by C. A. Sabol
“No!” Kaena screamed as she pushed out one more time. She took a long breath, and then cried out, “Ammos!” and then slumped over, fainting, as at last the baby was completely free of the womb.
A tiny baby, seven pounds, four ounces, lay in the hands of the Queen’s doctor. “It is a girl!” the doctor smiled happily. She held onto the tiny newborn with cradled arms, and then said without looking away from the child, “Someone, go and tell His Majesty that he has a daughter.” At her command, a warden hurried off, running with joyous steps towards the Throne Room.
All the doctors and nurses came around to look at the newborn. She was beautiful. Already she had a curly bunch of dark hair on top of her head. She didn’t make a sound as she wriggled around in the doctor’s arms.
For a long moment, the alarm signaling the critical condition of the queen went unnoticed.
When the Doctor finally put the new baby down, she heard the beeping noise of the failing heart rate alarm and turned with shock towards the Queen. “No!” she yelled. “Crew! All hands available to secure the Queen!”
Everyone rushed around, someone hurrying to get a pair of electric shockers. The doctor quickly injected a syringe filled with rejuvenating nutrients into the Queen’s body, but it was too late. The heart rate plummeted. She had lost the desire to live.
The heart rate monitor flat lined. Queen Kaena died; she was gone, as though a thief in the shadows had taken her.
The doctor slumped down, pulling off her bloody gloves. The handmaidens started to slowly weep louder and louder. Enricée took hold of the queen’s hand once more, holding on as the warmth dispersed from the queen’s lifeless body. It was a long while before anyone noticed that the sun had returned to its normal gray illumination.
THE KING WAS IN THE throne room when the eclipse happened. He was calmly awaiting the arrival of his new born when he’d begun to notice the eclipse. Lukiahs felt his stomach turn, his eyes bulge, his throat constrict as he saw the sun disappear behind Sapphira’s moon. “No!” he cried. “No! No, this cannot be!”
He stormed to the royal bedroom, refusing to see his new daughter or attend his wife’s funeral. He did not come out of his room for days. Those days turned into weeks, and after that, only Jerommien and a few of his chamber men would be allowed into the King’s room, Jerommien to advise and the chamber men to clean up all the moonshine stains.
As for the baby girl, she was left to the queen’s handmaidens, and then just to a maid or two to be taken care of. No one had even given her a name yet. It had been decided that if the King did not name her, then it would be left up to Prince Dorian, her half-brother.
News of the death of the Queen reached the ears of the people first. The birth of a new baby seemed too happy for the people to celebrate just then, with the death of the baby’s mother happening just after. It also reached the news that the King was indisposed, and the councilors were beginning to plan Prince Dorian’s coronation ceremony. For the citizens of Sapphira, it seemed that dark times were upon them.
IT WAS A WEEK AFTER the Princess’ birth that Prince Dorian, now nine years old, walked into his half-sister’s room with silent footsteps. The nurse who had been placed in charge of her was fast asleep; all the while, the baby was wide awake in her little bed, no one even noticing.
Prince Dorian was tall for his age, just reaching four and three-quarters feet at age nine. His hair was black as night, and his eyes were a golden-speckled green. His face was still young, but his eyes showed an intelligence that was not to be taken lightly. He knew of many things, and thanks to his father he had seen the world for what it was; it was dark with pain, and full of corruption.
Dorian made his way towards the Princess without making a sound. His black hair curled gently over his brow as his gaze focused on the Princess’ crib. He peered over the side of the crib and looked for the first time at his new sibling. The tiny baby girl looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. Her skin was bright, even for a royal. She glowed with a shiny, almost diamond-like glimmer. Her hair, a little ruffle of dark blond hair, stayed flat on her head as he reached down and felt the softness of it. Her eyes were mystifyingly dark blue, with a touch of purple around the iris. She was really pretty, for a baby, Dorian thought.
“Hi ... ” he began softly. “You’re my new sister, you know. And I’m your big brother, little girl. Your mommy’s gone, just like mine is. I don’t know why Father won’t come to see you, but until then, I’m going to be the big brother and take charge of you.”
Careful as possible, he reached down and pulled her up out of the crib. He, as an afterthought, put his finger to his lips and shushed her, but she just laughed a little baby laugh, and then quieted down as though she had understood him, but still thought he was funny.
Dorian smiled at her. “Let’s go to my room,” he said, “And I’ll show you my soldiers and all my toys.”
After Dorian sneaked out of the room, he shut the door quietly and looked around. He didn’t want anyone to realize that he’d been the one to take his sister. “That’s going to make them shape up a bit,” he said. He smiled down at his sibling and said, “That’s the trick to these people. Get them to worry about themselves and their jobs, and they’ll shape up. I remember I used to ride big horses when ‘no one’ was looking, and that’s when they all rushed out and took care of me.”
The baby laughed again at his story, although Dorian was certain she didn’t understand. He started to walk down the hall to his room. “What about you? You’ve never worried these guys enough, and I hear you were born while the moon was blocking out the sunlight.” Dorian smiled again.
He reached his room and put her down on the floor in the middle of the room, laying her down and grabbing her one of his blankets from his bed. He sat down next to her and took her hands in his, playing with her tiny fingers and marveling that someone had told him that he’d been as small as she had been once. “You’re so tiny,” he said at last. “I guess the first order of business here is to introduce myself. I’m your big brother, Dorian.”
She sputtered and giggled, blowing a spit bubble and then smiling. Her eyes then found his, and he looked closer at him. Her eyes ... they reminded him of the moon on a starry night. “You know ... you’re going to need a name around here. And since Father’s not going to even see you, I guess it’s my job to name you, huh?”
She looked from side to side, her gaze taking in everything. The baby seemed not to notice Dorian’s words.
“I think your name should be something pretty and not too long, and not too short,” Dorian said. “Hmm ... ” he thought about it for a while, and then he made his decision. “What do you think of Selene?”
The Princess happily giggled and smiled, spitting out another bubble. Dorian decided to take this as a yes. “Good. Selene it is.”
KING LUKIAHS WAS MORE than old and sick by the time he agreed to come out of his room; he was deadly ill. Selene had just turned a month old. The Rebel forces from the Isles were once again destroying cities on the main Continent. What had made him come out of his room was the news from his only remaining General that the Islander forces were heading for Diamond City, and that those blasted rebels had managed to get within fifteen miles of the city. He had also heard that the Rebel leader, some dirty Islander named Ammos, was calling for the death of King Lukiahs.
“I can’t believe it’s been four weeks since the King went into his room,” a maid whispered as she passed Dorian’s room. “The poor children. They have no mother, and a mad father. How sad.”
“Yeah. Did you hear Ammos’ forces are gaining land against the King’s soldiers? The Royal soldiers are just giving up, surrendering. They’re sick of having a King who will not fight with them, or at least tell them how to fight.”
“What I don’t get is why the soldiers can’t see that he’s grieving for his wife?” the first maid responded.
“Are you kidding me? Everyone practically knows that King Lukiahs never loved his second wife. I feel
so bad for Queen Kaena. She was just a pawn in selfish gain to her family and the council. She knew that the King didn’t love her. Did you hear that all her family received a nice chunk of the royal treasury because she died?”
A third maid joined the conversation. “Yeah, really. How comforting can that be to her family? They never even really got to see her that much—what was it, once or twice since she’d come here?”
The first maid chimed in again. “She was always so depressing and quiet. She’d fallen in love with that Islander, you know. Ammos. He’s leading the troops now, calling for the death of the person that killed his love, you know, the King. Totally sweet, I think. Personally, though, he has a wife and kids now. I don’t think he should be doing this kind of thing.”
The second maid shook her head. “Uh huh, I know. How tragic for all of them.”
“I feel so bad for Dorian,” the first maid admitted. “He’s got to face this rebellion at such a young age, and with his sister to consider ... that poor boy. He’s never going to have a normal childhood. Such a shame, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I agree, uh huh, uh huh.”
“I see, yes.”
Dorian rolled over in his big bed and tried to block out the maids and their whispered words. He knew what he had to do. He did not need to hear the whispers of doubt to know his duty.
He crawled out of bed and got dressed in his finest clothes. He called for a maid, although not one of the chatty ones outside his door, to take Selene for a while.
Dorian sneaked away from his chamber men, and then headed towards the throne room, where his father was rumored to be at the moment.
Indeed, that’s where his half-drunk, half-awake father was.
“Father, I have come to talk with you,” Dorian said. “I wanted to speak to you.”
“Huh?” the old man was more inattentive than usual. “What? Who are you?”
Dorian flustered slightly, but squared his shoulders. “Father, I am your son, Prince Dorian. I want to talk to you about your daughter, Selene.”
“Selene?”
“Yes. I have named her Selene, the baby, the Princess ... Father, please!” Dorian cried out as his father grabbed a nearby decanter and drunk heavily from it. “There are people coming here, wanting to kill you!” He started to cry, something that he rarely did. “Don’t you care at all?”
“Why should I care about this life?” his father asked. “My light, it’s going! I have smothered it. I’m going to die soon anyway. Might as well be at the hands of my enemies, you know? Less painful, I think.”
Dorian turned from his father. “How could you say a thing like that? I will not stand by here and watch you throw away your kingdom—our kingdom!”
In response, the King let out a large belch. “Okay,” he muttered, and then falling asleep, began to breath loudly and slowly in a heavy, drunken stupor.
Dorian raced out of the room, and called for the high priest to attend to his father as he scheduled a meeting with the King’s councilors. Dorian knew that it was his duty as the king’s son to take control around here. His father was indeed mad.
A FEW DAYS LATER, DORIAN sat on his throne, shocked to the core at the letter he had just received. The last few days had been a silent blur to him. He had run from here to there, and had talked with this person and that person, but it was over now. The rebellion had ended. Thousands of soldiers and fighters had died, as well as two very significant catalysts in the whole war. His hands were having a hard time holding still as he read the letter he held.
To His High Royal Majesty,
King Dorian,
I write to you news of grave importance. Your father has passed on, as of the early morning light. He had suffered so much in these past weeks that he had become emotionally as well as bodily ill. He had taken an astonishing amount of Moonshine of late, and had killed his heart with it. The last words he said were, “I cannot see the light!” before his heart gave out and he dropped wordlessly into his bed. I send my deepest regrets for your loss, Your Highness. I have attended the late King for years, and I have never seen him in such a way. He is at peace now.
Word has traveled throughout the country of the King’s death, apparently satisfying the Islander Rebels. They have agreed to cooperate, as long as there are some changes in the law regarding them. They are willing to send advisors and are deciding at this very moment just who those advisors will be. We shall be able to deal with them quite easily, Sire, and I know it will not be too much of an inconvenience on your behalf. They have also readily agreed to this, I am sorry to say, because of the death of their leader, Ammos. He has passed on himself, though by his own hand, leaving only a note in farewell. According to the letter, it seemed, life, without his love Kaena, as he so called her, had driven him to madness, just like the King your father. As a peculiar coincidence, the last words he said were also, “I cannot see the light!” Strange.
I shall return from my tour of the Islands with my reports in less than two weeks, just in time for your coronation ceremony.
Yours truly,
Your Humble Servant,
The High Priest of the Order of
The Guardian of Dreams in Crystallon,
Jerommien
Dorian put the letter aside and thought no more of his father. He had work to do.
A FEW DAYS LATER, THE new King looked down at his baby sister as she slept soundly in her crib. She was almost five weeks old to the day. Dorian smiled down at her, and felt relieved to know that this little girl was going to be his only family for a long time. He had felt that his father had appreciated neither him nor her enough. She was, after all, an innocent little baby in the midst of all this turmoil.
“So, Your Majesty, you are relieved that this war is over?”
Dorian turned to his newest advisor. Jerommien had been dismissed shortly after the official coronation ceremony, discharged of his duty because he had been labeled incapable and ineffective. Dorian had been tempted to add ‘unnecessary’ but he had restrained his unkind conduct. He was a king now, and he had to act like one if the council was going to let him keep the title. “Yes, I am, Haiasi. Blood is too much of an ugly thing to be around someone as young as I am. I’m concerned now with peace. What do you think about that?”
The old prophet looked at the child with twinkling eyes. “As far as peace goes, I have no doubt that you will be able to maintain it for a long time. After all, this planet is full of people who are more suited to peace than war. But I am afraid that there will be a time, Young Leader, when it will come about that you may have to fight. The day I first came here, a prophecy was made. It will be kept, according to the Guardian’s plan.”
“Tell me more about this prophecy,” Dorian commanded, as he turned away from his sister’s crib and headed out the door with his newest advisor.
Haiasi smiled. “I have to say, first, Your Majesty, that I am impressed by your devotion to your sister. Her Highness is most fortunate to have a brother like you.”
“Thanks.”
“Like all siblings, there will come a day when you have to let your protectiveness pass on to someone else, I must warn you.”
“Selene has no one but me,” the King said. “I doubt it.”
Haiasi smiled ruefully. “There is a Guardian of Dreams, you know. He has made this world; this world is his dream. You would not let such a wonderful dream turn into a nightmare, would you, young King?”
Dorian shook his head. “I like good dreams,” he said in a childish, misunderstood way. “I have such good dreams all the time.”
“That’s part a gift for those of us who are blessed,” Haiasi agreed. “We must remember not to corrupt them. And for those of us who have been corrupted, we must repent or die in Obsidian’s darkness.”
DORIAN CONTINUED TO be King. His accession to the throne was not questioned, and the rebel activity, little that was left, was quieted down. The Princess Selene grew more and more each day, be
coming a happy child who bounced around the palace with joyful steps. Haiasi continued to be the King’s most trusted advisor and counselor, until his death seven years later.
Haiasi died when the princess was seven. His death had caused much pain to Dorian, who had come to love the old prophet like a father. King Dorian, barely a teenager at that time, would remember forever the day he had to say good-bye to his most faithful advisor.
HAIASI HAD BEEN LYING on his bed, with King Dorian standing nearby. The old prophet had smiled as the King had made his way closer to the side of the bed.
“Ah, young Majesty. I see you have come to see me off, then. Such a sad sight for one as young as you.”
Dorian had grinned. “I left Selene outside.”
“Your sister means so much to you, and it is obvious that you are not the only one that loves her so. She is special. When she was born, you remember, she was born under night’s shadow ... and for that I’m sorry.”
“Why? What have you to be sorry for, Haiasi? You have been a wonderful advisor to me these past years.”
“I’m sorry, because I was part of the reason your father hated Selene. I told him that one of his offspring was to be born ‘under night’s shadow’. He hated her because he hated me, and he hated the truth.” Haiasi’s voice grew soft. “Please, King Dorian, don’t hate the truth. It is light, you know. It can shine, the smallest spark illuminating the biggest darkness.”
Dorian could feel the tightening of his throat as he tried to speak. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “I have learned many things from you, Haiasi, and I will try to live up to your hopes.”
“Watch over Selene. She’s unique. There are tough times ahead, Dorian. I have seen them. She is the one who will help bring peace to the world. But she has a great burden. Her heart shall be a field of blood.”
“She won’t die, will she?” Dorian asked, alarmed.