The courtroom was filled with a countless throng. Its very walls did listen to every sound and did reflect all that they heard. All the great and puissant of the government and the host were present that day at the place of judgment. The one who was to be brought to account for her deeds was no common wight, nay, in truth, she was once the one who held sway over all judges, commanders, and nobles. The sovereign queen of the realm, whose name was Maera, stood as the accused before the law's wielder.
The judge did begin to read the decree: "Maera, daughter of Ilya and Angelina, erstwhile Queen of the Kingdom of Dorath, I do banish thee to the land of the dead for the remainder of thy days."
The queen held her tongue. She knew well that such a sentence was a fate worse than death itself. The sins and black deeds she had committed were unheard of throughout all history—horrific crimes that would cause even the heart of the King of Hell to tremble.
It was a still and pleasant midnight. The wind did gently caress all living things of the grove. The trees, the blossoms, the beasts both tiny and colossal, the fish in the lake, and, aye, the desiccated skin of a man walking amidst the grass and trees, beneath the bright moonlight, towards the crest of a peak. The peak was tall and slender, a symbol of the steadfastness of the people of that region. Its name was Amin. The man, with all his might, did drag his weary body toward the peak. He held three clay jars in his hands and did guard them at any cost. After much toil, the man reached the peak's summit. His name was Lucian, a man who had become old and frail in his youth. The bones in his body could no longer bear him onward. The man had lost all. Within the three jars, he carried the ashes of his wife and two young children.
Beneath the moon's light, he did fashion a small wooden pyre. He kindled a fire. The sound of burning wood shattered the peak's deafening silence. The flames grew ever larger. Lucian held the three jars fast in his embrace. Tears did stream from his eyes—tears filled with great sorrow. Each one seemed to come from his heart, a heart torn asunder and broken. The sight of Lucian's weeping would break the heart of any living creature, even that of the crow that sat but a few paces from him. The crow watched the man's wailing and remained silent—a silence born of utter helplessness and want of power.
Whilst in mourning for his dear ones, Lucian rose to his feet, feet that had no strength left to continue. He stood and moved toward the flames. The flames did warmly embrace him, as if they were his own kin, and in this manner, Lucian did end his mortal life.
"Arise, Nebula, the time for vengeance has come. Arise and harken to my whispers. The time is now…" Nebula heard this voice whispering in her ear many a time. When she opened her eyes, no one was there.
Nebula, a former member of the five-man council of the erstwhile King of the Land of the Dead, Hermes, awoke with a cold sweat upon her face. She dwelt in the Star Palace, which was situated in the northwestern reaches of the Land of the Dead. She had a tall and noble bearing, eyes like the reflection of the stars, hair as soft as silk and the hue of an extinguished star, and skin like the snow. She was known to be one of the greatest warriors in all five lands.
"What manner of sound was that?! 'Twas no sound, in truth, but a most gentle whisper. A whisper that seemed to come from the very depths of the shadows. What did it mean by 'the time is now'? Does it mean the time for our lord's vengeance has come? But I did witness his death with mine own eyes and did mourn for him. Yet, I must not take it too seriously; that whisper was but a dream."
"My lady, the four horsemen have come to seek an audience with thee. They do await thee in the court. They say they have a most vital matter to discuss with thee."
"I do understand. Summon the servants. I must make ready with all haste. The four horsemen do not come themselves for trifles; it must be a matter of great import."
The Land of the Dead and the Land of Men were divided by a great ocean. An ocean so deep its bottom could not be fathomed. Some tales of the Land of Men say that in the ocean's depths, a gate to hell does stand. Others believe that a great beast lives in its depths, whose spittle brings forth immortality. The two shores of this ocean were guarded by two great ships. No mortal man has ever yet seen these ships up close.
The question that arises is, why are these two worlds connected? In the Land of Men, there are a myriad of punishments for wrongdoers: hanging, boiling in oil, stoning, and more. But the worst of them was exile. Exile to the Land of the Dead, a punishment held to be worse than death. The one sentenced to exile would go to the Land of the Dead by way of the boats at the port of "Akhirat." Those condemned to this sentence were not permitted to meet anyone for a month before their departure; indeed, they would see no human save for their special guard until they reached the Land of Death. This punishment was considered a torment worse than death because men do not perish in the Land of the Dead. In fact, after many a year, they do gradually begin to lose their souls. All their memories, their feelings, and the very parts of their being slowly do fade away. They themselves do become aware of this but can do naught to stop it. To see oneself slowly wither and to be powerless to halt it is far more terrible than death. After several years have passed, the condemned become an empty husk, remembering only a small shred of what they once were. They see their sweet past memories fading away, the parts of their being that once gave them their identity slowly do separate from them, and they spend the rest of their days in wretchedness, hoping to find the parts of their being again, parts that shall never be found… This is the curse of the King of Death.
The main prison's dungeon was full of men whose very existence was a threat to others. Murderers, rapists, thieves, and more could be found among these souls. But one person in the dungeon did draw more attention than all the others: the former queen, Maera.
A month had passed since her sentence was decreed, and now the time had come for her to go to the port of Akhirat. The guard entered the dungeon's portal with slow, quiet steps and did walk toward the queen's cell. Maera's cell was at the end of dungeon passage number one—the darkest and coldest cell. The guard wore armor the color of charcoal, a hue that did show that he was a member of the capital's royal guard. His helmet did cover his entire face, with only a small slit for breathing. With measured and slow steps, he came toward the cell and took the key from the key-master who stood to his left. He did slowly open the door; there was not a whit of light within. After the door was opened, a cold wind did touch the knight's armor. He saw Maera before his eyes, seated with her knees drawn up. Her pale skin was white and cold from the chill, as if her body held no life. For the past month, her daily sustenance had been but a single piece of bread and one cup of water. The cloth she wore did not cover all her parts; it only reached to a portion of her upper thighs. Because of her raiment, her long and fair legs did show themselves when the light shone upon them. Now, after 30 days, she did recall what light and brightness were. The knight did step forward and came to Maera. He took hold of her long, golden hair and pulled it up with great force, so that Maera was lifted from the ground. She did whimper softly; she lacked even the strength to speak. "I can recall that day exactly. The day thou didst command us to… thou didst command us to behead every woman and girl who had longer hair than thee. I still do remember their wails and their cries. Thousands of innocent women and girls lost their lives for thy childish and foolish envy. Thou didst desire to be unrivaled in beauty, and now behold where thou art. Thou art dying like a swine in this dark dungeon." After hearing the knight's words, Maera bowed her head in guilt and sorrow and said softly, "Thou who wert the most beautiful of the fair, unrivaled, now look upon thyself; thou hast fallen into the depths of darkness like an unclean mouse." The knight said after hearing the fallen queen's words: "It seems thou dost still hold onto thy ridiculous pride. Arise and bestir thy carcass. We must make for the port." The fallen queen rose to her feet with all the strength she possessed and, with the knight, set forth toward the dock.
After an hour's ride, Maera and the knight did reach the port of Akhirat. The stench of death was palpable everywhere. The air was as though a mist of darkness and despair had been spread. A total silence reigned. The only sound was that of the ships jostling against the dock. The knight did dismount Maera from the horse, bound her hands with a rope, and led her to the second ship on the eastern side of the port. After reaching the ship, he unbound her and gave her to the special officer of the ship. The officer wore a full-length black robe. His face was entirely hidden by his hood. The ship's officers were known by the name of the Duke. Just by gazing upon his form, a shiver did run through Maera's body. The Duke took the erstwhile queen's hand and did gently lead her onto the ship's deck. Maera leaned against the inner hull of the ship. The Duke did release the rope from the dock, and the ship did set forth toward the western borders of the Land of the Dead. Maera turned her head and looked behind her. She saw that the ship was getting farther and farther from the Land of Men. She began to weep—tears that were not of remorse, but of sorrow and being sundered from her family. She had just now realized what she had lost during her reign; she had lost herself, she no longer knew who she was. Fear, regret, sorrow, guilt, and emptiness did come upon her. As they moved a little farther from the port, she began to hear voices within her head. "Why?... Why didst thou kill us?... What sin did we commit?" These voices were in her mind for the whole of her journey. She knew well what these voices were and whence they came. Now, whilst weeping, she also cursed her destiny. Truly, the curse of the King of Death was worse than death itself…
The tale of the Land of the Dead has just begun. A tale full of sorrow that shows the fate of two souls who do wander in the depths of the darkness…
End of Chapter 00