The Queen of Elysium

Chapter 63 - Release

"Nooooo!" Elissa lets out a wail.

Taunting laughter echoes around the room. You are too late, little light.

The darkness recedes and the mirror returns to normal; just a reflection of her anguished face stares back at her.

A flicker of hope that it is not too late kindles flames of defiance. "To hell with Hades. I can alert Arcadia."

In a flurry of trailing skirts, she runs into the room filled with her friends. All conversation stops, but she pays them no heed. Logic dictates that she should go upstairs to her study, however, instinct has her rushing down through the palace to the basement.

The aged oak door to the Watcher's room opens to allow her entry and finally she comes to rest in front of a mirror. The carved frame with a rampant lion on one side and a bear on the other mark it as the mirror to Arcadia.

Without having to command it, the surface shimmers and reveals the Arcadian Watcher.

"Your Majesty." He bows. "How may I serve you?"

As always, she can feel his presence behind the silvery surface. A mad idea springs in her mind, one borne from watching movies, not from any firm basis of it actually working.

"Stand back," she commands, her voice as firm as her reserve.

The Watcher's eyes widen and his mouth opens to protest. Behind her, the Watcher in Avalon voices his concerns. "My queen, I council against such a rash course of action. We have no knowledge of the consequences."

His advice falls on deaf ears. She sucks in a deep breath, gathers her courage and then runs straight towards the mirror, closing her eyes as she jumps. There is a feeling of dissociation and her body being stretched out as if sucked into a black hole.

Time loses meaning, but somewhen her feet land on solid ground. Her stomach is the last thing to catch up and slams into her. Arms support her as she bends over, fighting the nausea.

Finally, she opens her eyes and almost weeps with relief to find herself facing the Arcadian Watcher. His normally placid face is lined with shock. Following the direction of his wide-eyed stare, she sees the empty frame where the mirror to Arcadia hangs.

Scattered across the flagstone floor are hundreds of droplets of liquid silver. With no time to dally, she sets off like a phantom wind, her form as fluid as smoke as she weaves through the castle.

The door to Aren's apartment opens to let her enter and her feet alight on his plush carpeted floor as she takes the final steps to his bathroom door. Her hand shakes as she grasps the handle. The door is locked, but splinters apart.

Stepping over the wreckage, she slowly approaches the large, claw-footed bath, dread pooling in her stomach.

Aren is still submerged, his eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. For a moment she just stands frozen, as memories of Greg's lifeless body plague her. History is repeating itself and another promising life has been cut short.

Reaching over the edge, she plunges her arms into the tepid water and grabs Aren, but struggles to lift him free. Think Elle. You are an Elemental for goodness sake.

The bath water undulates around him, rising up with his body held in its watery embrace. Then the power of air takes him and gently lowers his limp body to the bathroom floor.

Kneeling beside him, she places a finger to his jugular. There is no pulse! The deafening sound of thunder muffles her scream.

"Damn it, Aren. You can't die. Not like this."