Evening Star
For Love of the Past
Chapter 11
The sight of a horse taking to the sky, running amongst the clouds, though at first a shock, became almost commonplace upon the Sun City. Queen Kiaya had been most impressed, and, looking back, realized what Firewalker's connection with her niece had meant all along. His sudden reappearance on the Sun after the massacre of Aurora's family finally made sense.
Firewalker's power, however, worked to better the lives of Malachite and Aurora, opening up entire new worlds to them. New traditions began. At night, while the City slept, Malachite would venture beneath Aurora's balcony, beckoning to her. Aurora, laying awake in wait, would go to him, standing above Malachite on her terrace. Upon sighting him, she would transform, calling Firewalker to her. With his arrival, Aurora would leap from her balcony, coming to rest upon Firewalker's back. Running on the wind, they would swoop down, and with the help of Aurora's extended hand, Malachite would mount Firewalker as well, behind Aurora.
From there the couple would ride with the wind around the City, circling the protecting Border Mountains, which guarded the edge of the Sun Stone's force field around the City. They would fly to the Sea of Light, with Firewalker lowering himself in the air to the point where it seemed they ran on water. These were carefree times for Aurora and Malachite, happy times, where they could enjoy the freedom of their young lives. There were many inhabitants of the Sun City, who unable to sleep, had heard the joyous laughter of the young lovers, or had seem them riding their magical stallion across the sky. Seeing Aurora and Malachite made the people happy, as it seemed to them all was well within their City when Firewalker rode the wind, bearing the two on his back.
Another tradition was also begun and up held by the two, a tradition
known only to them, and one very dear to their hearts. On many occasions,
it was not the sights of the City that were their destinations during their
midnight flights. It was instead, a bridge, found deep within the Gardens.
There Malachite would hold Aurora in his arms as they silently gazed at
the stars, their eyes coming to their Star time and again; a Star born
with Aurora's fulfillment of her destiny. This place had become their sanctuary,
a place known only by them. Here no other worlds could touch them; here
they were most happy together.
Time, though, waits for no one. On Malachite's 16th birthday, history was made. The Last Prince of Pluto finished his training, and in doing so, became the Last True Plutonian Warrior of the Universe. The completion of his training was known by no one, save the Queen, and Aurora. For only they had been present when the Powers of Pluto took Malachite as one of its own; only they had been present when Pluto sent to Malachite a sword, The Sword of Pluto.
Destiny was a well-known visitor to the Sun City, and in the early dawn, when the sun was just peaking over the horizon and the morning mists had yet to clear, Lady Destiny returned. With the dawning of the day of his 16th day of birth, Malachite, shrouded in the mists of morning, said his final prayers. Kneeling down on his right knee, head bowed in respect and in of honor of his ancestors, with his left arm drawn across his chest, fist pressed against his right shoulder, Malachite spoke his final admonitions. None were witness to this act, save the Sun, the tress, and the mists of the forest. His training was complete, after 12 long years. He'd stolen away during the night to greet the sun rise with Firewalker as his aid; Aurora's horse he may have been, but Malachite and Firewalker were old friends.
Leaving the forests that morning Malachite felt at peace with himself. He knew he had done his family, his planet, proud. Through him the Empire was living on; he was accomplishing his life goals. Malachite returned to the Sun Palace with the Sun at his back, casting its golden light upon the waking City. The morning air was fresh, new and sweet, cleansed as it had been by the night's coolness. Flying high through the sky, Malachite felt alive; alive and free. He smiled a smile of contentment that rarely ever graced his lips. He had faired well.
The Sun shone in through her terrace windows, proclaiming with gentle persistence that morning had dawned, and it was time to awaken. Aurora groaned to herself. In her opinion, it was still far too early. Yet as she opened her eyes, she knew the Sun knew her too well, creating as it did such beauty it knew she could not resist. Her room was vast, and made mostly of white marble; her terrace windows were graced with soft, white silk sheers - her canopy bed posts were decorated with much the same material. And with the fresh morning air awakening her mind to the coming day, and the breath taking sight of the sunlight reflecting and shinning throughout her room enticing her out, Aurora's battle against the Sun to sleep in just a little while longer was lost. Smiling happily at the new dawning day, Aurora walked out on to her balcony, looking out over the Gardens as the Sun rose. The Sun sparkled on the leaves of the Gardens, caught within the morning dew. It made for a spectacular sight. With the wind blowing through her hair gently, Aurora returned to her room, preparing to dress before going on to breakfast. Today did promise to be a day of wonders.
The sky was clear that day, with not a cloud to be seen. Kiaya stood amongst the rose bushes within the Gardens. The Rose - a gift Derrick had always given her sister, Angeline. Kiaya remembered the vast bouquets he'd have sent to the Palace. Their scent would fill the halls, and could be smelled everywhere. Kiaya always found that standing here amongst the roses gave her strength; brought her sister nearer. A rustling of leaves drew Kiaya's attentions back to the present. Turning her head slightly to the left, Kiaya watched as Sailor Star walked into the clearing in which she stood, Firewalker transformed coming in behind her. The Sun shone off of Sailor Star's uniform, making her, in every sense, a star walking through the heavens. Sailor Star walked up to stand beside her Queen. With a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, Sailor Star inquired, "When will he be arriving, Majesty?"
An equally small smile tugged at the corners of Kiaya's rose red lips, "Oh, I'd say any minute now," she replied, her tone soft. "Well," Sailor Star said pointedly, but could not hide the laughter in her voice, "I wish he'd hurry up about it!" Neither could deny their excitement. Both had known of Malachite's pre-dawn travels to the forests to begin, and in his mind end, the ceremonies necessary to perform before he could claim right to the title Plutonian Warrior. But Kiaya knew there was more to it than that; it had come to her in her dreams. All she need do was ensure Malachite's presence within the Gardens that day. Destiny and Pluto would see to the rest.
Though within Kiaya's heart, a darkness dimmed the brightness of the day's promised happiness. Oh, but it had been long, hard 12 years. Kiaya knew, knew all too well what the past 12 years had held. She knew what even Aurora did not; she knew truths Malachite had wanted to keep Aurora from, spare Aurora from. Kiaya remembered, as a shiver past through her body, the nights of agony, the screams of a soul dying. She had healed the wounds Aurora knew nothing of; the deep lacerations, the broken bones – the bones shattered beyond recognition from within.
Malachite had fought apparitions conjured up from the depths of his mind. Mostly they were the ghosts of those who had killed his parents; it had been these apparitions he'd seen as he pushed his body and minds beyond all limits. But at times, he fought against himself, the weakling he thought he had allowed himself to become. Malachite had called out to the Gods and Goddesses of Pluto who were responsible for her Warriors, keeping them safe, and helping them to train. Though Pluto may have fallen to powers of evil, that evil could not destroy her Gods. They lived, and protected their young prince.
To an innocent onlooker, it would seem as though he'd fought merely against the air. But it was their powers, the powers of the Gods of Pluto that he had fought against; it was their powers which had nearly destroyed him, punishing him if he made even the smallest of combat errors. And, oh, how they would punish him; oh how they would give him no other choice than to fight when he was wounded, half dead, for fear of dying without honor all together.
The visions they created within his mind, pushing him to lose control, testing him, were enough at times to nearly drive him mad. The hours he had been forced to study to keep ahead of them were unreal. They had been relentless, those Gods of Pluto. Even when Kiaya had interfered, throwing her body over Malachite's to protect him, they had still pushed him onward. Even as a child. With a sword in hand, Malachite fought against an enemy he could not see. He had suffered, felt great pain, been pushed past all limits. But in the end, Malachite became a Warrior unlike any other, so highly trained was he in the art of honorable Warrior combat; using not only his sword and strength and swiftness of body, but also strength and swiftness of mind.
Shuddering, Kiaya's mind returned slowly to the present. Her eyes had gone some time starring off into the past, and now she closed them, a small tear escaping as she did so. How he had survived it, she did not know. She had seen them break his spirit, his very will to live, pushing him, throwing at him all things possible for a future enemy to use against him; all things possible for this enemy to try and bring him down with, to defeat and destroy him with. Kiaya lost count of all the many times she had begged Malachite to step down from his training; there was nothing dishonorable in doing so - but he would not. He swore for the sake of Pluto, he would see it to the end. And by the Gods, he did. They had trained him in the art of war, of strategically thinking. They had trained him in the art of hand to hand combat, with a weapon, and with no. Through pain and punishment they had taught him all he needed to know, and now there was not one soul in this universe or the next who had the power to stop him. How did he survive, she did not know – or did she?
The presence at her side was undeniable. Turning her head so as to see her better, Kiaya looked to Sailor Star, she looked to Aurora. Kiaya knew very well how Malachite had survived, had found the strength to carry on; he had found it in Aurora. Aurora had known Malachite had suffered because of his training, but he never told her how much. He wanted to save her from that reality. He didn't want his pain to blanket her light, dim her love for life, which he thrived on so much. When he walked out of his training rooms (which were more like cells), and way from his training, he left all of the pain and darkness behind; and walked straight into Aurora's light. Her love for him healed the wounds Kiaya's power could not, and she knew that was what saved Malachite, that was what had kept him alive all those years.
Now it was over, only to start again. Kiaya prayed to the Sun Stone to grant her strength, and prayed that someday Aurora and Malachite might find it in their hearts to forgive her, her trespasses. Kiaya continued to pray as Malachite walked into the clearing, unknowingly about to embrace his own destiny, as he had seen his true love do so many times before.
Sailor star stood anxious, awaiting Malachite's arrival. She wanted to see it, the peace that undoubtedly filled his eyes, the light that all those many hard years of suffering had extinguished. Both Malachite and Kiaya believed Aurora hadn't known, but she had always been very aware of what her lover suffered through. She had heard his cries of pain echoing throughout the night, heard them until she felt she would never be able to deafen her ears to them. When he would hold her at night, as they stood upon their bridge, with his arms wrapped so tightly about her as if he believed that to let her go would mean losing her forever, she knew; she knew he was suffering. Aurora lived knowing she couldn't help him, couldn't save him from the pain – only he could do that. But oh, the nights, at times, had been long ones.
Malachite's room had long since been moved from being down the hall from Aurora's. He now resided in the Southern Tower, the one tower of the Palace, which gave its occupants a clear, panoramic view of the City. Aurora's room faced North, and therefore had been known as the Northern Tower, until the presence of Sailor Star became known. At that point the Tower became known as The Star Point Tower. Yet even with that distance between them, Aurora could still hear Malachite at night, lost in the nightmares of fretful sleep. She would go to him, transforming when the option was open to her, stealing away through the darkness of the corridors when it was not.
She would always find Malachite the same as she had so many times before, trapped within the realms of sleep. His skin would be covered in a cold sweat, his brow would be drawn tight in anguish, and his body would be in a state of unrest, tossing and turning, sometimes violently. He would mutter words, threats, and pleas to unknown, unseen assailants. To look at him caused Aurora such heart break that it was almost painful to be there in the room with him. But she would stay, sitting at his bedside, drying the sweat that chilled his body, whispering to him words to sooth his tormented sleep. And she would sit at his bedside and cry, pouring out her heart to his dreams, hoping to bless him with even a moment's peaceful sleep. Her calming touch always went to still his sleep, and dispel his nightmares. And when his breathing calmed, and his heart beat slowed, when Aurora was sure the demons of the night would not return to prey on him further, Aurora would leave Malachite's room; only to return again when she was needed. Yet for all those years he suffered, Malachite never knew Aurora stood watch over him at night, helping him to fight the battles he was not strong enough to fight alone.
Sailor Star's breath caught as Malachite walked into the clearing. She swore everyday he could not become more beautiful, more handsome than before, but he always managed to find a way. And there it was, in his eyes - the light, the happiness. He walked as if the weight of the world had been taken from his shoulders. He stopped, realizing the audience he had. Smiling, he walked over to Kiaya, and taking her hand, kissed her on her cheek, whispering words of thanks for only her to hear. Then he turned to Aurora. She smiled at him, her eyes shinning, and he returned her smile. How Aurora loved that smile, and walking to stand closely beside him, she took his hand in hers. Oh, she had known all that Malachite had attempted to shield her from. She might not have been aware of the tactics of his training, but she had been more than aware of its effects. Her heart's pain finally found relief in knowing, now, it was all at an end.
Regarding the two women of his life with humor in his eyes, Malachite addressed them both, his voice deep, "Would either of you like to explain why we are here?" Aurora only smiled back at him, leaving the explaining up to her Queen. No explanation was needed.
Malachite looked questioningly to his Queen, awaiting her response. Without warning, a bright, white light shone from behind him, distracting him. Bewildered, then suddenly wary, Malachite turned – only to come face to face with an apparition from his past thought to have been lost to him forever – but never, ever forgotten. Suspended in the air, surrounded by a halo of pure white light was the Sword of Pluto. Malachite stood, barely breathing, his heart rate rapid. Rarely had anything in his life ever taken him by surprise, but this he did not see coming. The Sword of Pluto was a mark of Royalty, its power commanded and controlled only by the reigning Monarch, or Monarchs of Pluto. He had thought the Sword to be long since destroyed, but for it to be here now could only mean one thing.