The Madura Prophesy: Chapter One

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Not too long ago, during the Midline era, humans and dragons remained separated by two worlds. Long before that, during the Old World, the two tribes roamed the same earth. The Spirit world, where the dragons tread, and the Physical world, were one. Both lived in harmony, until the humans’ hearts became corrupted by desire and lust; they wanted to have the Spirit world all to themselves. This desire grew, and unchecked, became untamed. A great war broke out, and many lives were lost. The great prophet, Ali Madura, sealed the Spirit world from the physical so there would be no more bloodshed. The Council of Kesper maintains the energetic barrier between both worlds… up until recent circumstances. The ruler of the Physical world is Queen Shahara. The ruler of the Spirit world is Lord Wei. You must know all this, child. For one day, you too will be the Queen’s right hand.”

A fire blazed in the hearth, illuminating the dark room and cast a warm glow upon black pine walls. The flame danced and crackled, lighting an old leathered face. A noticeably large scar at the top of the man’s forehead showed. Sonova, a young girl of small stature, sat at the end of a small, ragged table butchered from oakwood. All that could be heard was the dimmed roaring of the flame and the tip tap of water dripping from the ceiling into a bucket. Her dark eyes, wide and observant, watched the old man bring a pipe to his wrinkled lips and breathed in, exhaling a black cloud of smoke that filled the room. His gaze followed the dancing flame with a look she noticed as peace. His bright, joyful eyes met hers, and he smiled.

She still remembered her grandfather’s words; the old voice that rasped with roughness, the huff and puff of tobacco smoke that traveled throughout the home and warmed her insides with a comforting smell. She remembered the stories he would tell her of the Old World, as they would garden in the fields and gather sweet blue and red berries that would stain her dress and fingers. She remembered days she would spend in the woods, playing with the fairies and the sweet smell of peonies she would gather in her woven basket and put in her hair. She would come home at evening, when the sun would cast a golden glow through the trees and upon the ground. She could still smell the garden; moist dirt and cloves and pungent flowers. She missed all this very much. She missed home.

The woman Sonova, reminiscing about her childhood in a great library, picked up the holy Jazar and flipped through the massive leather-bound book. She read an excerpt from the page:

The Queen must exceed a maintained level of poise, precision, and power. She must hold herself as a virgin goddess, and carry the wrath of an army of dragons. She must be as gentle as a maiden, and as compassionate and loving as a fairy. She must be fearless as well as strong. She must embody authority as well as forgiveness. She is the One Chosen to bridge the two worlds.

— from the Jazar

By the Prophet Ali Madura

A waterfall of sunlight entered the Great Hall, spilling and dripping down furniture like liquified gold. From a great big window where sunlight spilled through the space, a raven sat perched on a gold plated sill. People whispered in excitement and tip-toed about. Exotic chairs, tables, couches, and embroidered things were being replaced and moved around. Groups of women scuttled about, speaking in hushed voices and giggling in anticipation. Men wandered about, lifting heavy objects, pointing things out, making notes. The great double doors stood ajar, from which children ran to and from through the halls, their feet pitter pattering and joyful laughter echoing throughout the palace. Colorful garlands of rose pinks, purples, yellows, and oranges were being arranged by a number of young girls. There was much bustling and child-like excitement in Castle Kanh that morning.

The Queen sat upon her embellished throne. She was terrifying and beautiful at once; her mane of midnight skies cascaded down her shoulders, beads and jewels knotted within its thick glimmering strands. Her dress hugged her body, gold painted by hand it twinkled and sparkled as a trillion stars and trailed below her feet to the bottom of her throne. Jewelry draped across her sun-kissed skin; diamonds, rubies, emeralds of remarkable vibrancy. Thick rings of engraved platinum decorated her small, thin fingers. Wonderful and mystical patterns decorated her shining skin; of ancient stories and battles fought. Her deep indigo eyes, fixed upon the gold Valley beyond the crescent hills, showed no sign of emotion.

A young woman stopped in front of the Queen and curtsied. “My Lady, you look absolutely remarkable! I am so excited for today’s Jubilee! Would you like some Blue Lotus tea picked fresh from the river?”

The Queen looked down in front of her throne at the woman with love and affection. She noticed the dark stains on her white dress and chuckled with entertained humor. “Sonova, may you please go and get the Council? And by the good lord, change that dress. Have you been out in the woods again?”

“Yes’m! I’ve also harvested many herbs from the edge of the river. They’re great to make as medicine!” The woman curtsied and left the great hall. Queen Shahara continued fixing her attention upon the Valley. A feeling of uneasiness came upon her.

“Mother, I have to say, you do look stunning today.” A small, seemingly charming boy, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, with light blonde hair stood with a big smile at the bottom of her throne.

“It’s been a very long time! I couldn’t miss your special day, could I? That would have been very disrespectful of me.” The young boy grinned, purposefully showing a gleam of mischief in his icy blue eyes.

The Queen frowned with recognition. Phyne…how did he get here? “What have you been up to, child?”

The boy Phyne glanced sideways. “More like, what have you been up to, ma’am. I’ve seen you watching the Valley. You are quite good at hiding your thoughts. You are not deliberate or nearly sneaky enough to escape my curious eye. For once, do say. Tell me what you have been thinking.”

The Queen felt irritation rise within her. She hid resentment in her words: “You have quite the tongue, demon. You have not walked this land anywhere near as long as I have. You do not understand anything. Do leave, your presence sickens me at times."

The boy blushed red. “M’lady, I mean only the utmost respect. I only joke! I am not a demon, I am a-” The towering woman glared at the small boy, and he immediately stopped talking and looked down, studying his feet as if it were the most interesting thing. “Now then,” Queen Shahara spoke to the many people in the castle, "It has begun.” She watched the same raven fly out the double doors toward the Valley.

The moon cast a brilliant glow through ghostlike silk curtains that blew in the cool night breeze. It was a silent night; none could be heard, not even the chirping of crickets or hooting of owls. The Queen woke with a start. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She got up from her bed and, grabbing her bear skin robe that hung upon the wall, lit a lantern with a strike-match. She opened a drawer beside her bed and slid her hand under a brown cloth, revealing an engraved knife of glowing milk white. She slipped the knife into her black scaled boots that she buckled tight to her shins. Opening the great wooden door that creaked, she walked down the dark hall lit by glowing torches; tiny suns that dotted extravagant walls and cast an orange-yellow ambience. Moonglow seeped through the windows and fell upon the stairs as a milky white river that flowed downward. She walked down the staircase that ended at the Great Hall, her feet echoing throughout the space and pushed opened the double doors. She took one glance behind her before she stepped out of the castle and left.