Chapter 2

The six tall and well-built soldiers put the rectangular glass box down to the ground. And the soldier who seemed to lead the ones who carried my mother answered sorrowfully, “We are sorry about her passing. It is unknown to the King why she died but she had been ill for days…”

“Our mother wasn’t ill for a day!” My crying sister sounded hysterical when she butted in. Her beautiful face was tear-stained. She kneeled before the rectangular glass box and placed her hands on its surface as she continued to cry.

I blinked hard and fast to still myself and control my emotions. I watched my sister cry her heart out and I couldn’t do anything. I stood there, holding my own tears. Because if I’d also break down and become weak, who would Shahrae lean on at this moment? I had to be strong! But my heart was already lamenting, yelling why it happened to our beloved mother. She was a very good Aryan. She was a very good and loving mother to us. But she… she was no more…

Our neighbors gathered round and looked on with either horrified look or confusion on their faces when they realized who was in the glass box on our doorstep. I knew that they too were puzzled why our mother was in this state now. She was such a healthy being with glowing beautiful skin and carefree aura. She was lively! She was the picture of life itself when she was still alive.

But now… My mind couldn’t seem to digest what was happening. This must be a dream! Just a dream. Oh, please… powerful beings!

In my mind, I was begging, looking up at the clear skies. It was the exact opposite of how we felt at the moment. Gloomy… dark…

“Why weren’t we informed of the state of her being if she was ill then?” I questioned again. My words tasted like bile in my tongue and lips. “We could’ve made her better!” I shouted at the soldiers like it was their fault our mother died.

The leader swallowed and blinked as if he was the guilty one. I looked at him like my eyes were daggers, piercing through him. He must know what I can do and what I am capable of.

He flinched and slightly shifted his weight from one leg to another.

“If no one of you knows the reason why she is now lying inside this glass box, I want you to remove yourselves out of my land this very instant!” My eyes grew colder by each passing moment as I looked at the soldiers.

They were taken aback while they looked at me. I knew my eyes turned from blue-green to steely blue. I had a glimpse of my skin as well, which turned into bluish color, which was a sign that I wasn’t pure Aryan.

In our homeland—and even in the entire Aryan world— I was the only one with the Arcturian heritage running in my veins. With that, some envied me, some admired me and some feared me. At the moment, it was apparently the latest one. And I couldn’t blame them as my reputation preceded me.

I am a fierce warrior!

The soldiers took their swords out as if I just threatened them physically. And perhaps I did because I just realized it when I felt my weapon’s head move and I heard his chuckle.

I looked down at my hand that was already holding my poniard, which was given by my father on my seventh birthday. It was a slim dagger, with a nine-inch length. Its acute pointed blade glimmered under the light like it made a warning to the soldiers. Meanwhile, its curvy guard promised safety to my hand. The head—I called him Ponpon—which was part of the handle located on the topmost of the handle, looked back at me with his red eyes.

I remembered that I had placed my weapon on the table while my sister and I were eating. And because of my telekinetic powers, he was now in my hand.

“I’m ready when you are, Xerra,” Ponpon said in a maniac tone, and he shouted like he was already in a battle.

I swallowed and looked at the soldiers who were so bewildered to see my weapon talk. They staggered backward and ran away like I was after them.

My sister looked at me with her face damped with tears, and my heart went out to her. My heart settled for a moment and I knew that I looked normal again because my skin returned to its pale color once again.

“I must talk to the King myself and demand answers as to what happened to our mother,” I promised my sister.

She nodded. And I didn’t need to ask our neighbors to help us. Six of them carried the rectangular glass box inside our house. Some women and children already gathered flowers and placed them around the glass box. We knew how our mother was loved by the Aiglean people. She was our Queen.

We stayed by our mother’s side overnight, remembering how she lived happily with us and how she lived as the Queen of the Aryan world.

In the light of dawn, we buried our mother the Aiglean way. The dug square hole near our house was surrounded with flowers and fruits as its walls, so that if her spirit would decide to visit her body, she wouldn’t feel and see the cold land. But instead, she would see the beautiful surroundings where her body was laid to rest.

When morning time came, just as the sun rose in the sky, our neighbors buried our mother with flowers and fresh leaves.

Our way was different from most non-Aiglean would do to their dead, which was to bury by land and stones. Some would even hang them on the trees, usually a mile away. The trees and the area where they are buried would become sacred places.

My sister and I watched as our mother was covered with fresh flowers and leaves. I held my sister close to me as she cried, and we both bade our last goodbye to our beloved mother. I promised to myself that I’d find her murderer one day. Deep down inside, I had the feeling that it had got to do with the Aryan King.

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