Keepers of the Crown

  Keepers of the Crown

  Copyright 2019

  Lydia Redwine

  All rights reserved. Cover art by Brenna Nance

  Keepers of the Crown

  By Lydia Redwine For

  Luke,

  Priscilla, and Phoebe

  The Between Realm, the Third Age

  (map by Lydia Redwine)

  Before, Now, and After

  “Ihad brothers once,” I say. My voice is an echo of the ancients.

  A mourn. A scoff. “But...I betrayed them.” I shift inward when the darkness folds itself around me. The darkness I’ve summoned for myself. “My brothers...their wings were more...magnificent. The first brother’s were fashioned of gold, but the weight was nothing to hinder him. They...rippled in the city. Like a banner proclaiming the way of Elyon. He was the only one with golden wings.

  “The second brother’s wings were like shimmering sapphires threaded with silver. When I asked him why he would not give up his wings for those of Elyon’s Son, he scoffed.

  “And I...the only one with wings fabricated of ash and smoke. The one who would indeed give them up. Or try to.” I pause, allowing my cold breath to kiss the darkness around me. Darkness...my friend and my foe.

  “I betrayed my brothers for my own form of beauty and for my own ambition.”

  The thought sinks into me and shifts my wings. “Tales of war and bloodshed come from the Between Realm, that which lies between Caelae and the Realm of Shadows. But what most do not know is that the wars of Caelae were far...worse.”

  Yes, I can see it now, just as clear as when they were first fought.

  “Broken wings drippingcrimson about shatteredcities of starlight. Bones like diamonds, the foundation of a ruinous place. Caelae was once beautiful, but also...brutal. Brutal because two of its princes fought for its throne. One to defend it in light and honor with wings burnished of gold. And the other…to capture it with beauty and cruelty. With wings of smoke and ash. And when princes battle, they wear their crowns. Their regalty become but instruments. And in the end…one must lose.

  “We fought three battles once Elyon had designed and placed the heavenly bodies. He had named them after us, his favored creatures of Caelae. To the brother with golden wings he gave the sun, to the brother with wings like the sea he gave the moon, and to me...the one who would betray him, he gave the stars. Of course, the stars do not belong to me. Even you, as a human, would never begin to think of them in my likeness. They are a reminder to me...that I will never be as numerous, as loved, as brilliant and adored.

  “That is what we named the battles: the Battle of the Stars, the Battle of the Moon, the Battle of the Sun. A war fought in three parts for each of its participating princes. Both my brothers fought against me, and so you must know how it ended.

  “I lost, but, human, I am still fighting. The wars you see in your own world, in the Between Realm, are birthed of what I have already fought. The wars you encounter are but shards of the ones I have summoned. And even while the battles in Caelae were far more brutal than you shall ever witness, the battle over your souls is somehow even more valuable. To everyone. To my Enemy and to myself.”

  I pause to stare at you.“Yes, you. I am speaking to you. You see, in this world, it is Elyon that writes your story, but I am the one to tell it. You see, just as Elyon gave me the stars, he also gave me the Between Realm. The Realm of Shadows is where I dwell, but it is the Between Realm in which I roam until it is brought to utter ruin.

  If I am to be brought to ruin, so will you and your home. Yours truly,

  Lucius, Prince of the Between Realm and Traitor of Caelae

  Why I might bother: I will lose the war over your souls. I already have. Elyon’s promises are nothing to be trifled with. So why might I bother in this war? Elyon gives you a gift when you are born. That gift is the ability to choose. A gift I myself was given. I made a choice just as you will. This choice lies between Him and yourself. My desire is to have you choose yourself, and quite frankly steal you from Elyon and have you cut and pierced for eternity. Perhaps, by sweeping you from Elyon’s grasp, I will have won something. I remain frank at this moment, disclosing all schemes to you, but you will forget. Your memory of these words will fade, and I will continue to pluck at your fleshly desires so that I may ultimately destroy you.

  Dear human, I may not defeat your maker, but I can certainly defeat you.

  Yours truly,

  Lucius

  One

  A crown of intricate, silver designs framing a purple diadem lie in the snow, forgotten for the moment. A burden and a choice left to rest.

  “Just one moment…” Elizabeth breathed into the icy air. Her breath felt like ash on her tongue. Too heavy… One moment just for herself. To just feel...feel that missing part of her that had died with the body of her husband now buried twelve feet beneath the snow. Six feet for commoners...twelve for royals.

  Two months prior to the revolt of Apollyon, Queen Elizabeth of Nazeria was held erect in an empty graveyard surrounded by a vast forest. Her newborn son was held within her arms, swaddled in woolen clothes. Tears did not reveal her sadness, but sorrow clung to her like the shrouds the whole nation now wore. The sickness had infested the court but not the common people, strangely enough. Brought by a foreigner, leavingdeath in his wake. It hadstruck thequeen’s husbandlast. The...sickness still clung to the queen. Not the sickness of the plague or disease or whatever had been in the climate. But the loneliness.

  “Not having the will to eat or wake or birth a child or live...but…” The young woman peered down at her son whose rosy cheeks gleamed beneath shut eyes. He breathed evenly in his blissful sleep.

  Elizabeth lifted her glazed eyes towards the forest before her. The location of the excluded royal graveyard, being far from the rest of her people, meant a many mile trek back to the castle. But she liked the long walks, even when the air was bitter. It provided a distraction. She would count the steps. And if it became too weary of a task…. well, they would send a carriage anyway. No matter her protestations.

  Elizabeth bent to the crown lying in the snow and placed it once more in her snow-dusted, russet hair while clutching her child in her other arm. “One, two, three…” the numbers droned in her mind as she began walking, but another thought sizzled behind it. “I am the sole ruler of Nazeria…” Her people were united, at least. They had been united against the sickness, hardly any of them fleeing to save themselves but remaining...for her. The thought choked a sob from her throat. “Elyon has sent me citizens of Caelae.” She smiled.

  The baby in her arms began to cry as he awoke. Hunger bid him to protest in her arms. Hunger ravaged the queen’s own stomach. “I ate this morning...as tasteless as it was-” she reminded herself even as the slight quiver of fear that she hadn’t eaten, had to eat, pricked the back of her mind. Habit. One molded over the months in mourning for her dead love. Her heart twisted in her chest as she looked at her crying son. A poor, yet fortunate child who did not know the reason for his mother’s mourning.

  Elizabeth remembered the remaining walk to the castle as a blur. Feeding her son as a blur. And finally,...sleep.

  A knock drew her sharply from her slumber.

  Her crown, which she had placed at her side, rolled to the floor with a thunk as she jolted up. “Yes, Simeon?” she inquired in a quiet voice as the door edged open to reveal the robed, old man beyond it.

  The voice which followed his entrance was calm and kind even as his expression was solemn. “My Queen, I come bearing news from our allies in Mirabelle. Lord Caddell has begun to suspect his fellow Royals of treachery. ‘Something sinister in scheming,’ he says.” The man’s brown eyes framed by silver hair were earnest.
>
  The queen nodded as she straightened on the sofa she had fallen asleep on. “We will make a sacrifice for them,” she decided. “Take that which we separated for the last moon feast, and use it to send a plea to Elyon. Perhaps, He will spare our allies…” the queen trailed off, her voice growing soft and far away.

  She tried, then, to rise before her most trusted advisor but sunk to her seat immediately as blood rushed to her head.

  “My Queen,” Simeon started slowly, “have you...eaten recently?” So, he knew.

  He had probably known for quite some time now about the state of her mind in relation to eating. It used to be simple, partaking in a meal. Not anymore. As these thoughts came into Elizabeth’s mind, she clenched her fists and her jaw at the same time. She tried to straighten her shoulders and put on the mask she always wore for her people. A mask she hoped would distract them from her ever-thinning form and paling complexion. With Simeon, however, it just wouldn’t work. Her shoulders sagged, and slowly, she shook her head.

  Her lips quivered, as though she had something to add but could not form the words. Simeon noticed this and neared her with expectancy in his face. His voice was quiet and gentle. “I will send for something warm.” His hand landed comfortingly on her shoulder.

  Elizabeth nodded. “Andin the meantime,” she continued with a voice now more resolved, “I have found…something I believe is of great importance.” Though the room the two occupied was far from the rest of the castle, she contained her tone to a low whisper.

  Simeon looked at her with further expectancy. Elizabeth's eyes drifted to the painting just beyond where her advisor now sat. Framed in silver were two persons: a man with hair the darkest shade of russet gold and a woman with hair as silver as the frame. Her parents. Both wearing crowns. Equals. Simeon did not have to turn to know where his queen looked. He knew the painting well. He had seen it produced all those years ago when Queen Hananiah and King Azariah were young and fierce and establishing their own land among the people they had rescued.

  Elizabeth rose, at last, to procure from a shadowed corner a small chest. “My parents…they left a chest of valuables behind. Ifoundit recentlywithin mylatemother’s bedchamber.” Simeon noticed how worn the box was. How faded and unlike anything else in the polished, royal chamber. The queen’s voice was still low. “Do you recognize this?”

  Simeon shook his head. Elizabeth opened it slowly and peered inside. When she lifted her eyes from its contents, she told her advisor, “I have found that articles and documents of great importance are within this chest. Such things as these my parents protected. They will come to be of great value in the days to come. To us…and to Mirabelle.”

  Thequeen watchedher advisor’s fingers begin to tremble at the nearness of the chest. His gaze was widened when he met her eyes. “Pardon, my lady, but why do you share this with me?”

  Elizabeth smiled sadly. “I trust you most among those of the court. Your years are many, and with them has come wisdom. You are one who awaits a day when Elyon will send us hope. You have heard of the legends of a savior. I hold now in my hands the written words of Elyon through the hands of the Watchers."

  Simeon’s eyes widened. “May I see what is inside?”

  She handed him the chest, and the stooped, elderly man took it with cautious hold. He saw within many small rolls of parchment bound tightly with string. The yellowed paper was wrinkled beneath his curious fingers. At the bottom of the chest, he found a harder object: something even more unfamiliar than the chest itself. A stone, strung on a rusted chain, was set with four jewels: a diamond, an emerald, a sapphire, and a ruby. Around the chain was bound a slip of paper. Simeon lifted the necklace from the chest and unrolled the scrap around it.

  “To my son, Peter Adriel, that this may be a sign to trust Nazeria and protect the Crown,” Simeon read aloud though in a tone that was barely audible. The note was signed as “Daniel Adriel, Watcher, Spirit Follower.”

  “Spirit Follower…” Simeon murmured.

  The queen was nodding, as if affirming what he was reading was truly before his eyes.“Thewords ofwritten here ring true, the words we have heard for years, Simeon. You once told me stories, as did my parents, of other kingdoms, of a Crown of promise, of a Savior.”

  Simeon nodded assuredly. “They are not just tales told for the sake of telling them.”

  Elizabeth glanced once again into the chest as if to remind herself of what she had read mere days ago. “Many years ago, my parents, along with a man named Daniel Adriel, another called Mishael, and a woman written with a name of Ilea, were captors in Mingroth. They lived there after Enboria was besieged, having been captured by Mingroth’s king. This we know as true from the histories learned among our people.” The queen saw that Simeon listened intently, recognizing the history she was recounting.

  “What wewerenot aware of was that these five embarked on a quest and relocated the prophecies of old. Daniel himself was a Watcher. They also protected an artifact known as the Crown of Caelae. According to the words written here, this Crown is to become of great value in the coming days when, ‘the sun shall be turned to darkness, and the moon to blood, before thedayoftheSavior comes.’ The Crown will come to prominence at the time when the Prince of Caelae saves this realm from its curse.” Elizabeth finished somewhat breathless as if she were still processing what she had learned.

  Simeon nodded, a small smile forming on his face. “Your parents did not tell you stories for nothing, Elizabeth. You have heard of this Crown of Caelae before.”

  Yes, she had. When it had been merely a whisper among those who followed Elyon, who had been alienated by the others under the guise that they were sellers of their souls. Spirit Followers. The name had sounded like dirt. Now it sounded...sacred. “There is still more,” Elizabeth continued. “These words here say that Ilea, one of the protectors of the Crown, survived exile in the Mingroth but never came East, not to Mirabelle and not to our homeland. Assuming she remains alive, she is the only living person mentioned here that would know the whereabouts of the Crown.”

  Elizabeth watched her advisor’s brow furrow. “But why, my lady? And can we truly trust these words? How accurate are they to this day? They could have been scripted many centuries ago.”

  The queen shook her head. “The prophecies of Daniel were penned less than a score of years ago. The old prophecies we have come to know were penned and spoken by respected and known persons in our histories. Those other than this Ilea died in Mirabelle…” she trailed off and Simeon completed her thought.

  “During the Spirit Follower rebellion.”

  The queen nodded. “We must find this woman, Simeon, for if the Crown were to fall into the wrong hands…” Simeon was nodding, and Elizabeth knew that the creatures from their own realm were being listed in his mind. Shadow Bearers, Shedim…

  “Shall I send word to Mirabelle?” Simeon’s tone held resolve.

  “Yes, Simeon.That ismy request toyou. Sendwordto the Spirit Followers. We will make arrangements if and when they have resolved their issues with the leader of their Gnosi Realm. But in the meantime, while the word is being sent, we will make a sacrifice with what was left from the moon feast. It is the least we can do.”

  Simeon bent into a brief bow of respect before his queen. “Do not speak these words aloud to anyone other than myself and Lord Caddell of Mirabelle. If such things fall into the wrong hands, the Crown could be lost forever.”

  “Of course, my Queen. You have my word. And...I am sorry, truly sorry, for your loss. I regret not being able to make it to his burial.”

  “Everyone is. They loved him,” replied Elizabeth with a sad smile, “And you had been recovering from the sickness yourself.” Shepictured, then, in her mind her latehusband's rich brown skin and raven hair. And those rare, golden eyes that had always held laughter. It stung, the thought, that she had to picture it instead of seeing him with her own eyes.

  “We still have hope for Nazeria’s future, my Queen. You
know that, but it would do no harm to remind you. Your son will be king one day and…”

  “And I believe the Savior will be among us by then.”

  “You truly believe the time is close?”

  Elizabeth nodded, “Change and hope ride the wind.”

  Simeon bowed quickly and, before departing, said gently, “Try and eat, Elizabeth.” Disregarding the formal title of “my queen” made her smile. Just a bit.

  “Our conversation has given me a fresh purpose,” she said. Simeon’s smile was small but gratifying. “Also, take with you the stone necklace of Daniel. Return it to his son Peter.” When Simeon departed from her, Elizabeth rose to her feet. “The sun shall be turned to darkness, and the moon to blood, before the day of the Savior comes.” But outside the world was blindingly white. Too white even with a black sky and silver moon hanging within it.

  Elizabeth ate a full meal that night, thinking only of how soon Cole must receive her news.

  several months later…

  Thesky’s visage closely resembled a puddle after a spring rain,

  gray and wavering. It had rained copiously that spring. At times, in horrendous torrents and others in light drizzles. It had nurtured the earth of Mirabelle. The tree in the center of the Medulla Realm would now have been at its peak of a flourishing state. But instead, the tree lay forlornly on the ground, shriveled up, decaying branch by branch. One fact was known: Mirabelle had no magic.

  The concept seemed quite simple really, but in reality, no one in the nation knew how it had vanished. At least, no one who had yet stepped forward.

  Camaria Caddell stood behind the stone castle of the Medulla Realm’s center, surrounded by fallen branches and debris scattered in the wind. The overcast sky correlated the sight before her. The silvery leaves and fruit had vanished. Cam clenched her jaw against a headache forming from the swirling of her thoughts. With brows drawn together and arms crossed tightly over her chest, Cam stared at the fallen tree. She barely noticed that her two younger sisters, Adria and Mista, stood on either side of her, motionless.