Of Fantasies & Phantasms

05 : Janus

Published in 'On The Edge: Short Story Anthology' by @TheWriteOrder

Published in 'Tales From The Heart: Short Story Anthology' by @BooksCartPublishers

"Beware the falling silver slivers and the sirenic serene it emanates; for cruel is the snow enshrouding lands and engulfing life in its gelid embrace."

"...or so it is said." She murmured to her companion, as her gaze remained utterly bewitched by the ivory landscape of January, visible from the window of the royal carriage.

"Do you not agree, Jana? Even with the arrival of a single snowflake, life begins to wane."

Jana pushed her dark tresses cascading over her shoulder behind her back, and turned towards the man sitting on the seat afront, to answer. "And life would cease to be precious were it not for the reminder of death."

His eyes, though carefully guarded, shone with love and an inkling of pride as he replied, "Spoken like a true queen, my love." and extended his hand to hold Jana's bejeweled one.

Although, nothing seemed amiss from his usual regal appearance; the pensive pallor and the disquietude marring his Roman features was something she had seldom seen in the two years of their marriage. "What worries you, Janus?"

Minutes passed with Janus enmeshed in thoughts until he whispered. "As I am to be ceremonially enthroned this very day: I wish to be a king who abides by morals; yet I fear it is easy to tread astray."

Jana replied resting her palm on Janus' heart, "If you listen to your heart you will never lose your way." whilst his hand never loosened its clasp on hers.

Yet the warmth from his hand seemed to fade into the passage of time: as sounds of hooves and caresses of winter wind overpowered her senses; extracting Jana from her memories of Janus, she often indulged in hoping for a semblance of solace.

For merely seven years after their marriage and five years after his enthronement, Janus was required to lead their exceptionally skilled military forces into the midst of battle: which had been terrorising their kingdom and civilians inconsolably for many decades.

"I shall return to you, Jana." Janus assured as he sheathed his sword and mounted his steed. "I shall return by the time our child is born." Though he was barely audible amidst the horses stomping their hooves in anticipation and the voices of soldiers readying themselves for a battle which shall either be a harbinger of peace or more bloodshed; the determination and the intention to abide by his promise gleamed undoubted and unhidden: alike the rays of sun piercing through the mist thickening with the gloom of impending winter. Although Janus' commitment to return was infused with passion as the red of a rose in spring; unknown to all it was doomed to wither alike a blossom nipped by frosty bites.

To one's word, one must abide; needless to say, Janus prided himself upon keeping his word: and never did he fail to stay committed to his promise... except once: when the royal army returned from the battle they'd embarked upon months ago, with the banners of victory hailed high symbolising the beginning of an era of peace after many decades of bloodshed, yet their expressions were downcast with despair; as the royal steed trudged afront the army bereft of its rider, alongside the General clasping Janus' sword in both his hands, unable to meet Jana's gaze as he laid the sword in front of her feet with his head bowed in silent mourning. And by the heartless play of fate, the last vow he made became the first he ever broke.

With the demise of Janus and many great warriors, ended the era of war; and with the birth of their son, Ianus, began the era of peace for all: peace for all, but none for Jana; for alike the winter of January her life seemed to be a prominent reflection of the God they prayed upon: Janus, and all that he symbolised - the beginnings, the endings, the transition of time, and the duality of past and future.

The God intricately weaved to life in all his glory on the tapestry adorning the great hall of The Temple of Janus; wherein stood Jana, as her cherished past evanesced and transited to the future emerging from ashes: as an emblem of duality, between the coffin in which lay Janus evermore asleep, and Ianus' cradle brimming with a new beginning; whilst the mourning laments bled to joyous hymns in a blend of unforgettable haunting echoes -

Her mind returned to the present as again the picturesque woods adorned with snow filled her vision; whilst the caresses of cold slithered inside the royal carriage as Jana shuffled deeper into the shawl draped over her shoulders and pooling in her lap along with the ringlets of her greying hair.

Many a times, there stood no distinction between the memories of what was and the presence of what is; for nothing much appears to have changed since the last three decades, when Jana in the bloom of her youth accompanied Janus for his enthronement and now ... when the end of her life's journey no more seems to be a fable but a truth she'd willingly accept in few decades, she is accompanying their son, Ianus, for his.

Her glance shifted towards Ianus; and surreally the disquietude which had marred Janus' countenance en-route to The Temple of Janus for his coronation three decades ago, was also marring Ianus'. "What worries you, Son?" Jana asked, needlessly. For she had an inkling Ianus shared the same predicament as his father.

"Although it is inconsequential, it causes me much unease to even wonder; what if, as a king, I tread astray from my morals?" Ianus said with his brow furrowed pensively.

And as if the present moment was merely a fragment from the memories of the past; Jana found herself echoing both her words and actions, as she rested her palm on Ianus' heart and whispered. "If you listen to your heart you will never lose your way."

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