The obsidian blade

The manner in which my father had died had brought me to realization that death was underrated. The very mention of death made the majority of humans feel rather uncomfortable with most of them evading the topic when they had the slightest opportunity to. Death had saved my father from a life of pain and also saved me and my sister from loosing everything we should have inherited from my father. How then was death a bad thing. It made recall a story my late mother had told me when I was about the ages of three and four. Normally I should have forgotten about this story as I aged over time, but since there wasn't much memories left of her, I treasured all the little ones I had of her. I can still vividly here her voice as she spoke.

" Once upon a time in the land of the druids. A prince was born and had the most beautiful hands in the whole of the seven Kingdoms. Everyone admired his hands and people travelled from afar just to have a look at his hands. Legends said they glittered like the stars of the night and one could easily get enchanted, just by gazing too long as his luminous hands. The young prince loved his hands very much and could not help but show it off at the slightest opportunity. He would take his stallion and ride slowly around the village wearing no shirts at all , while both ladies and men drool at the beauty of his hands. His father was proud of his son and encouraged him to take such rides across the town since it was a source of happiness to many. However, his mother was wise and knew that things greatly admired were things greatly sorted. She was scared that her son's hands would soon be the target of some evil people and warned him against taking such trips around the village. One day when the prince was twelve years old, he picked up his horse and decided to take one of his shirtless ride across the village. He had let his Fascism gotten the better of him. It had been more than five years since his subjects saw his beautiful arms. Now they were even more bigger and more luminous and he felt it was a waste to keep all this beauty alone to himself. Without his mother knowing, he mounted his horse and rode out of the castle, brandishing his charming smile as the village people drooled at his hands in awe. The feeling was serene. He hated his mother for not just stopping him from being happy but also from stopping his subjects from laying sight on what gave them so much joy. He lost his guard and began to ride into nooks and crannies which even his father had warned him against entering. The hearty smiles and cheers of his people was what controlled him and he believed They could never hurt him. He was still basking in his euphoria and raised his hands to wave at his subjects at the top of the hill when an arrow had spun through the air, danced through the wind current and lodged it's tip into the right hand of the young prince. His screamed in agony not from the pain of the strike, but from the dark coloration of plasma that oozed from the base of the stuck arrow in his hand. The ugliness of his right arm made his followers throw up and they turned their face away from their prince as his trained horse, fled with him, back to the castle where guards were shocked to find their prince almost unconscious.

" Oh my child. I warned you not take those rides anymore. The world is full of jealous people who would rather have you dead for no reason in particular. Why did you disobey me." The queen cried, sitting beside the conscious body of her son. The poison had spread all through his right hand and imprinting shades of darkness to a once beautiful hand. All the best doctors and chemist in the whole seven Kingdoms had come and gave administered there medicine on him but he was not getting any better. He had a painful fever that refused to bulge to treatment. His mother was a wise queen. She knew the person who had shot her son did not want him dead. He only wanted to teach him a lesson that show off was bad. He had to loose the affected limb to stop the poison from getting further.

"No mother. Not my beautiful hand. Please you can't let them cut my beautiful hand. I swear I will heal soon." He cried after his mother had told him the only solution to his predicament.

" The boy would heal my queen. Juts give him some time." Said the king who always took sides of with his son. The queen felt overpowered not wanting to play the role of the dark witch. She sat by his side and prayed to the gods to heal her only child. Her prayers didn't seem to leave the roofs of the castle. The black discoloration soon spread through the shoulders of her son and began to fade away the light in the prince left shoulder.

" Save our child while you can. His powers as prince supersedes mine as the queen, but your power is paramount. Order your doctor's to cut off his hands before the poison lodges in his heat. Please I'm begging you my king." The queen cried and knelt down before her king. He knew she was right, yet the thought of raising a heir, without hands was something he couldn't bring his self to accept.

" Let's pray for him. The gods would heal him. Woman! Where is your faith." Said the kind and turned his face away from her in shame. He wished he had listened to her much earlier. At least, a king with a single hand was not unheard off. He rushed to the alter and began to pray for the gods to save his son, while his queen lay on the floor, weeping helplessly in wistfulness. His prayers had fallen shot as well. The poison wanted to mock the prince and his loved ones. It boycotted his vital organs and moved to his left leg. Leaving the hands no difference from that of a decomposing corpse while his painful fever kept torturing him the more.

" Save him! Now or loose your child forever. He is a gift from the gods. The only child we have in more than twenty years of our marriage. Order you Doctors to amputate his left leg and two arms. We would save his life and he would still become king. His body may be deformed but his heart would be intact with us." The wise queen cried at her king, clutching his leg tightly as her tears breamed down her cornea and found their way over her cheeks. The king knew he was loosing his son. A prince with two legs and no hands wasn't as bad as he had thought. At least, he could walk around the castle and his servants would help him do his laundry and chores. All he needed was a devoted female wife to tend to him in moments when he needed to get private. There was no shame between a man and his wife. Now he had to think of raising a heir with no hands and just a single leg. He couldn't walk on single leg, neither could he hold a walking stick. More than ever he fled from his throne and headed to the temple to hold a special vigil for his son. He believed the gods would intervene and save heal his son. He left his queen wailing pitifully on the cold floor. His vigil proved futile. Perhaps the gods were not pleased with him or perhaps they didn't have the remedy he wanted. All I could deduct was that his prayers weren't the solution that was needed to save his son. Sacrifice was what he had failed to do. He loved his son so much and couldn't bring himself to ordering his surgeons to take off the left hand and safe the prince's life. Soon the poison had found it's a way to the right leg of the prince and it was apparent that the child would die if all his limbs were not cut off. All the doctors and chemist had exhausted all their knowledge in curtailing the poison and now had their backs against the wall.

" If you let my son die. I shall take my own life and leave you all alone. His is my joy and the only treasure I have to call my own when I get old. As long as I am alive. I would take care of him even if he has no limb. Order your surgeon to amputate all his limbs and save his life. Abandon your faith and do the needful before it's to late, for I swear on the graves of my late parents that I am not bluffing." She said standing at before him till her face was almost touching his. Indeed, rules and regulations were only maintained when some fair level of profits were being reaped from it. The queen was no longer reaping anything good from kneeling before her king and decided to stand up against him even though she knew fully well that she was liable to be hanged for it. That was a sacrifice she was willing to take, to save her beloved son's life. The king's faith was topnotch. He believed so much in the deities he worshipped and concluded they were only testing his faith and would come to his aid soon.

" Our son would not die. Neither shall his limbs be amputated. He is a gift from the gods and the gods shall save him. If you have faith, you would move mountains. Go and pray for your child my queen." Said the king and sighed deeply in exasperation. Even him didn't know what he was doing anymore. Perhaps he had put his ego at the line and it was going to cost him his son's life. Perhaps, he just had to show more faith and things would turn out fine just the way he had hoped. As the days went buy the queen got tired of crying and began to mourn her son before he was even dead. It was customary for a mother to mourn the death of her child and pray for the repose of his soul for at least three days. She didn't plan on living for long after the death of her son so she had decided to accord him his last rights while she could. On the third day of her mourning. She sat on her throne and paid a keen hearing the activities in her chamber, where her son had been since returning from his ill-fated ride. Her maids had been busy cleaning and dressing his decayed limbs while others administered his pills to him. He held and obsidian blade which had been smeared in lidocaine crystals. Soon the maids and nurses bust into wails crying out and calling for help as the prince had breathed his last. The queen closed her eyes, ejecting a drop of tears from her left eye, before driving the blade into her heart. It was painless. She died before her maids could call her attention to her son's demise. When the kind Heard of his double tragedy. He could not believe the gods could have been so cruel to him. He rushed to his wife's Harem and met her lifeless body, sitting Majestically on her throne. He rushed to her, grabbed her in his hands and begged her to wake up, promising to fulfil all what asked of him. It was too late, she was gone. He rushed into her chambers where the remains of his son lied. The once charming and radiant prince now, was almost unrecognizable from the horrors he had suffered from the lengthy days of battling with the lethal poison. The king was furious. Yet his faith was unlike anything his subjects had seen. He believed the gods knew best and buried his beloved ones. The weight of his faith had led his subjects to mourn with him for over a year. They weren't going to see such a king in their lifetime and they celebrated him while they could. In respect for his loving queen, he refused to take another wife and lived the rest of his life as a lonely king. Loneliness was his price for believing too much in faith." Said my mother and asked me to go to sleep to ease the pain of the bite on my leg. Later on In my life, I would find out about the correlation between the snakebite in Nairobi, my father's exceptional faith, my mothers story, and her sacrifices.

The horrors of Charlotte past had struck her like an arrow and it was gradually consuming her. She needed all the mercy I was willing to give her. But not just yet. I wanted to hear more about her encounter with Adonis and how it affected my sister.