A simple letter had been penned by the hand that healed her – the one that had found her and guided her back to Meissa – and sent immediately to the Guardian of Raeyithia. Over the span of a few days, the two learned a little more of one another and built a bridge of trust. Though Sylise kept her privacy on what was troubling her the most, Bhavika did not rescind her offer of help. However, adhering to the oaths she’d taken as a physician, she drew up a plan of rehabilitation for the nagini surrounding the very foundation of nutrition. Sylise was thin and dehydrated, the latter causing a dullness in her scales, and her former strength had waned considerably. Travel was to be impossible for a while and the former zeal she once had was nothing more than a dim flicker in the void.
It took weeks before Sylise and Lilitu met and in that time, she had made steady progress in recovery. The reunion was instantly jubilant and the sisterly love that had been forgotten in the darkest of moments filled the room with its familiarity. When the din of excitement faded, it was Lilitu who turned serious and pointedly asked what others had before with no revealing answers or had wanted to ask but didn’t.
“Why did you leave?” Lilitu’s face was hurt and worried, for the act of abandoning the throne was more than just what it seemed… It was also a clear message of abandoning the people and the principles they shared.
A surge of hot blood filled Sylise’s cheeks, giving her greenish scales a dusky color. The question was not getting any easier and because it was coming from Lilitu, the shame felt like an insurmountable burden. Lilitu was the only one she felt she could trust and was the reason for the letter. Sylise didn’t know what she sought… forgiveness? Vindication? It was more than that… she was hoping for help. But what that looked like, what what would entail, she couldn’t fathom.
“I know… It was sudden and it’s an act I am ashamed of. I had reason.. have.. a reason but it’s not easy to speak. Even now I worry. What I tell you, please, for now.. keep between us. I have told the Vizier only part of this. Just enough that it is truthful. For what I am about to say, only you will know.”
The Guardian had sat across the large stone table, the concern growing deeper in her delicate, otherworldly features. “Of course, Sylise… I have been worried about you.”
The naga took a deep, cleansing breath, then exhaled slowly. A slight tremor shook her hand, a direct manifestation of her shame. “Shortly after I took the throne, I began to change laws of Andus. Those traditions that seemed barbaric to me and a sin in my people’s eyes. I was in the midst of writing the heaviest ones when I discovered something remarkable.”
For a moment, her yellow eyes brightened in the candlelit room.
She hesitated and straightened a moment, then resumed, “Once in a great, long while, my Goddess, Lyssia, bestows a precious gift upon a chosen daughter. It’s not a greatly common act nor is it one that we dwell upon or dismiss either, but it is a true celebration.” Another brief pause, the words hitching in her throat in a bittersweet taste, “I learned then I was pregnant.”
Lilitu’s face was a mix of joy and concern and immediately she closed the gap between them and sat next to the giant naga. Instinctively, she reached her hands to Sylise’s and the simple gesture of genuine care and concern by another nearly broke Sylise’s resolve. “I’m the last that I know of and to have been gifted this… Was a joyful surprise. There had been some difficulty in preparing a space for my clutch to be nested but there was a subterranean room upon the estate and there I prepared for their birth.”
The two women clutched hands tightly, with Lilitu’s voice soft and comforting. The brief moment of recollection of joy melded into anguish nearly instantly.
“I was weakened after the birth.. exhaustion and stress combined left me feeling less like myself and I retreated physically so I could recover. During this time, I hired a caretaker to oversee me and my soon to be babies.” The candlelight flickered in the room above the palace, and silence settled for a few moments while Sylise swallowed hard to steel herself. Words of gentle encouragement came from the normally spirited Queen of Raeyithia. Finally, the silence was broken.
“There was a night in which I gave my caretaker early leave as I was feeling much better. I had just retreated from the room to fetch myself a meal and temporary respite. I eventually fell asleep. Sounds of shouting and clamor woke me suddenly – it was well into the night by then – and when I rushed out to meet the commotion, guards were chasing off black clad figures from the palace grounds. I-”
Head bowed, she cradled it in a hand, “Intuition told me to check the clutch, but it was too late. The destruction was brutal.. every egg was purposely smashed.” Sylise choked a sob, “I… died that day. Every fiber of my being was obliterated in that moment.” As her eyes closed, tears began to flow rapidly down her cheeks and dripped from her pointed chin. Lilitu gasped, covering her mouth.
“How could I leave the kingdom and the people… How could I stay when my children were murdered? My intent was to die in the desert and be rid of the foulness that invades the hearts of the wicked here. But here I am… facing the music of my actions.”
Lilitu embraced her tightly, comforting her in the massive loss of her children and the crime that went quiet. “Promise me, Lilitu, do not breathe a word of this yet.” As they pulled back from one another, the Guardian echoed her word to keep silent.
It took weeks before Sylise and Lilitu met and in that time, she had made steady progress in recovery. The reunion was instantly jubilant and the sisterly love that had been forgotten in the darkest of moments filled the room with its familiarity. When the din of excitement faded, it was Lilitu who turned serious and pointedly asked what others had before with no revealing answers or had wanted to ask but didn’t.
“Why did you leave?” Lilitu’s face was hurt and worried, for the act of abandoning the throne was more than just what it seemed… It was also a clear message of abandoning the people and the principles they shared.
A surge of hot blood filled Sylise’s cheeks, giving her greenish scales a dusky color. The question was not getting any easier and because it was coming from Lilitu, the shame felt like an insurmountable burden. Lilitu was the only one she felt she could trust and was the reason for the letter. Sylise didn’t know what she sought… forgiveness? Vindication? It was more than that… she was hoping for help. But what that looked like, what what would entail, she couldn’t fathom.
“I know… It was sudden and it’s an act I am ashamed of. I had reason.. have.. a reason but it’s not easy to speak. Even now I worry. What I tell you, please, for now.. keep between us. I have told the Vizier only part of this. Just enough that it is truthful. For what I am about to say, only you will know.”
The Guardian had sat across the large stone table, the concern growing deeper in her delicate, otherworldly features. “Of course, Sylise… I have been worried about you.”
The naga took a deep, cleansing breath, then exhaled slowly. A slight tremor shook her hand, a direct manifestation of her shame. “Shortly after I took the throne, I began to change laws of Andus. Those traditions that seemed barbaric to me and a sin in my people’s eyes. I was in the midst of writing the heaviest ones when I discovered something remarkable.”
For a moment, her yellow eyes brightened in the candlelit room.
She hesitated and straightened a moment, then resumed, “Once in a great, long while, my Goddess, Lyssia, bestows a precious gift upon a chosen daughter. It’s not a greatly common act nor is it one that we dwell upon or dismiss either, but it is a true celebration.” Another brief pause, the words hitching in her throat in a bittersweet taste, “I learned then I was pregnant.”
Lilitu’s face was a mix of joy and concern and immediately she closed the gap between them and sat next to the giant naga. Instinctively, she reached her hands to Sylise’s and the simple gesture of genuine care and concern by another nearly broke Sylise’s resolve. “I’m the last that I know of and to have been gifted this… Was a joyful surprise. There had been some difficulty in preparing a space for my clutch to be nested but there was a subterranean room upon the estate and there I prepared for their birth.”
The two women clutched hands tightly, with Lilitu’s voice soft and comforting. The brief moment of recollection of joy melded into anguish nearly instantly.
“I was weakened after the birth.. exhaustion and stress combined left me feeling less like myself and I retreated physically so I could recover. During this time, I hired a caretaker to oversee me and my soon to be babies.” The candlelight flickered in the room above the palace, and silence settled for a few moments while Sylise swallowed hard to steel herself. Words of gentle encouragement came from the normally spirited Queen of Raeyithia. Finally, the silence was broken.
“There was a night in which I gave my caretaker early leave as I was feeling much better. I had just retreated from the room to fetch myself a meal and temporary respite. I eventually fell asleep. Sounds of shouting and clamor woke me suddenly – it was well into the night by then – and when I rushed out to meet the commotion, guards were chasing off black clad figures from the palace grounds. I-”
Head bowed, she cradled it in a hand, “Intuition told me to check the clutch, but it was too late. The destruction was brutal.. every egg was purposely smashed.” Sylise choked a sob, “I… died that day. Every fiber of my being was obliterated in that moment.” As her eyes closed, tears began to flow rapidly down her cheeks and dripped from her pointed chin. Lilitu gasped, covering her mouth.
“How could I leave the kingdom and the people… How could I stay when my children were murdered? My intent was to die in the desert and be rid of the foulness that invades the hearts of the wicked here. But here I am… facing the music of my actions.”
Lilitu embraced her tightly, comforting her in the massive loss of her children and the crime that went quiet. “Promise me, Lilitu, do not breathe a word of this yet.” As they pulled back from one another, the Guardian echoed her word to keep silent.