All The World’s a Stage: Part 4

“All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages.”

William Shakespeare, As You Like It.

Kessy

Of course Kessy knew the story. The High Court—or the Celestial Realm—was a glittering metropolis in the sky, fueled by the tale of its ruthless ruler: how King Olaris believed his wife, Thessaly, and younger brother Austore were plotting against him. How he banished Austore to the ground, or the Lower Court, forbidding him to return. How he threw Thessaly in prison, no matter how many times she told him they would never conspire to take his throne. How he had her killed and never remarried, ruling both the High and Lower Courts with an iron fist.

            Rightfully, Austore should have ruled the Lower Court, as was tradition. Instead Olaris, proclaiming his brother and wife’s supposed treason, usurped Austore’s power and now ruled both realms, locking travel between them with the Medial Court, that swirling mass of stars and nothingness that keeps the sunlight from reaching the Lower Court.

            Now, she listened in horrified silence as Olaris explained her own part in this story. Thessaly, innocent of treason, of course, had given birth in prison. Law and tradition forbade him from executing a pregnant woman, and as soon as Thessaly birthed their daughter, he swept in, ordering her execution. The young princess he also wished to kill, but tradition also forbade the murder of a child. Instead, Olaris bided his time, waiting until the little girl turned eighteen. Kassiopeia was raised in the palace, not quite a noble, not quite a commoner, completely unaware of her lineage.

            “And then she turned eighteen,” Kandor murmured, his voice hushed and horrified. “And you killed her.”

            Olaris huffed. “I tried to. She should not have survived the transformation. So I sent her away, through the Medial Realm. I thought surely that would kill her, and if not, she would have no way to return to the High Court.”

            “Except she did return,” Juna said, a little reverently. “We all passed through.”

            “Foolish boy,” Olaris spat. “You passed through because I let you pass through.”

            “You knew we were coming?” Kessy asked, her voice very, very small. I did this.

            “Of course. I know everything that happens and passes through the Medial Realm. I knew you were coming. I also knew that the most efficient way to end this was to finish it myself.”

            Out of the corner of her eye, Kessy saw Kandor squeeze Amily tighter, her little body trembling. “And how is that?” Kandor asked, his voice hard.

            Olaris smiled. “With the theater, of course.”

KANDOR

Amily’s hand in his felt clammy. He lifted it up absently to his lips and kissed it, wishing he could protect her from what was about to happen.

            The sounds of the amphitheater grew louder, an audience hungry for a show.

            A tragedy to rival Shakespeare’s, Olaris had said.

            The performance was indeed a tragedy. The end of the play saw its heroes vanquished, the heroine sacrificing herself for her friends only to watch them die regardless.

            Olaris had created a part for each of them.

            And the show was about to begin.

            Kandor looked down at his little sister, who had run out of tears hours ago. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, and Kandor wasn’t sure if he should tell her or not. His only consolation was that Amily’s character died relatively early on. She would not suffer like the other three would.

            His eyes panned to Juna, who Kandor knew was thinking of his wife. Kandor scooped up Amily and made his way to his best friend, resting his hand on Juna’s shoulder for a long moment.

            They said nothing. What was there to say?

            Amily reached for Juna and Kandor handed her over, looking over at Kessy. Her eyes seemed dull, sunken. Already lifeless, though she still breathed. Kandor went to her and took her hand.

            “You have a cut right here,” he murmured, touching her face.

            Kessy didn’t move. “It doesn’t matter now.”

            “Yes, it does.” Kandor inspected it. “Does it hurt?”

            Kessy shook her head. After a moment, he felt her small, trembling hand slide into his own. “I’m so sorry, Kandor,” she whispered.

            “Oh no…Kessy…why are you sorry?”

            A tear caught on her eyelashes, sparkling in the dim light of the coliseum just beyond them. “This is my fault.”

            “No.” Kandor put his hands on her shoulders. “This isn’t your fault. How could you have known?”

            “I—”

            “Right.” He flashed her a half smile. “You couldn’t have.”

            She looked down. “I’m sorry about Amily.”

            Kandor looked to his sister, still clinging to Juna. “She had so much life to live,” he murmured.

            Kessy swallowed an ill-contained sob, and before he quite realized it, Kandor took her in his arms and held her tightly. She sobbed into his chest, and Kandor stroked her blonde hair, overwhelmed with the amount of love he realized he had for her and the very little time he had left to tell her. He pulled back, taking her tearstained face in his hands.

            “Kessy—I wanted to—I need to tell you—”

            Kessy’s fingers gripped his wrists. “I know, I know,” she sobbed.

            Kandor kissed her suddenly, gently, tenderly. He had never kissed a girl before and he didn’t know if he did it right, but he also found that right now, it didn’t matter.

Kessy

Kessy remembered only bits and pieces of the performance: the firearm intended for Amily somehow wrested away by her brother, the blood pouring out of a wound from Juna’s shoulder, the flashing screen of lines, and the text that read: “I speak as my understanding instructs me and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.”

            Somehow, she felt life breathe into her. Her mother’s last gift. She heard a voice whisper, Speak, Kassiopeia.

            Kessy opened her mouth and spoke.

Kandor

“I am the rightful heir to a kingdom marked by violence and greed, and if that is to be my inheritance, then I want no part in it.”

            Kessy’s voice didn’t tremble. Kandor held Amily close and listened to her forego the lines Olaris wrote for them. Instead, she lobbied charge after charge against her father as she climbed to the top of the set laid out for them, at eye level with the king. “But if you take these innocent lives,” she said, the acoustics of the amphitheater carrying her voice to the ears of every listener, “how are you any better than the usurper you claimed my mother to be?” She held his gaze even as her father rose to meet her, standing nose to nose.

            “You will not give me orders in my own kingdom,” he said in a low voice, flanked on either side by his most powerful magicians.

            “No?” Kessy’s eyes held a strange glint. “I think you mean my kingdom.”

            Olaris laughed in her face. “Your kingdom? You stupid, foolish girl. You have more audacity than I thought.”

            The wind whipped around them both. “I spent a great many hours studying the royal texts,” Kessy said evenly, her voice unsettlingly calm. “In them, I learned every law that the Celestial Realm must adhere to. Everyone in the kingdom must follow these laws—including yourself, Your Majesty. The High Court leaves no room for criminals, especially not a criminal whose entire purpose is to lead our kingdom with wisdom, honor, and dignity.”

            A crack rang out; Olaris had slapped his daughter across the face. “How dare you insinuate such things about your king?”

            “Oh, but I’m not insinuating,” Kessy gasped, a hand to her cheek. “You said it yourself not three hours ago: the official age for public execution is eighteen years.” She pointed towards Kandor and Amily. “In sentencing this child to death, you have broken one of the Celestial Realm’s most sacred laws, and as such, are immediately disposed of your throne and all the rights that come with it.” She smiled faintly. “So, yes, I do mean ‘my kingdom,’ and you are no longer my king. Your reign is over, Father.”

            All was silent for a few moments. Kandor held his breath. Kessy lifted her chin a little bit higher. Olaris kept his gaze leveled on her as long as he dared, but he finally stepped back, acknowledging his defeat and his deposition. His part ended. Kessy’s was just beginning.

            Kessy’s shoulders slumped the tiniest bit, and Kandor could see the relief on her face. She turned to go, a princess descending her throne, when Amily suddenly screamed.

            “Kessy—look out!”

            Kessy whipped around just in time to see one of Olaris’ magicians fling a blinding spell at her. Kandor shoved Amily at Juna and ran to catch her body as it fell from the set and plummeted towards the ground.

Epilogue

There have been many stories about that day, passed down from mother to child and on and on and on. Some say Kandor made it to Kessy and caught her in his arms moments before impact. Others say she caught herself somehow. Still others swear they felt a breeze blow through the arena, buoying Kessy’s fall and setting her lightly on the ground.

            No one knows for sure.

            The only thing they do know is that following the deposition of King Olaris the Usurper, the Courts were once again split evenly. The Celestial Realm enjoyed many fruitful and prosperous years under the rule of a fair and kind queen. Minstrels spun sonnets about her flax-colored hair and sparkling blue eyes, cloudy as they were.

Kassiopeia didn’t need to see to be a good queen. She knew that simply being alive, surviving a curse that should have killed her, at the helm of the kingdom she was created to lead, was enough. Even more so, being alive with her family felt above and beyond enough.

Listening to Amily’s musical laugh or feeling Kandor’s gentle fingers run through her hair was more than she could have ever hoped for, and she thanked the stars every single day for the role she was blessed to play in this cosmic tale.

Written By: Caroline Johnson

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Faint Memories and Present Illusions: Part 2

A harsh glint of metal meets my eyes as I turn a dagger over in my hand, inspecting the blade for nicks, scratches, and grime. I sheath the blade and secure the weapon inside my boot. Peering up at my darling, fiancėe, Vera, as she touches up her hair in front of the vanity. I hide six more daggers around my body. The metal’s weight brings a familiar calm to my mind as I remember crafting each blade for this night and any subsequent events of a similar nature. I straighten and step towards my darling before saying, “You look immaculate tonight, love.”

Vera stands and candlelight dances across her golden hair. She moves forward and her blue gown glides over the wooden floor. Her hands raise and sign, “You truly think so?”

I swiftly move and stand in front of her, my footsteps light from over a year of training and experience. Grasping her chilly hand in my own, I say, “But of course, my beautiful Vera. The blue dress you wear flatters your golden hair, even though you look stunning in every attire.” I pause to brush my other hand against her cheek before continuing. “Each strand on your head looks elegant but natural. Your smile lights up the depths of my soul. If anyone thinks otherwise, that individual has less taste than the swine of the farm.”

Vera blushes and signs, “You are too kind.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I thank the heavens above for her humble, innocent nature. She blesses my life with her sparkling smile, beauty, and generosity. My time at war changed my life, but the constant stream of letters overflowing with kind and lovely words helped me as I went on assignments. I returned with damaged hearing but watched my fiancėe’s face glow with excitement making every action worth the mental and physical pain. Her smile brings me joy. Her love brings me peace. Her naivetė brings me bliss. What else could I ask for in a fiancėe?

Tapping my arm, Vera signs, “Should we not leave soon if we are to make it to your friend’s manor before sundown?”

I sigh and step away from my darling, readjusting the collar of my jacket before saying, “I do believe you are right, my love.”

We move to the door and I grab my wooden cane as we leave. I close the door and lock it with a silver key. Grasping Vera’s hand, I guide her to our humble carriage. I detest the thing, but transportation is transportation. Sir Capulon ‘gifted’ it to me as a spoil of war. I help Vera catch her footing and climb into the seat before moving to check the horses. After inspecting the leather straps that secure the creatures in place, I circle the carriage making certain the wheels are properly oiled and bear no cracks. While a short journey, a timely arrival is necessary when dealing with the Capulons and the rest of their company.

I walk back to the box seat and see the ratty floor and blood-caked cushions inside the carriage. Thankfully Vera loved the outdoors and preferred to sit in the box seat with me. It would be most difficult to explain how that happened or why I possess such an item. Hoisting myself onto the seat, I accept the reigns from dearest Vera and flick the leather straps to start our journey into the copper autumn world.

---

We ride in pleasant silence over dirt paths surrounded by endless fields of grass waving in the breeze and vultures swarming in the distance. I enjoy the winding roads and cool autumn breeze, as I brace myself for the night ahead, a final callback to the war. A celebration. A memorial. A mission. The grey sky foretells the plans of the night while the sun emits a strange red glow and sinks below a broken horizon of dense forests and crumbled stone. This night either ends my political connection or deepens their need for my services.

 I jolt out of my thoughts when Vera leans on my shoulder and asks for the time. I reply, “Just a few more moments. It is just around this turn.”

The dirt roads change to cobbled paths closer to the mansion. We cross a small bridge over a creek before passing through rows of hedges and beds of snapdragons, begonias, and lavender. To our left, a broken well sits, waiting to be filled. Our carriage pulls into the main driveway, and I stop in front of the large oak doors. Stone walls welcome us to the main entrance and flickering candles illuminate the windows.

Vera holds out her silk blindfold, which serves no physical purpose but grants her mind ease, and I gently tie it around her head, making sure to avoid ruining her golden hair. I climb down and help Vera off. Her light blue gown and bright smile seem directly oppositional to my dark suit and the glinting knives tucked inside my outfit. How could one so happy and innocent love someone as misleading and destructive as me? I thank the heavens above that Vera will not understand what takes place tonight, should everything go according to plan.

 I turn to my fiancėe and say, “Thank you for coming with me tonight, my love. Your willingness to meet my colleagues means a great amount to me. I hope you find that Mr. Douglas’ hosting skills and my other acquaintances present an excellent representation of my work.”

She smiles, “Robin, dear, you are my eyes and I, your ears. Why would I waste such an opportunity to see your friend’s home?” After that, Vera links our arms together. “Introduce me to them.”

            “But of course.”

I guide her up the stairs and into the marbled foyer. The crystal chandelier glitters in the warm candles and dozens of plants with creeping vines line the walls and sit on tables. Turning to the left, we enter the main hosting room. People dressed in a variety of colors scatter the wide hall in little groups and a live string quartet plays in the corner. There are many tables along the walls with snacks, beverages, and other such pleasantries. Spotting the red uniform attire of my colleagues, Caleb and Elanor, I move over to them with Vera still attached to my arm.

            “Monsieur Caleb, I would like you to meet my darling fiancėe, Vera. Dear, this is Caleb Monte and his wife Elanor.”

            Vera smiles and extends her hand, saying, “It is a pleasure to meet you both. Robin wholly refuses to reveal details about his work. Naturally, I am curious. How did you all come to meet?”

            As Caleb and Elanor tell my fiancėe how we met in the blacksmith when they placed an order of weapons for the war, I scan the room and see each unsuspecting noble laugh and mingle with the very people plotting against them. Michael and I make eye contact and he nods to a corner where Monsieur Taylor drinks from his glass. I return the nod and finish my scan of the room, noting the entrances, windows, and movable objects. Taking a deep breath to anchor my mind, I press my hand against the dagger attached to my waist. The dawn of a new era will begin soon, and the world is not prepared for what this group plans to change.

            I notice Vera gesture towards me and turn my attention back to my darling, reading her lips, “What genre of books do you sell in your Braile collection? I consider myself a literature fanatic, when I have the proper books, of course.”

            I move my arm to grab her hand and say, “Yes, my little Vera has quite the knack for reading. Darling, Monsieur Caleb’s store is the place where I get your specially printed books. Though I do sometimes wonder what it is in those books that captures your attention so well.” Leaning to kiss her cheek, I continue, “Now, Miss Elanor, would you introduce my fiancėe to Lady Rowena? I do believe the three of you ladies will get along splendidly.”

            The group voices their agreement, and my fiancėe remains silent before tapping my arm to get my attention. Vera signs, “Are you sure? I would love to meet new acquaintances, yet to leave you is unfamiliar. Should we not be together before the dinner begins?”

            “It is alright, my love. Elanor is a sweet young lady who I suspect understands our situation. Is that correct, Miss?”

            Elanor nods. “Indeed it is. Vera, I agree with your fiancé. Lady Rowena will adore you. I can guide you to her.”

            Vera nods, resolving to meet new people. “Very well. Robin, dearest, will we sit together at dinner?” she asks.

            “I would dream of nothing else,” I say, unlocking my arm from hers. “Enjoy the night, my love.”

            Walking away with Caleb, we start to mingle with the variety of guests. Many nobles with secrets darker than a black dahlia sip on crystal glasses of punch. They smile their ignorant little smiles, unaware of our host’s intentions. Every one of the guests is here for a purpose, some because of power or money, others because they hinder future plans. The Capulons designed this event to finish what we started during the war. Something illegal, perhaps. Definitely immoral. But above all, intentional. This night will go down in silent history, unknown to the citizens, but whispered in halls of stone. Life and death will unravel like loose threads from an old sweater, uncontrollable unless cut off from the whole.

            We move to a familiar group of red-clad men by the windows overlooking Marilyn’s garden. Joining their circle and leaning against the wall, I greet them, saying, “Good evening, gentlemen. Delightful event, now, is it?”

            The man on my right, Taylor Wilkins, nods and says, “Indeed. Your wife did a lovely job planning this, Michael.”

            “Thank you, Monsieur Taylor. We all knew Marilyn had a knack for planning. But I did provide a few ideas of my own for dinner.” Michael responds while polishing his glasses on his maroon blazer.

            We continue talking and Michael grabs my arm before laughing. During this moment, he slips a paper into my hand, and I pass him two of the many daggers on my person. He moves back and wipes a tear from his cheek before saying, “Robin, my friend, how is life treating you? Do you need anything?”

            “No, I believe you have given me enough.” I have no desire to be further connected to this family, yet I suspect Vera will get attached enough for the both of us. One year ago, Michael gave me the carriage for helping him during the war. Quite an ironic present because it came from a noble he ordered me to assassinate.

            “Very well, Caleb; Taylor, make sure you get what you need before dinner begins. Marilyn is quite picky about timeliness.” With that final word, Michael leaves the three of us alone.

            I look around the room, making certain there are no wandering eyes, if any of these guests possess an inkling of suspicion about this event, our plans could fall apart. Seeing all the nobles engaged and distracted with conversations, Taylor moves closer and I pass him a dagger, which he hides under his coat. I sip from my glass and hand another two blades to Caleb. We talk for a few more minutes before separating to converse with the other invitees. I walk past vases filled with black dahlias, pink snapdragons, red begonias, and fragrant lavender. I see Vera talking to Rowena, Marilyn, and Elanor by the snack table.

            Later, we move into the dining room. A long, black oak table sits in the middle of the room with twenty pleated chairs with armrests lining the sides. Floral arrangements, just like those in the hall, decorate the center. A large stained glass window is behind the head of the table, and each wall has three sets of closed doors. I stand by Caleb while we wait for the rest of the guests. Vera enters with the other ladies and they guide her to our seats.            

I walk over to my fiancėe and say, “Here is your chair, my love,” I say, pulling out the pleated chair for her.

            “Thank you, Robin,” Vera says as she sits in the designated chair. I push her seat closer to the table, step to my right, and sit in my chair. I look around the table and see Marilyn and Michael at the front, side-by-side, Taylor to Michael’s right, then Vera, myself, and to Marilyn’s left Caleb, Elanor, and Rowena. The other sixteen guests follow on either side, each seated in the chair designed for them and marked by the card in front of the table setting.

            I catch part of Taylor’s words to my fiancėe  “…close friends. He told me a great deal about your musical talents and language skills. Taylor Wilkins, at your service, miss.”

            “It is lovely to meet you, Monsieur Taylor. Meeting his acquaintances is always interesting. How did the two of you meet?” Vera asks both of us. I press my arm against hers and clasp our hands together.

            “Vera, my love, I met Taylor during a strategy meeting. He and Michael leaned over a table covered in maps while drinking hot tea. When I entered, Taylor passed me a third cup without looking up. I joined them and the other advisors and listened to the group talk through the statistics of either side’s troops. I worked to train the soldiers into swordsmen.”

            “Quite skilled in that field, Robin is. I do believe his swordsmanship skills only improved over the year or two when he trained the soldiers. Many would find it difficult to disarm your fiancé unless they could distract him.”

            Vera looks at me, pursing her lips, a sign of confusion, and asks why I never told her I fought with blades, not just making them. I sigh and say, “Love, I did not want to dwell on the past. Dueling for sport and killing to survive are extremely different actions. I prefer to enjoy my time with you or work in the forge, not thinking about what I did during the most challenging time of my life.” I squeeze her hand reassuringly and continue, “Anyway, you never showed interest in my duels before. I want to plan for the future, not think about the past.”

            The conversations around the table fall silent, and Michael welcomes the guests. “I hope you enjoyed your night has gone smoothly thus far. My wife and I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedules. Tonight, we dine on fresh baguettes with olive oil, a salad lightly tossed in a raspberry vinaigrette, followed by marvelous potato soup, which is Marilyn’s favorite, and a butterscotch soufflé for dessert.”

            Marilyn chimes in, “As always, we have tea, coffee, and fruit platters after the meal while we continue to fellowship and enjoy one another’s presence. But enough about our plans, let us eat!” With her final words, the doors lining the walls open, and multiple figures step out with plates of food balanced in their hands.

---

            After dinner, Vera leans over to ask me, “I wondered, my dear, if I could go see this garden I heard so much about from my new acquaintances. Simply sit in the moonlight and enjoy nature while you mingle with your friends.” 

            “I see no reason not to, my love, as long as Marilyn does not mind you venturing through her creation.” I smile and thank our luck that she decided to ask first. Otherwise, Marilyn planned to offer to show her the flowers.

Turning her face toward the head of the table, Vera repeats the question to Marilyn. She responds, “That sounds like a lovely idea, Vera. My hydrangeas and hyacinths are in full bloom, which is unusual for this time of year. The fruit trees bear harvests of sweet cherries, apples, and peaches. I will show you to my favorite bench and let you soak in the atmosphere.”

            Both stand and walk towards the manor’s exterior, and Marilyn looks back, nodding to the rest of the group, a nod that starts the unraveling. Caleb, Elanor, Taylor, Michael, Rowena, and I each draw our daggers, concealing them under the tablecloth. The other guests continue eating, unaware of the danger.

            Michael stands and says, “Now, I have a present for some of you.” He pulls out a little red button. “I want to thank you for coming here tonight, your trust is quite shocking, and unfortunately, we will not need you any longer. One might say, that we are restarting the little country we call home.” He pauses, “Too many stitches have fallen out and must be cut off. You must understand, business is business.”

He presses the button and metal snaps up from the armrests around each guest’s wrists. Caleb, Taylor, Elanor, and Rowena reveal their knives and show them off to the wide-eyed men and women who cry out from shock and fear. I see tears stream down some of the women’s faces as I stand. Part of me sees Vera in those tears, while the other half feels numb and knows how this will end. However, every project will end, and some get scrapped and reformed. The Capulons will reknit this sweater into a nation of their own. Drawing my blade, I move behind the first man. Time to cut loose strings.

---

Walking into the tall rows of hedges, I button up the coat that I borrowed from Michael. My own offers a dead giveaway if Vera felt the damp cloth. Rounding the corner, I see my fiancėe sitting on the stone bench. The moonlight reflects off her hair as I walk to her, grab her hands, and pull her to her feet. She stumbles before regaining her balance and signing, “Gracious, Robin! You startled me.”

            I chuckle. “Well, what did you expect? I cannot let a lady as beautiful as you sit alone. And you always liked dancing, so I thought we could live in the moment.” I slowly move and Vera follows, the two of us swaying and gliding across the soft grass. I spin Vera into my arms, and we stand together under the moonlight.

Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “Love, how did you like our little trip?”

She smiles up at me and replies, “I found it splendid and enjoyable. Your friends sound so sweet and friendly. Later, I would love to connect with them more because they seem like good people.”

            I smile at her ignorant trust and hug her. “That sounds like an excellent plan, darling. I will set up a gathering between you and the other ladies.” I spin Vera out on my left hand before stepping closer. I kiss her hand and continue, “We should leave soon so we get back home before midnight, my love.”

            “Sounds good.”

            We link arms and walk back through the garden. Vera stoops and puts her shoes on before following me around the manor. As we walk past the beds of flowers, I pluck a little pink snapdragon and tuck it behind Vera’s ear. My darling would never understand the life we live. I never want her involved in the crimes we commit. Her ignorance brings me bliss. However, I do not miss the irony of her desire for a garden. She never learned the communication of flowers, something our hosts know themselves and taught me.

Each flower holds a meaning, some positive, but others warning the viewer of a danger. Marilyn loved languages and wanted her garden to represent herself: beautiful, cunning, wealthy, but above all, deceptive as a snapdragon. The Capulons planned this night for a year and started a process of reforming a country and molding it into a new nation, one with them as its leaders. A string unraveled and reknit. A blade formed of reclaimed metal. A country overthrown and reordered after new ideas. Each project requires work and maintenance, each taking what failed and restoring it to a purpose, a purpose set by the maker. Marilyn and Michael mastered their craft and did not hesitate to use it.

I help Vera into the carriage and climb up after. She leans against me and relaxes in her seat. She signs to me, “I like Marilyn’s garden; do you think I can make my garden similar?”

            “Of course, love, not the same, but similar. She has a little broken well that I doubt we can replicate, but any flowers you desire, I will find for you.”

She gasps. “Thank you, Robin! I cannot wait to add more to my garden.”

“Would you like to start with snapdragons?” I say.

Vera and I walk out of the main garden and past the broken well, unto which my closest colleagues toss dark forms to its depths, never to rise again. It is truly a shame that they did not see such an event coming when we invited them to the Capulon mansion. But alas, every garden contains secrets, and sometimes our perspectives blind us to the truth.

Written By: Marian Markley

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A Beautiful Day for Exploring

“It’s a beautiful day for exploring, Captain.”

Altha looked to the skies as the memory of her first mate’s words echoed in her mind. He’d spoken them on a day just like this one, a day beginning with clear skies and seas as smooth as glass, shining in the early morning light. Fin, had always been an early riser. He preferred to spend his mornings soaking in the sunrise before the rest of The Immobilis’s crew stirred from their slumber.

Altha, on the other hand, had never truly been fond of the mornings. Her wavy brown hair always worked itself into knots, and her blouses never ceased to find a way to wrinkle overnight. A tiny bedframe and rocking ship made her back constricted and stiff, and her waking mind was as muddled as gray fog. The only place the early morning fog seemed to clear was up in the crow’s nest, high atop the tallest mast, where the wind blew steady and the ocean spread high and wide.

And so, every morning before the break of dawn, Fin waited outside her chambers knocking twice to jar her from slumber. Once Altha managed to wrangle herself out of bed, he would took hand under the cover of the fading wisps of night, and escorted her to a ladder swaying in the wind. The ladder served as a rickety lifeline to The Immobilis’s crow’s nest, crafted from rapidly thinning rope ties, and anchored to the top with a bowline knot.

Fin always made her climb up first. He followed her closely, never outwardly admitting fear for her clumsy early-morning state. Occasionally, when she swayed in the wind, or lost her grip, she felt his firm hand resting on her back, holding her steady with a strength that only came from years of experience on the rough seas.

Crawling into the crow’s nest together, they sent the last sailor on night watch to bed. Altha still remembered hearing the sailor’s slight chuckle once he believed himself out of earshot. “The darn lovebirds are at it again,” he’d mumbled to himself, raising a flush of embarrassment in Altha’s cheeks.

“Watch your words or I’ll have your tongue,” she warned him, only for the sailor to turn with a shrug.

“You said that yesterday.”

As Captain of The Immobilis, a ship voyaging to explore the vast seas and whatever dangers lay within them, she needed to keep a reputation up among her crew. Their trust was paramount. Without their help, no exploration would take place, no treasure would be found, and no new worlds discovered. Stories told of her ship’s ferocity, courage, and unfailing resolve, so much so that The Immobilis was hailed as the ship that would never sink. Altha knew all the tales. Afterall, she’d perpetuated many of the myths herself. In her line of work, a reputation was the key to success.

But that reputation crumbled with Fin at her side.

Or perhaps it was she who crumbled.

Altha could still hear his ramblings, as he talked about a dream of finding a new world they could explore together. It was their shared dream, a belief that filled their waking minds with wonder as they theorized what it would look like when their ship finally crossed over to a new land. They’d vowed to explore whatever new sights they found together, always together. Altha still remembered how the corner of his mouth slanted into a smile as he told imaginary tales about what he theorized the new world would be like, sharing stories of tall gods that shook the earth, land stretching farther than the eye could see, and the two of them at the center of it all. He spoke of it with such clarity, she almost wondered if Fin really had seen the new world.

Every now and then, she remembered something that felt like a dream when Fin was telling his stories. Glimpses of an enormous wooden surface, carving tools, unfinished sails, and an unfamiliar voice speaking to her about her stories of ferocity, courage, and unfailing resolve, in soft tones that still managed to make her quiver. And each time, she’d shake off the hazy memories with thoughts of Fin. She remembered how his golden hair shone in dawn’s rising light as they huddled together in the crow’s nest, and how she lost track of time searching the ocean of his eyes. More than that, she pictured stolen moments, kisses hidden beneath the ship’s deck, love letters whisked away by the wind’s breath, and her terrible, terrible weakness.

His voice.

“It’s a beautiful day for exploring, Captain.”

His voice still called to her from the farthest shores of her mind. Rich and smooth, and as weighty as the ocean’s waves. When commanding the crew, there was a sharpness to it that demanded efficiency and respect, but when he spoke to her, the walls around his voice fell away into whispers of adoration every time he called her,“Captain.”  

He never said her name.

Perhaps it was out of respect for her, perhaps to hide the signs of their love from the rest of the crew, though everyone surely knew of it already.

Fin always addressed her as Captain.

Altha would have done anything to hear him say it again.

Staring into dawn’s rising light, she remembered how their last beautiful day had spiraled into skies as dark as night. Winds howled past, the seas turning on them as waves as tall as mountains crested over the bow of the ship. The Immobilis shook, sending sailors tumbling across the deck like drunken men unable to find their footing. Drenched in icy water, with salt stinging her eyes, Altha stood at the wheel, directing their course. She was responsible for keeping them steady.

She should have seen the wave coming.

Digging her nails into the wood of the ship’s wheel, Altha closed her eyes, letting the memory crash over her just like the wave.

“Brace yourselves!”

She remembered hearing Fin call to everyone, his voice especially loud at her ear level. He was at her side. He was always at her side.

Until…

For a moment, the entire ship was plunged underwater, the bow dipping under first before the rest of the body followed. Altha clung to the wheel with every muscle taunt, her breath caught in her chest, and her eyes squeezed shut. The water beat around her body, lifting her feet from under her, and threatening to pull her away before the ship emerged from under the current. The Immobilis, the ship that never sank, would live up to its legacy, but not without a cost.

The ship rose again, and Altha’s feet flew out from under her as her hands lost their grasp on the wheel. “Help!” She called, expecting to find a hand resting on her back, making sure that if she lost her grip she would not fall or fly away. 

But Fin wasn’t there.

The sharp sound of something shattering filled her ears, as The Immobilis was cast into uncharted territory. The sky fractured, pieces flying all around them in jagged shards, glassy shapes giving way to a new world. For a moment, as Altha glided in the air, her fear gave way to glory.

This was the world they’d been looking for. A new land across the sea. Altha watched as the glass ceiling she thought was the sky fell around her. Below, her ship lurched and tumbled, before coming to a standstill at last, on a smooth wooden surface. She too, collided with the hard surface, pain instantaneously spreading all across her body in furious waves.

Altha groaned as she tried to roll over, the shattered sky lay all around her ship, and the ocean spread farther than ever before, its waters mixing with small islands of dirt and dust bunnies on the floor of a new world.

Then came the tremors. Huge, bolder-like shoes shook the ground as the voice of a young god cried out above her. Tears spilled over the side of his mountainous face, like rivers joining with the ocean waters below. He stomped his feet, causing the ground to quake under his heavy stride, and shouting, “Oh no! I broke it!”

The feet of an older god appeared soon after, responding to his cries calmly. “Don’t worry, son. The ship is still intact, and I have another bottle I can put it in.”

Before Altha could comprehend what occurred, the hand of the older god picked her and the ship up. “It seems we almost lost our Captain too, hm?” he muttered, reaching for a bottle of what looked to be white paste on a wooden plateau. Too scared to move, Altha froze in his grip, her body still aching from the fall. She watched in immobile agony as he applied the paste to the bottom of her feet with his ever-so-cautious hands and planted her back at the wheel to her ship.

“A Captain has got to go down with her ship, you know,” The older god explained. “We can’t have the famous pirate, Captain Altha, known for her ferocity, courage, and unfailing resolve, getting separated from her ship.” 

While his tone teased, Altha felt her world shatter even farther with his words. His voice matched the one she’d heard whispers of in the hazy memories she dismissed as dreams. The words he spoke to her had been her stories, the ones she thought she’d crafted about herself weren’t hers after all. The world she’d lived and journeyed in hadn’t been hers either, but a construct created by someone else. And worst of all, she had let her ship sink. She’d let go, and sometime in the process, she’d lost Fin too. In that moment, it felt like she was drifting without any control, lost at sea without her anchor. Now, she was nothing but anchored. So secure that she would never drift away to explore new shores or fall into the arms of her love again.

The older god lowered the sails of the ship, bending it carefully to fit within the confines of a new sky, this one higher than the last, and the ocean wider as well. Altha would have been impressed if she’d never seen the world outside her own.

“I think one of the sailors broke,” She overheard the young god say. “The blond guy, he fell off the boat and snapped in half.”

Altha swore she felt her heart stop.

Fin.

He was talking about Fin.

Before she could hear the older god’s response, the sky was sealed off with a blot of porous wood. Silence overtook The Immobilis. Not even the sea breeze dared to breathe, or the ocean dare to sway. Everything returned to perfect stillness, just as it was before the storm.

Except for Altha.

Her heart felt like it had forgotten how to beat. Under the crushing news that Fin was no more, she wobbled and swayed, her body refusing to hold her weight, but she found that she could not fall to her knees. The glue on her feet would not allow her body to bend in such a way. Instead, she leaned against the ship’s wheel, her sobs echoing across the new world.

Fin was gone.

The day would never be beautiful again.

Altha opened her eyes, the memory receding to an ache she carried in her chest. The space at her side was still empty. Fin’s presence was still missing. Two full days had passed since the incident in which the sky shattered. Gradually, the crew had recovered from their shock. They soon began to mull about the ship once more, checking sails, mopping the deck, and taking shifts sleeping and keeping watch. Altha, however, found herself glued to her spot at the wheel with nothing to do but reminisce, watching the colors of dawn fade as time rolled by at a snail’s pace.

At last, she’d had enough.

“You there,” she called out her first order since the storm, pointing to a sailor meandering about. “Make yourself useful and help me remove the vile substance holding my feet hostage.”

“Yes, Cap’n,” The sailor replied with a quick salute, before shuffling off to grab a scraper and two other men. Together, the team of three sailors chipped away at the glue binding Altha to the ship deck, bit by bit. In what felt like an eternity later, Altha was freed.

“Well done. You’re a loyal crew indeed.” Altha congratulated her fellow sailors. “You will do well when I am gone.”

“Gone?” One of the sailors blinked up at her, his face scrunched up in confusion.

“Aye.” Altha nodded. “I’ve seen the new world we’ve all dreamed of reaching, and I don’t intend to stay in the confines of this one any longer. My goal is simple: I’m off to find Fin… or at least what remains of him. Should he truly be gone, he deserves a proper burial and send off. I cannot betray my dearest friend and give him any less.”

The crew nodded, each one understanding the weight of their Captain’s words. They knew her well enough to understand that she would go in search of her lost love until she either found him or lost herself.

“What are your orders?” a brave soul among them asked.

“Bring the ship forward, reach the porous wooden door that marks the end of the world, and ram The Immobilis against it. With luck, the force of such an action will fling it open.” Altha instructed, sending the crew into action immediately.

The Immobilis surged forward, following Altha’s commands. They raised the sails, straightened the rudder, and cast the ship into motion.

“Brace for impact!” Altha cried once more, her memory flashing back to the last time she’d exclaimed such similar words. She saw the fear in her crew’s eyes, as they doubtlessly imagined the same chain of events, the rocky storm that shattered their sky and sea, sending them tumbling into a world outside their own. A world Altha just pledged to return to. A world in which Fin still remained.

Altha gripped the wheel as The Immobilis crashed into the cork door, sending the blockade that sealed her inside the glass walled world flying out of place. A perfectly spherical exit opened up before her, raising a chorus of cheers from the crew. Altha felt she should cheer with them, to share in their joy of accomplishment, but all she could feel was a hollowness in her chest. Where a heart should beat, a hole remained, filled with the tension of looming anxiety.

 Now came the hard part: leaving.

Crossing over to the bow of the ship, Altha balanced on the ship’s end, and turned to face her crew. “Farewell, my loyal sailors. I leave The Immobilis to you now. Care for her as I have and sail bravely. Should fate be on my side, I may return to you. If not, live lives worthy of going down in history.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” The crew called back in unison, raising their hands to a salute as Altha climbed through the exit, squeezing her way through the narrow glass canal and back onto the wooden surface she recognized from before. It stretched as far and wide as a desert, before taking a steep drop off the sides. A variety of landmarks were scattered across its flat surface, each quite larger versions of things she recognized. A giant pen and pad of paper, a dried-up palette of paint, and a water glass. Then, a familiar set of colors, golden hair and ocean eyes walking, no running, towards her. His gait was sloppy, and he held a hand at his side, clutching his waist like he had a stitch in his side. A blue scarf was tied around his middle, a decorative ornament that likely served as more of a bandage than it did a fashion statement.

“Captain!” he shouted, his voice filled with all the tenderness she remembered, and a joy that matched the rapid beat that drummed in the heart Altha thought she’d lost.

She burst into tears.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Altha was running too. For once, she didn’t care if any eyes were watching, whether they be her crew or the gods of the new world. She threw herself at Fin, wrapping him in an embrace so tight she nearly knocked the breath out of him.

“You’re alive,” Altha breathed, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “How can it be? I thought I lost you. I heard that you…” She paused and looked down at the scarf around Fin’s waist, recalling the young god’s words about him snapping in half.

“It’s true.” Fin confirmed her suspicions. “But, I was healed by the young god that caused the storm to surge by shaking our world. It seems he felt rather bad about what he’d done and wanted to make amends. He pieced me back together and gave me a colorful accessory to cover the wounds.”

“I can’t believe it.” Altha muttered, looking him over once more, expecting her eyes to betray her, and for Fin to disappear once more. However, his steady arms remained looped around her, holding her tighter than ever before.

“I can’t either. I saw you fall and I feared I’d lost you as well,” Fin replied, and she felt him release a long breath, his shoulders relaxing as he drew her in a little closer still. Then, he tensed as a soft tremor shook the ground.

“Someone’s coming.” Fin whispered, his arm slipping around her waist to hurriedly escort her away. The two hid behind the water glass as the hand of the familiar older god picked up the cork The Immobilis had recently discarded.

“How peculiar. I must not have secured this as tightly as I thought.” He mumbled to himself, reinserting the cork into the jar and closing off Altha and Fin’s only return to The Immobilis. With a gentle walk that had slowed with age, the god snatched the dried palette of paint off the desk, murmuring something about how it needed to be cleaned before walking off again.

Altha breathed a sigh of relief, grateful they hadn’t been caught. Fin cursed under his breath.

“That was our only way back,” he grumbled, visible frustration clouding his face.

Altha looked back at the ship with a different set of eyes. She couldn’t see it the same as before. What she saw now were the confines of a familiar world, a prison disguised as a great adventure, when in reality The Immobilis was bound to a glass jar and it always had been. Everything about it, from the stories she thought she’d created for herself, to the world’s design, had been crafted by someone else. She knew that now. She knew that if they returned, they’d never be able to choose a fate for themselves. They’d never go on a real adventure.

Altha shook her head. “There are no more journeys for us to take back there. Fin, this is the new world we’ve been searching for. The Immobilis can’t take us any farther.”

Fin paused for a moment, a bit of uncertainty crossing his face before he reluctantly nodded in agreement. “Perhaps you’re right.” A smile gently crept across his face as he offered her a hand. “It is a beautiful day for exploring, Captain.”

“Altha,” She corrected him softly. “I’m no longer your Captain.”

“Altha,” Fin repeated, the name bringing a smile to his lips. The sound of it drew a small shiver down Altha’s spine. She liked the delicate inflection of his voice, and the softness in the way he said her name.

“It’s a beautiful day for exploring, Altha,” Fin said once more, as Altha took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his as they took their first steps across the outside world together.

Altha agreed, looking across skies that were finally unfamiliar to her. “Aye, it is.”

Written by: Naomi Hernandez

Image Credit

Nameless: Chapter 3

I awoke in a strange place. The first pain I felt continued as a searing headache. My body lay on a soft cushion, all my wounds covered. Then, I heard a cry. Across from me stood a toddler bouncing in his crib, pointing at me with tears in his eyes. Soon, a woman arrived. Upon seeing me, she yelled a name; “Evander!” The woman approached and hugged me before taking a seat by my side. “How are you feeling?” she asked. Talking to strangers scared me, so I remained silent, not wanting to provoke any anger. A tall, bearded man entered with the biggest smile. He proceeded to soothe the crying toddler in his arms and took a seat next to the woman who called him. She continued to interrogate me. For most of the questions, I did not know the answers.

            “Do you know where you are?”

            No idea.

            “Do you know who you are?

            That never mattered.

            “Your name?”

            I never had one.

            “Me?” the stranger concluded.

            I remained silent.

            Six pairs of eyes pierced mine with a faint look of horror. All but the toddler seemed to be holding back tears. The child tearfully extended his arms toward me waiting for a response. I stayed still, not wanting to do anything disallowed. At first, my mind confusingly wondered where my parents were. It took me too long to realize that they finally disowned me.

“Maybe she just needs some time, Eleni?” the man questioned.

            “Maybe,” the lady whispered.

            The man put his hand on my head and looked me in the eye. “You rest up well now, you hear?”

            Then, the three of them left me alone in the house, so they could share some news with the rest of this unusual village. It puzzled me as to why these two would care for me in their own home and not introduce themselves. Did this place not have a hospital, orphanage, or somewhere else I could be left to be forgotten.

It took me some time to move normally again. Surprisingly, the adults I stayed with allowed me to venture outside. Everywhere I wobbled, someone was there to lend me a hand, despite my silent protest. The people of this place, Aigaion, truly acted very oddly towards me.

            No one introduced themselves to me. They just stood there smiling and saying things like, “I’m so overjoyed that you are alright!” A few reached their arms out to me, but hesitated once they realized my indifferent reaction. The pair whose house I intruded never mentioned moving me elsewhere. I kept waiting for their patience with me to end, especially once I fully recovered, but that time never came.

            I did not mind sharing a room with their son. He seemed to like me, but I wondered why they trusted me so much with their child. He often ran up to me extending his arms forward with a little jump. The most I ever reacted toward him was to gently place my hand on his head. The child would not leave me alone most of the time. He often put his clearly custom-made toys in my lap and pointed. He started leaving them around the house in obvious spaces I would see, so I had to return them. He always gave me the biggest smile as I brought the toys back to his palms.

            Eventually, my caregivers hauled me to an Aigaion meeting. When the four of us entered, the villagers cheered. I guess those two must be some big shots in the community. After everyone gathered, a short measure of silence fell before a clear outsider arrived. Her long black hair dangled over her peculiar clothing that included a hood over her eyes which contrasted the rest of her clothes. The people of Aigaion hung on to every one of her words. Soon she approached me and took me by the hand. The stranger asked me similar questions to the ones I heard when I awoke.

            “Do you remember this village? Your home?” she probed.

            Aigaion did seem familiar. Maybe I visited a few times as a child, but I could not recall much. As for my home, I had no desire to return there. However, my response to her remained the same as always, not a single word left my tongue. The measure of silence resumed as she waited for me to answer anything. Her face painted a strong look of frustration. The stranger clenched her palms and broke the silence in a defeated voice as she turned to face the crowed, “’I’m sorry I failed you.” Then she stormed out and never appeared again to them.

            The man I walked in with approached me and said in a similar tone, “Do you remember me?”

What a weird stranger, I thought. I grew to know him better while staying at his house and looking after his child, but why would someone even ask that question of someone they recently met. Again, I had no intention of angering them, so I replied with silence. The people of Aigaion approached me afterward and reacted similarly. It made me uncomfortable how suddenly everyone around me wanted to help, listen, and spend time with me.

            Eventually, I ended that uncomfortableness. When my wounds left no impression on my body, and I returned to a normal state, I prepared to leave Aigaion. A strong desire dominated my mind. That vital urge begged me to act. I gathered my few belongings from under the bed and began to exit the house without a word. Then, the man stopped me and called for his wife. The thought of them preventing me from leaving frightened me. I sat down with them at the dining table as we shared our last meal. The couple went back and forth discussing my desire to leave. They never even considered a day like this would pass. Eventually, without needing any protest from me, they looked into my eyes and the woman answered, “It is your choice to leave. We will not force you to stay here.”

            “But please do not leave us without saying goodbye!” the man pleaded.

            For the first time since I woke up, I smiled at them. I had no idea such kind people existed. They treated strangers better than family. However, their reaction turned my face back to normal. Both of their facades finally broke and they began crying the same as their son. They tearfully asked, “Are you leaving now?” I nodded in return as I gathered my items. The lady left and returned with a bag of fresh loaves. Without asking she placed them in my bag. After, her husband handed her their son, and picked up my bag. I gestured that I could take it just fine and that he did not need to help.
            However he responded, “It is the least I can do for you.”

            A few others followed the family and me to the gate. When we arrived, I took my bag from the weird stranger. I decided to say something to them, “Thank you.” Then, I smiled out of a habit that escaped my memory and began to open the gate. He replied, “No, thank you for everything. Please come back soon.” After I exited, I heard a thud as he fell to the ground sobbing more than I ever could. His wife ran out to me after I had already stepped a decent distance away. She turned her son toward me, and he waved goodbye, tears swelling in his eyes.

            “Goodbye, Hera!” she screamed as I waved goodbye at a steady pace.

            Outside, the wall displayed a completely different scene than the inside. Many large weapons positioned near the stone walls guarded Aigaion. Unlike the pristine inner walls, the stone that framed the gate presented many streaks of red. I considered it another odd trait of that location. The inside seemed like a peaceful environment, but beyond the walls illustrated something more that remained unknown to me.

I no longer had anywhere I could return to, but a mission captivated my motives. I needed to get stronger, but I could not recollect why. That thought tainted my brain. As I continued to ignore it, the desire morphed into an order. At least I am no longer wandering directionless, I thought. I had a direction to move onward with, but still nowhere to call home. I continued forward past the bridge that pointed to the place behind me. That day, I left Aigaion.

Written By: Rachel Caña

Image Credit

All the World’s a Stage: Part 3

Kandor

“Juna, for Neptune’s sake, shut up,” Kandor snapped.

Juna laughed conspiratorially, hoisting Amily higher up on his back. “Just trying to get to know your girlfriend, Kan.”

            “JUNA.”

            Kessy laughed too. “Kandor, it’s okay, really.”

            “Yeah, you hear that? She said it was fine. Oof!” Amily kicked his ribs gently.

            “Go faster!”

            “Whatever you say, Princess Am.”

            Kandor rolled his eyes, falling in step beside Kessy. “So…how are you? How are you feeling?” He eyed her as discreetly as he could.

            She shrugged sadly. “All right, I guess…all things considered. Happy to be going home.” She glanced at him. “I mean, sorry to leave you all, but—”

            Kandor chuckled. “No, I understand. I just hope we can get you there.”

            They had set out that morning, the five of them. They formed no real plan before leaving, just set a final goal: get Kessy back to the High Court. Kandor resisted bringing his sister along, but Hadassy couldn’t be spared at work, and Kandor refused to let Amily stay home alone, so he recruited Juna to go with them and help with Amily. As always, Sassa padded along faithfully beside him, sometimes dropping back to gaze adoringly up at Juna and Amily.

            “Kandor?” Kessy said after a moment, and Kandor jumped, not expecting her to speak.

            “Yeah?”

            “What happens if we get to the Medial Court and I can’t…you know…get through? Or I get back home and they tell me I’m not supposed to be there?”

            Kandor sucked in a breath. “You mean like, banishment? You think you were banished?” A sudden awful thought crossed his mind: was Kessy a criminal? Was Amily safe?

            He shoved the thought away as quickly as it came. Look at her, he chided himself. Does she look like a criminal to you?

            Juna’s voice laughed at him in his mind. You think she’s cute, don’t you?

            “Shut up, Juna,” Kandor said aloud.

            “I didn’t even say anything!” Juna protested, extracting Amily from his waist, where she clung to him sideways like a vice.
            Kandor shrugged. “Force of habit, sorry. Amily, stop climbing on Uncle Juna.” Amily slid to the ground, apparently boneless. “Why are you doing that?” Kandor asked, watching his sister schlep fluidly along on all fours. Sassa snuffled her hair.

            “I’m being a slug,” came the cantankerous reply.

            “Well, can you be a slug with feet?”

            “No,” Amily said, with a twinge of irritated superiority. “Slugs don’t have feet.”

            “Can you be something else with feet?”

            “No.”

            “Can you—”

            “Slugs also don’t have ears. I can’t hear you.”

            Kandor cast an apologetic smile at Kessy, mouthing, Sorry, she’s sleepy. He could hear Juna suppressing a cackle.

            Kessy smiled back at him, and he noticed the way her upturned eyes crinkled as she did. They were a clear, sparkling blue; he could tell even in the darkness. Stop being an idiot, Kandor, he told himself. As soon as you get her to the Medial Court, you’ll never see her again.

            Juna, abandoning the slug to Sassa’s protective gaze, joined the other two. “So, do we have a plan?”

            “Nope,” Kandor said.

            “I guess we just like…shove her in?” Juna said. Doubtfully.

            No one really knew how the Medial Court worked. Very few were allowed to cross between the Courts, leaving the pathway as a mysterious, sparkling wasteland, filled only with speculation and age-old rumors that more likely than not weren’t even true. But Kessy obviously came from there, so surely, she could go back…right?

            Kandor felt a nagging fear that something else was at play here tugging at the back of Kandor’s mind. Who preserved her as a marble statue, and why? Did that pause her age? How old was she, truly? Did she get here a different way?

            Sassa barked. Kandor turned, noting with displeasure that the slug apparently decided to become simply a stationary blob, barely visible in the darkness. “Amily, come on!”

            “My feet hurt.”

            “I thought slugs didn’t have feet.”

            Amily huffed, annoyed enough by this accusation to stand and join the other three. “Can you carry me?” she asked, barely suppressing a yawn.

            Kandor hid a sigh, also exhausted. “Of course.” He hoisted her up, and she tucked her head onto his shoulder, under his jawbone, like she had a thousand times before.

            “I don’t think we’re too far,” Juna said. “All the maps said it was only about a four hour walk from here.”

            “And how long have we been walking?” Kandor asked, shifting Amily slightly.  

            “Forever,” she said sleepily.

            “Probably about three,” Juna amended, ever the mediator, when he wasn’t intentionally stirring the pot.

            “Only thirty minutes to go,” Kessy said brightly.

            Amily snored.

Nearly an hour later, Kandor felt a shift in the air, nearly tangible in nature. It felt almost cold, but from the inside out. Kessy shivered.

            “This is so strange,” she said, rubbing her arms.

            “I know,” Kandor said.

            Juna nudged him. “Give her your jacket, Kan.”

            “I don’t think that will work, Juna.”

            “Okay, well, when you end up lonely and single forever, don’t blame me.” He danced out of the way before Kandor could swat him.

            “Juna, just because you have a wife doesn’t mean you can—”

            Silence fell across the group. Kandor snapped his mouth closed, suddenly rendered unable to speak. He felt impossibly…empty. Any tiny semblance of color in the darkness faded away to a dull grey or black, swirling away with the energy that snaked around them all. Amily raised her little head.

            “What’s going on?”

            “I think…” Kandor spoke with difficulty, like his throat filled with molasses. “I think…this is the…the Medial Court.”

            Juna coughed, as though doing so would dislodge the thick feeling in his throat.

            “What do we do?” Kessy asked.

            Amily started to cry, haltingly. She buried her face in Kandor’s shoulder.

            “You four can go back,” Kessy gasped. “I never meant for you to—”

            Her voice cut off, and Kandor could just barely make out her form slumping to the ground. “KES—” he started, but black spots suddenly danced across his vision, and he retained just enough sense to set Amily on down before darkness overtook him completely, and he crumpled to the ground.

Kessy

Kessy’s eyes opened slowly, fluttering against a harsh light. She tried to sit up, but a pounding at her temples forced her to lie still. Where am I? she thought wildly.

            Next to her, Kandor groaned. Coughed. Somewhere, Amily started to cry.

            Kessy sat up slowly. “Is…is everyone all right?”

            She heard Kandor shift. “Amily?” he called, panic lacing his voice.

            “Kandor, my head hurts,” Amily wailed piteously, and started to cry. She crawled to him, curling up in his arms. Kessy listened to her soft sobs, her heart breaking for the tiny little soul who never signed up for this.

            Behind them, Juna gasped in pain. “What happened?”

            Kandor stroked Amily’s hair. “Did someone take us?”

            Glancing around the room, Kessy saw now windows, but she didn’t think they were in a cell. Lush, expensive furniture stood at attention throughout the space, and suddenly Kessy knew where she was.

            “This is the Celestial Palace,” she said. “The High Court. This is my home.”

            Juna blew out a sigh of relief. “Oh, well, then, you can tell your people that this was all a big misunders—”

            “I don’t have any people, not really,” Kessy said softly. “This has to be the king’s work. I don’t remember much…but I do remember we didn’t get along very well, there at the end.”

            “You mean, we’re in the king’s custody?” Kandor asked, aghast.

            Kessy nodded miserably. “That’s my best guess.”

            Juna sounded nonplussed. “Well, how do we—”

            The door opened. Two guards entered, followed by a broad, stately man Kessy knew to be Olaris, King of the High Court.

            He regarded her. She met his gaze.

            “Kassiopeia,” he said finally.

            “Your Majesty.”

            Amily cried on and on, and Kandor did his best to soothe her. One of the guards shot him a nasty look and made as if to stalk towards them, but Olaris put his hand on his arm. “At ease, my friend,” he said, his voice dripping with false kindness. “No need for that. They are our honored guests, after all.”

            Juna snorted. “You use ‘honored’ rather loosely around here, apparently.”

            Kessy watched Kandor shoot him an if you will ever shut up when I ask you to, now is the time look, but again, Olaris brushed it off.

            “No, I mean that quite sincerely, Juna Tulsi. Upon my word, you remain our honored guests, treated with the utmost—”

            “Where’s Sassa?” Kandor interrupted at the same time Juna said, “How do you know my name?”

Kandor looked around wildly. “Where is my dog?”

Amily wailed again. “You killed Sassa!”

Olaris held out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Your dog is fine, my dear, I assure you. And as for your question, Juna, I know everything about you all. Especially our precious Kassiopeia here.”

Her blood ran cold. “Why are you doing this? Why did you send me away?” She became increasingly aware that Olaris caused her strange disappearance and was probably behind why she could barely remember anything.

“Why am I doing this? Well, I am nothing if not a showman, my dear, and you and your friends are about to take part of my greatest spectacle yet.”

“What does that mean?”

Olaris spread his arms wide. “Prepare yourself for the role of a lifetime, my dear. The show is about to begin.”

Written by: Caroline Johnson

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Nameless : Chapter 2

“Leave!” the stranger uttered, “Since you have no ties to the village you can flee to safety.” I scoffed at her and said, “This village is not just their home, its mine too; I will never leave my home.” She smiled at me and said, “Then I will definitely need your help.” 

She appeared after the incident that dyed the outside stone walls red and covered my eyes. Her hands directed me back inside, where Eleni smothered me with a tearful hug. When I regained my composure, a tall woman wearing a white ornate cloak that shielded her eyes stood in front of me. Her black hair fell over a note that came from the other side of the gate in her hand. “We have five days,” she stated. Then, the stranger handed the note to Eleni as I remained in her arms. The note stated Dodasa would claim the land in 5 days and to prepare it for their taking. Upon reading, I clenched my hands in rage. 

“I can save you all!” The stranger promised. “But, not without Hera,” she spoke while turning to me. 

She referred to my inventions, the mechanisms I made for the village, the intricate toys I made for Helios, and the weapons Evander taught me how to forge. She called on me to create a defense for Aigaion. I smiled. That’s all I ever wanted to do. The next few days, I poured myself into my mechanisms. I crafted a variety of weapons that were deadly, yet easy to use. Some I had heard of before, like catapults, and others I imbued with my creativity. The violent intent of the weapons I created did not cross my mind, as I saw them as nothing more than defense measures. The stranger gathered the remaining able-bodied adults and trained them on how to use my creations.  

She trained everyone but the sick, elderly, and young to fight. She lumped me in with the young category, so I was useless to her. Because she viewed me as young and weak, I had to get on my knees and beg, “Let me fight with the others!” The outsider denied me, no matter how much I pleaded. Though, she allowed me to be there when training started to show them how everything worked. However, she pushed me away from her lessons after, my face tightened up in frustration. The object of my desire stood as the only action the village forbade me from pursuing. I wanted to fight. I wanted to get stronger. I wanted to protect my home. That desire stayed unfulfilled because Evander, Eleni, and this new outsider denied it. Knowing my wish, they put me under watch to ensure that it would never come to pass.  

They forgot about the years of masterful evasion that brought me to them. Despite their restrictions, I disobeyed their cruel orders. I would not let them stop me from fulfilling my purpose. I trained due to my many memories of grief for the corpses we buried. I fondly reminisced about Dimitris reprimanding Colin for not following Ajax’s instructions closely and using me as an example for someone who earnestly listened to every lesson. Ajax used to praise my form and will to fight while forcefully pulling me back to Evander. They called my name and encouraged me, despite not wanting me to join their fight.  

“Hera, you are the most determined citizen of Aigaion, but you are not a warrior,” Ajax would repeat again and again.  

“I can fight. I can become a warrior like them. I will prove them wrong,” I whispered to myself. I continued to increase my strength whenever I could. I did not know if my tears came from reliving those memories or the searing pain from my fingers clutching the sword I swung for hours. Everyday before the next calamity, I worked the best I could no matter the toll. Despite my hand wanting to peel off, I continued with glee. I needed to get stronger. I needed to stop feeling defenseless. I needed to protect the family who named me.  

Eventually, Evander allowed me to exit the gate again. I brought an old stool to prop up next to the gate and just reminisce for a little bit. I placed my hand on the red stone walls, questioning where those two last stood. We already buried all the corpses but had yet to hold a ceremony or decorate graves. I wondered what their final thoughts might have been. The sound of Evander hauling over a couple of my heavier defense mechanisms ended my short break. In preparation for the Day of Calamity, the people of Aigaion equipped the walls with my weapons. 

Finally, the Day of Calamity arrived. Everyone stood ready to defend our home, even though death knocked at the door. Dodasa crossed the bridge, expecting us to sit defenseless while they carved their name into our land. The horns screamed the same as before. Our guardian, the stranger, directed everyone to their positions. I took Helios from Eleni as she left to fight with Evander. Before she left, she kissed both our foreheads and whispered, “Hera, Helios, my children, I love you. Everything will be okay. We will protect you.” I loved hearing my name. Of all the words she said, “Hera,” made me smile the most. I ran with Helios in my arms and left him with the elders as I again pursued the gate. I laid down the infant I had cared for as a brother for the last time and left the safe zone to fight. I fulfilled my task of getting everyone not fighting to safety, except me. 

No one stood in my way this time, as everyone who could fought outside the walls. I grabbed my sword and lunged to defend my home. I readied myself for this since the beginning of the conflict. I wished to stand with Colin and Dimitris at the gates of the village and guard it with them. That wish can never be granted now. Like Colin and Dimitris, I aimed to get stronger and stronger to protect our most valuable home. I think I understand what they must have thought on the day I last saw them; “Even if I die here, all my efforts were worth protecting this place.” 

Outside the gates existed a river of bloodshed. The weapons I created hit many of Dodasa’s men, and they contemplated retreat. I stood on the battlefield among our newly trained warriors. However, when Evander saw me, he attempted to bring me back to the gate once more, but I ran from him into the enemy. “Hera! Stay back!” he yelled. I smiled, “I will not!” as I finally got to protect Aigaion with my own hands.  

Upon my entry, I disrupted everyone’s rhythm with their shock of a child coming to the rescue. My eyes met those of our guardian. Her face showed a horrified expression, not the reaction I imagined. Evander and Eleni went hysterical. I continued to swing my blade at the enemies, forcing them away from the gate. Suddenly, a hand grabbed onto me and interrupted my movements. The hand belonged to Evander. He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to face him. He cried, “Hera! You don’t understand! We are not fighting to protect Aigaion or our land. We are protecting you.” The enemies surrounding us began to run away as the familiar sound of one of my projectiles played. I reacted. I pushed Evander as hard as I could and sent him flying a couple feet away from me. The last thing I heard was his scream, “Hera!” 

Battle’s End 

After Dodasa completely retreated, everyone regrouped and celebrated. I approached Evander and Eleni curled over the frame of Aigaion’s savior. Unfortunately, I failed as their guardian. Her eyes remained shut, but her heart still sang. Evander carried the girl back inside the walls for Eleni to address her wounds. They laid her in her bed waiting for her to smile again. As I followed them, I apologized, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep my promise.” Aigaion won at a cost. Surprisingly that cost was not life. Not even a single causality could be reported, but Hera was gone.  

Written By: Rachel Caña

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All the World’s a Stage: Part 2

Kessy 

Her eyes opened slowly, fluttering, unused to the dark. Where am I? What happened? Where is the sun?  

“Are you okay?” She realized someone was addressing her, and she turned her head, focusing her gaze on the boy in front of her. 

“Where am I?” she asked before her legs collapsed beneath her.  

The boy lunged for her, unable to reach her in time. She hit the ground hard, the jolt somehow simultaneously waking her up and deadening her senses again. Blearily, she realized the boy was throwing himself down beside her, cradling her gently. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you—Sassa, down!”  

Something wet and fuzzy shoved itself in her face, and she realized a dog was snuffling at her, presumably making sure she wasn’t a danger to the boy who had saved her. Then the dog licked her gently, and she smiled.  

“Are you all right?” the boy asked. He had a nice face—square and angular with kind eyes. She couldn’t make out the color—she couldn’t make out much of anything in the dark. Was she in the Lower Court? How did she get here? 

“I…I don’t know,” she murmured.  

“Can you tell me your name?” His voice was gentle. Soothing. She found herself trusting him, even though she didn’t know if she should.  

“Kassiopeia—I mean, Kessy,” she said.  

The boy chuckled. “Which is it?” 

“I go by Kessy.” 

He helped her sit up a bit more. “Well, Kessy, my name is Kandor, and you’ve already met Sassa. She’s friendly, don’t worry.” 

Kessy rubbed Sassa’s silky ears absently, trying to remember back. What happened before? She knew she came from the High Court, but to her horror, she couldn’t remember why—or how—she left.  

Kandor must have noticed the fear in her eyes. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll help you. You’re safe here.”  

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be here,” Kessy said.  

“How did you get here?” 

“I don’t know.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t remember anything.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I have to get home!” 

Kandor stood with her. “I’ll take you home, Kessy. Where…where is home?” 

She looked up, searching futilely for a sun she knew wasn’t there. “I’m…from the High Court, Kandor. I don’t belong here.” 

Kessy dared a look into Kandor’s eyes. He looked as surprised as she felt. “The High Court? You shouldn’t even be allowed to pass through the Medial Court to here.” 

“I know.” A tear dripped off of her cheek, and Kandor must have been able to see it, because he rested his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll fix this, Kessy.”  

She looked up at him gratefully. “How?” 

He gave her a lopsided smile. “Not sure yet. I’ll figure something out; I always do. For now, why don’t you come home with me? Get something to eat, maybe sleep for a while. Tomorrow, I promise, I’ll help bring you home.” 

Kessy hesitated. Every instinct she had told her not to follow a stranger in a strange land back to his house—not to eat his food or indulge in any kind of his hospitality. But Kandor seemed genuine. His hand on her shoulder was gentle and reassuring. And Sassa didn’t seem cautious with her at all.  

She relented. “Okay…thank you…”  

He winked at her. “Sure thing. Can you walk?” 

Kessy gingerly took a step forward, then another. Pain shot up her legs, the spidery kind of discomfort one feels after sitting on their foot for too long. She took a deep breath and tried again. The pain flared sharply, then diminished. “Yes.” 

“You sure?” 

Kessy nodded. “Let’s just…go slow.” 

Kandor clicked his tongue for Sassa, who had wandered off, sniffing along the leave-covered floor, no doubt looking for bugs to consume. “Come on, girl.” Sassa abandoned her hunt and padded faithfully back to Kandor, and he worried her head between his hands affectionately. “Keep your hand on Sassa’s head,” he told Kessy. “She’ll follow me.” 

Kessy let her fingers rest on Sassa’s golden head, scratching the soft fur gently. Kandor turned, and Sassa followed her boy, guiding Kessy out of the dark forest and into the deepness of the night beyond.  

Kandor, it turned out, lived in a small apartment on a university campus. “They pay for my housing while I’m a student here, because I care for my sister full-time,” he explained. “Sorry, it’s pretty tight.” 

“I don’t mind.” Kessy craned her neck, studying the towering spiers above her. “How old is your sister?” 

“She’s five,” Kandor said, and Kessy didn’t miss the love in his voice. “Our parents died when she was three, so it’s just the two of us.” He backtracked. “Well, that’s not entirely true. My best friend and his wife help a lot. They don’t technically live with us, but they might as well,” he added with a smirk.  

“What’s her name? Your sister, I mean.” 

“Amily.” He flashed her that crooked smile again. “And she’s a handful. Just letting you know. I’ll tell her to behave.” 

“No, I don’t mind,” Kessy said, a smile turning up her lips again.  

“All right, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Kandor knocked on the door, rapping a short beat that Kessy guessed was their special code. After a few minutes, the door unlocked and opened, and Amily stood there, frowning. 

“You’re late.”  

Kandor chuckled, scooping her up. “Sorry, Ami. I got a little distracted.”  

Amily glanced over his shoulder. “Who is that?” 

“Ah yes, the distraction in question. Amily, this is Kessy; Kessy, this is Amily. Say hi, Ami.” 

“Hi,” Amily said, “Your hair is pretty.”  

“Thank you,” Kessy said, blushing slightly. “So is yours.” 

Amily had the wispy curls of a toddler just growing into childhood, the same brown as her brother. Her eyes, huge and luminous, almost perfectly matched Kandor’s, grey and sparkling. She bore a contented air about her, probably due to a life with nothing more than her brother’s love and a tiny suite to grow up in. She didn’t know how to want more.  

“Where did you come from?” Amily asked, her face scrunched in confusion.  

“Amily, you can’t just ask that,” Kandor scolded, but Kessy laughed.  

“No, she’s fine. I came from the High Court.” 

Amily’s already round eyes grew even rounder. “Really? Where the sunshine is?” 

Kessy nodded, realizing just how much she took eternal daylight for granted.  

“What does it look like?” Amily’s voice was soft. Full of wonder. 

“Well…” How did one describe what they considered monotonous? Normal? “The colors are so bright, all the time. And it’s warm. The buildings sparkle. The water is so blue and so clear, you can see all of the fish swimming in it.” 

Amily’s mouth was open. “Wow. I want to go—Kandor, can I go back with her? When she leaves?” 

Kandor’s smile was sad. “I don’t think so, Ami girl. I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s not safe.” 

Amily sighed, resting her head down on her brother’s shoulder. “You say that about everything.” 

Kandor met Kessy’s gaze, and she could see how sad it made him to say no to his sister. “What’s the moon like, Amily?” Kessy asked, changing the subject, and Amily haltingly described a night with a full moon as Kandor led them all inside.  

The suite was small but cozy, with a door off to the side that Kessy supposed was the bedroom. Kandor set Amily up on the counter and busied himself with getting them dinner.  

“Can I help?” Kessy asked.  

Kandor smirked at her. “Nope.”  

She smiled back and leaned against the counter next to Amily, listening to the two of them chatter back and forth as Kandor prepped their meal.  

“What did you do today, Amily?” 

“Aunt Hadda came by today and made me lunch.” 

“That’s Hadassy, my best friend Juna’s wife,” Kandor explained to Kessy. 

“And she made me take a nap.” Amily wrinkled her nose. “Uncle Juna never makes me take a nap.” 

“It’s good for you. Don’t touch this, it’s hot.” He moved a pan off of the stove. 

“I’m too big for naps.” Amily stood up, wobbling slightly.  

“No one is too big for naps.” Expertly, he set the pan down with one hand and pulled her back down to a seated position with the other. “Sit.”  

Amily plopped back down dejectedly. “Are you?” 

“Stars, no. I could take a nap right now if I tried.” He smiled at Kessy.  

Remembering they had a guest, Amily turned to her. “How old are you? I’m five.” 

Kessy ruffled her curls. “I’m eighteen.” 

Amily thought for a moment. “Kandor is nineteen. Why are you down here instead of up where the sun is?” 

Kessy hesitated. “I…don’t know.” 

Kandor cut in here. “That’s what we’re going to find out. I…found her in the woods tonight.” 

“Can you not remember?” Amily slowed down on the word remember, and Kessy guessed it was a word she was learning.  

Kessy shook her head sadly. “No, I can’t.” 

“Oh.” Amily scooted a bit closer. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I’m…sure I will, eventually.”  

Kandor helped his sister off of the counter. “Time to eat.” 

Amily clamored up into her chair and watched Kandor ladle soup into her bowl. “Blow on it first,” Kandor instructed.  

“Why?” 

“Remember how you burned your tongue last week?” 

“Oh, yes.” Amily blew loudly on her soup while Kandor served Kessy.  

“Careful, it’s hot,” he said, almost as an afterthought. Kessy supposed he said that to Amily at nearly every meal. He probably didn’t even realize he said it.  

“Thank you,” she said softly. Shyly. She felt her blush creep up again.  

“Sure.” Kandor sat down and ladled soup into his own bowl, only to be interrupted by the door opening again. “Stars’ sakes, Juna.” 

“Hi, all!” came a cheery voice, and then someone new strode into the room. He was tall, taller than Kandor, with light brown hair. He punched Kandor in the shoulder, dropped a kiss on Amily’s head, and paused when he saw Kessy. “Kandor, did you bring home a g—” 

Kandor smacked him. “No, I did not. Kessy, this is Juna. Juna, shut up.” He was beet red.  

“Hellewwww, Kessy,” Juna said, shaking her hand dramatically. “You should know that you are the first girl Kandor has ever brought home.” 

“Juna was just leaving,” Kandor said tightly. 

“Juna was not just leaving.” Juna pulled out a chair and sat beside Kessy. “Tell me everything about yourself, Kessy.” 

“Juna,” Kandor warned, raising his voice in pleading emphasis on the last syllable. Amily giggled, reaching over to smack him too.  

Juna clutched his heart. “Even Amily turns on me.” 

Kessy smiled, watching them all interact. “It’s really not what you think,” she said.  

Kandor jumped on this. “Hear that, Juna, you bonehead? It’s not what you think.” 

“It never is, is it?” Juna propped his chin on his fists, looking at Kessy intently. “Well? Details.” 

“I…wish I had details to give.” She really did. She liked Juna. “I’m from the High Court but I don’t know why I’m here.” 

Juna sucked in a breath. “What?” 

Kessy sighed, looking down at her bowl. “I’m just as confused as you are.” 

Kandor kicked Juna underneath the table. “That’s all we know.” She saw him give Juna a pointed look, like Not in front of the child.  

Juna paused, then cleared his throat. “Well then, Kessy from the High Court, let me be the first to say welcome to the void that is the Lower Court. I hope you enjoy your stay. Stars know the rest of us don’t.”