The king, the Queen. # 8

She can see me,  Andreea. The woman is no ordinary human. No other has seen me for anything other than a middle aged woman. For her to see me so--"

"Maria,  enough. The girl is human. There is no doubt to it. I felt her essence the moment she stepped foot on Romanian soil"

"What do you make of the shadows that follow her then? No being from the other side has ever had the bravery to test themselves against our powers,  and the wards that protect our home. And yet they risk death to follow her"

"It is not our place to be able to do anything about it"

"We are sworn protectors-"

"No! We are not. Not since she died. We are no longer warriors Maria. I am a cafe owner and you own a hotel. This is it"

"We have to do something about the woman? If only understand what she is better"

"To disturb a human who has done to us nothing? When we make sure not to involve ourselves in human business?"

"She is on our land"

"Permission would have to be granted by the ancients themselves. Just two issues with that. One, there is no news of them. Second, even if it was granted we are not eligible to be able to investigate it further. It would be given to some warrior"

She could feel Maria recoil. The words were a knife to their hearts everytime.

"We lost everything; did we not?"

Marias voice is heavy with sorrow she could feel echoed in her own heart.

"Do not dig old graves. Go!"

***********

A woman sits in a dark room. A small chest clutched to her chest. Her heart breaks once more, blood seeps out of the wounds she has patched again and again over the years. She eyes the blade in her hand, crafted especially for her by the best swordsmiths of the kingdom.

Andreea .

"My name"

She runs her fingers over the word. Tears trickle doen her face. A woman born and trained a warrior, only to lose everything.

They had given up their swords, never to wield them again, when she had died.

Their purpose was over. They had failed. She was gone, and it was their fault.

The once mighty Queen's Guard. Now nothing more than a shadow of loss and past mistakes.

She stands up and walks back to her cafe.

********

Katie stands at the at the edge of the forest. The wind whips her hair around her face. Nature is her reprieve. From her problems,  from those demons, and from the stares of the villagers.

Their eyes follwed her all the way here. To say it was disturbing was an understatement. As somebody who went out of her way to avoid attention,  Katie was at odds what to do.

Taking another deep breath her hand reaches for her pen and note pad. In the age of computers and typing,  she still handwrote all her drafts. There was something relaxing about a pen and a paper. Her new book was not expected in the market for quite some time more, but she still felt like writing something.

As the pen rustled on the sheets, she feels all her muscles relaxing, tension draining till she feels so light she could float.

She was gone in some other world. The world where there was nothing that could scare her, exactly where she belonged. These deep waters that she has scored countless times before.

Between seeing the demons, and the constant fear of not knowing how she could do it,  she lived a life of constant depression, anxiety and low self esteem. But when she wrote,  she was queen of her own world. Her words were all that defined her, not her looks, not her personality.  She wasn't some socially awkward woman, known for being a creep. 

Nature sings to her. Birds chirp in welcome. Trees sway with winds,  leaves rustle, the smell of earth saturates the air. Animals scurry here and there. She smiles again.

Standing up she moves to a tree that seems very old. It calls to her. Its heart full of years of secrets, watching generations come and go.

Her hand touched the bark. Lightly skimming her fingers, before compelled she pushed her palm flush against her.

She gasps and jerks,  something happened. Like the world just spun on its axis. She looks around startled,  only to find everything as it was. The trees, the sky, the river- except the animals.

They are gone,  the forest dead silent.

**********

Under the earth a man opens his eyes. He looks around snarling. Something has disturbed his sleep. A surge of power. Yes. That's exactly what it was.

But what could possibly have been strong enough to release such a powerful surge, enough to wake him up. He was the oldest of his kind. The strongest.

He sends out a probe. His family responds instantly. Enquiries and confusion. All but his mate. Wrapped in his arms she sleeps unaware of whatever has disturbed them.

Their self brought exiled was hardest for her. He opens the earth, a box under the ground.

"Love?"

The question he sends to her mind is soft. He doesn't want to startle her. Telepathy is stronger and more consuming than speaking.

The space in the earth allowed movement. And they didn't need to breathe. Yet you needed air to speak.

Her eyes flutter open softly,  confusion swirling in their depths. They glow a blue that always threw him of his feet and made his heart stutter.

She was strong enough to do this. He had to believe in her and so he said nothing, just let her work it out. He saw the moment everything came back to her. He felt the wobble of her lips he couldn't see due to the dark. He felt as she pushed it aside,  as she fought and won.

He reaches out to his son. Titus's head was clear and alert as he waits for his command. Christina is safe with her mate Ille (pronounced elijah).

He bursts out of the earth,  his mate and children besides him. Something is brewing in their land, he just hopes it is not strong enough to disturb his sleep, he who they had kept caged for more than a thousand years. He slept under the deepest of guards, and yet if he woke,  keeping him there would be almost impossible.

His bloodlust would destroy the world.

********

The woman plucks apples, putting them one by one in her basket. Her son loves apples. She picks a next one,  only to drop it with a shock. Her mind registers what is happening and yet she does not believe it.

She feels the rush of power that washes over their land. Potent. Heady.

In the jungle five feet barely touch the ground. They rush past as leaves rustle in their wake,  animals come out of shelter. They recognize the signature of power,  the purity of their presence. They run faster than the wind, bare feet touching the ground as the earth buzzes in delight.

The woman stands dumbfounded, apples laying forgotten at her feet. Tears glisten in her eyes.

The ancients have come back to Romania.

*******