It was a cold, wet, and somber day. The vast airy church was filled with black attired mourners and their pale tear-streaked faces. A stark contrast from just three days ago when the two oldest princes had returned with the army in victory. Banners of gold and red were waved by eager red-faced drunks during that time. Happy cheers filled the high beams with joy as smiles spread from person to person in one big grin.

The princes had been resplendent in their victory, the very picture of health and virility. The eldest and his shiny black hair shone under the hot sun. The second prince's silver blonde glowed white hot. The two prince's laughs and words warmed the hearts of onlookers and granted their parishioners confidence in the reigning family.

The giant cathedral with its endless arches had felt cramped with all the celebrating masses. Today it felt cold and endless with empty hollow air.

This was all noted by a young girl whose cold face barely made note of the pain in her heart. She could never have guessed that the two princes, her brothers, would get sick from infection and die just days later. Brilliant and renowned for healing, their mother had looked after them. Even she was of little help as fever and infection ruined the princes.

The girl took one last look at her brother's cold faces. They came into this world together, and they left that way. She kissed each of their cold foreheads, tears streaking down her cheeks. They were so handsome in their full regalia. She wanted to remember them as hale and healthy, not cold as ice. She closed her eyes and pulled away.

The humming began as she walked back to sit beside her broken family.

It was soft at first, more like a faint buzzing background noise. The young girl ignored it quickly as she focused on the prayer, something she didn't want to do.

The head priest of the church was talking, and his grating voice was hard to ignore. The gentle hum was soothing in contrast and softer to listen to. She needed to pay attention, for this was the last time she would see her two oldest brothers. These words meant to aid their departure from this world were all that would guide them in the afterworld. So she would have to look at her least favorite person, the Holy Priest, to get through this.

The Holy Priest, or the head priest, was an ancient man who repulsed the young girl. His snowy white robes were lined with golden fur. His grubby thick fingers were adorned with rings, and each ring had a gem the size of his fat beady eyes. He was rather resplendent for a righteous man.

Not for the first time, the young girl fought to stop her daydreams while he preached. It was of great comfort to slip into her mind, and by habit, she did it whenever he preached. Her daydreams often led to giggles or dozing off, which she usually got caught doing. The young girl received reprimands from her father each time.

The Holy Priest was her father's mentor and guide, after all. He valued everything the Holy Priest said and did as nuggets of treasure. The girl didn't like him. She didn't like the way he looked at her mother with derision. It was a look that slowly transferred to her as she got older and her womanhood approached. The Holy Priest loved her brothers and treated them like precious stones. He looked at the young girl as if she was a piece of coal that had entered his jewelry box.

The Holy Priest was bereft as he gave the sermon. It was poignant as if his own blood was being put to rest. His glittering eyes showed his genuine sorrow as the royal sons were put into the wet, squishy dirt.

The buzzing in the young girl's ear grew worse as the last dirt shovel covered them.

The sky darkened, and the heavens wept with the country at the loss of two precious heirs.

The young princess watched as first her father and then her mother disappeared. Their matching grief had driven them apart, and the directions they spilt into drove that point home.

A small cold hand clasped onto one of her own. That hand belonged to the princess' youngest brother, Arthur. It was no secret he was her favorite.

"Sister Merry," Arthur said in a wobbly voice. His silver blonde curls and round cherubic cheeks were the sweetest things to pinch for the little girl. The little boy was about half her age and the most agreeable. Certainly better than her three rough older brothers.

"Stick with me today, Arthur," Merry said.

He became her shadow during the day. He held her hand for support during the neverending lousy day. Nothing could take away the pain, no matter what they did to distract each other. Merry's heart ached from seemingly insurmountable agony, but the day seemed content with being cruel.

Her third older brother took to drink and slipped into the ocean and drowned. His body washed up before it could be found.

The humming in Merry's head went from pleasant to painful with this loss. If Arthur was a shadow before, he was now an extra limb attached to her person.

There was talk among the servants that the royal family was cursed. The princess overheard this as she walked to keep her mind off the horrific day. Merry wished they hadn't spotted her and stopped talking. The young girl wanted to know more. No, she had to learn more. If the curse was killing royal sons, she must protect Arthur, her only brother left.

The remaining royal family members gathered in the royal chambers. Her father, in his grief, prayed unstoppingly, promising things to prevent further loss. Her mother drank deeply from cups that became bottomless.

The painful noise in Merry's head became worse as the shadows grew long. Something was screaming at her, and she fought to remain tall. The poor girl was rubbing her head and ears to ease the pain.

Her mother was the first to notice and immediately sent the girl to her room. "Your lessons can wait until you're better." Her mom said.

Her father had agreed, and the young girl protested. She couldn't protest for long because the sound grew more urgent in her head. No matter of cleaning or wiggling helped, it brought visceral, sharp pain to her every breath. A healer was called, but her mother, a medicine woman, knew more than any stogie leech-happy old man.

So it was with no more fussing that the princess was led to her bed to recover. Her mother stopped drinking to accompany her, and Arthur did, too.

"Sleep. It will be over soon." Her mother said as she coaxed a dark, bitter tea down her throat.

Arthur joined her on the bed and laid his tiny head on her shoulder. His big blue eyes were damp with unshed tears.

The young girl's own eyes were filled with worry. She thought of the servants who mentioned a curse. Was she next on the chopping block?

"Mother, what's happening? Am I dying?" She said as she fought another wave of pain. The humming was becoming louder with each heartbeat.

"This is simply growing pains. I went through this when I was your age." Her mother said with a serene smile.

Merry visibly relaxed, and her grey eyes closed as she drifted asleep. Her slumber was peaceful at first, painless even as the tea worked its wonder. The peaceful dreams turned into a nightmare when the medicine wore off, and the humming returned with a vengeance.

The girl woke up soaked in sweat as a scream ripped itself out from her throat. She found, strangely enough, that the more she screamed, the less the humming hurt. The relief was short-lived as the buzzing noise grew once more. It felt like it wanted her to go somewhere, but where?

Merry cried out in pain as she tried to stand.

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"Merry." Her mother's gentle voice called out, and the girl buckled in relief.

"Mother, something's wrong. I don't know how to explain, but..." Merry said. The noise in her head was now a high-pitched wail splintering the young girl's head.

Her mother patted her head. "I know." She said.

"You do?" Merry said as she looked up. She stilled when she locked eyes with her mother's grey orbs. Something was wrong, she found. The flickering torches in the room didn't paint her mother in warm light as usual. She looked cold and cruel. The soft, kind woman Merry loved was replaced by a hardened-looking version. The middle of Merry's forehead pricked as she stared at her mother. How she'd always seen the beloved healer was overlapping with this more sinister woman.

"You're going through growing pains. It's proof that your powers are coming to fruition. I was getting worried because it happened much quicker for me. I assumed they would carry over when you were born, but those pesky boys were in the way."

Merry shook her head as she listened to her mother. She opened her dry mouth and said, "Mother, what are you saying? Pesky boys? What power?" The young girl couldn't wrap her mind around any of this.

"Our bloodline is special, Merry doll." Her mother said. "Your hair has become quite the mess. Look at these knots!" She began to brush out the tangles smoothly.

Merry watched in confusion as, for a brief moment, the loving mother she knew came back to tsk and fuss over her. The girl relaxed but stiffened when her mother spoke again.

"We descend from the bloodline of a great Goddess."

"Mother, there is only one god!" Merry said in a rush of shame and fear. Her mother didn't look feverish, but she must have caught whatever killed her brothers while tending to them!

"That's horseshit!"

Merry stilled and paled under the snap of her mother's tongue and the lash of the brush on her head.

"Those Christian men would have us shackled to their one God in the absence of the true Gods. Power dilutes as the bloodlines go on. All the myths and legends of magic and beasts have disappeared with the Gods. Only the remnants remain like our family." Her mother rambled as Merry's forehead burned, "Here, this should help the process." Her mother said rather abruptly.

Merry cried out as her mother touched her back and pressed points along her spine. She ignored the girl's hisses and complaints and didn't pull away until satisfied.

"Be grateful I'm opening your seals. I had no one to do this for me, so my power ruptured my skin rather nastily. We want to procure a good marriage for you and not waste years wiping away the damage."

Merry collapsed onto her stomach, clutching her head and unable to acknowledge her mother's words as the pain rocked her. The only clear noise in her head was the painful humming.

Her mother petted her forehead, and Merry opened her eyes to look at her mother. She was humming in tune with the sound in Merry's head.

"You can hear it, mother?" Merry managed to get out of clenched teeth.

"Yes." Her mother said with flushed cheeks. "It's the Goddess singing. My mother always passed on the tales, but I never imagined her voice would be so beautiful. I never tire of it. Normal people would die upon hearing her sing. But not us. We are of her blood no matter how removed. We are her last descendants."

Merry wasn't a devout Christian, and although she despised the Holy Priest, she loved her father's faith. Her brothers went to war on their God's behalf and won bright glory for it. What if her brothers had been loyal to their mother's Goddess? Could they have lived longer?

"Could the Goddess have saved my brothers?"

"Why would she?" Her mother said with a blank look on her face. "They needed to die. They were in the way as all men are Merry. You're lucky I was here to usher in your powers."

The speechless young girl paled as she tried desperately to connect her mother's words to her reality. Her mother was starting to honestly sound mad.

Her mother sighed and patted her head, "Merry doll, I discovered my powers when I lost nearly every blood relative. It's what triggers the power in the bloodline. I was the only girl with eight brothers. I had three male cousins and three female cousins. I lost my mother during childbirth and my father to war. One by one, the boys were plucked from this world as they went off to war. Oh, if only I had known what would happen upon their deaths. I would have done it myself! Only when my female cousins and my foolish brother Christopher were left did my power begin to quicken. I could have saved him as the humming urged me to. But I had a vision of an opulent future of power and wealth. His death was tragic, but look at me now! A queen and a powerful woman armed with magic and cloaked in luxury. The only real shame was that those female cousins died and missed my ascension. I would have loved to see their envy."

Merry fought to sit up and keep her expression blank as she processed all this. "Mother, what have you done?" She asked, even as her mind filled in the answers.

"I told you, Merry doll, I opened your path to power. The boys are dead, and you'll grow stronger now. It matters when the males of the line die. Girls gain the power to protect them. It may be because they spread the seed faster for propagation." She said in a pondering tone that was better left to wine prices than her sons' lives.

This is not her mother, Merry thought. The unselfish, magnanimous mother Merry had always known had been replaced by a monster. The young girl fought the pain in her head as she got off her bed. She needed to find Arthur and then her father. The greedy Holy Priest was preferable to the woman who had birthed her.

The young girl's feet expected to feel cold stone, but when they landed on her bedroom floor, it was into something wet and sticky.

Merry felt her knees give out, and she slipped. She fought to stay upright, but the shock was too great, and she fell on top of the bleeding body of Arthur. She cried out his name as bile rose from her stomach. Her hands grabbed at him as she searched for the wound.

"Mother, he's dying!" Merry shouted as she looked up at her mother.

The woman who still sat on the bed had cold steel eyes of disgust. Her disinterest in her son's dying body was more clear to Merry now than her words.

Merry couldn't stop the wail that ripped out of her as she screamed her brother's name.

"Oh, Merry doll." Her mother said with a tsk. Finally, the woman stood. She elegantly moved her skirts to avoid the blood the same way Merry had seen her mother dance. It would be admirable if it was any other situation.

"I told you, this needs to happen. Upon his death, you will gain even more powers. The women grow strong to protect themselves and keep the bloodline going. Foresight is gifted as the men in our line die. That power is fine, but what about the ability to move things with your mind? And there's more you can unlock. We are going to have such fun. No more pesky men." She said as she clapped her hands excitedly with sparkling eyes. "I waited decades for this moment. I prayed to anyone who would listen for a girl. I feared I would have to wait for one of your brothers to sire one. But then you came, my little Merry doll." She reached to tussle a loose curl from Merry's head.

The girl flinched and moved away. She didn't want to be touched by this monster's hand. The little girl wanted this morally corrupt woman away from her. She didn't want power. She wanted her brothers back. Why did her mother get to decide that their lives were worthless? Go away, she chanted, wishing this with all her might. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly as rage and agony built in the pit of her stomach. The pressure in Merry's heart exploded to a boiling point. She screamed, and the room shook with her cry. Which in turn slammed her mother into a wall.

Instead of being angry, her mother grinned even more aggressively. "You're so strong. I couldn't do that for years...I wonder if..." The monster said.

All the yelling finally attracted attention, and there was a knock on the door.

"The King is here, and I know you said not to bother, but--" The door swung off its hinges, and a tall man with black hair and blue eyes strode into the room.

He stopped short as he took in the chaos of the room. "Arthur!" He ran forward to scoop the little body into his arms. "Get the damn healer!" He bellowed, and the servants standing outside the door scurried to do his bidding.

"Daddy..." Merry sobbed and moved to his side. She never felt safer than in this moment. The monster would be stopped, and her brother would be saved.

"I can't let you do that, Alexander." The monster said in a cold voice that chilled Merry's blood. The beast snapped her fingers, and the fragile life that was Arthur was snuffed as his neck loudly snapped. "Look at what you've caused! I was slowly adjusting young Merry to her powers with his death."

Heartbreaking silence filled the room, and Merry's legs went out again. How powerful was she? The sound of Arthur's little neck echoed hallowly in her head as she lost her sight to tears.

"Merry doll, this didn't go as planned, but I have another idea."

Merry looked up blindly, wondering what fresh hell her mother would deliver. All the broken girl could manage to do was shake her head. She didn't want to hear any more ideas from this beast.

"Victoriaaaaaaa!"

Merry had never seen her father so angry before. His face turned several shades of red and purple as he slowly set down the lifeless body of Arthur. He roared the name again as he unsheathed his sword. The holy blade sang as it moved toward Victoria's throat.

"You will succeed me in ways I couldn't have imagined," Victoria said as she sidestepped her husband's sword. Merry noted that she didn't care that he aimed for her life. Victoria used the wind to parry and block his attempts.

"Oh, I've seen the glory of the old Gods. You will have daughters. Powerful girls who will inherit their full potential with no bloodshed." Victoria said. Tears of mad joy spilled from her eyes, and she covered her mouth. "I should have pondered more on what would happen if only one descendent was left. I should have realized what could have awakened! How blessed one would be to become the last!"

The holy blade struck Victoria's heart, and Merry froze. She hadn't expected it would be this easy for her mother to die.

"With you, the legacy of our Goddess lives on. Caelestis awaits!"

Her father sliced Victoria's head off as Victoria began to laugh maniacally.

The servants in the hallway stared in horror like Merry at the woman they had once respected. Victoria's body moved long after her heart stopped. Merry watched as her icy father sliced his queen apart and threw the pieces out the window down to the crashing waves below.

His hard blue eyes met her own, and Merry flinched. He was looking at her the way he glared at her mother.

"Lock her in the east tower." He said with a harsh tone that was better served for prisoners than his own blood.

"Father, wait!"

"It's for your own good." He said.