Tentyrian Legacy (6 page)

“Yes,” replied Hathor with an edge in her
voice. “Liberating for how long? You have not seen the visions I
have. I have seen a time when we are hunted for our powers, the
secrets that lie in our blood, and for what we ultimately will be
seen as and called—vampires.”

“Stavros and I don’t mind the label. It is
you that do, Hathor,” said Calix.

“It is not just Hathor that minds,” spoke
Evander, the leader of Pisces. Now married to Zoe, leader of
Aquarius, their two Covens had merged into one, and together they
governed with the same honor and love they bestowed on each other.
Their son, Galen, was nine years old. “I believe I speak for the
majority of the clan when I say that we know what we are and what
we are not. We are Tentyrian first and foremost. The stories of
vampires are dramatizations about killers. And we aren’t that. We
take what blood we need to survive. When we feed, we always ensure
that our hosts are unharmed and have no recollection. We honor the
Code.”

Zoe held her husband’s hand and said in
earnest, “If we were to fight, reveal our powers and what we truly
are—just imagine what those stories will become. The few humans
outside of Tentyris who know what we are capable of have spread
rumors like wildfire. Thankfully, we have the ability to wipe those
memories and quell the talk. But we all know we can’t stop them
forever. In the last five years, more than a few scarce whispers
have reached Auletes’ ear, which has likely spurred his interest in
destroying us. Everything that we stand for and the Code that we’ve
pledged to follow over one hundred years ago will be for naught
should we choose to fight. We don’t want to live in fear that our
children will be hunted. A sentiment I’m sure you all can relate
to.”

Many of the Zodiac Council members were
mothers and fathers. Safely under the watchful eyes of their
Guardians and Covens, their children remained blissfully unaware of
the changes to come. Daria looked to Aristos as she thought of
their ten-year-old son, Darrius. They’d left him just an hour ago,
wrestling with his Guardian Ammon. Eager to be the honored fighter
like his father, Darrius rarely put down his play sword and shield.
It was a constant struggle to keep him out of a scrape and in clean
clothes. Thankfully, like all Tentyrian children, he had a Guardian
to help keep tabs on him. Her little boy was quickly becoming a
warrior, though Daria prayed he would never need to be one.

Phoebe thought of her twin babies, tucked
snugly in their cradles at home, while their doting father,
Claudius, rocked them. Their Guardian, Tale, was undoubtedly
hovering. Tale wouldn’t leave the twins’ side for more than a
minute, should they want for anything. As a Luminary and wife to a
former mortal, Phoebe understood both sides of the coin. She and
her husband’s love surpassed their physical differences. After much
deliberation, Phoebe changed Claudius at his request. It was not a
decision to be made lightly; it was physically painful, arduous,
and required unanimous agreement by the Council.

Phoebe knew the potential dangers Tentyris
faced by making a stand. She also knew there was potential for them
to continue to co-exist peacefully with humans. After all, they
weren’t that much different. The question was—could they continue
to coexist by remaining in Tentyris? In her heart, she knew it was
not to be.

Calypso imagined her five-year-old daughter,
Ceres, probably playing in her makeup by now, waiting for Calypso
to come home. Ceres was Calypso’s crown jewel, and while she would
do anything to protect her, the pain of losing Hector slaked her
thirst for revenge. She needed time to think and consult with
Alexander. Her husband always knew how to calm her with reason. And
lately she felt like she was losing her ability to think
rationally. Being married to a Luminary wasn’t easy, but Alexander
took it in stride. Alexander was second-generation Tentyrian like
her. Their ten-year marriage was just the beginning of what they
planned for as eternity.

Narcissa, the Fourth Luminary, wasn’t
married, but she cared for her little nieces and nephews like they
were her own. Her sisters and mother were her best friends, the
Council of the Zodiac her family. She couldn’t imagine a world
where they weren’t together or where

Tentyris didn’t exist. Yet she knew they
would not be safe if they stayed.

Damian and Karis looked at each other
knowingly as they sat on their shared stone bench. Married for
twenty years, the Scorpio and Virgo leaders governed a blended
Coven that their four-year-old daughter, Calandra, happily knew as
her family and protectors. To put their daughter in danger was
their greatest fear. However, they wanted her to grow up in their
homeland.

“Evander and Zoe, would you rather we do
nothing?” said Stavros to the Pisces and Aquarius Coven
leaders.

“We don’t believe aggression is the answer,”
retorted Evander. Damian rose to Stavros’ side and asked, “What do
you all propose then?”

“We propose we leave,” responded Zoe with
resoluteness.

“I can’t support that decision when I know we
have no reason to,” challenged Stavros. “Who here feels this way?
Let us take an informal vote. Say aye if you believe we should
leave.” Seven ayes followed. “Calix, Aglaia, Asia, Damian, Karis,
and Calypso, I see that you don’t support abandoning Tentyris,
along with me. To the rest of you, why are you so quick to fold? By
the gods’ good graces we are basically immortal. Yet you want to
flee in fear of the mortals? The mortals who are thankless for all
that we have done for them?”

Daria stood to face Stavros. The same zodiac
pendant that hung on a gold chain around her neck, as it did from
her sisters’ and mother’s, twinkled in defiance.

“Stavros, it is true that if it weren’t for
our presence, there would surely be thousands more poverty-stricken
Egyptians,” said Daria. “All of our laborers are well taken care
of. Not to mention we’re the only legitimate source of medical help
throughout the Sixth Nome. And while we may not always receive the
thanks we deserve, their blood gives us life. That life coexists in
a balance with the humans. If we overturn that balance, the outcome
may not be in our favor . . . as my mother has already seen.”

Stavros’ ice-blue eyes turned directly to
Hathor as he addressed the Council. “Hathor has said it herself.
Her visions and the future are not absolute. They are also not as
dependable as they once were now, are they?” Hathor held her anger.
It hurt to hear Stavros’ dig at her recent inability to call her
sight to her. But it was true. A prevailing weakness plagued her,
and more often than not, she had headaches rather than visions.

Her headaches were not the same as those she
had experienced when first finding her sight, or even those she
knew Daria and the other telepaths often experienced due to the
energies they were so sensitive to. It was something more. Hathor
knew deep down that she was dying. It was a miracle she was able to
put together the fragments of her recent vision to finally see
Auletes’ involvement in Hector’s death and predict her own
demise.

“If I may interrupt,” said Aglaia lightly. “I
hardly think Stavros is saying we abandon the Code, overturn the
Ptolemaic dynasty, and appoint ourselves leaders.” Hathor,
meanwhile, wasn’t so sure that Stavros wasn’t thinking that. Aglaia
continued: “My twin and I are in agreement that the balance needs
to be reset, which doesn’t need to involve us leaving
Tentyris.”

“Yes. But what does ‘resetting’ it mean to us
and our Covens?” asked Hathor.

“It means revenge for father,” said
Calypso.

“It means freedom from pacifying an
incompetent king,” Calix answered.

“It means unleashing our real power and for
once being who we are!” proclaimed Stavros.

“It means showing that we are superior,”
intoned Maximos.

Hathor was taken aback by Maximos’ bold
statement. It was unlike him to tout the superiority of Tentyrians
over humans. She could understand that grief was dictating
Calypso’s emotions. She could even understand Stavros and
Calix—they had always wanted more freedom. But Maximos believed in
and deeply respected the Code, which he helped craft. Why the
sudden change of heart?

Maximos continued: “Showing that we are
superior means being superior in mind, body, and spirit. If that is
what we are, as Stavros believes, our kind can thrive anywhere.
This has been our home for over a century. But why hold onto
something that is crumbling? We know this land is on the verge of
revolution. If we fight now and take down Auletes openly, there
will surely be many more battles to come. We have been given the
gift of eternity. Let us use that gift. Unlike the humans, we are
not burdened by geographies or most mortal dangers. Our time at
Tentyris is done. Let us move on.”

Hathor breathed a sigh of relief. The split
second she had doubted Maximos had shaken her. She knew she would
die. And when that happened, she would especially need him to help
her daughters carry on the Tentyrian legacy and keep the Council of
the Zodiac together. It was just over thirty years ago, right
before Narcissa’s birth, when she’d had a vision of Maximos
protecting the generations of Luminaries to come. And he would be
around when it came time to stop “the Event.” “Before we submit to
a formal Council vote regarding whether we should stay or leave, I
wish to speak in further detail about our relocation,” said Hathor.
“When we first discussed finding an alternate home for our kind, we
agreed to appropriate funds yearly to the effort and inevitable
reconstruction. I started using those funds about twelve years ago.
The location was found and construction is near completion.” Hathor
saw the surprise on many of the Council members’ faces.

“Only Maximos, Aristos, Pello, and the
Luminaries have known about the project,” said Hathor. But before
she could finish, Stavros interrupted.

“Hathor, why would you not consult and gain
consensus from the rest of us?” Anger rolled off Stavros in waves,
despite his calm exterior, making Karis’ mind swim. Her empathic
abilities made her highly sensitive to emotions around her. Easing
her discomfort, the Virgo Coven leader modified her breathing and
strengthened her mental barrier.

“That is why we are here,” said Stavros, “to
provide counsel and equitable representation amongst the Covens. It
is within your right as queen but in opposition to all of your past
policies. The Tentyrian relocation should be a democratic vote
amongst the Council. Yet you’ve already made the decision
yourself.”

“Typical,” Hathor heard Aglaia mutter.

“Yes, I have made that decision, as was my
right as queen and Primary Ruler, with the consent of all four
Luminaries,” said Hathor fiercely. “I did what I thought was right
as your leader. Many years ago, I had a vision of an isolated
mountain that would become a safe haven to our kind. After that, I
sent out numerous expeditions to find it. And as much as I wanted
to garner consent from you all to build once the mountain was
found, I saw that agreement would never happen. You all would
inevitably argue over the timing and location—saying that it was
premature. So I initiated the project with the Luminaries’
approval, which again, I’ll remind you, is within my power.”

In the pit of her stomach, Hathor felt the
guilt of not sharing the relocation plans with all of the Council
members. But the vision she had. . . had been haunting. It wasn’t
just that the Council would ultimately argue and never agree on a
location. She saw that if she involved them all, it would cause a
rift in the Council of the Zodiac and break it apart. Her visions
didn’t reveal to her all the intricacies of an event, but she knew
that if she chose to involve all of the Coven leaders, their
Council would split in two. She hoped her actions would circumvent
that fate. But Hathor knew better than anyone—you can never really
escape fate.

“This may come as a surprise,” said Hathor,
“but I do not believe our entire clan should relocate together.
History often repeats itself. I don’t want us to move only to find
us threatened again. While there is strength in numbers, our race
as a whole has grown too large to remain unified in one place. It
is amazing that Tentyris has existed for this long without the
outside humans understanding what we are and what we can do.
Granted, we have gone to great lengths to achieve that. I have
thought long and hard, and I am recommending that your respective
Covens relocate permanently to places of your own choosing.”

Murmurs of confusion bounced off the temple
walls.

“I don’t understand. You said that
construction is almost done?” said Sebastian. “What is the purpose
of this mountain then?”

“When the mountain was found, we began
building into it to construct a new complex. Its secluded location
and vast deposits of monazite and bastnäsite make it ideal. From
these minerals, we can produce lanthanum ore, which you all know as
the energy source we have developed here in Tentyris. However, as I
alluded to, the complex is not designed to permanently house our
entire clan of six hundred plus. As part of my vision, I saw this
sanctuary in the mountainside as a capital and central location for
us to govern. If necessary, it could serve as a temporary refuge
for our kind . . . I didn’t and don’t expect you all to want to
live there permanently with your Covens. It is important you know I
was not trying to take your autonomy away when I didn’t consult
with you all regarding my vision and the building of this new
complex. All of you are capable and powerful leaders; hence you are
the Council of the Zodiac. You have your own interests and those of
your Covens to look after. That is why I am suggesting you relocate
to where you see fit.”