Chapter 27 Jane
The prince and I sailed through the clouds on Mir’s back, gliding above the northeastern landscape of Aurath for an hour.
Below us, thick woodlands of towering evergreen trees stretched endlessly, filling the air with a rich, piney scent that drifted high above the land.
The aroma was fresh and invigorating, awakening every sense in me as I jittered with excitement, eager and impatient to discover where Glade was taking me.
At last, a large village on the edge of a crystal-clear lake came into view.
As Mir descended, the details of the town sharpened, revealing grand wooden and stone structures lining paved gravel roads.
In the distance to the south, another flight field was visible, bustling with travelling vessels of all sizes.
Mir landed elegantly in a pasture to the north of the town, careful not to disturb the daily tasks of its citizens. As we dismounted, sliding down her side, Glade guided me step by step, ensuring I didn’t tumble clumsily as I had the last time.
“What is this place?” I questioned Glade as my boots landed on smooth grass, my gaze fixed on the vibrant town just ahead.
Glade untied his pack from Mir’s side and replied, “Okevaal, a large town in northeastern Britavon. Lots of good people live here.”
I smirked as Glade led me across the field. He was clearly keeping his plans vague, and though I had no idea why we’d stop in an Ornathian town if we were meant to see Domus, I didn’t mind. The curiosity and excitement pulled me along for the ride.
Jogging to keep up with his long strides, I pressed, “Okay…but why are we in Okevaal?”
Glade only glanced back over his shoulder with a mischievous grin. “You’ll see.”
Okevaal reminded me much of Britavon, though here, rather than marble, stone was used consistently throughout the town’s layout.
Civilians went about their daily chores, and children played happily in the paved streets, much as they did in Glade’s hometown.
Once again, I was struck by the peacefulness of a society unburdened by violence and destruction.
The residents of Okevaal paid us little attention. Few even recognized us as outsiders; our clothing blended in with their own. It was a welcome relief, to be invisible for a little while, to walk within the shadows of a place where no one knew who we were.
Glade and I strolled through the streets, our footsteps crunching over the rust-coloured leaves that lined the ground. The crisp air reminded me of home, of perfect fall days back on Earth when I was a child. I could almost feel the thrill of piling up leaves and leaping into them.
At last, Glade came to a stop in front of a grand, tiled building along a bustling commercial road. He turned to face me, an infectious, wide beaming smile animatedly spreading across his face.
“Are you ready?” he eagerly asked me, though we obviously hadn’t come all this way for me to say no.
I stared at the building, utterly perplexed as to how this large, stately structure could reveal anything about Domus, a planet long since destroyed. “I don’t understand.”
Glade began climbing the many steps toward the building’s grand entrance.
He halted before the massive black doors, spinning to face me with his arms spread wide at his sides.
“This is the Planetary Memoriam. A museum honouring all the fallen Celestial bodies of the universe. Inside, you’ll find exhibits for each planet drained by the Tenebrae.
It’s a place for remembrance, where we honour our lost worlds and pledge never to forget them. ”
I felt my jaw drop as I gaped at the museum in dumbfounded awe. My heart was filled with emotion, an exhilarating mixture of happiness and yearning, leaving me completely speechless. I could only beam at Glade as I was overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of his surprise.
Glade’s eyebrows knitted together as he tried his best to feign a smile. His words were soft, each one infused with kindness and care. “There’s an exhibit for Domus,” he said, allowing me time to digest the significance of his admittance.
I glanced between the grand building and him, feeling a surge of passion rise within me. “Glade…”
However, he only extended his hand, patiently waiting for me to reach for it on my own terms. Without a moment’s hesitation, I stepped forward, my fingers interlacing with his, fitting naturally as if they had been made for one another.
Hand in hand, we entered the Planetary Memoriam, ready to discover Domus—together.
The museum was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
The vast hall was divided into smaller squared-off sections, each dedicated to a Celestial body that no longer existed.
At the heart of each square floated a massive, realistic hologram, displaying each lost planet as it had once been, recreated with perfectly precise detail.
Before each display stood a console with a touchscreen, allowing visitors to explore every aspect of the planet.
With the swipe of a finger, the guest could zoom in or out, search for information, or adjust settings to view the Celestial from any angle.
A robotic, synthesized female voice read aloud each word on the screen, ensuring that every visitor, regardless of ability, could engage with and enjoy the exhibits.
Scattered throughout the museum were a handful of patrons moving quietly and reverently. Occasionally, the sound of a soft sniffle echoed throughout the soaring ceilings.
Glade and I wordlessly drifted from exhibit to exhibit, pausing to absorb the stories of each lost world.
Though the museum was a place of learning, an unshakable sorrow lingered in the air, a solemn weight that seemed woven into the walls, a testament to the countless lives and histories extinguished by the ever-present evil vaporizing the universe.
After a short while, Glade and I reached the hologram that floated above the label Domus.
My heart nearly stopped beating. There, only paces before me, was a lifelike rendering of my one true home as it had been before its evisceration. I’d never imagined I would be able to see Domus like this, an illusion so real I could almost feel the warmth of its sun and smell the salty ocean air.
I moved little by little toward the display, one foot in front of the other, feeling unsteady, as if this glimpse of my lost home were a dream I could unwillingly awaken from. Glade stayed close to my side, matching my pace and resting a reassuring hand on the small of my back.
“Domus was a beautiful planet, Jane,” he stated, as if sensing the shivering nervousness plaguing my bones. He was already studying the hologram, taking in the vibrant landscape that once was.
The world was a tropical paradise. One half of the massive planet was locked in perpetual sunlight, while the other was cast in endless darkness.
But the sunlit side thrived, an oasis of lush palm trees, deserts, and endless beaches.
It reminded me of the Caribbean Islands of Earth; the kind of place people would escape to when life became too heavy—a utopia in every sense.
As I absorbed the breathtaking sight of Domus, Glade proceeded toward the touchscreen console. But he lingered there, silently reassuring me that this journey was mine to take. With a nod, I stepped up to the controls, eager to explore every inch of my home.
I started by zooming in on each of the six continents, their coastlines outlined by vast, pristinely turquoise oceans.
Beneath the water’s surface, enormous marine animals, reminiscent of Earth’s whales, swam harmoniously together in pods.
Overhead, humongous birds with wingspans larger than a minivan soared above the waves.
It was perfect.
I tapped the option to activate the voice-guided tour.
Instantly, the narration filled the square, detailing the world of Domus with clarity.
I listened closely as the artificial intelligence described each continent, painting a vivid picture of the landscapes and cultures that once thrived there.
When it reached the final continent in the far south, the descriptions adjusted slightly, moving into a comprehensive account of the complex feudalistic system that had governed the planet.
“There, in the continent of Denedia, was the capital of Domus, Elatia, where the royal family had served under their Goddess Amantius’ beckoning for thousands of years.”
The guide zoomed into a breathtaking view of Elatia, perched along the ocean’s edge. Inside the city’s sprawling walls, a towering opal palace shimmered in the light. Around it, the clay buildings wove together into a lively hub, filled with bustling merchants and seafaring traders.
“Before the fall of Domus,” the voice continued, “King Abbas XII ruled for nearly two decades alongside his wife, Ina, and their newborn daughter, Amicamea.”
Everything froze. Time folded inward, my thoughts racing as if a hundred trains were whirring past my view.
Did I hear that right?
I looked at Glade, who was still deeply engrossed in the tale, one arm crossed over his stomach, his other hand resting on his chin. He hadn’t grasped the revelation that had just sent my mind in a downward spiral.
“Wait!” I shouted, slapping the console screen until the device shut off.
Glade turned to me, puzzled as to why I had interrupted such a fascinating lesson.
But my vision was spinning, my mind consumed by a voice that echoed relentlessly through my memory. Amantius’ voice, her words reverberant as if spoken directly into my soul.
Amicamea. The Last Daughter of Domus. Daughter of Abbas and Ina. I see you. I have watched you.
I staggered backwards towards the wall behind me, my pulse pounding in my chest, my breath coming in short, jagged bursts. Before I knew it, my back hit the tile, and I sank to the floor, drawing my knees to my chest as I tried to calm myself, cradling them like a lifeline.
“Jane!” Glade panicked as he rushed to my side, kneeling and holding my body upright. “Are you alright?”
“I’m the princess,” I said to the ever-growing void of time and space that engulfed my surroundings. Both my mind and eyes wandered into the distance, as if they had been lost and would never return.
“Jane!” Glade’s voice cracked as he moved in front of me to grip my cheeks within his hands. “Jane, look at me!”
I barely heard him. The words slipped from my lips in a dazed rustle. “I’m the princess,” I murmured, my gaze still adrift, somewhere far beyond the museum’s walls.
Glade shook his head. “What? What did you just say?”
My sanity gradually returned, the fog of shock lifting as my eyes concentrated to meet Glade’s. His face was just inches from mine, his ocean-blue eyes fixed on me, intense and searching, beseeching me for answers.
I spoke in a slow, monotone voice, the words were not my own, but something I was merely repeating. “Amicamea. The Last Daughter of Domus. Daughter of Abbas and Ina. I see you. I have watched you.”
It took a moment, but then Glade’s eyes widened as the bombshell erupted in his brain. His breath caught in his throat as he inhaled sharply.
“My name is Amicamea, and I am the Princess of Domus.”