Page 23 of Return of the Darkness
“Any information on the past prophecies or the Wiccan could be of some help,” Olden said. Larelle waved through the window before tearing her eyes away to meet Olden’s. Would it be helpful? Given both the Wiccan and prophecies related to Garridon’s citizens, not Nerida’s.
“Her eyes still glowed blue, like those with Nerida’s power. But she appears to have some sort of foresight that lies within the Wiccan’s ability.”
“Neither my family line nor Riyas’s mother’s has any known Wiccans. I wish I could be of more help,” Olden sighed, resting his head back against the velvet seat, his eyelids drooping.
“I know my family line. Riyas had the same eyes as Zarya, and the same power as mine. It’s odd that Wiccan lineage exists so far back in your family’s history that you’re unaware of it.” Larelle frowned at the suddenness of Zarya’s awakened power. Many had always commented on her odd awareness and intuition, so perhaps it had now manifested fully. “It makes little sense. I do not like not knowing.” The carriage grew bumpier over the stone paths as Olden leaned over to pat Larelle’s hand. “And who does he think he is?” Larelle raised her voice. “Who does Osiris think he is to invade my daughter’s mind?” She picked at the skin around her nails, trying to suppress her anger.
“He was sending a message he knew you would need.”
Larelle gave a weary sigh. “I’m sorry to trouble you with my thoughts, Olden. You shouldn’t have to listen to my frustrations.” She smiled at the man she viewed as a father a soft smile which he returned.
“You know I will always listen. I may not always have a suggestion, but I will listen. Larelle, you always know what is right. Zarya’s intuition, her strength, her intelligence...” Olden tapped Larelle’s chest, beside her heart. “That all comes from you.”
“Not from Riyas?” Larelle asked, and Olden scoffed.
“Gods no! The fool was far too carefree and aloof. You groundedhim.” Olden’s smile slowly faded with the pain of a father who grieved his son every day. “I’m not quite awake enough to join you. If you don’t mind, I may ask the carriage to return me to the castle. It’s far too early for me after the journeys and events from the past few days.” Larelle frowned at Olden’s wince as he shifted in his seat, but she smiled when he looked at her and squeezed his hand.
“Of course.”
***
Under the late morning sun, the crowds were a chorus of celebration as they filled the central square of the City of Statues. Their queen stepped from the carriage, aided by Lord Alvan’s hand, who met her by the door. His cheeks were flushed from riding horseback alongside the guards. Larelle lifted her head high, where the twisted crown of waves sat atop her head and aided her in self belief as she refrained from widening her eyes at the many people awaiting her arrival. The lords had mentioned alerting the people to keep a façade of stability; she had not expected so many to be present.
Larelle did not scan the crowd for long. She sought the second royal carriage and found Zarya stood close to Lillian’s side. Her curls twisted back within her tiara, revealing her face to the crowd. While she gripped Lillian’s skirts with one hand, the other waved regally at the cheering crowd. Slowly, Zarya smiled, matching the grins of the people. Larelle paused to admire her daughter—the princess who had never expected such a life was adjusting quickly, despite the weighted sight she had been gifted and the dark truths it shared. But no darkness lingered in Zarya’s eyes as she finally saw her mother and ran towards her. Seeming to remember herself before the people, the little girl slowed to a more regal walk until Larelle reached for her hand, angling them towards the clear pathway to the church. Royal guards held back the crowds, allowing theroyal procession to approach. Stone statues, their hands cupped in welcome, greeted them.
“Mumma, there are so many people,” Zarya said, waving at those lining the path. Leading the way, Larelle continued smiling and inclined her head in acknowledgement.
“They’re showing their appreciation for their new princess,” Larelle said. Warmth bloomed in her heart at the genuine kindness and excitement shared by the people, beholding their princess, the future queen. How different their reactions were to the whispers and silent judgement she had endured. Zarya stopped waving and moved closer to Larelle, suddenly stiff. She followed Zarya’s eyeline to the end of the path, where below the stone hands stood Vivian, the acolyte they had met on their previous visit when searching for ways to contact the gods. Larelle recalled Zarya’s sudden shyness the last time the acolyte had spoken with her, which was an unusual response from her daughter. Larelle squeezed Zarya’s hand.
Vivian appeared unchanged since their last visit—immaculate. Not a single golden hair fell was out of place from its tight updo, which was decorated with a simple, freshly polished metal diadem resting on her forehead. The silk blue sleeves on her robe fell over her hands as she bent to lift the hem, curtseying to the queen and princess.
“Your Majesty. It is an honour to welcome you to the church again.” Vivian’s smile appeared genuine as she gestured towards the archway. Larelle returned it before entering.
“Thank you, sister Vivian. I am most appreciative of your kind welcome, especially given our sudden requests to visit,” said Larelle. She studied the church walls, unable to ignore the beauty painted upon the bricks. The pastel murals were as beautiful and intriguing as she remembered. Sunlight shone through the glass dome, highlighting the artwork, and a shimmer captured Larelle’s attention as she looked towards a depiction of a lake with two lovers on its shore. The sparkle in the water was what entranced her as she glimpsed a glittering blue tail dive within, causing a rippleeffect. Larelle stepped forward to inspect it further, but Vivian’s voice pulled her away.
“Do you wish to visit the archived area again?” she asked, and Larelle nodded.
“It may take us most of the day. What we are looking for is rather specific. We will likely have to filter through many books and parchments.” Vivian’s face appeared to stiffen before her smile returned.
“What specifically are you looking for?” she asked, strolling the dark pews towards the altar, where Larelle knew a small wooden door awaited, leading to a spiral staircase.
“Preferably maps, or any texts that mention other kingdoms or lands.” Larelle was cautious to offer more detail. Vivian cleared her throat.
“And will the princess be helping with your research? If you like, I can keep her occupied. I am more than happy to.” Vivian smiled down at Zarya, who tightened her grip on Larelle’s hand.
“She will likely want to help us, but I will let you know if she tires,” Larelle replied, sensing Zarya’s discomfort. Vivian responded with a simple and polite incline of her head before opening the door. The group began the climb while Larelle’s guards kept watch at the base of the stairs.
The room was as Larelle remembered, with its pale sandstone walls lit by sconces. To her right, heavy drapes shielded the old books and artefacts from the light.
“I have prepared a space for you here. The shelves in that room at the back are the oldest. The priest usually has them under lock and key, but he’s taken ill, so I thought that would be a good place to start. I have not read the tomes in there myself.” Vivian gestured to the large circular wooden table, where a lantern sat propped in the centre. A door, slightly ajar, was located behind it. Larelle was sceptical of the priest’s illness, especially following his refusal to meet her on their last visit, disapproving of her family’s inconsistent religious practice. “I will be at my desk here.” Vivianmoved towards the smaller table near the bookshelves.
“Are you working on much today?” Alvan asked politely, guiding Zarya to a chair at the table. Lillian took the spot beside her.
“Plenty,” Vivian said. She still stood beside her desk, seeming to wait until the princess was seated and the queen had begun rifling among the shelves. “I am tasked with copying every text we have onto new parchment to be bound. Some books and parchments are so old the text is fading. Copying each will allow us to always have an accurate record of our history should the originals wear beyond use.”
“I hope today's work is interesting for you,” Larelle said, glancing at the names on the parchment tucked between the metal ends of the bookcases as a signal of what could be found within its depths.Political Allegiances, Purifying Practices, Historical Lineages.
“Very interesting, your Majesty. I do not know if it is a prophecy, a depiction of someone's life, or a completely fabricated story for reader enjoyment. However, it is rather intriguing.” Zarya’s eyes lit up at the mention of a story, which did not go unnoticed by the acolyte. “Perhaps if you tire of helping your mother, you could help me, princess?” Zarya offered a polite smile but glanced away quickly and leaned towards Lillian. Larelle thanked her before turning towards the unlocked door at the back wall to share a frown with Alvan. The princess was rarely shy. An uncomfortable weight rested on Larelle’s chest as she stepped from the stone floor to one coated in dust. Her footprints left a trail as she pushed further in. Only a single flame on the wall lit the space. The furthest shelves appeared to hide secrets upon secrets in its depths. Only four bookcases were visible—two in front and two behind—though she was uncertain how far back the cases stretched. A shiver ran up her spine. For the first time since she was a child, Larelle feared what might lie in the dark.
