“Come Mythiara, daughter, it is almost time!” Malanthea stood beside the rejuvenated oracle on the dais of the High Prayer Hall. This was the place she decided to wed her daughter, a marriage between her star-child and the gift boy Nyxa had granted her. “I will not ask again my child, come forward!”
At the entrance to the hall, Mythiara shuffled in, a sheepish look on her face. She looked more like her sire than any of her siblings, which was to say she stood out the most within the Helana family. She was 5’7, compact in frame and athletic in build. She had wavy hair as opposed to the rest of the family’s straight, and her eyes were red violet like her father instead of amethyst like her mother. Her nose was tall and her brows slim on her narrow forehead, the most noticeable difference between her and the rest of her family who had broader facial features. Currently her pretty face was curled into a frown, her hands resting at the front of her hips clasped together. She was not happy about the current turn of events but had sense enough to understand there was no way out. She always knew that the privileges she enjoyed over her siblings came at a price: A marriage between her and another child of prophecy to secure the Halana’s dominance and strong blood to strengthen their lineage.
“I really hope he’s handsome,” muttered Mythiara under her breath. It was a strange thing for a woman not to choose her consort in Nxyea , even stranger that she actually had to marry him as a husband. But Mythiara was a “special” girl with a “special” destiny.
“I doubt the goddess would send forth an ugly man,” called her mother from the dais. Mythiara’s cheeks grew hot, she hadn’t meant for anyone to hear that. “Now come closer girl, you will stand to the right of me, on the other side of the Oracle.”
Mythiara nodded her head and walked between the rows of audience benches that filled the hall and climbed the stone steps of the center altar to the top of the dais. She took her mother’s side and looked up at her, feeling the height difference between herself and the two tall, majestic women who were standing beside her. Their beauty had persevered throughout centuries, fueled by their goddess’s favor.
The three of them stood before a grey marble statue of Nyxa holding the moon above her head, gazing upon its splendor. A symbol of her control of the night, and a reminder it was she who covered the Land of Night in the miasma that kept the land in a perpetual twilight state. Here there was only the dead of night and the moment before it was reached, the sky stayed either a mellow blue or a star filled black.
“You look worried girl; you must steel yourself! Nyxa has blessed you with a wonderful opportunity! A gracious gift to commemorate your mother’s sacrifice!” It was the oracle who spoke, her voice as rich and elegant as her mother’s, with even more time and wisdom behind it.
She spoke of Mythiara’s father, who was sacrificed on her birthday in a strange turn of events her mother never wanted to elaborate on. The official story was that she did it strictly to secure the family’ favor with Nxyea, but her mother’s unwillingness to talk about her father, or rather degrade his legacy like she did with her other consorts, was strange. Only Mythiara was her father’s daughter, everyone else belonged to Malanthea.
“Worry not High Priestess, I am prepared to take on this responsibility,” lied Mythiara. She was more anxious than she had ever been in her life, but she would acquiesce to her family’s wishes all the same. The alternative was much, much worse.
Malanthea turned to Mythiara and bent down so that their faces were inches from each other, her expression soft but serious. “My daughter, I have always felt that my fate has been indelibly linked with yours, that you would be the one to succeed me when I go.” Malanthea paused to make sure her daughter truly grasped her words.
Mythiara did, allowing the somber realization to show on her face. He mother nodded, satisfied.
“Now I feel that you will begin to peel away from that fate. Our fate. This is your first step on that journey, and you must succeed. From today onward I will begin to mold you into the princess you were meant to be, and eventually you will take my place as matriarch.” Malanthea pulled her daughter close and kissed her forehead. “This will be the end of your sheltered life, daughter. From today onward you will have to defend yourself from your siblings and make your own way to the top of the family. Are you ready for that, Mythiara?”
Mythiara nodded her head, expression apprehensive and said: “Yes mother, I am ready.” She focused her mind and brought her emotions to heel, even if she was spoiled, she was a princess and a Helana. Owning a man and dealing with her siblings would be a simple task, it was only a matter of time before she became the house’s matriarch. And with her long lifespan, time was something she would have in spades.
Just then footsteps started to beat down the hallways leading into the High Prayer Hall. The clip clopping of sandals, the scuffling of boots and shoes, as well as the sound of stumbling footfalls. She heard some muttering and a grunt, and the stumbling ceased. A few moments later her oldest sisters marched into the room, triumphant smiles on their faces. They were wearing their priestess habits, white dresses and black sashes that were belted at the hips, silver chain jewelry in hair tied up into a bun. They looked radiant, even the glum Metanira seemed happy as she strolled down the middle of the High Prayer Hall. The two women bowed to their mother , then shuffling in between two priestesses in ceremonial armor came the prize: A blue-black curly headed boy with a scowl on his face.
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Thank the goddess, he’s passable, thought Mythiara as she examined the boy being dragged before her. He wasn’t conventionally attractive by Nxyean standards, but he had a nice athletic frame, he was tall, and his face although human looking wasn’t all that unpleasant to gaze at, even under his scowl. He was dressed like most Nxyean’s captured from outside of the Night Lands, slippers that left only the face of his feet seen, leg wraps that travelled up his ankles, cuffed pants, and a royal blue button up jacket with a white button up shirt underneath.
The guards released Laranthel, and he patted his arms reflexively. After catching his bearings, he began to scan the room. His eyes fell upon Mythiara for a moment before he cast his gaze downwards. Behind him various members of the Helana family filtered into the High Prayer Hall, seating themselves in the rows of benches in front of the altar Mythiara, the Oracle, and Malanthea stood upon. Soon, all the benches in the High Prayer Hall were filled and the only ones left standing were the three women on the dais as well as the two sisters and their prize, Laranthel. A few moments after the last guest took their seats, Malanthea stuck out her hand and beckoned for Laranthel to come forward. He did, his back hunched over and his eyes scanning the room nervously. He stepped passed the two sisters who had abducted him then stopped at the foot of the altar, his eyes looking up at the white robed woman that stood over him.
She pointed her finger downwards and said, “Kneel,” in a commanding tone. Laranthel bowed his head and obeyed, getting down on one knee, his gaze turned down to the floor. There was a snicker from the crowd.
“SILENCE!” Howled the oracle with a voice that carried a supernatural power behind it. With a boom, the room once again fell silent, Laranthel began to shake, betraying his fear.
“Come Mythiara, stand before me, before this boy,” ordered Malanthea motioning for her daughter to stand where she stood when she commanded Laranthel to kneel. She moved from her spot to the front of the boy, looking down upon her future husband.
“You and this girl, Princess Mythiara will be taking vows boy. But first we must take measure of you,” said the Oracle from her place beside Malanthea. “We must make sure you are worthy and understand what will be expected of you. What will be demanded of you.” She stretched her arms into the air, mimicking the pose of the statue behind her and quietly chanted a few words. Suddenly, a stream of black mana began to swirl in the space between her arms until it formed into a glassy black ball. She stepped forward, moving to take a place beside Mythiara standing over Laranthel. She knelt down and held the ball in front of Laranthel’s head. “Gaze into the ball,” she ordered.
He nodded and looked into the crystalline orb, suddenly becoming lost in a cloud of darkness, feeling his mind rush from his body into the ball. His eyes rolled into his head, and he nearly fell forward onto his face. Suddenly he was back in his body, his nose to the floor as he held himself up by his knees and palms. The Oracle stood up, holding the crystal ball to her eyes as she peered through the images of Laranthel’s memories, as well as the memories of some of his ancestors.
“Yesss,” hissed the Oracle. “This one has potent blood indeed!” She moved over to Malanthea and whispered into her ear. The matriarch nodded and smiled down at Laranthel.
“How fortunate for you, Laranthel! It seems by your mother’s blood you belong in a place like this!” Malanthea’s smile grew ear to ear, emboldened by the information the Oracle had gleaned from her crystal ball. This boy had to be a gift from the goddess, he was born from a Nxyean line of nobility! He possessed the blood of a sorceress! “Listen and listen well child. I will speak, and the Oracle will speak. You will listen when I speak, listen when Mythiara speaks, and repeat after the Oracle. Do you understand? Repeat after the Oracle!”
Laranthel nodded his head vigorously, a sense of dread creeping into his stomach. Mythiara swallowed, the time had come.
“Great Night Mother,” Malanthea began in a booming voice. “In your name, I offer you this holy union and ask that you bless this marriage between my daughter, Mythiara Halana, and this boy Laranthel Astera!”
“Great Night Mother,” Mythiara followed, in as strong a voice as she could muster. “I ask that you bless my family and accept this marriage offered up to you by my mother! May this union strengthen my family and bear abundant fruit!”
“Oh, great Night Mother, queen of the darkened sky, I humbly ask that you recognize this union between woman and man and bless this princess with prosperity and strength!” The Oracle began to speak in her crazed voice and Laranthel became confused as her words did not sound like vows. Suddenly the woman peered down at Laranthel, her face curled into a wide smile. “I Laranthel Astera do accept this holy union in the name of Nxyea and promise to serve and protect Mythiara Helana to the end of my days, until death do us part!”
Laranthel repeated the words, fighting down the urge to turn and flee from the hall, to try and make his way home through the hundreds of miles of land he had spent two months crossing. “I, Laranthel Astera do accept this holy union in the name of Nxyea and promise to serve and protect Mythiara Helana to the end of my days, until death do us part.” He slumped forward, his eyes cast to the ground in utter defeat.
“And thus, as witness, I the Oracle of Nxyea recognize this marriage between Mythiara Helana and Laranthel Astera!” Suddenly, the statue of Nxyea at the top of the altar began to shake, the moon in her palms glowing with dark energy. The statue lit up and a low hum filled the room, bathing the hall’s inhabitants in a similar aura to that of the Oracle’s howl from earlier.
“Rejoice!” She yelled stretching her arms above her head with the black ball in her hands. The room erupted in cheers and applause as the Helana’s in attendance were taken by religious fervor.
Laranthel tore his gaze from the ground and looked up at Malanthea, then Mythiara. The former smiled down at him, while the latter wore a neutral expression.
“And so, the star born children are together at last,” muttered Malanthea under the cheering and clapping that filled the hall.
Laranthel fought down the urge to throw up as the disgusting feeling in his chest started to rise.
