The Paradisaea and the Vultur

18

A long time ago, a goddess watched as her closest companions were taken by an unearthly darkness. They were swallowed by the one impossibility of an immortal life: death. This greatly saddened the goddess. She spent thousands of years with her two friends— or in mortal terms, her family. They suddenly disappear to a place she could not follow. But the force that took their life was still around. She purposefully allowed her grief to spread like a withering throughout the land so that the darkness would encircle her heart, feasting on her negativity. To protect herself and the kingdom beloved by her fallen confidants, she exerted a lot of energy to seal the darkness away. This excess of power allowed her to follow her friends, leaving behind a creation that resembled her child. This divine daughter fell into a long slumber. She should have awoken a long time ago, but through the meddling hands of mortals, her slumber was unnaturally extended.

She sits underneath the porcelain dome of a gazebo. The wind is cool as it swirls around the pillars holding up the roof. A fine wooden table stretches before her, filled with delectable sweets and savory snacks. A teacup presses against the palm of her hand. She sips the floral blend and breathes the scent through her nose. A smile lights her face as she lowers the teacup onto the saucer in front of her.

Although she is awake now, dreams continue to swirl around her peripherals. She hears the laughter of her friends as they beckons for her to join them. She smells the lingering musk of fading candlelight and piles of inked parchment from staying too long in his office. She feels passionate dizziness burst through her body as she twirls her around in a celebratory dance. They are together once more in this fading dream, and part of her wishes she could succumb even further into the folds of unreality.

"What do you think, Nahida?" A voice from the present pulls her away from the unconscious ocean. Nahida— a name she gave herself when 'Kusanali' was beyond her remembrance— blinks rapidly as she stares at Kaveh. He looks frustrated. His crimson irises dart between Nahida and Al-Haitham. The scribe leans back in his chair with his arms over his chest. He seems entirely disinterested in the conversation. What he shares in common with Kaveh, however, is an insensitivity to being around their goddess and king. Kaveh often forgets because Nahida resembles a young teenager, and Al-Haitham has never given much attention to status. Nahida smiles. Perhaps she would have been more upset if it were someone else, but she can't find the words to explain to them her position compared to theirs.

"There is value in changing the types of plants growing in a garden. It would help the soil by leaving and taking different nutrients than the plant before it. A change in scenery is also beneficial to mental health," Nahida agrees. While she was distracted by the dreams in the corner of her eyes, part of her was still paying attention to the argument Kaveh and Al-Haitham got into this time. Nahida doesn't think she could ever look away from them, even if she tried.

"See? I don't even know why you're arguing about this. You don't go into the garden. Your office window doesn't face the garden. You won't be the one removing the old plants or putting in new ones. I already told you I would handle everything," Kaveh gestures wildly at Nahida's presence before he fully shifts to face Al-Haitham. He crosses his arms over his face with a determined expression making his eyes shimmer like rubies. He looks halfway to pouting in a way that makes Nahida want to giggle good-naturedly.

"However," Nahida adds, watching Kaveh's head whirl around to affix a look of betrayal. Al-Haitham raises an eyebrow at Nahida while trying to repress his smirk. Nahida presses onward with a brighter smile on her face. "I have to disagree with planting mourning flowers. While they are beautiful in their own right, their meaning is far too depressing. You should pick more romantic flowers. I've been studying the languages of flowers for an opportunity like this. I've been curious about the wedding planning process, after all."