"I saw what happened. We could see the stormy clouds drop and blow towards us," Master Joras said as Gris and his group swarmed into the infirmary two hours later.
They placed Mageia in a private room, rather than one on the main floor, and carefully placed her in a bed. Two nurses got to work on cleaning and dressing her, their hands trembling and eyes filled with mixed emotions. One of them drew a curtain for privacy.
"Was the sacrifice successful, or did this happen before it?"
"It happened after she took her last breath," Gris said. "The earth quaked...."
"We felt it too, almost like a calm shiver," Joras' voice was deep with awe and excitement. "And the sky. It's still purple. What does this mean?"
Gris began pacing. "My suspicions and theories were right, Joras. She's a Fairest."
Master Joras fell speechless and rubbed his bald, shiny head. Lord Hercones entered with Ser Conner.
"Your Highness," Ser Conner greeted. "My temple soldiers will guard Mageia night and day until the gods speak otherwise."
"Thank you."
Lady Liana entered the room, flustered. "Your Highness, people are gathering in the infirmary. Word is spreading about her quickly."
Ser Conner placed a hand on his hilt. "Worry not, Your Highness, Anointed One. I will handle this." And the knight exited with Liana on his trail.
As they exited, Rasheem entered with a radiant smile on his face. Gris gasped in pure shock.
"Rasheem! You're up?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Master Joras boasted.
"Something happened," Rasheem cheered as they embraced. "I feel great."
"I don't understand ..." Gris took in the bright and healthy look in his friend's eyes.
"When that cloud came down and nearly blew us off the roof," Master Joras began, "we came to check on everyone, and gods be good, he was healed. Head to foot."
Rasheem looked as if a whip had never touched him. His color had returned to his skin, the spark back in his eyes.
"Gods be good," Gris managed to say and hugged his friend with gratefulness.
"May the gods forgive us if we've done anything wrong this night," Lord Hercones prayed in a troubled tone, dampening the moment. He stared at the curtain with his hands fumbling with the hem of his ceremonial robe.
"It all makes sense now," Gris said. "I thought Mageia needed to connect with her magic, most likely dormant her entire life, until tonight. I believe this had to happen, Lord Hercones. She had to die in order to be reborn."
"Reborn into her magic and her power." the High Priest nodded.
"So, is that really Mageia?" Rasheem asked.
"Yes. She died horrifically along with the other Sacreds, but she was the only one who was resurrected," Gris stated. "She is not only human, but she's also part god."
His words brought them to silence as they processed this revelation.
"I would like to examine her," The Master Fisican voiced, the first to break the silence.
Gris scoffed. This man shouldn't be in the room. "Not until I do so first."
"I don't think the Diviines would be pleased if you two start poking at her," Rasheem said with a disapproving frown.
The nurses drew back the curtain, and they held their breath. The women scurried from the room. Gris approached the side of Mageia's bed and peered at her face. She looked so peaceful. Master Joras stood on the other side, staring at the small glowing marks in the palms of her hands.
"Maurice!" Lord Hercones yelled at the door.
"I'm right here." He appeared from a dark corner in the room, almost startling the old man.
"Oh, good. Good," Lord Hercones said. "Rasheem, close the door, please."
Rasheem nodded and moved to the door, only for royal escorts to flood the hallway.
"Halt, in the name of the Diviines!" Ser Conner bellowed.
"I am your king. I can go wherever I please."
"Allow him to pass," Lord Hercones said, but Maurice had already delivered the message.
Gris did not know that the Chief Knight of the Priesthood held power over the king. This amused him greatly until his father appeared in the doorway, disgruntled. He did a double take at Rasheem, questions crawling over his face.
"I've been healed tonight by a special young lady," Rasheem gloated with a sneering smirk.
King Dimitri didn't know what to say. He entered and scanned everyone in the room, ending on the glowing girl in bed. Rasheem closed the door and stood annoyingly in the corner.
"Has she woken?" the king asked.
"No. We were about to examine her," Lord Hercones said, replacing Master Joras' position.
"How do you two know for sure that she is the Fairest of Ardania?"
"No, she is the Fairest of the Realm of Valeera," Gris corrected.
"But how do you know?" His father approached the foot of the bed.
Gris growled. He had to explain everything to people who knew the truth but had chosen to bury it and forget it.
"From my studies, I've learned there are two known identifiers of a Fairest," he started. "The first is the color purple, like the ancient amethyst stone once formed in Fairlaana, the Holy Lands. The first five Fairests mentioned in the Book of Legends: Gilondale and Alalia Lariius, Brendale Lariius, Amar the Fierce, and Thuriend Lariius, were described to have had features such as purple eyes or purple hair. According to my history research and confirmations from outside sources, Aurio, Alsindad, and Tiivon Lariius also had purple eyes.
The second identifier was the day they were born. The first day of the first month of a new Era. That's every hundredth year. When I spoke to Mageia, I gathered that she was born the first day of Era 1000, the same day the supposed last Fair Tree died. She refused to confirm it, but I could sense I was correct. And I've also learned that she had to awake her powers on her own, but in this case, it did so by our own ignorance."
Silence followed his explanation, and Gris waited for a flood of questions. Even he now doubted the fact about the last Fair Tree, having heard Tiivon's new proposition for Mageia. However, when he glanced at everyone around the room, they were staring at him in pure astonishment.
"What? I speak the truth."
"Gris," his father said, almost out of breath. "Your stutter ... it's gone."
His hand flew to his lips and his throat. He remembered the burning sensation when the clouds fell on the earth, knocking bb him off his feet. Not only did Mageia's rebirth heal Rasheem of his wounds, but she corrected his stuttering problem, which he had since the day he learned to speak.
Lord Hercones laughed. "It must've been something man could not fix."
"Gods be good," Rasheem smiled.
Amazed, Gris wiggled and folded his tongue, once too stiff to even flex enough to pronounce the simplest words. When everyone finished their side conversations and praises to the gods, Master Joras returned them to the topic at hand with another curious question.
"So, this Book of Legends you speak of, Your Highness, is it not forbidden to speak of and to study? How were you able to get your hands on a copy?"
"I borrowed it from the priest's library, stored away and untouched for possibly eras," Gris answered. "Kings of Ardania and many other kingdoms refuse to teach from the Book of Legends because it places Fairests above Royals. They're considered as demi-gods and High Seers who are very important in keeping the balance of magic and order throughout the realm and the Serene. So, over the years, Ardanian historians and priests rewrote history and belief into the book we teach from. The Book of Legends is considered the real Sacred Book."
"So, our Sacred Book is false?" Master Joras asked.
"I wouldn't say false," Gris said. "Perhaps misled interpretations about the Vanished King's Fair Prophecy. Everything had either been made up or twisted to ensure the enforcement of the Fair Laws. Claiming it to be a divine connection with the gods."
"What about our human sacrifices?" Master Joras wondered. "Were not they true and accepted by the gods?"
"Possibly. Especially during the early days around the Sacrifice of the Old God Hamino. But from my studies, fire and cruelty were never used, only a sweet poison that puts their sacrifices to sleep. Later, human sacrifice reappeared and disappeared in various ways until Ardania took Tiivon Lariius' prophecy to heart. We're the only kingdom as I know of that still does human sacrifices."
After a short moment of silence, Lord Hercones chimed in. "It was known, Prince Grisonce, whenever a soul was sacrificed to the honor and pleasure of the gods, a good thing always happened. History always stirred in the desired direction."
"True," Gris agreed. "But we've lost the true spirit and purpose of human sacrifice and have replaced it with filling the pockets of nobles, enhancing order out of fear, and silencing one's enemies. Above all, the human had to volunteer to be sacrificed and not forced."
"Well. Let us hope the gods will forgive us for what we've done and allow us to correct what is wrong," Lord Hercones sighed.
I don't think the gods care, Gris wanted to say, and remembered he had to keep his vision to himself.
"And what about the markings on her hands, Anointed One?" Lord Maurice inquired to the High Priest. "I've seen similar ones, but none like this in any of our studies."
"Nor have I, and I've studied under the Priesthood since my teen years," Lord Hercones added, then grew serious. "This brings me to wonder if she has the mark."
"The mark?" Gris asked.
The High Priest and the king exchanged a very dark expression. "Let's turn her to the side, please," Lord Hercones instructed.
With the hesitant help of Master Joras and Lord Maurice, Gris helped them turn Mageia to her side and revealed the same mark on the back of her neck that looked more like a brand by a hot iron.
"Great gods," Lord Hercones gulped, fear claiming his face. He glanced at the king, whose shoulders tensed in response.
"This hexagon has a diamond in the center of it," Gris pointed out. "It looks like a branding."
"It's not a branding. It's a mark. A holy, sacred, anointed mark," the king said.
"Put her down," Lord Hercones demanded. They properly put her back and tucked her into the blankets.
"It's a birthmark passed down only by the males of the Lariius bloodline," the king said. "My mother, Lania Lariius, and her sister, Liana, possessed that mark, but because my father was an Arlon, I did not receive the mark."
I am a Komali ... Gris thought. He never pondered his mother's maiden name before.
"You should be happy for it, Your Majesty," Master Joras said. "You would not be alive if so."
"Master Joras is right," Lord Hercones said, giving Gris the terrified look he had during their conversation at the Royal Temple. "What was said here cannot leave this room. If the Golden King hears she is his kin, everyone in Ardania will be in danger."
The shiver could be felt going through everyone.
"So it's possible she could be from the line of King Wintre Lariius?" Gris whispered, recalling the late king of Gorana's reputation of being a womanizer.
"Yes," the king injected. "My aunt, Liana Lariius, married a Halan and never had any children. My older brothers, Darius and Damien, died before having any."
Gris frowned at the unfortunate reality of having no cousins or siblings, save for his annoying step siblings.
The king continued. "Unless Vontre had any children from affairs, or possibly distant cousins spread about the realm, this young lady may be from the line of King Wintre."
"So, it's possible the Golden King must've missed someone in the Gold Madness," Lord Maurice said in deep wonder.
Gris swallowed hard, hoping that was not the case. The present king of Gorana was an Ersan-Soother who one day used his sooth to kill every Royal, including his father Wintre, to claim the throne.
"I have a slight suspicion of exactly who," the king muttered. Everyone stared at him, waiting for him to disclose a name, but when he didn't, Rasheem chimed in.
"Would this give the Golden King a reason to break the Northern Alliance he formed with King Thaddeus?"
"We will not ponder this any longer," King Dimitri declared. His father's skin paled as he clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. "What happened tonight, in no doubt, was seen for miles. Everyone will be questioning it. I will meet with my scribery and send word to every official in the kingdom to keep the peace. I will have a king's summons as soon as possible this week. Gris, I would like you to be there to give your theory and anything you deem necessary. Hopefully, Mageia will be awake and join us."
Gris didn't feel any joy at this. Just hours ago, everyone, especially his own father, was dousing him with scorn and rejection. And now that he had all the answers and a friendly relationship with the Fairest, he was needed. Perhaps later, he may feel relieved and happy to be wanted for once. And to make matters worse, who knew how Mageia would react to the attention once she awakened.
"Okay. But I will need my notes and everything in my study to prepare."
"Then I shall release the ban. Immediately," the king said with a grim frown.
Lord Hercones cleared his throat. "Grisonce, I would like to have that book returned. The Priesthood has some reading to do."
"Very well," Gris complied, then glanced at Rasheem. "I best see to the house and make sure my workers are okay."
The door opened suddenly, without a knock, and Ser Garret and Ser Conner entered, faces disgruntled.
"What's wrong?" the king asked.
"Carriers are flying in left to right, Your Highness," Ser Garret said. "People are worried and confused."
"We figured," King Dimitri replied.
"Yes, but reports are also arriving about riots brewing over the kingdom. Most in the Runes and leading out of Strana up the King's Road."
"Blessed be. The chaos has been unmasked," Lord Hercones muttered, pressing a weary hand to his heart, eyes staring at the sleeping Fairest.
A/N
Wow if only they allowed Gris to give his proof before she died. Ugh Fair people... smh.
Will Mageia ever wake up?
Thank you for reading! I hope you are enjoying this fantasy.
-LeQuita