Post Mortem : The Fates

Chapters 8- 22

Part Two

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."

-Friedrich Nietcha

Chapter 8: Anthia's promise

The Queen knew better than to relive her past and yet she found herself with another golden key and another locked door riddled with age where the smell of mold and mildew crept through the cracks. This door had been crafted by a master carpenter. The ridges were still tinged with carved and delicate rose bulbs but it was no longer sleek and golden brown. It was blackened with decay and the knob was now a dull yellow.

Roseline's presence was still surging beyond that door and her little sister did not want to remain forgotten. The Queen wanted so badly to turn around, her room was only a left turn down a hallway from there. Her mind was screaming for her to turn around but she already knew that she was not going to listen to it. She was about to reopen a very old and painful wound.

Holding her breath, the Queen placed the key into the lock, turned it, closed her eyes, pushed the squelching door as far in as it would go, and forced herself to open her eyes. What she saw now was a room covered in inches of dust. The once piercing blue canopy of Roseline's bed was grey and ratty. Holes had eaten almost all the fabric of her blankets, her pillows, and her curtains. Her vanity mirror was almost nonexistent beyond the buildup of dust. Her wardrobe was rotted out. But beneath the filth that had taken over her little sister's room she could still feel her. She could still see it as it had been so long ago.

The Queen made her way to what remained of the bed and despite herself sat on it. The mattress was now stiff and lumpy but she had seen something on the nightstand beside it and she was going to touch it. She was not sure if she was going to be able to stand when she did.

The palm sized figurine that stood on the nightstand looked like a blotchy blob of a monster but she scooped it into her shaking hands and with the skirt of her dress polished the filth from it. When she was done, what remained was a porcelain wolf. They had been Roseline's favorite animal. Its mouth was still hung open in a never-ending howl as it stood on a snowy cliff. Roseline had slept with this wolf watching over her ever since she had given it to her for her birthday. The Queen cradled this wolf to her heart and curled into a fetal position on her sister's bed.

Anthia was three years old the day her sister was born. She waited impatiently with her young handmaiden Evelyn outside her parent's bedroom on a gold crusted bench in the hallway. Evelyn's hair was as rich as chocolate, her skin was porcelain, and her eyes were large and dark brown. Her features were soft and she had yet to grow into the face of a woman, Anthia had guessed that she was about 12 years old at the time.

At first being told her parents were expecting another child she had been ecstatic. With her parents rarely even talking to her it would be nice to not be so alone anymore. Then the thoughts began to creep in. They were replacing her. She was not good enough for them. She was not fit to be a marked child nor was she fit to bare their name. She tried so hard to make them happy and proud yet nothing she did could prove her worth.

The screams of her mother echoed throughout the halls. If it hurt that much to have children she was not sure she ever wanted to have any. Her father was absent, busy with whatever he deemed more important.

Hours went by with the baby still yet to come.

"She will be okay." Evelyn said as she took in the girl's distress. "Back on our farm my sister would birth many animals and even more women in town. She will make sure your mother is okay. She knows what she is doing." Evelyn's voice was very faint and nervous like a mouse's and she tapped her fingers on her knee with her feet eventually joining in on the rhythm.