Asteria

1

The silver tiles refracted bright colors of light as they bounced across the walls in tune with the clamor of a metallic soundtrack. The place reeked of beer, smoke, and sweat, a stench she had grown familiar with.

"Hush, now darling. It happens. Humans die."

Asteria heard as she tried to fight off the nausea forming at the back of her throat. The voice was more of an echo in her mind, like a voice coming from a deep well.

"Shut up."

"If it's not today, it could be any other day."

The bartender produced a glass of blue liquid, eyeing her with worry. She held the glass tight in between her palms.

"You have to think clearly," the voice said.

She fought to keep still, her eyes burning with fury. Ignoring the voice, she took a swig and went straight to the dance floor.

The place was a strange sight to the human eye. The bartender was an orange creature with two huge horns growing on its head, its face a distortion of a deer's. Seven hands grew on its body, three on each side and one at the center. Where its feet could have been, two black hooves supported its weight. The ladies on the tables looked ethereal, their white hair glowing like the moonlight, their twisted bodies hidden beneath a white sundress. Their laughter sounded like a screaming wind as they danced. At each corner, hulking tree trunks marched, making sure that the place was in order. It was a place for the Lost.

"Let's go home, Asteria." The voice echoed against the noise of the bar, sounding more commanding than worried.

"Leave me alone," she said, faintly amused with the irony. She could never be alone.

"You can't do this to yourself. To us."

Asteria closed her eyes, struggling to detach from the voice inside her head. She tried to listen to the music, to the muffled voices around her, trying to find peace amidst the pandemonium. The voice remained silent.

She felt her knees tremble, her hands feeling numb. The concoction was taking effect. She walked numbly to the side, feeling a burning sensation at the back of her throat. She closed her eyes. It's okay, she told herself, it's gonna be alright.

She held her head tight, pushing down the scream escaping from her mouth. She bit her lip as she felt the back of her eye raw and drying, her head throbbing as if it were hammered a hundred times over. All at once, she felt as if her body was being ripped apart, and then silence. She had changed.

The nymph eyed her hands with worry, her long talons looking foreign to her. It had been years, she thought. "Are you alright, Asteria?" she whispered. She felt a weak response in her heart.

The nymph, who, in many centuries had been called Amadrya, patted her chest, trying to console her, but Asteria remained quiet and alarmingly still.

Asteria was a Carrier, a human host for ancient spirits to thrive in. She was among the chosen, the lone survivor of The Ritual. The Carriers are allowed to live the first eighteen years of their lives without the knowledge of the spiritual world, the spirit slowly inhabiting their bodies when they have come of age. But Asteria was different.

Being a daughter of a previous carrier, Asteria could see the spiritual world as long as she could remember. Amadrya was the oldest living nymph and she had chosen the young girl as her carrier with the confidence that she would be the last carrier to host the spirit.

Amadrya walked away from the mortal conundrum and went deep into the forest, her footsteps soundless against the crickets and the owls whispering through the night. She could feel her frail body pleading for an eternal rest, but she kept going.

The river was silent. She looked over and stared at her reflection. Her eyes were a pool of blackness, the sclera echoing the color of the night sky. Her hair were vines twisted into soft braids, her hands a pair of elongated talons. Asteria? She whispered.

There was no response.

Amadrya had lived since the beginning of time. She had seen how the world changed, how humans had forgotten them and made their existence a foolish myth. They were destroying their home—the forests, and the spirits were angry, but humans are becoming stronger. They couldn't understand that to destroy the spiritual realm is to kill their own kind.

It had been many centuries since Amadrya had been fulfilling her duty as a guardian and she was becoming weaker. She looked up, weakly smiling, for she shall soon be with the hands of her creator. After a few thousand years, she thought. I can finally rest.

Amadrya closed her eyes, her breathing deep and weary. She let the natural energy flow into her being. The wind surged, wildly swaying the trees, the river rising as if to dance with the wind. She focused the energy to her mind, her palms drawn closely to each other as a ball of energy forms in between her palms. It was bright and strong, like a trapped lightning.

She thrusted the energy into her chest and thunder roared.

--

Asteria awoke in confusion, her arms sore and numb. She was deep into the forest, the birds chirping the songs of the early morning, the river flowing quietly in front of her. For a moment, her mind was empty. And then all the memories came rushing back, memories of her sister's death, of the ritual, and memories so old she knew it could not have been hers. Her head felt heavy. The memories kept coming in, flashes of wars and ancient ceremonies, deaths of thousands of human beings, creatures she swore she had never seen before, and darkness. She felt an entirety of darkness and fear, a sense of responsibility and regal instinct. Amadrya? She called. There was no response.

No, she thought, panic and confusion making her dizzy and weak. "Amadrya?"

She looked around, trying to understand what was happening, but it didn't make any sense. Her head felt heavy, and yet she felt hollow inside, as if a part of her was stripped away.

The nymph was gone, she knew. But she had left her power, her memories, to fuel her rage against their enemies. She wants her to avenge them.

All her life, Amadrya was with her, guiding and consoling her. She thought she would never be alone. She was wrong. Asteria buried her face into her hands, frustrated more than sad. She was angry. Amadrya shouldn’t have left like that.

She wandered deeper into the forest, struggling to push away the thoughts of morbid deaths that the nymph bore in her lifetime. Her feet seemed to know where to go, for after a while, she was standing at the place where Amadrya would want her to be.

The Bethel.

For the untrained eye, the place was a bare slab of land in the middle of the forest. But for Asteria, the bethel wavered right before her eyes, sparkling against the fierce rays of sunlight. Home, she could imagine Amadrya saying. Asteria reached the huge tree, her fingers instinctively tracing a pattern from the nymph's memory.

There was a blinding light. Asteria covered her eyes as she walked in. She felt a warm sense of familiarity. She didn’t expect anything, but the bethel didn’t really surprise her.

"At long last," the enchantress said, pulling Asteria into an embrace. She looked like a forest goddess, her hair echoing the color of the leaves, her eyes the color of the sky. She almost felt ashamed wearing jeans and a shirt.

"I'm Asteria, your, highness," She said, pulling away, unsure if she should extend her hands or curtsy in front of the royalty. The enchantress smiled.

"We had been waiting for you, Asteria. Follow me."

Asteria walked alongside the enchantress, gazing at the strange creatures who covertly glanced at them. There were elves—trolls, her mind intervened. The trolls were just like she had ever imagined. They were small and thick, their bodies a ball of twisted twigs and vines wildly stretching and shrinking at the same time. The nymphs looked like Amadrya but were much younger and fiercer. A tiny, winged creature darted right before her eyes, mumbling a silent apology before moving on.

"I am the Enchantress, the healer and the protector of the bethel. One of the three royalties that govern the spiritual realm," the Enchantress paused, gazing at the tower that reached the skyline.

The tower glowed in poison green, as if it were electrified by lightning.

"This is your home, Asteria."

Asteria faced the enchantress.

"Amadrya wanted me to be here," she said. The enchantress smiled.

"Amadrya had been the most powerful nymph. She was the guardian of the emblem, the protector of the heart of the bethel. For so long, she had been trying to find a descendant for she was cursed to never bear a child. But no one seemed worthy of the great power and responsibility she once vowed upon. Until she found you. You are Amadrya's descendant, Asteria. The Guardian of the Emblem."

“I know,” she said coldly.

"Follow me," the enchantress said.

The tower welcomed them into a dreamlike tableau. It looked like a cathedral, the sculptures following the figures of mermaids, nymphs, giants, and warriors. The floor was copper embellished with intricate patterns of gold and silver. Vines crept on the walls and flourished on the ceiling, spewing out flowers that glowed to light the tower. The corridors forked into narrow pathways snaking like tunnels, deliberately hiding what lies ahead. The enchantress escorted her to the center corridor.

They walked in silence. The corridor walls were lined with torches, the flames glowing in poison green. Asteria felt nothing at first, but the sense of familiarity relaxed her nerves. The pathway unfolded into a wide library. Tall shelves lined the place, the air a fragrance of old paper and soil. At the far end of the hall was a platform birthing a throne made of twisted branches and emeralds.

The woman sitting on the throne looked like mother nature herself. Her eyes were green and blue, her pitch-black hair elegantly tucked behind her head, crowned with silver and jade. But where a majestic gown should have been, she wore a fighting gear with elaborate alchemic patterns and gemstones and a pair of gladiator sandals hugging her ankles. Her scepter was a snake with three heads, the biggest one frightening with glowing red eyes. She looked regal yet bold. Graceful yet strong.

"Your highness," the enchantress bowed as they reached her. Asteria followed. "I present to you, Amadrya's descendant, the chosen one, the new Guardian of the Emblem, Asteria."

"Your highness," Asteria bowed once again.

The royalty stood. "At long last. I am the Empress of the bethel. My duty is to lead my empire, to bear their woes and victories, to uphold the virtues our ancestors had bequeathed for this empire to thrive. I welcome you as the descendant of Amadrya, the Guardian of the Emblem, and I shall be glad to be of service for you."

Great, she thought. 

"Show her to the Seeress," she said.

"Yes, your highness."

The enchantress ushered her to another room filled with scrolls and tomes situated on wooden shelves that almost reached the ceiling. The Seeress was writing profusely on a table stuffed with quills and parchment paper. She looked agelessly beautiful. Her face was serene, yet her eyes screamed of wisdom and mystery. Her hair was white as her skin, white as the color of her eyes. She wore a robe the color of blood, her ringed fingers permanently inked with ages of writing.

"Seeress," the enchantress called. The seeress looked up, smiling. She stood.

"The empire is yours to rule, Asteria, and I shall be honored to be of service." The seeress bowed.

Asteria didn’t show her bewilderment. She remained stoic. "What do you mean?"

"You will understand in time, my dear. I am the Seeress, the Guide of Wisdom. In my hands are the accounts of histories and prophecies, a duty I had sworn to keep," she said.

"I have no power to do that."

"Your power shall be awakened in time, dear, and the empress, the enchantress, and I shall be of help," she smiled, walking towards an aisle in between the shelves. The two followed. The seeress produced a leather-bound book in her hands, stenciled with gold letters that said, "si vis pacem, para bellum".

"Si vis pacem, para bellum," the enchantress said, "'If you want peace, prepare for war.' It is the written account of our virtues and principles. Of our duties on behalf of our ancestors."

The seeress handed the book to Asteria. She felt the cover to her hands, familiar and foreign to her touch.

"Thank you," she said.

That night, Asteria clutched the book close to her chest, silently sobbing in memory of what had happened. She finally let out the emotion she had been fighting to hide. Her sister was human. She wasn't cursed as she was, and yet, Amara was the one killed mercilessly by the gray wolf. She had been trying to find Asteria that night. But the gray wolf found her instead.

Asteria reached over her pocket and produced an old paper. She unfolded it and reread the cursive handwriting as if she were reading it for the first time.

Asteria,

Wherever you are, I hope you find yourself. I didn't know why you left, or why you didn't tell me anything. I have found your diaries and I am so sorry that I decided to read it without your permission. I know that you didn't want me to find you, but I will. We will figure things out together—Amara.

The letter was given to her by the orange creature at the bar, saying that Amara went there the night before she died. Amara couldn't see the spiritual realm. She couldn't see what Asteria did, but she had accompanied her everywhere she went when they were young. She was her everything. For the first time since she died, Asteria wept.

She loathed the spiritual realm for letting their enemies kill her sister and letting her live alone in this cursed world. She didn't want to be a part of the war among the spiritual realm, but she knew, deep in her heart, that it's a duty that will let her avenge Amara's death.

She stared at the dimly lit room, much too wide for a sole occupant. She got up and paced towards the bookstand, lit a candle, and started reading the book given to her by the seeress.

"Where are you, Asteria? Help me, please," Amara whispered, crying. The gray wolf trailed her from behind, patiently waiting. Her knees trembled and she suddenly fell on the ground, terrified of what would happen next.

The gray wolf growled, its fangs sharp and reeked of poison, sending shivers down to her spine. She felt its presence behind her ears, the liquid from its fangs burning her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut, her lips pursed, her whole body still in anticipation.

The gray wolf opened his mouth wide, threatening to rip her body apart. "Asteria,"

Asteria panted as she woke. She looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened. The memories of the day before came rushing back but it did little to calm her down. She was still at the bookstand. Craning her neck, she walked towards the window. The sun was starting to rise. And so will she.