ASHLEIGH.
The voice came from a woman who was standing at the top of the luxurious staircase. It was full of lit candles. The flames are suspended in the air, and I can't even admire it beautifully. Tension rises between the servant and the woman with brown hair. But there was nothing that the servant can do but to bow down her head and take a step back. Her name was Atelier? What a beautiful name.
I didn't even speak a word when the aged woman approached me. It was a deliberate and steady pace down the stairs, brown hair cascading down her back, and with a touch of silver of time. Her face was marked with the passage of years. It holds wisdom and resolve.
The dress is graceful, falling in her ankles. It was soft, in earth-toned color of the fabric, and it was flowy in every movement she makes. Her quiet strength radiated towards me. Her upright posture and confidence in every step exuded the intimidation towards me.
She halted before me. Her unwavering gaze towards me locked with dignity. There was something in her eyes that I don't know how to take care of. The weight of her presence filled the space between us. The gravity of words were ready to be spoken, and with calm authority, she spoke directly, "You have training for tomorrow. You already sneaked out to see him, aren't you? You didn't pay respect to your mother."
I was surprised. I have to ask what she stated once again. This so-called "mother" was astonished by my actions. I was confused and took a step back, looking around the castle, as if there was something very wrong in her life. Where am I? What is happening? Earlier, it was another castle. Now, the words bounced at the walls again.
I stood frozen at a moment, there was a whirlwind of confusion. One moment I had been in the dark, suffocating room, my senses were clouded by shadows and there's a weight of something I couldn't even grasp. And now, here I am, in the cold and echoing walls of the grand castle, the towering castle seems unfamiliar. This is so alien to me. I should not be part of this world.
Looking around, her heart pounded. The "so-called mother" was glaring at me, but my thoughts were a tangled mess. There was a door, right?! I can escape. Her eyes found it was behind her. This is a way out. I'm not born to this world, I am not, so I am going back to where I belong. Even with no memories, I will try to bring back what I deserve.
Without thinking, I turn back around.
"Help! Help!" I screamed. The voice broke the silence like thunder.
"They've kidnapped me! Someone help!" The shouts echoed through the hall. I tried to open the door, but it was locked. I was hitching the knob but it doesn't even budge. I got tired of doing it, so I just gave up, and fell down at the floor. What the hell is happening?
"Are you done throwing tantrums again? Like I said, you always do that. Now, Atelier, can you ask some of her sentinels to take her to her room? I wanted her to be in a complete rest before the training tomorrow. I guess, Abraxas has tired her out that she's already out of her wits."
That classy tone insulted me more. If she was my mother, she would understand, right? Since earlier, waking up in that bedroom with a naked man already confuzzled me. And now they're taking me to a room again? I'm so helpless. Even asking for help might not be possible here.
Atelier approached me and stated, "The Sentinels will be here in a moment, My Goddess."
I didn't even have energy to answer her. I just stayed silent while she's standing beside me.
...
The heavy doors to my so-called chamber creaked open. Sentinels, in their dark, ornate armor, stepped to the room, careful on carrying that wooden bamboo with a strong woven blanket in the middle. That's where I was instructed to sit, so I stayed steady while they walk me in. Each sentinel stood tall, movements are fluid and precise. I was vulnerable.
Armor glinting faintly in the torchlight, it was flickering along the stone walls. As Atelier had stated, they were the protectors of the Goddesses. They have sworn to protect me and other Goddess.
I felt weightless in that blanket. The Sentinels had dropped me on the bed, and Atelier asked me to roll down the edge to remove the transporter. I followed them like I was a fluid and just let go any strength to escape this place. Besides, the Sentinels have their expressions concealed behind their armored helm, and their steady movements speak of a complete focus on the task at hand.
They folded the blanket. Atelier commanded, "You can now go back. The Goddess of War will be fine."
I was staring at my feet. It was soft, no creases, as if it was taken care in a nearby foot spa. I laughed at myself. Atelier went to the windows and shoved the curtains close, giving me the privacy I needed for this time.
She walked beside my bed and stated, "My Goddess, you are already in your chamber now, and you seem quiet. Did something petrified you while you are on your way here? I don't seem to get your act. You don't own this kind of behavior."
That was because it was not me! I screamed in my thoughts. I gritted my teeth and turned to her. My eyes must have darkened because she was taken aback, as if she was ready to defend herself from my attack.
I looked up before her, my heart a tumult of emotions. Somewhere deep inside her, there's an undeniable anger that welled up. I vehemently stated, "I am not a Goddess. I am not the Goddess of War. It shouldn't be titled towards me."
The weight of those words were foreign, and Atelier had her mouth open. It seemed to suffocate her spirit.
I nodded, asserting, "I am Ashleigh Howell. That's my name. No other than Ashleigh."
Atelier, an ever-compassionate figure before her, seemed to sense the turmoil. She wasn't able to articulate words of comfort. She moved towards me, cupping my hands on hers, offering the warmth and tenderness, in contrast towards the storm raging in my chest.
Atelier's relaxing voice stated, "You've been pushing yourself too hard."
It was full of care. I could not completely lose it in someone's else narrative. I know the truth: it was because my name is Ashleigh Howell. Atelier tapped her hands on me and stated, "Your mind must be tired. You need to rest, My Goddess. Tomorrow is another day, okay? Let me prepare your bed clothes."
She... didn't believe me. Aren't she suspicious of me earlier after we climbed down that flying carriage? Why is the sudden change of her attitude? I don't know if I should stay up all night thinking how to trick these people claiming that I am the Goddess of War or to find a way towards that dark room and curse towards that woman who stated that I have a mission to do.
I never even accepted the mission. I should just ask her to bring me back to where my life is.
I was left alone after quite an hour. The night has fell, and everything... was silent. I was lying down in a sanctum of ethereal design. It was woven with threads of power and tranquility. The frame was dark, carved with intricate symbols seen in the faint light, as though the very essence of ancient battles and forgotten legends were embedded.
Whenever I touched the wood as I shifted, it seemed to vibrate. There was a presence of divine recognition within this bed.
The headboard towered high. It was adorned with crescent moons, abstract representations, and stars—what a celestial motifs. It was so dynamic that I was curious who designed this. Whenever I had a subtle gaze towards that, the figures seemed to move in flickering light.
The mattress was firm and plush. It felt like hanging in the starlight itself. It adapted my form perfectly. It was the matching and adoring body contour that fits me well. The bed seemed to cradle and it was comforting. The fabric of the bed's coverings was a shimmering blend of deep crimson and silver. It must be representing both the blood of war and the peace I brought... as they stated, I am the Goddess of War.
But with all those adoration and luxury, I had one statement in mind. One goal.
I felt like I needed to get out of here. I had to find a way to have an exit. No one can tell me that I should stay here.
"I need to get out of this place tomorrow," I whispered underneath the celestial imagination of stars in the Goddess of War's bed.