The Middle Realm

by Charmaine Theron

But before she could finish her sentence, her chest unexpectedly constricted, cutting off her breath. Raven opened her mouth, gasping for air. Her eyes rolled back and perspiration dappled her forehead. Seconds later she collapsed, hitting the floor with a thud. Drakon and Dione’s voices faded into the background. The skylight above her churned and a cold sweat broke out over her entire body.

  “It’s happening again…” Dione whispered. “Is it too late for her?”

  “I don’t know… I can’t tell until she’s regained consciousness.”

  “Aether is growing more powerful…”

  “The August Moon – we might be too late.” Drakon spoke right next to Raven’s ear. “She knew about the meditation…”

  “How?”

  Drakon must have thought that she was out cold, but she was semi-conscious. Raven could make out their conversation in bits and pieces.

  “Niko… he guessed parts of the truth. He thought the meditation was used by the Guardians to control the Seraphians.”

  “He wasn’t far off,” said Dione.

  “I was hoping that Raven could resist the control of the Sphere, like we did. But, it’s taken hold of her even though she doesn’t meditate. This proves that the Sphere here is evolving.”

  “It’s going to destroy all of us if we don’t stop it,” replied Dione.

  Drakon scooped up Raven and carried her out of the amphitheatre. Dione shadowed them as they hurried to Raven’s chambers. Once inside Drakon lay Raven on the bed and tucked the fur covers around her. Only her ashy, perspiring face peeped out.

  Touching her gently on the cheek, Drakon said, “She’s ice cold.”

  Dione hovered in the background. “I can try to reverse the hold over her, but I need the—”

  “The Amulet’s on her arm,” Drakon interjected, “but it didn’t protect her.”

  “No, not the Amulet.” Dione extended her hand. “The Onyx.”

  Drakon shook his head adamantly. “It won’t work. The only way is to open the Hecate.”

  Raven’s eyelids twitched involuntarily. But she couldn’t will herself awake and, as she wavered on the brink of unconsciousness, Drakon and Dione’s voices ebbed away. The darkness pulled her further in, until she reached a place where the singing of a sweet lullaby lulled her to sleep.

  Chapter 41

  The Sound of the Bells

  The pealing bells rang unceremoniously across the City. The Fallen escorted the four Guardians down the stairway heading to the Agora – their lanterns swung back and forth creating eerie, elongated shadows against the mountain wall. All around, orbs lit the darkened cavern with an iridescent light that resembled a thousand twinkling constellations. The shackled Guardians made Ash’s heart sink. He remembered the day when they had proudly announced that he was the Guardian of Aether. And now, he had failed them.

  Drakon strode out onto the ledge while six Dark Legion guards detained Ash. Drakon wasn’t taking any chances that Ash might escape and foil his plan. Behind him, his father, Hunter Stavros, struggled with a guard who tried to secure him to a bronze chair – strangely, it was the fifth chair. On either side of Hunter, Emma and Myra sat, already bound. Myra’s eyes were wide with fear and Emma stared despondently at the stone floor. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking the linen rag that gagged her mouth. A cold shiver raked Ash’s spine at the sight of his captive family.

  The bells stopped ringing and the sudden silence was deafening. Ash snapped out of his reverie and back to the nightmare unfolding in front of him. Even though night was upon them, it was difficult to tell as the black cloud shrouded the entire City, obliterating any natural light. A thought crossed Ash’s mind. How were they going to see the August Moon in this darkness?

  Drakon raised his arm, flicking his right hand skywards and the cloud above them rumbled.

  When the Fallen reached the Agora, they separated into four groups, each with a Guardian at the head. They trooped along the circular road, heading toward their relevant Regions, entering beneath the magnificent archways (only Gaia lacked one). Moments later, the four groups disappeared into the maze of narrow walkways that snaked between the stone houses.

  Once the Guardians were out of sight, Drakon swung around and faced Ash. “What a stupendous occasion, Ash. Are you looking forward to being a part of it?” A wry smile played at the corners of his narrow mouth.

  The guards hustled Ash inside. Hunter writhed in his seat, his face sweating from exertion. Even though a rag bound his mouth, blasphemous words aimed at Drakon were still distinguishable.

  As they approached the podium, Drakon wagged his finger at Hunter. “No need for that. You’re setting a bad example for your children.” He bobbed his head toward Myra.

  Hunter clenched his jaw and his face turned red with anger.

  Just then Dione appeared from the tunnels with Calypso perched on her shoulder. The sparkling emerald adorned her forehead and a magnificent gown of turquoise ruffles swished around her sandaled feet.

  Drakon’s gaze landed on Dione and he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. He summoned her over and she sashayed toward him.

  “You can’t do this to the Guardians.” Ash narrowed his eyes at Drakon.

  A stifled laugh caught in Drakon’s throat.

  “Oh yes he can,” remarked Dione.

  Ash glared at the witch disdainfully.

  Drakon spoke elatedly, “The August Moon is upon us and the sacred ritual is one event that shouldn’t be missed.”

  Ash glanced around, noticing that Raven wasn’t present. “Where’s she?” he asked.

  “Who?” Dione questioned.

  “Raven. If it’s so important why isn’t she here?”

  “She can’t join us,” Drakon replied tersely.

  Ash found this strange.

  Dione’s green eyes darkened at Raven’s name and she touched Drakon’s arm gently. “Don’t fret darling, I’m here… and I wouldn’t miss it for the stars.”

  Ash focused on Dione and he recalled her words, realising why she wore such an extravagant gown – ‘It’s also a time when our people can profess their love for each other during the moon’s phase.’ His hunch had been right; the crazy witch wanted to profess her love to Drakon at a time like this.

  Dione waved her staff in front of her and announced, “I was visiting the girl – the girl Elektra.” She tossed her head in the direction of the dungeons and the emerald glittered on her forehead.

  “Elektra?” Ash repeated her name in surprise.

  “Oh yes… and her horse isn’t much of a Pegasus anymore,” Dione added sarcastically.

  “What do you mean?” Ash asked, exhaling loudly with dread.

  “Since removing the Amulet from the girl, her Pegasus reverted to a plain, old Palomino mare within a few hours.”

  “And the girl,” said Drakon, “what became of her?”

  “She poses no threat anymore, darling.” Dione glided around Drakon, purposefully brushing his legs with the enormous flounces of her dress.

  “As long as she doesn’t get her hands on a bow and arrow,” Drakon chided, “she won’t be.”

  At Drakon’s mention of a weapon, Ash scanned the area for any object that he could use. His eyes came to rest on a familiar bronze hilt. Attached to Drakon’s hip and sheathed in its scabbard, was his Trinity sword. He had to get it somehow. Without his powers, his sword would be his last hope.

  Drakon strode over to Ash and untied his hands. He shoved him to the centre of the Unity symbol. All around the outer circle, a double row of guards hemmed him in. Ash bowed his head with his arms clasped behind his back.

  The City’s bells clanged loudly with one resounding ring. Ash’s head jerked up.

  Above the heads of the guards, the owl circled twice before soaring out of the skylight, her silver-flecked wings beating the air. Dione moved out onto the ledge, her back toward them. Seconds later, her body stiffened and her head tilted backward. Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders. Dione’s h
ead whipped from side to side and her arms flapped sporadically as she travelled with Calypso into the night.

  The bells sounded a second time and Ash jumped.

  “I’ve been waiting for this moment…” Drakon said, “…for over two centuries.”

  Ash’s feet tingled and a weird sensation crept up his legs. Glancing down, he was thunderstruck to see a spider-web of threads growing out of the stone floor, weaving their way around his feet. The threads pinned his legs firmly to the ground like a tree planting its roots deep into the earth.

  The third gong would have sent Ash shooting up straight through the skylight if it weren’t for his secured feet. But instead, he remained rooted to the symbol.

  Dione dropped her arms and turned in slow motion, sashaying toward the podium. “Elethea did well considering she’s only been a Guardian for a few hours.”

  Drakon smiled broadly at her.

  “Calypso’s nearing Pyr Region.”

  “Let’s hope Kyros obeys – he’s the difficult one.”

  “He will.” Dione’s eyelids fluttered closed. She threw her arms out again, raising her chin skyward.

  “Move back,” Drakon commanded and the circle of guards fell away from around Ash.

  Ash was centre-stage. He splayed his arms out to his sides, keeping his balance. He tried tugging his legs free but the strong threads held him fast. Terror struck him; he’d never been in a situation like this before. Trapped and helpless he twisted frantically from side to side looking for a way to escape. Only when his gaze fell on his distraught family, did his memory trigger the idea that he’d had.

  “Kyros never taught me.”

  “Taught you?” Drakon inclined his head.

  “The ritual.” Ash shrugged nonchalantly. He truly didn’t know how to perform the ritual. Kyros had never explained it to him and now he was using this as a ploy. He hoped it would work.

  Drakon’s eyes widened at the realisation.

  “You’ll have to show me,” Ash proposed.

  “I-I can’t… I’d have to stand on the symbol with you and I-I can’t,” Drakon stammered, unsure what to do.

  “Maksimos,” Ash said confidently. “Maksimos knows the ritual. He’s the only Guardian here.”

  “You’d better be telling me the truth, boy.”

  “Kyros only told me about the prophecies… he talked about the ritual, but he was reluctant to teach me.”

  “And all this time you kept your big mouth shut? Why didn’t you speak up?”

  “Maksimos… he’s your only answer,” Ash reiterated the solution.

  Glancing at Dione out of the corner of his eye, Ash was relieved to see that she was still in a trance.

  The fourth ring reverberated and Drakon’s shoulders juddered.

  Dione’s eyes sprang open and she stared fixedly at Ash. “You’re up next.”

  “Get Maksimos… now!” Drakon bellowed to the guards.

  Confusion clouded Dione’s face and her green eyes darted to the guards who scurried in all directions before racing out of the amphitheatre.

  Tension hung in the air. Drakon’s hands trembled. Luckily for Ash, Drakon had overlooked a small aspect of his plan which could jeopardise the entire sacred ritual. Ash hid his smile. He had bought himself some extra time.

  Chapter 42

  The Revolt

  Since the black mist had cloaked the City, Rachel had heard endless whisperings about the prophecies. With the turn of the millennium almost upon them, she was aware that one of these prophecies would come true, but she was uncertain which one. Hektor had informed them that Drakon had opened the portals – he’d been near the temple at the time and had witnessed it. So far, the steps for opening the Hecate had fallen into place. Drakon had also lifted the curfew for the night as he wanted the city dwellers to witness the ritual – his need for power had intensified. Hektor had resumed his role as commander, but on a smaller scale, while in the interim, Rachel had gladly handed over part of her responsibilities. Even though Hektor only had a small band of rebels compared to the four thousand strong Arete Army he had commanded in the past, he undertook his leadership with enormous seriousness. One troubling factor was that the majority of the rebels had not had any form of sword fighting training – patrolling guards had increased in the last few days and the curfew had hindered this. This could prove disastrous, but if the rebels followed the plan step-by-step, they might be able to thwart Drakon and his men.

  “Finn, Quinn,” Hektor called. “Are the carts in position?”

  Finn and Quinn bobbed their heads simultaneously, replying, “Yes, Sir.”

  Hektor waited alongside the first cart which was outside the western tunnel in Hydor. On the eastern side in Pyr Region, near the market area, they had stationed a second cart with Fergus. Rachel and Dom positioned themselves at a third cart which was in the southern Region of Gaia. Alexis guarded the fourth in Aer Region. Loose hay filled these carts and beneath the hay, undistributed weapons lay hidden.

  Hektor waited casually near the cart, leaning against the side with his head bowed. He drew the hood of his cloak low over his eyes, concealing his face. Finn and Quinn meanwhile ambled along the circular road, discreetly hand signalling to the other rebels that everything was in place.

  An hour had passed since the Guardians and the Fallen had descended the stairway. Rachel had watched them separate into four groups, heading to their respective Regions. Thanos had subtly nodded his head at Rachel when he’d passed, his deep brown eyes acknowledging that the Guardians weren’t alone in this fight.

  When the first beam shot into the sky, Rachel was jolted by the magnificent sight. The brass bells clanged above them.

  “Thanos… I hope he’s going to be okay,” she murmured under her breath as she looked toward the south.

  “He’ll be all right.”

  “But when it stops, does that mean that the Guardianship—” Rachel’s voice choked up.

  Dom blinked, his blue eyes locking onto Rachel’s hazel eyes. The unfinished sentence hung heavily in the air.

  Meanwhile the rebels milled about and inconspicuously blended in with the city dwellers. They collected weapons from the strategically placed carts when the timing was right. They smuggled the swords beneath their cloaks or slipped the daggers inside their leather boots until the carts were empty.

  In the west, from the Circle of Hydor, the next beam skyrocketed upwards and a few minutes later, the third beam from the Circle of Aer followed. The third successive ringing of the bells sounded above them.

  When the fourth shaft of light from the Circle of Pyr shot skyward through the black mist and disappeared into the thick cloud hanging over Mount Hieros, the rebels manoeuvred into position.

  Finn and Quinn headed to the entrance of Gaia. Their father, Fergus, wound his way through the throngs of people to the entrance of Pyr. Alexis quickened her stride, her boots clack-clacking on the cobbled road as she hastily made her way to the archway in Aer Region. Rachel and Dom met up with Hektor at the first cart and disappeared through the secret door into the western tunnel.

  Hektor climbed the stone spiral staircase first, followed by Dom and Rachel. When he reached the landing, he stopped. Blocking his way was a solid stone wall.

  “Rachel,” Hektor said. “It’s time to do your magic tricks.”

  Rachel squeezed past them in the confined area. Placing her hands on the wall she fiddled around for a few seconds. Once she located the notch, she pressed it firmly and slid a stone-block, which jutted out on the other side of the wall. Kneeling down, she jiggled another notch, wriggling it with her hand.

  “Ouch!” she cried out, as she grazed her finger against the rough stone.

  “Be careful,” said Dom.

  “I’ve got it.” Rachel shoved the stone-block and it popped out.

  The heavy stone door swung open. They stepped out into an L-shaped alcove that screened them from the tunnels leading to the dungeons.

  Dom heaved the door cl
osed and the two stone-blocks clunked back into position. “I should memorise your tricks,” he mused, while winking at Rachel. “For just in case.”

  “You don’t need to… I don’t plan on dying just yet!” Rachel replied cheekily.

  As they stepped forward, Hektor’s arm shot out, cautioning them. Rachel and Dom waited while Hektor inched forward along the narrow corridor, disappearing around the corner.

  “All clear,” his hushed voice echoed back.

  Rachel took the lead since she knew her way through the tunnels far better than the others did. She held her sword at the ready and, at each turn, she warily stepped around the corner.

  Unexpectedly loud voices carried their way. Rachel ducked behind a broken, lopsided water barrel, while Dom and Hektor dived into a recess. Rachel peeped out from behind the barrel.

  “I should throw you in here with the scum,” Gruff threatened. “You deserted me.”

  “I ran for help. Why don’t you believe me?” squeaked Scrawny.

  Gruff huffed. “Your skull’s too thick to get through to you. I don’t know why I even bother.”

  Scrawny swiped at his greasy hair. “So this one’s important…”

  “He used to be a Guardian,” replied Gruff, “a long time ago.”

  Keys jingled and a lock clicked open. The guards led a tall man out of the cell and hastily turned back toward the amphitheatre.

  In the lock, the keys swayed enticingly.

  Rachel acted swiftly. Bolting out from behind the barrel, she grabbed the keys and pocketed them in her tunic. “The others… they’re here somewhere.”

  “We don’t have time,” Dom said urgently. “We need to stick to the plan.”

  “But I have to find my daughter,” Hektor said. “I’ll come with you, Rachel.”

  “Go with Dom, I’ll look for Elektra,” Rachel whispered. “We’ll meet up later.”

  Hektor hesitated, but Dom grabbed his arm. “Master Hektor, we must go.”

  Rachel sprinted from cell to cell. Prisoners inside stirred at the sound of her footsteps. “Elektra, Elektra,” she called.

  “The last tunnel… she’s down there… at the end,” a fragile, old woman directed Rachel. “Will you come back for us?”