by Flavia Bujor
Still fighting courageously, the Chosen One was weakening and knew that he could not hold out much longer. Then he found himself surrounded by several soldiers of Darkness, and summoning his last reserves of strength, he prepared to defend himself.
“So, you’re the Chosen One?” snarled one of the shadowy creatures. “Seems that before, you used to be one of ours.”
“Before he deserted,” cackled another soldier of Darkness. “The Army of Light — do they take our cowards to make kings of ‘em, or what?”
“A king — that?” The speaker laughed contemptuously. “Bah! Let’s kill him, that way at least we can say we shed a king’s blood. I bet it’s no different from ours. King or Chosen One — that won’t keep him from dying!”
Seeing Elyador in danger, the Ghibduls quickly gathered together, flew to his rescue, and sliced his attackers to ribbons without mercy. Then one by one, they landed on the battlefield. They had decided to fight in hand-to-hand combat so that they could do more damage to the forces of Darkness — even though they knew this would surely cost them their lives.
“Now, what will I do with you?” wondered the Thirteenth Councillor. “Kill you?” He pretended to ponder the question. “No — I have a better idea. Go.”
The girls started suddenly, then looked at one another, aghast.
“Yes,” crowed the Thirteenth Councillor. “Go! What could be worse than the disappointment of hope deceived? You did not understand at all, you kept your Gift for yourselves. And when evil has triumphed, when you sink into bitterness, your Gift will sink with you. Hope will become hopelessness. The sight of you will inspire discouragement. Everyone will hate you because you failed. Wherever you go, despair will follow you — until Death releases you at last.”
Amber felt tears sting her eyes. But Jade cried out:
“You said we didn’t understand, that we kept our Gift for ourselves. So, all we have to do is offer it to others in order to win the battle? To give them the Hope that’s inside us?”
The Thirteenth Councillor concealed his irritation. In his excitement, he had said too much. But in any case, it didn’t change a thing.
“You figured that out a little too late,” he told Jade pointedly.
“Maybe not,” Opal shot back.
Like Jade and Amber, she was still holding tight to her Stone. The Thirteenth Councillor made no move to stop the three girls when they went over to an open window, but as they drew back their arms to hurl the Stones towards the battlefield, the Stones themselves became burning hot. The girls tried to ignore the pain, only to realise that something was preventing them from letting go: they felt a kind of invisible bond between themselves and their Stones, a bond that could not be broken.
The Thirteenth Councillor laughed lugubriously.
“You still haven’t realised yet? Your Stones are a part of you. They represent your Gift. You can never be separated from them. You are tied to them just as you are tied to one another. If one of you were to die, Hope would die with her. Do you know how it came to you? Ever since time began, someone has held your power, which was fragile at first, but it has grown with each passing generation.”
“The faces, the faces in the Lake of the Past,” thought Jade. “They were all the people who transmitted our power to us!”
“In each generation a single person has held the Gift,” continued the Thirteenth Councillor. “This person was said to have a kind of small scar shaped like a sun in the palm of their hand. When you were born, the power had reached its full potential and divided into three, and so the scars became Stones. A long time ago, Hope chose the one who would bear this Gift and carry out the lifelong mission of giving it to others. If all those people had failed, if they had kept Hope locked inside themselves, it would have flickered out. But the Gift was passed on, through great endeavour, until it reached you. And obviously it was all for nothing, since you have failed! Your Gift will leave you only with your death, and who knows what will become of it then? It will certainly be extinguished. Or, transformed into hopelessness, it will spread throughout the world. In that case you will have served at least two purposes: gathering all my enemies together so that I may crush them, and assuring the reign of evil for all eternity.” The Thirteenth Councillor smiled nastily. “Now, get out.”
The girls did not move. Even knowing that all was lost, they still could not bring themselves to admit defeat.
They held on to their Stones with all their strength. Amber thought of Elyador with every fibre of her being, because only his image could still help her. Opal saw Ad ien’s face in her mind’s eye.
As for Jade, she was concentrating on Oonagh’s voice, ringing ever louder and clearer in her ears: One will convince the two others to die. And she slowly understood that she had no choice. If she obeyed the Thirteenth Councillor and left, evil would win. If her Gift became despair, and were to invade the world after she died … Well, then, she had to give Hope to the Army of Light — and give it to them now. But how could she, since she could not be separated from her Stone? Except through death.
Jade tried to repress the truth that was dawning on her, but she couldn’t. With a deep breath she admitted to herself that if she were to die now, sacrificing herself voluntarily, then maybe her Gift would reach the Army of Light and evil would be defeated. But Hope might also simply die with her… How could she be sure what would happen? And how could she accept death?
She simply could not leave without doing something. What would her life be like if she did? Evil would be everywhere. The few survivors of the Light would hate her and they would be too discouraged to plan any future rebellions. All her life she would carry the burden of her failure and be sorry that she hadn’t acted when there was still time. She just could not walk away like a coward. And yet, wouldn’t that be the simplest thing to do? But just the thought gave her sickening feelings of remorse.
She looked at Opal and Amber. She knew that alone, she was nothing. Her death would be of little use. If the three girls wanted to transmit their Gift they would have to do it together, but Jade could not accept that. She would never ask Opal and Amber to sacrifice their lives, even if she were ready to sacrifice her own.
Resigned and resolute, she stepped up to the open window, holding her Stone. There was a strange light in her green eyes; she seemed like a soldier about to wage the last battle, or rather, like a sorcerer of Light facing her worst enemy: fear. She was so afraid of jumping, of seeing Death again, and of leaving life behind for good this time…
Without guessing her intentions, Opal and Amber followed her, anxious to remain together.
The Thirteenth Councillor did not intervene, for he was certain that these three fourteen-year-old girls would never have the courage to sacrifice themselves. And besides, surely even that wouldn’t change anything: he was sure he had won the battle.
“But he hasn’t won the war,” murmured Jade to her companions, a fierce, entranced look on her face.
“Only last night you were telling me that I wasn’t behaving normally,” said Opal, “but now you — you are acting really weird!”
“For hundreds of people, the sole aim of their life was to pass the Gift on to us,” explained Jade. “Thousands more have waited in the hope that we can conquer evil. Our parents were killed. The Army of Light is being cut to pieces before our eyes. Freedom and happiness will disappear. Until now, even on the Outside, there was a chance to change everything. Tomorrow that chance will be gone for ever. And you think we should just stand by and let all that happen?”
“Don’t be so fatalistic,” pleaded Amber. “It may not be as bad as all that!”
“Yes it is,” whispered Jade. “You don’t understand — the war isn’t over, not yet. We are here, the three of us, and everything depends on us. Either we listen to this monster and accept defeat, or we offer our Gift to the others, to the Light. And then, without any doubt, victory will be ours.”
“That’s all very well,” countered Opal, “but
we can’t separate ourselves from our Stones!”
Jade looked out the window.
“Yes, we can,” she said quietly.
Opal and Amber realised where she was looking and what she intended them to do.
“You don’t really mean–” gasped Amber in horror.
“Dying is the only way to let go of our Stones,” insisted Jade. “Then our Gift will be scattered over the battle.” With a rueful smile, she added, “Which goes to show that the Prophecy will turn out to be…”
“Well,” joked Opal, “at least Death will be glad to see us again.”
But they weren’t quite ready to die just yet.
Although Elyador was on the verge of collapse, he could not bear to lay down his weapon. His parents had loved him, and loved him still; Amber loved him, he loved her, and Love sustained him, drove him to fight on.
Suddenly the sky grew dark. Everyone looked up to see huge grey forms soaring over the battlefield: the raptors. Sensing the dense waves of fear emanating from the combat, they had rushed there to feed on it ravenously and finish off the last survivors.
Amber and Opal shrieked at the sight of the birds of prey, for they knew that even if Elyador and Adrien were still alive, they would certainly succumb to those monsters.
They looked at Jade. All three girls held tight to their Stones. They had never felt so frightened. They had never been so determined. They smiled faintly at one another. Then, before the incredulous eyes of the Thirteenth Councillor, they leapt into the void.
As their Stones vanished from their hands, their Gift left them. Blinded by a dazzling light, they felt themselves falling, falling…
The Hope they had finally given to others became a rain of shining gold that touched everyone’s hearts. The soldiers of Light and of Darkness all ceased fighting and lifted their eyes to the sky, their faces bathed in a shower of gold and happiness.
The three girls falling to earth had sacrificed themselves, had lost their Gift, and yet more than ever they were filled with Hope.
A few yards from the ground and certain death, Jade, Opal and Amber felt the sudden grip of claws digging into their flesh: the raptors had seized them. The girls were not afraid, though — on the contrary, they felt no more panic, only the relief of knowing that they were very much alive. The rain of Hope had transformed the birds, giving their plumage a golden glow, and the girls sensed that the predators meant them no harm. They had saved the girls’ lives.
The birds headed straight for the battlefield, where they gently placed their burdens before wheeling back into the sky.
Still stunned by what had happened to them, the three girls saw Elyador, Adrien and Oonagh coming towards them. On every side, all the adversaries had stopped fighting and seemed lost in a blissful daze.
Opal and Amber ran to the two young men, overwhelmed with joy. Jade went to meet Oonagh.
“Did we succeed?” she demanded breathlessly. “Did we conquer evil?”
“Yes,” smiled the magic creature. “You have beaten back evil. One day, however,” Oonagh warned solemnly, “it will return. It can never be completely defeated.”
“But then,” stammered Jade, “everything we did — it was for nothing!”
“Thanks to you, evil has been driven away. Now peace will reign for a few centuries. And if we continue to struggle, at every moment, against the anger, the fear, the intolerance in our own hearts, perhaps evil will never return.”
Jade could have just wept. And here she’d thought she had conquered the Darkness for ever!
“Now what will happen?” she asked.
“Outside and Fairytale will be reunited into a single land, the Realm.”
“And the Chosen One will be our King?”
Hearing his name, Elyador came over, with Amber at his side.
“No,” he said softly. “I will not be King. I don’t want to rule.”
“In the beginning,” explained Jade, “according to the Thirteenth Councillor, the Council of Twelve wanted to ensure peace. Corrupted by power, they gradually deprived the people of their freedom. I don’t know if that’s true, but—”
“It is,” said Oonagh firmly. “And that’s precisely why Elyador is right. He was King while the battle raged and will remain so until the Realm has been united. Then, to all those people who have never known freedom he will give liberty. We must not repeat the Council of Twelve’s mistake. Power changes men. Elyador must cease to be the King.”
“And me?” asked Jade. “And Amber, and Opal? What will happen to us?”
“That’s up to you,” declared Oonagh. “You are now free to decide your own destiny.”
Jade thought of her father, the Duke of Divulyon, whom she would soon see again.
Out of the blue, a nugget of gold fell at Elyador’s feet. Picking it up, he saw that it was shaped like a seed.
“Is this yours?” he asked, showing it to Amber.
“No,” replied the young girl, laughing. “Our Stones don’t exist any more. They changed into the golden rain.”
Opal and Adrien came over.
“What’s going on?” asked Opal.
“We found this,” replied the Chosen One, showing her the golden seed.
Oonagh looked at it thoughtfully.
“Put it in your casket, Elyador,” she told him.
“What is it?”
“A seed of Hope,” murmured Oonagh.
Elyador did as the magic creature told him.
“Now, bury the casket.”
Intrigued, Elyador followed Oonagh’s instructions. A tree sprang up immediately, with a trunk the colour of pure silver, and within a few moments it had grown long branches bearing sparkling golden leaves.
“Thanks to this tree,” explained Oonagh, “the memory of today’s battle will live for centuries. As long as the tree remains bright, it will mean that the country is at peace. When its trunk blackens and its leaves fall, Darkness will again be at hand. Today, good has triumphed. So let’s rejoice!”
Jade, Opal and Amber gazed at the tree of Hope, shining in a halo of glittering gold.
PARIS, PRESENT DAY
THOUSANDS OF YEARS BEFORE JADE, OPAL AND AMBER WERE BORN…
I woke up. This time, it’s over. Death is coming for me. But … I have to live, so that my vision becomes reality.
I look at my right hand one last time. In the hollow of my palm, majestic rays of light shine from a sun. Hope… I kept it for myself, I let my illness defeat me. I’m going to die, and Hope will die with me. I close my eyes. It’s much too hard to leave.
That’s it. I hear Death’s footsteps, her cold breath drifts past my cheek. I feel like crying. The tears don’t come. I feel like screaming, but I no longer have the strength.
I would have liked to leave without fear. Without regrets, but it’s impossible.
I’m suffocating. Everything around me is fading away. Only Death and I are left. She holds out her hand to me. It hurts so much…
The nurses are bustling around in the room. The door opens. Dr Arnon comes in, impassive.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“It’s the girl, the one who lost her parents,” replies a nurse. “She’s in trouble.”
Dr Arnon comes over to the bed. The sick child’s wasted body is shaking spasmodically; her lips are dry, and she’s moaning.
“It’s the end,” he observes quietly.
A sudden flash of lucidity seems to rally the dying girl.
“The telephone!” she wails. Then, in a tremulous voice, she whispers, “I have to — I have to… call… someone.”
Dr Arnon nods to one of the nurses.
“It’s her last wish,” he sighs. “We can’t refuse her that.”
I mustn’t die! I must pass on the gift of Hope. And what if it isn’t too late? Death is here — and yet, I still believe in my vision, in the impossible. That’s all I have left, Hope. I should have given it to others. But I didn’t. Why shouldn’t I still believe in it? As long
as I still have Hope inside me, can Death really take me away?
The doctor and the nurses leave the room. The patient feverishly picks up the receiver, dials a number. She still knows it by heart. The voice that has haunted both her dreams and her nightmares now answers.
“I’m going to die,” the girl says weakly. “I forgive you. But now, the choice is yours. Either you forget me, or… You know what you have to do.”
“Joa? Is that you, Joa?”
But the patient has already hung up.
There, it’s done. I called him. Eli Ador, the one I loved, the one who abandoned me. Why did he run away, the first and last time he came to see me? It made me think I didn’t matter to him. But perhaps he was scared. Of the hospital, of Death prowling the halls. Of what I had become.
Now it’s not important any more.
In the end, the Nameless One emerged from the shadows. The blood on his hands did not prevent him from becoming the Chosen One. If the people of Fairytale were able to forgive him, even make him their King — why shouldn’t I forgive Eli?
My breathing is becoming more and more shallow. I can hardly hear my heartbeats any more. Death is waiting for me. Impatiently.
“Listen to me, she’s very weak,” the nurse is saying. “She hasn’t got long now.”
“You can’t keep me from seeing her!” the young man protests anxiously. “I have to be with her. She has to live!” There was a burning determination in his eyes, perhaps even mixed with a faint flicker of hope.
“I’m afraid it might be too late,” explains the nurse.
She looks at the young man. He has tousled brown hair, desperate eyes.