CHAPTER 4
“Only a true Deskyiara can understand the words from the Gods. The Book of Azure will be scorched by fire every time someone tries to read the words. Only those who are bound by the bloodline from the descendant of the God of Fire can see. One day, the book shall burn to ash, leaving no trace of what the Gods have promised the Realms.” - Book of Azure
THE WOODEN CHAIR CREAKS AS I hesitantly take a seat.
My heart pounds in my chest as my hands nervously fidget in my lap in anticipation. Did she call me here? I am no Queen. Just an ordinary girl who grew up at the fishing markets with Tilly and Alice.
Florian sits across from me, his ember eyes lingering on me with suspicion. And anger. His jaw ticks as his nostrils flare, focusing on nothing else but me. As if he thinks I would hurt her. Which I wouldn’t. Who is she to him, anyway?
I just need answers. And this Prince just might have led me straight to the truth I have been seeking.
The old lady hums as she walks back into the kitchen, the sweet melody filling the small cabin once again.
Her eyes glance from my worried eyes to the magenta herbs she grabs from an old wooden pot, carefully placing them in a bowl before ripping them apart.
Her wrinkled face lights up, a soft smile forming along her lips, almost as if she knew I would be here.
As if she has been waiting for me.
I wait patiently. There is no escaping the Prince, no escaping this world, but the answers I seek are so close. My leg bounces, heel tapping against the wooden floor as my eyes drift around the cottage. Avoiding Florian’s death stare.
His gaze clings to me, prickling my skin with unease. My shoulders tense, and a chill creeps down my spine as I try to focus on anything else.
As I glance around, the walls of the cabin are adorned with delicate olive-green vines and herbs, carefully selected and hung from the wooden ceiling.
Sunlight streams through the windows, morning once again, and illuminates the rusted pots filled with colorful flowers on the windowsill.
My eyes burn with exhaustion. The sweet scent of violet and lavender drifts through the crack in the glass.
I inhale a deep breath, savoring the moment, the peacefulness before everything burns.
Sitting here, I should fear this place. Fear her. Fear him.
Yet somehow, all the chaos of this world melts away, replaced by an eerie calmness that leaves me feeling unable to move…
unable to comprehend how I am even here.
A sense of home. No matter the beauty of this place, I cannot ignore Florian's incessant tapping of his finger against his muscular thigh, a constant reminder of the tension building within him.
Building between us.
She finally takes one more look at the both of us, taking a deep breath before speaking in a soft and gentle voice.
“Long ago,” she clears her throat, “there was a prophecy about the coming of the lost Royal who would unite all realms and defeat the darkness that threatens our universe. Known as our traveler. The true Queen.”
Florian stands, a low growl emitting from the depths of his throat, but the woman holds up her hand, eyebrows raised, ordering him to sit.
“Those tales are a lie!” he spits, and I can feel the raging fire burning inside him.“You know she will never return to us! She is dead!”
“Are they, boy?” Her head tilts to the side, waiting for him to respond, but to my surprise, he doesn’t.
“As I was saying,” her wrinkled eyelids lift up from him to glance out the window, “the woman who carries the dark, midnight sky on her head and holds the brightness of the realms through her eyes, will be a light to the darkness that the realms have become since the Royal bloodlines vanished. Her skin will be marked by five birthmarks. Each mark represents the realms that create our universe, representing the Gods who have chosen us to be here. But most importantly, she is the one who will unite the stones of the ancient sword and defeat the true beast, bringing peace at last.”
My trembling hands can't stop rubbing against each other, a nervous habit I developed as a child. I scan the room, taking in my surroundings before my eyes land on Florian, standing tall with a stoic expression. I try to ignore his presence and focus on the door, secretly plotting my escape plan.
I am no savior.
I am no queen. She has mistaken me.
My mind races with thoughts of sprinting through the doors and freeing the horses from the trees. I may not know where to go, but I'll find a way back home somehow.
“The people of this Realm have been waiting years for the chosen one to appear. And now you stand before us,” she says while looking directly into my eyes.
My eyes flicker, desperate to avoid the tense gaze of the woman, but it's no use.
“What makes you think it's me?” I ask hesitantly as the insane possibility of this starts creeping up inside of me again. There’s no way I am a Queen.
“You wear the marks upon your skin.” She walks over to me, leaning her hip against the table. Florian rushes to her side, grabbing under her arm as she makes her way over to me and lifts her aged fingers up to glide upon my cheek. “And there they are. Right under your eye.”
“None of this is true,” I softly say. I lift my hand and run my fingertips over the soft, unblemished skin on my cheek. She circles around me, crouching down and steadying herself on the edge of my chair.
“That is where you are wrong. You have forgotten… everything.” Her voice drops to a raspy whisper. Florian’s veins bulge from his neck as he rips his glare from me, his eyes narrowing into slits while he stares at the sun that rises up out the worn window.
“And there are the eyes. I had a dream once about your eyes.” She stares at them, almost as if she can see my life through them. “They have lightened over the years, haven’t they? I remember them being darker when you were just born.”
Her gaze softens, a gentle smile tugging in the corner of her lip. But her eyes that bore into me feel as if a lifetime has passed by and she has watched over me my whole life. Almost as if my life is playing through my eyes and she is watching it all.
But nothing makes sense.
“You were not raised here.” She reaches her hands up to my cheek, cupping my face. “You were raised by a man who rescued you and your sister. I see him. I see your sister in you. You two have always resembled your mother. You had a beautiful life but you have no memories of the truth.”
My body tenses as I stand up and gently remove her hands from my face. “Where is my sister?”
Her head hesitantly shakes. “I no longer see her through your eyes.”
“What does that mean!” My voice cracks.
Her leathery lips part to speak, but shut just as fast.
“What does that mean!” I grab her shoulders delicately.
The dull thud of Florian's worn boots echoes through the room as he leaves the two of us, each step he takes against the cold, wooden floor reverberating, creaking the old wood as he heads to the door. With every movement of his, my jaw clenches, fear stabbing at my heart as I wonder what he might do. Suddenly he halts, tilting his head to the ceiling. His fingers tussle through his hair and he rubs his chin before he lets out a deep sigh. He doesn’t hide his feelings very well.
I can read him like an open book.
He doesn’t believe what the woman is saying. Well, lucky for him, neither do I.
My eyes are drawn to him though, tracing his every movement as if pulled by an unseen force.
I can sense that his mind is elsewhere, far away from what is happening in this room, adrift in a sea of thoughts far beyond my reach. His hand instinctively finds its way to his chest, resting over his heart as if trying to slow its rapid beats.
His eyelids flutter close, shutting out the world around him.
When they reopen, a darkness appears in his eyes that wasn't there before.
He reaches under his worn-out shirt and retrieves a pendant, pressing it against his lips in a tender kiss before nestling it back into its hidden sanctuary beneath his shirt.
He adjusts the shoulder piece of his scale-like armor with practiced ease.
“Florian?” I call out to him.
He cocks his head to the side. “You may call me, Prince Florian.”
My jaw tightens, the lump in my throat thickening. What the hell have I done to him now? I didn’t ask for any of this.
His massive, veiny hand lingers on the doorknob for just a moment longer than necessary before his attention is back on us.
“She isn’t her. I would know if she were the lost princess from Eekatia.” His eyes trace me up and down. “Her hair was piercing blonde as a baby.”
The elder lets go of my face and walks over to him gracefully.
“What happened to you? Why have you been so blind?” She reaches up to him, her hands barely touching his shoulders. He gazes softly down to her as he shifts away.
“We need to go.” His eyes snap toward me, opening the door and heading out into the morning light.
“You need to go to your father first, Florian.” The tone in the woman’s voice shifts into a deep, low bellow.
He stops abruptly, tilting his head so that every muscle in my body tenses with unease. His eyes ignite with ember flakes, glowing fiercely just like when we were fleeing for our lives.
He presses his tongue against his cheek before releasing a guttural growl. "What the hell did you just say to me?”
“You need to take her under the ice, she needs the stone. It is time for you to come face to face with him after all these years.”
He shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I will do no such thing.”
“Take her to the underground tunnels, past the castle…”
He interrupts her. “Where the waterfall meets the sea.”
She gracefully nods. “You remember.” A soft smile presses against her aged cheeks as she walks towards him. “I’m surprised.”
“How could I forget?” His eyes glance over to me. “But I cannot take her to the archives. She won’t be able to walk through.”
“That's where you are wrong.” She sighs. “I would have never thought you would be one of the few who wouldn’t believe.”
His brows narrow in. “Because I would feel it in my bones if it were her.”
“But you need to feel it in your heart.” She grabs his hands, lifting them up to give a soft kiss before releasing them and walking back over to the kitchen. “Bring her to him.”
“He will know I came to see you,” Prince Florian growls, his hand slamming against the wooden door with a thunderous force that makes me jump in fear. I watch in wide-eyed terror as the elder remains unfazed by his aggression. “It is treason to come see you!”
The woman continues to break apart herbs. “And yet you came.”
A low noise rumbles in his throat, and he presses his lips into a thin line. His eyes still burn with an intense fury as his fists clench tightly, causing his veins to swell against his skin. But he remains quiet as if he knows everything she is saying is right.
Her weary eyes lift to meet his. “You knew I would know something… you just don't like the answer you sought.”