Rebirth Of The Fallen Princess

Chapter 4

I was floating. Though I was sure there had to be some kind of surface below me, I felt nothing. There was no wind, no voice, not a single thing that could give me any clues about my surroundings. It was as if I was floating through the darkness itself. In an attempt to sit up, I found I couldn't move my body, not even an inch. My muscles weren't straining against an opposing force, which meant nothing was holding me down. All of my strength was just gone. What happened to me? I didn't remember a thing.

As I continued to try to rouse my body, I scanned my memories for the last clear moment. My dream. The images of my family frozen in the snowy lands to the north still burned bright in my memory. With them came the extravagant palace I found myself in afterward. When I tried to recall what happened when I awoke, my mind drew a blank. Like I had merely stopped existing. But that didn't make any sense. Surely there was no way that I passed in my sleep. I would have woken if an assassin came in the middle of the night and I wasn't suffering from any terminal illness. Something was amiss.

Minutes passed, and then hours. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my eyelids began to twitch. I pried them open, fighting against the exhaustion that weighed like a blanket over me. I couldn't see much of my surroundings. Despite my training in the depths of the catacombs beneath the Rhosyn estate, my eyes couldn't discern anything about my surroundings. Then, I couldn't breathe.

I opened my mouth and tried to suck in air. However, it didn't help. Instead, my lungs became flushed with what I assumed was water. My arms and legs quickly roused from their sleep as my survival instincts restarted. I kicked around wildly, fingers clawing for something to grab hold of. The harder it became to breathe, the more I flailed. Suddenly, my back propelled upwards and I found myself in a sitting position. Water flowed from my mouth while I bent over, forcing it out of my lungs. They burned as I took large gulps of air, sighing as they became less and less strained. A shiver went down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself. The feeling of being near death wasn't one I wanted to become well acquainted with.

After a few moments, my breathing regulated, and I raised my head. In the process of drowning, my vision had cleared. Now, I stared in awe at my surroundings. My dream had come to life. I sat at the bottom of a grand staircase. Around me were the same intricate walls and decorated ceiling I saw before. It didn't even dawn on me that there was no water nearby to explain my near-death experience. Instead, I sat in the middle of the floor. It was a polished white stone and didn't have a single speck of dirt, showing my reflection clearly.

Somehow, my simple maroon dress had been replaced. Now, I donned an elegant dress the color of the sea. It fell around me in a plume of fabric, as if I were sitting in a pool of water. Despite the light color of the dress and all my pale features, it didn't look awful. The vibrant blue seemed to draw out the red tone of my eyes. I ran my hands through the fabric around me. I couldn't recall a time that I wore a color so bright and extravagant. Except for my appearances as the crown princess, I never tried to stand out anywhere. Standing out got you killed.

"Who are you to appear here in our sacred home?"

A cold voice seemed to come out of nowhere and I froze. In my wonder, I had somehow missed the presence of other people in the room. I slowly lifted my head. Now that I was aware of them, I needed to make sure of their position and if there were any others hiding. Yet, as I concentrated, I felt nothing. Not the sound of breathing nor even the faint thud of a heartbeat. It was as if I had imagined it. But I heard that voice loud and clear. The hidden power behind it sent chills shooting down my spine. That power belonged to something far greater than me. Something that could wipe me out in the blink of an eye.

The moment my gaze raised high enough to get a glimpse of the throne above me, my jaw dropped. Sitting on the gold-encrusted throne was the man from my dreams. His white hair cascaded over his shoulder, shimmering against his gold tunic. Even from how far away I sat, I could see his blood red eyes clearly. Though his mouth remained in a thin line, I watched as his eyes went through a series of emotions. Recognition, to shock, to pity. They finally settled on understanding.

"I know you," he acknowledged, sitting back, "Sister, how long has it been since we last saw the Velsignet? Decades? Centuries? Perhaps a millennium?"

From behind me, a voice answered, causing me to spin around, "It has been a while, Brother. I believe it was before we left Aeshivar."

Three women had appeared. Just as the man on the throne, they were identical to the women from my dream. Two of them seemed to glide past me, their footsteps eerily silent as they climbed the stairs to where the man sat. Each wore a similar gold dress. The designs were intricate and delicate and in styles I had never seen before. Every movement caused a rippling of fabric and it looked as if they wore liquid gold. It was absolutely stunning.

"Look at what the humans have become," one of the women commented, "should we have returned sooner?"

The third woman knelt beside me, her hand pressing softly to my temple. Ordinarily, I would have moved away. I would have demanded who they were and where I was. Yet, I did none of that. Not when the woman began to rub soothing circles into my head, nor when she cupped my cheek with a sad smile. Instead, I stared into her red eyes and fought back the urge to crumble like a child.

Lifting her head to look at the man on the throne, the woman lamented, "She endured much suffering, Brother. Her soul cries from the trauma they put her through."

She dropped her hand to gently grasp mine. But my attention had been snatched by the man she called her brother. He stood from the throne and came to a halt atop the staircase. His eyes pierced through me as if looking into my soul. Now that I gave him a more thorough check, I noticed that he wasn't as transparent as he was in my dream. None of them were.  Did it have something to do with their claim that they hadn't been in Aeshivar? My head spun trying to make sense of what should have been impossible.

"My, my," the man mused, tapping his finger along the banister, "the humans have grown quite bold if they chose to abuse you. And you, my child, have a strong constitution to have endured so much."

At that point, my voice - which had seemingly abandoned me - returned and I asked, "Who..?"

I trailed off. There was no singular question I could ask that would grant me the answers I sought. With all the confusion I had, I couldn't imagine even limiting myself to ten. There were too many things left unanswered. Where was I? Who were these people? Why had they appeared in my dreams? How did I get here? What did they want with me? So many questions, most without easy answers. While I mulled over possible ways to finish my initial question, the man straightened.

"You do not know who we are?" he wondered, looking at me as if to gauge if I jested. "Did your parents neglect to properly educate you on the history of your homeland?"

Taken aback, I quickly shook off my shock and retorted, "My education excelled anyone else in the kingdom. The duke and duchess of House Rhosyn would never allow anything less."

The man paused; his fingers frozen above the banister. From the way his brow furrowed, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through his mind. He said he knew me, but that couldn’t be true. Otherwise, he would have known that my parents would never forgive a subpar performance in education. I knew the history of Aeshivar well, or as well as our historians and the old journals of my ancestors deemed to tell.

"Rhosyn?" the man wondered aloud, interrupting my thoughts. "It makes no sense."

"That was the name of that girl who came to us all those years ago," one of the women revealed, her eyes sweeping over my appearance in skepticism. "If I recall correctly, she called herself.. Branwenn?"

That name sounded familiar. Like I read it in a book before. But where? My eyes widened with realization. Of course, her name was familiar. When I was ten years old, my mother had told me to memorize the entire House Rhosyn family line. The records went back several centuries, maybe even a millennium. And the first name to appear as the head of House Rhosyn was her: Branwenn Rhosyn, the fair raven.

The woman beside me stiffened. She let go of my hand and drew her attention to my face. With each passing second, I grew more uncomfortable. Her eyes searched frantically for something. I couldn't tell what exactly. As she opened her mouth to speak, she was cut off.

"Fine. You say you do not know who we are, so let me enlighten you," the man said, looking down his nose at me. "I am Jerrik, and these are my sisters: Cille, Asta, and Lykke. We are what the humans call gods. This is our home of many millennia, Helligdom."

My jaw dropped, the shock far outweighing my need to maintain a proper composure. Gods? Surely not. Yet, the more I thought, the more it made sense. The way they could walk in absolute silence, their lack of detectable presence, all of it. It made my head spin. I had studied notes on every religion across Aeshivar. Not a single one of them had gods by these names. Nor were their appearances this human.

As I continued to sort through the new information I received, a sharp pounding started in my temple. The pain raised every second until it turned into a throbbing. My stomach churned as the bright throne room led to a spike in the pain. I bent over, clutching my head with my hands.

"Lykke, take her somewhere to lie down and rest," Jerrik ordered, his voice faint from the ringing in my ears. "Her soul is rejecting this place. Asta, Cille, come."

Hands grabbed ahold of my upper arms and lifted me to my feet. They remained in place as I stumbled blindly forward, leading me. I had my suspicions about being in unfamiliar territory, but I couldn't think straight let alone see. So, I followed the goddess through the palace.

We walked for a few minutes before coming to a stop. Following Lykke's instructions, I sat down. I was met with a fabric softer than even the silk of Kyōwakoku, a small country to the northeast. My body loosened and it felt as though all my fatigue melted away. Even my splitting headache seemed to ease. With newfound strength, I opened my eyes.

The goddess Lykke was standing over me, her brows furrowed and her lips in a tight line. As I suspected, she was the one who had knelt with me on the floor. She pressed her fingertips lightly against my forehead and a cooling sensation passed through my skin. I sighed in relief.

"You should rest," the goddess told me, her voice hushed so as not to agitate my head.

She turned to leave, but paused when I softly called, "Wait! You knew my ancestor, Branwenn Rhosyn. Could you tell me how?"

Lykke stood, her back to me. Though my vision was restricted to one eye, I could still see the tension in her muscles. Her hands clenched and unclenched. Had I made a mistake? From the way the other goddess, Asta, had mentioned her, I assumed there was more to their relationship than just regular worship.

"She received her strength from my brother. That strength has been passed down through her family for generations, as I am sure you know. She.. Branwenn was once a close friend of mine," she murmured, then shook her head, "Now, rest."

I followed her instruction, closing my other eye, and nestling into the blankets around me. Somehow, I fell asleep. When my eyes opened next, Lykke had disappeared. Another blanket had been placed on top of me, enclosing me within an ensnaring temptation to never leave. However, I couldn't stay in one place.

Standing, I let out a relieved breath as I found my headache had nearly vanished. I crossed the room and peered out into the hallway. Dim lights adorned the wall, allowing me to see just far enough for the lights to nearly vanish before another one lit up more of the corridor. I followed the lights for a bit until I came to an empty room. From my limited experience, I had a feeling I shouldn't stray too far from my resting room. The castle looked like a maze I could get lost in for days. Instead, I took a seat by one of the tall windows and steadied my breathing.

Meditation was quite easy within the walls of Jerrik's palace. With no one around, the silence allowed for absolute concentration. There was no wind, no calls of nearby wildlife, nothing. I could close my eyes and enter an unconscious state without even trying. That's exactly what I found myself doing within the inner sanctum of the castle. My eyelids were lightly closed as I sat with my back straight as a board. In and out, my breaths came at a pace similar to when one was sleeping. For the first time in what felt like years, I felt at peace.

"So, this is where you ran off to."

My eyes fluttered open. Standing a few feet from me was the youngest of the white-haired siblings. Lykke. It appeared that the sorrow that plagued her the last time we met was wiped away as she beamed at me. She looked much like her siblings in terms of basic appearance - hair white like snow and eyes as red as an apple - but unlike the others, her otherworldly beauty came across with her youthful charm. Where her elder siblings had sharper features, hers were soft and rounded. She even had freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose that accentuated her pale skin. Her eyes sparkled with a certain naivety that reminded me of the young maids who worked in the Crystal Palace. Yet, I wasn't sure if I could truly say the goddess was naïve. I had little doubt that she knew all too well the cruelty of the world.

Lykke offered me her hand with a bright smile, her teeth seeming to glimmer, "Take a walk with me."

With a small nod, I took her hand and allowed her to pull me to my feet. Though she didn't look it, the goddess possessed the same supernatural strength I did. She lifted me from my seat with ease. I followed her from the room, and we began to traverse the halls of the palace. Her pace was swift, and I dared not take my eyes off her. Though I had been here for what began to feel like days, I didn't know my way around. If she were to disappear, I doubted I would be able to find my way back.

We walked in silence; my steps barely audible as I trod across the stone floor. No matter how much of the palace I saw, it never failed to leave me in awe. The architecture was much more evolved than that of the kingdom. Just where was this magnificent structure? Whenever I slowed to admire the building, Lykke would stop and smile at me. Though she looked many years younger than me, we must have looked like a parent and child traversing a festival. The two of us must have been quite a sight.

After a while, we finally came to a stop. Lykke led me to a room I had yet to explore. Like the rest of the palace, the ceiling loomed high overhead. This only made the contents of the room much more impressive. Each wall was covered to the ceiling in bookshelves full of ancient texts. I stared in awe, my steps slowing as I basked in the sight before me. Even the Toshokan didn't have nearly these many books. Located in Kyōwakoku, Toshokan was home to the Aeshivarian scribes, a group of men dedicated to keeping records of every written source to be released on the continent. There had to be hundreds if not thousands of books there, but this library dwarfed their collection.

"May I ask you a question?" I finally inquired, running my hand along the spine of a book that looked a thousand years older than me.

Sitting down, Lykke glanced up at me and chirped, "Of course."

"Why have I never heard stories of you before? I would think that the creators of man and the gods of Aeshivar would be a fairy tale told to the smallest children. So, why is it that before I came here, I had never even heard your names in passing?"

Lykke's smile faltered, breaking her youthful persona. She paused for a moment, fiddling with the gold fabric of her dress. I crossed the room to sit across from her. Had I misspoken? Perhaps I shouldn't have asked about their family being abandoned by humanity. Was that an insensitive topic for gods? Was I being disrespectful? I didn't have the slightest idea. Up until I had woken here, I didn't believe in any beings such as gods.

"As my brother said, it has been a millennium since we left Aeshivar," she began slowly, mulling over her thoughts before continuing, "And it has been even longer still since we last interacted with the humans. It is likely that over time they just forgot about us. Such is the fate of our kind. We do not interfere with the world of humans, so they do not know us."

I nodded thoughtfully. It made sense. If the last human they had spoken with truly was Branwenn Rhosyn, it had to have been nearly two thousand years. Perhaps my family was the only one to know of the existence of the gods. We had received our power from them according to her. Yet, I felt a sadness in Lykke as she answered. As if she had held back part of the story. It was sad enough to be forgotten by those you created. What more could there be?

"Now," Lykke began, leaning forward, "you must answer a question for me."

"Naturally," I agreed, "I will provide you with an answer to the best of my abilities."

"Tell me, do you remember nothing of your death?" the goddess inquired, her brow furrowing as she scanned my face. "Nothing at all?"

I shook my head once. Since I had awakened here, I spent countless hours attempting to recover my memories. Unfortunately, none of my attempts proved successful. My mind was completely blank following my dream the night before my execution. There were some details I could fill in based on my circumstances. Obviously, I had died. I also retained the memory of endless sorrow. From what, I had no idea. It was confusing and often the cause of fierce migraines.

"Is it uncommon for a soul to forget its last moments of life?" I asked, running my fingers over the fabric of my dress.

Lykke turned away from me. I watched her white hair settle around her. After the time I spent with her, I still found it hard to believe that I had found others who looked just like me. Within the Kingdom of Etherea, I had been ridiculed for my appearance. Beside Prince Cade, I resembled a ghost. Some would say I looked like an angel. More often, I would hear them call me a demon. Surrounded by Lykke and her siblings who claimed to be gods, I didn't know who to believe.

"It is not a rare occurrence," she admitted, hesitating, "However..."

"What is it?"

"Usually when a soul dies, their happy memories are what guide them through death. It is my role to draw out those memories in passing souls. But when a soul does not have memories of happiness, or if their death was violent enough to outweigh those memories, that is when a soul will forget its last living moments," finished a voice coming from the doorway.

Lykke looked up, her eyebrows raised as she exclaimed, "Sister! When did you arrive?"

The eldest sister, Cille, strode into the room, her movements absolutely silent. Of the siblings, I found Cille the most unsettling. Cille's eyes were her most defining feature. They were the same blood-red as her siblings, but cloudy and never focused on anything. I knew well enough that she was blind. She had been the only one not to utter a word when I arrived at Helligdom. Instead, she just stared down at me, as if studying me in detail.

Then there was her uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere. They were all able to do so, yet it disturbed me more that she could. Though Jerrik had called this place their home of many millennia, I found it hard to believe that Cille was able to navigate the castle's labyrinth without trouble. I knew several people without the ability to see and none of them moved about with the ease that Cille did. Even if she was a god, it was too eerie.

"That does not matter," Cille replied, turning to face me, "Child of Shadows, do you wish to regain some of your memories from the day of your death?"

"Yes," I answered without hesitation.

"I cannot guarantee that you will be able to decipher anything from what I show you," Cille warned, "All I can do is pull images that your subconscious deems important. There are infinite possibilities to the truth behind what you will see. Also, if your last living moments were truly traumatic enough to erase your memories, there may be severe backlash from forcing them from your subconscious. Are you sure that you are still willing to do this?"

"I am."