A Brief Family Reunion
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King Cyrus sent criers out to every corner of the village and had them read aloud the prophecy. He had it recited in his halls and fields, and everywhere a listening ear waited. And with the news of the prophecy, he proudly proclaimed his daughter’s return.
What Philothea wanted, more than anything, was to sit down with her father for a long time and talk. Unfortunately, with Zeno’s looming arrival, they were forced to give each other only brief summaries of their fifteen years apart.
They did not get a chance for a long heart-to-heart until the evening of their first full day together. At Raven’s insistence, Philothea spent every moment from dawn until dusk training with her father’s army. They staged battle after battle. Philothea stood up on the castle wall, trying to keep the two sides from clashing below. As she suspected, protecting real people was a lot harder than protecting illusions. Especially Dave, whose enthusiasm always gave him the strength to break free from the grip of Philothea’s magic and charge into enemy lines.
When sunset put an end to her trials, Philothea flopped down with her back to one of the battlements. Her father, who had been watching her practice, came and flopped down beside her directly on the walkway. The sight of the old king, sitting cross-legged with his back to a wall like a little boy, made her giggle.
“You laugh just like your mother,” he smiled.
Philothea’s smile faded as she remembered Zeno telling her exactly the same thing.
“She’ll be so proud of you,” Cyrus continued. “You’re everything we hoped you would be.”
Philothea looked at him questioningly. “Will you tell me… well, tell me everything?”
“You know some of it already,” Cyrus mentioned.
“Pretend that I don’t,” she pressed. “I want you to tell me.”
The king sighed. The sadness that always seemed to linger in his eyes deepened. He opened his mouth to speak, but a long moment passed before he could find the words he needed.
“Everything that happened to you is my fault,” he confessed. “Actually, everything that happened to Zeno and his victims is my fault.”
Philothea looked up at him, studying his kindly face, his weary, sorrowful eyes… She couldn’t imagine any of this was his fault.
“When Zeno was a boy, your mother and I were so amazed by his powers… There were rumors, legends really, about the powers of half-fae children. But we didn’t believe any of it until we had a child of our own. And then we were so proud and amazed… We hired the best teachers to develop his skills. We praised him and boasted about him constantly. We made him the very center of our world.” The king winced. “It was no wonder he decided he belonged in the center of everyone else’s.”
A sadness swelled up inside Philothea when she heard the pain in her father’s voice.
“By the time I realized what he was becoming, it was too late,” the king continued. “He left us to build his empire–your mother and I couldn’t stop him.”
He glanced sideways at her affectionately.
“When you were born, we realized you must be the girl from the prophecy. We needed to hide you so you could fulfill it, but we also wanted to be sure you wouldn’t grow up to be a tyrant yourself. While you were still a vulnerable newborn, your mother was able to use her own magic to suppress yours. Then she enchanted Pouli and sent him away to hide you among the keepers.”
Cyrus bit his lip. “The seal that Pouli gave you, your mother’s seal, was a key designed to unlock your abilities when you had grown. By then, we hoped, the Keepers would have taught you what we failed to teach Zeno: that you are not God.”
Philothea felt a lump in her throat. The missing pieces of her story were falling into place, which brought her a strange combination of relief and sadness.
“Of course, Zeno was furious when he found you missing,” Cyrus sighed. “He took your mother away, hoping she would give up your location.” The king’s gaze dropped. “Me, he left to live as a helpless puppet king.”
Philothea could feel the king’s sadness infecting her own heart. Not only had he spent the last fifteen years grieving a missing wife and daughter, but he was grieving the loss of his son. Philothea’s return had brought him some comfort, and they would rescue her mother soon enough, but what of his son? What of Zeno?
Philothea’s heart ached. Only God could rescue him.
She leaned her head on her father’s shoulder, and for a long time, they sat together looking out at the starlit sky in silence.
The second day was spent as the first. Although Philothea was exhausted and sore, she was encouraged to see her skill improving. Trapping opponents in her magic was becoming easier every minute. Dave only managed to escape once during the entire day. It made Philothea grumble to herself. When this whole affair was over, she decided she was going to give him a stern talking-to.
After dusk, Philothea’s party assembled for dinner in the great hall. Her father’s hall seated not only his courtiers but an entire flock of starlings. They sat on branches that had been attached to the walls.
She grinned as she watched the lively birds fluttering around, chattering with each other. Unfortunately, Pouli wasn’t among them because Raven had sent the little bird away with a message shortly after their arrival.
“I always thought they were horrible pests,” Cyrus explained to Philothea. “When I brought your mother here, she couldn’t believe we were trying to get rid of them. She insisted we add these branches for them and within a few weeks, she had the whole flock tamed.”
Thinking of her mother helped bring Philothea hope, even as war loomed. Her father’s stories made her feel like she knew exactly who her mother was. A strong, fun-loving, and adventurous woman. Philothea remembered the little fae Princess Keti. Her mother was probably like an older version of Keti.
“We have starlings at the Temple of Creation,” Philothea giggled. “The Keepers hate them! I didn’t know you could teach them to talk. I mean, I didn’t before I met Pouli.”
“Yeah, you can’t teach them to stop talking, though,” Zoe commented.
This made Cyrus break into a broad grin. It warmed Philothea’s heart to see his sadness driven away by a moment of levity.
Philothea opened her mouth to rebuke Zoe but stopped. She was suddenly aware of a peculiar feeling–an icy tingling on the back of her neck. She looked toward Raven, who replied with a grave little nod. She felt it too.
A chill swirled through the hall, and the doors at the far end burst open.
“Hi, Dad,” came a familiar voice.
Cyrus leapt to his feet and stood staring toward the door, his face ashen.
Philothea recognized Zeno’s silhouette in the open portal. All the occupants of the hall fell silent as he strolled in, drinking in their terrified expressions.
“Stand down, Zeno,” Cyrus ordered. Philothea noticed his hands trembling.
“Is that any way to speak to your emperor?” Zeno demanded.
“You’re not my emperor,” Cyrus replied. “You’re a tyrant, Zeno.”
His son ignored this remark and instead let his gaze fall on Philothea.
“You know why I’ve come, Dad, don’t you?”
“You will not touch her,” Cyrus answered.
Zeno’s cold eyes flickered over to his father. “Give her to me, or I will take her.”
Now it was Raven’s turn to leap to her feet.
“Try it!” she dared.
When Zeno moved his gaze to Raven, a fury flickered in his eyes.
“You stabbed me in the back,” he stated with cool detachment.
“Did I?” Raven shrugged. “Oops.”
At once, Philothea encircled Raven with an invisible shield of protection. And not a moment too soon, she felt Zeno’s magic collide with her own. It was the same spell he’d used on Raven before, the one that seemed to leave her lifeless on the grass.
She felt Zeno’s magic dissipate against her own. Raven stood within her shield of protection, grinning defiantly.
Philothea felt herself shaking and prayed for the grace to keep calm. She needed to show the people in her father’s court that she was equal to Zeno in power. That they didn’t have to be afraid of him anymore.
A flicker of frustration and confusion entered the emperor’s expression.
The room was deadly still. Relief washed over Philothea as she realized she wasn’t laughing. After all, now was probably the most inappropriate moment in the wor–
With that realization, she felt a tickling in her stomach and chomped down on her lower lip.
Help me not to laugh. Help me not to laugh. She prayed, but the harder she prayed, the more the tickling sensation grew.
Zeno, meanwhile, began spinning up a great fire. The flames leapt up and swirled around him. Philothea could feel their heat as they grew. In a moment, he launched the flames outward in all directions across the hall. They might have incinerated everyone, but Philothea countered by dissipating the flames the moment Zeno released them.
Zeno’s confused expression was too much for Philothea. She burst out laughing. Before she could mentally rebuke herself for the inappropriate outburst, the other occupants of the room, the guards and servants, started laughing with her. Raven laughed hardest of everyone–wild and triumphant.
Zeno’s calm facade began to crumble as he looked at the mocking faces of the people he tried to destroy.
“Funny boy!” one of the starlings chirped. Then all the others joined in, crying “You funny boy!” and mimicking the various laughs of the diners.
Zeno, wicked, emperor cruel,
Is nothing but a helpless fool!
One of the birds sang.
Another immediately added:
Princess sweet, she will defend,
And bring about poor Zeno’s end.
Then the starlings all started laughing and chattering and adding to the song. Everyone else in the room, the servants, courtiers, and guards, continued laughing and mocking Zeno. Daring him to try another attack.
Zeno straightened up, attempting to collect his dignity. Though the calm had returned to his demeanor, a wild fury burned in his eyes.
“I spared you, Cyrus,” he said. “Even when you betrayed me, I spared you because you are my father.”
Cyrus, the only stoic person in the room, said: “You’ve heard the prophecy, Zeno. You know you can’t win this.”
“No more mercy,” Zeno answered, ignoring his father’s statement. “By dawn this kingdom will be ash.”
As he turned toward the door, he glanced at Philothea and hissed, “Silly girl,” under his breath, then stormed out.
“That’s right!” Raven called after him. “Go and cower behind your army!”
The room roared with laughter once again as an invisible force slammed the door shut behind him.
Dave, who was on guard next to the doors, raised his oversized spear aloft and cried out, “Down with Zeno! Long live Princess Zo-Philothea!”
Zoe, who had somehow maintained a straight face through the entire thing, tapped her thumbs together and said, “So… I am slightly worried about that ‘this kingdom will be ash’ thing.”
Raven smirked. “I’m not.”
Philothea, for her part, was terrified.
The Fables of Para Sympan 