ZARAMANNI (BOOK ONE)

Before she found herself giving in to that perplexing moment, Zaramanni took note of the obscurity in the man’s eyes.

The dark eyes of the man with the light-toned skin wore intense sorrow and by that, she could tell that there were stories behind that look. Soon, those eyes clamped shut as he pulled her by the arm and intensified the kiss.

Zaramanni knew it was wrong.

He had called another woman’s name before he put his intoxicating lips on hers but she could not stop him. Something inside her wanted it to continue.

She felt a jolt in her spine as he captured her lips ardently and sucked its flesh seductively and assuredly.

Zara could not tell him to stop.

As much as he wanted to kiss the woman he thought she was, she wanted him to continue.

It was weird but true.

Zaramanni seemed to feel some strange connection to the man.

So, her hands went around the thickness of his neck as he gently called the name, ‘Laura’ severally.

A groan left the King’s lips as he circled his masculine, hairy arms around her waist. Zaramanni leaned closer and asked for more of the feel of his lips without saying a word.

“Laura...” That name was mentioned again with great fervour.

Zaramanni let out a shuddering sigh as the kiss came to an end and as the man ran his fingers through her long hair whose colour was heading towards a shade of light blue.

Zara stared into his wanting eyes. She stayed in his hold and tried to understand what she had just done and why.

She wished to decipher why she felt pulled to the man she had never met before.

“Laura, what did they do to you?” his voice asked softly as his pain-filled eyes roamed hers. “Did they harm you?”

“You-” Zara sighed, halting her words as guilt began to eat up her chest. She had just kissed a man that belonged to another and the fact that she didn’t mind that it was wrong from the start made the heavy feeling sink in further.

So, since she was finally feeling the way she was supposed to feel, she stepped out of his hold as slowly as possible.

“You have to come with me, there is somewhere you need to be,” Zaramanni announced calmly as she urged herself to not beat herself up so much.

Leading the King as the fairies demanded was the only business she had in that room. It was the only business she had in that strange place. Before she knew it, she’d be back home, the unexpected kiss long forgotten, and totally erased from her mind.

“Are we going home?” he asked quietly and Zara looked into his eyes again. He looked so lost, she had to wonder what had happened to him.

Resting her palm against the side of his face as he looked up at her with little hope in his eyes, she replied, “Yes, we are.”

His fluffy, black-coloured hair which had hints of light brown tucked within its full mane danced as he nodded his head. “That’s good. There’s so much to do back home. Our people are waiting for us.”

Zaramanni gulped as she suddenly had a feeling that suggested that she could be harming him by leading him out of that room.

But that was just a thought, it could be true or false.

So, Zaramanni helped him up, and soon, after slow steps, they were outside the large room where Ezeman stood, waiting to take the man with him.

“Is he the king of the fairies? Is he your king?” Zaramanni inquired, eager to ask who the woman Laura was once a response was given to her question.

“No.”

“Wait, what?” Zara looked bothered.

“The fairies don’t have a king. We bow only to our Queen.”

Zara frowned. Something instantly felt wrong. “But the man earlier called him a king. Isn’t he your King?”

“He is a king alright,” Ezeman seemed a bit chatty at that moment, ” but he is not king over Amarxona.”

“You-”

Before she could complete her question, Ezeman walked toward a light-shaded door that was opposite the room and he opened it.

His hand gripping the King by his arm, Ezeman stepped into the space that the entrance led to and asked her to come in.

Zaramanni was reluctant at first. She wanted to ask if she could go home but she did as he said eventually.

It was an elevator, the space they had entered. The room descended at a fast speed as its occupants stayed still in silence.

Soon, the door flung open, the transit came to an end, and Ezeman led the King and Zaramanni out of the lift.

Their loud steps led them into a large room. The space was almost empty but for a huge pot of blue fire that was intensely burning in the middle of the room.

As her sharp sight studied the many inscriptions on the body of the basin, Zara felt the presence of the moon.

She looked up and saw that there was an opening that let the fullness of the moon into the room.

Zaramanni’s mind was now greatly troubled, and her gaze raced through the decorated walls of the large room that had drawings, inscriptions, and peculiar paintings all over them.

She felt a chill against her legs and soon realized that she was standing on a floor that bore a liking to something made out of ceramic. It had arcs and lines drawn over its span. These lines were connected to form a huge drawing of creatures that bore wings.

Zaramanni’s mini-excursion of the weird room was cut short as she heard the sound of metal. She looked to her left and saw that the King had been chained to the wall firmly.

With surprise in her system, she raced towards Ezeman who was securing the last lock over the man’s feet.

“What are you doing, Ezeman?”

Ezeman stood up and stared at her coldly. He said nothing to the girl who was hoping fervently that something terrible wasn’t about to happen.

His pale lips wore a smirk as he looked beyond Zaramanni and said, “Grab her and chain her to the wall.”

A sudden voice asked, “Beside the king?”

“Yes. They need to be beside each other.”

“Wait,” Zara cried out as she felt fierce hands grab her arms. “What are you doing, Ezeman? What is the meaning of this? Why are they… Get your filthy hands off me, you bastards!”

She fought the men, her legs in the air as she tried to escape their hold but all that was in vain. They moved closer to the chains regardless.

“Ezeman! What is going on? You said you’ll give me answers when I’ve done what you brought me here to do. I’ve brought the king to you, what else do you want?”

She cried out, disturbing the quietude that was in the room minutes ago.

But that room didn’t deserve peace. Zara had no idea what was about to happen to her but she knew that she had just been deceived strongly.

“Zaramanni.” Ezeman stood in front of her as the men clasped the locks over her limbs. “You should stop making noise, it won’t do you any good.”

“I won’t stop shouting!”

“Suit yourself.” He looked at one of the guards whose uniform seemed hideous to Zaramanni. “Whip her.”

“Wait, what? Arghhh!” She cried out as a painful, peppery feeling landed on a portion of her back. “Why are you doing this?”

“Again,” Ezeman ordered.

She screamed again as the whip landed on the same spot. Tears stung her eyes and she tried to fight them. She had no desire to release her tears until she knew why she was being unjustly treated.

“Stop.” Ezeman knelt in front of Zara whose breathing had become irregular and ragged. She shook like water on a leaf as she tried to keep herself together, her hair falling to the side haggardly. “Do you know why you are being beaten?”

“Because ... you are not a man... of your word?” Zara wished to sound bitter but she could barely talk as the pain lingered longer than she thought.

“Wrong answer. Because you are talking when you are not supposed to.” His hand gripped her chin firmly and Zara felt disgusted by his touch. “In case you need a reminder, you came here yourself, I did not force you. But, you should know when to keep quiet. You lived most of your life acting like a mute but now that you are here, you want to talk all you want?

I won’t let that happen. This is Amarxona’s sacred room, anyone who disturbs the peace of this room will be punished according to the laws of the land. Is that clear?”

Zara glared hard at him as he got up. Sweat gathered over her forehead as she struggled with the lingering pain. Soon, she managed to sit up and knew better than to say another word.

As she closed her eyes with the hope that the hurt she was feeling would quickly disappear, she heard approaching footsteps. Then the unforgettable voice of the old man she met earlier reached her ears.

“Ezeman,” the fairy chuckled, “you don’t have to be so harsh. After all, she is our special visitor. She should be treated with care.”

“She violated the law, my Lord,” Ezeman said, slightly bowing his head as the old man walked towards Zara.

“Hmm. If she did violate the law, punishment is necessary.” His staff supported him as he squatted and placed his wrinkly right hand on Zara’s head.

She heard him mutter some words, and, seconds later, she stopped shivering. The pain stopped altogether to her delight.

“Is everything ready?” The man slightly glanced behind him as he spoke.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Oh,” Zaramanni noted how aged the old fairy’s voice sounded as a grunt left his lips while he attempted to stand erect. “The moon looks beautiful today. It seems the goddess has decided to bless this ritual.”

Zara looked in the King’s direction. He still looked lost, he was barely aware of what was going on. She knew she had to do something, but what could she do? She was merely a human who had found herself in a strange land.

“Bring the King to the fire,” the aged creature ordered and the guards dragged the King toward the huge pot. The long, embroidered garment the fairy wore spread out as he began to chant some words. Soon, he was joined by some other voices.

These faceless voices echoed his chants and filled the room with their voices.

“The ritual knife?” With extreme solemnity, Ezeman brought what the older sprite requested. “Akylis, oh great mother of the moon, we bring to you, the one who used to be feared. We come to you, we ask that he may be reborn, we ask that he may find his missing part, we ask that he becomes whole again.”

Zaramanni’s eyes twitched as she watched the King fall to his knees without being pushed.

At that moment, fear gripped her more than ever.

The leader’s hands were still in the air as he begged the moon, and he continued, “We offer you a King’s blood, a burning flame, and a half-fairy. We ask that he may be reborn.”

“We ask that he may be reborn,” the faceless voices echoed.

Soon, with his wings suddenly making an appearance, the older fairy walked toward the King and held out his palm toward the flame. Zara squirmed as she watched the knife pierce through the man’s flesh.

His blood rushed into the burning flame and suddenly a loud howl shook the entire room.

Once calm was introduced into the space, the cloaked man said solemnly, “Bring the girl.”

“Wait... no.” Zaramanni tried to put up a fight once again. She wasn’t willing to be exposed to the kind of pain the almost lifeless king had just suffered. She did not want to be part of the ritual.

But her struggles were nothing in the grasp of the guards who had now pushed her closer to the heat of the flaming chamber.

“We offer to you, the blood of a half-fairy,” the old one continued and the hidden voices echoed that as well. He grabbed her hand fiercely and brought the knife’s sharp edge to her flesh.

“Please,” Zara begged as she felt the sharpness of the lethal weapon dig into her skin. She couldn’t bear to look at what was going on with her hand, but she could feel her blood escaping rapidly. “Please, stop.” The knife dug deeper and her cries filled the room instantly.

Her wails overpowered the loud shriek that came from the flame that shot into the air as her blood mixed with its blueness.

Like a used diaper, the fairy tossed Zara’s bloodied hand aside and continued with the ritual, chanting incomprehensible words.

Zaramanni cried on the ground, rocking herself as she tried to endure the pain of the deep cut.

But, she could not do it. The ache was not one she could cope with and soon, strong anger brewed within her.

As the chants filled the room more and more, as the cloak of the older creature with the long white bread and pale blue skin swept past her, Zaramanni felt her fury rush out of her.

Suddenly, with all the power in her voice, she screamed, “You bastards!”

Her chains came loose, and so did the King’s. The anger within her shook the grounds and the pot of fire could not withstand the shake.

As the pain in her hand increased, so did the tears in her eyes and so did her screams.

And those screams destroyed the sacred place. It made the pot of fire tumble, it made the walls crumble, and it made everyone in that room face disaster.

Zara had no idea what was going on around her. All she knew was that she was hurting, and it was the kind of pain she couldn’t endure and she wanted to get rid of it so bad, that she could only scream.

Zaramanni screamed as much as her heart ached.

Who did she offend so much that she had to face a cruel fate such as that? What kind of universal powers caused her to be dragged to that strange land? Why did she have to be whipped like an animal without an owner? Why did she have to…?

“Snap out of it!” Zaramanni heard that loud voice that pierced past her deafening shrieks. “You need to snap out of it!”

“What…” She felt a surge of power run through her veins as the thick male voice got to her. With a deeper scowl on her face, she asked, “What did I do so wrong?”

As she spoke, Zaramanni realized that she could barely recognize her voice. Its tone was suddenly deeper and louder, it seemed like her voice boomed across the room like an amplified speaker.

“Nothing. None of this is your fault, so you need to snap out of it.”

“Why does this have to happen to me?” Her voice cracked as tears overpowered her screams.

As her heart ached some more, Zara felt her body being pulled into someone’s embrace. She felt her hair being caressed.

This person let her cry her heart out. He held her strongly until she jumped out of the trance that the powerful situation had put her in.

Dropping recklessly onto the ground, Zara’s eyes opened and she became calmer.

Her blue irises swept across the mess the entire room had become. The whole place had been reduced to rubbles, everyone who had been in the room, the faceless voices inclusive, looked tattered, half-burnt, and confused as they tried to stand straight.

The only thing distinctive in that entire environment was the moon which shone brightly onto the collapse.

And, if one were to take that into consideration, it seemed as though the heavens were mocking the entire situation that was supposedly a huge fail at that point.