Hubris (Book One of the Siren Tragedies)

Alexandros

Chapter 3: Alexandros

Far away from the existence of humanity, there was a large tower that extended all the way into the Light World and plunged deep into the Dark World. It resided in the cosmos, where its occupants could see all of humanity but still keep an eye on what was going on up in the Light World or below, in the Dark World. Large and bright, it was truly a breathtaking ivory tower. Inside, its winding stairs (which were rarely used unless someone needed to kill time before meetings) connected to lavish, gilded meeting rooms with bright tapestries and boldly colored drapes. The topmost section of the tower was the home of Alexandros, the head of the Sirens. Even his daughters weren't allowed to enter this area. Instead, any business that they wished to take up with their father was conducted in one of the many meeting rooms, the largest of which was the Opal Room. Named after its shimmering mantles and hearths, it was decorated in deep blue accents with lecture hall seating, as opposed to all of the other rooms, which had a more traditional boardroom style.

It was in this room that they met to determine the fate of all humanity.

As Telese walked into the room with Morgan, she tried to steady her heart. Perhaps her father would let the Diplomats speak. Perhaps he would listen to her pleas and consider them. This, however, would only happen if he was feeling generous. Very generous. Alexandros was not known for his interest in democracy. If he wanted something to happen, it would happen.

Telese greeted a few of her sisters as she felt Morgan grab her hand and squeeze for a moment. The older Siren walked off to join the other Warriors, and Telese found a seat in the front and middle of the room—the spot reserved for the Lead Diplomat. Next to her, her sister, Layla, took her seat as the Lead Healer.

Layla was bound to Palestine, just as Telese was bound to America and Morgan was bound to Ireland. She had a dark olive complexion, with long, black hair tied tightly against her head and covered with a hijab. Her round, brown eyes often portrayed her kind, compassionate nature. She loved the color blue, and her clothes—usually tunics, or long, flowing shirts —were various shades of navy, teal, seafoam, or indigo. She was soft spoken as a rule, but in times of conflict, she could be one of the fiercest adversaries against which anybody could be pitted.

"I don't feel right about this, Telese," she said in her Levantine accent, looking down at some paperwork. "You know, illness and malnutrition are up 45 percent since the '60s, even though income has increased even more."

"I know," Telese said, not making eye contact with her sister. "The resources aren't getting to the rest of the population. It looks like a handful of people are hoarding them."

"It's those ruddy Minions and their pacts," a voice said next to her in an accent that had both the flow of what one thought of Australians' accents and the sharp pronunciations familiar to the indigenous people of the island. She turned to see Roxias, the Lead Warrior, slam her paperwork and her heavy, gold-handled blade in front of her. Although thin and short, Roxy was well known for her loud and ostentatious personality. She had very dark skin such as that of the aboriginal peoples of Australia, which she respected and admired for their strength and integrity in the face of colonization-related oppression. She had curly black hair and brown eyes and was usually dressed in red and black.

"Roxy, why do you insist on carrying your weapon everywhere?" Telese asked, eyeing the Siren blade nervously.

"Oh, yeah, lot of good it is for you to be afraid, Nikki," Roxy said, sitting down. She had not called Telese by her name since Niccolo Machiavelli wrote The Prince, which Roxy felt had been written about all of Telese's political methods and ideologies. "It's not like it's Father's blade or anything. It can't kill you."