Almost every night was hot in North Vaemyr. But tonight was an exception. Gray clouds started gathering slowly above the palace of Suncrest, gradually concealing the crescent moon.

The Queen and her Guardian were sitting alone in a garden of Suncrest, but unlike most gardens, this one had no flowers. Just palm and cocoa trees standing tall all around them. And if you were unlucky enough, it might have been that a coconut fell on your head from the height of thirty or forty feet. A fun fact throughout the Southern Kingdom was that one of the first Southern Kings died after a coconut fell on his head. The rumors want his head being split in half, just as the coconut did.

In front of them, there was little pool, with a fountain in the middle of it, where water ran down from. There was also a school of fish in the pool. All of them were of fluorescent orange or yellow color, swimming idly and apparently enjoying the water that fell down on them.

“But how clever can a fish be to find anything fun? All they care about is living. Living just to be alive, with no other purpose, except from reproducing. They do not even fear death, since they don't know what death is in the first place”. She stopped there to catch a breath. “Stupid creatures. I am happy to be born a human. I can savor my food, I can laugh and cry, and I can reproduce only for pleasure. As I did.”

She was the Queen Ivanna Mullohan, born as a princess of House Turner. She was in her mid-nineties, thirty years older than Cyrene Heavel, having as a result her being the oldest Queen of the Grand Continent, and the sixth oldest Queen of all time. Despite her age, she was a remarkably tall woman. She was fairly stout, but thanks to her height, her weight could be mistaken to be average. Old and fragile and derelict as she was, she resorted to more idle habits. Her legs sadly could not support her standing for more than half an hour anymore. Of last, she became keen on stuff like watching the fish in the pool, sewing, which she hated, and studying history. She trembled a lot, making her unable to keep books steadily in her old freckled and wrinkled hands. So she made her Guardian, Nathil, read to her from an old history book her stepmother owned one century ago.

The Queen looked at him. His brown eyes, brown skin, and his thick black locks. Those were the facial attributes she grew up knowing. His appearance was that of just any southern boy around twenty. Thin, tall, and muscular. A fair face with symmetrical characteristics, in addition to a delicate nose, inclining slightly upwards. The typical handsomeness of a young southerner.

But this specific boy was particular. And after scanning him head to toe for yet another time today, she continued preaching. “Boredom is paramount since the last decade. All I can do from now on is sitting and thinking. As much as I did not want to end up yet another half dead hag, Nathil, I successfully did.” The typically handsome boy just nodded his head lightly, showing agreement, understanding, and giving her leave to go on. “But after all, am I maybe too old to ask for more? Medics and priests support that I am in a situation most of my peers would be fond of... But still, I cannot just cling to that and feel like my current life is something to take pride in.” Her voice cracked. “Age is a number that indicates your time of being alive, not how close you are to death. I want to increase that number, which I sadly cannot do when I'm seated all day long on a comfy chair.”

Nathil mechanically pinned his eyes on her chair and started deciphering all its being. There were two big oaken wheels attached to both its sides. Her seat was indeed comfortable, as the heavy cushion placed on it was filled with azure broad feathers stolen from a strange bird. That bird originated from Mare Maris; a land that gets completely overtopped by the sea once every two decades. The continent remains for two full years underwater before the sea's altitude starts decreasing again, revealing the peak of Mare Maris' mountain. Another year is required for the land to utterly come out of the sea, and afterwards strange forms of life and bizarre creatures begin inhabiting its non-fertile landscapes for the next two decades.

“But again, am I too old and crippled to ask favors of such magnitude? Tell me truth Nathil.” She paused for a few seconds, and knowing that she would get no answer, she carried on. “I had a joyful life. I was the firstborn princess of my family, married at the age of twelve to the upcoming King, who is now lying abed, unconscious, awaiting the grim reaper. I have been a Queen for many generations, allowed to do anything that gratifies my desires. I cannot say that I am disappointed of my life.” And then, she talked decisively, as if her lips were catching fire “Actually, my life was the best I could ever ask for. My King was always by my side. People always said that I was a tomboy, but with Trevor next to me, I looked like the Queen of Maidens. Me and my husband travelled throughout the Grand Continent, set sail for The Islands of Joy, took a trip to Orbis Terrarum, prayed on the floating mountains and boulders of Ayios Montis, climbed to the peak of Mare Maris, hunted and feasted on the sacred animals of Bestia Silva. We took the life of many people in battles, as we gave life to countless newborns across the world. Our blood is spread all over the continents. We both made love for pleasure all we wanted. Our lovers were of every possible kind. Our children, feeble and strong, pure and sullied, innocent and cunning, will take over the world sometime in the future. In the future, where we’ll be rotting beneath the very land we were born… I cannot allow that. I am the Southern Queen of the Grand Continent who has been ruling for eight decades. I am Iva the Traveler. I am Ivanna the life bringer, as I am Ivanna the grim reaper. The world is mine and his. Anything belonged to us since birth. And under no circumstances should I be allowed to die like this. Bored. Boring. Longing for my last breath, having the same destiny as some fish in the pool.”

Nathil looked her in the eyes, but they did not meet. She was looking up at a darkest of skies. Her previous expression of greediness turned into a sorrowful one. “Then again, am I a bit too old for such things? Get yourself together Ivanna” she reminded herself, “are you sure for that? Do you rea0=]]\.lly want to do that?”

Yes.

A smirk appeared on her wrinkled face. “All my life, I have never been as sure as this moment. I ask for no costly and fancy fireworks above my funeral, as we did when my mother died.” This was true. For every dying King or Queen in the South, fireworks were fired above their dead body for three days non-stop. And it was not of low cost. “I do ask for sparks though. Tell me now, Nathil, is it really that bad that an old crippled woman wants to see the world burn before she dies? After all, the elders' death wishes should be treated with respect.”

Nathil nodded negative. Then locked his eyes on her apparel. She was wearing a kimono robe of deep green color, imported from Textilis Theatrum. A lightly green rose made of silk jutted out from her left shoulder. It was one of her favorite clothes, even though she almost never wore it. The reason was her granddaughter, Marie, an eminent dressmaker throughout the Grand. It irked Marie a lot when her Queen Grandmother preferred wearing imported clothes instead of hers, especially when they were decorated with flowers. Decorating clothes with silken roses was Marie’s profession. But at this moment Marie was in The Northern Kingdom, having as a result Ivanna's wearing whatever she favored.

The Southern Queen reached her hand into her pocket, where a strange bell was placed. She seized it out, and Nathil scrutinized it.

The bell was silver with waves engraved on its surface and was hanging from a blue string. It allegedly belonged to Nobelle of the Silver, many many centuries ago. Some parts of it were rusty, but it was mostly intact of any other defects, rendering it one of the most valuable antiques in the Grand Continent.

Queen Ivanna rang it thrice, its sound penetrating anything living or inanimate around them. It was one of the most bizarre and dark sounds Nathil had ever listened to. He was unsettled and on the verge of panic, a feeling he came to know for the first time.

A girl of dark skin walking barefooted through the garden came close to her, her light brown eyes pinned on the Queen's. "Great grandmother. My ears are yours. But please hurry a bit; we are dining with the girls soon."

Queen Ivanna Mullohan smiled. Nathil knew that she admired her great granddaughter's fairness. She was thin with a smooth skin, and also wore a kimono robe, but of white color. She reminds her of her youth.

“Many years before, I was just as you. Years before I was stuck in a chair. If one could travel back in time and tell Ivanna of the past that she would become another frail old woman, she would never believe them.” She paused for a few seconds, to think for a last time. “Now, Moria, get our fastest birds ready. It is about time."

Moria was stunned, her facial expression becoming critically more serious than a few seconds before. "I-i-is it time already?"

"Yes my dear. Marie will be done with her business in a few hours. Get the messages sent."

"And what if she fails? Then everything would be-"

"Marie is my great granddaughter. I raised her, as I raised you, and even better. Singing you girls lullabies of valor and gallantry to sleep. The blood of Iva the Traveler runs in her veins, as in yours. Failure was never an option in the first place."

Queen Ivanna’s speech seemed to pacify her stressed great granddaughter. "The falcons will be on their way soon. Four of them, right?"

The Queen nodded right. "Eat lightly my love. Believe me; you don't want to end up like your great grandma. Oh, and it is raining tonight. Better stay inside. You don’t want to get all wet”.

Moria smiled. "Men still take a liking on you my Queen, don't be stupid. I’ve seen them all stare", she said with a grin, then kissed her and went her way.

"If only" said Queen Ivanna and laughed. "All we need to do now is to wait, Nathil. Let us hope for the sign of success. Elsewise, we are doomed” she whispered to him, but he did not seem to care much. “And while we wait, I am itching for another story!" she said loudly.

From her behavior, Nathil understood that she got tired of waiting the last years. But this would be the last time she ever did, no matter the outcome. She opened her legs and let the air of a cloudy, windy night cool her.

She turned her gaze at the fish in the pool, and so, as a good dog, Nathil did too. He was examining them closely. They were heading towards the fountain, trying to swim against the current the falling water brought on. Fish in the pool. Little ignorant creatures and their unreachable god, The Fountain. They are witless enough to believe that every time the water falling on them is fresh. But in truth, the water is just the same as before, recycled through the fountain. Trying to swim towards the unknown future, when in reality they just keep swimming through the known past. Their destiny is already written. For their past is their future, and that cannot be changed. Some of them might have understood so, yet most of them just keep heartedly accepting what The Fountain offers them. But in both cases, they refuse to choose another path. Their own path. Consequently, all the generations of fish in the pool to come are doomed to undergo this loop eternally.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Fish… Stupid creatures. I am happy to be born a human” she said. Then once again, she started thinking, and thinking, and thinking. And then mustered up enough courage and spoke. “The Curse of the Kings... It ended circa a century ago, but its residues still affect a remarkable number of people. Those fools of historians even based our chronology on it; as a reminder. They made a whole continent fear its happening once again, which did none but deteriorating the situation. They tried to prevent the war, but in contrary to that, they ended up making it easier to reoccur. Made it easier for someone to wreak havoc. For someone bored and boring.” She smiled, and he did too, but not because of being loyal.

"I wonder what an old woman's last chance to have fun might be before she joins her mama again" she declared for herself. Then the look on her face became spooked. Nathil was sure that death came to her mind, thus making her almost sweaty. She feared death a lot, he knew. “I-I-I already told you Nathil; I itch for another story tonight. Go bring the book”. Not talkative at all as he was, he immediately stood up without saying much, and went for that book she asked for.

He passed through an open door in the stony corridors surrounding the garden and found it on an oaken dusty table. It sure was huge for a book; pretty heavy. It was black and red, its covers consisting of thick leather. Nathil brought it back and sat once again on his not-so-comfy chair, with the book in hands. He slightly tilted his head down to observe it and feel its elaborately sculpted cover against his delicate fingers. The sculpture depicted an unearthly beast coming forth towards him. As every time, he lightly touched the beast’s teeth, which always excited and titillated him. This time though, he remembered the sound that damned bell relic echoed, and his excitement turned into vigilance.

He was about to start reading her favorite story to her, when she once again interrupted him: “You know what, Nathil? I partly feel lucky that... my King husband fell in a coma before I was left on a chair. Seeing me like this would only make him sad.” A tear ran down her chick, being trapped midways between her wrinkles. “He would do anything possible to make me smile again. I know he would... that imbecile”. She laughed. "Yes. I am really lucky that he cannot see me anymore" she muttered in a hoarse voice. "Lucky that he-" and so she started crying. Loudly. Such sudden bursts of emotion were so typical of her, but never predictable, Nathil knew. She threw her head fiercely back, hitting the chair hard. Her old skull, lacking much of hair, made a minor cracking sound. But she did not care anymore. She cried. She cried and sobbed and mourned. A mix of slimy snot, saliva and salty tears deluged her mouth. "Trev. You said that even in afterlife we would be together. But now you are leaving me alone, here, in a chair, completely helpless" she let a loud sob escape her mouth, as she sucked some snot back in her wrinkly nostrils. "You said that before we die, we would be on the top of the world. That everything would be ours. You liar!", she cried once again, throwing fists in the air.

Nathil eagerly observed her outburst. He did nothing but say “my Queen, if you want this plan to work, you have to keep it down”. At that instant, the very old Queen lost control of her movement and slipped off her chair. And when she unsuccessfully tried to stand back up, she was reminded once again that she was not young anymore. She hated herself.

For a few moments the Guardian kept sitting on his chair, expressionless, trying to understand her colorful temperament. In the end he decided that she was acting like a child. A woman her age, with her boresome, never-ending stories of adventures, should have already been accustomed to death. As her Guardian, his sole role in life was to be loyal and tend to her every need. This is what he was raised for. But oddly, he felt helpless, and could not but keep his distance.

Then he snapped out of his reluctance and hasted to help her back on her feet.

“You fool of a guardian. Your Queen asks you for a story, and you ignore her. How many times have I told you to not let me think for that much time?” She never got an answer, of course.

Instead, Nathil hurried to fulfill her request. "My Queen. Tonight I have a special reading for Your Grace. This document was recorded in 647BC, on the very land we are found right now. It is about The Reign of Queen Nobelle Navam I. The Devilchild of the Silver Ages."

In a quick change of emotion, the Southern Queen could not restrain her smile. That story always aroused her. She always inspired to become like that old Queen.

And Nathil at last started reciting history. “The Silver Age started circa a millennia ago. The land of the Grand Continent was mainly ruled by two families, House Navam, and The Cygons, whose main residences were The Navami Stronghold and The Cygian Keep respectively. For many hundreds of years, peace was kept between the two families. Until one day, the Navami King’s long-lost daughter returned, at the age of nineteen. She was Nobelle Navam, people’s all-time favorite princess. For unknown reasons, a few years after her homecoming, she attempted genocide; slaughtering most of her bloodline, including her father and brothers and sisters. Her mother was long d-”

Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang

They suddenly felt something hot behind them. Turning their heads, diffuse light was brought to their eyes, coercing them to keep them closed for several seconds. Thankfully, it was too far away to pose any danger, as a number of tall palm trees stood in between.

Fireworks. Yet they were not aiming at the sky, but the ground.

Baaaaaaaaaaaang

The huge garden of the Suncrest was soon illuminated, as if the god of thunder striked with all his might at once. Colors of any hue and spectrum instantly appeared and vanished behind them. It was rather scary than beautiful. Nathil and his Queen knew that there was no going back now.

Then fireworks started flying all around them, above them, while one flew right past them. That damned Moria positioned them haphazardly.

The fireworks popped with loud BANGS from every direction, wreaking havoc. The whole palace must have woken by now, and guardians should be hurrying everywhere, looking for their Queen. It must be a surprise to not find her in bed.

Soon enough, when the rain of fire was over, a dominant fire took over half of the garden, hungering for more.

“My Queen, this is getting out of hand, I need to get you out of here quickly” the Guardian said.

“We don’t have much time Nathil, hurry to your duty, I will be fine”

“But my Que-”

She took out the bell once again and started ringing it; then shouted “HELP! I’M BURNING!”

All of a sudden, as if God was playing games with them, it started raining.

Their eyes met with clear fear. Nathil’s panic was triggered due to that cursed bell, and the rain only made it worse. If the fire gets put out soon, the guards and her daughters and their daughters will be here in no time. The Queen of the South managed to keep her cool though. After all this time, her grand plan was instigated at last. She could not give up from the very first minutes. She looked at Nathil, determined. “This is the last chance we get. Start running this very instant, Guardian, or I will have your head on a spike”.

The Southern Guardian got his head together since he didn’t want to lose it.

He closed the old book so that the pages wouldn’t get soaked, and after bowing to his Queen, he started running. Inside, he wished this was yet another night, and that he could keep reading the book. That story he loved as much as his Queen did. They had read it so many times, by now he knew it by heart.

He flew through burning coconut trees, his linen apparel catching fire. He quickly discarded it and luckily only his chest hair was consumed by the flames.

He heard guards approaching, readied his dagger, but last second decided to sneak behind a wall, in the shadow casted by the flames. When they kept hurrying to where their Queen cried for help, Nathil swiftly made his way to a door in the end of the corridor.

He got in and started ascending a fair amount of serpentine stairs, leading to the top of a tower.

He was unfortunate to find a guard witnessing the fire from a window facing right at the garden. Shit, he could have seen me. Without hesitation, having success as the only option in his mind, he shoved the man out of the window, knowing that at such height he would undoubtedly fall to his death.

Arriving at the top, he came out of a door that connected the tower to the battlements. The guards positioned to keep watch from the battlements were the ones he bypassed before, Nathil knew.

And at last, he just kept sprinting at full speed towards the segment of the battlements that connected the closest to the royal bedroom.

Only then did he realize that the rain was over since he exited the tower. Looking behind, he saw the flames were engulfing the garden, and not one tree was being spared. Fire. Hungry and merciless. Especially in the South. If wind blows the clouds away before they rain down on the palace, by tomorrow the whole place will be down to ashes.

But his mission was not worrying about the weather.

He was lucky all guards made haste to reach the fire.

Standing in the corridor before the royal bedroom, he peeked by the wall only to see a knight standing guard outside the door. The man was clad in silver plate, and had a winged helmet encasing his head.

Nathil knew he had to come up with an idea, but none came.

Could he fight? No. He had no sword or spear on him. He was not wearing armor since his Queen wanted him to dress comfortable as usual when they go reading in the garden. Otherwise, it could raise suspicion.

He was standing merely with breaches on, his upper body being brown and muscular and dripping with sweat. Then he remembered he was the Guardian of the South, who’s authority was just below the King’s and Queen’s.

He arrogantly walked towards the knight, who, surprised as he was, uttered: “M-m-my sir Guardian of the South, is everything ok? Is the fire under control? Where is the Queen?”

“Is your King in his bed?” Nathil asked, pointing at the door behind the man, completely ignoring his questions.

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Now walk in there with me”

The very puzzled knight had no choice but to obey.

And as such, they walked into the bedroom, where the dying King Trevor Mullohan was lying abed. He was sleeping, serene and sound, as he has been for the past few months. He was gaunt, with his bones pretty visible beneath his skin. A miserable sight for Nathil. Then the Guardian looked at the knight and nodded with his head at a door inside the room. “In there. Right away!”

“But sir, this is the privy”

“Do you question me, guard?” he replied with an imposing tone. “You get a few minutes to take off your armor. If you are still dressed when I check in on you, you are dead” Nathil declared in all seriousness.

The knight did as he was told, with fear being plainly visible on his face. Then he walked into the privy, where the smell of crap was overwhelming.

Taking off his silver armor sure took time, but he hurried as he was told to.

When he was standing in almost complete nakedness, he heard the door of the privy opening behind him. Before getting the chance to turn his head around, he had it shoved down in the disgusting water, seconds before feeling cold steel slitting his throat.

This way, his blood won’t flow beneath the door and into the bedroom, buying me some more time.

The guard could not show resistance. After all, Nathil was fairly tall, with huge hands and muscles unusual for a man young as him.

When he exited the privy, he was clad in the very same manner the guard was. A silver man, unrecognizable inside his armor, with white wings on his temples.

He approached his King, and without giving a second thought, he pushed a pillow against his face. The line was already crossed. There was no going back. Feeling remorse would only betray his Queen.

The sleeping man struggled but for only a moment, and as such, he was freed from his prison of a body.

The morning was nigh, but the dark clouds where too persistent to let the sunrays break in. Soon, a downpour would be upon them, and as of tomorrow, the Curse of the Kings would be one step closer.