Blood and Ash

 Hey! Here's that story from Alice, because Pandora is more than a little stuck. Maybe next week you'll meet the gladiator she hates so much. Otherwise Jack has something new.

So. Alice told me this story was loosely based on the Legend of Zelda gaming universe, though I couldn't tell when I read it over.

Without further ado, Blood and Ash.

Ten thousand years of searching, he thought, And still no trace of her. 

Ten thousand years. The world had changed since the day he had started his search, since he was charged with the sacred duty of finding the Queen's Granddaughter. Back then, he'd ridden a horse, or walked, or begged farmers for rides in their wagons. Ships hadn't even begun crossing the oceans, or the airplanes that made weeks of travel into nights, or even hours.

And the collapse. If not for the protection spells he had learned on his long search, he would've been ripped apart by the creatures that came from the seas, from the outer reaches of space. Humanity had fought them off, but only barely. They'd been forced to destroy their own infrastructure when it was discovered that the creatures fed off the strange information sharing system that had been called the internet. 

Ten thousand years is a long time, and he was starting to feel it. Though spells and magic would keep his body young until he completed his search, his mind felt the fatigue. Years of trekking across the earth had taken their toll, and he no longer had the energy or will to complete the mission he had been so eager to begin.

But the Queen waited for him. She, too, was immortal until her granddaughter was found. Until there was a successor for her line.

When her daughter disappeared into the streams of time during a routine training session, the Queen outlawed time travel, in an effort to safeguard the lives of those under her. But she hadn't anticipated the magic of the throne, which kept her and her entire court alive long past the time they should've perished. A successor would be the only thing to free them from eternity.

"Excuse me, sir," a young woman approached him, her steps slow, her arms and legs impossibly thin. "Do you have any food to spare?"

He stared at her, wondering why she had chosen him to approach. Though he took care to keep himself clean, his clothes were in the same shape hers were, and his beard and hair was wild and unkempt. When humanity was fighting for survival, no one cared about neatness. The combs had been melted in an attempt to drive the aliens back. Some hogwash about the build-up of oil from human skin, or something like that. However, it had worked, but it meant men and women were paying more for a single comb than most earned in a year.

Slowly shaking his head, he walked on, careful not to trip on any of the rough patches or cracks in the pavement. 

At least she had asked. The last group had tried to threaten him with a knife.

Finally, it got too dark to keep walking, so he sat down next to one of the buildings. Ash from volcanic activity meant that the temperature stayed pleasantly warm, even after the sun went down.

As he drifted in and out of sleep, his home called to him. His queen called to him.

"Doran," she said, standing before him. She looked as beautiful as the day he'd left, as the dawn and summer sky. "Please, you must hurry."

"I'm trying, my queen," he replied, bowing low.

"We run out of time. The fatigue is setting in, and more are falling asleep. I fear that we will not live to see a new monarch on the throne."

When he dared to meet her eyes, he saw the same ache that plagued him. Their minds wanted to rest.

"I'll find her," he said, his resolve strengthened. "I swear it."

With that, he woke. 

"Hey, old man." A group of ragtag children stood around him, led by a scrawny teenager.

"Leave me alone," Doran whispered, feeling a pang of fear. Even with his protection spells, an altercation with this group could be messy.

"We would, except Poppy here recognized you. Said you were in her mother's stories."

Doran stared at the girl that the teen had indicated. All these years, and she woke him up? He could see the irony of the situation.

"She recognized me?"

"Are you hard of hearing? That's what I said."

Slowly, Doran stood up, holding his arms out with his palms up to show that he wasn't armed. "Who was her mother?"

"How are we supposed to know? She died when Poppy was little, barely old enough to fend for herself."

So the Princess was dead. That was why Doran had been sent to find the Queen's Granddaughter.

"Was she killed in the Collapse?"

Poppy nodded, staring at him with suspicious eyes. 

"But you remember me from her stories?"

"Mother said that I would meet a man who looked like a wolf, a man who would steal me away from everything I loved."

Doran breathed a sigh of relief. It would be so much easier to take the girl away if she'd been prepared. He thanked the spirit of the Princess for understanding that.

"Did she tell you where I would take you?"

"To a court of pretenses and lies. But I'm not going anywhere."

"Why not?"

"Because this is my home, and I am with my family. There isn't anywhere you could take me that would be better than this."

"Oh, but there is," Doran replied, stepping toward her. "The place I come from is a land of magic and mystery, with lush meadows and sparkling cities."

The scrawny teen laughed. "And you, old man, are crazy. Magic is a lie, a trick to make weak minds follow. You'll not fool us."

"Please, let me show you," Doran said. Poppy shrank back, not letting him touch her.

"No. Mother said that if I went with you, I would die."

That made Doran stop. Princess Carlina had been a powerful seer. Perhaps the accident hadn't been a...

Mentally, he shook himself. He was being paranoid. Years away from the court had drained his memory of the beauty of it.

"That's not true," he finally said, "Where I come from, you are a princess. You are the next ruler of our court."

Now the children stared at him. As much as they tried to deny it, they'd all dreamed of being royalty, of having someone come and whisk them away from the poverty and hunger that was their daily lot.

"You should go, Poppy," one of the girls whispered. "Go with him, and then come back for us."

Poppy stared at the girl, her red hair shining like a beacon. "I will, but only so I can take you away from here."

She stepped forward and took Doran's hand. In a blink, they stood in the center of the court, surrounded by courtiers. But something wasn't right.

Doran stared around, trying to put his finger on it, ignoring the men and women who exclaimed over him and Poppy. Try as he might, the change eluded him.

"Dearest Granddaughter!" the Queen exclaimed, parting the crowd like her silvery hair. "Oh, I'm so happy you're safe. Where is your mother?"

"She didn't live through the Collapse." Poppy seemed to be taking the change extraordinarily well, looking around curiously.

"That's unfortunate," the Queen whispered, standing silent for a few moments. "But all is well, because you have returned home. Please, dear Granddaughter, come sit on my throne. Take your rightful place as our queen."

Poppy looked nervous as she walked forward. The throne was an ornate affair, woven from a living tree. This meant that it was always growing and changing, though there were servants who were tasked with making sure it didn't grow too quickly. Each year, the tree was carved with a new pattern that attached to the old, meaning that it bore an intricate growth chart on its branches.

With no small amount of effort, Poppy managed to climb into the throne, which stood nearly as tall as she did. After a bit of shifting to get comfortable, she sat perfectly still.

Doran stared at her as she seemed to fade. Her youth vanished, until she was bend and twisted, her red hair now a muted shade of silver, her face lined and worn. The Queen seemed to grow younger, her mind suddenly rejuvenated.

He felt it too. The fatigue that had tormented him for so long seemed to lift. Doran felt young again.

Poppy screamed on the throne as she faded further, her fingers falling to dust as she stared.

Around him, the court itself got brighter, sucking away Poppy's life in order to preserve itself.

Falling to his knees, Doran retched. His stomach presented him with the small bits of food he had managed to scrounge that morning.

"No," he gasped out as Poppy melted away. "NO!"

"You have done well, Doran," his Queen knelt next to him, the woman he had given ten thousand years of his life to. "Your court and people thank you."

"Why?" he whispered, staring at her.

"Because I do not want to die," she replied. "Immortality was something I've always desired, which is why I cast Carlina into the streams of time. With any luck, the girl would die before you found her. But I never counted on the fatigue."

The Queen rambled on and on, though Doran wasn't listening. Instead, his hand grasped something within the tattered fabric of his cloak, a weapon that he should never have found. A weapon that he'd kept, though he didn't know the reason why.

Moving with a speed he didn't remember, he plunged the knife into the Queen's chest, pulling her life force out with it. She collapsed immediately, and the court began to crumble and shake.

"Death is not something to be feared," he whispered to her still body. "Death is a friend. Death means that we can rest."

And in moments, the court that had been home to the most powerful sorcerers since time began collapsed.

Thanks for reading! Have a good week!