Between the Shadows

PRELUDE Damae With a deep breath, I walk hand in hand with my sister down the grey, uneven stone path. Wearing black dresses and heels, hair done, makeup perfect, tiaras straight. Unshed tears fall from my eyes as I blink. I grip Nalmaire’s hand as she sobs. The funeral procession walks behind us, carrying my mother in her casket, and our father, Harlow, the King of Jalari, walking strong and proud in front of his kingdom as we head to bury my mother at the Grounds of Seer. Seer is the goddess of life and knowledge. She is known as the goddess who chooses each child for their parents, and if you are laid to rest in her grounds, she grants them eternal peace. As we come to the entrance of the mausoleum for the Royals of Jalari, Nalmaire stops, as if she is frozen in time. “Nal, we need to continue,” I whisper. I grip her hand tighter and pull her forward. My effort is null and void as she stays grounded. ”I can’t. I can’t bury her. She’s our mom, Damae. She was supposed to be here for all the important parts. My coronation, my wedding, everything. This isn’t fair.” Nal sobs harder, and I feel her grief through every bone in my body. ”I know, I know she was supposed to, but she isn’t. She is-“ “Princesses do not show weakness, they stand tall and move through war or peace all the same. Heads high. Do. Not. Embarrass me.” Our father’s voice is rough and hushed as he bends down into our faces. He looks us in the eyes, and I can see pain and anguish, though he recovers quickly, putting on the mask of the strong ruler he has always been. Nal and I both nod, correcting our posture, and continue into the mausoleum. The funeral was all a blur of tears, our land's hymns, and prayers to Seer. My mother was the most beautiful woman, her soul and body. She was the best of all of us. She centered father, she mentored Nal, and she supported me in all the many ventures I wanted to pursue. She was loved by all of our kingdom, and it shows. There are hundreds of people who showed up today to show their respects. But most of all, she was a warrior. She commanded our forces and trained them all while raising us children. Today, as I walk away from her for the last time. I vow to be as strong as she was. 1 Damae ”That’s not quick enough! Again.” Father’s ruthless voice booms from the bottom of the training grounds. I roll my eyes, hands on my knees, as I try to catch my breath. I have ran through this course thirteen times today, and every time it isn’t fast enough for him. I turn around and head back down to the ground. I jump two feet down to the platform, then swing down the thick rope that leads straight to where my father awaits with his arms behind his back. ”I am taking a break. I need to see how Nal is doing.” I wipe my arm over my sweaty forehead and grab my water. Before it reaches my parched lips, it is swatted from my hands. I look down as my water empties into the sand. “Nal is fine. You need to not worry about her when you can’t even make it up to the top in a timely manner. AGAIN!” His blue eyes stare right at mine. My eyes are his, except, mine are filled with determination and his are filled with loss, emptiness, and hatred. My father has so much hate for everyone now, especially Nalmaire. She is the spitting image of our mother, long dark auburn hair, subtle freckles across her nose, and her eyes as green as an emerald. Nal is beautiful in her own right, but my father has not truly looked at her since my mother died. My mother’s death was sudden, she was to give birth to a little boy, but everything that night went wrong. The baby wouldn’t come out and the doctors did everything they could, but both my mother and brother died. Everything my father truly loved that day died, a true male heir to his throne, and the love of his life. My parents aren’t old, in fact, they were the youngest king and queen the kingdom of Jalari has ever seen. At the age of 19, my father took over as king, then was engaged and married my mother only a few weeks after that. She was 18 when she became queen and 19 when she had Nalmaire. Nal is now 19, and I, well, I am turning 18 next week. And that is why my father is training me so hard. Every 100 years, one of the kingdom's heirs who are of age will be put into the Trials of Helpia, and it falls only 3 days after my birthday this year. There are four kingdoms in the Land of Gallia. To the east is Hurstith, the kingdom of flowers, and Tamorra, Goddess of Earth and Love, and their kingdom holds the magic of growth. Their borders are covered in dense forest, but past that, the land is covered in grassy hills and flowers of every kind. Their land is beautiful. If you need flowers for any event, you trade through Hurstith. To the north, the Kingdom of Deddai, closed off to almost everyone by the Dendris River. They shut down their borders to all, unless you have business there, they won’t let you in. They have unmatched power and soldiers within their borders. They honor the fearsome God of Death and Power, Morbrus. The people of Deddai are feared, they are the ones who won the blessings of Goddess Helpia 100 years ago and 100 years before that. The Kingdom of Bendirae is the poorest of the four kingdoms that lie in the west ,trapped by mountain ranges that seem to touch the sky. Thieves and cast outs from every other kingdom reside there. The magic in Benadirae is limited by their goddess Eara, Goddess of Wealth and War. She is known to be ruthless to her followers and grant them nothing. For being the goddess of wealth, she is greedy. To have magic in Benadirae is to have the power and control. Then there is my kingdom, the Kingdom of Jalari. Where we worship Goddess Seer. Jalari is dry, the rain never falls from the sky, and our borders are surrounded by desert and sand. The palace, Grounds of Seer, and surrounding cities towards the southernmost point by the sea is where the only grass grows. We are the kingdom of scribes and knowledge, and a place where magic is snuffed out. We hold the records of all the land. Ancient materials and artifacts that are locked away for the eyes of only the elders and the chosen can see. In the center of Gallia there is a large city surrounded by tall stone walls and gates, where the Temple of Helpia, the goddess of Blessings and Peace resides. This is where the trials are held, where everyone can come to a land with no king. Helpia is the only one who sets the rules and boundaries. All who come to Central Gallia must come with no ill intent to harm or steal (the trial contestants being the only exception) or you won't get through the magic border that protects it. I am the chosen one for this year’s Helpia trials. My sister would never survive. Nalmaire is kind, sweet and fragile. She belongs amongst the scribes and leaders here. I have trained to fight and to survive the trials everyday since my mother died last year. My goal is to be just a fraction of strong as she was. To win the trials would mean everything to her, my kingdom, and hopefully would bring back a glimpse of the kind king I used to know. “Yes, sir. Again.” Closing my eyes, I steadied my breath, feeling the sun on my face and the way the sand moves underneath my weight. Opening my eyes with more focus and determination, I take off. I sprint to the uneven wooden posts that stick out of the ground, jumping from one foot to another focusing on my breathing and steps. “FASTER!” My father yelled, keeping my focus. I finish the last of the posts and run along the thin wooden beam, balancing each stride on my toes as I run. From the end of the beam, I leapt onto a wall with broken slats for hand placements. My hands are full of calluses, so I barely feel the splinters pierce my skin as I climb the 20ft wall. My arms started to shake at the top of the wall, I swung a leg over and shook my arms out. “NO BREAKS!” I hear from below me. I swiftly swing my other leg over and slide down the other side of the wall which is angled towards the ground. Halfway through the slide, I swiftly jump to the thick rope to start my climb to the platform where I need to pick up a sword and go through the fighting patterns my father taught me. My legs are sore and my arms are about to give out. I push through the pain, breathing heavily, one hand over the other. I look up, it’s right there, the platform is right there, reaching for the lip to pull myself up, I slip. Slowing my fall, I grip the rope as tightly as I could, slowing my momentum, my hands burning from the rope. I scream out. Squeezing harder, forcing my body to a stop a foot from the sand. Holding the tears in, I slowly drop to my knees and clutch my hands to my chest. ”That was pathetic. You are such a disappointment.” My father boots in my blurry vision as I stare into the sand. “Look at me Damae.” I slowly lift my head as his hand connects with my cheek. My head flings sideways, my blonde hair covers my face and clings to my sweaty forehead. ”You have one week before you leave for the trials, and you must win. The kingdom needs this.” Slowly standing up from the ground, keeping my hands by my side. I face the king, my chest heaving as I look him in the eyes. ”I am ready Father, I have been through this course, completed it flawlessly, over and over. Mastered the daggers and sword by your instruction.” I paused my words as I looked at him, his jaw tight, his blonde hair perfectly combed under his crown, “I will win.” I see nothing in his eye,s and we stare at each other. Hoping he would say something, anything to remind me that he is still my father and not what he has come to be. Instead he turns from me and walks away. ”You better.” He said as he disappears down the hall away from the training grounds. I look down at my hands, my fingers raw and red, my palms bloody from the rope burns. I should really start wearing gloves. My arms fall to my sides, I don’t think I can do this. I am not good enough yet, but the trials are coming up fast. Staring up at the open cloudless sky, my breath hitches as a tear rolls down my cheek. I am going to die during these trials, I wish to feel the rain on my skin, but all I've ever known is the burn of the sun. I walk down the halls of the castle, soaking in every picture, every brick, and every single crack in the floor. I will win, but I will never come back here. I forced myself to stay for my sister. Nalmaire needed me to protect her from our outraged King. To take the brunt of his anger and hurt. I have done that, but when I win ,he will be satisfied with the blessing of the Goddess Helpia. I won’t need to be here anymore. Our father will be happy, won’t be fighting for anything the rest of his life. He would leave her alone. ”Dae, there you are!” My hand froze over my bedroom doorknob. I didn’t even know I made it this far into the castle with all my daydreaming. I have to stop that, I have no time to be distracted. I look over my shoulder to see Nal walking down the hall, looking as regal as she ever has. Her navy blue gown reaches all the way to the deep red carpets that line the castle floors. Her hair is braided into a crown atop her head, her silver tiara laced with sapphires and a large emerald that matches her eyes right in the center. “You are filthy! Go bathe. The ball tonight is very important to me. Suitors are coming from each kingdom to ask for my hand in marriage.” She held her chin high as she looks down her nose at me, even though we are the same height when she is in heels. ”Yes, Princess Nalmaire. I know. I am going to bathe right now. I will look presentable for tonight. I promise.” I smirk at her, knowing she is doing her best to be the heir to the throne. “It is just us here, Nallie. You can relax. Everything will go great tonight.” I lift my hand to put on her ar,m but I stop before my fingers make contact. I look at my hands, they are broken, not meant to dirty her perfectly tan skin. I put my hand back on my door and open it. “I promise.” I look at her one last time. I rush into my room and close the door behind me. I lean back on my door. My hair is still falling out of my braid, and my black shirt is sticking to my sweat-soaked skin. I can not wait to be free of this stuffy palace. My eyes fall onto a rack of dresses lined up for me to pick out for my sister’s ball tonight. I roll my eyes and scoff at them. This is going to be a nightmare tonight. I head into the wash room and my bath is already made up. The water is steaming with bubbles, almost falling over the top rim ,and fresh towels with rose petals are set right next to the tub. I almost burst out into a full laugh. I should be grateful for this life, all the jewels, dresses, and anything I could ever ask for. It just isn't for me. I feel more like myself when I have blades in my hand, or running the damn course that father makes me run over and over. I find peace there. Peeling off my clothes, I lay them in a pile on the floor. I undo my loose braid; most of my hair has fallen out of it anyway. I feel the grit of the sand as I run my hands through my hair that reaches my mid-back. I should cut it before the trials; it could be used against me. Sinking into the bath, the warm water soothes my aching muscles, and I start to relax. I breathe in the lavender scent and prepare myself for the night of schmoozing and dancing ahead of me.