Destinies Unknown

Naia, strapped upon a cold stone slab, lifeless eyes staring into a vaulted ceiling.

My father, the Lord of Nevermore and known as the Lord-Baron, turning to me with an obsidian blade dripping with fresh blood in his hand.

"Bring her here." he ordered his men, before I felt armored hands wrap around my shoulders and drag me towards the slab. If I felt anything, it was the purest, most unadulterated form of terror that could grip a young woman's heart.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts as I stilled my breathing and pressed a trembling hand to my chest. My vision swam, not from the wound, but from the trauma of reliving that horrible experience. It felt so, so long ago, as each second that passed felt like an entire lifetime lived, yet it would have been no more than a handful of hours and each image as sharp and vivid as if I was reliving each moment repeatedly with no end.

I was alone, again, lost in a place I had no idea ever existed, the sound of my breathing a rapid counterpoint to the slow, steady rustling of tall grasses dancing against a chill night wind. It was a comforting place, this glade. If anywhere in the world seemed like a universe all of its own and built just for me then this glade would have been it, and that explained despite being out in the open, I felt perfectly at home bathing in the river as if I was in the privacy of my own chambers.

Crickets sounded so very far away, and the lonely cries of nocturnal cottonbunnies sounding in the dark as they called out to each other for companionship echoing through the cool breeze made for a melancholic song of the night. I was alone, and I caught myself looking down at my reflection on the water's surface.

The face that gazed back at me was unrecognizable. Dirt marred her smooth features and concealed pristine cheeks under a layer of dark filth. She had slightly pointed ears. Not quite elfin, not quite human, but somewhere in between. Violet eyes were red and puffy to the point of being almost closed shut, and her long, blonde hair was matted from a mixture of sweat and dried leaves. Pain dwelt in those eyes, eyes so similar to my father's, and the reminder caused me to snap from my fugue state with a startled cry.

On impulse, and out of desperation for something to occupy my mind, I grabbed my soiled clothes and dunked them into the lapping waters. I scrubbed my cloak first, even painfully squatting in imitation of what I had seen a number of the servants do when I had chanced upon them cleaning the linens in some washtubs in Nevermore. The water had turned cloudy with the amount of filth that had come loose from my scrubbing and I paused only when my wound had begun to bleed once more, a steady trickle of my lifeblood trailing warmth down my thighs.

I tore a corner from my tunic and pressed it against my wounds, instantly feeling faint once more as I became aware just how deep they were. It hurt, but I believed in myself and in my ability to overcome challenges. My father had made me so. The cloth felt warm and damp, but it subsided soon enough and I left it there, stuck, like some kind of bandage while I rinsed my face and hair, every now and then drinking deep of the cleanest, purest, most vital water I had ever tasted.

A moment of calm befell me, and I considered that a boon. I relaxed in the water, sitting, contemplating. My superior mind coming to the fore as I dissected all that had occurred, yet... I felt naked. I was naked. I looked up and stared at the twin moons that brought me to mind of staring eyes and I suddenly felt exposed and I quickly covered my breasts, 'You don't have to stare...' I muttered, saying those words to nobody in particular.

A stiff breeze brought about a shiver from my body. I knew I was alone, and yet... I felt I was not. Someone was watching over me, concerned only for my safety and well-being, curious eyes following my every move, but I felt no hostility or ill-intent there and that, at least, comforted me. Peace, wholly alien and foreign to my heart, allowed me to forget my worries and aches as I fell into the welcoming embrace of serenity.

***

The outpost was a lot more expansive than I had imagined, but it was mostly a hollowed out shell of its former glory. Its layout and design, and what little of the decorative style that was left on its mouldering bones pointed to a period that was difficult to pin down. Its archways suggested it came from a period hundreds of years ago, yet other elements in its design, like the rather archaic looking stairs were nowhere near being familiar to any form of which that I was aware. Bits of razortree wood still sat in the wall sconces, which was peculiar due to the fact that a structure that looked to be abandoned this long would have nothing left but stone and rusting iron as a testament to its existence.

That this monument of stone that looked to be built with elements of design from different eras of history still stood uncharted on any map so close to Nevermore was a further mystery that beckoned with its sheer peculiarity.

Regardless, those were concerns for another day. I had more pressing matters at hand. Finding a room had been easy, and the one I chose overlooked what remained of a small courtyard within which stood an old, crumbling well, and what I could only guess was the remains of a cart. I had found some hay and made myself a bed. The evening's events were no more than a handful of hours behind me but I felt fatigued and drained beyond what words could describe.

My legs ached from a long walk that was made worse by the heavy burden I felt choking my heart and smothering my will to live in a constant blanket of cold anguish. The hay was no more than a thin layer of straw over unyielding stone, yet it was more comfortable than any of the hundred or so beds I have had over the course of my short life in Nevermore.

As I laid down on my side, my right hand came to grasp the pendant that hung around my neck and pull it within view. I stared at it, lost in the mire of my thoughts and the yawning ache of my heart. It was then that the unabated crying started. Big, fat tears streamed down my cheeks, staining the dry hay on which I laid my head.

I could not let go of the pendant, no matter how painful the memories attached to it. I couldn't explain. I wanted to let go, yet... I did not want to let go. I looked at the fine engraving on the back that I knew was there and it spelt out words he used to tell me every night when I was younger.

'If kisses were stars, I'd give you the sky.'

I heard it in his voice even as I whispered the words, but all I saw were his eyes. It was that way the entire night, and rest eluded me. When I closed my eyes, his face was there, haunting me, judging me.

He said not a single word, yet all that could be said were spelled in his eyes. The obsidian blade was there, too. It dripped Naia's blood from its fine edge.

The scorn in his eyes stoked the flames of guilt. When I remembered that I was holding the pendant in my hand, I remembered the day...

...he gave it to me. He actually gave it to me! The pendant and the fine, white-gold chain to which it was attached was a prominent item in my father's display of curios in his grand chamber within Nevermore. He had carefully stacked and categorized objects from significant periods in his lifetime, starting from the very earliest period of his childhood, to his decades as a mighty champion that bested the greatest evil to have ever challenged the Five, to ultimately the years where I would be born and his reign as a lord-baron within the human kingdoms of Ylmandoras continued.

Swords, shields, fine daggers, suits of armor, all manner of weaponry, to scrolls with incredibly fine scripts, plaques, and awards. I even spotted what was an incredibly ancient, incredibly valuable piece of technology called a "pohlahroyd" that was easily worth a kingdom's riches. However, that was not something that interested me, then.

The pendant had been displayed at the very beginning of my father's collection and I remember from my very earliest years standing upon a stool, my face pressed against the glass case. It was a white- and rose-gold pendant, attached to a fine white-gold chain that looked to have been crafted with the utmost love and care by the finest jewelsmith to have ever lived. The links were absolutely minuscule. Even I struggled to differentiate one link from the next, but that was the beauty in its craftsmanship. The pendant itself was a type of flower with five petals surrounding a diamond encrusted pistil. It was a simple, elegant necklace, and I had received far more ostentatious jewelry from my father, enough to fill a dozen rooms, yet I craved this specific necklace with a passion.

I had thrown all manner of tantrums in my younger years, making a mess of the lord-baron's chambers and workrooms as I demanded that the pendant be given to me. Vials of exotic liquids had been thrown against the walls and shattered. Important parchments torn to shreds. Various objects in his spartan room I threw in disarray as my childish heart burned to possess the one thing that I so desperately desired with every fiber of my being, yet it was all for naught. He dealt with my tantrums in a cold and distant manner, as if none of my emotions mattered, that there was nothing I could do in the world that would ever make me feel I was important to him.

He even scoffed when I stood at the ledge of his window and threatened to jump. Of course I wouldn't have jumped owing to my fear of heights, but the effect of his callousness on my young mind was palpable.

Somewhere along the way, the cause of my tantrums had become less about the pendant and more about his uncaring manner when dealing with my volatile emotions. The fiercer my outbursts had become, the more cold and distant my father made himself. He never punished me, no. Never that. Yet, he could be very frightening in his manner and his words with each tiny mistake I made.

He was not always like this. I remember him being a kind, caring, sweet man when I was a young child. He had changed some time ago, and the resentment I felt towards this sudden change further fueled the raging emotions I felt in my volatile heart.

The day he gifted me the pendant was different, however, and is a memory I carry with me to this very day for a number of reasons. It had been a long, splendid day spent at the king's castle for the day's events that saw me triumph over all the other young ladies in pursuit of the crown prince in marriage. Most of the royal houses were there, represented by their foremost scions, the very best of the human kingdoms of Ylmandoras; du Tallisaude, Thules, Solun, Moriaer, Constance, and a number of others whose standings were too insignificant for me to recall.

I had just brought the king to tears with my singing voice after a particularly involved play that required overdramatic displays of distraught acting on my part. Mine was the final act, the end of all performances for that week, a position that was very much vaunted in that it meant the king had wanted to savor the best for last. I had come to gloat in front of my closest rival, Illienna du Tallisaude, coming to kiss cheeks with her and congratulate her on her own performance which had come before mine.

Illienna was a tall lady, imposing, slender with a narrow waist, and possessed of a beauty that was enough to unsettle me. Her sable colored locks reached halfway down her back, contrasting sharply against perfectly porcelain skin, and her cheeks and eyelids were possessed of an incredibly subtle pearlescent quality that was stunning in its visual effect. Her green eyes, so vivid in their intensity, spoke of an intelligence that rivaled my own, and coupled with a determination that unnerved me if I were to be honest, made for an incredibly difficult rival in this pageant.

When we'd kiss cheeks, I had to lean upwards for I had a more petite constitution that emphasized the thickness of my breasts and hips, and in that regard we were opposites.

All other houses - despite the best breeding and curating of centuries' worth of bloodlines - were as nothing to me. Do not mistake my dismissing them to say that the young ladies of the other houses were ugly, for each specimen was a very singular and talented beauty that far exceeded the norms of human standards in every way imaginable. Each was the pinnacle of selective breeding and raised with the most intensive schooling, yet I was leagues beyond any of them.

I could dissemble complex mathematical formulae with ease, recite from memory obscure texts of esoteric knowledge, and solve complex logic problems as if I were performing simple additions and subtractions. None were my equal, none even approached my intelligence, skills, and knowledge in all fields, save for one individual. That one individual was Illienna du Tallisaude. The thorn in my side and my most hated nemesis.

I despised her. Everything about her was so smug. Her false cheerfulness, the way she smiled, her absolutely fake oratory when she addressed the king and his court, I hated all of it. I despised how taken in they were by this mask she wore, and the thought that this pompous girl had always matched me in every way drove me to the very edges of my tempers even while performing for the king and the crown prince.

Illienna had no hesitation with having actual conversations with servants. The whore. I had witnessed it myself. She soiled her name by sharing laughter with even the lowest ranked of those filthy servants whose tasks most likely involved cleaning the chamber pots of other servants. That filthy whore. She would probably kiss one of them too if given the chance.

'When I am queen, Illienna, I will rip you from your du Tallisaude home and throw you into the deepest, darkest depths of the benighted wastes,' I whispered to myself, 'There, you will spend your days on your hands and knees covered in the filth you love so much, serving the lowest insect vermin with your body and living off only their semen and excrement. I will make sure you love it, and I will laugh.'

I would have such sweet, sweet vengeance on Illienna. I would absolutely destroy her name and erase from history any such claim to fame that wretch would have with such utter completeness that nobody would remember the du Tallisaude household one hundred years from now. This I swore.

I was about to make my way towards Illienna, who stood so smug amongst her court of hangers-on and royal retinue, when my father, the lord-baron, intercepted me with a firm grip on my upper arm. For a split second, I had deeply feared that I had done something wrong and that I was to be punished for an error in my performance. My heart began to race and I began to feel the first hateful tendrils of dread worming into my heart.

What was it? What could I have done? My mind raced a million times faster than my heart, going over each split second of my performance and poring over each minute movement of my body, or differences in tone when I sang or recited my lines.

No, no, no! My performance was perfect! I am perfect!

I looked up to his face, his eyes so inscrutable, always so distant yet always demanding the very best from me no matter the circumstances. I always gave it my very best. Always. Never once did I ever give any task less than the full amount of effort required. I always gave that and more. Even when I had no more to give, I forced yet more by scraping the wastes of my sanity because he demanded it be so.

His grip was like iron around my upper arm, and though my heart was already overflowing with cold dread, I was careful not to let any emotion spill into my visage. He so despised weakness.

He demanded I be strong.

So be it.

I buried it deep down, stamping over those miserable emotions and pushing them deep into the dark forgotten corners of my soul where the echoes of past injustices and regrets lingered like wandering phantoms seeking redemption in the light.

We walked for some minutes even as the evening's events were beginning to draw down and he stood me before him within an empty hallway lit only by flickering wall sconces. I had mentally reviewed my performance a hundred and one times by then and I was left dreading what was to come next because I had no answers to give for the humiliating questions that were sure to come.

I curtseyed despite feeling nauseous, my stomach twisting in knots, bowing low until he bade me to stand. His eyes were still inscrutable but that was expected of the lord-baron. Still, I could not help but note how lovely they were when they were not narrowed in irritation or fury. Sometimes I wondered if I adored his eyes simply because they were lovely, or that we shared similarly violet eyes. I had known this man my whole life, and looked up to him in every way, yet his emotions were a mystery to me, the tides of his moods as unpredictable as the comings and goings of the twin moons above.

He always demanded I be strong, so I swallowed my pride and my fear and stared him defiantly in the eyes, preparing myself for the merciless scolding I was sure to receive from some error in my performance. He was not always like this.

Yet it was not to be. He reached into his richly embroidered coat that was heavy with gold frogging and his shining symbols of office, and pulled from it a small box lined in black velvet.

'Go on, take it, my dear.' he said, gently, his face splitting into the rarest of smiles. Memories of how he used to be came flooding my mind, the flood of tears from such bittersweet reverie halted only by the need to mask such weakness and sentimentality.

I reached out, uncertain, my delicate hands trembling as I took the box from his and took note of its weight and any sound it may produce before I opened it. I did so love surprises, yet I found that I often spoiled surprises myself when I put my mind into predicting and dissembling what possible gifts were in store for me and coming out with the correct prediction. I was my own worst enemy in that regard.

Not this time, however. I had been so overcome by fear and dread that I had no time to ruminate over what manner of gift this was. Looking up to him again, my face probably so full of expectation and wonder. He nodded in return with those rarest of smiles that made my heart flutter, and I slowly opened the tiny box.

Nestled in a richly purple bed of what I recognized to be the finest, most expensive silks, was the one thing that I had craved for my entire life. The necklace! It took me a moment to realize what it was, so flabbergasted and so utterly caught with surprise, that I tried to utter a few words but only managed to garble out some incomprehensible noises before I slammed the case shut and jumped right into my father's arms to give him the biggest, most heartfelt embrace that I could muster.