O.C. Writers

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The Atlantean Empire by Elisabetta Panzica

A looking-glass hung on the far corner of the sanctuary, just above the altar. Ancient texts lay in stacks over it. Candles and sweet-smelling herbs in small metal bowls lay next to the books. One of the temple birds, a falcon, circled the altar, screeching. Sahar slammed her fist into the looking glass, shattering it.

Little shards of glass peeled off the main board and slashed her knuckles. She stared at her bloodied hand, then at the glass. She had defaced the house of Atlanmu; her cheeks burned with shame. She stared into the glass, avoiding her reflection, nails digging into her palms. It would take all the courage and strength in her to get through this day.

“You’re weak! Why don’t you stand up to them?” She screamed at her fractured reflection, sobbing, wiping the blood from her hands. A thousand pairs of green eyes glared back at her, long brown hair like a mesh of webs refracted across shards of glass. Was this who she was? Someone with so many faces, so many lives, she couldn’t even piece them together enough to know who she really was? Had her soul been broken that many times?

It certainly felt that way.

Sahar’s stomach tightened, feeling as if her intestines had been tied into a thousand knots. She was pregnant. Nobody knew, except her regents, her grandmother and granduncle. She had never truly gotten along with her granduncle, and sometimes she didn’t even like him very much. Grandmother was different. She understood, cared about her, about her feelings. She even liked Nahik, the father of her child, and approved of him, even though Nahik had joined the enemy, and become a renegade.

Sahar wasn’t proud of what happened, hadn’t actually planned on it. She simply wanted the freedom to make her own choice, to marry the man she loved. But her uncle would have none of it. He told her that as a public figure, she did not have that option. So he made the choice for her. Unfortunately, as her regent he was still in control. She would not come into full reign until her twenty-first year, even so, she would be crowned Queen that day.

Sahar was only half Atlantean from her father’s side. Her father had been Atlantis’ most beloved ruler. He had lost his life in battle, fighting for the right of Atlanteans everywhere to continue living on the blue sphere. Her mother was Lemurian which was where she got her olive toned skin. Her mother had died giving birth to her. She had always wanted a mother. Sahar frowned. Her parents would have understood, would have allowed her to choose.

It was the custom of the Atlantean monarchy to marry on the day of their coronation. The ceremonies occurred one after the other, and the festivities lasted all week. The rituals often coincided with the Festival of the Sun and opened with the much acclaimed Dance of Maidens, in which the young women of the court were presented as members of their community and given to their new Queen in lifelong service to her.

Sahar walked along the corridor, tracing the stone wall with the tips of her fingers. The rock crystal seemed to have its own inner light, capturing the power of the sun. Over time, Atlanteans had learned to harness it as an energy source, and today at noon the sun would send a single ray through the center of the pyramid, uniting heaven and earth. It happened every year, when the sun reached its zenith on the Solstice.

Although one of the most common minerals in the world, the crystal rock seemed fantastical, as if conjured from a fairy tale. It felt rough against her skin as she leaned against it. For the first time in seventeen years, Sahar really noticed the magnificent images adorning it. So many times before she had simply taken them for granted. Images carved into the wall of the great God Atlanmu, coupled with drawings depicting the island’s history. The Temple of Light was the most stunning place of worship in all of Atlantis, and it was her home.

Sahar jumped at the sound of sandals slapping against the marble floor. It was her uncle. He had probably come from the garden on the west wing, where the guests were beginning to gather. It was where the coronation would take place. Sahar stiffened as the old man neared.

“Still upset, I see. Sahar, why can’t you understand?” He swatted the air with his left hand, sighing heavily and narrowing his eyes. “We do this for Atlantis, Sahar. We sacrifice our lives because we have been called to do so,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. Capricorn noticed her injured knuckles and took her hands in his. Sahar immediately pulled back, scowling.

“I don’t want to sacrifice my life, Uncle.” Sahar lifted her gaze. “Why don’t you sacrifice yours?” Her eyes were red. He didn’t understand. Couldn’t.

“I already have, child. I already have.” Capricorn’s gray eyes looked into hers, piercing, haunting. Yellow specks splattered across his irises shone like tiny lights, reflecting, as his gaze locked on hers. He shook his head and took her hand. “We are giving your child a chance,” he said, glaring down at her still flat belly. “If the truth is uncovered, you and your child will be put to death, Sahar. So it is not only for duty that you wed, but for your child’s life.”

Sahar yanked her hand back, pulling away. “I don’t care if they kill us!” she shouted, knowing that everything he said was true. She knew the High Council of Rulers would condemn a Queen whose loyalties were unclear, whose heart belonged to a traitor.

“You are marrying Telemitri. You can shout and cry all you like, get angry, but Atlantis awaits this union, Princess. Can you hear them out there? You are my niece, my brother’s daughter. I raised you. Don’t you think I’m looking out for your best interests?” Capricorn lowered his head until his chin touched his chest, and then lifted his gaze. “I love you,” he said, the color draining from his face.

Sahar stared for a moment, not knowing what to say. Of course she loved him too, but not today, she swallowed, collecting herself, remembering her fury.

“An admirable performance.” She frowned, clapping her hands softly. “I almost believed you. But you created this arrangement. Nobody else.” She looked at him, her face red, cheeks wet. She slammed the holy text to the ground and kicked the altar, pounding on it with her fists.

“The opening ceremony is about to begin. Get ready for the dance.” Capricorn said, his voice harsh but controlled. “We don’t have all day. Wash your face, make yourself presentable. And in the name of all the gods, dress yourself, woman,” he added dryly.

Was he ordering her? Scolding her? It sounded that way. Sahar wiped the tears from her eyes. She didn’t feel like dancing.

Capricorn turned and walked away leaving her standing at the altar, deflated, feeling defeated. She hated that he was so demanding and controlling, that she couldn’t defy him, that nobody could. He was her guardian and uncle, Master and High Priest of the Temple. The unofficial ruler of the island. But not for long, she narrowed her eyes, tonight she would be Queen.