"If you were about to kill yourself, and nearly plunged the sword in your own heart," Serenity began, "then how are you alive now?"
Lita smiled faintly. "The tree," she said. "Jupiter's powers blessed that mulberry tree. I was sitting on a root! It tumbled me and knocked the sword away from me. So I gained power over the forces of nature, for it was nature that killed my beloved."
Serenity looked thoughtfully at the flask before her, into the dark water that churned as if it were still in the river. "Thank you for your help," she said. "Night approaches, however, and I wouldn't want you around when Queen Beryl returns. I believe she has a sensor for great power..."
"Thank you, my queen," Lita said. "That story had been inside for a long time. I haven't shared it with anyone since it happened, just wandered around, very lonely."
Serenity stood and held her arms out towards Lita, who smiled brightly and bounded into them.
Once again, so warm, Serenity said. There is something about this girl, and the other two I met, in common.
"Good luck," Lita whispered as she slunk away.
Trivia awoke with a short shriek, but quickly clamped her hands over her mouth. Orcas slept like a dead man, but he would stir at a hint of her discomfort.
Climbing out of bed slowly so as not to jar the bed, Trivia made her way to the bathroom adjoining her bedroom. She took a deep breath and turned on the water, letting it run cold before she began to splash liberal amounts on her face.
"What a horrible dream," she whispered to herself.
She turned up and looked at her face in the mirror. She looked pale, ragged, and scared. Her conscience bothered her more than anything. She wondered, fearfully, regretfully, what had happened to Serenity.
Diana and she had parted ways after leaving Serenity's palace that night. Neither woman had any intentions of staying near the palace – they went home to their castles, to their cozy places on the Moon, comfortable with the fact that their younger sister would no longer surpass them in anything – beauty or wealth.
It had been a week, however, and Trivia was beginning to feel guilt eat away at her. She could have killed her sister! If Serenity truthfully went through with her awful deed and murdered the king, there would be hell to pay.
How could she have set up her sweet little sister that way? Serenity never asked to be born beautiful, and she didn't ask to be married to a king richer than both Somnus and Orcas. She just had incredible luck – or bad luck, depending on who was looking at the situation. In reality, Serenity had never lorded it over her sisters that she was more beautiful. She was always very uncomfortable with the situation. And she never bragged about her wealth. She simply wanted to share it with her sisters, show them her happiness, seemed innocently unaware of the fact that jealousy burned in their hearts.
How could they have been so cruel to her?
Trivia watched her face crumble in the mirror, watched tears run down her face. And she was being rightfully punished. When she was younger and fought with Diana or teased Serenity, her father strictly warned her of the anger of the Furies – Megaera, Alecto, and Tisiphone – the goddesses who brought punishment upon souls who offended others, especially their family members. Three vengeful goddesses who tortured their transgressors with nightmare visions and horrible fates.
For three straight nights she had been tortured with visions. The first night was vague – the sea crashing against her home, Diana's home, the entire kingdom, washing it away. But as the nights wore on, the sea materialized – spawned horrible creatures and ugly nightmarish beasts, climbing onto the beaches and attacking the kingdom with force.
The dreams were silly in a sense. The Moon Kingdom wasn't even situated on a beach; the closest great sea was the Sea of Serenity, and that was hundreds of kilometers away from the kingdom, not close enough to cause minor flooding, much less the destruction of a kingdom that had stood for centuries.
At the same time, they frightened Trivia. The sea was symbolic, and she knew it. And the visions were too vivid, too realistic. The Furies were punishing her...and she was afraid that punishment would become corporeal in time.
Beryl stared into the flask a third time. The black water swirled inside, as frothy as if it were a raging river. She set it down on the grass besides her and narrowed her eyes at her opponent – the young Serenity, queen of Elysian.
"I do not know how you accomplished this," she said, glaring hatefully at the beautiful young queen. Her eyes flickered. Did this stupid young girl possess some sort of spiritual...powers?
She stared at the flask. The Moon Kingdom wasn't famed for young women with powers...and it would definitely be universal news if Serenity, the most beautiful mortal in the galaxy, possessed spiritual powers. Yet, how had she conquered this task? It was impossible to reach the raging river without help from some sort of flying animal, and even then, how would she have gotten the water into the flask?
"Please," Serenity said plaintively, "may I see my husband now?"
Beryl turned back to the princess and narrowed her eyes. "No," she said. You will have another task to complete...one I will give to you tomorrow morning, at dawn. Rest well tonight, my dear Queen Serenity."
"Please," Serenity said, stepping forward, but Beryl merely waved her hands and disappeared in thick clouds of black smoke, leaving Serenity to stare at the place where she had been.
The four generals trudged, weary, from the battle scene.
It was a shambles. The battle against Babylon had been much cleaner, but Cyprus had been a bigger, stronger country, much harder to defeat. The war had been bloody...but surprisingly short.
General Jadeite extracted his sword from the last fallen Cyprian with a shudder. He reached down and touched the chest of the soldier. Dead, he confirmed.
Be glad you're dead, brother, a voice inside him called out in despair. The ones still alive have a much worse fate.
The blood on his own sword repulsed him, inexplicably.
Spotting a handkerchief in the Cyprian soldier's breast pocket, Jadeite reached down and snatched the cloth up, rubbing his sword fiercely with the effor to clear it of the blood. Finally the last remnants of the red liquid were cleared from the blade.
Jadeite held back the small square cloth and studied it. It was pink, a color no soldier would buy of his own accord.
The young general shuddered again as he dropped the handkerchief. He'd noticed the monogram in the corner of the cloth.
R.
"Jadeite...what are you doing?"
Jadeite looked up to regard the face of his superior commander, Kunzite. He saluted him smartly, but Kunzite shook his head.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes." Of course he was okay. Another day's work for Beryl, his beloved queen.
"No." How could he be okay? He had just killed off the last of his free countrymen.
Kunzite sighed deeply. Their souls were in subjection to Beryl, but their hearts and brains were still free – for the most part. Then there were times when Kunzite wasn't sure what he still controlled himself. He wouldn't have threatened his prince of his own accord, but Beryl had horrible means of torturing a soul – ones that she made sure the generals had a taste of before she set them out to do her bidding.
"Come on," he said, putting a hand on Jadeite's shoulder. The younger man was shaken, but he'd found the same problem Kunzite had – he couldn't stop his own actions, couldn't stop the slaughter of his own countrymen. His mind was torn between the love for his country, his struggle for control over his body members, and Beryl's strong influence on his soul.
Kunzite turned his eyes to the blue above. Thrace was the strongest kingdom outside of Erebus, so that would be the last one they tackled. But eventually, they would be there, and he would be going through the same inner torment Jadeite was now, and Nephrite had already undergone last week – tearing through his own countrymen, killing familiar faces, but powerless to stop the carnage.
The two men joined the other two generals, Nephrite and Zoisite, to the caravan that had been set up not too far from the battle scene. Endymion sat in the middle of the surrey, head bowed. If his hands weren't bowed, they'd probably be clasped. The priest, now turned pegasus, also had his head bowed in silent prayer.
When the Elysian prince heard the men's footsteps approach, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. They were bleary, red, and still wet with tears.
"How could you?" he whispered. "All of you? Especially you...Jadeite?"
Jadeite's heart burst into tears. His face set itself stonily.
"Beryl," he said grimly.
"What happened?" Endymion cried, more loudly. "What did she do to you? What power of hers could possibly make you do something as horrendous as this?"
"Do you think we want to do it?!" Nephrite cried.
"Of course we do," Zoisite said solemnly.
"No, we don't," Kunzite countered.
"Yes, we do," Jadeite said softly, surprising them all.
There was a moment of silence. Then Endymion spoke.
"Can someone...explain this...confusion?"
Kunzite heaved a sigh. As the oldest, and freest, he often ended up doing most of the explaining – the one most able to, with the most control over his functions.
"Beryl...has subjection over our souls," he replied, bowing his head. "Our hearts are still ours, but our souls belong to Beryl. And thus she controls our bodily functions. The soul has stronger control over our minds, and thus, she controls what we do. So we may not want to kill our own countrymen."
"We're not even sure what we want," Nephrite confirmed.
"Yes," Kunzite continued. "But whatever we want, we're conquering these countries."
"Sometimes we have a bloodlust so strong that we can't control it...that we must..." Zoisite gestured to the carnage behind him. "I think those are the times when Beryl influences our souls the most...when there is no hope in us...when we're in despair."
"And there are other times—" Jadeite looked up at his prince. "—when we remember...things...and we rebel. But the pain, the pain of rebelling is too great..."
"...so we try not to remember," Nephrite ended.
"Remember what?" The priest spoke for the first time.
The four generals exchanged glances, and they all shook their heads and shrugged.
"We don't remember," Nephrite said.