The Last Star of the Kingdom of Calpheon "Nova"

12 December 2020 08:00

 

"The Quturan only allows good children to enter the Promised Land.” 

  

Father, I heard the lullabies you sang of the days of a kingdom long gone

from within the sandstorms that tore you away from me.

It was about a Thornwood Tree that took in piteous children,

those born in the distant Arid Lands abandoned by the God of Light. 

 

“Every day, the children would offer up seven prayers to be chosen,

on the day of the brightest moon,

to be granted entry into the roots of the Quturan,

the only door set for the Promised Land.

But in times of war, they would head to the frontlines,

wielding the morning star and shield they had trained with.”

 

 

And when the burning sands swallowed you up without leaving a trace,

I saw a vision of children, sleeves wet with tears, seeking out the Thornwood Tree.

It comforted them, then consumed them whole.

 

In your final moments, you who were the entire world to me, 

why did I see visions of a kingdom beyond the grasp of my memories?

.

.

.

“The demon who buried her own father in the desert.”

“A monster with the blood of a hideous witch.”

 

 

The night I realized that their reverence and loyalty were callous lies,

I had a dream where I heard your words, that no throne remains untainted by blood.

Then I witnessed a lone woman seated, wrapped in the icy cold winds of winter, wearing the crown of Quturan, the Thornwood Tree.

Was that woman me? I could not tell.

 

And yet,

 

“Every day, the children would offer up seven prayers to be chosen,

on the day of the darkest moon,

to be granted exit out of the roots of Quturan,

the only door set for the Promised Land.

Hearing that they received the blessing of the goddess

who was cast aside from the Promised Land like themselves,

they came to shed a tear no more.

 

 

Father, while cleaning the depths of this castle filled with memories of you and I,

I heard the laughter of children abandoned by a kingdom long gone.

With the heart of a child seeking to enter the roots of Quturan,

and filled with joy of how the world had erased every trace of me,

I left the embrace of Elion, he who failed to protect you, and came to the Promised Land.

  

“O Sylvia, Mother of the Kamasylve.

The cold star shall rise once more,

over my kingdom of Calpheon.”

 

Now, with the power of the goddess distorted by life and death,

I will drench the lands with blood to reclaim what is rightfully mine,

For my name is Francesca Seric, the true heir to the throne of Calpheon.

 

I am the last eagle, reigning over the skies,

bearing the thorn of the tree that brought the earth to its knees,

for this forsaken world shall know my name forevermore

 

 

 

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