The Lost Princess

by Thistle Xandra

Year 1072 of the Mouvelian Calendar

The warrior crouched, still as a statue and barely breathing as he hid like a coward instead of charging forth with his sword and shield. The sky was transitioning into darkness, and if they waited a bit longer, they would have the aid of darkness to give them cover.

The thought of fleeing left a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew he had no choice. Their mission was more important than the cry of his own wounded pride. They were lucky to have survived and escaped the small group of White Mantle warriors that had outnumbered them five to two. With Kryta slowly slipping into a dangerous police state in which the teachings of the White Mantle and worship of the Unseen Ones precluded the safety of her people, battles had to be chosen wisely.

As a member of the Shining Blade, a group determined to fight the tyranny of Confessor Isaiah and the White Mantle, he knew very well that he had to choose extra wisely, because the White Mantle had a particular thirst for his blood.

Finally, the last shades of color left the sky, plunging the world into darkness. Even the moon decided it didn't want to make an appearance, and he would take that and accept that as a rare bit of fortune. As he stood, he ran the back of his hand across his forehead to wipe the sweat from getting into his eyes. He cursed softly as he realized it was actually blood.

His companion turned at his soft curse. He could tell by her deep breath and the small flare of her nostrils that she was more annoyed than worried for him. She raised a hand up in front of his forehead. Gentle warmth tickled his skin as she clucked softly, healing his wound without being asked.

"You're getting soft, Bartholos, if a weapon can strike you."

"We don't all have the luxury of healing our wounds before others notice," he growled softly as they continued in their mission, using the darkness as an added precaution since their disguises apparently weren't enough.

"I don't understand how they recognized us," his monk companion muttered, truly puzzled. Their disguises should have been enough, and no one should have recognized them for who they really were. She looked back when Bartholos didn't answer. She didn't need more than the dim light from the stars to see the flash of pain on his face.

"It was me," he said slowly. "One of the soldiers recognized me from when we were younger."

The muscle in his jaw twitched before adding in a quiet voice laced with pain, "He was my friend."

The monk didn't say a word although her lips tightened into a straight thin line as she stared ahead and continued to lead them to their target destination. She hated that there were injuries that she couldn't heal, and a wound like the one Bartholos received was one she knew would take longer to heal than the deadliest of wounds. "When we succeed, everyone will see what the White Mantle really is."

" 'When'? You seem to take it for granted."

"No," she said softly, stopping. She turned around, forcing him to stop. "I will do whatever I can and fight whomever I must to make sure it happens. If there is another outcome, I refuse to let it happen."

She turned around and continued forward, her back straight, and her head held up high.

"I feel sorry for anyone who gets in your way, Evennia," he chuckled softly, giving in to a rare moment of levity.

* * *

Night hadn't descended for long when Bartholos and Evennia finally found their destination: The Temple of Ages, the Gateway to the Gods. Here, the Shining Blade would become stronger and hope would be restored to all of Kryta, but not because of the temple itself.

No…

It was something very precious within the temple walls that would be the heart of the Shining Blade.

* * *

Priestess Salma walked among the roses in the darkness, using the soft glow of light from her own hand to light the way. These walks were her sanctuary, a time when she walked among unparalleled beauty in silence. The garden had been nothing more than wild weeds and unkempt roses, but with her love, it had transformed into her refuge.

She was inhaling the aroma of a blossoming rose when she sensed the presence of another. Startled, the light in her hand flickered before she saw her guest. The young woman was merely staring at her, tears pooling in her eyes as she stood motionless.

"May I help you?" Priestess Salma inquired with a gentle smile.

The woman let out a short burst of laughter before wiping away the tears. "Yes. You can help us return Kryta to how she was."

Priestess Salma frowned, a look of concern on her face. "Please, sit." She gestured to one of the stone benches nearby.

"My name is Evennia, and I was sent by Watchman Arad," she began, suddenly feeling nervous as she sat next to the woman who could heal Kryta. "We know King Jadon would visit your mother, a holy priestess here, and after your birth, he provided special dispensation from the royal treasury for the two of you."

Salma's face was expressionless while Evennia took a deep breath and revealed, "You are his daughter, Princess Salma." When the princess didn't say anything, Evennia continued, "Kryta's throne belongs to you!"

Instead of responding with jubilation as Evennia had expected, she slowly blinked her eyes and stood. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. Kryta's throne does not belong to me. It would be best if you left."

Evennia sat in stunned silence as she watched Salma walk away, disappearing into the sanctuary of her garden. "Wait! Don't you understand?" she called out as she ran to her, blocking her way. "You're a princess! Kryta is yours, and she needs you!"

"Please," Salma said gently. "You are misinformed. Please leave."

Evennia tilted her head as she studied the woman before her. There was no surprise and no disbelief. Instead, there was a quiet acceptance, as if… "You already knew," she whispered with disbelief.

Salma blinked slowly. "About my parentage? Yes."

"Then you know your Kryta needs you!" Evennia shouted, suddenly desperate to break Salma's calm and emotionless expression. "With no ruler, the White Mantle has seized control, and they're using force to make Kryta bend to them!"

"The White Mantle took control and saved Kryta from the charr when my father could not," she answered calmly, making Evennia wonder if there was anything but ice that flowed in her veins.

"The White Mantle saved us from one horror and are plunging us into an even greater one. Do you know what happen to the Chosen? Do you know what happens to those who don't want to follow their teachings?"

"Do you know what they do to those who talk to the Shining Blade?" Salma asked, a right eyebrow raised, making Evennia stop speaking to really see the woman before her and hating what she saw. "Because, I can only assume that you're one of them, since you're looking for a legitimate reason for your rebellion."

While Evennia stood still, Salma circled her. "I often wondered who the Shining Mantle would send to get me to be their puppet – a legitimate reason for a civil war that may as well destroy Kryta." She stopped in front of Salma, her eyes burning despite the placid expression on her face. Evennia realized it was fire, not ice in the woman's veins. "I will not be your puppet, Evennia. The royal line died when King Jadon abandoned Kryta and his people." Her voice dropped lower. "It died when he abandoned me. There are no princesses here. Do you understand me?"

Evennia's chin raised higher as neither woman was willing to break eye contact. Her nostrils flared slightly. "It's a shame there isn't a princess here that is brave enough to do what her father should have done. The Shining Blade will find a way to overthrow the White Mantle." She took a step closer so their noses were almost touching. "Mark my words, I will make sure that Kryta will not be destroyed." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Salma's fists tightened as she watched Evennia leave. She turned around to her roses, gently stroking a stem even though her hands were shaking with rage. She winced and pulled her hand back to see blood beading on the tip of her finger. She stared at it as her anger dissipated. "My blood bleeds red as everyone else," she said softly. There was nothing royal about her blood as far as she could see.

"Sometimes, what makes us different isn't visible."

Salma whirled around to see the head priestess walking towards her. "How much did you hear?"

Priestess Sherea slowly walked towards her. Her robes were silver like the hair pulled back in a long thinning braid. Her kind face was heavily wrinkled, but her brilliant green eyes spoke of a youthful spirit. "If you're asking if I heard about your heritage, then do not worry," she chuckled softly as she stood next to her to smell the roses. "I already knew."

"Of course. You are the head priestess here," she said quietly.

"I knew, because your mother and I were friends," she gently corrected.

"You never said anything," Salma said in a soft voice that was slightly accusatory.

"There was nothing for me to say," she told her. "It's your own path to take."

"Then you know why that woman came to see me."

"I told her you were in the garden. I knew it was time for you to make one of the hardest decisions of your life," Priestess Sherea told her as she gently waved her hand over the tiny puncture wound on Salma's finger and healed it.

"My father abandoned his people. How can they trust me?" she swallowed. "How can I trust myself?"

"You forget something very important, Salma. While your father may have been King, your mother was a priestess." Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at the young woman before her. "You have the blessing of the gods, Salma."

Salma was speechless as she folded her arms across her stomach.

"Look here," the older priestess said with wonder as she focused on a rose bud among the blossoming roses. "This one hasn't bloomed yet. Wouldn't it be such a shame if it were content to stay safe within its bud? It would never be able to show the world how beautiful it could be."

"Priestess Sherea, how could I—" she began before getting interrupted.

"Shhh…only you can answer these questions," the wise woman said gently before leaving Salma alone in her garden, surrounded by the roses she loved.

* * *

"Let's go," Evennia hissed to her friend. She was still seething, and Bartholos didn't have to be told that the meeting with the princess didn't go well. He had been waiting inside the temple while she had sought the princess out. Passing the time by looking at the statues dedicated to the five gods had been a pleasant one, but when a furious Evennia had found him, he had wished that he knew what had made her so angry, and she was in no mood to share.

They were leaving the temple when they saw a hooded person at the entrance. When they came closer, the person turned to them and briefly shifted the hood so they could see her face.

"We're leaving. There's no need for you to see us go," Evennia said bitterly as she walked past her.

Salma's hand shot out, stopping Evennia from leaving with a firm grip on her arm. She repeated sternly, "I won't be a puppet."

"I heard you the first time," she said, trying to break free from Salma's surprisingly strong grip. Bartholos was at a loss at what to do and just watched the scene before him.

"The Shining Blade needs a camp where we can coordinate our attacks so that we can strike at the White Mantle where it hurts them most while protecting my people from unnecessary bloodshed," she continued as if Evennia hadn't spoken. "I won't be able to do it alone, so I'll need people like you to help me."

Evennia stopped fighting and Salma loosened her grip. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm saying that Kryta needs a ruler to protect them. They need me to come home."

* * *

Priestess Sherea strolled through the rose garden as the world around her woke from slumber. She stopped at the bud that had been closed the night before, smiling as she saw that the bud was opening, and she could see ruby red petals shyly peeking through. A ray of light from the awakening sun illuminated the little bud as if welcoming the rose to outside world.

She turned and let the sun's warm rays kiss her face as joy filled her heart. It was a new dawn for all of Kryta.