The next days had brought a great deal of disarray.
The normally quiet castle had become a bedlam, swamped by neverending letters and ceaseless meetings with courtiers, emissaries, and military generals. The Chamber of Lords–the council board made up of prominent gerrathean nobles appointed to advise Callan and pass laws–were more or less a permanent feature in the castle now, as well as their entourage of courtiers and aids. Mobilising thousands of villagers from their respective bordering territories–with all of the organisation it required–was a tortuous task, and it was all added onto the regular mass of work that came with running a kingdom.
Ella for her part had made herself scarce, pointedly avoiding the communal areas swarmed by the noblemen and their entourages, mostly keeping to her wing, the training room and the private gardens. She had holed herself up in her quarters, where Aedion and her were elbows deep in mountains of work. She'd busied herself drafting letters, sorting through statements and handling correspondence while Aedion attended countless meetings with Callan, Blaise and Valren, lapsing in and out of the palace as they dealt with the aftermath of the attack.
The attack had been like a demoralising earthquake; if the rumours about trouble brewing between the realms had caused unease before, now it had fully entrenched itself into the mind of everyone in Faerie. No longer was it a rumour–it was a matter of when, not if.
It was only after a few days that the state of affairs had calmed down, enough for Ella to take some time to tend to some matters.
Early dawn had the lands of the castle dusky, barely illuminated by misty grey light and the chill of early morning, when the sun still had a few hours till it fully rose. Ella drew her coat closer to her body as she walked through the deeply forested and vast grounds, crunching through crimson and honey leaves scattered on dewy grass.
An enormous ringfort crowned the far side of the forested lands of the castle, nestled between groves of towerings oaks, yews and hawthorns. It was a magnificent structure of stones similar to that of the petrium, deeply carved with abstract symbols.
Enclosed between the thick, colossal walls of the protective fort was a temple. An enormous, circular building of age-worn stone, upheld by elaborate pillars twined by ivy and foxglove, the stone carved with arcane symbols as well, old as time. The entablature on top of the pillars depicted beautifully moulded images of animals, flowers and creatures. The weathered building was one with the earth, covered by webs of lichen and made of craggy rock, at home in the midst of the forest.
The inside of the temple was circular as well. Torches flickered on the stone walls, illuminating the stonework in hues of golden–depictions of flora and fauna. Rows upon rows of stone tiers winded and curved around the room, all surrounding a central area in the middle, where a raised stone dais jutted from the ground. The sweet, smoky scent of incense mingled in the air, accompanied by the chilly gloom that comes from all worship houses, across any and all religions.
The humming of power rippled over her skin as she made her way inside, under her feet, around her. The thrum of magic and ancient, otherworldly power.
An enormous, circular skylight dominated the centre of the room. On one half, rays and beams were carved into the stone ceiling, like a giant sun; on the other side, the phases of the moon. Pale, grey light poured through it, bathing the dais and the room in luminosity, giving it all a soft air of ethereal beauty.
Upon the raised stone dais stood an altar, a long slab of gleaming white stone dominating the space. Behind the altar, commanding all attention, there were two statues. A horned woman of white and gold sitting on a throne, a queen with a crown of flowers and an expression of aloof, all-seeing power. Her hand was held up, spread wide; 5 fingers, like her children. Next to her, another imposing statue–a massive black wolf of onyx, his enormous expanse of wings spread out proudly, vicious claws and shining violet eyes. The Great Mother and her child, God Arawn.
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Heirs of the Gods
FantasyOnce upon a time, thousands of years ago, men and fae lived side by side. These were often dark times, as men had little means to defend themselves from the powerful creatures capable of destroying villages in mere seconds. Through bloody battle and...
