Binarius (2 page)

In hindsight, she
had
seen all of the
warning signs. Hints and whispers that dark intentions and selfish
ambitions were at play. Yet, she loved them dearly — desperately,
with every ounce of her being — the spectralin of her soul which
now seemed tainted. She would have given them everything and this
is where her thoughts became a mirror. She was forced, against her
will, and now she was staring herself right in the face.

The guilt of what her ignorance had
cost her Queendom, her family, and her people, was almost too much
to bear. Legs shaking from the weight of it all, heart racing like
the drums of war — the shame — to exist in her vessel — she pressed
forward; alone and broken. If she stopped here, there would be
nothing that she had left on these lands but a bloodbath — human
blood — and the blood of betrayal.

CHAPTER TWO

A Spite That Burns

A Few Days
Earlier

Firinne was sitting in her room
staring out of the window. She could smell the spring in the air
that lightly brushed across her neck. The past few weeks felt more
like missing time to her, and she was looking forward to getting
back to things that she had neglected. Triphosa had done her more
than a favor; she had probably saved Firinne. Since the current
wave of frequency had taken hold of Fia, Firinne found herself
struggling more than ever before.

It happened one night after
evening’s feast; Firinne collapsed on her way to her chambers,
falling down a few of the stairs. Thankfully, nothing was broken,
although maybe a piece of Firinne’s inner-workings. She had been
taken to her chambers and put in bed immediately. Auralia was
desperate to help her daughter but she was too overwhelmed with
everything that needed tending at Citrine. So, Triphosa
volunteered.

For hours and hours, Triphosa put
her hands on Firinne; summoning her energy to heal Firinne. It was
as if Firinne had been paralyzed by something. When she thought
back on it, it all seemed so fictional. She had no control over it
and thought after thought, came racing through her head. Every fear
she could have ever imagined came flooding into her mind;
paralyzing her. She was too afraid to move; too afraid to breath.
She screamed out in horror and every time that she did, Triphosa
was there using her spectralin to try to counteract the effects of
the frequencies that were attacking Firinne.

After a week of this, Firinne
slowly started regaining control of her mind. That was three days
ago, and when Firinne thought about that time, it was as if she
hadn’t really been there at all. It was like being locked away in a
room of your own mind, and having someone tell you what was going
on while you waited in there. She remembered that she felt as
though she might go mad from being locked in that room; the one
that overlooked a town that was unrecognizable to her; a town of
gray.

Firinne stood and walked over to
the small desk that sat in the corner of her chambers. She began
writing to her Uncle Bricius to ask if he would attend her birthday
celebration. She knew her Uncle was busy, always traveling, and
therefore, knew that her letter was probably a waste of time.
Bricius was a well known leader of the Aldithenih faith — Firinne
despised it. She could never understand her Uncle’s rationale for
believing in (what she thought) was a faith so poisonous. It must
be such a miserable life following a faith that condemns the
smallest of mistakes with illusory threats of immortal
agony.

Firinne often wondered how
morally
good
these people of the faith would be if there was not such a
horrible consequence lurking behind their every step through life.
If eternal damnation was revealed to be a falsehood, then how many
followers would take to the towns intent on acts of evil? True
morality, she thought, was being a good person because you are an
empathetic person, and not because you are afraid of the fate of
your afterlife.

The faith of Aldithenih enraged
her. She saw right through it. The faith had begun when the Mist of
Blacken had arrived. Its basic premise was the belief that there is
an all knowing being that created Fia, and if the people of Fia do
not follow the Aldithenih virtues, they will be condemned to an
eternity of torment. Firinne had no proof, but she knew the
darkness was behind this, and it was just one of the many ways —
manipulate and control.

Weakened and enslaved by fear, the
people had forgotten their ways, the old ways.

Cyneric came into their chamber. He
had barely glanced in her direction in the past three days of which
he had been back at Citrine. She tried to ignore the guilt and
secrecy that she felt emanating from him; so much secrecy locked up
inside of him, he was full. Firinne could visualize all of it
seeping out of the pores of his skin — wet and black like the
thick, liquid the Desideriums siphoned from Fia.

“
Have you found a pretty little
mistress who consumes your thoughts?” She was never good at hiding
her feelings.

Cyneric stopped, with his broad
shoulders facing her. Her eyes traced his pronounced silhouette
down to his fists that were clenched so tightly, she could almost
see the blood boiling in his palms. “You make up such fantasies.
They must bring excitement into your dull life!” He took a drink
from his flask.

“
You know you’re not supposed to
have that in Citrine. Get rid of it.”

“
Don’t worry,
your
majesty
, I’m leaving.”

He then grabbed his sword, which
was leaning against the far wall, and walked away, making sure to
slam the door behind him so hard that Firinne was certain that he
would pull the door clean off of the hinges.

This behavior had been going on for
nearly a year now. She had known Cyneric for fifteen years, but
something had happened. He was changed. Last Samhain, he began
taking undisclosed travels, sometimes he was gone for weeks at a
time. She had no way of contacting him while he was away. She was
achingly in love with him, more than she ever thought she could
love a person. When he was away, her whole body hurt as if it would
cave in on itself if he did not embrace her soon. Now, when he
returned, he barely spoke to her.

It was as if a part of himself that
he had been preparing to unleash had been activated. At this point,
the only thing that Firinne was holding onto was the person she
knew him to be or thought she knew — but even the vivid memories of
the past were beginning to fade. She felt like she would soon
forget who that man was that she fell in love with, or more
accurately, where the little boy she loved and had grown up with
had gone. Doubt was beginning to plague her and the waters of spite
were nearly boiling over.

Firinne hardly had time to think
about it. She remembered that her Mum needed to speak with her —
something about the food. She walked out of her chamber, following
the stairs down to the cellar of the castle. The wooden door was
warped and decayed, so she had to push on it hard to move it past
the stones that were scraping the top seam of the doorway. Her
mother, Auralia, was standing in the room, towards the boxes of
spectral food which were stacked up against the wall. She looked
dismayed. Her curly, auburn hair was held up by a carved piece of
Birch that Firinne had made for her during the summer
solstice.

“
There won’t be enough...” Auralia
said.

“
Are you sure? I thought that the
last harvest would get the Queendom through to Mabon.”

“
Yes, I’m sure. We will be lucky
if this lasts until Yule. We will survive, but our people will not.
Something has to be done. The indoor gardens will need serious
attention.” She put her hand on Firinne’s shoulder. “Take some of
the young ones to the gardens to work the soil, would
you?”

“
Okay. I was thinking that we
could also plant some more seeds while we are there. If enough
spectralin is given to them, they might start bearing fruit just in
time.” Firinne said.

“
I was going to talk to you about
that as well. We need to send someone to the mountains to meet with
The Guardian for seeds, we’re low. I don’t know how much longer we
will be able to keep this going…our Queendom I mean.” Her face was
speckled with freckles and age.

Auralia kissed her daughter on the
forehead and left through the warped, wooden door. Firinne could
feel her mother’s weakness, and knew that she was probably
rationing her intake of spectralin food.

She went to the Academy to gather
the children from their classes and explained to the Magister that
the children were needed in the gardens to assist. Magister Lirveen
didn’t protest, as he knew that it would be good practice for his
students.

Imphius Lirveen was a small,
scruffy old man. He had a full beard, and a full belly to match,
which felt like a round stone pressing into your stomach whenever
he hugged you. He was the head magister at the Citrine Academy of
Artistry and Spectralin Sciences, which he was immensely proud of.
Teaching children had always been his lifelong passion and he was a
grand asset to the Queendom.

Imphius was also a light-hearted,
practical joker. One of the most popular of his jokes was that he
would collect items that had been left behind by the students, wrap
them up beautifully in a box, and gift them to the students on
their final year of academy. The students would be completely
perplexed, wondering how they were supposed to react, as most of
the time, they had forgotten all about the item left behind from
the years that had passed.

Once in the gardens, the children
began working right away. They were all turning the dirt in their
hands, humming, and speaking to the plants. From every child, there
was a green aura looming like a mist between the child and the
plant. Firinne could almost
see
the children's thoughts in her own mind —
intentions of love and strength to the plants; thankfulness for
what the plants provided the Queendom, gratitude for keeping all of
them strong, and thereby safe from the Desideriums.

Everyone in the Queendom knew that
if they were left to only eat the food distributed by the
Desideriums, they would lose their spectralin which would give the
Mist of Blacken more psychic control over them. It would be easier
for them to penetrate their thoughts and manipulate their emotions.
Firinne knew that eventually they would suspect something, they
would see or feel the Queendom’s strength, and battle or
infiltration would ensue. But they could not worry themselves over
that now — it was their only hope for survival. Fia needed them to
live.

The children had begun planting the
seeds and with the shared spectralin, they were now sprouting out
of the ground. They were growing within seconds of being planted;
winding up, out of the soil where leaves would begin unfolding
themselves, like Flutters out of a cocoon. The children gathered up
all of the fruits and seeds from the elder plants and put them into
baskets. One by one, down to the kitchens, where the cooks would
sort the fruits, start preserves, and package the seeds to be
stored in the cellar. Firinne knew that the shortage of seeds was
concerning, but it was hard to be certain which seeds contained
high or low spectralin. The seeds which produced plants of lower
spectralin would give little to no fruit or seed. All of the fear,
hate, anger, and egos, was draining the life from their world. The
more the Desideriums were ordered to push, the more people would
fear, and the more the darkness would conquer.

The nighttime stories that her Mum
had told her were engrained into her at such an early age that
Firinne felt as if she had actually been there to see it all for
herself.

The lands of Fia were once a
peaceful place where the ancestor of old, taught the new
generations the secrets of the cosmos. No one is certain who gave
them the great wisdom, and if The Clandestine Guardians were asked,
they would simply reply,
The Ethereal
Collective
. They taught the generations
how to access their inner spectralin.

The people of this land were once
a powerful people, a people who lived empathetically with Fia, and
one another. Then, the Mist of Blacken came. At first it was only
noticed as a slight discoloration in the skies. After that, it came
in like a fog, heavy blackness with a low, rumbling vibration. To
this day, no one knows who sent the Mist of Blacken or who is
controlling it, but it was known that if the Mist brought to the
lands a vibrational frequency opposite of Fia’s, that Fia would be
in danger. Fia is a living, breathing being just like humans. It is
our job to protect her so that she can protect us. Balance,
vibration, spectralin, empathy.

The Mist of Blacken settled above
one of the lands, where an obsidian castle was built overnight. It
has swirled relentlessly above Castle Blacken for over a decade
now. Back in those ages, the Mist almost succeeded in spectral
manipulation of the people of Fia. Through spectral manipulation,
the Mist gains access to the mind and modifies the essence of the
soul to create an illusion of existence. The people who were
affected by this manipulation — they were endlessly afraid, locked
in a state of panic — forever stuck in a frequency ensuring their
inner imprisonment.