Queens & Gods:

Chapter One Only the lake at the base of the gods’ mountain could sparkle like otherworldly sapphires as it did that dazzling fall dusk. Only in this most sacred place where the immortals bestowed their tokens of favor or inflicted their great displeasure could there be such beauty and such torment. I knew better than anyone that great pain and I still suffered from it, long after the memory of my crime had faded into the ages. My curse was that I could only watch, never interfere. It was a hard burden to bear on even the most beautiful of days, but it was nothing short of harrowing that evening. The gods may have known everything that transpired that day, but I alone knew the full consequences of their actions. What the costs would be and the sacrifices that would be demanded. Everything would have turned out so differently if I had acted but the Fates were beyond my control. They spun the strands of destiny when the mood to be wicked struck them, weaving tighter and tighter before cutting the strings of life. I only watched as the events unfolded that would doom so many in the years to come. I looked up at the gods’ unblemished mountain that stretched high into the sky, much farther than any other mountain in Midrios with a grey mist that constantly shrouded its peak from mortal eyes. The lake shimmered brightly with power, and I watched Spyridon standing on the rich green grass next to the water. This holy leader had maintained his vigil for hours, only peering into the horizon as he waited for the right moment to act. The sun had been dragged by Anatole’s golden chariot across the sky too slowly for his liking, but it now hung suspended right above the horizon, warning them not to proceed with its blood-red rays. Spyridon suddenly turned to face his group of followers. Some of them wore white robes with golden chords to signify they were holy people on the path of enlightenment. Others wore the trademark red cloak and golden shields that marked them as Leondrian warriors. Two of the holy people held twin infant girls in their arms, cradling them while the Leondrians stood protectively beside them. From the fierce expressions in the Leondrians’ eyes, they were ready to catch the girls if the two holy people carrying them dared to drop them or to spring into violence if an unwanted visitor showed up. They had all committed treason by taking the late King’s twin daughters without permission, but they had stolen them anyway with the full knowledge of what might happen to them all. Born three days ago, the twins only had their dead mother’s love and their departed father’s fracturing kingdom as their only significant inheritance. This was well-known by the present crowd, and they could not shake their apprehension. It was not their own deaths that scared them, but the fear of the future that made them willing to sacrifice their own souls. I turned my attention back to Spyridon as he assessed the lake, but he clearly cared not for the desperation of his followers that clouded the air like thunder clouds in a troubled sky. “It’s time.” Spyridon announced to the men and women’s great relief. For their plan to work, it must be timed perfectly and without interference. At the precise moment of dusk, between a day’s death and a night’s birth in the ashes. The moment that briefly acted as a gateway between worlds where mortals could try to meet with one of the gods at this sacred place. The twin children were gently put onto wooden infant-size boats and Spyridon pushed them forward, towards the entrance of the god-made tunnel at the base of the mountain where the lake ended. The water, which had been the picture of still serenity a second before, suddenly spurred to life. Unnatural currents churned beneath the twins that made the entire lake devolve into chaos. Both tiny boats rose and fell precariously through the waves, a mere hair’s breadth away from overturning and being lost forever. But so long as one of the children was chosen as the next Queen of Leondria, no one would weep too much over the other girl’s fate. Honor might demand retribution, but they justified their actions by telling themselves that such a death could only be the will of the gods. The waves whirled and whirled until, as if signaled by some unseen hand, dampened into a single current that ushered both children into that tiny entrance that would lead them to a council before the gods. To a meeting that no other mortal was privy to attend. Spyridon watched the boats disappear with an intensity that rivaled the Leondrians’ murderous expressions then his face smoothed over as if he had all the time in the world to wait. Even though he knew he was already being hunted for leading the others into committing this terrible crime. The girls’ own mother scarcely had the time to look into her children’s eyes and name them before her body succumbed to the toil of childbirth. Spyridon had then taken them when the rest of Leondria was too distracted to notice his treachery.