Empress of the Gods

Atarah

Atarah cleaned her hands with a wet cloth after she healed a person that witnessed the fight between Elysia and her. She could hear the cracks of the wood in the fire, the crickets that were close to the camp, the howls in the forest as the murmurs of the people who stayed to keep the camp’s safety. It was a quiet night compared to the other ones with Hannele’s people.

“I thought we had a truce,” William complained with his gravelly voice when he approached her.

“Instead of being angry at me, you should be thanking me for saving your ass,” she alleged when she faced him. “And possibly hers,” she whispered, looking at her friend that sat close to the fire, observing Robbie with narrow eyes.

“I wasn’t going to kill her,” he replied, following her gaze.

She softened her gaze when she saw him with a haunted look on his face, as if everything he had done was catching up with him. He seemed lost in his own thoughts. Atarah wondered if she had been harsh with him. She opened her mouth to say something when she saw a cut in his arm. “You’re bleeding.” She took his arm and tried to see his wound with the light of the fire that was close to them.

“Is just a small cut,” he said nonchalantly. “I can barely feel it.”

“At least let me clean it,” she offered as she wet the cloth and squeezed it to take the excess of water. He didn’t move his arm, and she carefully cleaned his wound. She looked at the black ink lines that seemed to spell a phrase on his arm.

“It’s for protection,” he explained to her.

“We might have to hide that tattoo,” she replied when she touched it with her fingers, while she still had the cloth in her hand. “Do all hunters have it?” William nodded. Then he took her wrist where she had her birthmark and mirrored what she did, letting her feel his warm fingers brushing her skin. He lowered his head to get closer to her, looking at her lips. She didn’t move, only stood still, looking at his eyes, feeling her heart raced as if it was coming out of her chest. So, she closed her eyes, waiting, but nothing happened. He let her go and left her alone.

“Everything alright?” asked her friend. Atarah followed Will with her eyes, wondering about what happened or what she did wrong. “Atarah?” Elysia called, following her gaze. “Is everything alright?” she asked again.

“Yes,” she answered, as if nothing had happened. She was confused, but for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, and she wanted him to kiss her.

It’s for the better. We are better that way. She tried to convince herself.

“Did you find out anything?” she asked as she looked around, making sure no one was around to listen to their conversation.

The fact that the coven was no longer there didn’t mean the plans ceased. It was quite the opposite. She wanted to trust William and share with him everything, but they had sworn on that day they became part of the coven not to reveal to anyone the coven’s affairs. Although, it was more Rhiannon’s business than the covens.

Aeron seemed to be the only one who was aware of each one of Rhiannon’s plans, even if he didn’t fully understand them.

The Silverclaw leader seemed to be a woman ahead of her time. Always planning her next move. There was a reason why stories said she was the best strategist the kingdoms of the Witches had ever had. Rhiannon was the queen of the Witches. Even if no one recognized it officially. Every move she made was thinking about her people, her coven, and her family. In that order. So, she didn’t need to wear a crown or sit on the stone throne, because her own people knew it. She was the most loved and hated witch.

“Things are worse than we thought. Atarah perhaps …”

“No,” she interrupted, not letting her finish.

“Rhiannon’s instructions were clear.” Elysia lowered her voice.

“And where did that leave her?” she angrily replied, but she realized she had gone too far with her comment when she saw Elysia’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired of hiding, letting someone else decide everything that concerns to my life and having to become what it is expected of me,” she confessed, looking down as she bit her lower lip. She hated the idea of having no control over her life.

Elysia gave her a knowing look before she folded her arms and her eyes stared into space in front of them. “I know.”

Galad laid down next to them, slowly wagging his tail, while she picked her bag up off the ground. “She gave me her grimoire,” she said, taking the book from the bag. Elysia looked at it with wide eyes. “She wanted you to have it.” Her friend took it but didn’t say a word.

Atarah knew what it meant for her and how much she dreamt of that moment. She thought that the moment she became the new Silverclaw leader, her family would respect her and even accept her again. But when she was exiled, those dreams faded away.

Atarah saw the tear that slipped onto her cheek. Elysia examined the book in her hands and passed her fingertips on the cover as if she could feel the power it had.

“Do you want me to open it for you?”

“Why would I need it if I have my gifts?”

“She gave it to you, not to me. I can’t accept it.” Elysia tried to give it back to her, but she didn’t accept it. She could see the doubt in her eyes, as if she didn’t deserve it, when the reason she had the grimoire in her hands showed how much Rhiannon trusted her. “I know you, Atarah. You are saying she wanted me to have it, but you didn’t know I was following you.” She could hear the sadness in her friend’s voice.

“Who better to take the lead than you, Elysia Silverclaw.”

Elysia’s eyes crystalized at hearing those last words, while another tear spilled over her cheek, which she instantly cleaned with the back of her hand. Her friend understood what it meant and who she was becoming. No one could fill Rhiannon’s shoes, but there was no better candidate to be in her place than her. The last Silverclaw leader gave it to her for a reason, knowing that Elysia would find her, and that Elysia would follow her steps. After all, she was trained for it.

Rhiannon always made plans, which meant she wanted Elysia to be the head of what was left of the Silverclaw clan, and she dared to think one day, Elysia would lead the witches when she sat on the throne she’d once rejected.

Her friend was like Rhiannon. She thought about others before herself. That was the reason she was standing next to her. It was obvious to her that she’d done what was necessary to protect her.

Thank Uphine they didn’t send Storm-shadow to kill you, she told her when she explained to her that she was sure someone was following them to make sure the mission was fulfilled. Apparently, when a large sum of gold doubloons was involved, the guild wanted to be reliable for their clients.

After not seeing her in a long time, she noticed the bags under her eyes. Something was eating her inside. Atarah couldn’t see her like that. As much as she wanted to talk to her, she couldn’t do it because they had to be discreet with their plans. Even if Rhiannon exiled her from the witch kingdom, Elysia still belonged to the coven, no matter what, in the same way she and Myrah belonged.

They sat next to Dhara and the kids around the campfire. They didn’t say another word about the grimoire or their plans.

William and Robbie were nowhere to be seen.

“In the driadae realms, nymphs have always been considered deities. There are nights when driadaes dance in the moonlight, looking like the most beautiful creatures that ever set foot in this world. It is a beautiful dance that can become dangerous for those who break into it without being one of them. Not even the nymphs that appear among them in that magical moment—who have followed the path of light—will be able to save you,” Dhara explained, as she threw something into the fire that made the flames dance with the story.

While it looked like a simple story for everyone; to her, it was more than that. It was knowing more about herself and her kind.

She began to understand why the coven maintained their distance when she and her sister danced in the moonlight when they took them to the hills in Verena. They kept an eye on them, so they didn’t get carried away with their dance, but never understood why they did it until that moment.

There were a lot of things she didn’t know about her kind, so much that she needed to learn from them, and so much she needed to know about her.

“Tell the other story,” Theo requested, tugging Dhara’s cloak. “The one of the nymph who became a high lady.”

“Alright, but this is the last story I’ll tell you tonight and then you go to sleep,” Dhara warned as she sat Theo on her legs. “There is a story that the spirits of the wind whisper of a warrior nymph with hair like the color of the night itself.”

“Like Atarah’s,” Theo interrupted, pointing with his index finger at her.

“Yes,” Dhara replied, lowering Theo’s hand. “Don’t interrupt me again or I won’t finish the story,” she scolded Theo before she continued. “She had raven hair, silver eyes and her beautiful delicate features were light as the moon. She was one of the best warriors the castle of Asteria had. She was brave, determined, and, above all else, relentless in battle. The nymph was one of the best archers that Goddess Dryderia—the mother of all nymphs—had in her ranks. They used to say that every time the nymph wielded her sword, the lightnings in heaven seemed to obey her.

In the same way, there were men who underestimated them, there were men who seemed impressed by them in battle after seeing how relentless they were. Even the fae wanted to walk next to them.

Among the fae a young tall and handsome high lord crossed paths with her. The nymph was there when he prayed in the temple of the Goddess Dryderia, asking for the Goddess to help him protect his people in battle.

Rumors say he was so impressed that he fell for her the moment he laid eyes on her. He always had an excuse to see her again and to make her stay longer because the nymphs can only stay for a certain time among us before going back to the castle of the Gods. He did not want to let her go. The nymph knew what the High Lord was doing. So, she opened her heart to him and every day and night that passed, she knew that what they had would come to an end.

The High Lord asked her to marry him after he lost himself in her intelligence and her beauty. She didn’t accept his proposal right away. The High Lord told her he would wait for her since fae don’t age in the same way we do. They can live longer, but not in the same way nymphs can. So, he waited for her even when she returned to the castle of the gods. The High Lord visited the same place where they met. Sometimes he looked for her in the middle of the forest as if he could hear her voice in the wind, calling for him as if she had bewitched him.

The nymph begged to the Goddess to let her be by his side.

Even if the Goddess distrusted everyone with her daughters, she let her go, knowing that she would lose one of her best warriors, but that her daughter walked towards happiness.”

“And what happened next?” asked one of the girls with bright eyes who sat with crossed legs next to them. The girl with fishtail braids rested her chin on the palm of her hand as she listened to each word of the story.

“The nymph acquired the form of her beloved so she could be able to age in the same way he did. When a nymph chooses her partner, she acquires her beloved’s form. And the moment she leaves this world, she will leave him with the promise that she will seek him in her next life and the ones that will come after.”

The eyes of the girl shone as if she wanted to be a nymph. “To be together forever.” The girl sighed as she looked at the stars. Atarah followed her gaze and thought about the story Dhara told them. She could relate with the girl as if she was looking at her younger self, wishing she could have a love story like them.

“That’s right. Now everyone to sleep,” Dhara ordered the children as she moved her hands so they could go with their parents or to wherever they slept in the caravans.

Atarah wondered if her parents had a similar story. She wondered if what Dhara told in her story was the truth because, if it was, then that would explain why her mother disappeared. Maybe her mother lived in the castle of the gods, but she still didn’t explain why she hadn’t seen her.

Her sight got lost in the flames of the fire and when she lifted her gaze, she saw William, who was on the opposite side of the campfire. Robbie sat next to him, playing a sweet and calm melody on his mandolin.

“It’s a nice story,” she told Dhara.

“That was a short version for kids, but there’s more about it in case you want to hear it,” Dhara offered. She was curious to know more about it. About herself. She wanted to know everything about her kind.

“How do you know all these stories?” Elysia asked.

“My great-grandmother used to tell me those stories and many more that her mother used to as well,” Dhara explained to them. “Witches may know those stories firsthand,” she added when she looked at Elysia, “But my great-great-grandmother lived in an era where you could still see a nymph in the woods healing strangers who were in their last breath or when they came across with them.”

“Why do you ask, Elysia? Any particular interest?” Robbie asked out of the blue, looking at her with narrow eyes and arms folded. They distrusted one another more than she thought they did.

“No, only mere curiosity,” she replied, looking at her nails.

Part of what Elysia knew about them was thanks to her and she suspected her friend made her own research in those places, only to help her. Indeed, they needed to catch up with everything.