Cassandra Pendragon

True to his claims, Mephisto drew up the necessary runes in a heartbeat. I was grateful that we had something to do as well, even though I wouldn’t exactly consider filling bottles with blood a fun activity, but it was better than standing around awkwardly, at a loss for words. We had to wait and see, the dice had already been cast.

I was nervous, my heart beat as quickly as the wings of a hummingbird while fear for my friend slowly spread through me like the cold of the night. I had been able to push it away while we had been moving but now, it creeped through me like a disease. I didn’t know what would happen to Erya if she was forced to witness her children’s death and I dreaded the moment, when all I would be able to do was try to console her, knowing that there was nothing in the world that would make the pain go away. Despite everything I had been through, despite the countless aeons I had lived before, I had never even heard of a remedy for a broken heart, or at least I couldn’t remember it. If she wouldn’t be able to find the strength within herself, there would be nothing I could do. But maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t have to come to that.

With a flourish Mephisto finished the last strokes, the runes he had painted with my blood shimmered faintly with silver, a closed circle around a dark red sigil made from Erya’s. It didn’t look like much, a few spirals and lines on the bark of the tree but together they evoked an impression of the intent Mephisto had put behind them. It reminded me of the links of a chain, somehow separated but still connected to form a whole, an impression that was mirrored by the energies that coursed through the outer glyphs and flooded towards the one at the centre.

“That’s it,” the demon said. “But I won’t activate the magic. I won’t be responsible for the outcome, in any way, Cassandra, not anymore. This time, you’ve got to pull the trigger yourself.”

I took a step closer to Erya and whispered in her ear: “he can be an ass but he wasn’t wrong. Are you sure you want to stay?” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly.

“I am. If nothing else, I’m not going to leave a friend alone while she goes looking for my family. Whatever happens: thank you. I won’t forget it. You’ve done more for me in a few days than I have ever thought possible. I won’t ever blame you.” I nodded once and straightened.

“What do I have to do?”

“Not much, it’s all prepped. You see the tiny gap over there, close to the middle. The rune formed like a wobbly star. Right, close it. Prick your finger, finish the formation and we will be able to see.”

The few steps I had to take to reach the tree seemed like an eternity. I simultaneously dreaded what we might find out and wished to know, similar to when I had had to watch my teachers correct my homework, only about a thousand times worse, but all I could do was hope. Hope that just once, we wouldn’t have to pay a price in blood and tears.

I barley felt the cut when the cold steel of Mephisto’s blade broke through my skin and I hesitantly pressed the wound on my thumb against the warm bark of the tree. As soon as the runes were complete, I felt a pulse of power race through the outer formation, intensifying with each sigil it passed by. In my mind’s eye, it started as a speck of blood red energy that gradually turned into silver with a pulsing core of blue.

Sparks ignited in the air and I heard the great tree shudder, leafs and small branches crashed down around me but I couldn’t avert my eyes form the glowing glyphs. They seemed to spin, following the stream of energy that coursed through them. Their contours became blurry and they gradually turned into a construction of pure, silvery blue light. Slowly it spun around Erya’s blood sign at the centre, a halo of barley contained forces, ready to break lose.

The vortex of power accelerated, glistening beams crashing towards the middle until it suddenly stopped. One last pulse of magic thundered through the runes and the maelstrom split into three distinctive silver mirrors. Their surface shimmered with iridescent blue before it smoothed over to reveal three scenes in silvery shades, similar to how I perceived the world through my second sight. None remained dark and my heart skipped a beat as I allowed the ember of hope in my chest to ignite. We wouldn’t need another funeral, after all.

“Oh my,” Erya whispered while she stepped forward to reach my side.

“I’d say,” Mephisto added. “Whom are we looking at, again?”

“My children, but I’m not so sure if I can rightfully call them that anymore.” I had to agree.

Her kids were all in the same place, a decadently opulent throne room, where each one of them sat on an elaborately decorated armchair. The room itself was large and filled with light that shone through enormous, round crystal windows all along the walls and painted the floor and ceiling with sparkling colours. Living vines entwined themselves along the sills to meander off and turn into detailed, breathing mosaics. Scenes of battle and peace, harvest and death were depicted through out the hall. While the motives were unique, each image was clearly associated with one of the four seasons, from blooming spring flowers beneath a bloody battlefield to snowy scenes of winter solstice celebrations, where different kinds of fey danced and made merry around a bonfire.

Enchanted gems and flickering torches with magical flames added to the surreal atmosphere as the rulers of that land sat in judgement over one of their people. Lancelot, Gawain and Guinevere throned above a crowd of fey. Satyrs, small, winged fairies with iridescent butterfly wings, treants and other creatures of legend, from leprechauns to sprites and imps, I even saw a Minotaur, all of them knelt before the siblings, their gazes transfixed on a bundle of heavy iron chains that quivered at the feet of the triumvirate in silent agony. I couldn’t see much of who or what was underneath the spelled metal, but the slowly spreading pool of glowing blood, like pulverised emeralds, and the desperation I could feel seeping through the connection, were enough to hazard a guess at what was going on.

Erya hadn’t lied, her kids were beautiful, beautiful and cold, like a harsh winter morning in the mountains. The two brothers were similar in shape and size, tall and lithe like elves, with humanoid features. One of them had skin of pure silver, like my tails and the other shimmered like polished ebony, darker than the darkest night. Their eyes were burning embers of red and gold and no matter how frantically I searched, I couldn’t find a iota of pity and compassion in their regal visages. They sat upon their thrones, clad in the finest armour I had ever seen, their hands wrapped around massive sceptres of pure gold, a cruel smile playing around their thin lips.

Guinevere was different, much smaller than her brothers, closer to her mother’s size, with a voluptuous body, full lips, distant dark blue eyes and snow white, perfect skin. Feathery wings of the same colour sprouted from her back, each one at least as large as her. They were settled against her back like a cloak, their pearly glow a stark contrast to the diadem of rubies upon her brow. Her gown, a long flowing thing I would never have voluntarily put on, was entirely black and shimmered like silk, even though the fabric appeared much lighter, almost like linen.

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Her brothers wore similar adornments in the from of long, heavy cloaks in white with golden glyphs stitched onto the sleeves. Their tiaras were made from sapphires and diamonds, respectively, a theme that was replicated in their thrones. Guinevere’s was made from poppy blossoms and rose wood, crested with splitters of garnets and rubies while the boys… men… kings rested upon cornflowers and lilies, with specks of rock crystal, diamond, tourmaline and sapphire poking through the living seats.

“With heavy hearts we have assembled here, today, to witness the death of one of our own. The pain we feel defies description, but it is our duty to enforce the laws we all live by. All of you know the accused and the crimes she has been found guilty of. Does anyone here wish to speak in her defence, one last time?” I had been wrong, they weren’t as lithe as elves. When the one to the left had risen from his cushion of lilies, his silver skin and golden eyes sparkling in the light, I could properly see his proportions and he was much more muscular than I had expected. Toned didn’t do him justice. “That’s Lancelot… I think,” Erya whispered.

“I think I like him, even though his rhetorics could use some work,” Mephisto replied. “I might have underestimated you, fey, who would have thought that you could raise half decent rules?”

“They aren’t,” I interjected quietly. “Im sorry, Erya, but those people there fear you children. That’s no way to rule. Well, it apparently is, but it’s not going to last…” I didn’t know for certain, but to me it seemed like they had taken over their mother’s realm and made a home for themselves. A flicker of anxiety sprang to life when I wondered if they had sold out their mom to get their hands on her kingdom but I buried it deep down for the time being. I didn’t have the right to judge.

I shut up when I saw the crowd in the mirrors shift and move. The expressions I could make out were ranging from afraid to defiant, some seemed even ashamed, but no one spoke up. Until an old, gnarly treant lumbered forwards from the back of the hall, an ancient olive tree whose roots were easily twice as thick as his branches.

“Milords, milady,” he rumbled with a voice that reminded me of the wind, brushing through a forest, “I’m old, old enough to not fear the retribution should I fail to convince the court. I’m willing to speak and vouch for Morgan and put my life on the line at her side.” I didn’t like the sound of that, not one bit. Would he be forced to suffer her fate if he failed?

“As you wish, Fladrif. It is your prerogative,” Lancelot answered. “Morgan is accused of undermining the peace and threatening to expose our borders to our enemies. Why do you have to say in her defence… and yours?” Damn it, I had been right. What a messed up form of justice.

“Allow me to first set her free, no accused should be forced to wear the chains of torment before the sentencing. She can’t run from this place and I’m too old to even try. You have my word.”

Guinevere and Gawain nodded towards their brother and with a snap of his fingers, the binding chains around the prisoner rumbled to the ground. I had to suppress a gasp when she came into view, pity and disgust rising within my chest while Lancelot nonchalantly sat back down.

“That’s not… I don’t understand… I never taught the, to rule with fear, I swear,” Erya promised softly. “I would never have imagined…” she didn’t finish her sentence and my eyes remained glued to the fragile, broken form on the ground. Even though she appeared mostly humanoid, she had to be fey, otherwise she wouldn’t have survived the mutilations afflicted on her. The chains had been forged with spikes on one side, long and cruel hooks of metal that had been pressed into her body every few centimetres. Her arms and legs had been broken in several places and from the cauterised but still seeping nubs on her back, I was forced to assume that they had cut off her wings. The only part of her that didn’t look like it had come too close to a meat grinder was her face, a pale oval, dominated by emerald eyes that reminded me vividly of Ahri’s, a small, straight nose and plump lips that had a greenish tinge to them. Tears had streaked down her cheeks, shimmering in the same colour as her blood and her eyes were puffy and swollen, but I could still see their dead and detached expression.

“This,” Fladrif began, “this isn’t justice, nor is it what we stand for or should I say stood for? You accuse her of undermining the peace? I say, she tried to live her own life. You claim she threatened to expose us? I reckon she fell in love and opened her heart.” He slowly turned around to face the crowd: “is that a crime? Maybe. But is it sinful? I think not.” A shudder ran along his branches as he faced the thrones again. “Milords, milady, I come here, not to defend an act of foolishness, but to plead for understanding and forgiveness. All of us know the heat of the moment, the first caress of the sun in spring is nothing compared to the tantalising promise of not being alone anymore, of having someone to share your water and entwine your roots with. She fell for an elf, a lapse of judgement, as far as I’m concerned, but not the business of this court. She told him where she’s from and he tried to spy on us. We have punished him, exhaustively, him and everyone he was in contact with. We made her watch as you cut his heart right out of his chest. You forged chains from his entrails and cast her in iron and the remains of her love. Is it not enough? Has she not paid more than her dues for putting her own desires before our needs?”

He paused and rearranged his roots with the creaking of seasoned wood before he continued: “I do remember a time when this was a sanctuary, when the Silent Glade was still a haven for those in need. But times change and so must we if we don’t want to get lost along the spiralling path. But this, this, I won’t stand for. She’s one of ours, I heard her first cries in the warm light and I watched her learn how to walk and fly. You took her wings, you took her dignity, you took her pride but I’m not going to watch her burn for following her heart. When it comes down to it, that’s what all of us should do and I’ll gladly die by her side, knowing that I spoke up when mine demanded it. Now it is up to you, rulers of this land, to decide whether or not a young girl and an ancient tree deserve to burn for doing what they believe in. And all of you,” his branches spread out, seemingly encompassing every one in the audience, “have to decide if this is still a place you can call home, when we are gone.” Brave, brave and clever.

When he had finished, Guinevere lazily clapped her hands, which sent a wave of perceptible dread through the assembled fey. The siblings appeared to communicate telepathically before Lancelot said loudly and without regret:

“We have listened well and while we don’t agree with everything you said, we are willing to recant our judgement. Morgan, Fladrif, you will be exiled, your magic will be taken and you will be forced into a human form. You can both live a life free of the shackles that bind you here, but this sanctuary is closed to you, now and forever and should we ever see you again within our borders, we will finish what we have started. Now kneel, and don’t resist the purging, otherwise your bones and roots will yet nourish our lands.”

“We don’t have to watch this… this rape,” I said quietly and put my arm supportively around Erya’s stiff shoulders.

“You don’t have to, but if you want to find them, and I know you do, we should better know what they look like. Don’t close your eyes Cassandra, this is happening, this is real and it doesn’t suit you to turn away when it gets ugly. Watch and learn, it’d serve you well to understand, justice, self righteousness, cruelty and compassion, there isn’t one without the other,” Mephisto replied. “There are no easy answers, no easy choices. Tell me honestly: are they wrong?” I knew what he meant: those three had accepted the responsibility, twisted as it might be, for their people, or at least their land and seat of power. The good of the one could never outweigh the good of the many, at least for a queen. One of the reasons why I wasn’t particularly interested in the job.

“Yes, yes they are. Justice… justice isn’t about punishment, it’s about protecting the innocent and a chance for repentance, everything else is either cowardice or revenge, nothing more.”