Chapter One
First Encounter with Death
“Courage shapes your beginning; determination leads to your alternate
ending.”
~~~Oliria year 2115 A. D. ~~~
“Where is my wife!?” King Thomas asked, racing through the halls
with his six-year-old daughter clutched to his right arm. Several Olirian
guards made way for the king whose wife had minutes to spare. “Where is she?” he
hissed, with his blood boiling over, prepared to attack anyone in sight. He
traveled a few more steps, and soon both he and Princess Jinálie were in front
of the door that led to their sick loved one.
They entered the room and saw a woman with blood
shot eyes, lying helplessly in the hospital bed. The princess watched by the
door as her father ran over to his wife. Jinálie knew that the pale woman was her mother
only because the door had her name assigned, yet this woman with tubes running
into her nose was somehow a stranger in her eyes.
Princess Jinálie noticed the whine of the
life-support machine. The sound unsettled her, causing her to feel troubled. She
suspended her mind from reality as she approached the figure in the bed, and she
reached out to her mother’s weakened hands. Those hands, which once held her
firmly when she took her first steps, could now barely move.
The little girl leaned over, forcing herself
into her mother’s line of vision. The queen opened her eyes and looked into her
daughter’s startled face. Jinálie couldn’t bear seeing the woman with the world’s
most lively soul perish.
A tear escaped from the little girl’s eye and landed
on her mother’s hand. The queen looked at her daughter with intensity and said in
a weak voice, “Take my locket from my neck; it will guide you through life.” Jinálie
shook her head while backing away from the bed and holding on to the edge of a
table. The queen saw the pain in her daughter’s eyes and signaled King Thomas to
help take off the silver locket.
“Here, take this,” the woman murmured, “and
promise me when you become queen to trust both your heart and mind.”
Jinálie nodded meekly and went over to grab the
locket. “I promise to become a good ruler, just don’t leave me,” she shouted
with tears flying out her eyes. At the
strike of the tenth hour the queen released her daughter’s hand and said her last
words, “Remember that I love you and you will always be my Jinálie.”
A long beep sounded from the heart monitor.
**
Several hours passed. Nighttime was near. Thick
sheets of icy water fell from the dark clouded sky and covered the rich soil as
if it mourned the queen’s passing. The royals left when the doctor pronounced
the dreaded news. King Thomas rechecked his wife’s pulse thirty times before
accepting the undeniable truth.
He exited the hospital with the princess, close
to his side. The royals slowly got into
their limo. King Thomas signaled the
chauffeur to leave.
“Jinálie, how are you feeling?” he said.
His daughter peeked outside the window. She had
cried for hours and wanted something to clear her mind. She saw the thin fog
covering the distant hills, enhancing their glory, and the rain falling down on
the emerald grass.
“I need to fill up on Lirmess gas,” the limo driver
said, lowering the privacy window and interrupting Jinálie’s thought process.
King Thomas shook his head. The inexpensive Lirmess
gas was made from the elements air, water and fire, through patented technology.
It was rarely needed for Olirian cars, but of course, out of anyone, his limo
driver would forget to check the gas gauge.
“You should have done this while you were
waiting,” the King said, irritated.
The chauffeur apologized for his ignorance and drove
fast to the gas station. He hurried down
the highway roads, dodging vehicles and beeping his horn. A white arrow pointed towards the empty fuel
symbol. He had a few miles before the limo stopped moving. The chauffeur pressed
down on the gas pedal, trying to gain speed, but to his dismay, a rushing wind collected
dirt from the ground and threw it to the limo’s windshield. The chauffeur couldn’t
see the road ahead. He heard a loud horn, warning him of the potential danger.
Sweat fell from his forehead. He forced the steering wheel to the left, guiding
the limo back to the right lane.
The chauffeur steadied his hands as the mud
cleared from the windshield. “Hold on,” he shouted, activating the magnetic
wheels. The vehicle gripped the road and continued moving on the straight path.
The chauffeur smiled. He drove faster and faster, without warning.
“What is the meaning of this?” King Thomas shouted,
holding his daughter close.
The chauffeur looked back at the royals and
said, “I’m about to run out of—”
“Watch out!” Jinálie shouted, pointing toward an
eighteen wheeler truck.
The chauffeur planted his foot on the brake but
it malfunctioned. He steered to the right, hoping to avoid an accident.
The windows fogged, blocking all view to the
outside. Both Jinálie and King Thomas
closed their eyes in hopes of staying alive.
“Hold on,” the chauffeur said, activating the wheel
reflux levers, which were only used when traveling under 100 mph. The limo slid
to left, avoiding the collision against the massive truck. It continued to
glide across the road until it reached pump number three at the Lirmess gas
station.
The chauffeur exited the vehicle and filled the
tank. King Thomas leaped out of the car.
“What purpose did that serve?” he shouted, boiling
over with rage, “we could have been killed.”
“I’m sorry King Thomas,” the limo driver said.
“Sorry isn’t good enough. Expect to see your
last paycheck this weekend.”
The chauffeur waved his hands around, pleading
for his job. “King Thomas,” he said, “don’t fire me. I just lost my mind after the queen’s death,
that’s all.”
The royals hired him out of pity. He was a
clumsy fellow at times, forgetting to do even the most basic things like
rolling up his window when it rained, putting on his seat belt, or turning the
auto drive off while he drove manually. King Thomas had it up to Igno (The
tallest Olirian Mountain) with this man. He wanted to fire him ages ago, but
Queen Aerelina insisted on giving the chauffeur another chance. After all, she
knew how it felt to be different, having been diagnosed with a rare lung
disease.
“Get it together lad,” King Thomas said, frustrated,
nearly ripping out his perfectly trimmed whiskers.
The driver cleared his throat, straightened his
back and lowered his hands. “I’ll get my act right, but I’m begging of you,
please don’t fire me.”
King Thomas sighed. He could never stay angry at
anyone. “For some strange reason,” he said, “I can’t get myself to fire you.
Probably because of my wife, she loved your driving.” He rubbed his head to
cool off. His dark hair had a
strip of white, making him look older than thirty-three. After this incident, every
hair on his skin might turn white, like the broken bones he almost received.
“Very well,” he said, standing tall, and raising
his rectangular chin in the air, “I will spare you this moment, but take us to
the castle safely, that is an order. Now that the queen has passed, Jinálie is
the only heir to Oliria.”
“I will your majesty, even if it means till death,
I will honor your wishes,” the chauffeur said, bowing.
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