Tales of Theodora

Prologue II: Angelika

Angelika, she named her, as she almost undoubtedly beared resemblance of that of an angel, she was the true embodiment of light itself; feathery coils of silver, the colour of refined starlight, enshrouded her small fragile head, her skin glew an ethereal rich brown and her facial features were delicately molded into her flesh, smooth and unblemished like a slab of looking glass.

Darkness no longer pervaded their world; the sky was lit an azure blue and the blinding orb that the elderly had habitually reminisced over, that they yearned for each and every time they lost one of their own to the darkness, was no legend or fabricated imagery. Molten gold trickled down the cracks of the ground rather than the threatening red that they had come to know, come to fear, come to abhor, coating it with moisture. The whirlwind that had shredded through the kingdom's heart with its serrated scalpel was replaced with a ring of falling crystals; thousands and thousands of jewels distilled the air that had once been bitter and asphyxiating with blood, giving it a crisp, rich scent.

Word travelled fast. It would, when something they had for so long thought had perished, had ebbed into the earth's putrescent core, came back into existence.

Not existence. Into life.

An abundance of people gathered to speculate this phenomenon, this tiny child that had broken Cyrus's vitriolic, blood thirsty curse simply through her birth alone, this angel that had descended to earth, bringing a litter of gold and prosperity with her.

From the very first hour of Angelika's life, people worshipped her.

After four days of unspoiled elation, when eyes glistened with a new stream of star spangled joy, when cheers and laughs resonated in the air and ignited it with a new radiance, when tears of sheer jubilance were shed, came the day where they coronated her, declaring her the queen of Geia from that day, for years and decades to come.

Many believed that she was no mortal, that she would oversee the new growth of the kingdom until it was invincible, until it was unconquerable by any sort of blood curse. Those who thought themselves as more knowledgeable than others declared that no one could surely know, yet they were adamant that the crystals that streamed into Geia's core would ensure protection against her. There was seldom a day where crystals didn't adorn her gowns, trail down her pearl coloured hair, engrain into her glowing skin.

The citizens, feeble and mighty, young and old, all laboured towards restoring the kingdom. The ruins of bamboo and wood they had come to know blossomed into beautiful villages.

There were children who had never eaten a fulfilling meal in their dark and miserable lives, filling the withering pits of their stomachs with. Children who had known nothing but despair and the threat of death that had edged against their necks. What could they make of it when this abnormal concept of joy blinded their sensitive eyes? When the pall of fear was tugged tightly over their weepy eyes, over their noses, over their mouths? What could they make of it when the wounds of the dejection that had scraped and hacked at their skin to draw that youthful fresh blood has healed just like that, no scarring in sight? They were bemused; of course they were, but every single one of them felt the joy that emanated from the adults bleed into their pores nevertheless.

The wisest men were handpicked among the Kingdom in order to govern in behalf of Angelika during her period of infancy and dependency, which grew to come to an end relatively quickly as the child rapidly became stronger and richer in knowledge, making her even more so of a wonderment. Angelika grew to develop a deep indulgence for learning and soon became adamant on creating her own decisions with little to no help from the noblemen or any member of her entourage as young as six years old, her fierce independence charmed them all. So unfathomably rich in wisdom that her proposals and contributions towards the welfare and redevelopment of the kingdom were above what one could think of.

Education was one of the things most important to her; there was no limit on what one could learn and what there was in the vast world to acquire knowledge on. During her younger years, she had tutors which taught her in writing, needlework and Latin.

"Those are the subjects suitable for a young girl like you," They had repeated time and time again when she implored and reasoned to study more. Although she found great joy in writing and had a real talent for sewing and Latin, she so yearned to study more than the three; she wanted to learn everything.

The little free time she had was absorbed and spent pouring away at books. She loved science; she loved how intricate and complicated everything is, how everything had some sort of explanation from the tiniest of insects to the largest of elephants. She loved history; the study of all the monarchs before her intrigued her, the wars enthralled her, illustrated with paintings of men with their swords drawn, mounted on their horses.

But the book stopped short at King Cyrus. Not a trace of the pain and the anguish that they had been hauled through for so long.

She loved art, how something so beautiful could blossom from a swirl of solid colour, a block of ice, a stick of lead. She loved to dance; dancing told stories of their own and displayed personality, emotion, everything that words couldn't. It made her feel free.

They had to listen to her when she requested a school was built. Her engrossment for education was just so charming to the eye, the glimmer in her eye and the beam that slowly crept across her face when she began one of her many rants on the wonders she had learnt that day to her nursery maid, Stella, and how incredible it would be if every child was given this knowledge that made her feel so invincible.

The school had never been repaired since it collapsed and disintegrated into the darkness before Angelika's birth. Even before the curse, education was limited.

"Teach them to read and write and count."

"Teach the rich boys mathematics and the poor boys woodwork and the girls needlework."

"That will suffice."

Angelika did all she could in her power (a lot) to prioritise the rebuilding of the school, with a much broader curriculum. She wanted children like her to see the utmost beauty in learning that she did.

This was one of the many things that the child did, the Kingdom grew strong and resplendent within such a short matter of time. And each new idea that she proposed quickened the process, made it flow smoothly just as the molten gold had in the ground on the day of her birth.

Her abilities seemed almost immeasurable, all the more reason for the kingdom to believe that she was truly an eternal gift, an angel that had tore open the darkness of the sky, letting the golden light bleed through.

It was as if this wonder of a child knew everything. But there was one thing that she didn't.

Nobody told her of the circumstances of her birth, nor that she was the very cork to the leak of darkness. You would think that they proclaimed it from the rooftops for Angelika to hear, to know her fate, her purpose. You would think that it would be etched into some rock of sanctity, brandished above her head for all to see and know.

After the coronation, there was no looking back, each individual's neck was stitched into place, blocking the ability to swivel it back to the darkness, eyes glued forward, into the light, whether it blinded them or not.

So Angelika simply knew that they were rebuilding the kingdom. Her Kingdom.

But why?

It was one of the only things that perplexed the child.