Crushed bone, mixed with decayed pieces of flesh, laid under a thick layer of ash.
That is what makes up The Pool Of Liyra, a beckoning fortune crumbled under deep kingdoms and cities. Fools say it can never be found- that it doesn’t exist.
But as Prince Cassius reaches his callused palms to the basin of the pool, rubbing the edge of it softly, it does exist.
He does not focus on the crunch of bone as he kneels, nor the dust that sweeps around him, the feel of decayed flesh on the bottom of his sole. These people had begged, screamed, fought to be worthy of gaining a truth or fate or another. But did not- so they were left, suffering in their own minds.
He lowers his eyes to the edge of it, reading the sacred words etched in languages of eons ago. Fates and fortunes and truths await you, if worthy enough.
He lowers his brow to the edge, sending whispers of the breaking words to bring the goddess to the front. Or perhaps, in the middle of the large pool. He didn’t know what would happen, nor who would be there. If it was to be a person, or a figment of light and soul.
A shimmering and shattering light breaks the darkness of the temple, forged so deeply underground. It shakes, taking the form of what could only be described as… ethereal.
Queen Liyra Soulweald of Elysian, blessed by eternity’s grace- all the same cursed by it- appears, her form misty, golden, and bright. She’s transparent in all of her, although the brightness of her eyes still shine true.
Cassius raises his eyes to her, taking in the beauty that radiates from her mystic eyes, and musing lips. His hands tighten on the basin of the pool, where the water now shakes and ripples.
“Prince Cassius. You have come to seek fortune? Fame?” She muses, her phantom voice seeping through the temple, forging the dust from the bones that coat the ground.
He swallows. His face is tense, the golden weaves of his hair falling onto his eyebrows, his sharp, beautiful face crested by a sorrow only age can bring. “I seek death.”
“Oh, Cassius, you are yet to be 300. Do the moons and stars not satisfy you yet?” She asks, the light of her rippling with each movement she makes.
Right. Immortal. He tightens his jaw. Perhaps the only thing immortality had brought him was his young face, and advanced capabilities.
“They do not. The moon and stars are not for me. They do not care of me. My family, my lover, my kingdom is gone. I do not want to live.” His voice doesn’t tremble, nor shake, but his eyebrows furrow together, as he himself comprehends his immortality.
“You are not worthy of death.” No warmth was present in her voice, and certainly not now. The air swoops throughout the temple, bringing a cold chill down. “You say you have no reason to live, though you do not search for one.”
She continues- not that he would speak anyways. “Find them. They will show you life again.”
He shakes his head. Hundreds and hundreds of years of immortality could not save him the confusion. “Them? Them? Please, I beg, bring me death.” He clasps his hands together, pressing his cheek against the edge of the basin. “Please.”
“As I have said, you are not worthy of death yet. I am giving you something to live for.” A warm light caresses his cheek, cold against the basin. “They will come to you soon.”
He lifts his head to her now dissipating form. “Please..please. Please.” He croaks out, the only words he can seem to form, his eyes heavy.
“I will grant you the idea of death. Once you seek them, your death will follow. This is all the Gods have written for you, Cassius.”
Death. Sweet, sweet death. He wished to breathe in its scent, for it to enfold him in his darkness, to take away his soul. “Thank you.” Is all he can mutter as she descends away, and the temple shatters into darkness again.
He closes his eyes, inhaling the deep, natural scent of the pool, of the crumbling walls that surround it. He basks in the coolness of promised death- a fortune so great it was unlike any other he had ever received.
Countless treasures had been rewarded to him- women, ailment, chests filled to the brim with gold that was warm to the touch- but never death. He tried, and tried, and tried. But death prevailed against his countless repetitious moves, countering him with a sweeter gift of more hardships to face.
He stands on shaky legs, lifting his eyes up to the cracks of light that filter in through boulders and tumbling pebbles. Light was beautiful, it always had been. It was perhaps the one thing he would miss in death. Everything else to miss had left far too soon, and had been reunited by their mere mortal souls.
He wipes his hair from his eyes, eager to let the soft sunlight filter onto his skin. Warm him, only as the thought of eternal sleep did. Warm him, only as it had done for 300 years, kept him calm and reverent and silent.
Now, it was time to find them.
Author’s Note:
What inspired my piece was a desire to replicate the stories I’ve always read of, fantasy worlds filled with things we’ll never be able to see.
Selena Hess-Lopez | 16 | Flint, MI | @selenalopezz14 on Instagram
