Crystal Palace: The Coming Storm

A poet or a devil might have enjoyed this storm, but I am neither.

My thoughts wander instead to those who must suffer its terrible wrath. Farmers losing their crops. Villagers losing their homes. Shepherds losing their flocks.

Seeds can of course be replanted. Houses rebuilt. Lost sheep found. But there is something else out there. Something unexpected. Something much more dangerous.

I have been dreading it since I watched the Valley Guard withdraw from its mountain posts just two days ago. I stood at this very balcony, perched among the high towers of the Crystal Palace, observing each unit of fifteen soldiers approach the palace stables before disbanding, unaware that the mountain posts each left vacant would not be refilled.

As I waited for all of the units to return, I took in the wondrous view of Khyrah, perhaps for one of the last times. Khyrah is a valley nestled in the highest mountains of the western world, occupied by a small kingdom bearing the same name. Pristine and majestic, it is surrounded on all sides by the Metzada, peaks so tall and treacherous that they isolate and fortify Khyrah from the other much larger kingdoms of the West.

I also reflected on my life and memories. When the king appointed me to the Citadel Guard, he brought me up here.

You know the myths, Alec, he said, gesturing toward the mountains. These fortress walls of rock and earth were raised up by the heavens themselves to protect this valley. But the gods only do so much. Keeping this kingdom safe is your burden to bear.

The Citadel Guard is no normal order. On that day I became its only living member. Before the Kingdom of Khyrah was established nearly five centuries ago, this Crystal Palace was the only structure in the valley.

A High Priest and his disciples, along with their families, resided within what was then not a palace but a holy citadel. A place of pilgrimage where believers traveled for guidance and comfort, and to escape the cruel and unforgiving world to find peace. The Citadel Guard was divinely appointed and protected all who entered.

One day, an army from the coast invaded to possess the land, and most of the disciples and the Citadel Guard mysteriously fled. The High Priest, alongside the one Citadel Guard who had remained by his side, spoke with the king of that army and somehow shamed him for defiling such a sacred and peaceful place, so the king turned around his soldiers, leaving his captains behind to protect the High Priest as a token of penitence. Those captains became the first Valley Guard. The High Priest then crowned himself King of Khyrah, naming the last Citadel Guard as High Captain of the Valley Guard, the office to which I was appointed.

Do you really believe those old tales? I asked my king.

He paused before answering. His wife, the woman I came to call Mother, had recently died giving birth to their only child, Princess Adria of Khyrah, ensuring that I would never become king. Before that tragedy, the king had drifted far from the old ways, perhaps further than any king or queen before him. I could tell Adria’s birth was already changing him.

I’m starting to, was all he would admit in a humble tone.

He then left me alone to contemplate my responsibilities. I gazed out at the valley. The great Mirror Lake at its center glistened in the sunlight, reflecting a breathtaking image of mountains that stretched into the distance.

I needed to ensure that the beauty of this place would never fade, so in the eighteen years after my appointment, I bolstered the Valley Guard. What once was a small band of hundreds became an elite guard of thousands, with all other able men of the kingdom at least being trained as reserves. The king and I knew of the shadow growing in the East. I set out to prepare us for whatever horror came of it.

The nobles, the influential and wealthy families descending from the first Valley Guard, challenged me at every turn since my ambitions required their money. They didn’t sense the urgency that I did, though I was never very tactful with them. One time, their complaints became so sour that the king brought me up here to discuss scaling back.

I realize that with the Eastern Empire now becoming more and more involved in the Northern Kingdom, you are growing uneasy, he said, not looking at me but instead staring across the valley, but we can only do so much. The hands of the divine must take care of the rest. You have done your best. Let it be enough.

His request concerned my designs to build a device in the peaks of the Flotdalle, the large mountain pass on the west side of Khyrah. The device would be a trap, a last line of defense against invasion. But it would be costly to build, and in my frustration I had said some things to a nobleman that I shouldn’t have, prompting the king to speak with me.

Long ago, you told me that the gods would only do so much, I reminded him. That the rest was on my shoulders. What has changed since then?

He didn’t answer for a long moment. He instead studied me, preparing to speak in just the right way to convince me that I was wrong, the same way he so often did with Adria, but he would rarely use such a tactic with me.

Nothing, he calmly conceded. But at some point, no matter how hard we try, we have to accept that an element of fate, of destiny, cannot be escaped. With all the things your explorers found in the Metzada, even you have to see that something special protects us.

Unlike him, I couldn’t believe in the old ways. Having grown up in a war-torn desert far to the east, I struggled with ideas of gods or divine hands, but he was right that we had discovered something spectacular in those mountains. In the last few years, I had commissioned a number of explorers to map out the Metzada, something that previously had only been done haphazardly, and was amazed at what we together had found.

We discovered an elaborate labyrinth of tunnels and endless rivers and lakes beneath the mountains. As we went deeper and deeper, we found that these caverns hid not just natural beauty, but also extraordinary and terrifying beasts. Beasts that I couldn’t help but think were not of this world.

The mystique also extended into our journey above the surface. The glacier-covered peaks and mountain walls acted like crystals, reflecting light in every direction down the steep mountain slopes. With such devices, the mountains toyed with us. It was hard to track the time of day or keep locations or directions straight.

The peaks in some places were so high and the passes so narrow that we were unable to judge direction and were at the mercy of the maze we found ourselves in. The caves and passes connecting the mountains were so complex that everything looked both the same and different. As the sun moved across the sky, the light changed so much that we could wander for hours in the same area and believe we had travelled a great distance.

I didn’t respond to the king’s plea. I was still angry from my argument with the noble. To my surprise, the king went on to yield to my desire, though with a condition.

Build your device, Alec. I’ll pacify the nobles. You’re like the thorns of a rose. An underappreciated protector. Someday, they will admire you as I do. But let this be the end of it. The time of preparation is over.

I thought on such conversations he and I had shared over and over again throughout the afternoon until, finally, the last unit of the Valley Guard came into view, led by my highest captain and dear friend Hershon.

One, two, and then a dozen horses emerged from the western hills. Dark clouds and lightning trailed further behind, rain and hail nipping at the soldiers’ heels. The sun that still stood above me lit up the top of the clouds with a brilliant whiteness.

But beneath that blanket of warmth and light, I could already sense the cold and darkness rushing toward us. The storm hadn’t yet reached the palace, but the wind preceding it was so strong that I could barely stand. Its icy touch pierced to my bones.

The soldiers entered the palace stables drenched and exhausted, yet still greeted me warmly as I descended the many palace steps to welcome them. They spoke of hail the size of a man’s fist and wind so fierce that tents were either ripped apart or taken off the cliffs entirely.

Despite all their enthusiasm, I was unusually bland and distant, weighed down by the things only I knew. Hershon, who to me is as much a brother as he is anything else, seemed to sense this. Without any hesitation, he embraced me and turned to his men.

You inconsiderate dogs have left the stable door open, and a breeze has frozen our High Captain’s velvet skin! A drink to the man who fetches him a blanket!

The men erupted into laughter. I would have expected nothing less. I soon found myself covered in the coats and horse blankets of the kingdom’s best men and could not help but give Hershon the grin he sought.

That was only a temporary reprieve from the storm whirling around this kingdom. And inside of me. For two days, rain and lightning have raged. Only this morning has it cleared up just enough that I can faintly see across the valley and through the mist from the balcony. And good thing.

Precious seconds pass as I wait, my eyes fixed on the horizon. Suddenly, a chill runs to my heart as I see something in the distance. It is hard to be sure at first, but now it is clear. Smoke rises from the forest on the south end of the valley. It is thick and black, not to be confused with the storm clouds or the fog. That is the sign.

I begin to tremble but try to steady myself. The only guiding words that come to mind are ones the king once shared with me.

We are all slaves to the devils and angels within. Our only difficult choice is deciding which ones we will have as masters. After that, life is beautifully simple, even when both sides might tell us to do the same thing.

These words are of little comfort, though. I have made my choices, but no simplicity has followed. And there is no going back now. The course has been set. I wish it was not so. That I would have had more time to find another way. But time has run out. To have chosen another path would have only delayed the inevitable.

I fear the consequences of my actions and how they will burn into my soul. I am no slave to a devil, though I suppose a devil would have done the same. But it would not have to be begged. Begged because the future is uncertain and this could all be for nothing. Begged because the only certainty remaining is the hardest part. The one last thing that I must do.

To go and tell the king that the real storm has just begun.

Chapter One – Adria

Put it down!

Alec just stands there and ignores me.

I said put it down!

Fine, Adria he relents, delicately placing the necklace back on its stand. Of course he has to make that face while he does it. That face like I’m being an overly dramatic little girl. I’m not little anymore. Tomorrow I’ll be eighteen. And even if I were a little girl, he knows how much my mother’s necklace means to me.

I just don’t know why you’re so insistent on no one touching it. Why are you the one who gets to decide what happens with her things?

Because I’m the princess, that’s why, I tease, giving him a smile. One he hates because he can tell it’s fake even when no one else can. I only use it on him to get under his skin, to which he always responds with his own.

Don’t give me that smirk, I say. You know the real reason. I get it, it’s dumb, but for whatever reason it feels like she’s around when I have this with me. I don’t want anyone touching it or doing anything to make it lose its magic. You can have father’s swords, shields, and all that war stuff you seem to like so much, but when I become queen someday, I’m going to have it with me wherever I go.

He looks at me unconvinced. I realize that I can be overly dramatic at times. I think he assumes that this is one of those things I say but don’t really mean to get what I want, but this is different.

Maybe she wouldn’t have wanted her only daughter to be so stubborn. She would be laughing if she were here to see you act like this.

That’s it. He’s dead. Not pretend dead like every other time. Real dead. A line was crossed. Our longstanding truce broken. It’s kind of a relief, though, to end the debate in my head. I mean, he is my only brother. I’d considered letting him live before.

But even with that burden removed, a more difficult question looms. How to do it? Poison in his favorite soup? No, it lacks my personal touch. I can’t pretend to cook. Serpent in his bed? It’s definitely more me, but it would be too quick. His suffering needs to drag on a bit before the merciful end comes. Trap door leading to a pit of giant lizards? That’s more like it.

I’ve read about them in the new books from the East. If they’re as big as the reading says, they should have no problem finishing him off. Slowly. They take their time. Breaking bones. Taking deep bites. They don’t kill for a while. They enjoy the sport.

There’d be a note for him, of course, letting him know that it was me. That I got the last laugh. He’d have plenty of time to read it. It would be necessary. With his reputation, I have no doubt he has a few enemies here and among the other kingdoms. Don’t want someone else getting credit for my work.

But those lizards are from the desert. I would have to wait forever for them to get here. I don’t have that kind of time or patience, so I’ll just strangle him now.

I wait at least until his back is turned. A few light steps and I pounce, catching him completely off guard. I learned this particular move from him. I place one arm around his neck and use the other one to give me leverage. He lets out a grunt as I start laughing.

She’ll think it’s real funny when she sees her big, strong boy get beat up and choked to death by an itty-bitty princess!

Quickly, he regains his balance and is just about to throw me over his shoulders when Father walks in.

She’d be laughing at both of you.

Without any hesitation, Alec is lovingly swinging me around, gently setting me down with a big kiss on the cheek. We put our smiles back on.

Thank you for the advice, big brother.

We have done this dance a thousand times before. Father pretends not to notice.

Now that’s a loving family. No deceit, just peace and tranquility. Exactly what your mother would want to see. Especially the night before your big day. Just imagine all the boys wanting to line up for a girl who can make a man feel as warm as the sun itself just seconds before slipping something sharp in the space between his ribs. And in such a beautiful dress!

Alec grins, but I do not. Father’s words sound differently to me than to him. Or anyone else for that matter. They always have. I notice not his attempt at humor, but instead the slight sharpness in his voice. With his lecturing and all our arguments over how he expects me to act and think and feel, I can’t help but wonder what he’s actually saying.

He’s like a codex, really. Not a simple one, either, like those books with numbers and letters that have to be deciphered using a specific set of rules. Father’s book would be easy to read with a clear and meaningful message, one that veils the true message hidden in plain sight.

Alec thinks he has him figured out. Maybe he does. Maybe that’s why Father gets along better with him, his adopted son, than with me, his actual daughter, but I’m not completely sure. The way he gets frustrated with Father at times suggests that he’s not quite there yet. I see Father poured over old texts in the palace archives and libraries. Even Alec doesn’t know what he’s up to half of the time.

Still, I often find myself envying the relationships Father seems to have with everyone but me. Alec, the palace staff, the Valley Guard, the nobles, and even the average person on the street seem to get along with him better than I do.

Perhaps I’m being melodramatic. Father and I have our moments of closeness, too, but when things get heated between us, it feels like I’m not what he wants me to be, which really hurts. Even if those feelings are irrational, feelings can be so much more powerful than reason.

Father slowly walks over to the window at the far side of the room. Each step seems so thoughtful, as though he is just finishing putting together exactly what he is going to tell me and how he is going to say it. He seems to have it in his mind that if he tells me something the exact right way, I’ll agree with it no matter how much I don’t like it. To be fair to him, I don’t make the situation any better by doing everything I can to distract him and get him off topic.

After a moment of collecting his thoughts while looking out at the moonlit night sky, he begins.

Do you know why we have this tradition?

Which tradition? I ask sarcastically. We have so many. They’re like the stones in the palace walls. Trapping me here. It’s like I’m imprisoned by walls of trad—

He glares at me, and I stop, producing a weak smile to feign playfulness, though he probably can see through it. It’s just, for most of my childhood I’ve been confined to this palace, confined due to the old beliefs of what I’m supposed to be. He treats it so lightly, like I should be honored to be so tightly kept within the Crystal Palace. It only makes my feelings seem that much less important to him.

Since you are going to bring that up, why do you suppose you have been kept in this… prison, as you like to call it? Why haven’t you been allowed to roam the hills or the countryside at your own will and pleasure?

I glance briefly at Alec. Little does father know that Alec takes me out by myself from time to time. He thinks the restrictions are just as ridiculous as I do, especially since he didn’t have to deal them when he was my age.

Technically, that’s because Alec is not really my brother. He was never formally adopted, and no edict or decree was ever published. No celebration was ever held. There was just a peculiar child from a faraway land being raised in in the palace.

Alec’s parents were refugees from the desert that divides this world, the world of Eretsfel, in two. Beyond that desert is the East, a land of mighty kingdoms entrenched in a constant struggle for power. He, his mother, his father, and his sister lost their home and travelled west to find a new life. They miraculously survived months of oppressive conditions pushing through the unforgiving desert and endured a merciless winter in the mountain passes before being rescued by soldiers from Khyrah. Sadly, the mountain fever went through the family soon thereafter and left only Alec alive. It broke Father’s heart, so he took him in. Because my mother had been unable to bear a child up to that point, the kingdom slowly accepted the idea that Alec would someday become king. Until I came along.

Alec says that a lot changed about Father after that. After my mother died giving birth to me. The rules that didn’t apply to Alec, which probably should have been despite the way he became royalty, were back in full force. That double-standard really irks me at times.

It’s to keep me safe because there are dangerous men around every corner waiting all day and all night at the chance that I will helplessly wander by.

Adria, don’t treat it lightly. You’re a descendant of the first king, the last High Priest, just like I am. And after I am gone, you will be the only one left. Without you, all of the gifts and rights of your birth disappear. Not only that, but you will soon be responsible for choosing the next king of this land. You were kept here to protect more than just yourself.

I don’t have a snarky response for that. Any time the ‘gifts and rights’ of my birth are discussed, I become extremely uncomfortable. I don’t believe any of it. I don’t feel like there is anything special or divine about me simply because of who my ancestors are.

Seeing that he has uprooted my attitude, father turns back toward the window and continues his lecture.

On the eighteenth birthday of the eldest child, there will be a grand ball to celebrate the coming of age. Over the course of the following year, he or she will spend one day, and only one, with each eligible suitor of the kingdom who is the same age. At the close of the year, a name is to be submitted to the king or queen. The morning of the nineteenth birthday, the eldest child will then visit and inform whom is chosen, who must then accept his or her role as the future king or queen of Khyrah.

Father loves reciting things verbatim how they are written in the law, but just hearing the next year of my life described like that makes me want nothing to do with it. There is nothing romantic about arbitrarily visiting each boy of the kingdom and picking my future husband at the end of it all. And I want romance.

In my solitude, reading helps me forget how lonely I feel. Some of my favorite stories are about true love. None of them sound like what Father is describing. No story about true love begins and ends with some forced marriage in which the boys line up and the princess picks her favorite. Now there are some characters who through a series of fortunate events escape such plots, but I don’t think I’m going to be so lucky.

Adria, you have been kept safe here at the palace not just because of the dangers hiding in the shadows, but because of those concealed in broad daylight. Were this any other kingdom, I would be choosing your husband for you. Here, the decision is given to you because of the gifts of judgment you were born with. If you had been allowed to roam freely like any impressionable child, there would have been hidden among the good those who would try to pollute your mind. Who would see you as nothing more than a key to power. Your thoughts are influenced by the whispers of angels, even if they seem like normal thoughts to you, but your mind needed time to mature away from the influence of others. You’re now of age. Your mind is ready. You are prepared to face the world and make the right decisions.

What if I don’t want to make the right decisions?

That is not what he wants to hear. He turns toward me red in the face, clearly trying to hold back his frustration. He pauses for a moment, likely searching for a way to convince me that it is important to bury my doubts about all of this.

Khyrah’s history is filled with wondrous tales of miracles and angels. Ones that set this valley apart as a sacred place. When the first High Priest came here nearly a thousand years ago, it is said that he had a vision in which he saw a time long before our people landed in Eretsfel, a time when other people dwelt here. But then there was a great fire that consumed the land and all its people. An angel descended from heaven to behold it for herself.

Her sorrow was such that she cried great tears mourning the loss of the people and the land. Those tears wetted the earth like rain, quenching the flames and breathing new life into the soil. Grass and trees and flowers began to grow again, and Eretsfel was prepared to house people and animals and all manner of life once more. The tears then gathered together at the center of this valley, forming the Mirror Lake, a reminder to always look heavenward.

The High Priest said after having that vision that when one of his predecessors had heard the whispers of an angel telling him to lead our people across the waters to Eretsfel, that it had been that angel, whose name was called Khyrah in the old language. That is how this valley became the Valley of Khyrah and why the Crystal Palace was built here to house the High Priest and his disciples.

To Father, all of that happened just as the legends and myths say, but I struggle to believe it myself. Ever since the last High Priest transformed Khyrah into a kingdom long ago, the old religion has waned in the eyes of many, including several of the later kings and queens, Father’s predecessors. This decay over time leaves me wondering just what, if any of it, is true.

Father tries to reassure me that he understands my disbelief, because he too has spent much of his older life pouring over old scrolls and texts trying to solve for himself the numberless mysteries and questions left unanswered from centuries of falling away, as he calls it. But he doesn’t have the answers, and I am not able to exercise faith as he does.

Instead of speaking, Father continues staring at me. Slowly, his disposition changes. His face becomes soft and emotional. Vulnerable, even, as though he is unearthing something buried deep in his heart. Something he does not want to share. It makes me nervous.

"Adria, you have your concerns about all of this, I know. And even though I’ve kept them hidden from you, I’ve had my days of darkness, too. When your mother was told by the physicians she could not bear children, I wondered why the gods would do such a thing if this line of kings was for some divine reason supposed to be preserved. I looked for answers to find none. Meanwhile, your mother sorrowed, and in anger I cursed the heavens and cast them aside.

But after some years, you miraculously came. Only the very same day, your mother was then taken from us. It was a dark day that haunted me endlessly, that is until I realized that you were always going to come. That she was taken because of my doubt. I don't want you making the same mistakes that I did.

He looks at me longingly, maybe hoping to get some sort of sympathetic reaction, but I am filled with too much shock and emotion to do anything other than simply stare back at him. I’ve always known that my mother died in childbirth. She never even got to hold me. But the rest has been kept a secret from me until now. I won’t accept the idea that some power above punished him for his doubts. It was simply a tragedy, and it angers me that he is using her death as evidence that I should believe in something that I just can’t.

I dream of her at night and long to see her face, but whenever I run to her she vanishes before she turns. Seeing her smile is all I have wanted since I was old enough to dream, but that hope eludes me. There are paintings and murals around the palace, of course, but I want something that feels real. Instead, I only get to imagine her the way others remember her. The way Father remembers her.

To him, everything about her was perfect. He talks about her like he hopes I will be just like her, but the memory he puts forward is everything I should be but cannot live up to. I don’t want to imagine her being perfect. I want to imagine her as approachable and patient. Someone who has made mistakes and wouldn’t make me feel worse about my own slipups. Just a mother.

As what Father just told me boils in my head, I sense that he regrets bringing it up, but rather than trying to sympathize with me or taking it back, he instead moves on and lets it fester, turning again to the window.

I look at Alec for a little help, but he seems surprisingly calm, as if he has known for a long time what Father believes to be the actual cause of my mother’s death, but hearing it for the first time is eating away at me. I want to say something to Father but can’t find the words, so he continues speaking as though briefly interrupted by a minor diversion.

The next time we see the sun you’ll be eighteen. The kingdom will finally get to know you. Little girls will be entranced by you. They’ll spend the rest of their childhood pretending your life is theirs. Mothers will watch your every move hoping to learn something about you, preparing for the coming day that you will spend with their sons. And fathers will judge you and the boy you choose, wondering if the kingdom will be safe in your hands. Every eye will be on you.

He then walks away from the window and picks up my mother’s necklace, which embitters me even more, though it usually wouldn’t. I feel like a volcano that is about to explode, and just in time because the words I want to say are finally on the tip of my tongue. But before I can speak, Alec chimes in.

Not my eyes. I get enough of her already.

I can see what he is doing. Trying to calm us down. He must be sensing a growing tension in the room, but the moment is already beyond saving, so I lash out at him.

Well no one will be looking at you Al—

Adria enough! Father belts, stilling us both.

The bite in my voice must have immediately resonated in his ears and hit something sensitive because his tone is aggressive, as though he is just as angry as I am.

What will all those watchful eyes notice as they observe you? Will they see elegance, wisdom, and charm? Will they see the sacred beauty of this kingdom? Will they see everything holy that you represent? Or will they see a child who has failed to emerge as the light they need her to be?

The room is quiet enough to hear a needle drop. Alec stands stunned. Father breathes heavily as tears form in my eyes. I fight them back for a brief second as I muster up the courage to say what I have always wanted to say.

You just want them to see mother, but she’s never coming back.

Father doesn’t respond, instead gawking at me hopelessly. Alec, who must have been searching for something to say to calm us down, tries to step in to Father’s rescue.

Adria, he’s not trying to—

Don’t try to fix this, Alec, I interrupt.

My voice is calm and resolute, so Alec stops. Father, too, seems to have run out of words to say.

I’m not going to do anything to tarnish her memory, I reassure. Tomorrow I’ll be the person you want me to be. The person you think she would want me to be. I just wish you would stop thinking that that is who I am.

They stay silent as my nerves calm a little. Just enough for the moment to become less surreal. But in that silence, the emotion of everything starts to sink in, and I suddenly feel so empty and weak that I cannot bear having their eyes on me.

I have to leave. I turn around and hurry out the door and through a hallway, passing two stunned guards who must have heard everything. After some stairs and a couple more hallways, I finally reach my room, latching the door behind and hurling myself onto my bed.

For a while I can only think of my mother. Maybe if she had been around I would have learned what it took to handle all of this pressure. Maybe I’d be much different. Maybe I’d be looking forward to the coming year. But instead I lie here a crying mess wanting to trade everything that supposedly makes me special just to have had a simple childhood with two parents instead of just one.

Time passes. I am surprised that no one has come after me. Of course, with what I said I shouldn’t be so shocked that they would rather leave me alone. Eventually, a hollow knocking echoes through the room.

Adria, I don’t need you to unlock the door to get in there. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.

Go away, Alec! I say, still a little choked up.

A few clicks and clanks later, the door opens. I don’t