The Chronicles of Onyx: Book 2

Chapter Six - Part one

Queen Demeter stood before a pristine battlefield, untouched by the horrors of war. It was a blank canvas, devoid of bloodshed... for now. Closing her violet eyes, she welcomed the chilling wind that caressed her ivory skin like a velvet cloak, embracing her like a familiar lover.

She had always felt a certain attachment to the cold, perhaps it was the familiarity of its icy touch or the solemnity of its presence.

Or perhaps she saw a reflection of herself in the cold and deathly embrace of winter.

-ooooo-

Her mother had sat on that throne for far too long, wearing that crown like it was nothing more than an object... no, it was so much more than that. It was a symbol. One of power, nobility, and wisdom. Yet Mother fell into neither of those categories. She was the maiden daughter of a poor Elven family, a peasant child born with the grace and beauty that could only be marked by elven blood.

Demeter couldn't blame her mother for her arrogant ways, letting the Orcs do as they wished as though they ruled over her. She wasn't of noble blood, therefore she couldn't possibly know what to do with the power she had.

She often thought of her mother as a mere puppet on the throne, manipulated by the Orcs to serve their own needs. Letting naivety and weakness made her an easy target for their schemes and manipulation.

'As long as the land remains in peace and war doesn't break out, I feel I am an honorable Queen' her mother once argued when young Demmeter had taken it upon herself to warn her mother.

How well that had ended.

But she had always known the truth. She knew the whispers that circulated through the court, the rumors of her mother's incompetence and the Orcs' growing influence. And she knew that it was only a matter of time before someone took matters into their own hands and put the Orc back in their rightful place below all kin.

That someone being her.

-ooooo-

Demeter could still recall that night like it just took place. Reflecting on the events of that fateful night, the memories flooded her mind with vivid clarity, akin to the clarity of the glass that cradles the queen's wine. As though they had been etched into her very soul.

-ooooo-

It had been a dark and stormy night when she was summoned to the throne room by Galihay. The old Queen's voice trembled with a mixture of fear and desperation as her violet eyes found Galihay's. As she entered the chamber, she could sense the tension in the air, the weight of secrets that hung, smothering the two of them.

"Demeter.." she had started with an accusing tone.

"I have heard rumors that there is a traitor in our midst,"

Her aquamarine gaze bore into Demeter as she spoke, as though searching for any hint of guilt or deception.

"A traitor who seeks to take the throne and claim power for themselves," her mother continued, her voice weak.

Demeter, however, stood tall, her expression a mask of neutrality, refusing to betray any hint of guilt or fear.

"And who might this traitor be, Mother?" Demeter inquired, her voice steady.

Galihay's eyes narrowed, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she composed herself once more.

"I have reason to believe it is someone close to me, someone I once trusted with my life," she confessed, her words heavy with sorrow.