Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen (73 page)

Looking into the perfect little face, Athel could not believe how much she loved this baby. Her whole world changed in an instant. In a way, she had only just met this person, and yet she loved her completely, effortlessly, with every particle of her being. Athel’s heart felt like singing out for joy, so much so that she was having difficulty keeping her face calm and distinguished.

Then the cold reality came over Athel, and it nearly made her drop the baby. If Wysteria was to survive, it would need a Queen, and while Athel was still very young, she would not live forever. Someday, someone would have to replace her, and that person would need to be prepared to take on the mantle. The simple logic of it made her feel as if she were being strangled. She tried to breathe, but her body would not obey.

Her daughter would have to be groomed, educated, trained. Everything that had been inflicted on Athel, she would have to inflict upon her daughter, for the good of the forest, for the survival of their people. It was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

Her heart, which had been so full of joy, now felt like breaking. She realized that while she loved their perfect little daughter with all her heart, this tiny person would one day grow up to resent and hate and despise her as much as Athel had resented and hated and despised her own mother.

Athel drew the child in close to her, nuzzling it against her bosom.

I love you, but one day you will grow to hate me, and you will be right to do so. I am so sorry, Arolla. I am so sorry.

Alder finished cleaning the child and Athel swallowed her feelings as best she could, trying not to make a scene or let her conflict spread into the forest. Breaking decorum, she reached around Alder’s waist and drew him in close so the three of them could embrace as a family.

I just want a moment, while it is still pure. Before it is sullied by reality. Before necessity and duty make this an ugly thing. Please let me have that. Please, I beg you, Milia.

Mina and Captain Evere joined them, and they all embraced together. For the first time in her reign, Athel cried without tears. Those looking on saw only the Queen’s regal dignity.

“Um,” Alder began, obviously trying to point out the break in ceremony. Athel ignored the rebuke and hugged him and her daughter even tighter.

“Athi,” Adler wheezed again.

Athel slowly released him. “What is it?”

Alder pointed down.

Athel looked the child over, and her eyes grew wide.

It’s a boy?!

Epilogue

It’s a terrible thing to have a dream,
Dev’in thought to himself as he sloshed through the shallow pool of black shakes, his skin bubbling where it touched the unholy ichor. He held up his torch to a large crystal. Entombed within the glassy surface was a lizard-skinned Tirrakian, a look of terror on his scaly face.

“The island of Tirrak, they are the masters of light.” Dev'in said softly in a hoarse voice as he walked on.

It alters who you are, changes you into something you weren’t before,
he thought, holding up his torch to the next crystal. Inside, was a horrified woman in long robes, frozen in place.

“The island of Madaringa, masters of time bending, but even they cannot reverse it.”

Makes you do things you never thought you'd ever do, makes you say things you never thought you'd say,
he thought, moving onto the next crystal. A thick-skinned man with a shell for a back stared back from within.

“Chidd, masters of illusion.”

After a time you look in the mirror, and you don’t even recognize what you see anymore,
he thought, tapping his torch against the next crystal. The long spider-like limbs of the man trapped within did not move in the slightest.

“Kirdish, masters of fear.”

To have a dream, is to be alone,
he thought, running his fingers along the surface of the new crystal, which contained a terrified Treesinger within.

“Wysteria, masters of plant life.”

In the end you wish you never had the dream to begin with, so as to be spared your grief.

Dev’in raised his torch, illuminating the enormous ring of crystals that followed the edge of the pit.

“Seventy-eight in all, and when combined using the magic of the void, you restore the light of creation that was shattered so long ago,” he said to himself. He glanced over to an empty spot in the circle.

But I am not doing this for myself.

“It won’t be long now, my love,” he cackled as he moved over towards her. He splashed over to the center of the pit, where a stone chair sat in the tar, a woman resting idly in it. “You look so beautiful, my love,” he praised as he reached out his hand and ran his fingers through her hair. “We have all the sacrifices we need. You and I will be together forever.”

Blair stepped out from behind a crystal. He took a moment to scratch his sharp nose. “But Father, Wysteria lives, the Federal Navy is a shadow of its former self, and fully a third of the League has betrayed us to join the Wysterian Alliance.”

Dev'in nodded and stroked her hair again with the back of his hand. “Yes, it seems I have an opponent far more dangerous than I had anticipated. She and I played an enormous gamble this year, with the fate of the world in the balance. We wagered everything on two key moves. I wagered that using an iron fist to force the islands to pay the emergency taxes would cow them into submission, while she wagered that it would stoke the fires of revolution. I bet that the plague inflicted on our soldiers would inspire them to take out their anger on the people of Wysteria, while she bet that the additional suffering would break their morale and encourage them to switch sides.

“In both cases, I gambled big and lost. She gambled big and won.”

Blair smiled. “But luck is no longer a factor in this fight, is it?”

Dev'in shook his head slowly. “The rubric on the ocean waters is nearly complete. My Stonemasters will be able to control the waters of the sea as the water tribe was able to in ages past. All we need now are enough souls to power the ceremony. Then at last, we will take back the power of creation from the gods, and we will use it to make a new world. A world without hate, a world without conflict. A world of peace.” Dev’in reached out to the stone throne and stroked her hair again. “A world for us, my love.”

The door at the far end of the room flung open. Marc hopped in, his bright feathers ruffled, his beak grinding in frustration. “I just received word, our ziggurat at Iso is gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

Marc flicked his wings. “I mean gone, destroyed. The stockpiles, the crucibles, everything.”

“Who could have done this?” Dev'in whispered, his torch falling out of his hands.

“Who even knew it was there?” Blair added.

Dev'in clenched his fists, his long nails digging into the palms of his hands. Drops of black blood dripped into the tar below him, sizzling as they hit the surface.

“Decades of work...gone,” Marc said, devastated.

“We'd practically be starting from scratch,” Blair appraised, sticking his fingers into the shallow layer of tar.

Dev'in waved his hand and some of the black shakes was pulled up by unseen hands, forming itself into a prism stream. The device flickered to life, and an image appeared of a raven-haired woman reclining upon a throne, absentmindedly fingering the necklace that hung around her neck.

“I have a new assignment for you,” Dev'in roared, black spittle falling from his lips. “I want you to kill Athel Forsythia!”

Spirea’s eyes lit up, and a wicked smile crossed her lips.

To Be Continued in Isle of Wysteria: The Lost City...

About the Author

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I come from a family of ballet dancers. (I know, right?) My parents actually met dancing at Ballet West together. So, the first few years of my life were spent backstage at productions like CATS, Dreamgirls, and A Chorus Line, where I developed a lifelong aversion to stage makeup. My parents even appeared in a few movies and TV shows, like
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
, and the
Tracy Ullman Show
, but that is about as much namedropping as I can currently muster. I spent two years living in Argentina as a missionary, where I became addicted to mayonnaise, and developed a crippling fear of small dogs. In college I studied aviation, and was well on my way to becoming a commercial airline pilot when I suddenly developed a rare illness that left me with severe heart damage. Bedridden for about a year, I began writing, as it was one of the few things I could do. I spent the next decade writing books and taking care of my kids while my wife worked, waiting for that letter to come in the mail which never came. (Should have written about sparkly vampires instead!)

When my son Stephen passed away in July of 2012, I decided that I was going to dedicate my first book to him, and I wasn’t going to wait for anyone’s permission to be published anymore. I was going to do it myself.