The Wildest Woods

by S. K Munt

  But if she registered his directed thoughts, she gave no sign of showing it then, so lost was she in the beauty of the world around her. It was a deep lake, glorious and sparkling, but the eyes of those that had been watching it emerge were suddenly drawn to their leader’s form instead, because she’d undergone a transformation of her own at Satan’s behest. In the blink of an eye, her daughter’s white cloak had vanished, and suddenly she was wearing a soft, billowy and periwinkle-hued gown that was the second most delicate, most superbly crafted thing that any of them had ever seen.

  The first of course, was the girl in it.

  The ethereal beauty was unaware of what had happened, of course, or of the way that her father was rubbing her mother’s shoulder encouragingly as they both fondly watched her, because she was too wrapped up in her own delight to realise that she’d become the source of so much of it. So, oblivious to the way that her gold and platinum ribbons of hair were swirling around her, or how that warm sunset was staining her skin a luminous rose gold, the girl spun in delighted circles, turning her face up to the sky, while glittering tear tracks slipped down her rosy cheeks for all to see.

  ‘Paradise!’ the angel proclaimed, before Satan could respond. ‘This truly is a paradise!’ Her skirts swirled around her as she twirled, a dozen layers of fabric so soft and petal-like that they fluttered like wind, and then her wings unfurled too, and although the pirates began to cry out with a mixture of awe and alarm, the Pirate Captain fell to his knees at Satan’s side, making your narrator wonder how bruised they would be by the weight of his stupid passion by the end of the day.

  ‘Make her my soul mate, and I will swear myself to you for eternity!’ the pirate rasped, grasping Satan’s train, as everything that he was about to say ran through his mind in an archaic tongue before it came out in English: ‘I’ll do anything! Just swear that she will be mine, and mine alone!’

  ‘Earn her faith in you as I have, and everything you dream of shall be yours,’ was Satan’s quiet response before she tugged herself free and began to stumble after her daughter, and your narrator glowered over at the starry-eyed pirate as he grinned beatifically and pushed back up to his feet, thinking that paradise or not, this new land already felt awfully crowded.

  ‘It’s perfect!’ Larkin rejoiced, snagging his attention again. ‘It is exactly what I wanted-’

  ‘Not yet, it’s not!’ Satan protested, taking her arm from Bastien’s and turning to face the ruins, which your narrator could now see was a collection of old, grey-ish bricks that had been stained by mould and grime and overcome with ivy. ‘There’s one last thing I have to do-’ but when she held up her hand, all of those that had been staring at it gasped to see that translucency had started eating away at her form from her fingertips, and by the time her daughter had seen it too, it had swallowed up her entire hand. ‘Oh!’ Satan looked crestfallen, but she glanced to her other hand with a hopeful expression that dissolved in kind, because her skin was practically translucent all the way to her shoulder on that arm too. ‘Oh dear, I thought I’d have enough strength left to build you a home-’

  ‘I will build a home for all of us!’ Larkin declared, fluttering to her mother’s side, alarm written all over her face now. ‘Just hold onto all the strength you have left for as long as you can so I don’t lose contact with you again-’

  ‘No!’ Satan stepped by her, eyes narrowing in determination as she focused on the ruins once more. ‘God gave Miguel so much, but he wasn’t as pure or as worthy as you! It is your turn to be a queen, and a queen needs a palace-’

  ‘I don’t need a palace, and I don’t even need to be a queen!’ Larkin cried, reaching out and grabbing her mother’s other hand, and just like that, the world pulsed and throbbed before exploding with light and fire and flames and stars, expanding from the precise point where Larkin’s hand had clutched Satan’s. People screamed and ducked as an aftershock of invisible power reverberated against them, shaking the very ground that they were standing on while a sonic boom resounded in the atmosphere.

  She did it! Your narrator thought as he fell back onto the grass beneath him, and felt his fingers sick into warm, moist soil. She took her mother’s hand!

  But as overwhelming as that surge of energy was, it only lasted for a matter of seconds, and as soon as the noise and the light of the cataclysm began to ebb away, your narrator became aware of three crucial things- that a giant structure had appeared in the clearing where the ruins had been, that Satan and her daughter were both gaping down at the place where their hands touched, the place where that radiant wave of conjoined energy had come from, and that everybody was cheering.

  ‘But you are a queen,’ Satan whispered, looking up into her daughter’s eyes and smiling fondly, and even though her daughter did not notice it, the people that had followed her across the snow for days were slowly starting to bow in the meadow to and around her. Satan was translucent all over by then- barely there at all- but Larkin still held her tightly, and that seemed to be keeping her tethered to the world. Correctly sensing that she had overextended herself, the mother brushed a tendril of her daughter’s hair over her shoulder and said quickly and softly: ‘I cannot change that, I wouldn’t dream of it and I hope that in time, you will understand that it is not a burden that I am handing you,’ she nodded to the building that she had created, ‘but a blessing and an opportunity comparable to none.’ Her lip twitched. ‘God created man in his image- but woman was created in mine. Let’s see what happens with one that is as strong as she is compassionate at the helm, hmm? Especially one that would never be so foolish again, as to lose sight of everything that matters for a man…. right?’

  The girl turned to look at the palace that had just been blinked into existence by their concentrated strength, and as soon as she saw it, the dark angel’s now periwinkle-hued eyes overflowed. The castle that was sprawled across the valley was grand, white and glittering, reflecting the pink and gold hue of the sky on one side, and then casting its own reflection onto the lake on the other, and the picture was so lovely that even your narrator was moved by the sight of it. At least one hundred shiny windows glistened in that golden sunset, and ivy was already crawling over the walls and balconies on the southern side, slithering around a turret on a wing that looked somewhat unfinished- as though even their combined strength had not quite been enough to live up to Larkin’s idle but fantastical daydreams. Unconcerned by that minor flaw, Satan’s daughter wiped the tears off her face and wet her lips, and the first words that she said out loud proved exactly why she had been destined to rule:

  ‘We can all fit in there, can’t we?’ she whispered, astonished. ‘Not one single person will have to sleep in the cold again, so long as it stands!’

  Her question was met with a chorus of enamoured sighs, and that was when the girl finally looked around and saw that there was a carpet of people literally on their knees in front of her- one that included the pirates too. Satan’s daughter flushed crimson, and when she stood up and realised that she was dressed differently too, her face grew redder yet. She whirled around, preparing herself to give her mother a hard time about putting her in a party dress, but before she could articulate the phrasing, her eyes fell on the delicate platinum crown that Satan was holding out to her- one that was encrusted with the same strand of diamonds that had been wrapped around her throat- and her eyes dilated briefly before turning the brightest lilac.

  ‘No,’ Satan said, smiling. ‘Not a single person in your kingdom will suffer so long as you are at the helm, of that I am certain. The question is though, do you accept responsibility for all of them this day?’

  Your narrator smiled then, for he’d been inside the girl’s head enough to know that Larkin wouldn’t have been more impressed if she’d been handed the moon, and when she swallowed hard and nodded gently, succumbing to the only lust that she had left- a lust for rare things that sparkled- her mother smiled too.

  ‘I will,’ the girl looked around, suddenly nervou
s. ‘That is, if they are willing-’ but she’d barely finished saying that, when everyone began to clap and cheer thunderously. The object of their affection pursed her lips in a humble smile, but her eyes were shining with delight, and when Martya Rice started an impromptu kick line in celebration, a giggle escaped her lips too. Your narrator chuckled, and hearing it, his charge- his future queen- blessed him with an affectionate and very inclusive smile that was even warmer than the fading sunlight was.

  Your palace is unfinished, he said to her, jerking his head towards where the ivy was slithering over the roof, and taking advantage of her attention while her people went on celebrating to acknowledge this miraculous moment as nonchalantly as possible. But I’m pretty handy with a hammer and nails… want to keep me around for a while longer so I can fix it up for you?

  It’s made of stone, so you’re not as handy as you think you are, she sent back to me, winking. And it’s not unfinished- Satan left it that way for me because in my fantasy, I had a space of my own that I could retreat to, where I’d never be completely surrounded or trapped by walls again. She bit her lip. But still, you’re more than welcome to stay, Sam- forever, if you’re so inclined.

  Good. Your narrator tapped his notebook, which unbeknownst to her, was filled with as many drawings of her as it was with descriptions of her actions. Because something tells me this story isn’t finished yet- not by a long shot.

  And it won’t be, until you’ve received your soul as payment for all you have done for me.

  Your narrator bowed his head to her then, glad that he did not have a functioning heart, because she surely would have stopped it with those words. Still, he had an ego so he flushed with the pleasure of appreciation.

  ‘Raphael Lazarus…’ Satan said solemnly then, her wings unfurling and fluttering as her daughter’s did, betraying nervousness as everyone else quietened down again. ‘You are one of God’s archangels, and are therefore, entitled to a kingdom on this earth. Do you accept this throne on this unclaimed land this day?’

  ‘I do,’ Shepherd Birch leaned over and kissed his daughter’s scarlet cheek. ‘And I happily abdicate it to my only daughter, Larkin Aztaroth.’

  ‘Then I declare you will henceforth and ever be known as Queen, Larkin Aztaroth, ruler of the country of Raphael,’ Satan said, and as she placed the crown on our angel’s head, your narrator captured the moment in his memory- the real beginning of this new world, before he too started to bow. ‘Rule kindly in my name, treat all as equals- but live as humans were meant to; happily, and wholly, with fire in your soul.’ She looked into her daughter’s eyes, and there was fire within them too. ‘Rejoice in my name child, but spill no blood for it. And never forget- there is no such thing as good, or evil-’

  ‘Only different coloured feathers,’ Larkin said quietly, ‘that are as equal to one another in worth, as night is to day.’

  And then the crown was on Larkin’s head, and life as we all had known it evaporated as quickly as the devil had, leaving only potential for heaven on earth at Satan’s behest behind.

  23.

  Eden Palace, City Of Arcadia

  Kohén Barachiel

  May 4th, AA647

  I’d expected to be assailed by unpleasant emotions on my return to Eden, and had been dreading stepping foot into that palace all night because I knew for a fact that the sovereign still loathed me... but I had not expected to find the new king looking almost exactly like the faded portraits of the old one, and I was so rattled by my brother’s altered appearance that I came to a halt that was so sharp that my boots squeaked against the marble floor. I cringed, first at the noise my boots had made, then again when the guard behind me ran into the back of my legs and cursed audibly. I’d hoped to enter Eden smoothly, leave quickly and hopefully do both somewhat covertly, but not only did every in the room look our way when Saul-Yin cussed me out, but a few even chuckled.

  Fortunately, I was too astonished by my elder brother’s transformation for my embarrassment to resonate too strongly with me in the moment. People had warned me that Karol had become more withdrawn and joyless since I’d left Eden, but the majority of the memories that I had of him had been unpleasant ones anyway, so I was more overwhelmed by the physical manifestation of his misery now than I was by the way he scowled despondently at me upon my approach because at least the latter had been anticipated. His withered appearance, on the other hand...

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Saul-Yin hissed from behind me, but I couldn’t answer my comrade without drawing even more unwanted attention our way and so I forced myself to walk forward a few more paces and down the low marble steps that connected the foyer to the throne room, willing my palms not to spark inside my thin leather gloves when Karol’s glare intensified, and praying that the other guard knew me well enough to know when to shut up, because my mouth was too dry to even whisper the command- like it had been stuffed with cotton wool.

  My head felt the same way too, and it was hard not to rub my eyes to try and scrub away my disbelief. I had a few faded memories of Karol as an adolescent from before I’d lost my memory, fewer still of him being a broken, angry and freshly-minted king that had just turned thirty after... but now he looked like the ghost of a slain king and the father that I’d barely known instead of the man in his prime that he was supposed to be, and that was beyond unsettling. In fact, it sort of seemed like the golden vines that snaked around his throne had held him bound to the same spot since I’d last visited Eden, six months beforehand, because there was no evidence that he’d moved, changed his clothes or showered since then that I could see. No evidence to prove that he’d done anything but fade in my absence at all.

  Karol’s beard had not yet been touched with grey, but it was wiry, un-braided and unkempt, and because everyone in Calliel groomed their beards except for the Sheps, it made him look more like a Godless man than the most powerful man on the planet. His green eyes were flat and moved lethargically, and although our family had South American lineage, you wouldn’t have picked it from looking at the king then, for his complexion was sallow and sickly. On top of all of that, he’d gotten dangerously thin, which made him look drawn around the eyes and cheeks.

  Is he unwell? I thought, pausing to bow at the edge of the grassy path that formed the carpet that led up to the throne, and nudging Saul-Yin with my boot to indicate that they should do the same. I didn’t have to bow like the other guard did, but it felt right and it gave me the opportunity to hide my reflexive wince so I held it for longer than necessary while I collected myself. When did he last eat? Smile? Turn that face up to the sun? How could a healer wither so in such a short amount of time?

  ‘Kohén Barachiel of the Third Arcadian Division…’ someone I did not know droned, announcing me, and the murmur of surprise that rippled through the courtiers present did not go unnoticed by me. I didn’t know why they were surprised by that little introduction because I’d spent the last two years feeling like the most visible, despised person in Calliel every time I visited Arcadia, but I felt my cheeks heat and my sparks intensify in response to their blatant astonishment. Sun was streaming through the atrium ceiling above us and washing the entire room with golden light and making it glitter, but my name had been lost in the shadows for years and I felt the pronunciation of it chill the entire room now.

  Yes, I’m the one that ruined the kingdom... I agreed silently, reminding myself to keep my grip on the scrolls relaxed so I wouldn’t buckle and smudge them with clenched fists. Line up with your rotten vegetables people, the ‘bad’ prince has returned to stain your paradise with his presence again!

  ‘I don’t think an introduction is necessary,’ the King drawled his hate for me piercing me like bullets from his eyes. ‘But then again, Kohén has been known to forget himself on occasion and mistake himself for his twin, so perhaps it is only wise to remind him of who he is and what family he is representing every time he enters this palace, isn’t it? That way, he’ll remember to conduct himself a
ccordingly.’

  His little dig pissed me off, but I knew that he was trying to get a rise out of me and I was not going to rise to bite back- especially not publicly. I could hide the sparks in my hands, but there would be no concealing the glow in my eyes if he pushed me too far, so it was up to me to get my job over with and then get gone before a scene was made in front of the nobility that were assembled there. After all, they were already scared of me and what I was capable enough as it was! Also, it was obvious to me that Saul-Yin had not taken a breath since the king had spoken, and I wouldn’t be held responsible for a member of my division passing out on the throne room floor from fright, so it was up to me to keep the situation- and all temperaments- under control by getting out of there as soon as possible.

  ‘Your highness…’ I bowed again, and then extended the scrolls to him. ‘It is good to see you again, and in such high spirits. I thank you for being so concerned with my health but I can assure you that my short term memory at least, is still working well. I do not question who I am, and even if I did, other people- like yourself- have gone to great lengths to ensure that I never forget myself again.’ Or live it down, I silently added. Despite how hard I’ve worked to become a person of worth!

  ‘And who are you?’ the king asked, looking at me and the scrolls I was holding like I’d just tracked dog shit across the golden rug on the throne room’s floor and was now handing him a steaming fistful of the same foul substance as an offering instead of military dispatches.

  ‘Just a soldier, your highness,’ I said quietly, and a look of satisfaction smoothed out his puckered expression while the courtiers around him visibly relaxed, pleased to see that I was hanging my head as I ought to and opting to give myself the title of ‘just’ instead of ‘Prince’. ‘One that has two very important messages to deliver you: One from the General, and one from Guardian Forsyth.’