Two Sides

Amante practically flung herself onto her bed when she returned to her chambers. She groaned when she heard a ripping sound and realized she must’ve torn a seam on the butterfly dress. Denara’s red mist formed the shape of a King Cobra once more, coiled on the bed next to the queen. Amante stood.

“I’ll return in a moment,” she informed the spirit before heading to the bathroom to change. Once she was in her silk robes and comfortable again, she returned to her bed. Amante sat down on the edge, and Snake-Denara slithered to rest beside her.

“Tell me how you died,” Amante commanded softly.

Denara sighed. “I can do better. I can show you how I died.”

Amante turned to look at the spirit, curiosity etched across her face. “Show me, then.”

The red mist curled around them both, and suddenly Amante found herself standing in the palace—or at least the palace as it had been a hundred years ago. She was still in her chambers, but the décor was much different. It was full of almost whimsical trinkets and childish items, and plants hung everywhere. Denara was no longer a snake at Amante’s side but rather a young woman who looked to be in her twenties. She had long violet-black hair and white eyes that shimmered with an iridescent glow. Her skin also had an iridescent sheen, making her look otherworldly.

Why would anyone want to harm such a beautiful queen? Amante wondered.

Denara was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at her pale hands. She jumped when a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” she called.

A small servant girl with dark gray skin and curly white hair entered, a nervous smile on her face.

“Your majesty summoned me?” she bowed her head low.

“Yes. Linnia, would you help me choose an outfit for today? I’m going to be sharing an important announcement.” Denara stood, walking toward the wardrobe.

“Of course!” the servant—Linnia—bowed again. She approached the wardrobe almost apprehensively, and Amante began to wonder why the girl seemed so afraid. When she looked around the room again, she noticed something strange. In one corner, the memory seemed to be glitching, and instead of more whimsical items, she saw a dark corner with cobwebs and something dark red—blood? Her attention was quickly drawn back to Linnia and Denara when she heard the servant girl say, “You would look wonderful in this!”

Linnia was gingerly holding up a dress, and when Amante looked closer, her heart felt as if it had stopped. The dress had also been made to look like a Monarch butterfly, though it was made of a different material and wasn’t quite as long as Amante’s dress.

That’s impossible—it’s too huge of a coincidence to just be a coincidence, Amante thought.

The memory glitched again, but this time it was the whole scene. The room was suddenly dark—only a few candles lit the space—and there appeared to be bones of creatures hanging from the ceiling and piled on shelves. A dripping sound came from the corner that had glitched earlier, but before Amante had time to process anything, the scene changed again.

Denara was now wearing the Monarch dress and stood on the same balcony Amante had stood on just hours ago. Her speech was somewhat the same as Amante’s had been, but it lacked feeling and emotion. It was more of a command to go to war than a plea. Amante could hear people shouting in protest below, and several advisors looked greatly upset.

Once again, the scene shifted, and Denara was talking to another Underlander. For a moment, Amante thought it was Alastor, but the person standing next to Denara was older and had amber eyes. Then she realized—it could only be Alastor’s great-grandfather.

“That was an impressive speech, your highness, but a reckless one too,” he said, his voice carrying a warning.

“I must do what is best for my people,” Denara said, seemingly unaware of the threatening tone.

Amante heard something else though—a whisper nearly drowned out by Denara’s response.

I’ve had enough of your insults. You and your brother will have no choice…

“What if this isn’t the best thing for your people, though?” Alastor’s great-grandfather asked.

“It is. In the end, it’s inevitable. Don’t you see? We either die down here, or we at least try to see the sun for once in our lives,” Denara said, her expression determined yet gentle. “If there was another way, I would have chosen it.”

The memory began to glitch again, and Amante realized that the real Denara was probably struggling to maintain whatever connection she’d had to make to show the memory like this.

She caught only a glimpse of someone crashing through a window, a blade flashing in the dim candlelight, before she was suddenly back in her own time. She stared at Snake-Denara in stunned silence.

“You seemed like a great queen, and although you didn’t handle the announcement very well, I don’t see why anyone would want to kill you for it!” she blurted, though something felt wrong about saying such a thing—as if she were lying. But she wasn’t. She’d seen Denara’s memories, and Denara had seemed like a whimsical, naive Underlander who was just in over her head, trying to make the right choices.

“The Verrés cannot be trusted. The thought of going to war is so unbearable to them that they’d kill their own in cold blood to avoid it,” Denara said softly.

“I’m sorry you died,” Amante murmured.

“Don’t be. You’re already a much better queen than I ever was. You will surely lead us to victory,” said Denara brightly.

The queen felt her face warm slightly. She opened her mouth to say thank you, but Denara spoke first.

“I will return to my mirror tonight. I do not wish to keep the connection for too long. Eventually, one day, perhaps I may be able to keep the connection to your mind and soul. But as of now, that would create too much strain on your mental wellness. I shall rest now. Goodnight, dear queen.”

Denara’s misty form began to slip back into the mirror.

“Goodnight, Denara,” Amante whispered, watching the red mist fade away.

She then curled up in her bed with a journal, writing and doodling. She lost track of time, and the artificial rain that came at midnight began to fall through the open window. The faux wind made the tapestries on the walls flutter eerily, and the bedside candle flickered, then went out. Amante froze, her heart beating faster.

She nearly screamed when something flew through the window.

A large black marble with a note tied to it rolled across the floor. The queen stared at it for several moments before cautiously shoving the blankets away and standing. She approached the marble slowly, her eyes darting to the window. Amante stooped to pick up the marble, examining it. She removed the note and flipped it over.

When you want to talk to me, trace the spiral on the marble twice with your fingers. I told you before—you don’t know the whole story. When you’re ready to hear it, use this.

The note was not signed, but Amante knew at once who’d sent it. She wanted to throw the marble back out the window, but something in her prevented it. Instead, her fingers automatically found themselves tracing the spiral pattern engraved in the marble. The spiral began to glow green, and Amante covered her mouth to stifle her gasp.

The young queen shut the window and pulled a dark cloak over her frame. She quietly opened the door, glancing once at the mirror. Shaking her head, Amante quickly slipped through the door and began to head toward the palace gardens. The sound of rain grew louder as she approached, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her.

What am I doing? This could be a trick. He could kill me! Amante glanced down at the marble, which seemed to glow brighter.

Soon she found herself standing in the gardens, underneath a gazebo-like structure in the center. She held her breath as she waited, noticing that the marble continued to glow. It was almost blinding by this point. Suddenly, the queen heard footsteps and turned to see another cloaked figure approaching. Wishing she’d thought to bring a weapon, her posture shifted to a defensive stance. The figure held up their hands, their pace slowing.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Amante,” Alastor called out.

“It’s Queen Amante to you,” Amante shot back.

Alastor bowed, though the gesture seemed almost mocking. “My apologies, your highness.”

“If you came here merely to mock me, you can leave now,” she said coldly.

“I’ve not come to mock you. I wish to help you,” Alastor said, slowly pushing his hood back. Rainwater dripped from his hair into his eyes as he fixed Amante in his gaze.

“Help me? That must be a joke,” Amante scoffed.

“I can assure you, it’s not,” he said, shaking his head.

Amante opened her mouth to respond when she suddenly heard footsteps coming from one of the halls that connected to the gardens. She looked from the direction of the noise to Alastor, wondering if it was merely a guard.

Alastor looked alarmed. He stood frozen in the open. Amante cursed under her breath and motioned for him to join her under the gazebo-like structure. He hurried as quietly as he could across the stone pathway, and they both ducked low so that the railing and bushes surrounding the structure would hide them. Unfortunately, it did not hide the blinding glow of the marble.

Alastor held out a pale hand, and Amante stared for a moment before realizing what he wanted. She quickly dropped the marble into his hand and watched as he tapped the center of the spiral three times. The green glow stopped at once—and just in time, too. Whoever had been approaching now entered the garden.

There was no familiar sound of a guard’s clanking footsteps. Instead, it almost sounded as if whoever was in the gardens were wearing high heels. Amante only knew one person in the palace who regularly wore heels: Tani.

What is she doing out at this hour? Amante wondered.

Tani paused in the garden for a moment, as if she’d heard or seen something. It felt like an eternity before the advisor finally left the area.

“What is this thing?” Amante hissed when she was sure Tani was gone, snatching back the marble.

“It’s a Mecunda—a magical energy that tracks its ‘soul mate,’ or the other half of it,” Alastor explained.

“Magic? Oh, please. Magic is for children’s tales. And this marble looks whole to me.” The queen held up the marble, looking for something that would suggest otherwise.

“The marble is whole, yes, but the Mecunda inside is not. The marble is merely a vessel that contains the Mecunda,” Alastor said. He reached into the pocket of his cloak and brought out another marble, almost identical, except that this one had a chip out of it. “They also change color if the person holding it is in danger. Purple means possible peril, red means imminent danger, and green, of course, means safety.”

“This is ridiculous,” Amante scowled. “I thought you were going to tell me the whole story instead of rambling on about weird marbles.”

“If you don’t believe magic exists, you won’t believe my side of the story,” Alastor said coolly.

“Oh, so your side of the story is a glorified fairytale, is it?”

“Hardly. It’s very real, and it’s no bedtime story,” his voice grew dark as he turned his marble over in his hand.

“Then tell me the story,” Amante commanded.

Alastor took a deep breath and began.

“About a hundred years ago, my family was a well-known family of elites. We were praised for our affinity for tapping into the energies around us, but most Underlanders didn't know that we could do more than just tap into the usual energies. There is another energy that surrounds all of us, and as I know it, the Verrés were the only family with the affinity for it. The Overlanders call it magic, and so do Underlanders—but those who can wield it call it Avetja.

There were a few others besides us who had the ability to naturally tap into Avetja, and while others studied it for ages, they could not unlock its secrets. Denara was nineteen when she ascended to the throne, and she wanted to know everything she could about Avetja. She had my great-grandfather, Hemlock, come to the palace as a mentor. He was twenty-six when he was summoned.

He did teach her everything he knew about Avetja, but she didn’t have the affinity for it. This frustrated her greatly, and she began to grow desperate. She started searching for other ways to gain power—and unfortunately, she came across a datachip of an old Follower of Zotzña. Zotzña, you see, is the opposite of Avetja. It’s a dark energy that consumes and twists everything, and that’s exactly what it did to Denara.”

“No, you’re wrong! Denara was not twisted… she was just naïve. She was trying to do what she thought was right for her people!” Amante cut in.

“What did she tell you to make you believe that?” Alastor gave her a stern look.

“T-tell me? She’s dead,” Amante stammered, caught off guard.

“Oh yes, she’s dead. But I come from a family of magic wielders, remember? I know when supernatural entities are nearby. How else would I be able to recount this tale when my own father hardly knows anything of it?”

“How do you know I’m talking to her spirit? How do you know I didn’t find a diary?” Amante challenged.

“All her diaries were destroyed in an attempt to completely conceal the truth from the rest of Mubrisia,” Alastor sighed, “and my great-grandfather told me her spirit had awakened.”

“Your great-grandfather is dead.” Amante stared at him, trying to force a look of disbelief onto her face.

“He is dead, just like Denara is. But those with Avetja can interact with those who have left imprints of their soul behind,” said Alastor patiently.

It took a few moments for Amante to process what he’d said. She stood up suddenly, her eyes widening with true disbelief.

“Are you saying I have this… this Avetja?” she managed to ask.

“Yes. I am—or at least, you have the potential to wield it,” Alastor remained sitting, looking up at the young queen. “But you haven’t heard the rest of the story. Denara began to grow unstable, and everyone in the palace became concerned. Most of them didn’t know what she did when she was alone in her chamber, but Hemlock knew. She’d practice Zotzña, which is an unnatural force. Therefore, it can only be learned by unnatural means.

Eventually, she announced that we were to go to war against the Overlanders, saying that we could be the race on top. Hemlock was suspicious of why she really wanted to go to war against those humans, thinking that perhaps she wished to complete a terrible test of the Zotzña—mass genocide of a race. Completing such a test could gain her great power. My great-grandfather confronted her several times, saying she was growing foolish and that she’d get herself killed. She considered his warnings ‘insults’ and vowed to send him and his brother to fight in the coming war as soldiers. She hoped they would die fighting, because they were the last trained users of Avetja.

Hemlock and his brother broke into her room one night, hoping to convince her to stop and rethink her plans. She refused to listen and attempted to conjure a weapon of dark energy. However, in her unstable state, the power killed her. My great-grandfather and his brother were blamed, but Hemlock took all the blame and said that his brother had tried to stop him from killing Denara—though neither of them were to blame.

My great-grandfather was executed, and my grandfather and his two sisters were then raised by their uncle. Meanwhile, Hemlock had left an imprint of his soul upon our fireplace, which was always his favorite place in the house, according to my aunt. I recently discovered that I could interact with him. He told me Denara’s spirit was active, and we suspected that she was going to try something. Phineas is a friend of the family; when I told him I wished to see the palace up close, he agreed to invite me on the condition that I harmed no one,” Alastor paused, letting the rest of the story sink in.

Amante’s head began to spin. This can’t be true. Denara isn’t evil! Surely she’s not just using me for her own agenda.

“Whether you believe me or not, that’s the real story,” Alastor said, getting to his feet. “Now, I believe I’ve worn out my welcome. Thank you for hearing me out.”

“Wait!” Amante said sharply. “I need proof. Proof that this ‘Avetja’ exists.”

Alastor smiled faintly. “Of course, I should’ve known you’d want proof. The marbles are proof enough, I would think—but if you still aren’t satisfied…” He held his hand up, his palm to the sky. An orb of silvery-purple light formed just above his hand, swirling and shifting. Amante shielded her eyes from the glow, her eyes widening with awe.

“What can you do with it?” she wondered aloud.

“I believe it’s celestial magic. I haven’t used it often, but I think it can be used to heal wounds and see glimpses of the future. It can also form a weapon—a bow and arrows,” he explained.

Amante was tempted to try and touch it. It was almost hypnotizing to watch the silver and purple light swirl, hovering above his hand. But Alastor lowered his hand, and the light faded away.

“If you need me, use the marble. And don’t tell Denara about any of this. I don’t want you to get hurt. If she’s already made a connection to your soul, she could very well bring harm to you if she so desires,” he warned before turning and walking silently from the gardens.

Amante stared after him, still trying to process everything.

The rain had stopped, leaving the gardens mostly quiet except for the drip of water from the plants. The queen stood still for a long moment, lost in thought—but her thoughts were soon interrupted by a voice that spoke from behind her.