My Xalale was a daring one. He had the spirit of my sister, Erinna, and with a spirit like that, it could stir mischief that one would wish not to uncover.

   It was usual for him to play out in the forest behind the palace, but I always warned him not to run too far from sight. He would always promise to stay close but would often play with the animals in the forest, which he considered his friends, and be drawn in further than I'd allow.

   Most days, I would turn a blind eye to it too consumed with my duties to be bothered chiding him. It was the same on that day as he ran off in the morning to play while I prepared to hear grievances from the people.

   There weren't many that day- there weren't most days; the people learned what I wanted them to easy enough. I barely took notice of the faces that entered the room, my mind was often pondering other thoughts. But early in the hearings, one case took me aback.

    The guards escorted in a man who leaned heavily upon a knobby staff with a tattered cloak dragging along the ground, fraying at the edges. Immediately, I wanted to dismiss him as a common beggar but something about him made me watch him as he pulled himself along with great effort to the foot of my throne.

    "My queen," He knelt in a pathetic heap before me. "I-I come to you humbly- without expectation of mercy on me-"

    Though his voice was as brittle as a leaf in the harvest season, I felt I knew it from somewhere past. Then, it struck me.

    As he rambled on, my clear, steady voice ceased his mumblings.

    "Esteban Caskla."

    His face craned up to behold me then his eyes immediately fell back to the ground in shame.

    I stood up from my seat, my lips pressed thin as I looked down on him.

    Though his hair was no longer russet waves that flowed bountifully nor his face as youthfully ruddy, I could still remember that face, that clever voice hidden underneath.

    I stepped down, approaching him slowly. He quaked at my presence, quickly retreating but tripping over his cloak and falling back like an old fool.

    "It is you, isn't?" I asked patiently as he recovered. "You remember me, don't you? Aelita Domshov?"

    He wouldn't meet my eyes, he refused, but he spoke up in a wispy voice.

    "Yes, I do, your Majesty."

    Lines creased my face as I studied him, wondering where that strapping, eager youth so determined in his quest to win my sister's affection went.

    "What is your grievance?"

    "I-I have no grievance, your Majesty, but rather- rather a humble request from the lowest of your subjects."

    "Go on."

    For the briefest second, he glanced up at me then returned to the icy stone floor.

    "My son...he is at Death's door and- and I don't know what to do. I've searched near and far, desperate to save him. He's all I got." He stifled his emotions. "There's a panacea tonic held by a healer which would cure my boy, but it's...it's very costly, more than I have. There isn't much time left, your Majesty, but I am prepared to trade everything to obtain the cure to his ailment."

    I rested against the arm of my throne, listening to him with interest.

    "He is your only offspring? Your only family left?"

    He nodded meekly. "Yes, my everything."

    A long, drawn out silence passed. So long, he glanced up slightly to see what things I pondered. As I looked down at him again he returned his gaze to where it belonged.

    "Esteban, rise."

    He did as I commanded of him.

    "How much is the elixir?"

    "It is 400 shillings."

    A steep price to pay for a life.

    "I will help you, as an old friend."

    He quivered with restrained joy.

    Calling forth a guard, I requested a certain box containing the vial that I sought. While my command was being followed, I approached my old acquaintance again.

    "What is your son's name?"

    "Frido."

    "How old is he?"

    "He'll be ten next month, if the Fates allow."

    Though he was a far cry from his youth days, there laid a distinguished heart, a father's love for his son. It made me wonder, made me think. Would Dhisnaek do that for his son? Would he journey the world- charted and uncharted- tireless without rest to save his son's life? I'd like to think so, but he never knew his son so the thoughts die in my mind.

   The guard returned promptly, handing over the wooden coffer with the priceless elixir inside. I held the box for a moment, checking to see everything was in order before bestowing it upon Esteban.

   "I can't begin- I won't ever be able to repay you for your kindness," He stuttered, jubilant.

   "No need. Now go."

    I turned to ascend to my throne once more, taking a seat as he rushed to the door. He paused to look up at me with eyes I recognized.

   "Thank you, your Majesty. May the Fates bless you tenfold."

   With that, he departed from the room.

   Leaning back in my seat, I rested my eyes, my voice barely audible as I spoke-

   "They already have."

   I let a slight smile curl up my lips as I pictured him running through the door to his distressed son's side, propping him up to take the substance only to be horrified by the results. The look of shock on his face as his son would be burned internally was one I wished to witness but could only envision in my mind. Perhaps, if he didn't give it all to his son, he himself would put the vial to his lips and join in the pain, writhing on the floor until it had consumed him as well.

   He should thank me, though. I gave him what he needed, something to end his son's and his own pain in this world. What was the point of pressing on in such a miserable way?

   From that day onward, Esteban Caskla was a thought no more to me.

The lines of concern etched deeper on my face as I peered into Xalale's empty room. All was too quiet; the silence was unsettling.

   It had begun to get late and supper was only an hour away yet there was no sign of my Xalale. He was usually in before the retreating sun cast shadows on the forest- for he was afraid of the dark- but I had heard no word from him.

   Upon seeing his room empty, I went to find the one other person he spent most of his time with.

   Swethyna was tidying a room in the west wing, ready to retire to the quarter's when I intercepted her.

   "Do you know where Xalale is?" Though my voice was never one to reveal my worries, my expression was another ordeal.

   She set aside her duster. "No, he hasn't visited me all day. Is something the matter? Is he gone astray?"

   "Nothing that concerns you." I retorted sharply.

    She shrunk back, remembering her place. No matter how close she was to my Xalale, she was not his mother so she had no reason to worry over his welfare like one.

    I left her, then, my worry morphing into what I prayed it wouldn't.

    Journeying outside, I went into the forest- something I rarely ever did- and searched high and low for him. When I called out, he would not answer- all was as silent as within the palace.

    I would not have left the forest without him, I could not bring myself to do it. If I had to search all night I would do so without complaint. But I would not have to wonder the fate of my son, for the moment I took note of the fresh hooves on the ground I knew what I had to do.

   "Fetch my horse," I told the guard who accompanied me.

   He did as I commanded and went, in haste, to retrieve a mare.

   In my heart, I knew trouble had gotten to him. Though fear wrapped its tendrils around me, one thought resonated through my mind as I mounted upon the mare; I would find my son and make his assailant suffer.

   Night had fallen by the time I set out, which made it difficult to follow the markings on the road, but I trusted that whoever had taken him was journeying along the road.

   I kept my mind on two constant thoughts, finding Xalale safe and making his abductor pay dearly. If I kept my thoughts on those two crucial points, I felt as though I traveled faster through the suffocating darkness that edged around me.

    Traveling through the night, I prayed that they might have tarred somewhere. Even as the faintest tips of pale color began spreading through the hostile night sky I continued forward, relentless. I had only given the mare two brief breaks during the flight as I was in no mood to stop.

   Up ahead, though the lighting was poor, I could see the outline of a horse tied to a tree. Approaching closer, I could see a burnt out fire with a small kettle hanging over the ashes and a thin, worn blanket that had been kicked to the side in a hurry.

   The mare had barely stopped before I hastily dismounted and rushed to the area.

   Out of the corner of my eye, something new caught my attention. A frayed rope, cut and discarded to the side. I crept over the pile of rope to inspect it but my attention was yet again distracted, this time by the sound of leaves in the distance being shuffled.

    I wasted no time hurrying toward the sound of the struggle. Just beyond, I could see the silhouettes of two people, one was looming over a smaller, more frightened one- my Xalale.

    The man standing over him held a knife in one hand, that I could see, and he raised it and his voice in anger.

   "-little bastard! I'm gonna slit your throat."

   Even before I was close enough, I reacted with one swift, fluid motion of my hand, sending the cold surge at him. The brute didn't even see it strike him.

   With the threat in a frozen state, I rushed to my Xalale's side and he wasted no time clinging to me. I could feel his tremors as I held him close.

   "I'm so glad you're safe. Are you okay, are you hurt?" I could begin to breathe again, peace residing over me.

    As I tilted his head ever so slightly to inspect him he drew back a little in pain. He was hurt but it didn't appear grave.

    We said nothing on the journey home. I merely grateful he was alive. We rode back on the frozen man's horse, my tired one walking behind.

    The sun had lifted into the sky by the time we arrived safely back at the palace. Though he claimed he wasn't tired, I made him rest most of the day then visited him that night as he prepared for bed.

    I knew he wouldn't like what I was going to tell him but I didn't want something like what had occurred to repeat itself.

   "Xalale. I would feel better if you didn't play so far from the palace now on. Stay where someone can see you."

   He looked up at me and nodded obediently, "Okay, momma."

    There was no disappointment, no complaining, merely understanding. Perhaps he was just as frightened to stray too far as well.

    I kissed him a tender goodnight then left him to sleep.

   Xalale was my everything and nothing would ever separate me from him. He was the only thing I had left.

Those days with my Xalale were some of the brightest in my life, but for a soul like me, there must be uncertainty on the horizon. This new stumblingblock, though, would be my undoing.

   I rested my eyes, awaiting the next complainant due before me. Usually, I expected to hear either shackles or the trembling of bone against bone brought before me, but as the doors open a new sound caught my attention immediately.

   I could recognize the sound of a bold individual just by their footing and this one resounded with confidence and power.

    "I come with a cautionary warning, my queen."

    My eyes were opened, beholding an aged woman who stood erect, her faded burgundy hair trailing over her shoulder like a blazing witch. Her deep set eyes were surrounded by the lines of age and concentration. I knew exactly who this woman was, what she was.

    Sitting more rigidly in my seat, my voice came out sharper than a blade's edges.

   "Who are you to come so boldly before me without any introduction?"

   The woman was unfazed by my tone. She stretched out a bony finger towards me.

   "Such a woman of promise so far from her potential."

    I began to come down from my throne, the ice in my veins colder than before.

   "My potential has been achieved, whether you believe it or not."

   "So you tell yourself." She lowered her finger, her voice becoming steady yet still voluminous. "You lie to yourself every day, you defend your cruel deeds. Why must you twist your gift into heartache? Why must you crush your people- the people you came from- under your heel?"

    She appeared earnest in her questioning so I let some of my anger lurk dormant under my usual phlegmatic demeanor.

    "You said you came with a cautionary warning. What is the warning?"

    Her face became pressed as her dark, raven eyes regarded me.

    "I once came across a tree whose base was rotten and whose leaves were dead but it's root remained. I saw it and said 'This tree lives'. I then came across another tree, a mightier one with rich leaves and a strong, sturdy base, but its roots were bitter and dead. I said about that one 'This tree is dead'."

    I was no stranger to cynical lessons. Though she was provoking my anger, I sought control of my voice as I spoke tightly.

   "Your warning is heeded. Now you may leave me be."

   The sibyl stepped closer, her face still unmoved in the face of my contained wrath. Her words were edged, purposeful.

   "Now I look at you and say 'This tree has always been dead, there are no roots for it kills everything around it.'"

    "Do you have no value of your life." I seethed.

    She was firm, never wavering.

    "The Fates blessed you with everything and you destroyed everything and everyone. You were as high on the mountain as one could go, brushing the fingertips of the Fates, but now," Her eyes hardened against me. "Now you will descend from the mountaintop."

    I was never one to let words stir in me such a violent maelstrom but this sibyl's words struck me like a dagger to the heart.

    "The Fates have retreated their favor from you and have doomed you to fall. Your descent will be swift yet prolonged before you arrive at the valley. You will fall, not by the hands of an enemy or greater evil than yourself but by the hands of the one you raise."

    For a brief moment, the fire within me froze and I stared at her, mute. Immediately, I wanted to deny it, to force the part of me that knew what she was talking about to surrender such a heinous idea. But denial could bring me no relief.

   "You will fall by the hand of your son."

   The outpouring of my rage was great. The floor below me froze so deeply it cracked.

   "You are a damned, foolish old crone." I lifted my hand, the ice forming in my grasp.

   Still, the sibyl was unfazed. "No. You are a damned woman in the eyes of the Fates and if you set a hand against their messenger you will be a marked woman in their eyes, more than you already are."

    Though the anger burned without cease inside me I knew better than to strike out against one whose service was to the Fates. I let the ice dissolve in my hand, but allowed my glare to be crippling.

    She stood defiantly for a moment in my presence before finally turning to head toward the door. Watching her depart, I was silent in my choler. I knew that if I were to command a guard to kill her, none would do so; the only thing they feared more than me was the wrath of the Fates upon them.

    She was gone as quickly as she came, only I was left with a curse against my name. I could not return to my throne for I had to pace about the floor, wearing my thoughts to a null.

    A descent from the mountaintop...given to me by my own flesh, my only treasure in the world. He would be the one to push me from my glory. It could not be so.

    I remained in thought even as the sun set and supper came and went. By nightfall, I knew he'd be waiting for me, wondering where I was. I couldn't keep him in his worries.

    The corridors were darker than before but I kept my ill thoughts to my own cursed mind as I entered his room.

    I was surprised to see him sound asleep in his bed, his face relaxed. For a moment, I stood by the door, only allowing a sliver of silver moonlight to rush in.

    "You will fall, not by the hands of an enemy or greater evil than yourself but by the hands of the one you raise."

    My steps were hushed as I made my way to his side. Brushing aside his hair, I kissed his head with the feathery brush of a fluff in the summer season- he hardly stirred at my touch.

    "You will fall by the hand of your son."

    It was impossible. I would not- could not- believe such words, even if the Fates spoke it to me directly. My Xalale would not be the fall of me, it was not so.

    As I stood to leave, I glanced back at my flesh, my everything.

    No, he could never be my destruction.