Phoebus waved his hand, and a hundred candles sprang to life. Whatever Kallistê and Oberon said about magic being drained and off-kilter thanks to the attacks clearly hadn't affected Phoebus as dramatically, or perhaps he had been far more powerful to start with. The tang of magic stung my senses but I kept my chin high. That is, until I peered inside.
My palms began sweating as I took in the enormous, opulent study. Tomes lined each wall like the soldiers of a silent army, and couches, desks, and rich rugs were scattered throughout the room. But ... it had been over a week since I left my family, hence signing the contract with Japeth. And because the attacks were slowly, but surely, moving South, because I had wasted so much time dallying around, it was only time that kept the faeries from realising the truth about me. And it was only time that separated us from sparking another war.
There was only one method to stop that from happening.
"Do you need anything else?" Phoebus asked and I jerked. He still stood behind me.
"No," I said, striding into the study. I couldn't think about the casual power he'd just shown—the graceful carelessness with which he'd brought so many flames to life. I had to focus on the task at hand.
It wasn't entirely my fault that I was scarcely able to read. Before our downfall, my mother had sorely neglected our education, not bothering to hire a governess. And after poverty struck and my elder brothers, who could read and write, deemed the village school beneath us, they didn't bother to teach me. I could read enough to function—enough to form my letters, but so poorly that even signing my name was mortifying.
It was bad enough that Phoebus might have a hint. I would think about where some of the landmarks are located once I have gained some information; perhaps I could beg a favour of him, or Kallistê or Oberon.
Asking them to read out words I struggled with would be too humiliating. I could hear their words: typical ignorant human. And since Kallistê seemed convinced that I would turn spy the moment I could, which she was not wrong about, she would no doubt burn whatever notes I have, and any I tried to write after. So I'd have to learn myself.
"I'll leave you to it, then," Phoebus said as our silence became too prolonged, too tense.
I didn't move until he'd closed the doors, shutting me inside. My heartbeat pulsed throughout my body as I approached a shelf.
.____________________.
I had to take a break for dinner and to sleep, but I was back in the study before dawn had fully risen. I'd found a small writing desk in a corner and gathered papers and ink. My finger traced a line of text, and I whispered the words.
" 'The hun-tress ... huntress walked si ... lently ... silently into the cave, her bow ... bo ...' " I sat back in my chair and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. When I felt near less from ripping my hair, I took the quill and underlined the word: bowstring.
With a shaking hand, I did my best to copy letter after letter onto the ever-growing list I kept beside the book. There were at least forty words on it, their letters malformed and barely legible. I would look up their pronunciations later.
I rose from the chair, needing to stretch my legs, my spine—or just to get away from that lengthy list of words I didn't know how to pronounce and the permanent heat that now warmed my face and neck.
I supposed the study was more of a library, as I couldn't see any of the walls thanks to the small labyrinths of stacks flanking the main area and a mezzanine dangling above, covered wall to wall in books. But study sounded less intimidating. I meandered through some of the stacks, following a trickle of sunlight to a bank of windows on the far side. I found myself overlooking a rose garden, filled with dozens of hues of crimson and pink and white and yellow.
I might have allowed myself a moment to take in the colours, gleaming with dew under the morning sun, had I not glimpsed a flash of silver from the corner of my eye.
Not just a flash of silver, I thought, blinking as I stepped closer to where it melded with the shadows. No, it was a leather-bound book, coated in a fine layer of dust as if it had sat there on that marble pedestal for years. That's what it was.
But yet at first I couldn't do anything but stare at the explicit silver designs which covered its simple leather cover. But again no, it was not silver. It was more like moonlight made form, able to bring the light in any darkness. How could this masterpiece be tucked back here for no one to ever see? As if it was nothing—absolutely nothing—to create something like this. I tried reading the title but deemed it impossible after several attempts.
A History of Asteria
Theron Adriel
Flipping the first page open, I allowed myself to take in the painting which filled the browned paper. A few lines of a language I didn't know were scribbled at the bottom, the ink faded. I flicked through the rest of the pages and it didn't surprise me when they were covered with more paintings, and more of that unusual language.
They told a story with the way colours and shapes and light flowed, the way the tone shifted across painting to painting, page to page. The story ... of Asteria.
I sighed as I returned to the first page, brushing a finger across a faint line of text. This book was useless to me as I couldn't read the strange language. Maybe for a faerie, it would make sense, but for a human, it wouldn't be more than just a jumble of symbols. I made to leave except suddenly, as I was turning away, the study started disappearing in a sweep of gold, as if a scene was being erased before my eyes.
Panicked, I swivelled to the book, golden sparkling liquid pouring out of it. No—not sparkling, but ...effervescent with small symbols, the ... ancient language that had been written in the book.
Whatever the liquid touched disappeared, as if it had never existed. First the bookshelves vanished, then the walls—
My body shivered and my palms became sweaty. What did I do? I took a step back towards the window, where the warm glow of the sun seemed so, so far away.
Then the ceiling, the desk, the floor around me—I lunged to a corner to avoid being erased.
"No, no—" I ducked to avoid a streak of white. What was happening? How do I get out of this? Is this all coming from the book?
An imaginary wind whipped at my hair and threw stranded papers and quills into a small, forming cyclone. Bits of paper scratched my face, my arms, my neck as I backed away, trying to escape whatever was happening.
The gold continued to spread, enveloping everything in its path. The last thing I saw was the leather book, golden liquid still pouring from its pages, sitting there in a sea of gold. A loud voice boomed:
"Chapter One: The Creation"
No, no, what was happening? The ground vanished beneath my feet and I free-fell into emptiness, the voice's words echoing blending into an ancient silence—
I squeezed my eyes shut as my hands reached out to grasp anything, anything to bring me back to the surface.
But then, I stopped falling. And peeling my eyes open, I realised I was no longer in the study but a vast, dark area filled with twinkling lights. Calm, open, and powerful were only a few words to describe this ... this place. Awe washed away my fear and it was then when I remembered why the scenery looked so familiar. A painting from the leather book—I was brought into the book itself.
"It began with the Mother."
The same voice which had spoken before came from my right. Turning to face the source of that male voice, I wasn't surprised to see a translucent shimmering male beside me. Clad in gold and white robes, he hovered a few inches away from the ground. A golden crown rested among his thick, brown locks—so similar to Phoebus's—and whether he knew I was there, he didn't deem to acknowledge my presence.
I stretched out a hand to touch his arm but as if he was just no more than a wisp of smoke, my hand went through him. I fell back—a hand flying to cover my mouth. Of course he wasn't real. All this was just part of the book after all. The male spoke:
"She was the creator of all things. Of life, of death, of nature, and our world. Without the Mother, our kind would have never been created and Asteria would have ceased to exist."
A bright glow emitted before me and I had to shield my eyes from the glare. Though, the glow soon faded and left a towering woman in its wake. Godlike was what one could call her. I watched as she ripped out part of this starry dimension and shaped it into a sphere—where it solidified into a world, covered in oceans and land. The fae male continued:
"Ripping out part of the universe she had created for us, she formed our world. With our world, the Mother also birthed many life forms. Plants, animals humans-"
The scene fixated to show humans—my kind—from years ago. Farmers, warriors, families ...
"-monsters, gods, and many more. To guard and protect her creations, she formed the three ancient Zargans from a small piece of her soul. They were known to be kind immortal creatures, born without hearts but with right minds so that they would not stray from what they were created to do."
His voice hardened. I craned my head to look at the male beside me. For the first time, his blue eyes held a glint of danger.
Back and forth, back and forth the scenes changed. Flying colours and shapes describing the history of how the three Zargans soon changed, greed consuming them as they searched the world to gain more power, and how the Mother banished them into mortal bodies. Before they couldn't die, but now they could be killed. I thought about where they could be now, what ... evil they could be causing. I didn't have an answer, and so I sighed and continued to watch the shifting scenes. The male resumed:
"It was when the Zargans failed to fulfill their duty when the Mother created us—the faeries. Taking a piece of her heart, she broke it into two. The darker side formed Morana, a land of nightmares, while the lighter side formed Elanor, a land of dreams. Together, both lands were of equal balance. One could live without the other."
The scene slowly shifted to show a painting of Asteria. Curious, I stood up and took a step closer. Our massive island had fared well for Asteria by comparison, with only the bottom tip given over to us miserable humans.
I took another step closer until I could see the dark, ugly smear that acted as the border—another spiteful touch to whoever the painter was. No markers in the human realm, nothing to indicate any of the larger towns or centres, but ... I found the rough area where our village was and the woods that separated it from the border. That journey to the faerie realm seemed so small—too small—compared to the power lurking above us. I traced an imaginary line, my finger hovering above the image, up over the wall, into these lands—the lands of Elanor. Again, no markers, but it was filled with touches of heaven: trees in bloom, young animals, fat beams of sunshine ... At least I was able to live out my days in the more moderate courts, perspective-wise. A small consolation.
I looked northward and stepped back again. Even though I had seen a map of Asteria once before in the hallway, I had to say that this one was much more detailed. Above Elanor, perched in a frozen mountainous spread of darkness and stars, the sprawling, massive territory of Morana.
There were things in the shadows between those mountains—little eyes, gleaming teeth. A land of lethal beauty. The hair on my arms rose but I continued to look at the heart of that beautiful, living map.
In the centre of the land, as if it were the core around which everything else has spread, or perhaps the place which separated nightmares from dreams, was a small, thick forest range. Bald of cities, bald of life—as if the faeries refused to touch it. There were no more clues about what it might be; nothing to indicate its importance, and I supposed that the viewers were already supposed to know. This book was not for the mortal eye.
I might have examined the other kingdoms across the seas that flanked our land, like the isolated faerie kingdoms to the west that seemed to have gotten away with no territory loss and was still law unto itself, had the scene not shifted again:
"She created faeries of all kinds. Gentle or wicked, horrible or beautiful. But it was over time when lies spread and brewed the Fae War. A war among Seelie Fae and Unseelie Fae to gain dominance."
The scene melted and it became hard to look at the next. It was so simple, yet so detailed that, for a moment, I stood there on that battlefield, feeling the texture of the bloodied mud beneath me, shoulder to shoulder with the thousands of Seelie Faeries lined up, facing the Unseelie Faerie hordes who charged at us. A moment of pause before the slaughter.
The Seelie Faeries' arrows and swords seemed so pointless against the Unseelie Faeries bristling with claws and fangs. Yet, after knowing the Seelie Faeries also possessed great amounts of power, it was obvious which army would win. The scene changed again and I knew—I knew without another scene to explicitly show me or for the fae male to narrate—the Unseelie Faeries hadn't survived that particular battle. The smear of black on the new scene, tinged with glimmers of red, said enough. The fae male continued:
"I was only a child when the war raged. But I knew enough to know that both sides had high casualties and have kept their separate ways ever since."
The fae male's eyes were glazed over—as if lost in memory. But then he shook his head and recommenced:
"The Seelie Faeries during my time were alluring, yet cruel. The rulers of Asteria."
The scene flashed to show the Seelie Faeries in their luxurious, comfortable lives.
"The Unseelie faeries, however, were outcasted, kept as slaves. Those that were considered dangerous, monstrous were pushed into Vonain. Forever damned to be trapped. The Baphomet, the snake-like creature which you can kill only by acknowledging it,"
A painting of the creature I had killed flashed in front of me, more snakelike than I had seen it. My heart lurched.
"the Ravana, the cursed demon able to possess a living creature,"
An image of a smoke-like creature with rows and rows of teeth made of iron covered in rust fleeted by.
"and the Alger, the faerie of all your answers,"
My heart leapt as a vivid painting of a withered crone draped in tattered rags paused before my eyes. So it was true. What Kallistê said about the Alger being able to answer one's questions if they were brave enough to face it—was true.
"were only some to have shared that unlucky fate."
The scene shifted again and my hair rose on the back of my neck. Spinning around, I could have sworn I saw the fae male's eyes drilling into my skull. But no, his eyes remained focused on the scenes ahead.
I didn't pay much attention to the scenes which played next, my eyes scanning exhaustive paintings of how the Imperial Lords were created by the Mother, and how they helped keep the peace between Seelie, and Unseelie faeries. Nevertheless, when the chapter ended with a final painting of the two Imperial Lords ruling over their respective courts did my mind refocus:
"From the creation of the Imperial Lords, peace has lasted between Seelie and Unseelie faeries. The Mother created them to rule in peace, and with a hope to prevent another war to brew or for an ancient evil to destroy Asteria."
The scene enhanced on the two Imperial Lords, rising into the night sky—
"For if even one Imperial Lord is gone, Asteria would be reduced to nothing. With her fading breaths, the Mother had used her last embers of magic to create a last spell on Asteria, and their Imperial Lords: a way to keep the peace between us all. As long as this proof stayed intact, then Asteria would continue to thrive in perfect balance. And as to what this proof is ..."
My breath hitched in my throat as my heartbeat quickened—
"It remains in Asteria to this very day."
The scene dissolved into ashes and everything went dark, leaving only the glowing fae male beside me.
I stood up urgently and started pacing. No, no it can't be. I couldn't kill the Imperial Lords, not after learning what would happen to the faeries, to Asteria if I did. I knew it wouldn't affect me but was I doing the right thing in killing them to save my kind? What was this proof? What would happen once Asteria has fallen? I ran a hand through my hair, sweaty from clenching it into a fist for too long.
"Stop pacing child. You are only making my headache worse from having to stop time just to talk with you."
I jumped, spinning around fast and coming eye to eye with the fae male. I had forgotten about him, forgotten about how it was only the two of us in this dark, empty space. His shimmering form was the only source of light.
"How-I thought-" I began.
He lifted a hand to silence me. "Listen. I don't have much time to tell you what you need to know, so please just listen."
Too stunned to speak I nodded my head.
The fae male took a deep breath. "Before you accuse me of things, I was the one who led you here to have you understand a little more of the history of Asteria. I am also unaware of the current events and situations going on in Asteria right now but I have been informed that there is a great evil forming in which I am afraid threatens Asteria itself."
I thought about the last scene, how Asteria had just ... disintegrated into ashes, nothing more than a fading memory.
He shook his head. "I don't know what this evil is or if it has any allies but you need to stop it, child."
His form started fading. "How but- Who are you?"
The fae male looked behind him with pleading eyes, as if seeing some sort of gateway that was about to suck him in. "I don't have time, child." A small, sad smile sent in my direction. "Make the right choice when the time comes—and live to see everything flourish."
He was almost transparent now. "But- Wait!" I cried out, "What evil? What is the right choice?"
Yet he only smiled before I was swallowed in a portal of gold.
My eyes flew open, blinded by sunlight, swimming in a puddle of sweat as I found myself standing in front of the pedestal. The leather book was closed, still coated in a fine layer of dust, as if I had never touched it.
Still recovering from my shock, I went back to my little table. I didn't know if all that had happened was real, or if it was just a figment of my imagination. I needed answers and even though I had learnt some useful information today, it wasn't much to further expand my knowledge.
Picking up my list of words from the smooth, wooden top, I bunched it in my hand, crumpling the paper into a ball, and chucked it into the rubbish bin.
For now, I needed answers, and I was going to get them. And so began my hunt for Kallistê.