by Lyra Shanti
Zin smiled to himself, grateful to be alone. He silently walked to the front door. Finally, it was his chance to escape, and he was going to take it.
--
Meddhi-Lan could feel many disturbing vibrations in the air. Most of all, he was intensely aware of Ayn’s nerves and could sense Ayn was not where he was supposed to be. As the hour grew closer, Meddhi-Lan feared Ayn might be late for his own coronation.
“Pei, I want you to find Ayn and bring him to The Holy Chamber.”
“Where is he?” Pei replied.
“He is probably in the gardens somewhere, though I’m not sure. Find him and meet me in the chamber in half an hour. I have to gather The Council and run through the details of the coronation ceremony.”
Pei nodded, then headed toward the gardens, though he was unsure where Ayn was hiding. It was always difficult for Pei to sense Ayn’s presence, especially as he got older. Ayn loved to play games, and he seemed to be getting better and better at them.
--
The library was bigger than Ayn had imagined. It was an immense room, seemingly endless in its winding glass stairs and plasma-powered escalators. Ayn had to rub his eyes when he saw the grand design on the wall. It was a vibrantly colorful painting depicting the birth of Adin as he emerged from The Un’s womb, reaching for the knowledge of the stars. Ayn felt like a trespasser. He wondered if he should go back to the dining room and wait for Pei.
“So…” he heard a voice say,” you must be the new Shiva?”
Ayn whirled around to see a young man standing in front of him. He was someone Ayn had never seen before – a young man near to his age, and yet, with his opaque skin and silver hair, he was very different in appearance.
“Who are you?” Ayn asked nervously.
“I am known as Zin Ra, and I am Ohr’s one and only Heir Apparent,” he replied in a sing-song, sarcastic tone, “but you can just call me Zin, if you’d like.”
Ayn had never seen anyone from Ohr and was slightly overwhelmed. He looked at Zin’s features: sparkling aqua-colored eyes and fine, shoulder length hair of pure silver. It was awe-striking. Yet, Ayn was still cautious. He didn’t know if Zin was there to hurt him or to be friendly. He wondered how Zin had even found the secret passageway!
“What are you doing here?” Ayn asked as he slowly backed away from the strange prince.
“I was curious,” said Zin, “and I wanted to meet you.” The prince then leaned on a desk, crossing his arms.
“What? Why?” Ayn replied, even more anxious.
“Because, supposedly, you are a God,” said Zin, smirking. “Are you not?
“Me?” Ayn replied, confused and not sure how to answer. “A God?”
“Well, not a God exactly,” Zin said as he picked up a book lying on the desk entitled The Past and Future of Deius, “but more of a so-called Messiah, the one who will lead Deius into purity... or some such nonsense.”
Ayn was in a shock. He did not know what to do and had no idea how the Ohrian prince found his way into Adin’s chambers. He was petrified of what Meddhi-Lan would say, and began thinking of ways to explain himself if his teacher found them out.
“I… don’t know what you mean,” said Ayn, pushing the words out of his mouth.
“Oh come on,” said the prince, coyly, “you are the one they say will rectify the so-called paradox of The Un, aren’t you?”
“I am… not...” muttered Ayn, barely able to think straight.
“You are not… what?” Zin teased with a smirk.
Ayn felt vulnerable, and in a split second, decided to call for his Lans within his mind. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
The prince could tell that Ayn went somewhere else in his thoughts. Zin smiled, then gracefully walked to Ayn and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you’re just a man… like the rest of them, no better and no worse.”
Ayn opened his eyes and saw Zin’s aqua eyes staring right through him. It penetrated Ayn’s soul, as if he had known this Ohrian prince before… in some other time and place. The familiarity was instant, yet it frightened Ayn, making him turn away.
“I am… not…” said Ayn, trying his best to speak.
“You are not what exactly?”
For the life of him, Ayn just couldn’t find the words.
Zin laughed under his breath and sat down in a chair. He opened a book and pretended to read the pages within.
Ayn took a breath and found himself studying the cocky Ohrian prince in front of him. Questions popped up in his mind. Is he my age? Why can he speak Uni so well? What does he want with me?
Zin looked up at Ayn and grinned at him. The two boys then looked at each other for a moment, curious and somewhat confused.
“So,” Zin said, breaking the awkward silence as he rose to his feet, “since I don’t want to call you Bodanya, should I call you Shiva? That isn’t your real name, is it?”
“No, my name is... Ayn.”
Zin smiled again and approached Ayn with such a closeness that their faces almost touched. Ayn nervously swallowed. He couldn't believe he had told a stranger his real name, and now the odd behaving Ohrian prince was invading his personal space! Ayn wanted to run away, but felt transfixed.
Zin stared at Ayn and attempted to reach into his mind. Much to Ayn’s surprise, the two of them became lost in another world, a child’s world of depth and imagination. They somehow understood each other’s souls in a way that most never do.
Ayn could sense the Ohrian prince’s urge for freedom, his romantic and poetic nature, his need to praise and adore fine works of art, and most of all, his deep love for music. In return, Zin felt the depth of Ayn’s pain, the longing for his mother, and the constant awareness of his great responsibility. The boys drew to each other unconsciously until their foreheads gently touched. Ayn felt scared of this intimacy, but could not stop his longing to be understood by another person of the same age.
Zin opened his eyes and looked at Ayn’s pale face. Tears began forming at the edges of their eyes. It was as if they had performed an old blood-bonding ritual, but in their minds alone. Their closeness was instant, and Zin lifted his hands to wipe the tears from Ayn’s cheeks. He softly brushed his fingers against his own cheek, mixing the tears together.
“See?” whispered Zin as he held up his fingers of tears, “I am you, and you are me.”
Ayn swallowed, overwhelmed by feeling too much.
Zin, however, was not afraid of his feelings. In fact, he was an anomaly of his people in that regard. He moved even closer to Ayn, wrapping his arms around him in a full embrace. He held him tightly, then kissed his cheek. Stunned, Ayn felt extremely uncomfortable. He’d never experienced such intimacy with anyone other than his Lans, and even then, it often felt as if they were breaking The Dei’s unspoken rules. Physical closeness, especially among males in the temple, was simply not done. Ayn’s thoughts raced as he struggled against his fears.
Why is he holding me like this? Ayn thought as he nervously smiled at Zin. Is he confused? Does he think I’m female or is this normal behavior for an Ohrian? Does he just want to be my friend? Can I trust him? I want to, but...
Pei suddenly flung the door open and looked at Ayn with a heavy brow. “Ayn? What are you doing here? Are you alright?”
The two young men immediately broke from each other’s arms and wiped their faces. Ayn was filled with embarrassment and confusion.
“Ayn?” asked Pei yet again. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Ayn snapped. “Where were you? I waited forever!” Folding his arms, he sat in a chair across from Zin and looked away.
“I had matters to attend. I’m sorry, Shiva Bodanya,” Pei said, taking a formal tongue as he carefully watched both Zin and Ayn, trying to understand the odd situation through their expressions and auras.
“Well, while you were busy with whatever it is you were doing,” said Ayn, defiant and defensive, “I got bored and decided to see what was, and still is, mine
.”
Zin let a smile escape from the corner of his mouth, then said, “I’m sorry if I should not be here, but I too became bored and wanted to see more of your great temple.”
Pei looked at the Ohrian prince, tilting his head to the side, trying his best to listen past the boy’s words and deeper into his heart.
“I am sorry, Your Highness,” said Pei with a half bow, “but no one is allowed inside the private chambers of The Great Adin, and I must ask you to leave.” Zin stood up and nodded. He looked at Ayn with a smile and then bowed to leave.
Ayn could not tell if he liked or disliked the intrusively arrogant Ohrian prince. Either way, he was glad Pei had come.
Once Zin exited the room, Pei closed the door and looked at Ayn with scolding eyes.
“Do you have any idea how much time you’ve wasted down here, Ayn?”
“I’m sorry, I just--”
“No, Ayn, you... we have to be in The Holy Chamber Room in merely ten minutes.”
“I’m sorry…”
“You cannot do this again, Ayn. Do you understand me?”
“YES!” shouted Ayn, stressed and scared.
Pei did not expect Ayn to raise his voice at him. Ayn had raised his voice before, here and there, but never quite as forcefully. For a moment, Pei was unable to respond. However, within a matter of seconds, Ayn’s face went from anger to utter turmoil. He then burst into tears, making Pei feel awful and cruel.
Realizing how insensitive he had been, Pei wished he had not put such pressure on him. “I’m sorry, Ayn,” he softly said, “I didn’t mean to be so harsh.” Pei tried to comfort Ayn with his arms, but his brother-in-soul recoiled from his touch.
“Where were you?” Ayn cried. Using his empathy, Pei felt the twisting in Ayn’s stomach. He wanted to tell Ayn that it would be alright, but he did not know if it would be a truthful thing to tell him.
“Ayn…” he gently said, “calm down and relax.”
“I can’t calm down! I don’t want this!”
“You don’t want what?”
“THIS!” shouted Ayn at the top of his lungs.
Pei was completely taken aback.
“Ayn…” said Meddhi-Lan as he swiftly entered the library, “Ayn, look at me.”
Ayn was breathing hard and feeling faint. He turned to see his elder Lan standing in front of him. “My Lan!” said Ayn as he ran to his beloved teacher, collapsing in Meddhi-Lan’s arms.
Meddhi-Lan picked up Ayn and cradled him. Hugging Ayn tightly, he felt a deep sense of guilt take hold over his heart, as if he was leading his child to a slaughter. He then sat Ayn down on a chair and said, “Just relax, my boy, everything will be alright.” He held Ayn’s hand and led him into a familiar chant, making Ayn practice his meditation.
Gods, please help us, the worried high priest asked in a silent prayer.
At the request of Meddhi-Lan, Pei went to gather the guests for the beginning of the ceremony. Pei was glad to carry out the task since he was unsure how to handle Ayn when he got that way. Only Meddhi-Lan seemed able to calm the boy, and that made Pei feel helplessly inept. Nonetheless, Pei forced himself to put aside his concern, telling himself that Meddhi-Lan would make everything alright in time for the coronation.
--
Zin had always been different. Since the time of early childhood, he did not think like an average Ohrian. He had a highly creative imagination, which caused him to be scolded often by his tutors and parents for excessive “day dreaming.” They believed it weakened his mind, at least his conscious mind, which Ohrians valued far more than the subconscious. Scientific fact was the way of their people, and science was what his father wished Zin to study, as he did and his father before him.
However, the prince had something his father did not understand or approve of: a great sense of instinct that sometimes bordered on the psychic, often unnerving Lod Enra, as well as the queen. At times, Zin could sense when and where people or things were simply because he felt them. Unfortunately, the ability to use the subconscious mind had been draining from the Ohrian people for many years, almost to the point of nonexistence. Therefore, Lod Enra did not approve of his son’s strange talent.
In fact, in effort to change his son, the king took away many of Zin’s favorite objects as a child: his “magic” plasma-wand, his giant stuffed Eeir fish, and most prized of all, his elenon. He had been given the beautifully hand crafted elenon by his music teacher, Varvin, when he was three years old. Zin’s natural talent on the eight stringed instrument had far surpassed many on Ohr, and it was something that made him truly happy. His father, however, eventually saw it as yet another distraction, blaming Zin’s music for his disinterest in logic and science. On Zin’s twelfth birthday, the elenon was taken away and was replaced with a very large telescope. Though he had loved looking at the stars, Zin loved music more, and he never forgave his parents from that day forward.
Through the years, Zin became wilder and more difficult to teach. When Zin turned fourteen, Lod Enra sent him away to a special school on the third moon of the planet. It was an isolated sort of school for “difficult children,” and to Zin, not at all a proper place for a prince. While in exile at school, Zin became even more rebellious, even pulling pranks, as well as talking back to his teachers.
Finally, at sixteen years of age, Zin was allowed to return to his father’s palace, though Lod Enra had nearly given up, usually ignoring his son’s presence altogether, which suited Zin more than being constantly scolded.
A year later, the king discovered that his own health was in jeopardy due to plasma poisoning; he was not able to breathe regularly and was easily winded. He could feel his kingdom slipping away, forcing him to train Zin as the next leader of Ohr. Because of this new burden, Zin understood how Ayn may have felt - like a caged animal in a zoo.
However, the prince was older than Ayn by roughly three years, and he had not been raised by loving priests, but by cold and scientific teachers. This factor had nearly turned Zin cold himself, though he swore he would never lose his heart, the way his father had. He vowed to be the absolute opposite, and so the cunning prince concocted a plan of escape while staying on Deius; it was only a matter of how.
Unbeknownst to Zin, Lod Enra had discovered his son’s absence and sent his guards to find his ever-disobedient heir. They found Zin walking carefree in the hallway, then seized him by the arms, leading him back to his father. Zin knew he would receive a swift beating from his father, but the thought only made him smile in twisted satisfaction. He knew he’d be leaving soon anyway; it was fate.
Chapter 8: The End of Their Days
In the Holy Chamber of Adin, the priests sat on their feet, meditating upon The Un. Pei briefly came into the room to inform Amun-Lan about Ayn’s emotional state. He then swiftly exited, informing the guests who were lined up at the door that the ceremony would be starting soon. Amun-Lan got up and began chanting. He lit the candles surrounding the statue of Adin and meditated on The Bodanya, praying for his inner strength.
As Ayn awakened from his own meditation, he heard the sound of Meddhi-Lan’s calming words: “You will be alright, my beloved boy. I will protect you.”
Ayn believed him. As he often did throughout his childhood, Ayn chose to believe the words of his beloved Lan, and he hung onto the idea that all would be fine. He then opened his eyes and saw Meddhi-Lan hovering over him like an angel from ancient scrolls. Ayn smiled at Meddhi-Lan and lovingly touched his face.
“I am your beloved boy, yes?” Ayn quietly asked.
“Yes,” said Meddhi-Lan with a gentle smile, holding back his tears.
Ayn looked around him and saw that they were in Meddhi-Lan’s room. He felt somewhat relieved, yet a bit ashamed for prolonging the ceremony.
“I am sorry,” he said as he rubbed his eyes. “I passed out, didn’t I? I do that too often when I go deep into meditation. I will learn to be better, my Lan, I promise.”
Meddhi-Lan hushed him and said, “Today is pos
sibly the biggest moment of your life, Ayn, and so it is understandable, but you must try to listen to the calmness of the ona flowers brushing against the wind. There, you will find peace… and answers.”
Ayn listened and held Meddhi-Lan’s hand for comfort.
“Will I be a good king?” asked Ayn.
“You will be the greatest leader our world has ever known,” replied his teacher without hesitation.
Ayn felt a great sense of honor come over him. He got up and looked in the mirror. “I am ready,” he said as he pulled his robe into place. Meddhi-Lan got up and nodded, beaming with pride for his beloved boy. He extended his arm to Ayn, and together, they slowly walked toward the Holy Chamber.
--
The priests heard the doors open and sighed in relief, knowing Meddhi-Lan had succeeded in reviving the spirit of their new Bodanya. Moments after, Ayn walked in with his head held high, tightly holding a holy object: the sacred symbol of three turning circles. It was a luminescent sphere, powered by plasma and rotating in place, as if by magic. Meddhi-Lan followed right behind Ayn while singing an old Dei holy song in his low, majestic voice. He sang the story of The Great Adin, about his death and rebirth, and the coming Age of Light. When they reached the altar, Meddhi-Lan bowed to Ayn, then bowed to the priests who did the same in return.
Ayn looked across the large, gold-adorned room and saw many faces. He saw Pei looking at him with pride, he saw Amun-Lan with his stern, yet wise face, and toward the back of the room, he saw Zin looking at him with a defeated, sad expression. He also saw a dozen or more people he did not know, many of whom were royals, sitting on the plush benches of the room with wonder and hope reflected in their eyes.
Meddhi-Lan crossed the room, and while singing, took the cup of holy oils from the altar. He dipped his forefinger into the cup and loudly proclaimed, “The anointing of the Adin.” He then bent down to Ayn’s bare feet and slowly poured the warm oil, making Ayn slightly squint in discomfort. The priests then sang in unison a song depicting how Adin survived the pain of the hanging tree. Pei stood up in the middle of the song and sang solo: