I am a slave at the castle. All my ancestors have been. For some it’s a matter of pride but to me, who knows my ancestry as well as The King’s, it’s unbearable. My only hope lies in the poison bottle and the secret diary I have.
I am afraid. It’s not unusual for the royals to force us to marry them or worse. I can’t do that. I never will. I’ve always tried to be ignored. I’ve kept my golden hair wrapped in some rags and my skin covered in soot. But still if I sense danger, I’m going to kill myself.
I am delusional, maybe. But I write a diary. I don’t know why but it keeps me sane. Sometimes I suspect I have hope left that someone else will read it but what then? Nothing’s going to happen. Maybe it’s reading my ancestors diary that compelled me to write. Or maybe it’s the fact that I am rebelling. Reading and writing are illegal for slaves.
I am dead. I am dead, I say to myself when I enter the servant quarters to see a noble man waiting there with two guards. He asks for me, Elysia.
“Yes,” I say, my mouth going dry.
“Come with us now.” he commands me. “His majesty summoned you.”
“Why?” I blurt out. He looks at me mockingly, up and down. At my blue servant dress and my soot covered face. He takes a step towards me and I automatically take four steps backwards, running into my room and slamming the door.
I am dead. I know it as certainty as I frantically throw aside my bed. My heart thinks it can stop me if it hammers hard enough. I remove the plank from the wooden floor. I scream. The guards are trying to break in. My hiding place is empty. No diary. No poison. The guards kick harder and harder. The lock begins to crack.
I am dead. I pull out the knife from my pocket and place it to my wrist. They’re going to break in the next minute. I close my eyes, not even wanting to take a last look at this monstrous world. My sweaty hands grip the knife and I run it across my wrist. The pain is sweet. The blood the spurts out and stains everything is beautiful.
I am dreaming, I think looking at the despicable face of The King himself. Then memory hits me. I should be dead. I jump up. How am I alive after all the blood I lost? Now what am I going to do? I look around. It’s the court, the despicable carved arches and the golden throne. The King is dripping in jewels as he sits there, haughty and shameless. He’s frowning at me. For a moment I just stand there looking into his stone eyes.
“Elysia,” he says “daughter of -"
“Alicia,” I say. I don’t want him to profane her name.
“Alicia.” he says. “I had suspicions. Only her daughter could do such a thing.”
Suddenly, I am furious. I have no fear of death and no anxiety of future. And if my worst fear is already coming true then what is there to avoid?
“Do what?” I say loudly. “Read the accounts of your dirty ancestors? “
“Have the audacity to speak like that despite your humiliating position and your own ancestor’s dirty past.” he says.
My maniacal laugh echoes in the court. “My ancestor’s dirty past?” I say. “Why is it so dirty? Did they flow a river of blood in Africa? Did they gift slave women to other kings? Or,” I look at his eyes with pure hatred. Am I mistaken or is there a little bit of fear in his eyes? “Did they, after defeating an empire, kidnapped the whole court and took them to a graveyard to perform some dark magic on them?” That was what he did to my ancestors. I would’ve been a princess if it wasn’t for him.
He walks down to where I am standing and slaps me hard across my face. I laugh. “What else are you gonna do? Kill me?”
He grabs my hair and pulls my head closer to his face, that smooth devilish face. I spit on him. He pushes me on the ground. “You know I can’t kill you but that doesn’t mean I can’t stop you!” he screams. I am perplexed at his words. Why can’t he kill me? And stop me? From what?
“I have all the power.” he says “And I will make sure this graveyard blood dies with you!”
I am relieved. Happy, almost, as the guards take me to the dungeons, deep underground. They’re gonna lock me up until I die. No one’s gonna marry me. But I’m curious for the reason. The King spoke as if I was conspiring against him. What is it with my blood that he’s afraid of?
I am a prisoner now. The throw me into the large stone-walled room and shackle my hands and feet with chains. I lie down on the hard cold floor. I love cold. My mind wanders to impossible things as always. It got addicted to stimulation when I started sneaking into the library to read. What if some of my ancestor’s army is still left? And they are searching for the heiress? That’s why the King’s scared. I sit up. If that’s true then how sweet it will be to slit his throat. I lie down again and stretch. My hand catches something like a fabric. I lazily bring it to my eyes to see what it is.
I am crying. My whole body trembles. I know his blue fabric. It belonged to my mother. There’s also a paper with it. For some time I can’t bring myself to even unfold it. I keep crying silently, trying not to imagine what they did to her when she was alive. But the letter urges to be read. I unfold the page with shaking fingers and read:
Dear heiress to the mystic powers,
Dear Queen of the horsemen of the four elements,
Where I could not do it I’ve placed my hopes on you,
Where I weakened under the whips of the King, I know you will be strong,
You will be the successor to your ancestors’ throne,
That night in graveyard bestowed some power to our blood,
All men were slaughtered. One woman remained,
They couldn’t imagine her powerful enough to carry the blood but she did,
She was mad for it, for putting all her hopes in a diary,
But it survived and the blood survived,
Now you are aware of everything,
You can bring him down.
Just remember, pain is your friend.
Love, Your Mother.”
I am transforming into a dragon. I’ve just finished the letter when I hear them unbolting the door. I quickly hide it in my pocket. My head throbs. My muscles tighten with and electric madness. Before I could even think of the letter the guards walk in with some food.
“Oh look at this bastard,” I say.
He walks towards me, scowling. “What did you say?”
“I said, look at this deaf bastard,” I say and go off laughing.
He grabs me by my hair. “You wanna say that again?”
“D’you know how corrupt your father was?”
He punches me in the nose. The other guard joins him. The idiots leave the doors unblocked.
“He used to bribe us,” I say, “we all knew.”
He throws me on the ground and both of them start kicking and beating me.
“What did you say? How dare you!” the first one kept saying.
“Whoa whoa,” I chuckle when they stop, wiping the blood on my sleeves. ”The King said you couldn’t beat me.”
I am in pain. The two idiots tied my hands to the opposite walls and are beating me with a whip. My back burns. But I laugh. I laugh like mad. And I say more and more violent things about them. They are idiots.
I am mocking them. Enjoying it even.
I see one guard take the burning torch from the wall and heat his knife in it. Excellent. It turns red hot. He brings it to me. I laugh and laugh. The moment it touches my skin I feel the power.
I am dying. Or I am being born. Everything is pain and fire. I can’t see the room I can’t see anything. It’s black. Then I see horsemen surround me. They’re made of fire. Others start joining them. Millions of horsemen, of water, and air and Earth. They are all deadly. One by one they bow to me.
I am laughing. I see the King tomorrow, bewildered at not being able to find me. He runs around the magnificent castle with his puppet men, frantically ordering them. Then he reaches the castles boundary. He finds a piece of blue torn cloth stuck in the barbed wire. He’ll know what happened.
I am laughing. The King looks up at the sky. He sees the sun hide, the clouds darkening. It’s the natural wind and rain that assaults him at first. But he turns white, he shakes from head to toe. His men run around taking precautions but he knows it’s no use. The storm comes.
I am powerful, with my horsemen flooding them, burning their magnificent castles, burying them alive.
I am unstoppable.