Empress of the Gods

Atarah

Atarah wasn’t sure the moment she fell asleep, but Galad was very comfortable as a pillow, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore.

Her dreams always started the same way; the chilly breeze of the wind brushing her cheek, moving her hair against her sunburnt face, cooling her from the heat. The leaves of the trees danced with the wind around her, slightly lifting her white dress that seemed to be made with tulle layers and a leather embroidery at the waist. She was in a field of flowers that was near a lake with crystal clear water where she could see the reflection of a small island. In it was an enormous willow with golden leaves that traveled with the wind to where she stood. Near the willow tree were two pillars on each side in which there were two female statues dressed in what appeared to be a soldier’s armor with a hand on the hilt of a sword and with the other holding a vessel from which water fell.

Then she looked up at the sky to see the clouds, and the butterflies that fluttered near her and then around her, but something changed in that instant. She heard the neighing of the horses in the distance, and the sky quickly darkened with loud thunder. Everything seemed to change so fast that she barely noticed what was going on. She heard the sounds of swords unsheathing as she felt a deep pain in the middle of her body, bringing her hands to her abdomen as if that would relieve the pain. She looked at her hands painted crimson, darker than wine, her dress changing color, slowly expanding from the center to the sides. She was starting to feel cold, and her body stopped responding to her. She tried to scream, but it seemed that her voice had been stolen. She couldn’t hear her own voice.

Atarah had never been able to shake the feeling of warm blood in the palms of her hands. She knew that she would always remember it in the same way she would remember the man who held her in his arms—the same age as her—whose eyes reminded her of her own. They were exactly the same. His golden-brown skin glowed in the gentle sunlight and his onyx short hair made her believe he was the male version of herself. That man moved his lips as if he were muttering her name, but she could not hear anything he said, although she could feel his pain and anger as if they were her own. She didn’t know if those were his emotions or hers. It felt so real that she started to doubt it was a dream because she couldn’t even wake up. She was familiar with the dream she couldn’t shake. She was forced to relive it over and over again until it was over.

No pue hiderte dela tuo dimnstinea, Atarah.

A loud crash of thunder made her wake up as if the gods had grown tired of torturing her, leaving her with those words that repeated every time she had the same nightmare. She could only ever make out her name from the language.

She woke up covered in sweat in the middle of the night with tears in her eyes, her heart racing, and a scream caught in her throat. Atarah could hear the snap noises of the wood from the fire that had not yet been extinguished.

Galad surveyed her, worried, and pushed his head closer as if he knew exactly what she had been dreaming about and what tormented her.

William was still asleep, or so it seemed. He was leaning from the trunk of the tree with his arms crossed and his eyes closed.

Atarah contemplated the stars that were still visible in the sky, knowing that it would not be long before sunrise. The beautiful, warm colors in the sky were slowly sneaking in the east. The firepit began to fade, and the song of birds began to vibrate in the trees. A new day was beginning.

She sighed when she saw the bright star still shining in the sky as she longed for something more. She’d felt so lonely since she was in Khrysaor that she wished to be seen. Her heart longed for freedom, yes, but she also wanted to be seen. She wanted to feel she belonged somewhere. She wanted to feel loved, but the kind of love that the god of time stops to admire. And she wondered if anyone else out there felt the same as her.

Even if the stars didn’t answer, they always gave her hope. And more that bright star that still shone even if the light of the sun slowly covered the purplish sky.

She took one of the leaves from the grass and played with the petiole, making it spin with her thumb and her index finger before she kissed the leaf blade, leaving all her dreams in it. All that she wished for her. She only used a small portion of her wind gift to make it fly into the sky, seeing it fly away.

When Atarah eyed at the sky, she prayed to the Gods her sister was still alive. She was willing to make a deal with them to see Myrah again; she would become whatever they wanted.