1.5 Dream

5 1 0
                                    




1.5 - Dream

I dream of blurry figures out in the distance. I can't decipher who they are, but there are two. They sway to an undetectable symphony. I feel the warmth ooze from them, rolling towards me in waves. It makes me nauseous. I have never experienced that warmth, that love in the twenty-five years I have breathed. I could walk to them; rip them apart, demand to now who they are and why they taunt me with unreachable notions. I could demand to know why they mock me, dangle this life in front of me just to tear it away. But I do not. I simply watch them from my spot in the woods, I am surrounded by thorns. They look deadly. Would they hurt me if I dared disturb them?

A laugh reaches my ears. It is not one of those laughs I hear in court. Those laughs are preformed in front of mirrors and wells and lakes, perfected- not too loud and not too pitchy. This one is loud and, for court, inappropriate to come from a lady. This laugh is laced with the happiness of a drunk, and I wanted to experience it. I envy the shadow that is in front of her, I would die to hear it in its full glory. My lips form a smile and my hand, unbeknownst to me, reaches towards the figures. I take a step.

My eyes open at the sound of my chamber doors opening. I sit up and face the ladies in waiting. Some come towards me, some dip to the washing room to begin my bath, and some organize breakfast. I get out of my bed, aching to slip in it and dream of them again. My maids begin undressing me, I could do this all on my own, but what is a princess if not spoiled. I walk towards the cool bath, I go under and my body feels at home. My senses are sharp underwater, it's easier to breathe too. My people weren't made to be on land for long periods of time. The contaminated waters, however, were making us sick.

It was a slow an painful death, too. When The Plague started, over sixty years ago, no one knew what was going on. The waters were clear, but sirens kept getting sick. The records show drawings of the sick sirens. Their skin started by turning a sickly green color then their scales would turn black and fall off. The salt in the water made them burn faster, they would trow up and finally their gills would close up. They would stop breathing and die, slowly. When my father, King Asmodeous, started to sense the toxins in the water, he went straight to the source. The Fae, those who loves the Earth also harmed it. The only option was to attack.

Before the war, sirens were allowed to step on earth in the darkness of it's caves, being able to only survive a couple of days without the waters of our home. They say my mother made a deal with Dracon, the God of the High Fae, what she traded is unknown. What could a God of Soil want with creatures of the deep? Something valuable, maybe even a siren sacrifice, but there are no records of a trade or even a contract. Would a God even need a contract with a mortal? They say my mother was a bubbly creature; her and my father used to be in love and he was kind. It seems like such a distant past, not something that used to be true less than 30 years ago.

My mother is now a breeding mare; my father a cold ruler. I am the youngest of my brethren. I was born twenty-five years ago; under a full moon with the goddess illuminating my mother. I have six brothers: Delmar, Havelock, Iedon, Varun, Maren , Caspian. Each of us are five years apart. For twenty five years my father has not touched my mother; not even in a caring way. He has sent her to the other side of the castle as he can not stand to look at her. I can hear her wailing some nights. She dawns a white vail and walks the castle walls as if she is a ghost. I know it is to mourn for her old self and her first love.

As I finish getting dressed, I send away my maids. I ignore them as they curtsy and vanish behind the doors. I can't bear to look at them. Nymphs who were unlucky enough to be my ladies in waiting. King Asmodeusu cut off their tongue and had their mouth sown shut. I can only imagine the fear and hatred they have towards me and my father. Other maids aren't punished before waiting on someone. My mother's maids are more like family than staff. My brother's have little use for their maids, saying only women need servants.

But I was a secret; I am the unseen one. The mystery whose face is unknown. She roams the royal territories searching for the Fae, killing those unwilling to share information with the crown. I dawn my white cloak; it was stitched with a fine gold thread. Sirens prefer silver as it weakens the Fae, but to establish authority over the lands, we switched our colors to blue and golden. I step outside the night chill hitting my face, I glance at the moon before putting on my mask. It was terrifyingly beautiful. A blue so deep it resembles the oceans deep, gold stitching around to shapen and red droplets to mimic blood.

I continue walking deep into the woods. I reach a pool of liquid silver. I plunge deep without holding my breath.

As Above, So Below (wlw)Where stories live. Discover now