Potenkiah, the deathgiver

Chapter 14

The day of the royal burial, five days after the attack, economic activity was halted in the entire planet. Those who couldn't travel watched it from their homes. The castle's outer gates kept the crowd of mourners at bay. They had come to say goodbye to their sovereigns, even if it was from afar, and many cried or demanded that the murderers were found and executed.

Like all monarchs after Erol, Alaissa and Jhon would perpetuate their existence in a pyramidal obelisk made from quartz crystals and selenite, which would be planted around the Temple of Light, located on the island of Elohí. Their remains would be placed in the foundations, encapsulated in customized coffins, while their holographic effigies were housed in the column's translucent bodies. Thirty-eight obelisks already made up the mausoleum, also called the Forest of Swords, where the mourners would land with their offerings before dawn, for, at sunrise, the sun's rays refracted by the crystals would make the whole island glitter in resonance with their beliefs about the ascent of souls.

Snowflakes came down tirelessly, it seemed that even the sky was crying. The Path of the Ancient Kings of Eloah, partly rebuilt for the burial, was flanked by a contingent of ten thousand soldiers clad in their formal uniforms. The solemn procession took place on the snow covered cobblestones, on which, ironically, the monarchs had ridden to their deaths. And although there were no signs of the tragedy, except for an irregularity in the ground where a crater had formed, the absence of damaged sculptures and the blackened remains of burnt trees contributed to the feeling of unease, of loss. The most superstitious claimed that the election of that path had been an omen for what would happen.

In the darkness of the winter dawn, the black uniforms of the militia merged to form a double fence of bodies stretching for kilometers. On the shore of the Manaas, the black coats and traditional hats worn by the special guests, or the robes of the choir, waiting motionless on the stands attached to the dock, were barely distinguishable from the dark lake, the icy forest and the gray sky behind the octagonal temple. Blue balloons were glowing next to the floating aleias, like iridescent jellyfish; a million candles on crystal shells slid over the brittle layer of ice covering the water.

The sound of drums, like a slow dying heartbeat, set the procession in motion. Pum, pum... The escort carrying the coffins moved forward and stopped. The echo was lost in the wind. Pum, pum... Another step, just one, and yet everything seemed to go by so fast.

A red cloud appeared in the sky. It was the mourners who flew like ghosts, making a movement similar to waves, clad in long dresses, their skirts ripped into strips. Their presence announced the dawn, and the explosion of light that would guide them to the island.

***

As if she could feel something was happening, Bridget opened her eyes. She was in her room, in half-light. Dr. Laverne Nance slept on an armchair next to the bed; to her right, a female figure stood out against the gray sky visible through the window.

What happened to me? Why am I here? She tried to remember. Her head hurt, and her body was heavy as lead. She tried rising, but the pain in her chest made her moan.

The woman at the window, startled, closed the curtain and approached her. At first she thought it was her mother, but she recognized her when she got closer.

"Brid, finally..." said Annie, stepping around the bed. "I'm so happy."

"Ann?" she mumbled hoarsely. Her sister was wearing bed clothes and her face was gaunt, with bags under her eyes.

"Shh... don't talk."

'And above all else, don't ask questions, please,' she added, but Bridget didn't see her move her lips. The lack of reaction from Nance told her he hadn't heard anything, so it must have been another one of her baffling hallucinations.