Prophet of the Gods

Chapter 2: The Staff

"Genevieve." Mother said it softly, almost pitifully. Gen raised her head slightly to see her mother standing in the doorframe and Mira peeking out from behind her. She turned over on the lumpy mattress and heard the dismal creak of her bed. 

The palace probably had better mattresses. They were probably stuffed with swan feathers and plumped by maids every single morning for the frail, delicate backs of stupid royals.

Genevieve was stuck, plagued with thoughts she never thought she'd have to think about. The soldiers left soon after they dropped the news of Gen's acceptance. Her acceptance to something she definitely didn't apply to. The train for the palace left in two days.

She wouldn't be on it.

She couldn't be the Royal Prophet. It was ridiculous. She thought her parents and Mira would agree with her but...

"I only want you to think about it," said Mother, stepping inside.

For Gods' sake. Gen sighed, "I can't. I can't go Mother. I can't leave you guys. I can't believe you don't see that."

"We'll be fine Gen," said Mother, coming to sit on the side of their bed. Mira followed shyly. "This is an amazing opportunity- I can't believe you don't see that."

"I know it is," she said, grumbling. She sat up in bed. "But Mother, there's one teeny tiny flaw in your big plan: my curse! Or have you forgotten?"

"Exactly!" said Mother. "Honey, this is your chance." Your chance.

Mother, Father, and Celeste had looked for a cure to her curse for years and years before stumbling upon an old, falling-apart book titled The Immortals Manifesto, hidden in the depths of the town library. It was a book about the Gods, specifically about the staff created with the wood from the Immortals Tree and bonded together with the golden ichor of the Gods. It was the most powerful artifact from the Ancient Times. It was given to the first king of Olumia when he was coronated as a gift from the Gods.

However, a century ago it was almost stolen. And a few decades later, a corrupt king almost used it for evil. After that it was clear that the staff was too precious and too dangerous to be in the hands of mortals, since all mortals were tainted by greed. It was hidden by the Lysterian monks and a map was created to its location. A map that resided in the most secure, most heavily guarded portion of the Olumian palace.

It unfortunately was the only cure to her curse. Except she had no way of getting to it, not without begging to the king for mercy. But he wouldn't help her. King Alastair wasn't exactly known for his generosity and consideration. He'd kill her. There was nothing they could do. Genevieve's fate was doomed from the start.

Until now.

"It'll be impossible to get that map Mother," she snapped. "You know that."

She sighed, "What I know is that my poor daughter will either destroy the kingdom or die-" her voice cracked. "And it's all my fault."

Genevieve almost felt bad. "Mother-"

Mother silenced her, "The only hope is that map. I don't care if it's impossible to get. We have to try, Gen. This is the only option. You've been presented with an opportunity- a stroke of luck. Maybe there's still some more luck waiting for you at the palace, but we have to try."

Genevieve was silent.

"Mother," said Mira softly. She was tugging on her hair, some of which had come loose in the last hour. "Tell her about the crops."

Mother shook her head, but Genevieve stilled. "What do you mean about the crops?" her voice was laced with concern.

"It's not important," assured Mother, shooting a glance at Mira.