Eros found himself lost in surrounding darkness. Wandering through a maze of mist and twisted branches, he squinted his eyes, trying to see further. The maze just continued for what looked like an eternity.
Every time he took a step forward, his feet met the ground, which vibrated and made splashing sounds like water, but acted all like a solid. As Eros bent down to see if he could see himself in a reflection, he saw nothing. He rose again and continued to walk on the bizarre ground. What force compelled him to keep moving forward, even if his head considered such with hesitance, Eros didn’t know. He was under its control, however, whether he wanted to or not.
The force was also telling his body where to move. Forward, left, right, and all the other sorts of dizzying movements that Eros was forced to do. After what felt like an eternity, he took a step out of the maze and stepped into a clearing of more darkness. He looked back at the labyrinth that he had just subconsciously escaped.
It was gone.
The ground at his feet began to glow red. The hue grew brighter and brighter, stronger and stronger. A voice whispered from all directions, echoing in the empty chasm.
“Eros. Save us.” the voice asked. “Lead us to salvation.”
Eros closed his eyes and covered his ears, falling over. On his knees, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. It followed by another on his other shoulder, Eventually, he was consumed by hands, reaching for him.
“Be Orion’s savior.” the voice continued.
“Eros Mondragon. Be our God.”
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Eros’ eyes shot open, and he rose from his bed, letting out an anguished yell.
He looked around. He was on his bed, the same one he slept in the previous night, in his room, the same one he walked in last night. The sun curiously peeked through the closed curtains as thin rays of light landed on the writing desk on Eros’ right side.
He rubbed his eyes and dropped his hand in exhaustion. Rubbing his fingers together, he realized that he was sweating. “That fucking dream again…” he muttered, throwing his blanket aside. The visions of twisted mist mazes, endless darkness, and who could forget, the endless grabbing hands in a world of red, muttering something about salvation and being their god. In Eros’ opinion, that was what hell looked like. A few seconds in that sort of environment had Eros easily questioning his own sanity. No doubt, a perfect choice for eternal damnation.
Trying to forget, Eros put his bare feet into his slippers that he set by the bed previously, and walked over to the curtains to let the Sun inside. The flaming ball of orange fire that dominated the sky gladly flooded the room with light.
Eros’ room was large. He had a domed ceiling with intricate, architectural designs, and luxurious furniture, from his bed, nightstand, writing desk, wardrobe, you name it. Even his circular carpet that resided in the center of the room was made out of the finest sheep’s fleece and was dyed to look like a dragon.
Turning the handle on the glass doors with a satisfying click that Eros loved hearing every morning, he swiftly opened the doors, walking out to the balcony, where the day had long started, with a beautiful blue sky and calm breeze. Grabbing the guardrails, he peered below the landscape. People had begun hustling and working about hours before Eros awoke, moving cargo, trading products, and lots of constant chatter.
On the opposite side of the guardrails, a crow landed, cawing out for its partners. Taking notice of Eros, it tilted its head to him, and flew off, dropping a small down feather on the floor, which carried itself in the wind, flowing down to the bustling, busy landscape below. Amalthea, capital of the great country of Teufel. The very country he would rule one day as king.
Eros picked up the doors to his room clicking open, and he heard a voice. “Eros?” the voice questioned, walking into the room with a repetitive click-clacking of shoes.
Eros turned around and closed the glass doors when he saw who was calling for him. His sister, Ria, walked in rather unwelcomed, her purple dress sparkling in the sun. “You should’ve been awake two hours ago,” she remarked, observing Eros. He smiled at her sarcastically. “If I really had to wake up, then somebody should’ve called for me,” he replied, walking past her to his wardrobe.
She chuckled at his smart response and slowly followed. Ria Mondragon was a beautiful young woman at the age of 14, youngest of the sibling trio Eros was the eldest of, at the age of 16. Ria had beautiful, flowing dark blonde hair and dark purple eyes, both from her mother. She was often sighted in the palace wearing dresses of sorts that either sparkled or clinked as she walked around. Rightfully so; she loves to play dress up and pretend that she’s a model, a career choice that she seemed to prefer more than royalty. And with the looks, she would probably dominate it, if given the chance.
Eros Mondragon was a boy who liked to wear more modest clothing, unlike his extravagant sister. He had light brown hair, emerald eyes that sparkled as much as Ria’s clothing, and a slightly muscular body built from working out every now and then. Also unlike Ria, who loves to socialize and collect everything that shines, Eros prefers to be in more quiet, enclosed spaces, busy doing his own things. He tends to landscape drawing, taking care of his assortment of plants kept in the castle greenroom, and birdwatching.
“You’re funny,” Ria told Eros, hopping on his bed. She looked outside through the glass doors that lead to the balcony.
Eros took a light coat from a drawer, shook it loose, and wore it over his night dress. He then gently closed his wardrobe and sat on the spinning chair that paired the writing desk, spinning towards the bed Ria lay in. “Get off that,” he said, pointing at her. “You still have your damn slippers on.” Ria huffed and did as she was told.
Eros smiled to himself and wheeled back to the writing desk, taking a pen from a cup in hand. He opened a binder on the table, flipping to a page on the very back, buried under the other pages. Taking the pen, he added another tally mark under a chart, labeled: ‘How many times I had that stupid dream’, which now had around thirty-four marks.
“Do you think we even have to do much today?” asked Eros. “Last night was a bomb. Solace’s birthday was insane.”
That was true. Solace Mondragon, the middle sibling, had his birthday celebrations yesterday, capping off with a grand party in the city square with fireworks in the sky, to which everyone was invited. Eros was with Solace much of the time, while Ria was busy chatting up the local folk. It was an amazing experience for everyone who attended, with food and drinks miraculously able to feed everyone and have some leftovers, which Eros heard rumors about from some local folk that Solace was planning to donate to peasants, those who were least fortunate.
“Probably not. Mother lets us take a day off after anyone’s royal birthday parties.” Ria replied with enthusiasm, “Which means I have the whole day to do pretty much whatever I want!”
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Eros closed the binder and set the pen down, spinning to face Ria. “Whatever indeed. Say, I don’t know how to spend much of these days, since I’m used to doing tons of stuff during the day.” Eros said, rising. “You know, big brother stuff. Next in line. Heir to the Teufel throne. Wondrous stuff.”
Ria smiled. “You should see the city with me! I know lots of people there.” She suggested, pulling on Eros’ sleeve. “It’s interesting as hell! All the cool stuff they make do with that us royal folk miss out on!”
Eros looked at Ria. “No. Mother doesn’t want you down there already, never mind me. She wants to keep us safe.” he reminded her. Ria glared at Eros.
“Oh my goodness, at least I appreciate the ones below us!” Ria remarked, crossing her arms. “The food they make is spectacular, the people are all so nice, and again, all the cool gizmos! You know that pen you were holding just now? It was made by the a-”
“The author who made my favorite book, The Day The Heavens Came Down, yes, yes,” Eros said, finishing her sentence. “I appreciate Donlavan for that, of course. And I love the pen.”
Ria looked Eros in the eye sternly. “You’re coming with me down there. I need somebody to protect me, and I don’t want to take one of those guards! They’re no fun. They’re all ho-hum whatever at me. They don’t give a shit!” she complained, walking around in a stupid way, imitating the guards she was complaining about so mockingly.
Eros chuckled a bit. “Oh my gosh, fine. I’ll go. Just let me get dressed and eat breakfast. And you should change into something more modest unless muddy, stinky clothing is the new fad.”
Ria smiled and headed her way to the door. “You’re so mean,” she remarked, closing the door. Eros stood there hearing the clicking of her shoes recede.
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Eros and Ria stood in the center of a marketplace, with stalls placed in rows all around them. The place was busy; the chatter was loud, overpowering the chopping of fish and meats, and clanking of wares being sold left and right. All through it was a mixed, wavering smell of both putrid dead meat and fresh baked goods.
Eros looked at his surroundings as he and Ria walked through it, the slightly dried-up mud at their feet making squelches and squishes that virtually nobody was able to hear amidst the chaos. People were walking and running all over the place haphazardly, making the marketplace a dangerous environment for common folk to try and travel through.
Thanks to their status as royal blood, however, people instinctively gave Eros and Ria room to walk through, wishing them well. It was a mutual law amongst everyone that anyone from the royal family, the Mondragons, and anyone they considered important or close. were to be treated with respect.
Ria tugged on Eros’ sleeve, pulling him towards a meat stall. It was somewhat larger than the others around it, neatly tucked between two buildings, with a makeshift ceiling made of driftwood and rags. Flies flew above and moths flew near the lantern lights attached to the walls on either side. The stall was at the end, and the place was filled with customers; some lined up, others chatting it up at tables, scarfing down meals of meat and fish bits, raising glasses of beer. It was clear that this place was the main attraction and local get-together hub of the town.
Eros looked down at Ria, who walked towards the stall with him with a face full of excitement. Eros winced. “This isn’t the place anyone’s expecting you to be, knowing that you are a Mondragon, after all,” he whispered, lowering his head to her ear. From the corners of his eyes, Eros swore he saw some of the people sitting in the wooden chairs exchanging curious looks at the two, mainly at Ria, who decided to wear somewhat revealing clothing. Eros slightly glared at them as they looked back at their meals below.
“Calm down. This isn’t my first time being here anyways; I’ve become real good chums with the guy who runs this place,” replied Ria, pointing to a painted wooden sign that hung on a metal bar, a decently painted slab of grilled beef with a fork stabbed into it, with the words ‘Bexter’s Beef Corner’ hastily written over it with white paint. A small bird landed on the metal bar, chirped, and flew off to find other, less guarded leftovers.
Ria pulled Eros past to the left of the lineup, coming to a stop at the wooden countertop, and folding her arms on top of it. Eros quickly followed, standing protectively behind her. Reaching her arm out, Ria rang the bell overhead with a string. It made a ding ding that went out through the kitchen behind. Eros could eyeball around four workers, seasoning, preparing, wrapping, and frying meats of all kinds. Turning his head, Eros could see a delivery boy, around Ria’s age, grabbing a whole cooked chicken, with a piece of paper with writing scrawled on it. Placing it gently in a cloth-wrapped wooden box, he hauled it over his back like a backpack with leather straps and went off, reading the paper.
“So, this place is like a restaurant and a shop at the same time? You can buy things to eat and meats to cook on your own?” Eros asked Ria, who was busy scanning the kitchen; likely for the manager who ran the rather impressive business. She looked back at him and nodded.
“It’s very successful; this place was running a few years or so before you were born. Everyone loves this place, and honestly, I can see why.” Ria replied. “You know, the guy running this place, Bexter, he used to be pretty poor. But some nice, retired chef took him in and taught him how to cook meat. Turns out, he’s a natural, and then he started this business.”
Eros stared off to space, letting the backstory sink in. “That’s… impressive, actually. You’ve made me curious; we should try some of his cooking,” he replied, half-heartedly smiling at Ria.
All of a sudden, a large, muscular man wearing a stained apron walked up to the counter, staring the siblings down. He looked Ria in the eye and smiled warmly through his thick, brown beard. “Hello, Ria. Hello Eros. Welcome.” he said, his deep voice emanating through the stall. He held his thick, hairy arm out, hands motioning to Eros for a handshake. Hesitantly, Eros shook his hand, feeling like a twig compared to the big man.
“The name’s Bexter, the man behind this place, as you might’ve guessed,” he added with a side laugh. “Come, come in. Just in time, I just started my fifteen-minute long break.” Bexter beckoned the siblings forward, opening a door in the corner that allowed access inside. Eros and Ria followed, looking at Bexter as he closed the door. Eros smiled at him; he could tell the man had a big heart and was a trusted man.
Turning left, Eros and Ria found themselves inside a small, dark room, lit by a lantern on the big writing desk on the right. The small room had a design and setup that made people feel cozy and warm, reminiscent of a winter cabin in the middle of the woods. Bexter walked in with thundering footsteps, opening a cupboard next to the little stove left of the entryway. As he fiddled with whatever was stored within, Ria silently motioned Eros to sit in one of the two chairs in front of the writing desk. He followed her, seating himself in the wooden chair, wrapped with what seemed to be a brown bear's hide.
The writing desk was made of mahogany wood, and on it was a warzone of stacked papers, files, and books, somewhat similar to Eros’ writing desk, as he took notice. Some papers that stood out had the Mondragon royal crest stamped on them. Eros was curious to take a closer look but hesitated. He didn’t wish to intrude. Even if he was of royal blood, the heir to the throne, this man was not the kind of person anyone would want to make their enemy.
The room also housed other oddities, such as a bookshelf right of the writing desk with oddities and collectibles seemingly clustered on top, a large, locked chest to the left, a deer’s head stitched on a plaque hung over the large bed with more bear’s fur as bedding and a blanket. A nightstand, a bear’s fur carpet, and the stove where Bexter currently was, small, and not as efficient as the stoves in the kitchen right outside.
Eros snapped out of his daydreaming to the sound of Bexter pouring some sort of liquid into small, glass cups. Setting down the bottle, Bexter walked towards them, handing both Eros and Ria a glass of dark orange liquid, then sitting down behind the writing desk, sipping his glass.
“What brings you around, Ria? Wanted to introduce me to the heir?” Bexter asked, looking at Eros. Ria nodded. “Because of last night, we don’t have anything to do today, so now’s the best time. Here’s Eros, your next king!” she replied enthusiastically.
Eros nodded at Bexter, sipping from his glass, tasting a tangy, citrus flavor. “Thank you for the refreshments, Bexter. A pleasure to meet you,” he replied politely. “So, you made everything here?”
Bexter closed his eyes in agreement. “Indeed. From scratch. Wasn’t easy, especially without a lot of money to buy things like those tables. Y’know, it didn’t start out like this. I didn’t even have this room. Just a few stoves, my brother and his friend, and 3 wooden tables and chairs, one I remember had a broken leg. Things were tougher back then.”
Eros stared in amazement. “How did you manage to get better?” he asked curiously.
Bexter smiled proudly. “Thanks to my superb cooking skills, people loved what I did, and sales kept rising. Eventually, I was able to revamp this whole corner in the marketplace to what it is now,” he answered, beaming with pride.
Bexter picked up a small pile of papers from the desk and handed them to Eros. “Since you are the heir, I hope you could support me in my true cause. Why I made a business,” he muttered.
Eros slowly took the papers, looking at them under the lantern light. They were the same papers that had the Mondragon royal crest stamped on them; the same papers he was curious to take a closer look at.
Peering closer, squinting his eyes, Eros read the title. “The Truth About The Day Of The Moon,” he read out loud. “What is this, Bexter?”
Eros flipped the page. There were intricate diagrams of what used to be the Moon and the world they lived in (named Schleier), and all over, equations of sorts. Then it hit him.
“Is this your research about that day?” Eros asked, glaring at Bexter. “You should know that discussion and any activity related to that day is forbidden. As royalty, I’m not about to exc-”
“Ah, I knew it. Sorry.” Bexter said, cutting Eros short and taking the papers back. “I thought you might understand. Ria told me you were also inquisitive about the topic, however.”
Eros glared at Ria, who jumped. “Hey, I’m not wrong. You read that book about this religiously, it’s scary,” she said in her defense. Eros sighed. “Fine, I’ll let this slide since I can sympathize with you,” he admitted, taking the papers back. Staring at them, he looked up at Bexter.
“So, what have you found out?”