The Crown Chakra King

The Crown Chakra King

By H. Leigh

King Moore was not always known as the Crown Chakra King. Before he found his alpacas of the light, King Moore’s chakras were blocked and dormant. The only thing lighting the king’s inner fire was his ego. Relentlessly, it pushed him to be his best.

Once a week, King Moore would hike to the top of the highest hill that looked over his lustrously, grand kingdom. Moore would reminisce being a child and having endless adventures throughout the castle. Tears would gather in his eyes when he gazed upon the Royal Garden. He spent many afternoons running through the flower bed aisles with his parents.

The royal family would often have lunch by the pond, listening to the wind sweeping over the water, while the wood warblers sang in the treetops. Fully content frogs would bellow raspy moans whenever they had a full stomach. Dazzling butterflies with wings that shimmered in the sunlight flew amongst bees. So often, King Moore would try and catch the one he thought was most beautiful. His father would always tell him no. That some treasures were only meant to be seen. It was in those moments; King Moore’s father saw the endless thirst in his son's eyes. The very force he himself struggled to tame.

When King Moore was fourteen, the old king of the Eastern Kingdom invaded the Kingdom of Moore. Eastern warriors were ruthless. They used their swords and axes to sley every living being they could. Pools of curdling blood covered the streets. Houses and shops were set on fire just to glorify the essence of madness.

Before joining the soldiers to defend the kingdom, King Moore’s father locked Moore in a cellar with ten guards. He told the guards that if he wasn’t back in an hour to flee the castle with the prince. The guards protecting Moore were terrified. They too had heard of the ferocity of the Eastern Kingdom’s army. This was obvious to Prince Moore, because all he could hear were the sounds of worrisome knees shaking underneath steel braces and heavy breathing that steamed the room.

While Moore cradled himself in a corner that was covered in cobwebs, he wondered where his mother was. He also worried for his father whose body had long ago tired of battle.

As chains were removed from the cellar door, the guards prepared for the possibility of the enemy's sword. Thankfully, it was only Moore soldiers.

“Bring the king,” shouted the guard who opened the cellar. The other guards turned to each other confused.

“The king went to fight,” a guard responded.

“The boy is the king now.”

King Moore’s father was beheaded. His mother’s throat was slit after being raped by monstrous, soul-starved eastern varmint knights. The defeat of the Eastern Army was narrow at best. It was then King Moore decided that he would become a great warrior and protect his home at all cost.

*

By the time Moore was twenty-two, all he knew was what he could conquer. Moore had no queen by his side or children running through the royal halls. His sense of family was shattered when he lost his parents. What was important to Moore was succeeding in his endeavors. The very plans that would ensure the security of his realm.

First, Moore conquered the Southern Kingdom. Wild Plain Sorrows was what they called the battle for the south lands. Bodies of both friends and foes stacked fifteen feet high, before flesh was burned down to grains of matter. Ceremoniously, monsoon winds scattered piles of ash off scorched bones.

Dwellers of the south spoke confidently when they said the soil never forgave the senseless deaths. For six years, many hungry bared witnessed to the struggling seeds that would never sprout. Some would say the mother of the soil was grieving. That it would take her time to process the many lives whose blood had seeped into her consciousness.

Like the countless kings before him, King Moore suffered from the endless thirst. Fears of having less than others made the king feel vulnerable. This insecurity gave him darkened circles of obsession underneath his eyes. Physiologically, a buildup of desires in the body creates a great deal of tension. The sense of hunger leaves one strategizing and questioning.

When the stakes of war, resources, and power took over Moore’s reality, a paranoia developed within him. Those who were once his close friends became his suspected enemies. Moore’s father had educated him on power and jealousy. His father explained the best way to test the true intentions of a man was to; give him a position of power that required integrity, a small sac of gold, and a seat at the table.

Accompanying Moore’s paranoia was his loss of compassion. His closed heart confined his reality to a limited path. Whilst, the extent of his faith was tied to the strength of his army and his reserves of gold.

*

During a full moon night, after the battle for the Western Kingdom, an apprentice painter loosened his wrist to capture the most infamous image of the king. In the portrait, Moore was sitting on a dead king’s thrown, covered in dried blood, and rummaging through a jewel chest. Soldiers were dancing around him. Each were raising their glasses high into the air, spilling their libations and singing songs of victory.

Jalin, the king’s only friend and advisor, journaled that as soon as the king returned from the West, he called a war meeting to plan the invasion of the Eastern Kingdom. During the meeting, King Moore decided that the army would set for the east in two weeks.

The king’s counsel did not protest against the decision, though they wanted to. None could understand the king’s compulsion. Both the south and west battles had given the king a surplus of gold, land, and resources. Even doting princesses were vying for the king’s hand in marriage. From the eyes of all but the king, Moore had no reason to need.

*

Worriment was high throughout the realm with only one week left until the invasion. Some soldiers did not want to fight again so soon. Royal officials were fearful of a possible defeat and for the sanity of their king.

Forever diligent, King Moore had become barbarous with his war preparation demands. He ordered that the soldiers go through rigorous training three times a day. Royal engineers worked tirelessly to fulfill the king’s requests for swifter arrows, catapults that could handle more fire, and poisons that could infect food and water supplies. After being instructed to oversee the building of cages for child slaves, Jalin knew he was about to lose the last bit of goodness in his king.

*

It was three nights before the battle of the east when Jalin decided to commit treason. In the neighboring town of FlorNor, Jalin knew of an elder healer named, Bova Sue. Bova was renowned for her potions that could shift a being’s soul into another reality.

After dinner with the king, Jalin snuck through the castle tunnels, which led to the main road outside of the city. Jalin’s steed was galloping with the wind. Holding both his courage and fears close to his heart, Jalin refused to give attention to thoughts of guillotines and prison cells. All he wanted to do was save a friend he loved.

Bova Sue opened the door before Jalin could knock. Suspiciously, she examined Jalin. Then she ushered him inside. Jalin entered the cottage and quickly turned to the healer.

“I was told the healer was an old woman,” Jalin stated.

“Others say I am old, but I believe I am young and beautiful. Have a seat by the fireplace, king advisor!”

The healer's cottage was filled with overgrown plants, bottled herbs, and books. Smells of peppermint and clove were lingering in the air. Jalin and the healer sat on rickety chairs seated by the fireplace. Bova poured Jalin a cup of tea. She then handed him a glass bottle wrapped in cloth. Slowly, Jalin uncovered the bottle. In the light of the fire, he examined the violet-colored liquid.

“What’s in it?” Jalin questioned.

“Full moon water bottled on the night the Western Kingdom was conquered. Also, there’s granules of amethyst, ampholyte, healing light, sage, and a healer’s secrets.”

“Will it kill him?”

“It’s not intended to,” answered Bova. Jalin side eyed the healer.

“I will not be responsible for killing my king.” The healer placed her hand on Jalin’s forehead.

“Then have faith in my goodness.” Jalin could feel the calm energies that emanated from the healer’s soul. Once Jalin was able to relax the healer removed her hand.

“The tonic must be poured into his morning drink. It takes a few hours to take effect.” Bova explained.

“When must the king take the potion?” Jalin asked.

“Today!”

“Today!” exclaimed Jalin.

“Yes. Today is the night of the half moon. Its energy helps restore inner balance.” Jalin closed his eyes as he reconsidered his actions.

“What will happen to him?”

“The blocks in his chakras will be removed.”

“And then?”

“You must hope he can see the light.”

*

Jalin returned to the castle before the king awoke. Once he mustered up the strength, he made his way to the king‘s private dining room. King Moore was in good spirits that morning. Already he was feeling the adrenaline of battle.

“Jalin, there you are. We have much to discuss.” Jalin bowed to the king.

“Good morning, my king. How are you feeling?”

“Better than ever. I can hear the drums of battle now. Soon, my parents will be avenged.” Drips of sweat slivered from Jalin’s temple as he struggled to respond.

“I’m glad you’re feeling well, my king.”

“Tell me, have the slave cages been attached to the wagons yet?” Nearly frozen in uncertainty, Jalin looked back at the armed guards by the doorway. The king glanced at Jalin’s soaking armpits. “Jalin you’re perspiring like you’ve been training with my new mercenaries. Are you feeling unwell? Jalin?” Jalin turned back to the king.

Maintaining his bravery, Jalin responded to the king, “Forgive me, my king. There’s so much going on this morning and as you know war makes me sweat.” The king chuckled. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift from the only man I trust. Bring it here please!” Jalin handed the bottle of tonic to the king. King Moore muttered to himself while he examined the tonic. Jalin turned back to the guards. Awkwardly, he smiled at them. “Is this a wine?”

“It’s a morning vitality serum. It will make you strong for battle.” Moore jolted forward in his seat. He eagerly popped the cork on the bottle. After taking a swift sniff, King Moore chugged the tonic till the very last drop.

Moore belched like a playful child. Then resumed eating his breakfast. With no sign of foam coming out the king’s mouth, Jalin was able to breathe a little.

“How long will it take to I feel a change in my vigor?” King Moore asked.

“Hopefully by evening time, my king.”

“Your king is lucky to have you. Now what about those cages. I’ve been told orphaned children can be trained to be the best of fighters.”

“I will go and check with the carpenters now.”

“Perfect. Report back to me as soon as you have an update.”

“Yes, my king.” Just as Jalin turned to leave, the king cleared his throat.”

Moore thrusted his knife into his piece of sausage. “Check on the council members while you're at it.”

“Of course, my king.”

*

Moore struggled to focus during his war strategy meeting. He felt a mysterious force pulsating within him. When Jalin asked the king how he was feeling, Moore got up from his seat and announced that he wanted to go for a hike alone. Royal guards were confused by the king’s request. Jalin was absolutely terrified.

King Moore could not recall the last time he hiked the hill that overlooked the kingdom. With each step he took through the woods, the grip of his responsibilities loosened from his spirit. Finally, he could breathe.

Moore took a seat at the top of the hill. While gazing in the reviving rays of the sun, he felt a pinch in the center of his forehead. The sensation was so sharp the king cried out in surprise. Right when he felt the pain subside, the king felt another pinch along his heart. Then he felt another under his chest and at the base of his stomach.

Sharp bolts of pain rushed throughout Moore’s body. Unable to bare the sudden torment, Moore fell over into the grass cradling himself. An eagle circled above the king, while wolves howled from a distance. The final pinch Moore felt was at the base of his head. It was in that moment that he was able to view his actions from the eyes of his people.

Feelings of guilt and shame washed over King Moore. Bloodshed, greed, and insecurities were confronting Moore’s ego. He cried out for forgiveness. Through a choked voice he asked the spirits of the forest to help him clear the darkness surrounding his soul. As the negative energies were released from his spirit, Moore saw a bright light before him. Then he heard his father’s voice.”

“What makes a good king, my son?” Old King Moore asked.

“Father, I was wrong. I thought that if I conquered it all, I could feel safe and empowered. That the pain I felt as a boy would go away.” The warm light surrounded the cocooned King Moore. As the light penetrated his spirit, Moore could feel the convulsions of grief ease throughout his body. “Father, I’ve been reckless with lives, and my soul.”

“In states of unsatisfaction, we fail to see the divinity within ourselves and others. I had to learn the hard way that the purpose of life is not to have. It is to be. Stand up my son! Walk through your lands and witness the abundance before you. Make amends with your people, and stay in the light.”

“I will father. I promise.”

“Take my alpacas of the light with you. So that your true path remains clear.”

King Moore got onto his feet. He thanked the forest spirits for their assistance. When the king removed his crown and jewels, he saw himself differently. Without his emblems of excellence, King Moore finally understood that he was no better and no worse than any other living being.

*

There were many things Moore and his alpacas saw during their walk through the city: beggars, children playing, wounded soldiers with multiple amputations, widowed women selling their bodies while breast feeding their babies, lively bars, street dancers, people gambling, pain hungry men fighting for sport, and signs that read, ‘Fear the realm of bloodshed and war. King Moore no more’.

The reality of Moore’s actions was written on his weary face. His guards didn’t even recognize him when he approached the castle. An anxious Jalin ran to stop them from arresting the king.

“GUARDS STOP! THAT IS YOUR KING. DO NOT TOUCH HIM!” Jalin crouched down to help the king up. “My king, I was so worried.” The king looked up at Jalin with tears streaming from his eyes.

“Jalin, your tonic has healed me. Please, alert the citizens to come to the castle square. Then ask the chefs to prepare a feast.”

“Yes, my king. What shall I do with your alpacas?”

“They stay with me!”

*

The realm was abuzz with gossip of the king’s strange behavior and scheduled announcement. Many feared they would be told to set out for war a day early. Jalin was still unsure of the king’s mental wellness and if the invasion of the Eastern Kingdom would be stopped.

Once the citizens were gathered in the square; Moore, Jalin, and the alpacas made their way to the grand lookout point. Royal horns announced the king’s entrance. As Moore faced his moment of justice, he scanned the faces of his people. He could see the loss of favor in their eyes. Using the contempt energies as motivation, Moore gently raised his hand for silence.

“My people, it is with great pleasure that I announce that there will be no invasion of the Eastern Kingdom.” Gasps of shock expelled from many in the crowd. “I have caused a great deal of distress and I, your king, am so very sorry. I was afraid that what happened to my parents would happen to me. Please forgive me and give me time to right my wrongs.”

Jalin bent forward astounded. King Moore watched as people cried and cheered. In the sky, clouds were parting to reveal the mending sun.

*

After the feast, King Moore, Jalin, and the two alpacas stargazed in the Royal Garden. King Moore told Jalin of his plans to give financial aid to war widows and wounded soldiers. He also instructed Jalin to send resources to the south until their soil healed. Lastly, he requested that Jalin draft a peace treaty for the Eastern Kingdom. Jalin was more than happy to fulfill the king’s request.

“My king, you still haven’t told me where you got the alpacas.”

“They’re a gift from my father.”

“But-”

“Jalin, I’d like to change my name.”

“To what?” Jalin curiously asked.

“The Crown Chakra King.” Jalin didn’t bother to wonder if the king was joking.

“How did you think of that?”

“I don’t know. It just came to me.”