Set forth, one day, a lady on her quest
In search of freedom, life, and happiness.
To achieve such wants strength did she then test -
Fulfill them she did but in consciousness.
Within her mind there reigned such joyfulness -
So bliss ruled from the sting of truth’s pure sight.
And queen herself shall she then strike lifeless.
For sun is no sun without her pure light -
And light shines not without the sun who gives her might.

In the ghostly-pale light of the moon, a raven opened his wings and swooped from the bare, clawing branches that seemed to stretch like thin arms pleading towards a dark and hauntingly beautiful castle - a castle which sat at the edge of a towering cliff that overlooked an enigmatical and fearful sea. A chill breeze blew the last of the dead leaves from the trees and the raven, with his wings outstretched, circled one of the many towers the castle held. The castle’s stone walls seemed always to reach into the black and angry sky of the nights, making her almost as terrifying as the one who possessed her. The raven, perched high on one of the spires, cried out into the silence and his call echoed into the night, reverberating through the minds of all who heard it.

Avis shuddered as she listened to the raven’s resounding cry. Walking onto the balcony, she looked out into a night stirring with the first signs of storm. A cold wind took upon her hair of golden ringlets as she pulled her cloak tighter about her and rested a reassuring hand upon her swollen belly. “Soon you will see this frightening beauty of Maritima,” she whispered to her unborn child. Her breath made a slight fog into the air and she watched as it slowly faded into the dark sky. The full blackness of this sky was broken only by the white presence of the moon, whose silvery light was reflected in a sea ceaselessly throwing its waves upon a rocky, jagged shore. Dark, ominous clouds were beginning to crowd in on the moon’s pale light, and the clouds brought with them the chilliest of winds and tiny, white flurries which descended upon the earth to cover it in a soft, frozen beauty.

She turned and closed the balcony doors behind her. The moonlight shone in through the window and fell across the sleeping form of Avis’ mistress. Silently, Avis left the room and stole across the corridors lit with flaming torches. Taking one of the torches in hand, she wove her way through the dark hallways, hoping that no one would notice her presence. Finally, in one of the shadow-covered corners of the castle, she opened a small door and let her torchlight fall upon the stone steps twisting down towards the deepest of depths.

She thought she could feel the coldness of a thousand eyes upon her as she slowly made her way down the spiraling stairs, quietly descending deeper and deeper into the dark belly of the castle. The torch cast a strange glow upon the stones before slowly fading away into impenetrable darkness as she passed. She was getting closer to the underground canals - the smell of sewage was getting ever stronger and she thought she could hear the faint gurgle of the waters. Soon now, the burning fire from the torch would stop throwing wild shadows across these narrow walls and she would be in the safe company of friends.

Finally, Avis descended the last step and slid the torch into its proper place on the wall. Leaning against the cold dampness of the stones, she closed her eyes and listened to the pounding of her heart and the heaving rasps of her short breaths which shook upon her slender frame. The added weight of her golden hair upon her thin shoulders drew her to sigh and she knew that it was utter craziness that she should be doing this again. It would be hours before she would obtain the strength needed to climb back up those stairs. Besides, she told herself, in her condition she should be especially careful, if not for herself - she moved her hand once more across the full roundness of her belly. All her better judgment told her she should rest, but her faith still drew her here each year into this underground sewage amongst the mice and the rats.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way down the dark corridors until she reached a small, inconspicuous wooden door at the end of a small hallway. Gently pushing open the door, she entered a room scattered with several candles that lit the room with a soft, warm radiance. In the center was a small statue of the Goddess and around that her fellow worshippers sat in a ring of wooden chairs. Avis took her usual place in the circle and watched as Portenti, the old head priestess, opened a book of prayers. The head priestess was truly a sight to behold for young Avis, who sat captivated by the ancient features of this aged leader. Across her entire, twisted form, the old woman draped a heavy, black cloak with a hood that covered most of her white hair and cast a deep shadow over a face that held a most mysterious and intriguing appearance. Dark creases twisted their way along Portenti’s lengthy and haggard face which beheld two giant, glowing eyes set so deep within their sockets that there appeared forever a dark ring of shadow encircling the gleaming eyes. With a commanding clarity, Portenti looked at the present world using only her left eye. The other was reduced to nothing but a shimmering blank surface set against a searing scar which tore across the entire right side of the old crone’s face. It was said that with that eye, the old woman saw the world as it would be in the future. Strung around her neck, this ancient harbinger hung the emblem of the golden Sun - the symbol of their Goddess nothing more than a simple, golden ring.

Leaning her contorted body upon an old, gnarled stick, Portenti came forward into the circle and held everyone’s gaze with her one good eye. When she spoke, her voice reminded Avis of sandpaper vainly rubbing against wood that it could not smooth. “Three-hundred and sixty-five years ago, on this very night, those of the Crederan religion enslaved the worshippers of our Goddess here in Maritima and forbade the mention of our Goddess’ name. Where the Solisians once worshipped the Goddess in broad daylight, we now gather secretly in small rooms beneath the ground, huddled in small circles amidst the stench of sewage. Three-hundred and sixty-five years it’s been, my fellow Solisians, and the Crederans think they have made us forget about our faith. But every day we are made to serve one of them, every day an injustice against us goes unpunished, we remember. We remember our Goddess and the promise She made to Her priests and priestesses all those years ago - that She will send not one, but two, great queens bearing Her golden mark upon their foreheads to deliver Her people from the clutches of the Crederans. For three-hundred and sixty-five years, we have patiently waited for the queens and for hundreds more we will wait if we must.” The old woman paused and took a deep and long, grating breath before she continued. “We gather together now to worship our Goddess and to keep faith in Her promise.” She moved her aged fingers along the pages of the prayer book. “Join me now in prayer.”

Obediently, the group raised their hands, turning their palms toward the low ceiling. Their faces solemnly lifted, they let the old woman lead them forth through a long worship. After the service, the worshippers thanked the old priestess as they filed out the small door, twisting in a single line out into the sickeningly thick smell. Avis was the last to leave. She sat for a moment in her wooden chair, looking at the small, golden statue before her. Portenti saw the pensive visage of this worshipper and slowly she made her way towards her devoted priestess. “What’s on your mind?” the old woman asked. Leaning heavily upon her stick, she lowered herself down into the chair next to Avis. She tilted a gaunt face in the younger woman’s direction. “You look troubled.”

The youth studied the golden, flowing gown of the statue in front of her, noting the way the figure’s garment fell in splendid layers until it reached the small pedestal upon which the sculpture’s bare feet rested. Letting her eyes stray to the stern, aureate features of the face, Avis asked softly to the sage beside her, “Do you feel our Goddess is kind?”

The old woman’s eye turned in its socket until its gaze touched that of the younger woman’s. “Are you having doubts about our faith?”

“No,” Avis responded, in her kind and polite way. “I have no doubts in my heart. I was just wondering what the great Queen was like. Do you not know her?”

The old woman’s face darkened, her antique eyes acquiring a vacant stare as she reflected upon the other woman’s words. “Yes, indeed I do. She is like nothing I have ever seen, possessing a glorious power I have not the words to even begin to describe.” She paused and took a deep, sighing breath. “In answer to your question, Avis,” the woman continued to stare straight ahead, but moved her hand slowly to touch the searing scar in her face. “Yes, Destiny can be kind - kind, beautiful, and glorious. But She can also be terrifying - horrifying in Her absolute power and cruelty.” And an expression crossed the old lady’s face that the younger female could not quite understand.

Avis lowered her gaze to look at her hands folded across her lap. “Oh,” she said, stuttering a little. “Because I was wondering whether she’d grant my request that my child see the liberation of the Solisian people. I do not want to raise my baby in the bonds of servitude.”

The elder rested a ragged hand lightly on the younger woman’s sleeve. “I promise,” she said, her white eye glistening and a strange smile spreading across her face with the secret it held within. “Your offspring will see the freedom destined for our people.”

After she thanked the head priestess, Avis made her way back into the dark of the corridors, up the spiral staircase, and through the halls of the sleeping castle until she reached the door to her mistress’ chamber. She had to check on the princess one more time before going into the adjacent room to be with her mistress’ newborn son. Ah, an infant, she thought to herself. Soon she would have one of her own - one who would someday see the light of freedom.

All of a sudden, the door flung open and Avis’ torchlight fell upon the figure of her mistress. The Crederan princess was dressed in a white sleeping gown and in her hand she held a small candle which gave a mild glow over the wildly dancing light of the torch. “Avis, you’ve been down there again, haven’t you? I knew it!” She scoffed and turned into the bedchamber, her white gown swirling about her. Avis slid the torch into its place on the wall and followed her mistress into a chamber faintly lit with several candles and a dim, glowing fire in the fireplace. Even in the darkness, she could tell that the room was empty. The Solisian servants must be in the next room with the child. She watched as the princess moved to the fire mantle and lit the two candles placed there. As the mistress did so, she continued her scolding. “You promised me that this time you wouldn’t go. You know, one day my father is going to find out and then you’d be in trouble. He’d have your head, you know. I can’t believe you! Risking such danger with your child on the way! Are you going to keep this up after your child is born? With your husband dead, who’s going to care for your baby if my father discovers you?”

Slowly, Avis eased herself into one of the cushioned chairs beside the fire. Stretching her feet out closer to the warmth, she looked over fondly at the princess who now stood with her thin arms crossed, looking down stringently upon the disobedient servant. Avis smiled. “You will, Delphine. We have known each other since childhood, played with each other on the rocks off the shore. We have been through our entire lives together. Surely, I can count on you to look after my child.”

Delphine tried to keep her face in its firm position but soon it gave in and relaxed into a smile. “You know I will. You have my word, but I just wish you would not take such chances.” The princess moved closer towards her friend, scrutinizing the tiny beads of sweat accumulating over Avis’ brow. The servant’s entire face seemed to be covered in a wet film that glistened in the light of the fire. “Are you warm, Avis?” she asked, her voice tinged with a slight bit of concern.

“No, I’m actually kind of cold.” Avis sighed and tilted her head back so that she could see Delphine’s bed out of the corner of her eye. It was such a splendid bed adorned with golden bedposts and elaborate patterns. The entire thing was draped with a canopy of dark, heavy curtains lined with beautiful, silken embroidering. Even in the dim, flickering light of the candles, Avis could make out the giant, crystalline chandelier hanging from an ornate white ceiling embellished with golden designs. The candlelight threw shadows against walls plastered with the smoothest of a red fine cloth, also richly garnished with design. To match this red wallpaper, the wooden floor was covered with a most elaborate crimson carpet stretching from one end of the room to the other. She thought herself lucky to be amongst such wealth, for others of her religion weren’t so fortunate. She drew a deep breath. It was getting harder and harder to breathe now. She clutched at the pain in her stomach. “Delphine, I’m beginning to experience the most awful of contractions. I’ve had these before, but this time -”

“You’re sweating quite a lot,” the mistress interrupted. “Why, it’s practically drenching those glorious curls you have.” Delphine stroked her hand over her servant’s forehead to feel the cold stickiness of the skin. “Perhaps you’d better lie down.” Delphine was getting a bit anxious herself and could feel her own heartbeat pulsing a bit faster. She moved towards her bed and threw the drapes back, tying them to the bedpost. “Come, Avis.” she ordered.

Avis heaved herself off the chair and, with great effort, proceeded to walk towards the bed. Outside, the winds were beating against the balcony windows, throwing icy flakes of snow against the cold glass. The snow was falling hard now, descending towards the earth in almost solid sheets.

Avis began to gasp for air. The pain was getting to be unbearable and the wind howling through the windows was giving her a tremendous headache. Leaning back, trying to support her heavy weight with the thinness of her two legs, she felt the blood drain from her head into her shoulders, making her feel all dizzy and lightheaded. And then, horrified, Avis watched as the room darkened. The shadows leapt off the walls, spinning around in great, wild circles before closing in on her and pushing her onto the red carpet. The darkness closed in around her, wrapping itself around her neck and strangling the air from her throat. She cried out from the cold darkness of the floor, and then her cry broke into a savage scream as she felt a pain rip through her body. Clutching at her belly, Avis struggled to keep her baby within her, for it was months too early. But all she could see was the impenetrable darkness and the frenzied flickering of candlelight tossing shadows in leering dances around the room.

Delphine poured a glass of water from the pitcher at her bedside and rushed it over to her friend. “Listen to me, Avis,” she said, as she fed the water to her. “The baby’s coming. Keep awake and breathe, you hear me?”

“It’s too early,” Avis gasped, her eyes wide. Clenching her teeth in pain, she threw her head back exposing a pale throat which pulsed when she spoke. “There’s something wrong, Delphine. Go get help. I’ll be okay.”

“Hush. There’s no time for that. You need me here.” Delphine had gotten a wet cloth and now placed it over her servant’s feverish head. “It’s a bit early, but there’s nothing wrong. It was exactly like this a few months ago when I delivered my son.” She lied. She could see that there was too much blood. Already, it was soaking her friend’s gown and spreading onto the floor, making a growing, dark circle along the red carpet.

For what seemed like hours, she held Avis’ hand, encouraging her and soothing her while her friend gasped and screamed an agony that Delphine thought the whole world would hear. But no one seemed to hear, for no one came and she was left alone to help a woman deliver her baby in a slow and most agonizing process. The room was getting colder and colder, the flames in the fireplace dying down to its last embers and the candles were burning lower, the wax dripping onto the ground, making little pools of white wax. All the while, the storm outside grew stronger, the wind pounding against the balcony windows, sending the glass shaking in uncontrollable shivers.

Finally, when Delphine thought she could take the tension no longer, the baby came. Gently, she lifted it up, covered in a most unbelievable mess. It was the tiniest baby she had ever seen, so small the mistress could almost fit the entire baby into her hand. She cleared the child’s mouth with her finger and watched as it struggled with its first breath. Soon, it started crying and Delphine wrapped the child into a blanket. “Avis!” she shouted. “It’s a girl! You did it! You did it! Oh, she’s so beautiful,” and she bent over the child, wiping the baby’s face with the blanket. Then, in the flickering candlelight, Delphine made out something quite strange on the child’s forehead. Well, that’s an odd birthmark, she thought to herself. It was all golden and shiny, shimmering even in the dim light of the room. The mark was so tiny the mistress could barely make it out, but she saw that it appeared to be in the shape of a simple, golden ring. She leaned back, staring blankly into the darkness, astounded.

“Delphine!” It was a hoarse cry from Avis.

Delphine turned to see the head of an additional child emerging. “Be strong, Avis! There’s one more.” And a few moments later, she was lifting out another baby identical to the first.

Outside, the wind was wailing, squeezing through the windows and sending frigid drafts snaking about the room. The balcony windows were quivering wildly, leaving the princess wondering how long it would be before the gales would push the windows open and the white flakes would spill into her chamber. The room was getting colder with the fire nearly out. Delphine could see the whiteness of her breath before her as she bundled the babies together, crawling with them towards their mother. “Look, Avis,” she whispered. “It’s the queens destined to save your people.” And conquer mine, were her unspoken words. The princess lowered the babies toward her friend. “What do you want to name them?”

Her servant looked up at her with eyes clouded over with a thin mist and circled by dark rings upon a pale, wet face. She parted her dry, chapped lips and whispered, so softly that Delphine could barely hear her above the shrieking cries of the wind. “Call them Lucidra and Solyra.”

Just then, the balcony doors burst open, banging against the walls and shattering the glass windows into tiny bits of shard. The wind invaded the room, howling the most woeful cries and carrying along with it gales of snow that swirled about the room, lifting the curtains from the ground and sending them flapping in crazed, whipping actions. A frosty breath of air devoured the chamber, sinking its cold, gnawing teeth deep beneath Delphine’s flesh.

Quickly, the princess made her way to the bed and placed the babies beneath the covers before the winds snuffed out the last of the candles and plunged the room into utter blackness. Snatching the lights at her bedside, she struck a small flame, shielding it from the drafts with her hand. “Avis!” she screamed above the wind. In the darkness, she could make out her friend’s small form lying on the cold, hard ground. She fell to her knees and whispered into Avis’ ear. “Let me get you to the bed, okay?” When there was no answer, Delphine leaned over and patted her friend’s cheek. Already, it felt of the icy stiffness of death. Looking out into the bitter darkness, the mistress clutched at Avis’ limp body. The princess took a deep breath and choked down a huge sob that lodged itself in a large lump at the base of her throat, and then she gathered her friend’s head into her arms, cuddling it close to her chest. The light she was holding shed a gentle glow over Avis’ face - a face that was now as cold and as lifeless as the snow blowing in through the balcony windows.