10. T H E E M P R E S S
"Conjure it for me." The Empress commanded.
The Shaman had been taken to an empty room, The Empress had named, her sanctuary of solitude. All she ever did in here was pace endlessly in her paranoia, for hours at a time.
The room was large, and devoid of furniture. The only sight to see, was of the scenery the six adjacent windows provided. They spanned from floor to ceiling, allowed the otherworldly glow of blue to flood the barren room. The Empress, had enchanted the windows to reflect the Milky Way.
A belt of asteroids roved by slowly, their departure allowed stars to gleam in vibrant shades of purple and green. A bright circular orb of blue energy gleamed in the centre of the Milky Way, smoky and transcendent. If you stared out of the window long enough, you'd be under the illusion that the room was moving, slowly but surely.
"I cannot. I cannot create the vision of your future as I did last year." The Shaman replied, as he watched The Empress. She was leaning against the corner of a wall, with her her back to him, staring out the window.
"Why can you not?" She questioned, as her eyes found a familiar star. She had named it a decade ago, but, it felt more like a lifetime. Silently, her lips mouthed the name, Amia. Something forgotten throbbed in her chest, before it was expelled by the all to familiar feeling of desolation.
The Empress turned from the window, and looked at the Shaman. He had sat down in the middle of the room. His short legs crossed underneath him.
He was dressed in ordinary cotton clothes. She had always wondered why such a powerful creature would dress in such cheap cloth. He was nearly balding, but his white beard remained thick and vast. The Empress was sure the man hadn't had a decent meal in months, and he probably didn't have a bed to rest on either. He could afford all these luxuries, so why did he opt to live like a nomadic beggar?
"It seems that the Fates, are continuously re-writing your future. If we were to look at it now, all we would see is a fog of smoke, nothing more."
"So, there's hope after all?" The Empress asked. She had not changed from her blood ridden armour. Her horned headpiece looked ominous in the lowlight of the room. But, the Shaman was not afraid of her.
While he did not fear her, he did choose his next words carefully. Well, he tried his best. "No," his voice trailed off, "From what I've been allowed to see, you die in all of the futures. It's the events leading up to your Death that are riddled in obscurity."
"Marvellous," she quipped sarcastically. "Killed by the warrior girl, I presume. How is this possible? I thought I got rid of her after I made the expedition to St Mary's Island. I buried her in the labyrinth with my own hands, I made sure she would never awaken."
"Why did you not just kill her, when you found her?" The Shaman asked with such a blunt tone, it bristled her.
"When I found her, she was just a child." The Empress' brows came together as she remembered the day. She looked at her reflection in the shiny marble floor, and recounted how she had come across Mira.
The Shaman's face displayed the shock he felt, "so you have a soft spot for the youth."
The Empress ripped her gaze from the floor to the old man.
"No Shaman, I do not. Had you seen my display earlier, you would have known this to be true. In this world, war and greed do not overlook anyone not even children." The Empress turned to face the orbital windows. "I didn't kill her because that would have implied I feared her, and I do not fear anyone. Instead I gave her a beautiful burial, trapped her soul and body. I was sure she would not awaken, but now that she has I will be prepared. She brings me entertainment, and I will play her like a game."
The Shaman became lost in his own thoughts, remembering how crazed The Empress had become. She had not rested until she had trapped the young warrior's soul in the Void. "Clearly, there are things that we cannot stop from happening. Try as we might, the tides have changed and they are not in your favour."
The Empress brought a hand to her forehead and tried to rub her agitation away. "I'll fight Destiny, if I must. If Death, does come for me, I'll make sure I don't go down alone." Her words rang with a promise.
"Meaning?" The Shaman asked.
The Empress chuckled, "I'm sure you of all people can guess," she folded her arms over her chest, "If I die I'll take as many lives as I can with me." She shook her head, "But I don't think it will come to that," she began to pace. "I don't think it will come to my Death."
The old man tilted his head in wonder, "How can be so sure?"
"There are rebels and traitors running amuck in my kingdom." Her eyes glazed over in thought, she spoke still. "I've got a few tricks up my own sleeve." A smile tugged the corners of her lips. "Spies, they've infiltrated the Rebellion. I know I can trust their information, because they owe me their lives. I've got something they're after, and if I were gone, they'd be never be able to obtain it."
The Shaman wondered why she was telling him such valuable information. "Have you told anyone else of this?" He asked in wonder.
The Empress was broken out of her thoughts, and her smile grew. "No, you're the first one."
"Why is that, why have you told me?" He asked.
The Empress walked to him slowly, "Tell me, can you see your future?" Breaching the vicinity of her personal space she brought her face inches from his.
The Shaman's brows went up in awe, no one had ever asked him that. "I cannot," he answered honestly. "Seeing my own future would tamper with the natural course of what must happen. If I were to know what would become of me, that could alter so many other futures. My Destiny, is not to know but to tell."
The Empress mulled over his words with a deep understanding. While her eyes tried to tell if the man were lying or not, when she was satisfied she pulled back.
"Well, I have seen your future, and it is divine." She murmured, letting her arms fall to her sides just as the Shaman rose to his feet, his stature timid.
"What do you mean?" Curiosity coated his words.
He truly had no idea what was to come next.
"Your valuable, not only to me, but to every single being in Paris. I've just told you compromising information that I wouldn't just tell anyone. I need to know what becomes of me, and I can't know that, if your traipsing all over the place." Her brows knotted together, "most importantly, I can't let you tell the Rebels what's in their future. That's my business not theirs."
"You plan to imprison me," it wasn't a question, more of a statement. "I can tell you, your highness that ignorance does not become you. In the grand scheme of things, ignorance can be one's downfall."
"Your right, but I have you and that is why it will never be mine. I'll know every scenario of what's to come next. What to avoid, what to do, I'll know it all.
"I told you, the Fates are re-writing as we speak-"
"So. Let. Them." A dangerous edge consumed her voice. "I'll see what they've drafted for me. Shaman, you should know I write my own future." Her hand lifted up, and she turned her palm to his body. Smoky magic seeped out from her flesh, and when he didn't move she questioned him. "What," she mused "you're not going to try to run?" She arched her brows to the door. "I mean, the door is locked, but still, you're not even going to try?"
The Shaman glanced at the door. While he did possess magic, he knew he was no match for her. It also went against his morals, to use magic as a weapon.
"If it is in my Destiny, to be imprisoned by you, then your highness I cannot run from it. I will face it, head on." He hoped to set an example for her.
She rolled her eyes at him, "Dignified until the very end, I see." She smiled at him once more, "I'm not going to torture you. I just thought you should know that."
The Shaman had no fear in his eyes as the woman wielded her magic. He had assumed she would transport him to the dungeons, but he had been wrong.
It did not hurt when smoke curled around his body in a hue of ivy green. Very soon his aged skin began to bubble, while his head felt faint. The smoke drowned him altogether from view, then he morphed into something else entirely.
"Qu'il soit mon portoloin vers le futur." Her words were melodious like honey.
Smoke encompassed the room so much, that The Empress could not see at all. As her magic took form, the smog began to dissolve into the air.
The Shaman was gone, in his place was a beautiful mirror which reflected The Empress's face.
The ornament was oval in shape, with a lining of magnificent lapis lazuli. It allowed one to see from head to shoulder. She glanced to the window for a second before turning her attention back to the glass.
"Oh, how perfect. You match the scenery quite nicely." The mirror floated up and hung itself on the empty grey wall, on the left side.
She sighed before walking in front of it, slowly the smile she wore melted away. The foreboding sense of Death, felt inevitable, she'd have to work fast.
She brought her hand to the mirror and let it rest there, as she stared into its depths.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall."
The lapis lazuli lining retracted into the oval mirror, the glass became a metallic substance that flooded the wall. She watched as the entire expanse became a silver surface.
She pushed with her hand and felt the mirror sink back under her touch. The Empress walked into the glass, disappearing into the vision she sought.