The Beginning (an on going story i'm writing)

[kittywitch]

[[Ok, so before i dive into this and post a ton of stuff, let me say this: I've never had any real training in writing, past high school English class. I do it because I enjoy it. I'm sure there will be grammatical errors... I'm dead certain of it in-fact. I would prefer if these were pointed out in a pm rather than on this thread. I say this because it's happened to me before. I posted a story and someone copied it, pointing out every single error of the story. *takes a deep breath* ok, here we go...This story can also be found .. And, as shouldn't have to be said, This entire thing is ©Jessica Gunn (me) ]]


Prologue

Cassandra was a girl, of no particular significance. She was raise with her mother and father, brother and sister in a house inside town. Her eyes were a bluish grey that never seemed to sparkle, her hair was a reddish-blonde, as if bleached by the sun, and her skin was pale, the only coloring to it, were the blotched freckles here and there.

She went to school, just like every other boy and girl her age, and got Bs and Cs, better than her brother, worse than her sister. Every day she would come home, do her chores, and then read a book, or something else equally, seemingly, boring.

But it was while she was reading these books, her nose buried deep within the text, that she truly became her own being.

Chapter One

Cassandra knew the owner of the bookstore by name, and was regularly found perusing through the books on the shelves. When new inventory came in, it was as if she got the pick of the litter, so to say, before any other customers got to see what was available.

On the first Saturday of the month, every month, Cassandra would take the books that she had gotten over the past month, and already read (which was usually all of them) and took them in to trade with the owner of said store. She treated the books as if the were made of gold, so the owner was always happy to trade with her, marking the books as used, but selling them for the same price they would be normally, as they were in such good condition, or perhaps a dollar or so off, depending on how many times the girl had read them over the past few weeks (though, to be honest, some of the books looked somehow better than they did when they arrived in the store).

It was upon one of these Saturdays that the story truly begins. Cassandra waited eagerly by the door of the bookstore. It was still very early morning, when most children would still be asleep, but Cassandra waited, bouncing on the balls of her feet, for the door to open. Watching the clock inside, she counted down the minutes; 5, 4, 3, 2, 30 seconds, 10 seconds. Right on time, as if an alarm would have gone off otherwise, the owner of the store opened the door, letting the eager girl into its confines.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” he asked, looking through his spectacles down towards her, noticing that she had grown.

“Mr. Thomas, If I was not here when you opened, how would I know that you were ok?” she asked, setting down the book bag full of books on a nearby counter. Cassandra had known Mr. Alan Thomas for as long as she could remember. He was her godfather, perhaps not by her mother’s choice, but her own. She thought of him as family and over the past few months had started to become a bit concerned when he slowly started to have a cough that seemed to never go away.

“Well, this is true” Mr. Thomas said, moving to the stool behind the counter to look over the books that she had returned and to scan them back into his computer so that they were back in the inventory. Looking up, he looked at Cassandra, browsing the table with the new books, the ever-so-rare sparkle present in her eyes.

Cassandra slowly passed by the books, looking at the three rows facing her, knowing that there were three more rows facing the other direction. Her hand lifted, running over the covers one by one, as if reading them from the outside, feeling for whether she would enjoy a book or not. This was a ritual she had every month, as the new books came in.

Time passed as the old books were scanned in, and the new books were meticulously looked over once, twice, three times. Something wasn’t right, Cassandra thought to herself, before moving back towards the counter, looking up at the elderly man who sat behind it, waiting to be called upon to help with something, or for a customer to come in and purchase or order a book. He smiled down at the girl who cocked her head to the side “Mr. Thomas,” she started, her brow furrowing as if something was terribly wrong “you’re missing one.” She said this, matter-of-factly, leaving no room for question.

“AH!” The older man said, a twinkle showing in his pale green eyes as he stood, his energy fooling any who might try and guess his age. “One came in that I wanted to keep especially for you.” He said, moving towards the back of the store.

Cassandra had been in the back once or twice, helping carry heavier boxes and other such things to help out after hours. Mr. Thomas had never had much problem with her, so he let her work around the store with him, doing little things of course: sweeping the entranceway of leaves in the fall; helping decorate for the winter festivals; putting up announcements for activities going on around the store. But this day seemed to be different. She had never gone back at the beginning of the day. The air smelled different, the normal dust having a rich smell to it almost, as if the entire room was hiding something from her.

Quietly she followed him to the farthest back room, the lighting minimal, a mere ceiling light above the small room. Mr. Thomas picked up a brown-paper wrapped package, sitting down on the stool it had been setting upon before he held out the package towards the girl, who stepped forward to take it from him. Slowly she turned the book over in her hands, the same examining look that she always gave new books. Slowly, as if scared it would jump out at her, she began to pull the twine that held the paper to the book, letting it fall around her supporting hand as she unwrapped the paper from the book.

The book itself looked old, many, many years old. The cover was a deep forest green with strange symbols that she didn’t recognize in a lighter almost ghostly green. The text upon the binding that pronounced its name was a golden color, its text, ‘The Beginning’.

Cassandra looked over the book laying the binding upon her hand as she slowly flipped open the first page, reveling in the crispness of the pages, every one edged in gold. The text was a beautiful scrawl, looking as if the book was written by hand, rather than printed on a press. She smiled as she read a few lines, already absorbed into its depth.

“For one to know the beginning, they must first look at what was before the beginning, and what the beginning is of. Before a child can be born, first a being must die. However, the beginning of all life is a far different story. Of this, we shall speak."

Cassandra looked up from the book, her eyes glittering like stars as they locked with Mr. Thomas’s. She smiled, brightly, as she moved towards him, slowly closing the book as if it were made of glass. “Thank you,” she said softly, moving to give the elderly man a huge hug.

Smiling, Mr. Thomas returned the hug, his green eyes closing as he took in a deep breath. As he exhaled, however, he began to cough, his hand holding onto Cassandra’s shoulder, as his other moved to his chest, his body bending in half.

“Mr. Thomas!” Cassandra called out, moving to him. She wrapped an arm around his frail body, helping him to his feet “We need to get you to fresh air!” she said, moving towards the front with him. It was a slow walk, for something that wasn’t very fall, the shuffled steps of an older man matching the more hurried, soft steps of the girl, her young form holding him up as best as she could.

After what seemed like hours, Cassandra got him to the front, sitting upon one of the reading chairs as she rushed to get him a glass of cool water to sip. Mr. Thomas’s eyes closed, his body lying in the chair, limp as he tried to breathe. Breaths seemed to resist him, each one more shallow and ragged than the one before it, until, almost just as Cassandra was returning, the breaths didn’t come any more.

Cassandra dropped the glass she held, barely hearing the shattering as it hit the carpeted floor. She rushed to the old man, but it was too late. The only person she had ever been able to confide in, was gone.

[kittywitch]

Chapter Two

Cassandra barely could hear the questions that were asked by the paramedics after they arrived; how she had managed to actually dial the phone 911 and tell them her whereabouts, she had no idea. She didn’t even remember doing it.

“Miss? Miss!” the paramedic was trying to get her attention again as she spaced out.

“Huh? Oh. Yes?” Cassandra replied, obviously out of it.

“Did the patient…”

Cassandra cut him off “Mr. Thomas. Mr. Alan Thomas! HE HAS A NAME” she shouted, tears falling over the brims of her eyes to fall down the sides of her cheeks, creating a larger stream down her neck to get captured by her shirt.

“My apologies. Did Mr. Thomas have any medical problems that you were aware of? Did he have a wife? Children? Any family?” The gentleman asked, looking up from the clipboard he held. His eyes were brilliant blue, though sad looking. They had a ring of green around the pupil. His brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She guessed that it was probably past his shoulder-blades when left to hang loose.

Shaking her head to clear the random thoughts, she answered the question. “His wife died a few years back. As far as I’m aware, they never had kids, and I’ve known him for ... all my life.” She seemed to get distracted again, this time at the scrubs of the gentleman before her. They weren’t the standard blue that you see in movies and on TV about hospitals. They were a soft shade of green, with runes on them. The runes themselves seemed to glow, a silver color.

After scribbling down a few things, the paramedic moved from Cassandra, telling her she should sit down, and went outside to talk to his partner. The people from the morgue were outside as well, preparing a carrier to take the man from the store he ran, owned, loved, to be processed, like every body that died in that small town, to get a autopsy, get filled with preservatives instead of blood, makeup, and to be put into a box and buried.

For the first time since she had first been given the book, Cassandra let her eyes fall upon the green book, laying a few feet away. Slowly she picked the book up, holding it to herself, another round of tears falling as she thought of how it was the last thing she’d get from this bookstore, as she was certain it would be sold, or another owner would step up and change it.

Looking around the small shop, she began to wander through the stacks of books, letting her hands gently graze the bindings of all those she passed. Like all bookstores, this one had different sections to it: sci-fi, fantasy, fiction, non-fiction, children’s, young adult, etc. Slowly she walked the stacks, one hand clasping to her beloved book to her chest, the other grazing the books as if she would never see them again. Slowly she made her way from front to back, and then back to front on the other side of the store, the large main isle between the two sides, leading back to a seating area. To the front, there was a little stand that always held fresh coffee, as well as a few tables. On the other side of the front, in front of a wall of windows, was the counter for checkouts and trade-ins. It was here that Cassandra walked, seemingly oblivious to what was around.

Having sat on the tall stool behind the counter many times, she knew where everything was; where the key to the register was, as well as the key and the code to the small safe that was nestled underneath the counter and its drawer. Kneeling down, she pulled the small safe from its resting spot, dusting off the bit of dust on the top and setting it on the cabinet. As she began to unlock the safe, a police officer came over, seemingly in a hurry.

“Dear, you need to leave things alone so we can do a proper crime scene investigation,” the woman said, a look of concern upon her face.

“I know how he died.” Cassandra replied, her efforts to open the safe not hindered at all. Slowly she slid the key within it’s slot, turning it to the right before beginning the electronic code to open the safe. As she pressed the buttons ( 1, 0, 8, 8, 3 ) in the order they were needed, green lights began to light up on the face of the mechanism. As she pressed the last number, a soft click could be heard as the handle was released. Moving her hand over, Cassandra opened the safe and slowly began to remove the contents within.

“He was sick.” She said, matter-of-factly. “I was the only person that checked up on him.” Pausing what she was doing, she looked up at the officer “And, if I remember right, am the closest to his next of kin, his god daughter.”

The Police officer was taken back by the girl’s insistence to what she was doing. Smirking a bit, she leaned against the counter, watching Cassandra to make sure she didn’t steal anything or ruin anything.

Slowly Cassandra pulled out a few small plastic bags, containing jewelry from Mrs. Thomas, from before she died: a wedding band, a pearl necklace, a diamond bracelet. But that was not what she was after and she merely set them aside as if they were pebbles. Finally, she got to the bottom of the safe, and under a half-ream stack of paper for financial information as well as a business license, she pulled a manila envelope. Upon the front of this envelope was one single word.

‘Will’


Chapter Three

After she arrived home, Cassandra felt the next few days pass in a strange blur of crying, numbness, anger, sadness, depression, and pretty much every emotion except happiness. She went to the wake and funeral with her parents, standing; book in hand, with the others who mourned the loss of their friend and local store owner. Cassandra had been asked to speak the eulogy, which she accepted, her speech short and to the point.

“Mr. Alan Thomas, a man we all loved dearly, until the bitter end. He brought us happiness in the form of conversation, and in books, which he loved more than most anything else in the world; just after his family. When his wife passed away, books became his life’s passion, more so than it had before. He took us all under his wing at one point or another, teaching us, or consoling us. He was a teacher, a councilor, a father, a spouse, to us all. May he rest in peace.”

Keeping with tradition, the next of kin was the first to place a rose on top of his casket before it was lowered into the ground. Cassandra first kissed the rose petals, before placing the rose ever so softly on top of the casket, turning away after and walking away, as if signifying that the chapter of her life was over.

A few weeks passed, and nothing happened. Finally, Cassandra was taken to a lawyer’s office for the reading of the will, Mr. Thomas’ home having been cleaned to prepare for what ever the will had set for it. As the will was read, Cassandra clung to the book she carried with her always. For the most part, Cassandra stared off into space, only half hearing what the lawyer had to say.

“And to my God-daughter, Cassandra,” was all that had to be said to catch the girl’s attention. Sitting bolt right up, she looked at the lawyer, her attentions solely upon the young man before her. His hair was cut short, blonde. His face was etched almost; strong lines, eyes that caught the light and caused them to seemingly glow in a chestnut brown color.

“…the girl who has kept me company these years since my wife died, leaving me almost completely alone. If not for her I would have died many years ago.” The lawyer continued “I bequeath unto her firstly any book that she currently has in her possession. She loves the books and I know that this will be a gift that she cherishes.”

As Cassandra heard these words, she clung to the green book, unknowing that the ruins shown brighter as she did, than normal.

“I also bequeath unto her the books in my private collection, but in store, and at my home. And, while I would love to give to her the home of which I have lived these many days, I feel that it would be better suited for an after-school program for children to study and the like, so I bequeath that to the local public school.

“However, I do bequeath unto her all of my life insurance, except that which is needed for my funeral and burial arrangements, though the plot is already paid for.” The lawyer paused and looked at a note that was laying upon the table he sat behind “to the sum of: 4,678.82” he said, looking directly to Cassandra, smiling.

Around the room, people began to speak, asking what a girl would use with so much money, saying they should have gotten some, for one reason or another.

Banging a gavel against the table, the lawyer stood, looking around the room, and lifting a hand to silence them “Please, please. Do not bicker. This is a legally binding contract.” Rolling up the parchment before him, he bound it with a ribbon again, before putting it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Cassandra, if you would?” he said, motioning for her to join him in a separate room, away from the busy loud talking of the other people in the larger room.

Cassandra stood, walking through the waves of people until she finally reached the back of the room, entering through the doorway into a smaller room. The lawyer followed and closed the door behind him. “Thank you. There was another part of the will that Mr. Thomas did not want the average person hearing. In fact, he told me specifically when we were writing this, that he wanted only me and you to know of it.

Cassandra nodded, moving to a small love-seat to sit down.

The lawyer took from within his chest pocket, where traditionally a pocket watch would reside, a small box, not dissimilar from a watch a ring would be held within. Handing it to Cassandra, he smiled “go ahead and open it.”

Cassandra looked at him, suspiciously, before slowly opening the blue felt box. Within, tucked into the soft white fabric, was a necklace, the charm upon it the shape of a tear. The main stone was an emerald, the purest that one could find. Set around the emerald were 12 small diamonds, and 12 small sapphires. A smile crossed the young woman’s face as she saw the necklace.

“He bought it at one point, in hopes of having a daughter” the lawyer said softly, as she looked at the pendant before her. “After his wife died, he thought of you as his only family. He planned on giving it to you when you graduated college, but as he grew sicker, told me that he wanted you to have it if you hadn’t graduated yet.”

Cassandra smiled softly as she slowly took the pendant from the box, holding it up to the light and seeing the rays of beauty that fell from the pendant in blue, green, and the rainbow effect that fell from diamonds. “Would you please?” she asked, moving her hair out of the way and over one shoulder. Nodding, the lawyer walked to her, and behind, taking the necklace and clasping it around her neck.

As the pendant nestled against her bare chest, her low-cut top allowed, she felt a warmth spread through her, as well as a knowing that everything would be ok.

A few days later, rain fell as it rarely did in early June. It poured in sheets, keeping all those who did not wish to get soaked, indoors.

Cassandra sat at her window, looking out and holding a pillow to her chest, her blue-grey eyes lacking the sparkle that was present only a few weeks prior. Glancing about the room, looking for something to do, Cassandra’s eyes fell upon the book that sat upon her bed, next to her pillow. This was where it ‘lived’. Cassandra never took it from its place anymore, knowing that it was safe where it was.

Sighing slightly to herself, and knowing that it would be a waste of a gift if she did not read it, Cassandra moved to the bed, laying upon her stomach, the book moved to lay against another pillow as a prop. Running her hands over the green with runes cover, she sighed, slowly reaching to open the book, her eyes falling onto the ever-so-familiar prologue that she had read the first day, and almost immediately memorized. Slowly her hand moved to the page’s side, flipping the crisp, new page over a few, skipping the dedication, and moving on directly to ‘chapter one’.

Blue-grey eyes moved over letter by letter, word after word, line after line, slowly reading the text. It spoke of death, and of life, and of a girl, who was scared of them both; afraid to die, and for those she loved to die, but at the same time, afraid to live to her fullest. The girl’s name was Kinada. She was tall-ish, with flowing silver hair and brilliant green eyes. She was a beauty to all she met, and yet could not see it in herself that she was beautiful.

Cassandra read through chapter one before looking away from the book. Catching a glimpse of the time, she shook her head. Time had flown and it was almost 9:00pm already. Placing a marker in the spot where she had left off, and moving the book to its normal spot on the bed, she stood, stretching. Quickly she made preparations to sleep; brushing her red hair, brushing her teeth, putting on PJs, and having a glass of milk to drink (not specifically in that order).

Climbing into her silk sheets, she turned off the light by her bed and closed her eyes, curling up with her favorite teddy bear and quickly falling into the world of dreams and fantasies.

[kittywitch]

Chapter Four

Cassandra stretched as she opened her eyes. Looking around her, she found herself lying on a soft bed of grass, in a small clearing in a wood. The trees looked fairly young for a wood, maybe only about 100 years or so old. Looking about her, she noticed that she was also not wearing her satin pajamas, but rather, was dressed in a dress of cotton and polyester. It was a deep green in color, almost as if it had been made of the leaves of the trees themselves, rather than cloth at all.

Moving her left hand, she realized that the book that she had been given just before Mr. Thomas had passed on was with her as well. Shrugging this off as fairly normal, she gathered the book she viewed as so sacred, vowing to read more later, and stood up.

There was a single path from where she had been laying. It was directly south of her. She knew it was south because of the moss on the trees nearby. Having read so many books, she also knew how to move around and survive in the woods quite easily.

Realizing that her feet had leather shoes on them, she began to walk down the dirt path. After about 100 feet, the path made a slow turn towards the west, broadening as well. The turn lasted maybe 50 feet or so before straightening out again. It was after this straightening that there lay a peculiar site for the woods. There, in the middle of nothing, was a fountain; and upon the edge of the fountain, a man, seemingly waiting for her.

“You have made it finally” he said, directly to her, as if he knew her from long past.

Cassandra looked at him, feeling deep in her gut that she knew him from before, yet could not place it. . His eyes were brilliant blue, with a bit of a sparkle, as if he knew a secret. They had a ring of green around the pupil. His brown hair hung loose about his shoulders, ending about at his shoulder blades. He wore a tabard of sorts, a knight’s uniform, Cassandra guessed, with a two runes upon the chest next to each other that seemed to glow a strange silver color.

It was then that Cassandra knew where she had seen him before. “You!” she cried out, moving closer, “You were the paramedic… at the book store who asked me the questions.” She said it as fact, leaving little room for discussion or argument.

The man nodded slowly, “You are right, madam. I am he.”

“Then, why are you here? And, where is here?” Cassandra asked, before adding to the end “And what shall I call you?”

The man bowed, placing his right hand over his chest. “My name, Dear One, is Lesŏty.”

Cassandra looked at him curiously for a moment before asking, in a rather quiet tone “Why do you not use my name?”

Lesŏty looked up, a bit of a blush upon his pale skin. “We are not permitted,” He sounded almost shocked, “to say the name of the Chosen One.”

Cassandra’s eyes grew wide. “Chosen One?” She lifted a hand to her forehead, shaking her head. “I need to sit down.” She said softly, moving to sit on the edge of the fountain herself, to the Lesŏty’s left. Looking into the fountain, she found that she looked just as she had but a few moments ago as she brushed her teeth in her bathroom, at home.

“Would you like a drink, Dear One?” Lesŏty asked, standing and moving to a horse that stood waiting, tethered to a tree.

Cassandra nodded, seemingly oblivious to what was going on, focused on the fountain. She could see herself in her bed, asleep, and yet, there she was. Perhaps it was a dream? Perhaps her other life was? She shook her head and jumped a bit as she was handed a glass full of water from the fountain itself. Slowly she drank it, savoring the flavor of the sweet water. Cassandra couldn’t place the flavor. It was sweet and clear, and yet, without flavor at all, merely wet.

Opening her eyes, she handed the glass back to a smiling Lesŏty, quite curious as to what had made him smile so broadly. Her mind immediately questioned what he had done to the water. This must have been evident in her face because Lesŏty shook his head. “You have me wrong, madam. Look in the water’s reflection.”

Confused, Cassandra looked into the reflection of the water. She looked the same as she had looked a moment prior. But as the water’s ripples subsided, her looks changed. Red hair turned to silver and lengthened. Blue eyes turned to green. Her skin paled slightly, and as if magic, subtle makeup appeared upon her.

Turning round, she looked at Lesŏty, the look in her eyes that of confusion “What has happened to me?” she asked, holding the book she loved so much to her chest.

“Do you not recognize how you look?” came the answer in the form of another question.

Cassandra thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No. What have you done to me?”

Lesŏty shook his head “Merely shown you what your true form is. You may now be called by your proper name; Kinada.”

Chapter Five

Kinada felt light headed and lifted a hand to her brow. “But I have always been Cassandra.” She said softly, looking more confused and a bit scared now. “Kinada; She is a girl in this book.” With that she held out the green book with glowing runes.

“Yes,” Lesŏty replied, placing a hand upon the book. “But have you ever looked at the end of the book itself?”

Kinada shook her head “You never read the end of the book before the beginning. It ruins it.”

Lesŏty smiled “Trust me, do it this once.”

Reluctantly, Kinada turned the book over, and flipped the back cover open, flipping back 1 page, 5, 10, even 20 pages. They were all crisp and clean, with golden edges, but no text. Looking up, Kinada asked “Why is there no end.”

“The end of the last novel of our people just ended with our dear friend Alan. You are the new beginning. For a story to end it must first have a beginning. And for there to be a beginning, there must first be an ending.” Lesŏty replied, as if having memorized a script.

Kinada nodded, having read something similar to that in the front of the book. “But, what of the bit in there about the beginning of a people?”

Lesŏty nodded, knowing of what part she spoke of. “That, madam, I cannot speak on. We must go to City Hall, where you might speak to my brother. He is more knowledgeable about such things.”

With that, and with seemingly endless energy, Lesŏty moved towards the horse, untying it and moving towards her. “Do you know how to ride?”

Kinada nodded, and then shook her head “I rode a pony when I was younger, and have read books.”

Lesŏty smiled and nodded a bit “Very well, I should probably direct anyway. You do not know the way.”

Moving to Kinada, he helped her onto the patient horse, before mounting behind her smaller frame, his strong arms on either side of her as he gripped the reins. Heals clicked into the horse and it began to move, turning toward the entrance/exit of the wood, and towards the Capitol City, and the Hall that resided there.

The ride seemed to last for hours, and minutes at the same time. As if in no time they were out of the wood, and yet, Kinada could have sworn that they had been traveling down many roads for many hours.

Upon exiting the wood, they found themselves in a field in the shadow of a large town. This was the direction that the horse was headed, and it was the direction they went. It took far less time, even by Kinada’s recognition, to reach the town gates, where the caller above asked who wished the gates, normally left shut, be opened.

Lesŏty called out in a strange tongue that Kinada could not understand. Whatever was called, it was apparently the right thing to be said, because the doors opened before them within a few seconds.

Blushing slightly, Kinada felt the town looking at her, babbling under breath in the same strange language that Lesŏty had spoken. “I do not understand the speech. How will I speak to your brother?” Kinada asked, turning her head so that Lesŏty might hear her.

“He will handle that. You do know the language, it is just not been brought out of hiding yet.” came the response from behind her.

Kinada cursed Lesŏty inwardly, growing weary of his riddle-filled speech. Shaking her head, she accepted it for the time being, as she had no choice but to go with him to the City Hall.

The hall was settled on the brow up of the hill. Columns lined the sides of a great room, seemingly a waiting room. There were benches and lounging couches scattered about the room, with small tables nearby with pitchers and glasses set upon them.

At the back of this room set a desk, with a young woman behind it. Her dark skin seemed to contrast those of whom Kinada had seen so far, but once again, the face was familiar. Kinada remembered the police-woman who had been at the scene of the incident, smiling inwardly. “How many of your people have been watching over me?” she asked, looking at Lesŏty, who walked beside her.

“Over the years, many, in many positions to make sure you were well.”

As they reached the desk, the woman behind it bowed her head, her hand lifting to her chest, as Lesŏty’s had in the wood. Kinada assumed this was some sort of salute, so she nodded in return as Lesŏty lead them down the hall.

The hall was a soft orange color, soft to the touch, though solid. Every few feet, on either side, were small niches where an urn sat, a crown about the widest point.

“What are these?” Kinada asked, pausing to look at one of the more intricately painted urns.

“These are the ashes of our Forefathers, Kings, and Queens. When a member of royalty dies, there is a ceremony to morn their death. They are wrapped in silk cloths, so that in their death they are not naked; Next, in a fur cloak, so that they would always be warm, even on the coldest, clearest night; Their fingers are adorned with signet rings, so that no matter where their spirit goes, one might always know they were Royal; Their bodies and clothing is wrapped in pure white linen, to protect them from the fire; and finally a crown is placed upon their head.

“Then they are placed upon a pyre. Council members and family gather and place torches at the base of the wood, setting it ablaze. The pyre generally burns for an entire day before going out, or being put out if it lasts that long. When it is cool enough, the Council members take the crown that the Royal wore, clean and polish it, and, after the ashes are put into the urn that had been made for the Royal, the crown is placed onto it so that as they move into the afterlife, they may always have their sign of power.”

Kinada listened, having slowly began the walk down the hall again “Do you never run out of space?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

A new voice rang from the other end of the hall. “As a new King or Queen passes on, the urns are shifted, the oldest going into a room in the palace where they are stored.”

Kinada looked up, startled. Smiling, she recognized the face of the man standing before her as the lawyer who had given her the necklace she always wore. Lifting her hand she felt that it was still there, under her cloths, as if an ever present reminder of her God-father.

[kittywitch]

Chapter Six

Smiling, Lesŏty looked to his brother, moving to shake his hand “It has been too long Aryal” he said, before turning to Kinada. “You have already met briefly Kinada, but, it is time for a proper introduction.”

Aryal stepped forward kneeling before Kinada, his hand taking her own limp hand and kissing the back of the knuckles. “My lady, it is a pleasure to meet you” he said, bowing his head a bit.

“Please, stand. I’m...” she trailed a bit “I’m just a girl.”

Aryal looked up as he stood, his eyes fastened upon her own. “You do not quite understand, do you?” he asked, a puzzled look upon his face.

Slowly, to make sure to not scare her, he placed a hand to her chest, where the pendant lay hidden beneath her clothing. As his fingers touched the cloth divider, green, blue, and white light began to shine through the room. As the light shone, Aryal began to speak in the old tongue of the land.

“Efi’may Star’ay Sin’ay…”

Kinada tried to make sense of the babbling speech that she heard. It was too unlike anything she had heard before.

“Sun’ay cloe’ti’nay etu’bu’lay…”

Aryal’s voice grew louder and with more passion.

Kinada closed her eyes and willed herself to understand.

“Sicu’nay, Trin’a’lay…”

And then, she understood

“East, West, Come to live in your queen.”

‘Queen?’ Kinada thought, looking at the man before her as he knelt down, speaking, not in English, but the native tongue of… her people.

“My lady, did the spell work? Can you understand me?”

But, instead of answering the question, she asked one of her own, stumbling a bit over the words that felt weird in her mouth “I’m the new queen?!”

Lesŏty cleared his throat a bit. “Well, sort of.”

Kinada was lead to another room and sat on a sofa, handed a warm drink – tasting of vanilla and chocolate, but not like anything she had ever had before at the same time.

Lesŏty sighed a bit and sat on a table before her, to be close. “My lady, the title queen is not quite accurate. The spell has been passed down for generations, and we think the translations from the ancient text, to what it is now is a bit confused. You see, your friend, Mr. Thomas, was our king. And you are not his daughter, as much as he would have liked you to be. He had stepped aside his throne and let a council take over running the kingdom while he fell in love and tried to have children of his own. However, when he passed on to reunite with the kings and queens of old, he left no heir. We cannot, by right, allow a girl who neither knows our country, nor is of royal blood run it."

Kinada stood up abruptly. “Then why did you bring me here? Why have you been watching me?” Tears began to roll down her cheeks as Kinada began to shake, the book she held glowing brightly within her arms. “And why does this damned book keep glowing?!” she threw the book against the table, the book opening as it landed. As she looked at it, script began to fill the page. She looked at it, the book said she did. She looked at Lesŏty, the book said she did. She looked at Aryal and screamed “I’m not some character in a story! I’m a girl! With a life” (the book continued to write down all that happened, in detail).

Lesŏty sighed and looked to his brother, who moved over and placed a hand on Kinada’s shoulder “Please sit down so that I can explain.”

Kinada reluctantly sat down and looked from man to man, her green eyes clouded with tears, her long silver hair laying almost lifelessly about her shoulders and back.

“Kinada, Your purpose here is to help us create a new kingdom.” Aryal said softly, picking up the book and closing it softly, holding it out for her. “To be our queen as we start anew.”

Kinada looked confused. “Next you’re going to tell me to ‘be fruitful and multiply’.”

Lesŏty looked away and blushed a bit “Unfortunately, you will have to bear an heir... At least one... And choose a King... and…” he blushed a bit brighter “Make it so that the royal family has branches in the family tree…”

“So, I do have to fuck like a rabbit” she said, sinking into the chair she sat in. “And, do I get to choose who this partner of mind is going to be? Or do I just get shoved in a room with a prince and go from there?”

Lesŏty blushed once more, as did Aryal. “Well,” the latter said, clearing his throat a bit. “There is no royalty left amongst our people. And, aside from that, none of the other kingdoms in the land have sons who are of royal blood. So, it will not be a prince, as you put it.”

Kinada looked at him “But..?”

Lesŏty sighed “But they must be a magic user.” He said, lowering his eyes a bit “But there are many of those in the kingdom so surely you can find one of whom you enjoy the company of.” He added quickly.

Kinada looked away; hurt a bit “Well. I guess I don’t have much of a choice do I? Did, you at least give my parents a reason as to why I was gone?”

Lesŏty nodded “They have been implanted with a memory of sending you away to college.”

Kinada looked a bit confused “Aren’t I a bit young for that?”

“They will not remember your age either… or how long you have been gone.”

Nodding, Kinada stood, taking her book and holding it against her chest. “Ok. Where do I begin?”