unrelenting as a ruler of the Unseelie Kingdom should be. And what of love? What of Cranston? She’d spent her days daydreaming of seeing him, hearing his voice, touching his skin and holding his hands. How many hours had she laid there on this very bed and wondered how he was doing, what he thought might’ve happened to her. What if he’d felt betrayed because she had not visited in so long? What if he no longer cared for her? And what, Faerie forbid, what if he had moved on already?
She shook her head, shaking off the dread with one final swoop. She couldn’t let the darkness win. She had to keep the hope alive that he remembered her and knew she would eventually return. One day, she would see Cranston again.
With that she stood, walking to the barrier and taking a good hard look through the drying tears in her eyes. She pulled her dark inky black hair away from her pale face and tied it with a leather string. Cracking her knuckles she stood tall and closed her eyes, feeling with nothing more than her senses, the world outside the barrier.
“Withering Palace, hear my call and come to my aid. I know you hear me, my trusted companion. Please help me, for I am in need of your assistance. I am trapped, prisoner within your walls. I know you would not allow this if you could hear me. I know you would let me go for this is your domain and only your power supersedes the ruler of this realm. Please…help me right the powers of the Land of Faerie and grant me justice. Let me go.”
A pop distracted her and the walls began to shake. She stepped back and spun around to see that the room was morphing into something else. The wall against the fireplace crumbled, revealing a door behind where the fireplace had been. Her mouth hung open for she’d never known the door existed behind there. How could she not have known? The Withering Palace had never mentioned it to her either. It was unsettling to know the palace held more secrets than she
could ever have in a lifetime.
Working past the shock, she stepped forward, reached for the door and turned the ancient knob. It creaked opened and rained down a shower of dust and cobwebs onto the princess. She coughed and swiped at the muck as fast as she could. She wasn’t a fan of spiders, but they were tolerable. Of that she was glad as she entered the darkness beyond. As she cleared the door, it slammed behind her in an ominous thud. She shook at the fear pulsating through her now but crept forward as ancient light torches flared to life before her, and she made her way further and further down the slope.
What would be at the end of this hall? She didn’t have long to wonder, though it descended deeper and deeper into the guts of the castle, she began to wonder if it was leading her to the very place she wanted to be—the poppy fields.
The hall began to straighten and then another door appeared, laden with cobwebs and unused for what looked like centuries. She smiled as she swiped them away and turned the knob, excited to get out of her room for the first time in three years.
The door revealed the cavern, the very one she had treaded through many times. As she stepped into it, the door behind creaked shut, but not loudly as the other had. She stared back at it and wondered if it would open for her again. It didn’t matter though. She would not go willingly to her prison again.
With that she turned into the cavern, stepping out of it for a moment to get her bearings. The long hall of cells greeted her as before, where prisoners of long term confinement laid and could barely lift their heads to acknowledge her. For some reason, the cells called to her. She stepped forward when one of the torches next to the cell on her right flared to life.
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