PinoyWrimos

Once upon a time
There was a kingdom called the Kingdom of Heaven,
The most beautiful kingdom there was.
And in this peaceful kingdom lived the angels, the children of the gods.
Very beautiful people with large wings that enable them to fly.
They were happy and prosperous and powerful.

The Kingdom of Empyrea was a kingdom that ruled the land, the sea and the skies. Empyrea was a name meant for Heaven and truly it was indeed an appropriate name for such a country. It was magnificent and peaceful, a paradise on Earth with lush green forests and meadows, speckled with colorful wildflowers, common and rare, with seldom a dark cloud in the sky. A pacifist kingdom that would rather discuss a conflict than go into war. A utopia, as one might say.

But there was a secret hidden under all that prosperity and goodness,

A secret that could very much destroy the nation itself.

A power was bestowed to the people of Empyrea. A power that could give birth to kingdoms and countries, civilization and culture. A power that could also fall and annihilate races, destroy and obliterate life. The people were first afraid of this power, that it could soon bring their nation to an end. But it was this power that had brought them harmony and opulence. It was this power that had brought them to the highest echelon of kingdoms.

In the end, however, the people grew arrogant of this power.

There was nothing more than the gods can do.

They had the power to create, to destroy, to give and take away lives. It was like the power of a god. Soon, they willed themselves to grow wings, immaculate white feathers that resembled that of an angel’s, to touch the sky without the need for technology. To fully become gods themselves. And for this, they were punished, not by the gods, but by a human, the King himself, sacrificing his own life to save his kingdom.

A flood ravaged the land and everything was obliterated. Everything.
Only the Royal House stood.
But soon, the gods breathed life into the land
The kingdom flourished once more.

The lands were devastated. The cities were in ruins. The people were dead. Everything was gone. But just like a seemingly dead tree after the winter had gone by, the kingdom flourished once more. The wealth was back, the meadows and forests restored, the rivers and streams flowed. Houses, cities and citadels rebuilt, the people reincarnated. It was renamed. The New Kingdom of Empyrea. The new kingdom of Heaven.

But in order to keep this power,
The new King had to erase the people’s memories of the past,
Removed the wings of their wrongdoings,
Released them from the knowledge of the power they had possessed.

However, the Royal House was still afraid of the power, afraid that the people might remember it and use it once again. Afraid that not only the kingdom would fall into ruins but other lands as well.

A creature was born
To not let history repeat itself.

It was a system created out of magic and science, out of the power bestowed to Empyrea. A system that would pull the kingdom back to its feet, to restore the kingdom back to its golden days. It was a system that would ensure the prosperity of the kingdom for centuries, even millennia, to come. And yet it was also a system that would bring grief to each generation of the Royal House. A system that would ask for a sacrificial lamb in order to nourish itself.

This creature would bear a name
It would earn a title
A curse bestowed to the youngest descendant of the House.
The fate of a young girl.
The ‘treasure’.
That was how it was named.

“Lady Princess, your thoughts run deep.”

Selas raised her gaze from her hands at the baritone and inclined her head in response, not a word escaping her lips.

They were seated inside the regal dining hall, at an oak table that could seat more than a hundred guests. The room itself was large enough to accommodate a thousand. Splendid walls, dressed in bold tapestries, rose to the vaulted ceiling, frescoed with mythical creatures and figures, while a chandelier of a hundred candles hung in midair, the crystal and gold ornaments tinkling softly. Suits of armors, glinting under the flickering candlelight, stood guard at the four sets of doors, as well as on either side of a great marble fireplace behind the head of the table that provided a warm glow inside the room.

However, the chamber, as well as the manor was far from warm and inviting. It was cold, distant and suffocating, a false image of welcome. It was a far cry from convivial but intimidating and daunting. The halls were gloomy; the delicate stone arches, orifices and statues motionless for time immemorial.

The four doors opened with nay a sound and a procession of platters of heavy silver started, bore by servants, looking rather elfish than human. The meal was a great collection of delicacies for an early morning meal: icy bunches of grapes; apples with glistening skins of red, green and gold; bowls of the finest berries, of deep blue and purple and potent scarlet, mingling with the crimson colors of the cherries. Crystal platters held cheese of different kinds, of white and yellow ones, and fresh bread with a sweet aroma.

Water, clear and pure, that came from the cleanest and freshest of springs, was served in glass flutes. And there was wine as well, produced from the most succulent of grapes, fermented for years in wooden barrels. It was a feast fit for an emperor.

And yet, the young princess, waited upon by a female elf, had only eaten little: an apple, cut into small slivers, a slice of white bread with sweet butter.

“You are trying to starve yourself in form of defiance, my dear princess?” the Sorcerer commented, laying his silverware noiselessly on his plate. The expression on his face was apparent, mild temper, eclipsed even more by the shadows created by the flames.

She inclined her head once more, a polite smile gracing her lips. “I am quite full, my Lord Sylvan.”

“You have barely eaten and yet you say you are quite full?” His voice was dark and scathing. “Do not jest, Lady Princess. I cannot have you dead in my palace.”

Her reply was mere silence, only a slight nod of her head as acknowledgment. She as well laid her silver fork on the peacock-jewel china quietly and folded her dainty hands on her lap, averting her gaze to the fleur-de-lis pattern on the linen mantle.

The young Sorcerer rose from his seat, oak scraping against marble, his dark robes rustling softly, and walked over to her. While they would hardly speak over breakfast, except perhaps for an offhanded remark or inquiry, he knew that something was preoccupying her thoughts. He had noticed her lack of appetite, in addition to her listlessness during the meal for past few days. She had become too difficult to please, reverting once more to her behavior when she had first arrived two moons ago.
He stared down at her, his hazel eyes turning golden under the glow of the fire. With one swift motion, he reached out and cupped her chin, forcing her to look his way. But to his disdain, her eyes moved to cast downwards. An annoyed expression crossed his features.

“Please do not be stubborn, Lady Princess.” He was rather ill-tempered that evening. For what reason, he could not understand. Perhaps it was his temper, finally boiling over. “I despise that kind of attitude.”

Selas looked up at him, sapphires clashing against hazels. “Forgive me, my Lord. I do not mean my insolence.”

Her words were spoken without malice, in a voice that was calm and unwavering, and those words had made him retract his hand, release the grip on her chin. She inclined her head to a slight bow, her gaze downcast once more. That was then that he noticed the pink color blossoming against her fair complexion on the spot where he had held her. As if his fingers burned her skin upon contact. His hands closed upon into a fist, his nails digging in his palm, as he returned to his seat.

“Tell me, Lady Princess,” the Sorcerer started, resting his chin on one hand as he leaned against the arm of his seat, as the fingers of his free hand lifted a silverware. “What are you thinking of?”

His imperative voice made her look up, briefly meeting his eyes. There was an inquiring glint in them, her eyes, laced with a momentary uncertainty that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. What were her thoughts? What were her hesitations? What would be her response? What would be her words?

She opened her mouth, her gaze intent on the clear liquid in her flute. “Nothing, my Lord. I am thinking of nothing.”

He stared at her in dismay, her response rather unsatisfactory and untruthful. Even in the past, she had never responded to him, often refused to answer his inquiries, just as he had never responded to her actions, refusing attachment of any kind.

“Have I not given you everything you needed, Princess?” Once more, his tone was a mixture of vexation and scorn.

“Everything but the one thing that I desire most, my Lord.”

It was a reply that he did not expect, a reply that sent several questions in his mind. He set the silver down once more and pushed away his plate, his appetite completely abandoning him. For words such as these, did she not have any gratitude to him? He pushed himself back to his feet, thoroughly irritated for the evening. His temper had not been pleasant and Selas was not helping it, merely adding more fuel to the fire.

“I have had quite enough for tonight,” he said coolly as he strode back towards one of the doors without a single glance over his shoulder, his indigo cloak trailing behind him. “Perhaps tomorrow night, you may have found your manners once more, Lady Princess.”

And with that, he stepped out of the room, the slamming of the door echoing throughout the vast hall.