Short Stories

The Water Beast

The lake was still. The rise of the sun bounced off the untouched waters. No breeze skirted the lake's shores, no animal drank from it. There had been no contact with the lake for the past three days. It was dark, damaged, and filled with anger and rage and pain. Something terrible had occurred in the sacred Lake of the Flight.

It was forbidden, by order of the Baroness, that no one was to enter the lake. Holy water, it was, to them. The Baroness was adamant that the forces of their world disliked those that bathed in the lake. So the law was passed, and was punishable by exile. There was no brutal deaths in this world, there hadn't been for years. No wars had been heard of, no battles... It was all done through trial and court hearings. Everyone heard both sides of the story, and the result was made without shedding of blood. Accidents happened, yes, but there was no brutality.

But something terrible had happened in the lake.

It used to sing in the sunlight, hum in the moon's gaze. The water danced to the rhythm of the world around it. The Lake of the Flight was a part of the good world, no evil.

Someone did something terrible in the lake. 

The Lake remembered. The Lake was mourning. It had witnessed the tragic tale occur of one brother's jealousy. Sloren, Son of the Flight, was the eldest son of the Baroness. He was the joy of everyone around the Citadel, bringing smiles to those that came across his path. Sloren helped his people with food, provided them shelter, and listened to their stories. He came to their aid. Sloren was their Knight.

Then his sister was born.

Cairantha of the Clouds, the Baroness's first daughter, and first heir. The title was passed down the female line, and no other. When Cairantha was born, the people forgot about Sloren. It was her, the Heir of the Flight, who they sought in need. It was her they went to when they wanted to tell their stories. It was little Cairantha who made the people smile. 

Sloren learned to loathe.

He missed being the people's knight, but he knew that Cairantha would always be the people's heir. There was nothing he could do - not unless he forced his beloved mother's hand. 

Sloren of the Flight waited years, after his two other younger siblings were born. Both brothers. There was no back up to Cairantha's title when the Baroness of the Flight couldn't conceive anymore. Sloren played the act of big brother while hating on his sister.

As Pegasi, they flew together in the skies. Sloren was always behind Cairantha, who flew next to their mother at the head of the flight. He hated her position in the Flight. He hated her stark white coat and cloud-like wings, so pure and beautiful compared to his sandy brown. Each time they took their human forms, Cairantha and Sloren would always play in the forest that surrounded the Lake of the Flight.

When Cairantha was almost nineteen years of age, he twenty seven, Sloren took her out to the Lake of the Flight. She would take over the head of the flight when she was nineteen, and Sloren would be doomed for any chance of being a Baron. Cairantha of the Clouds would be the Baroness, and the people would love her just as much as they did when she was born. He'd tricked her into visiting the Lake, hoping to catch her in the waters and brag to their mother of her treachery. His spoiled little sister would be exiled, and he, the great Sloren of the Flight, would take the title of Baron - the first male Pegasus ruling the skies and the land below.

But Sloren didn't know that their Baroness had already taken Cairantha to the Lake of the Flight, teaching her of its legend and its purity. She knew the sacred waters of the Lake, and knew of the trick Sloren was trying to play.