Only if the steps didn’t pierce into the dark holt
Only if the desires wouldn’t surge off
Only if the ache didn’t ramble to the pores
Only if the pride wouldn’t bow down
Only if…
The clouds formed a constellation of mystery. They roared as if mourning over the fate of the little lass. The night was as dark as possible mirroring her internal turmoil. ‘Only if…’ she gravely thought but her question remained hung in the dark sky.
………..
Far away in the fertile lands, lies a kingdom, a prosperous one, The Kingdom of Aquila. People were content. Their king was kind and just. The empire was flourishing. Everything was as good as the land of heaven.
BUT AT A COST…
It was the belief of the royalty that if they keep the kingdom flourshing and robust then the duty to answer the prophecies should fall upon the people of this land in order to pay their gratitute. Thus, this axiom descended throughout the royal blood and was now in the hands of the present king, Argus.
The king, Argus, had a dream. A dream as weird as it may sound to a common ear but not unusual for him. He gathered his council and put forward his last night’s vision. It was more of an order to be obeyed than just informing the happenings. None from the crowd could gather the courage to step forward to compel his absurd wishes.
Thus, destiny played its filthy or polite game, whatever one can name it. Argus uttered a name, “Zarrar!” One of his strongest and wisest ministers. Shivers ran through the spine of the said minister yet he remained muted in the fright of safeguarding his life and family.
This was the point where Zarrar lost all of his hopes because what the king demanded was not feasible for anyone. The crowd dispersed soon after the king descended the throne. They consoled the wise man but they knew that those words were mere hollow canopies as none dared to help. Who could muster the courage when all were aware of the consequences?
Argus wanted to have a tree of golden apples and a fountain of silver water in his possession as he assumed it to be a prophecy from the dream, which must be fulfilled in order to keep the kingdom prosperous, happy and intact.
And if the designated person (who is supposed to complete the prophecy) fails to compel, the rule will follow by, the rule of ancient history. If the prophecy is not completed, then the head of the chosen person should be offered in exchange.
.
.
.
Zarrar came back to his residence and collapsed on the most worn out and grubby couch. His daughter, Aish, saw him and her heart clenched seeing her father in such a dreadful situation. She inquired and came to know about their sealed fate.
Fear crawled into her bones and travelled throughout her veins. She left him alone to gather his thoughts and think of a way out of it, though it was not possible to escape the cruel fate now. She came back to her chamber and stepped into the small balcony gazing at the night sky.
………….
The clouds formed a constellation of mystery. They roared as if mourning over the fate of the little lass. The night was as dark as possible mirroring her internal turmoil. ‘Only if…’ she gravely thought but her question remained hung in the dark sky.
Suddenly a thought struck her. ‘THE MYSTIC’ she remembered the book which was gifted to her a few days ago by an old woman while she was strolling out on the streets. She hasn’t read it yet but maybe… maybe fate could be a little lenient this time and she could find the answers to her queries.
She hurried her steps to the bookshelf where the book rested among many others. Its cover was royal blue with hues of gold and silver. ‘Gold and silver…’ she thought and fetched the book urgently and skimmed through the pages but couldn’t catch any glimpse of golden apples or silver water in the index. Her shoulders slumped and she rested her head on the hard core of the shelf.
Inhaling deeply, she was about to place the book back but something in her stopped her from doing so. She took the book and stepped towards the balcony and seated herself on the leather chair. She stared at the night sky and dark clouds for a while and prayed in her mind.
Opening the book, she carefully read the index and a few words caught her attention. ‘The tale of Hesperides and the Nymphs’ was written at the fifth line of the index. “What does it mean?” She mumbled. Unfolding to the mentioned page, she began to read the inked words.
"Far away to the land of western frontier lies a legendary hortus which is being guarded by the glamourous nymphs and the mighty dragons. The dew drops that illuminate the round surface of melons retrieve them to aureate.
The fear of morality vanishes by its consumption. BUT, be aware… be aware… be aware…"
She was puzzled because the words gave a concrete warning but a complete roadmap alongside. Yet, today she was thankful for her teachers and everyone who introduced her to various languages and thus, she was able to decode certain words from the inked pages.
In Latin, the word hortus means enclosed garden, melon is used for apple and aureate is meant for a material made of or having gold. Thus, the Tale of Hesperides and the Nymphs is about the tree of golden apples.
In the midst of disaster a ray of hope bloomed into her heart. She was now determined to alleviate the chaos that had fallen on her father. Though she knew that this hope is really fragile but she wanted to take a chance.
What if… what if all of this is true and not some sick game of someone. What harm does it bring as their lives are already at stake? A risk which can grant them security of their lives.
‘If this book knows about the tree of golden apples then it must have some information about the fountain of silver water.’ She thought.
Aish again looked onto the index and read a few words that incited her curiosity.
“The Fall of Fleshy Evergreen”
“Survival of Lustrous Aqua in Celtic”
"Longevity and Transformity of Eastern Knights"
Though all the titles grabbed her attention but these few managed to intensify her interest.
She pondered over these topics and read carefully, “Aqua… Water…! Yes.! This must be about silver water.” She whispered to herself and dived into the river of pages.
“Survival of Lustrous Aqua in Celtic” she read.
"Where the water meets the sky, a scorching land is wrapped in the mist of frost, about to float. A cascade of aqua descends and illuminates the path along the way. The lust of the silver survives as it is a rule decided by nature. But it demands… demands… demands…"
She closes the book with a sigh.
TO BE CONTINUED…
