Hello everyone! I have been formulating some new blog posts for you based on some research I'm doing for my classes this fall, but they won't be ready for some weeks yet. For the time being, here is a short story I wrote for my Creative Writing class last semester (Spring 2017). I am extremely proud of it, and it got me a 4.0 in that class, so I thought it might be fun to share it with you all. If any of you are familiar with the story I was working on several years ago, Evils of the Night, this is a bit of a prologue for the second book in that series, Fire in the Storm. Enjoy!
The kingdom of
Vereturnum—the land of eternal spring—had known peace and prosperity for many
ages. It was the home of two major races of fair people: Elves—down-to-earth people who valued duty
and obligation and responsibility. Fairies—head-in-the-clouds
people who loved dancing and merriment more than anything, and whose presence
comprised most of the social class. To the
human eye—if they could be seen—they would be no more than six inches tall,
with skin and hair colors of all shades and hues. They had been ruled by great kings and
queens that were loved by all the fair races that inhabited the land. But over their kings and queens ruled the
moon. Their moon is not like that which
orbits the Earth. Their moon is sentient
and communicates with them through the elves that came to be known as “The
Moon’s Elves”. These elves were gifted
with prophecy and were trained in the ancient languages in which the moon
communicated. Along with their deep
respect for the moon’s authority, the elves and fairies also lived mostly by
tradition. The elves had many rituals
and many sacred traditions that went along with choosing an heir to the throne
in the even that their king and queen should be killed or decide to step down. Xenia and her twin sister Stella were the
daughters of the current King and Queen, Sebastian and Isabella, and on their
18th birthday, the moon had chosen Stella to be queen.
Xenia
was not a jealous or spiteful person by nature. She was quiet and studious, and had been
preparing to be queen since she was ten years old. But after the ceremony, she became convinced
that someone had managed to interfere with the ceremony and not only had she
not had a fair chance, she was now weak and nearly powerless. She was the most talented pyrokinetic of that
age, and after the incident at the choosing, she was barely able to light the
lamps in her room. Pyrokinesis was a
rare power to create and control fire, and her talent was known throughout the
kingdom.
Stella
was not the kind of elf that many would have even considered a good choice for
a queen. She lived in a world of parties
and socialization. Her bright blue eyes
were always glinting with merriment and she had a habit of twirling her dark
curls around a finger when she spoke about anything to do with
socializing—especially handsome Captains in her father’s army. She hated when her father asked her to be
present for meetings with embassies and important military personnel. She only cared about her friends, social
life, fashion, and gossip. Xenia, on the
other hand, was quiet and studious. Her appearance was the same as her
sister’s, but some might say she was the more beautiful twin. She wore her hair modestly, and her very
presence exuded knowledge and commanded respect. She had learned three languages by the time
she was seventeen, and she had out-performed all her tutors who tried to teach
her how to use her pyrokinesis. She
attended every meeting and she formed relationships with every one of her
father’s allies and made connections with every ambassador who came to their
palace. The kingdom loved her, and she
was the popular choice for queen.
When
the word got out that the moon had chosen Stella to be queen, the people were
shocked. Some were outraged. But
eventually people grew to accept it and they turned their backs on Xenia. Xenia tried to explain to the elven council—a
group of elders and gifted Moon Elves—that something was wrong and that someone
had interfered, even demonstrating that she was no longer able to use her
powers. But the council refused to
listen.
“You
dare question the moon and its infinite wisdom?” boomed the chief elder. “You are jealous, bitter, and deranged! Let us hear no more of this nonsense! Guards!
Take her away.”
Xenia
was relegated to living in her sister’s ever-growing shadow. Soon she became obsolete. No one cared about her. No one, that is,
until her meeting with the council was leaked.
The rumors spread like wildfire.
She couldn’t even leave the palace grounds without hearing people
gossiping about her. She was devastated
that the people who once loved her would turn on her so quickly. At first, she cried herself to sleep at
night, only to wake the next morning to try and redeem her reputation by going
into the village to help the less fortunate, visit the sick, and bring flowers
to the graves of those elves whose graves were forgotten. On one such
excursion, she overheard a conversation that sent her hurrying back to the
palace.
“You
heard about that Xenia complaining to the council? Unbelievable!” said one portly fairy selling flowers to
another.
“I
heard she was screaming and all in a rage.
Tried to throw fire at all the elders.” The other fairy replied.
“No! She wouldn’t!” gasped the first.
“Oh
yes. I heard she became a right
monster.”
“And
to think we all wanted her to be our queen!” another elf chimed into the
conversation. “It’s a good thing the
moon—its wisdom reign supreme forever—saw through her and into her dark
soul. We have been saved a lot of
trouble in our future!”
“Right
you are! She would have been a menace on
the throne. Peace would be over and we
would be constantly at war!”
Xenia
never went into the village again. But
the stories didn’t stop. The palace staff
heard the stories and whispered them to each other. Stories that grew increasingly worse and made
Xenia out to be more and more violent and deranged with each retelling. Soon she began to wonder if that was really
what they thought of her—if that was really who she was underneath all her
attempts to be kind, gentle, and wise.
Weakened
and made the laughing stock of the entire realm, Xenia retreated even further. She
refused to leave her room, writing incessantly in journals no one could ever
find. This, of course, fueled more
rumors about how she was losing her mind.
Only Terrance, the forgotten youngest child, understood what Xenia
felt.
“I’ve
never been anybody, Xeni.”
“I
know. You’re a useless twit just like
me. The only difference is that no one
cares what you say or do. No one tells
stories about you. No one thinks you’re
a demon caged in a young elf’s body. You
didn’t see how mother looked at me when I told her I thought something had been
wrong. She looked at me as though I was
completely mad and said ‘Xenia there is always a reason for the Moon’s
decisions. Do not assume to be wiser
than the Moon.’ And father won’t even look me in the eyes, as though he’s
afraid if he does I’ll beg him to fix this for me.”
“Whatever
you want to do about it, Xeni, I’m with you.”
Finally,
all the hurt caught up to Xenia and she snapped. “I want to burn them all. Burn their lying tongues, their mocking eyes,
and their shaking fingers. I want to
watch this village burn.” Her voice trembled with hurt and burning tears slid
down her face.
Terrance’s
eyes began to glow as though Xenia had ignited a fire in his irises. “Whatever you want, Xeni.”
Xenia
and Terrance swore an oath of alliance under the full moon that night, and the
first shadow warrior was born. Shadow
warriors were born from the darkness that festered inside Xenia. They were the manifestation of the hurt,
anger, shame, and embarrassment she had endured the last year. And with the birth of each warrior, her power
began to return. Soon she was able to
create small balls of fire that could not be quenched. She channeled all of her anger into these
balls, and they became the birthplace of her army. Terrance found a large cave on the outskirts
of the district they could house the warriors in, and Xenia began to find
weapons for them.
“I
want no chance that any victim will survive,” she ordered.
“Yes,
your majesty,” Grunted a warrior, gliding away with a new weapon in his
silt-like hands.
The
shadow warriors were not corporeal beings.
They had the appearance of an apparition, but a more grainy, sandy
composition. Xenia clothed them in black
cloaks. Their weaknesses were only water
and being sliced completely in half. She
created a new type of weapon for them:
hell-fire blades. These swords
were bathed in green fire, and one small prick with these blades killed its
victim instantly. Xenia created them
with Terrance’s help. His previous
talents at making things grow and knowing how to cook them had turned dark, and
he developed a poison that Xenia turned into the green flames.
Xenia
even began calling herself by a different name: Ivory Delacroix. This was the name she taught the warriors to
call her so that if any of them were found they would not be able to expose her. She was planning an attack on the city, and
they were almost ready. She knew she was
not strong enough to ignite the entire city with a wave of her hand. So, she sent the warriors into the city and
had them begin placing fuel and explosives at numerous and hidden
locations.
“When
do we launch the attack, your majesty?”
“Tomorrow
there is a festival. You three will lurk
as inconspicuously as possible outside the gates of the palace. When Terrance walks out, follow him. He will take you to the rendezvous
point. I have warriors stationed at
various locations around the city. Once
the flames are lit, the army will definitely come out to try and take out the
threat. Fight your own way out. Terrance and I will be too busy escaping to
worry about you. Get back to this cave
as quickly as you can. Kill whoever tries to stop you. This is the beginning of war.”
“Yes,
your majesty.”
The
morning dawned with a brilliant red sunrise.
Xenia smiled at the irony. “Red in
the morning, sailor take warning.” She had learned the phrase from one of her
father’s captains on the human planet when she was 15. “The fires will burn as red as the
sunrise.”
The
people were celebrating in the city before the royal family had even finished
breakfast.
“Well,
Isabella, I think we should go down to the square and speak to our people!” King
Sebastian boomed merrily to his wife.
“I’ll
order the carriage right now.” Isabella stood up and smoothed her brightly
colored dress. “Xenia, dear, can’t you
wear something other than black today?
It’s the summer solstice for goodness sakes!”
“Why
should I wear any other color when I must go out and face the ridicule of a
nation?”
Isabella
couldn’t respond, so she bustled away quickly.
Sebastian followed her.
“Don’t
ruin the people’s holiday with your sour moods, sister.” Stella frowned on her
like she was a disobedient child. “It
wouldn’t be fair to them.”
“Yes,
how could I be so selfish? They have
been nothing but kind, understanding, and fair
in their treatment of me. Please, tell
me more about how I may brighten their festivities.” Xenia’s glare was so
menacing and her tone so dark, that Stella turned bright pink and hurried away
after her parents.
The
villagers cheered as their King spoke to them, his booming voice spreading more
merriment over the crowd that had gathered to hear him speak. Xenia caught sight of her warrior chief
lurking near the point she had designated to be the trigger for the fires. Her father finished his speech, and just
before the dancing and music and singing continued, she raised her voice to
address them all.
“My
dear people!” she cried, ignoring the
sudden drop in volume and the murmurs that had taken the place of the laughter,
“I have been told on several occasions not to spoil your holiday with my
gloom. But I can no longer remain
silent! You have treated me as a
lunatic. A deranged, demon-possessed
monster who you were fortunate enough to have removed from your leadership!”
“Xenia,
please, enough!” Sebastian tried to pull her down from the cart onto which she
had climbed.
“No!”
she shouted, “No! I will not take this
unjust, demeaning attitude for one more minute.
I have endured your abuse and your scorn for a full year! I have hoped and prayed every night that the
truth would be made known to all of you!
But still you continue to wag your lying tongues and spread more rumors
and lies about the elf you would have called queen if we had no traditions or
ceremonies. And so I intend to punish
you. Your misery shall be my delight,
just as my suffering has given you so much to laugh about. You deserve what you get!”
She
threw her hand toward the target her warrior was guarding. A fireball exploded from her and hit the pile
of hay stacked near a bungalow. The
haystack burned for a moment, allowing people to begin to snicker at her failed
attempt before an explosion rocked the ground.
A panic broke out and fire began to lick at the buildings up and down
the street. Xenia threw a few more
fireballs and more explosions followed.
Her
warriors around the city began lighting more fires and more explosions and
screaming filled the air. Xenia and
Terrance ran, using the panic as their cover.
They dodged through the crowds of brightly dressed elves and fairies
toward the castle wall. They joined the
mass that was trying to escape across the drawbridges, but as soon as they
reached the road on the other side, Xenia evaporated them. They reappeared in the safety of the forest
outside the castle walls, where they sat until dark, watching the city
burn.
“You
are amazing.” Terrance said, his eyes taking in the burning outline of the city
in the growing darkness.
“Remember
that if you ever feel the need to cross me.” Xenia said coldly.
“Noted.”
Two
days later, Xenia stood at the back of a graveside service, her face covered in
a veil. She was watching the grieving
elves and fairies slowly drift away. A
large tomb stood solemnly at the front of the group. She waited until only two elves were
left. One was a moon elf, reciting
enchantments over the tomb. The other
was Stella. Xenia lifted her veil and
moved to where her sister could easily see her.
Stella
turned away from the tomb and saw Xenia.
Her eyes narrowed.
“It’s
too bad, isn’t it,” Xenia said with icy cruelty.
“This
is your fault!” Stella shrieked, lunging at her sister. The moon elf stopped reciting and grabbed
Stella, restraining her. “You cannot
accept your place!”
“No!”
Xenia roared. “You took the place that should
have been rightfully mine! I am the
eldest!”
“But
I was chosen! And you start a war? You kill
your own parents!?”
“They
were nothing to me. They did nothing to
stop the rumors spread about me. They
did nothing to ease my pain. They didn’t care about me. They are nothing.” she turned away. “You
are nothing to me.”
“Xenia!”
Xenia
stopped. “I no longer answer to that
name. My name is now Ivory
Delacroix. Call me by that name,” she
paused and looked back over her shoulder at Stella, “or not at all.” And she
vanished in a swirl of black and white sand.
She
reappeared in the cave where Terrance was waiting for her.
“Well?”
“They’re
gone. Our parents are dead.”
Terrance
shrugged. “They never cared about us,
Xeni.”
“Get
out.”
“What?”
“I
said get out!” Xenia formed a
fireball on her hand. Terrance held up
his hands and left the room.
For
a moment, Xenia allowed the remaining anger and hurt flow through her. She sent fire roaring around the cavernous
room, screaming as loud as she could until her throat clenched and went
dry. She drew her sword and hacked at a
stalagmite until her blade snapped in half.
Then the anger was gone and her chest filled with emptiness.
Xenia fell onto
the floor and wept. Her parents were
dead. They had died in the fire that she
had created. Her mother had once said
she was proud of how Xenia had refined and perfected her power beyond any
master living. And Xenia had used that
very power to kill her. Her father had
once said that her ability to give a stirring speech was the most impressive he
had ever seen. And that speech had been
the last he’d ever hear—his own daughter telling him that she was going to make
him suffer. And that she would enjoy
every moment of it.
She
had won. She had her revenge on those
who scorned her. But she had paid a
price for it that she would never be able to repay.
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