Queen of Ash

Change Is In the Air

Rye

The sky was dark grey, the color of smoke. How fitting that the day we bury my father the sky would be smoke grey; I guessed the gods did have a sense of humor. My two sisters stood on my left and my mother, the High Goddess, stood on my right. A black veil covered her pale skin, yet she still managed to look regal throughout the chaos. My youngest sister, Ember, stood closest to me on my left shaking with sobs. Beside her, my other sister, Nina stood with her head held high, letting the tears roll down her face. Then there was me, standing in the middle with a crown on my head. My face pulled back into a solemnness, no tears had fallen yet, but they would.

The hardest part had yet to come.

We stood behind the rows of white chairs placed on the lawn, even the grass seemed darker. It was as if someone took all of the color in the world and diminished it to only shades of black and white. Someone took the light of our family and snuffed it out, plunging the rest of us into darkness.

The priest finished saying his prayer and called us to the coffin of my Father. I stepped forward first stepping into my role as King of Ignacia, it was now my job to lead. My back straightened as I walked forward between the crowd of my father's staff and closest friends. My black suit was stiff as I took small equal steps to the front of the funeral. My brown hair fell onto my forehead and I didn't bother to push it back. I continued walking through the aisles, with my chin up, eyes straight ahead, and hands behind my back.

Don't ever let them see you as weak, they will use that weakness to destroy you.

That was the last thing my father ever said to me, the words rattling out of him on his death bed. The healers around him said that there was nothing more they could do; the black sickness that consumed his body had spread too far. I could still hear the labored breaths he took towards the end, his body shuddering with every breath. I found a small reprieve when I realized that my mother and sisters would never have to hear that. My Mother, had always been at his bedside from the day he first fell ill. She only left when he dismissed her to talk to me. If she knew that I was going to be the last conversation he would ever have, I doubt she would've left the room.

He had motioned for me to walk over to his bed, the curtains blocked out most of the light, leaving the room dim. The fireplace was the only thing that guided me to his side. I sat in the black armchair that was pulled close next to the bed, the spot normally reserved for my Mother.

"Prometheus, you must be High God." He grabbed my hand slowly and weakly pulled it up to his chest. "You must win the throne. I expect great things from you, as do all of the Brands that came before me. You are about to be King, a most powerful one at that. Be merciful but only once, don't let anyone cross you twice." His eyes were closed, and his lips were pursed into a tight line. I knew every word that he said hurt him. His breathing got shallower and started to slow down. "Don't let your enemies see you as weak. Promise me that. Promise me you will do everything in your power to get that throne. Don't let them see you as weak, they will use that weakness against you." He squeezed my hand three times. I love you. His cold fingers wrapping around the warmth of mine. I poured heat into his hand and softened the joints. His lips curved up in a small smile.

"I promise," I closed my eyes and laid my head down on the sheets next to him. I sat there with my head buried in the sheets until I heard his breathing stop and his hand go limp. I cried for him. I cried for my Father, not the High God, but the man who had loved me and taught me to be who I was. Then remembering my duty, I pulled myself together and went to call my family.