* * *
That night a full Blood-Moon hung in the sky, illuminating the seashore in crimson light. All was silent: even the crickets were still.
Tyreneas could not sleep and walked outside to clear his mind in the fresh sea air. The silence sent chills through his bones, putting his senses on alert. Something was wrong, and he did not want to find out what nature seemed to be waiting for.
Suddenly, Arelia’s screams woke the rest of the men. Tyreneas sprinted into their bedroom to find a woman kneeling between Arelia’s legs.
“Get away from her, Anath!” Tyreneas yelled, recognizing his mother-in-law as he reached for his sword. He stopped at the sound of a baby crying. The woman turned to him, revealing his beautiful baby girl.
Anath wrapped the baby in a blue silk blanket and handed her to Arelia.
“Listen to me carefully. I will give you a moment with your child but then I must take her. She belongs to the gods now. She will play a great part in the history of your world, as the savior of humanity,” Anath told the new parents.
Tyreneas stood in front of his wife and child, pointing his sword at Anath. “Get out of our house. Who in Hades do you think you are, claiming our baby?”
A flash of red light lit up the room as Ares appeared in front of Anath.
“Put your sword away, Son,” Ares warned Tyreneas.
“You will not take my daughter, Ares,” Tyreneas said through gritted teeth, his knuckles white from the tight grip on his sword.
“You do not have a choice here. Our appearance this night is merely out of respect for the fact you are our children,” Ares casually replied.
Standing his ground between the two gods and his family, Tyreneas growled, “I said you will not be taking my daughter.”
Anath sighed. “Enough of this.”
Anath placed one hand on Ares’ bicep to allow her to pass. Appearing apologetic, she made a crisp snap of her fingers. From behind Tyreneas, Arelia wailed in anguish. Before he could face his crying wife, he saw the bundle of blue silk in Anath’s arms.
“Do not cry, Arelia. Your daughter is the last hope for us all,” Anath looked down at Arelia sympathetically. “I understand you had thought of naming her Photine. However, her destiny has changed in my arms. She will be named Elpis.”
Anath gave a sad smile to her daughter and held Elpis close her chest. She vanished from the room leaving Ares behind to deal with his son. Ares laughed at Tyreneas, whose rage exceeded its capacity for containment. He placed one finger in the middle of Tyreneas’ forehead and effortlessly pushed the 5’10” Greek warrior to the floor.
“I can feel your rage,” Ares chuckled. “It is good for the son of War to have such anger.”
“I will claim my daughter back,” warned Tyreneas.
“You will do no such thing. Every day she will grow a year older until the gods deem her beautiful and wise enough to cease her aging. By the time you meet her again, you will not recognize her as your own, but will bow down to her power.”
“We will always recognize our child,” cried Arelia.
“You two are so stubborn. I love it,” Ares looked down at the pair laughing.
Tyreneas lunged at Ares with a bloodcurdling war cry. He knocked the god to the ground and pushed his blade against the god’s throat.
“Bre! Breanna! Stop! It’s me,” Ares’ panicked voice pleaded, using a name Tyreneas did not recognize.
“I’ll kill you for taking my daughter!” Tyreneas vowed, his voice feminine as the words escaped his lips.
“It’s ok, Breanna you’re safe. Come back to me.” Ares placed his large warm hands on either side of Tyreneas’ face, gently stroking his cheekbone with his bone.
Tyreneas’ senses were overwhelmed by an abrupt change in scenery. The sweet smell of sea salt accompanied by the humid sea air vanished, changing to an earthy scent of rotting foliage and dirt. The bedroom lit with a red hue from the Blood-Moon changed into thick, damp woods with the hum of crickets and owls.
A group of Celtic warriors and a royal Etruscan convoy were standing around a young Etrusci girl on top of a Celtic boy, both thirteen years old. The Etrusci girl held a Celtic Long sword with a polished ivory bone at the hilt to the boy’s throat. The sharp blade nicked the side of his neck.
The boy gently pushed the girl’s brown hair out of her eyes. He spoke sweet and soft, almost a whisper, “It’s ok, Breanna. It’s me, Eoghan. Where are you? Come back to me, now.”
“I swear I will kill you, Ares,” Breanna spit at the boy.
“I’m not Ares, Breanna. Please come back to me,” Eoghan begged, his voice wavering in panic. The butterflies in his stomach zoomed sending a shiver through his body.
Bre gritted her teeth, pushing harder against the blade in response.
“Tell me your name,” Eoghan demanded, moving his hands to the blade to resist the attack.
“You know full well who I am!” Breanna yelled, her sweaty hands shaking against the ivory hilt.
“Tell me your name,” Eoghan repeated softly and drawn-out.
“Tyreneas!” Breanna screamed, pushing harder. Eoghan’s hands bled from gripping the sharp edge: the only grip preventing the sword from slicing through his throat.
A group of Etrusci soldiers moved to help Eoghan, but he ordered them to stop. “Don’t touch her!”
Eoghan’s protectiveness at his own peril sparked something familiar in Breanna’s chest. Her stomach sank as her mind cleared, as if from a fog, and she saw whom she was straddling.
“Eoghan?” Breanna blinked, clearing her vision to make sure what she was seeing was correct. Her voice was void of any malice.
Breanna sweat as every muscle throbbed in her body. Glancing around, she found her parents and a group of soldiers staring at her, afraid to move.
“It happened again, didn’t it?” Breanna asked Eoghan, ashamed. Tears filled her eyes.
“No, listen to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of here. It’s the Blood-Moon, not you,” Eoghan said and wiped away tears from her reddening eyes. Her painful embarrassment was like a sharp knife to his chest.
Breanna looked at the wounds on Eoghan’s palms and cried harder, her whole body shaking.
“Oh, Breanna, I’m alright. You didn't hurt me. I am safe.” Eoghan’s Gaelic accent relaxed Breanna and she fell into his body.
Eoghan loosened Bre’s grip on the sword and tossed it aside, wrapping his arms around the shaking girl.
“These Blood-Moon nightmares are getting worse, Brian,” one man in a general’s uniform and silver crown said to the Celtic warrior. “Nothing we try is working.”
“I fear the gods are at play with us, Remus,” Brian answered back, “and if that is true, this nightmare is only beginning.”
“What does she dream of?” King Remus asked Brian.
“If I am correct in the recognizing the names in her dreams, she is reliving the history of the goddess Elpis. Tyreneas was a Greek demigod, the son of Ares and the father of Elpis,” Brian replied, fear filling his blue eyes.
A tall woman with strawberry-blonde hair and a silver crown to match Remus’ stood next to him, wrapping her arm around his. Her body trembling, she said, “She is only a child, thirteen years of age; it is too soon.”
“She is no child, Queen Alina. She is an heiress in many ways. During these Blood-Moon terrors, Breanna is reenacting Elpis’ memories as well as those who played a part in her life. She is reliving the tale of her powers’ creation. That is the only explanation for Breanna to be possessed by Tyreneas’ spirit. I fear for the remaining characters,” Brian sighed heavily. “Her body is preparing itself. Breanna’s time as The Queen is near,” warned Brian.
Remus sighed and bit his lower lip. “Alina, take her to bed and see that she stays asleep.”
Alina, forgetting her queenly presence, rushed to Breanna. She pulled her off Eoghan, who was still tightly cradling her. Alina supported her daughter’s weight as she guided Bre into
the royal tent.
“Let’s all get back to sleep,” King Remus ordered the group.
Remus placed a hand on Brian’s arm before he could return to his tent. “I want to know what the gods have in store for my daughter.”
“Mars came to you the night she was born, you know what she is to become,” said Brian.
“That is not what I mean, Brian. You can see the…”
“I know what you mean, Remus,” Brian said, cutting off his friend. “You do not want to know her future. It is light and happy yet dark and tragic. It constantly changes.”
“Alina can’t sleep until she knows,” Remus said imploringly.
“Alina won’t sleep if she knows,” warned Brian. He abruptly ended the conversation by returning to his tent.
The Phoinix: Age of Demigods Page 6