Moved!!!

Hey ya'll!

This is just an update that this blog has now been moved to WordPress! It has also been renamed GreekQuill, and you can visit it by clicking here. Be sure to check it out!

Happy Holidays!
Megha

MTH: Chapter 4, The Curiousities of Friendship

Welcome back!!
Chapter 1, chapter 2, and chapter 3 are, respectively, here, here, and here.


The king wasn’t at the palace.

The king wasn’t in the garden.

He wasn’t anywhere, as far as Lyion could see.

Although, Clem didn’t really care.

“Lyion, why are we looking for him?” she asked, watching the trees.

“Because he’s my father, and he knows about Myra, and I really don’t think it’s a coincidence that when Myra is alone in the forest he just happens to not be here!”

That got Clem’s attention. “He knows about Myra?” she asked, eyebrow cocked. Lyion groaned. Clem had only listened to that part of his mini-rant.

“He knows I meet with her sometimes.” Then he quickly told her about that morning’s conversation with the king. Clem nodded thoughtfully, and then made a very big mistake.

She let the hint of a smirk curl her lips.

***

Of course, there was still the king. Myra sighed as she climbed another tree. King Albert was very slippery, and clever enough that she would have been very surprised if he hadn’t figured out that she was here and that Lyion was visiting her. He was probably already at the palace by now, although Myra still had to make a sweep of the forest just in case.

She was right, of course.

Myra headed back to the palace, making sure to remain hidden. When she finally reached the palace, Myra noticed the small patch of white on the bottom of the door. She pulled it off and quickly read it, frowning slightly. A whistle later, a bird was flying away, another note attached to its leg.

Myra slipped inside without alerting the palace guards to her presence. Then, she snuck into Lyion’s room, knowing he would be there waiting for her.

When Myra walked in, she immediately noticed that the room was occupied by two guards, as well as Clem and Lyion (who was staring at her in shock). She stopped, and met Clem’s eyes. The younger girl was triumphant, and not trying to hide it. A smirk once more captured Clem’s lips.

There was a clear, simple message in her expression. I win. Myra offered a wry grimace, instead turning to the guards that had trapped her as soon as she had crossed the threshold of the bedroom.

“Do you two think it wise to allow the crown prince to be in the same room as an inevitable fight, with only two guards to protect him?” she asked coolly. Both men glanced simultaneously at each other, to the exasperation of Myra. “Turning your back on me is a great idea,” she muttered.

Lyion opened his mouth, realizing where this was heading. “No, I am not leaving,” he snapped.

The younger of the two guards paused, but the older one just rolled his eyes and gestured for help in getting the boy out of the room. “He’s a stubborn one,” he murmured to his partner.

When all three had left--accompanied by Lyion’s protests--Myra locked the door.

Then she walked over to a sighing Clem.

“A room with a window?” she asked, slightly amused. “A really big and easy to open window? And the window is right over a convenient bed. I’ve never known you to make this many mistakes, Clementine!”

Clem smiled sweetly. “Then go ahead and try getting out. I’m sure you’ll find it very...amusing.” Myra shrugged and opened the window. It was worth a try. She was about to climb out when she heard an unmistakable click. She turned around, her eyebrows rising.

Clem was standing there and in her hand was a gun. Directed at Myra, of course.

“Are you sure you want to climb out of that window?” Clem asked with a smirk.

“Are you sure you want to shoot me?” Myra asked very softly. Then she whistled: one note, very high, very short.

***

Clem’s stomach sank as she heard Myra’s whistle. Nine people came through the door, eight girls and a boy. Six of the girls were carrying two blindfolded, tied-up guards, who were deposited in a corner. She noticed that one of them was twirling a small lockpick. The last two girls were holding a scared boy. Scared, because one of the girls was holding something to his throat, drawing Clem’s eyes.

It was a knife.

She slowly turned to face Myra, amazement apparent on her face, the gun still cocked, unwavering. Myra was watching her with a kind of detached curiosity.

Clem could barely speak. “Y-you wouldn’t,” she whispered. Myra tilted her head, as if to say, “Wouldn’t I?” Clem turned to face Lyion again, for that was who the boy was.

“C-Clem? M--” he managed, remembering at the last moment that he really shouldn’t say Myra’s name in front of palace guards, although he realized a split second later that they were unconscious. “What’s going on? Why is there a kn-knife at my throat? W-why are you climbing out of a window, Myra? And why do you have a gun, Clem?!”

Myra turned away. “Why don’t you explain?” she asked Clem.

Lyion interrupted. “And while you’re doing that, please clarify how you went from hugging to killing each other.” Some of the girls that surrounded him smiled or snickered.

At that moment, Clem resented Myra, resented her for putting her in such a bad position. She had to give a good reason as the two guards that answered to the king would question her sooner or later, unless the king questioned her himself. She really didn’t have a choice. Clem would be in huge trouble if Lyion, the crown prince, was hurt because of her actions, and so she pretty much had to give up maybe her only chance.

“Well, you see...” Clem debated on how to explain to Lyion. She decided to just state the facts. “Okay, so I was going to, uh, shoot Myra, and then you came in, and now if I, uh, shoot her, she, uh, well, you know...”

Even if she had only just met him, Clem should have known better. She glanced at Lyion’s reaction. Lyion had been turning paler and paler throughout the explanation, and, short as it was, now was as pale as smoke.

“You were actually going to shoot her?!” he asked in anger, and not a small bit of complete and utter befuddlement. Of course, that would be the only thing Lyion focused on.

She felt that she needed to defend herself, so she quickly answered. “No, because she would have ki-hurt you if I did!” She flinched as Lyion froze. Clem immediately backtracked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that!”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Lyion asked in a dead voice.

Clem nodded, as she considered the possibility of escaping the girls on either side of her. But then there was Lyion. She sighed. Clem caught Lyion’s eye, and, when she did, she glanced at her feet, then her captors, her feet, then her captors...it took a while for Lyion to understand, but when he did, his eyes grew wide. He nodded.

“Give your weapon to Mason, Clem,” Myra said. Clem caught her eye and glared at her. Did Myra seriously think she was going to hand over her weapon? “Clem,” Myra added quietly. Glancing at Lyion, Clem handed the gun to a girl who had been behind her, noticing, as she did, that there were were a lot of familiar faces in the room.

After Mason handed Clem’s weapon to yet another girl, she went back to standing near Clem.

Clem mouthed ‘Now!’ at Lyion.

He wasn’t very good at fighting, but he still managed to land a punch or two on the girls holding him, enough time for Clem to get over there and help (she had escaped her captors by simply kicking them in the shins and stomach a couple of times, before snatching her gun back from Mason). She stomped on the foot of the girl to the right of Lyion, wondering once again why on Druwald did they choose her to go this mission? The girl was finicky, quite girly, and just plain silly.

Lyion quickly took advantage of his freedom and started trying to delay the other guards who were coming to help their friends. Another whistle was given. Suddenly, the window was open and the only people in the room were her, Lyion, and Myra.

Clem glared at Myra in suspicion. Why had Myra given the signal? And why had it been so easy to get away from the other girls? They were quite accomplished at fighting as well.

Myra looked back at her calmly. “Are you’re wondering where they all came from?” she asked Clem, who just nodded. “I was warned, by a certain someone--,” Clem’s bad feeling was immediately justified when Myra looked at Lyion, “--that you seemed to be plotting something. So, naturally, I brought back-up.”

“And now I’m sorry that I warned you,” Lyion muttered, loud enough for both girls to hear.

Clem ignored her annoyance. She knew she could still usurp Myra. “It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that you’re trapped.”

Myra shook her head sadly. “Oh Clem, you never did learn.”

Then everything turned black.

***

Lyion jumped, afraid as the darkness descended over the room.

“Myra...” he heard Clem mutter.

Suddenly Lyion heard a voice near his ear. “Skupina Divek. That’s your answer.” A gust of wind, and Lyion didn’t sense anyone next to him anymore.

“Uh, C-Clem?” Lyion asked, trying to make his voice stop shaking. He heard Clem sigh.

“I know, you’re scared of the dark,” she muttered.

Lyion frowned, his fright (and confusion) forgotten for a moment. “I am not!” he argued. He did have some ego.

“Okay, okay, you’re not,” Clem said, to pacify him, “Anyway, the light will turn on soon.”

“How do you know?”

Clem laughed as the light flickered on. Myra was gone.

“I-” and then she stopped. “Never mind.” Lyion’s curiosity was aroused (it got aroused by almost anything). so he repeated his question. Clem gave the same answer she had before, and then walked out of the room, effectively stopping the conversation. Lyion followed, muttering something about stubborn females.

Clem dropped Lyion off in an empty room, that he recognized as one of the many guest rooms in the palace, and told him to stay there until otherwise told, along with a slightly terrifying look. Before Lyion could say anything, she was gone, leaving Lyion really bored and with way too much time to think about what just happened. Skupina Divek? What was that the answer to?

Suddenly he had an idea. Why not go to the forest and just sit there for a while? He always felt calmer in the forest, and, anyway--why listen to Clem? He convinced himself that she had just told him to stay put because she was afraid he would get into trouble, or some other unimportant reason, then snuck out of the room and down to the forest. He broke into a run once he got there, heading for the clearing. It was empty, except for a very dead rabbit. Lyion walked closer, and then turned the rabbit over. wondering where it had come from.

Unfortunately, as soon as he touched it, a bag fell on him and everything went black.

Again.

Sequel to Another World: Another Time

Hey!

I was looking through my old work, and I found this sequel to Another World. Hope you like it!

I turn over in my bed, unable to go to sleep. I can smell the fresh air outside. Suddenly, I yearn to be able to fly, to soar above the clouds, to be free. I hear mom and dad talking in Hindi, one of India’s main languages, to my dada and dadi, my dad’s parents. Brr, I think, as I snuggle deeper under my blanket, It’s freezing. Should I ask mom to make me a glass of milk? I muse as I turn my night light on. No, I decide. As I reach to turn it off, my eyes fall on the book I was reading, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I decide to read that for a while, to help me fall asleep. I pull my blanket over my head, leaving a small crack for the light to come in, then start reading. Whenever I hear someone talking near my room, or walking up the stairs, I quickly close my book and hide the light. I wait for them to pass, then resume reading. Ten minutes later finds me so immersed in Harry Potter that I didn’t hear my mom coming to check on me. Suddenly, I am ripped from the Last Battle as I hear my mom talking outside my door. I have just enough time to hide my book and turn off my light before my mom comes in. She seems to think that I am asleep, because she kisses the top of my head and tiptoes outside, closing the door softly behind her. I decide enough was enough and I should go to sleep. So I close my eyes and drift off to Dreamworld.

~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

I smell something. A shiver creeps up my spine as I sniff the air again. The smell was of....death. Fear races through me. Did someone die? Is someone dying? Am I dying? I almost sit up, then realize it is just a dream. I snuggle deeper under my blanket, already falling asleep.

A little later, I wake up again. What woke me up? I wonder. Oh. My foot. Yesterday, a bee had stung me. My foot had swelled up today, and it still hurts when something touches it. I am about to sit up and massage it when I realize nothing is touching it. A familiar shiver makes my back tingle. I close my eyes again, letting my other senses explore. Ah ha! I think, I see now. A cold hand was on my foot. Weird, I think, Mom and Dad know it hurts when something touches my foot. So why are they touching it now? What in the world...? The death scent is in the air! And this time, it is definitely NOT my dream. A thought crosses my mind. Could that be...Lord Voldemort? No way! But, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get that thought out of my mind. Well, I think, giving up on trying to get the thought out, isn’t he dead? Voldemort is dead! Harry Potter killed him! Well, yes, but haven’t I always said Voldemort must have a person to take over after he dies? A voice inside my head answers, Haven’t I always said there must be someone to take over if Voldemort dies? Yes, I have, I answer slowly, but if that person, or creature, is there, and is real, then why is him/her/it in my bedroom? Am I special? Hey, maybe this means I will go to Hogwarts! Well, back to the matter at hand. The cold hand. I decide to wiggle my toes a bit. So I do. I hear a high pitched, cold voice murmuring, ‘The girl is awake.’ So, as terrified as I am, I manage to scream ‘MOM! DAD! HELP!’ Of course, Mom and Dad wake up and run to my room right after the thing, whatever is is, gets over the shock of hearing me scream. I have a loud voice, believe me. “Silly child....” It murmurs.

I suddenly find myself sitting up in my bed. I have the feeling I’m forgetting something. I try to recall my dream, but the only thing I can remember is the word obliviate...

MTH: Chapter 3, Lady Clementine

'Ello!
Start with chapter 1 right here. Chapter 2 is also right here.

Lyion was reeling from Myra’s revelation. His father was behind, or at least authorized, the Great Massacre, the worst witch-craft hanging in Valmont’s history? It was said that a thousand people had been killed or hurt. No, it wasn’t possible. Lyion knew his father, and that man would not have done this. There was no way, whatsoever, that this was true. The villagers must have made it up. They must have somehow--forget that it was impossible--duplicated the royal seal. Myra sat down next to him, which was somehow comforting. Lyion hesitantly put his head on her shoulder, half expecting that she would leave. He was surprised when her hand came from nowhere and stroked his hair. So the infamous Kerri did have a heart.

“It happens, Lyion,” she said. Lyion was silent for a while, still trying to wrap his mind around the folder in his hands.

“Why did he have to do that Myra?” he asked. Then Lyion stopped. That wasn’t what he had meant to say. He wasn’t the son of a killer.

Myra looked at him with a tiny, miniscule glint of pity in her expression. “You don’t want to know.”

Lyion sat up and looked at Myra’s face. She looked back at him steadily. “How do you know so much about my family?” he asked slowly.

Her gaze focused into the distance.“I’ve been studying, just like your father.”

“What?!”

“Your father has been studying me, ever since he declared I was a criminal. And, well, a few weeks before he started studying me, I started studying him.”

Lyion looked at Myra in bewilderment. “How do you know he was studying you?” Not to mention why the two were studying each other in the first place.

“I have my ways,” she answered evasively.

Lyion suddenly thought of something. “Is that how you know so much about me too?”

Myra nodded. Lyion sat up, thinking. “Well, I guess I understand why you were studying me too. It’s because I’m next in line for the throne, right?”

Myra’s gaze flickered, but all she said was “yes.”

***

The trip back to the forest was uneventful and quiet. Lyion was too caught up in his thoughts to talk, and Myra was just letting him be. When they reached the rock where they had met earlier, Myra glanced at Lyion.

“See you later,” she said quietly.

Lyion frowned. “Where are you going?”

“I live in the forest, if that’s what you mean,” she answered. Her lips turned into a tiny smile as Lyion blushed.

“I knew that,” he muttered. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

***

Myra turned to look over her shoulder, and Lyion could see the suspicion in her gaze when she did. Then it disappeared, to be replaced with wary acceptance.

“Lyion.”

Lyion stepped out from behind the tree, having second thoughts. Why he followed her, he didn’t know. He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand, looking away. Although, before she did, Lyion thought he saw...amusement? No, he imagined it.

“I can’t tell you where I live.” Lyion looked at her in amazement. How did she know that was what he was going to ask?

“Oh.” He stared at his feet, “Okay then.” He glanced up, which was a mistake. Myra’s face registered surprise for a moment, then reverted to a careful blankness. She then turned away.

“Don’t you have an appointment with your father?” she asked. Lyion started. He had forgotten that his father had told him, a few days ago, to meet him in the ballroom today. Lyion hesitated before he left.

“Myra?” he asked tentatively, “What did you see when you looked at me in the eye just now?” Myra didn’t answer. Lyion walked up behind her. “Myra?”

She turned, glanced at him, and then left, disappearing into the trees.

***

Lyion trudged back to the palace, still wondering what Myra saw. When he got to his room, he cleaned up and dressed formally, as his father had insisted, and then went to the ballroom. King Albert was waiting at the foot of the great stairs, and Lyion decided he was being introduced to someone, as his father always made someone new walk down the stairs.

“Your Majesty.” Lyion said, bowing.

“Ah, Lyion! I wanted you to meet Lady Clementine of Aelcrest. Her father is thinking of joining us against Morbush.” Morbush, a kingdom to the south, was currently locked in a power struggle against Valmont and her eastern ally, Castle Lochiron. The king gestured at the top of the stairs. “Clementine!” A blonde haired girl around Lyion’s age walked down the great stairs with the poise and grace of a lady.

“Your Most Royal Majesty, Your Highness.” she said, curtsying to Albert and Lyion.

“It’s an honor, Lady Clementine,” Lyion said.

Clementine smiled at Lyion. “The honor is mine, and please, call me Clem. All my friends do.” Lyion nodded, amused at his father’s obvious fondness for the girl.

“Lyion, I would like you to show Lady Clementine around the palace and garden.”

“Of course. Do you wish to start now, Clem, or another time?”

Clem seemed to think, then said, “whatever you prefer, Your Highness.”

Lyion saw another admiring look on his father’s face and almost laughed.

“Oh no, you are the guest, after all. When would you prefer?”

“Later, than, if it is convenient.”

“Of course it is.”

Clem curtsied again, and then headed off to her room. Lyion, on the other hand, bowed to his father and then left for the bathroom before he could be held back. Of course, the bathroom was an excuse, and instead he went to the forest again. No one was there, of course, but Lyon couldn’t suppress the feeling that someone was watching him.

“Hello?” he called. No one answered. Lyion sat on the rock Myra had sat on before, thinking, wondering once again what Myra had seen in him that had surprised her. Where did she live, anyway? Why couldn’t she tell him? And what was it with that seal on the folder? How did the villagers even come up with the plot to do that? And how, in Glindra’s creativity, was Myra tied up in all of this? Lyion tried to remember which way Myra had gone, and headed off in that general direction. “Myra?” he whispered several times. “Myra, where are you?” No one answered, but Lyion just kept going, until, finally, he came upon something. Or someone, for that matter.

“Clem!”

Clem hurried to his side. “Your Highness! What are you doing here?”

Lyion shook his head. “I might ask you the same question!”

Clem blushed. “Well, I was looking for you, of course. Didn’t your father tell you to never go anywhere alone?”

Lyion glanced at her in puzzlement. “Why not? I’ve been here a lot, and nothing ever happened to me!”

Clem glanced around. “Didn’t you hear? Weren't you told? Kerri has come!”

Lyion gasped. They had found Myra! “K-Kerri’s here?!” he asked, masking his alarm.

“Yes! And, rumor is, she’s looking for you!”

Lyion’s eyes widened. “That’s a scary thought!”

Clem studied him carefully. “Come on, she might be here already!” She led the way through the forest, running towards the clearing where Lyion had met Myra earlier. When they reached the clearing, Clem and Lyion stopped to catch their breath. Before they began again, a voice called out.

“Hello.” Myra stepped out from the trees and looked at Clem. Lyion smiled, but, remembering just in time, hid it before Clem could see.

“W-who are you?” Clem asked, fear clear on her face. Myra tilted her head.

“Lyion knows who I am, Clem. You don’t have to pretend.”

The fear dropped from Clem’s face like a mask dropping to the floor. “Have you told him everything?”

Myra glanced at Lyion, who was gaping at both the girls. “What do you think?”

Clem smiled.“It’s great to see you again, Myra!”

They hugged each other as Lyion watched with his mouth open. Finally, he spoke.

“What’s going on?” Clem glanced at him as he looked at Myra, then at Myra with a raised eyebrow. Myra caught her look and nodded. “Clem and I are old friends.”

Lyion’s jaw dropped again.

“B-but...”

“Don’t try to understand it, just accept it,” Clem advised, then, to Myra, said, “I met the king today.” Myra nodded thoughtfully, although Lyion didn’t notice.

Lyion butted in. “How do you know I won’t tell the king what you guys are saying here?”

Clem smirked as her eyebrow went up again. “First of all, he wouldn’t believe you. I mean, would you believe it if your sister said she knew the most wanted criminal in Valmont, and then this lady you two just met--who he obviously likes, by the way--is her friend? And, second, if Myra trusts you, I trust you.”

“No. If I trust him and he passed the test.”

Clem nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”

Lyion was still confused. “What test? And who says my dad likes you?”

“How daft do you think I am?” Clem asked sarcastically. “Anyone could have been able to tell that he liked me.”

Myra raised her eyebrows. “And don’t you remember? I told you I was testing you and that you had passed. Today morning.”

“That was the test?!”

Clem laughed at the incredulous look on Lyion’s face, while Myra nodded, completely straight faced.

Then her expression changed again. Lyion was beginning to get annoyed from both the females’ constant reversals in demeanor.

“Clem,” she said quietly.

“Lyion?” Clem asked, equally calm. Myra gave a slight nod. Clem began pulling Lyion out of the forest with her without another question. He struggled, not wanting to leave Myra.

“Lyion, come on!” Clem hissed.

Lyion was about to refuse, when Myra said, “Go Lyion. I’ll be fine.” That was enough to let Clem pull him the last few feet so they couldn’t see Myra anymore. Then Lyion stopped struggling and sighed, willingly walking the rest of the way.

***

Myra disappeared into the trees after they left. She watched the path, waiting for them to appear. The ones who had been searching for her since she left her family, to bring her home, or so they said. Now they were the king’s friends, wanting to arrest her and get the reward money. If they were here, the king wasn’t far behind, which meant he suspected that Lyion had come to meet her, and that something happened to Clem. Ah, Clem. He trusted her too much. No one who knew Clem trusted her that much. But he didn’t trust Lyion, which was bad. Myra remembered reality when she heard the sound of soft footsteps. She was on alert immediately. A man appeared, looked around, and then shifted his foot. Myra saw his expectant look and realized something was going to happen. She slowly turned, looking up and down, to see if she could see anyone else. There! Through the trees, on her left, there were three others, searching for something.

Or someone.

Myra gave herself a slight smile, then creeped towards the intruders. This was her land. She had been hiding and watching here for seven months, learning the ways and paths of the forest by heart. No one else ventured in, unless they were traveling to see the king. Myra crept up a tree overhanging the three men, and watched, waiting for anything that would help her.

A few seconds later, one of the men thought he saw something on the ground. The other two men observed it, paying no attention to the slight shadow that jumped from above, landing behind them. A slight pressure on the windpipe, and then they woke up on the ground, memories of what had happened hazy.

Colors

Helllllo!

So, these are basically poems I wrote about different colors! Enjoy.

Purple

Purple is

an amethyst

sparkling in the sun

an inconspicuous flower

still unique

lilac or violet

or sweet periwinkle

daughter of blue and red

although a secondary color

still beautiful

a dot on a butterfly’s wing

a tinge on a mountain

cool and calm

dark and light

Emerald

Emerald is the color

of young bamboo shoots lifting in Chinatown

the gecko singing in the night

and the ilima bush opening in the garden

when I see the color emerald

lush grass

a polluted sea

gems sparkling in the dirt

come to mind

a jungle

right after a rainfall

a forest

full of noises

never silent

a “boy” color, they sneer

to the girl

writing a poem

about

emerald

Yellow

Yellow is brightness

A bright face, happiness shows

Yellow is a smile

Brown

A swinging monkey

with dark fur

a small girl

bronze skin, matching her hair

they meet in the dirt

the sand, the soil

and build with wood

the warmth of friendship

and brown

MTH: Chapter 2, The Unveiling

Hello again!

Read chapter 1 here.

Lyion woke the next day fresh and cheerful. He leapt out of bed and got dressed, then went to the dining room to eat breakfast with his father. King Albert was a cunning ruler, successfully balancing allies and rivals to preserve Valmont’s status as a peaceful and scholarly nation in the land of Druwald. Under his rule, Valmont had grown powerful and influential. However, with his efforts concentrated towards improving the kingdom, King Albert had grown farther and farther away from his son. As Lyion traveled through his teenage years without a father, or mother for that matter, and nobody else to turn to, he had begun to slowly turn away from what his father had taught him.

The king inquired about his son’s plans for the day before casually asking about whom Lyion had spent so much time with the day before, taking particular note of Lyion’s reaction--and evasive response--to the question. Albert reminded his son to be at the ballroom, smiling at the distracted nod that was his only response.

Lyion left breakfast in a very good mood, which lasted until he gave into his curiosity and went outside to look for Myra. Then he stopped, stumped. How in the world did his father know that he had spent time with someone? And how was he supposed to find Myra?

Lyion sat down, groaning, on a rock. He must have said something. He really had to curb his mouth. Did the king know who Myra was?

“Looking for me?” A voice said. Lyion jumped up, terrified, and spun around.

“Myra?” He asked in amazement. Myra was right in front of him, smirking. “Will you stop sneaking up on me?!”

“I’m sorry Lyion, but you looked so sad sitting on that rock, so I decided to have some fun. I really am sorry.”

Lyion raised an eyebrow, confused at Myra’s behavior. Yesterday she was so serious!

Myra noticed his look and her smirk disappeared. “You noticed I was acting different pretty fast,” she said thoughtfully.

Lyion stared at her in utter disbelief. “What was that for?” he asked.

Myra’s eyebrow drifted up the tiniest bit. “Just for fun. A sort of test.”

“And did I pass your sort of test?” Lyion asked, his expression mimicking Myra’s.

“Yes.”

Lyion rolled his eyes. “What were you doing in my bedroom yesterday?” he asked abruptly.

Myra sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Like how you know my name?”

Myra studied him, amusement once again speckled across her face. “Yes.”

Lyion groaned. “Why won’t you tell me anything? I won’t tell anyone else, if you don’t want me to.”

“I’m not questioning that you can keep a secret, I’m wondering if you will,” she said.

Lyion looked at her in a why-wouldn’t-I-manner. Her mouth twitched up a little, although her expression still held...hesitation? Then the moment disappeared, and she spoke with no humor.

“Because you already know me.”

Lyion frowned. “No I do--”

“Lyion, you’ve known me for years,” Then she seemed to think of something. “And if you really want to know who I am, I’ll tell you. But I’m warning you, you won’t like it.” Lyion studied her for a long time, raking his eyes over her medium length black hair (in a ponytail again), her curious eyes, the way she hid what she was thinking (although he had a feeling she was still very amused by something).

Then, he finally spoke.

“Tell me.”

Myra’s eyes had a definite glint of approval.

“Well then, brace yourself, ‘cause you won’t like this.” She was suddenly more open, like Lyion had earned her respect.

Lyion closed his eyes, half not believing it could be so bad, half scared about who Myra really was.

“You would know me not as Myra, but as...hmm...what do you guys call me?” She sounded thoughtful. Then, “Ah yes, I believe you call me Kerri?”

Lyion’s eyes flew open, astonished. Myra couldn’t mean Kerri, could she? Kerri, who was a refuge from a distant planet (distant galaxy, they say), and had come to live here five, almost six, years ago? Kerri, who authorities had started to track almost two years ago? Lyion gaped at Myra. Look at the way she was tracking his reactions even now!

He started to back away, his face, although he did not know it, terrified. Kerri was a monster. She was...evil. She was horrible, vile, a monster…

Lyion’s scrambled thoughts began to spiral in another direction. Wait, but why (how?) would (could?) she be here? This was the palace for Ryrith’s tricks! Nobody could get in without inside help or others knowing. Was his father really behind this, trying to trick her into revealing something important? After all, the king wouldn’t let somebody dangerous near the heir to the kingdom, his heir!

And if she was actually dangerous? Well, she had very aptly demonstrated her speed and how she could out-react anything he could try the previous day.

Lyion suddenly paused. If this really was Kerri...well. His father, his old nurse, all the servants...nobody would tell him why she was being hunted. This irked him. Lyion was the crown prince, after all, and he was usually one of the first to know about things that had to do with the kingdom, especially important things.

Either in helplessness or curiosity (he wasn’t sure which), Lyion decided to play along, wondering if it was his father or Ke- uh, Myra who was running the show.

“I’m sorry Lyion.” The girl’s voice jolted him back to reality.

He shook his head, pretending to be in shock. “A-are you telling the truth?” he croaked. She nodded, but Lyion could see hints of suspicion in her expression. He had never been a good actor.

“Yes. I won’t pretend not to know why a lot of people don’t like me. But--” Myra studied Lyion for a moment before going on, Lyion trying to present a neutral facade. “Two years ago, your grandfather died, right?”

He nodded, somehow knowing that he would not like where this was leading.

“So, two years ago, your father was made king. And I was named a criminal after the coronation, along with a lot of others. So,” her voice became the tiniest bit gentler, “Your father was the one who made us criminals.” Lyion shook his head, about to speak. “And Lyion, you might not want to know this, but your father was the one who started the Great Massacre, and he knew it wasn’t needed, so he killed a lot of people for no reason.”

Lyion stared at her with his mouth open for a moment. “No, no, you’re lying,” he finally managed. “My father wasn’t, isn’t, a bad person. He’s the king, for Ryril’s tongue!” Lyion glared at Myra, who muttered something under her breath.

“I can prove it to you,” she continued, ignoring his snort. “Come with me.” She walked in the direction of where Lyion was pretty sure the village was, glancing back at him when he didn’t move. “Come on!”

Lyion stared after her in disbelief. The nerve of that girl! But, to his annoyance, he still followed her. He was going to kill whichever of his parents had passed on his curiosity. And anyway, no matter how bad a person Myra was, she could never put him in any real danger, at least as long as they were in public.

A few minutes later, they reached the village. Lyion glanced curiously at everything, as the last time he had been there had been a few years ago. He followed Myra to a building that stood out because of its large(er) size, and they walked inside. Lyion frowned as he realised it was a library. His confusion turned into sadness as Myra spoke to him.

“This is the biggest library in Brookwood.” Lyion silently compared it to the libraries in the palace, which were easily three or four times bigger, then followed Myra to the front desk. “Hi Lorie,” she said, and Lyion couldn’t help but notice that her tone was much more friendly than the one that she had used to speak to him. The woman behind the desk smiled at her.

“Hello Myra! Who is your friend?” Lorie glanced at Lyion.

“This is Peter. I wanted to show him something,” Myra answered smoothly.

“Well, what do you need today?”

“May I borrow the key to the back?” she asked politely. Lorie’s smile disappeared as she glanced quickly at Lyion.

“All right,” she said slowly, bending down to get something. When she straightened up, Lorie handed Myra a small, brass key. Lyion couldn’t help but notice that it was worn, and looked old.

“Thanks.” Lyion followed Myra as she led him to the very back of the library. She pulled out a small stone that was in the lower right part of the backwall, and Lyion saw that behind it was a simple keyhole. The key was inserted and turned, and then pulled on. A small door slowly opened, and Lyion stared wondrously into the lighted hallway behind it.

“What is this place?!” he asked in amazement.

“The villagers have been making and hiding books and documents that are kept secret for years now. This is where they keep them. You can’t tell anyone, okay? If the wrong people find out, most of these people will get in huge trouble.” Myra glanced at Lyion with a serious look on her face, only moving when he nodded, somewhat scared at her expression.

They walked down the long hallway, passing many doors, until they reached one the had some graffiti on it. Lyion raised an eyebrow, but walked inside.

“Don’t touch anything,” Myra cautioned, before she started skimming the titles in front of her. Lyion glanced around, noticing that this room seemed to be hated, as there was quite a lot of graffiti and mold everywhere. He also noticed, however, that the documents and books were very well kept. “Here.” Lyion started. Myra was holding out a folder, a faint smile on her face. “You can sit over there,” she said, pointing to a small cluster of stools. Lyion nodded, already opening the folder. When he was right next to one of the stools, he paused.

Then he reread something.

Then paused again.

Slowly, the meaning of what he was looking at entered his brain. He sat down heavily, shattered. In his hands were the records of the Great Massacre. And at the bottom was affixed a very familiar seal--that of the king.

I am the Goddess of Words...

Hi again!!

Um...I was having fun using big words in an overly dramatic essay for school?...


The goddess laughed harshly, favoring the bold girl with a gander. I smile. That captures it nicely! Now I just need to make sure Athena doesn’t see it, otherwise she will surely destroy my latest piece of writing. When I was younger, growing up with a mortal family, I had always loved to read. As I grew older, I was introduced to the idea that I could write stories like the ones I love, whose origins I had never really thought of. My love of words, and English in general, has only grown since then, along with the number of stories I have read and written. I am the goddess of words, worshipped by the Greek mortals. I deserve the title of goddess of words because I can speak many languages, I am loquacious, and I am quite skilled at convincing mortals that what I am saying is veritable.

The first quality that leads to me being the goddess of words is fluency in many languages. “Arey yaar! Mi computadora…” I mutter, exasperated. I have always used English, Spanish, and Hindi interchangeably at home. English is, of course, my first language, but it seems like I started learning Hindi at the same time. Both my parents are from India, an occurrence that led to my family visiting every year and a half or so. Because of this, and the fact that they often talk in Hindi at home, I slowly picked up this precise language. With Spanish, I must kudize my siblings and a show I used to idolize called Dora the Explorer. From Dora, the main character of this show, I learned the basics, like, “hello,” and, “goodbye,” and, “let’s go!” I also learned some Spanish from my siblings, who were both taking it in middle and high school. As I learned more and more, from my siblings and, later, school, I started to descry similarities between Hindi and Spanish. For example, tú, which means you in Spanish, has the exact same meaning in Hindi. This aspect is very important for my divinity, because I am able to communicate with many different people. It is also important that I know so many languages, considering that I will be able to understand similar languages as well.

The second trait is that I am voluble. I can, and often do, speak for quite a while. I am able to converse with anyone from the most rowdy elephant to the most taciturn mouse. This is very important to me, because I wouldn’t be much of a goddess of words if I never talked to anybody! When I was little, I used to live in a mortal region called California. I remember one day meeting two girls, sisters, at a party. The older sister was as talkative as I was, and we chatted unremittingly. Soon, though, I noticed that her younger sister was very quiet, and looked a little out of place. I suddenly turned to her and started speaking, asking questions about everything, from school to favorite books. Presently, she began to react to my words, and, by the end of the party, we were communing like old friends.

The third, and last, facet of my adroitness is the ability to sway my audience. This trick is especially useful because I can convince mortals to worship and give offerings to the other gods and goddesses, and naturally me. I can also persuade the other immortals that yes, I am perfect for the title of goddess of words. In the second grade, when I used to live in the territory of Oregon, I would often find childish pleasure in convincing my friends to make me things in our free time. If they did, they would earn a star. I recall that at the end of the year, I had so many ‘gifts’ to take home!

I am the goddess of words because I am learned in many languages, excellent at conversing, and very convincing. I have always pondered if, someday, I would be able to coalesce all, or the most well-known, of the languages of the world into one, universal tongue. Maybe, with this language, I could change the future, or past, with my lucid words, by convincing time that what I am saying is what happened or will happen. Perhaps one day I will be able to convince Kronos to rest, to slow down, to stop trying to come back for a few centuries. And so, once again, she saved Olympus, with just her mighty words.