Emperor Zeno
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The first thing Philothea did when she realized she was face-to-face with her nemesis was burst out laughing.
Pouli, on the other hand, had a more aggressive reaction.
“You naughty thing!” he cried, shooting from Philothea’s shoulder and dive-bombing the emperor. Zeno raised his hand and caught the little bird as easily as if he were a ball.
“Pouli,” Zeno observed, his voice was cool and matter-of-fact. He was looking at the bird with a detached interest. “So that’s how she did it…”
“You are a bad boy, you naughty thing!” Pouli screeched. “Go back in your cage and go to sleep!”
He attacked Zeno’s fingers with his beak, trying to peck them apart. Unfortunately, the man’s grip wouldn’t budge. He handed the irate feather-ball to one of his guards and turned his attention back to the girls.
“Come here,” he said, motioning to Philothea.
When Philothea did not follow his orders, she felt the air around her constrict like a giant gripping hand. Then she stumbled toward her enemy as she was pulled along by the invisible force. As she moved forward, she slipped her own seal onto her finger. The feeling of power rippling through her body that had once alarmed her now came as a small comfort. She felt a little bit braver knowing she had her magic. If nothing else, she could protect Zoe.
When she was within arm’s reach of Zeno, the air dissipated, releasing her. She stumbled a little but caught herself before falling. With a nervous giggle, she looked up into Zeno’s eyes.
His face, now that she was seeing it up close, wasn’t unpleasant. He had soft blue eyes, light brown skin, and a roundish face. In fact, the way his beard and mustache were cut at hard angles seemed like an attempt to compensate for his otherwise gentle features.
As she looked up at him, she found herself praying that there had been some misunderstanding and he wasn’t the evil tyrant everyone described. It wasn’t only because she was afraid of him, but because she felt some sort of connection to him. He was, after all, the only other half-fae she knew.
“Give me your hand,” he ordered, slipping the seal off his finger.
Philothea thrust her hands behind her back and, glancing at the ring he held, shook her head.
“I won’t hurt you,” Zeno remarked.
“That’s a load of garbage,” Zoe commented while jogging up beside her friend.
Philothea stiffened as Zeno turned his cold gaze on Zoe. All of Raven’s training came back to her mind. What she wanted more than anything in the world was for Zoe to be safe.
A warrior to Zeno’s right stepped forward and said, “Is that any way to speak to your emperor?”
Zoe opened her mouth to answer, but before she had a chance, she vanished.
Philothea breathed a sigh of relief. If her magic had worked correctly, Zoe was now several days away from her, probably back at the waterfall near the fae kingdom.
It occurred to her that she could do the same with Pouli. Snapping her attention to the screeching feather ball in the soldier’s hand, she willed him away to Zoe.
Zeno’s men expressed mild surprise as Zoe and Pouli vanished in turn, but Zeno only smiled.
To the man on his right, he said, “I don’t think we even need to try the seal, General Clietus,” he shrugged. “Then again, why not?”
He held out his hand and motioned for Philothea to give him hers.
Philothea tensed, gripping one of the hands behind her back very tightly in the other.
“Obey your emperor,” General Clietus insisted.
“It’s alright, Clietus,” Zeno answered.
He reached out and, gripping Philothea’s arm, jerked her hand forward. Even without being an all-powerful warrior, half-fae, he was pretty strong.
He startled when he noticed the seal she was already wearing.
“Mommy’s ring,” he mumbled to himself.
Philothea stiffened, then she smiled as she tried to make sense of his words.
“No,” she blurted, while violently shaking her head. “This is my mother’s. The K is for Katina.”
“Of course,” Zeno laughed, pleasantly. “She’s my mother too.”
Philothea couldn’t make a sound.
“Why do you think I’ve been trying so hard to find you?” Zeno explained. “You’re family. You have nothing to fear from me.”
Philothea’s mind was flooded with thoughts, including but not limited to:
Safe with family? My own grandfather just tried to kill me!
And
Why do all my relatives want to kill me?
And
My brother! Eeeeeeee!
And
Wait, how is he my brother when he’s so old?
With all these thoughts simultaneously bombarding her brain, Philothea released a fresh tidal wave of giggles. A natural reaction for a girl who was confused, overwhelmed, and terrified.
“You laugh just like our mother,” Zeno smiled.
Philothea glanced up at him. If she had run into him without his army of brutes, he would have given her the impression of a kind and gentle man.
He couldn’t be as evil as everyone said, he couldn’t. But then… had everyone she met on her journey thus far been wrong? What about the people of Cedar Valley, who all looked so thin and sickly? What about the fae people in her grandfather’s kingdom who lived in terror of every half-fae on Zeno’s account? What about Zoe’s father and so many others in her own village who were forced to labor in Zeno’s fields?
As Philothea prayed for guidance, tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with her laughter. She was a mess and felt completely humiliated in the presence of the cool, controlled emperor.
“It’s alright,” Zeno said soothingly. “You don’t have to cry. Just give me Mother’s seal, and we will both go home.”
Philothea glanced around at Zeno’s men. They stood at attention watching their emperor, but Philothea recognized the fear in their eyes. It was the same fear in the eyes of the fae villagers, though hidden behind a mask of professional stoicism. These were his men, and they were living in fear. No. She couldn’t trust Zeno.
She ripped her hand out of his and violently shook her head.
Zeno’s gentle smile relaxed.
“Alright,” he shrugged.
In one swift motion, Zeno ripped his sword from its sheath and tried to bring it down on Philothea’s head. He might have been successful if it weren’t for a great force that tore her backward from his reach.
The force left Philothea lying on her back in a crumpled heap, her mind rushing to make sense of what just happened.
As she sat up and looked around, she noticed the landscape had changed. No longer was she standing before an army on the temple grounds. She was in the midst of a forest of thorny vines.
“Up, Thea.” Raven’s hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, he’ll be right behind us.”
“Where are we?” Philothea breathed.
“On the hill just outside the village. The thorns are a little illusion of mine; they won’t hurt you.”
As they ran in between the vines, great flames suddenly leapt up, consuming the thorny forest, withering it almost instantly. Philothea stumbled as Zeno appeared directly in their path. He stood alone, sword clasped in his hand.
“You think I don’t recognize an illusion when I see one?” he grinned at Raven. “You’ve got some talent, but you must realize you don’t stand a chance against me.”
The hills around them began to tremble, to crumble in on themselves. Rain poured down from the sky in sheets, but Philothea couldn’t feel it on her skin. Zeno spoke in the same calm, almost friendly voice he had used when he first introduced himself to Philothea. It was like he was projecting all his anger away from himself into the chaos around him.
“How about this,” he continued. “You surrender the girl, and I’ll let you go. Or better yet…” he added, a grin brightening his face. “I’ll give you a lesson in the art of illusion myself!”
“Or instead,” Raven replied. “You could show me a little mercy and just tell me all the different ways I’m ugly. It would be less insulting.”
The sarcasm emanating from Raven was as much an illusion as any of her others. Her tone was dry, her lips set in a slight frown, and she regarded Zeno’s grin with one eyebrow raised.
However, Philothea couldn’t help but notice how her hand trembled as it clasped her dagger’s hilt. Raven knew she was facing a foe she couldn’t defeat, but that did not stop her from drawing the blade and stepping in front of her student defensively.
“I want you to realize how absurd you’re being,” Zeno continued. “I can kill you with a mere thought, you know.”
“Then why haven’t you?” Raven dared.
“Because it wouldn’t be fair,” Zeno explained. “I’m not a monster. I don’t want to kill you.”
“Oh, I forgot, you only kill helpless little girls,” Raven remarked.
Zeno’s lips tightened very slightly.
“You’ve made your choice,” he sighed.
The ground opened up beneath them, and Philothea felt her stomach flop as she dropped down onto something soft. Was it grass? Everything around her was pitch black.
A warm hand grasped hers from somewhere in the darkness and pulled her to her feet.
“Don’t worry, little one,” came Raven’s voice. “This illusion is mine.”
Philothea stumbled along through the dark, hoping that Raven had some idea of where they were going. All the while her mentor was grumbling things like, “‘…give you a lesson in the art of illusion…’ I was doing illusions before he was born.”
They ran for a moment or two before Zeno’s cold voice spoke from somewhere in the darkness.
“The thing about illusions,” he said cheerily. “Is that they don’t actually change anything.”
At first, Philothea thought the voice was coming from her left somewhere, but with every word he uttered, it seemed to change positions. It was like he was in the air all around them.
“You are running up the hillside, east of Cedar Valley, toward the forest,” he continued. “It’s a large expanse, but… not so large that I can’t find you. Even in the dark.”
“Ignore him,” Raven hissed. “Keep moving.”
All at once, the darkness broke, and in the same moment, several things happened simultaneously. First, Philothea slammed her eyes shut to avoid being blinded by the late afternoon sun. Then, Zeno spoke from directly ahead.
“There you are.”
Philothea forced her eyes open to see him standing a mere arm’s length in front of her. All illusions were now broken, leaving them surrounded by the reality of the orange and green autumn hillside that rose up above the village of Cedar Valley. The roofs of the houses and the white towers of the temple were all plainly visible below.
Philothea, however, was blind to all of it, seeing only Raven’s crumpled form lying motionless in the grass behind Zeno. With a cry of horror, Philothea tried to dart past Zeno, but he caught her by the shoulder and held her fast.
A torrent of violent emotion flooded Philothea’s mind. She was in the clutches of an enemy who was, at any moment, going to kill her, but all she could think of was saving Raven.
If she could cure Princess Keti and the two fae guards she’d wounded, surely, she could undo whatever Zeno had done.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a glint of silver. Zeno was bringing down his blade. In the split second, as it fell, anger and frustration boiled inside her–Philothea wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. Not until she saved Raven.
At the very moment the emperor’s blade made contact with the back of her neck, Philothea willed a burst of power outward. Her powers combined a tsunami of emotion with a focused will to create a burst of energy that sent Zeno flying off his feet.
She did not even look to see where he landed. The moment he was gone, she fell to her mentor’s side. Raven had no breath or heartbeat that Philothea could find, but no visible injuries either. It was like Zeno had simply plucked the life out of her.
Yet, if there was any chance at all she had some life left, Philothea was going to find it. She laid a trembling hand on Raven’s forehead, then, through her tears, she focused and prayed.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zeno stumbling to his feet. He seemed puzzled, looking himself up and down as if trying to figure out what had happened. Then it must have clicked, because he stormed toward her, hand outstretched, and in that very same moment, Philothea felt a tightening on her throat.
He was using his magic to strangle her in the same way the fae guards had done. Now was not the time; she was so close to saving Raven. She looked up into the face of her approaching adversary.
His hair was disheveled, and he was a little muddy, but aside from that, he seemed unaffected by her outburst.
“I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy,” he laughed, as he tightened his invisible grip on her throat. “I forgot that you’re a half-fae too!”
Philothea fought against him as her frustration built. If he would just let her save Raven… Raven had to live. She resisted the grip of his will with her own, but her attention was divided–she was both healing Raven and trying to fight him off.
Despair welled up in her as she was crushed more tightly in his invisible grip. His powers raised her up off the ground, away from Raven’s side. Philothea fought against him with every ounce of her weakening power, thinking always of Raven. She had to protect Raven. Zeno’s gaze was locked on her and brimming with admiration.
“I’m glad I got to meet you,” he said pleasantly. “I’ve never met anyone close to my equal, and I doubt I ever will again.”
The force around Philothea constricted. She couldn’t breathe… it was almost over.
“Unfortunately,” Zeno sighed. “This world only has room for one god.”
Then, on the ground, Philothea noticed Raven stir. Another moment, if she could fight Zeno for another moment, then maybe Raven could escape…
“Wha-, whe- where is Mother?” Philothea gasped, trying to keep her enemy’s attention away from her mentor.
“At home,” Zeno explained, “I’m a good son. I take care of her.”
As he spoke, Philothea directed the last of her strength toward him, willing him to release his grip. He held fast.
“This would be easier for both of us if you’d just give up,” he laughed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but instead released a horrible cry and stumbled forward.
At once, the air around Philothea dissipated, and she fell down onto the grass, gasping for breath.
The next thing Philothea knew, Raven was pulling her to her feet.
“What happened?” Philothea gasped.
“I stabbed him in the back,” Raven shrugged. “Should keep him down for about two and a half seconds. Let’s move!”
Philothea didn’t have the strength to ask where they were going.
Right before Raven transported them both, Philothea glanced over her shoulder to see the emperor lying face down on the grass with a wound in his back that would have been lethal to any ordinary man. Unfortunately, Zeno didn’t fall into that particular category.
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