The Divine

The vegetation sparkled with early morning dewdrops, and the Kingdom of Tarafin glowed with soft rays of sunlight. The soles of Euphymia’s feet touched the damp soil of Tera as she inhaled the scent of rain, letting the sweet essence fill her lungs with bliss. The breeze tousled her hair and tickled her cheeks like the playful kisses of a butterfly's wings. Or the comforting way her mother used to run her fingers through her hair and caress her with a gentle stroke of her hand. A smile slowly played upon her lips.  She started to run. The frantic voices from within the castle dissolved into distant murmurs, but it wouldn't be long before her father would send the guards after her. It wouldn't be long before the handmaidens would tug violently at the knots in her golden locks, scrub at the dirt on her cheeks, and paint over the scratches and scars from her battles with the rose bushes. "Perhaps it wouldn't hurt if you'd brush your hair once in a while, Lady Euphymia. A divine of the fae shouldn't be running around the grounds! Look at your feet, O' Lucem, they are as black as the daemons' hearts!" Viviana, the barrel-shaped, rosy-cheeked old maid would have said if she saw Euphymia now. Or if anyone saw her, really. But she wasn’t alone. She felt the ever lingering presence of Cade swiftly followed behind her as she slipped into the depths of the forest. He could sense her presence. Her aura ebb and flow in and out of his proximity, and whenever she drifted too far from what he deemed comfortable, he’d be there—because it was his duty to be.  Cade knew everything there was to know about the princess; from here whereabouts to the way her nose wriggled in displeasure from something too tart for her tastes, or her late night adventures to the gardens. He was perceptive of such things, yet he remained blissfully ignorant of the way her heart fluttered and cheeks flushed whenever the low timbre of his voice called her name.  “Why must you run wild, like this Euphymia?” Cade pleaded.  “Because it’s fun,” she drawled as she stopped in her tracks and turned to face him with satisfaction. She had reached her destination; a luscious green meadow decorated with tall mushrooms of varying in length, some towering far above their heads. “I dread the day you will outspeed me and your father will behead me for losing sight of you.”  “You’re being too theatrical, Cade, you know I always return,” she flashed a radiant smile, the kind that could hypnotize any man. In a fluid motion, she leapt onto a small mushroom that led to a staircase of more. Gracefully, she pranced along each one until she planted her toes firmly onto a massive mushroom that overlooked the entire meadow.  “Princess, you know I’m only looking out for your safety. You never know what could lurk within these trees,” his eyes worriedly scanned the area for anything that could cause even the slightest harm to the fae princess. “We can’t be too careless when there’s a daemon king on the throne.” “Oh relax, will you?” she rolled her eyes skyward. Cade was right though, and he knew it. The air felt warmer than usual. Something was definitely amiss. With a sweep of her arm, Euphymia gestured for the soldier to drop his guard and join her. He hesitated at first as his eyes sweeped the area for potential danger, but eventually his natural instincts succumbed to her alluring manner and launched himself atop the mushroom beside her. His movement wasn’t quite as balletic as hers had been, and as a consequence, birds and critters flocked out of the trees and away from the thunderous sounds of stomping feet and bustling armor.  “Look at this scene, doesn’t it just take your breath away?” Euphymia said with a breathy voice of an angel. Cade's eyes focused on the flutter of her long lashes, traced the edges of her cheeks, and watched the curves of her lips with longing.  “Yes, it does,” he breathed out the words as his cool, gray eyes fell on hers; a mesmerizing shade of cerulean blue. He quickly averted his gaze and furrowed his brow, attempting to remain a dignified man. A royal guard to the Princess of Tarafin. Nothing more, nothing less. Euphymia mistook his shifty behavior for a lack of interest, and once again shrugged away any signs of hope that something was between them. “Are you going to try again today?” Cade asked, changing the subject. “I’ve just come here to clear my head.” Her smile was faint but her eyes glistened with sparks of hope, “ If there is any chance of me resurrecting my magic, it won’t be while I’m bathing in the negative energy of the castle.” It was true. Her brother Novus never spoke to her, and her father treated her with the same disinterest; he never once prided her as his daughter. “With each passing season, our farms yield less crops than before. Our people will suffer more than they already have if we don’t do something.” While Tarafin was a land of breathtaking beauty and serene landscape, there was no doubt that the vegetation and life had weathered through harsh times. Without magic, the roots that settled deep within the soil of Tera had a thirst for power that could no longer be quenched.  Cade didn’t want to tell her that there was no hope, so in his cowardice he basked in the false safety of silence. He wouldn’t tell her that their birth-given magic wouldn’t return. He didn’t want to tell her that spell casting magic was just a legend. He didn’t want to dim the sparkling glimmer of hope that danced in her eyes. It was her devotion to the fae and her astounding resilience that he admired. It’s part of what made her so painstakingly beautiful. “Let’s go to the fields again. I have a new spell I can try, maybe it’ll do something this time.” Euphymia felt bitter yet hopeful and determined. Yet something wasn’t right and she felt it too. She felt it in the soles of her feet when she leapt down and her toes touched Tera once more. The dirt was warmer than usual, and the approaching clouds above were painted with an ominous red hue. It was a feeling reminiscent of nearly a decade prior, when the thunderous hooves of the black horses, and the vulgar chants and growls of the daemon warriors approached. Drakvol, the high daemon king, had come to conquer the fae in their moment of weakness–the death of the final ancient fae heart. The fae’s powers were severed from the mother heart, and it was the perfect time for the daemons to attack. The great elders and oracles of the fae believed the daemons stabbed the heart and as consequence, the balance of fae and daemon had been disrupted; one daemon prevailed all. Euphymia remembered King Drakvol's yellow eyes and sharp-toothed smile jeering up at her from the courtyard. She watched her father, helpless and desperate like a worm at the feet of a vulture. Drakvol ignored his pleas and caught sight of Euphymia’s golden locks shining through the glass window in the highest tower. He smiled vilely, the flames of Tarafin’s burning villages illuminating the sky behind him. She watched as the two opposing forces stood in the bailey of the Tarafin castle. Her father was on his knees, check-mated and cornered like the last standing pawn as Drakvol towered over him mercilessly. Their lips moved but the words were inaudible to her, and she could only anticipate the next few moments when Drakvol would surely behead her mother and father. Her heart sank to her stomach, but she couldn’t bear to look away.  Time stretched on, and her eyes caught sight of a boy; a daemon boy who stood out amongst the crowd of troll-like warriors surrounding him. She presumed that he was no older than seventeen, but his stern gaze reflected experience beyond his physical years. He rested atop a black stallion, and a bloody sword hung menacingly from his grip. It wasn’t the black crown that gave way to his identity, but the air of confidence in his posture. He was surely the crowned prince of the Az’godan Kingdom, and now all six kingdoms of Lucem. Drakvol’s gaze continued to burn into hers, and shortly after his son’s eyes followed. Drakvol returned his attention to King Tarafin, a malevolent smile still peeled across his lips, but the daemon prince didn’t take his eyes off Euphymia as he studied her. His expression softened as if he were taken by surprise. As if the discourse audible to only him left him utterly bewildered. His entourage unleashed a thunderstorm of laughter, the booming reverb reached even to the tower where Euphymia stood. King Drakvol’s shoulders shook in response, but the prince did not stir even a breath of movement.  And then–just like that–the king and his entourage left, taking with them everything that defined the very essence of the fae. Their magic, their energy, their happiness. Gone. Little did Euphymia know, that wasn’t all the daemons planned to seize. King Tarafin had forged a deal with High King Drakvol in order to cease his bloody acquisition of the fae. A deal that all but Euphymia was not permitted to know of. A secret that ignited pain in Cade’s chest that burned endlessly like the fae villages did just ten years prior. He looked away from her as the bitter thoughts echoed in his mind and heated guilt rose in the back of his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her, but soon enough she would know the truth. “I’ll escort you to the fields.” Cade’s voice was low. And because he pledged his loyalty to the Tarafin family, he would make certain that Euphymia Tarafin would be safe—for as long as he could help it, at least. “But then we must return back to the castle,” he swallowed back the acrid bile that seeped up from in the back of his throat. It was a response to the foreboding sense of dread that hung above him.  “Oh sweet, Cade, you really shouldn’t worry so much. It isn’t good for your health,” she sighed, but there was a sense of playfulness in her tone. She dashed past him and back into the forest, her long, blonde mane fluttering behind her in the wind. Cade exhaled softly before tailing after her. Yes, Cade knew the bitter truth of the happenings that day when Drakvol suddenly abandoned his merciless parade of wrath on their people. It wasn’t a sudden stroke of light benevolence on a palette painted with hues of violent red. It was the consequence of King Tarafin who had agreed that Euphymia would marry the daemon Prince Drakon—once she was of age, and he was crowned High King of Lucem. And Cade had learned earlier that morning that the High King Drakvol had been pronounced dead.