Once Upon a December
folder
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
720
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
720
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited."
Once Upon a December
'...this is my December
These are my snow-covered dreams
This is me pretending
This is all I know....'
It was the season of festivals and holidays in the human realm as Itzayana Xiuhcoatl gazed into the Sphere of Destiny, watching the seasons change in the upper world from her 'velvet prison' in Patala (the Underworld). This time of year was always difficult for her since the winter solstice always brought the painful reminder of her beloved daughter's passing centuries before. Even though time had passed, seasons come and gone the pain was still raw and at times unbearable for the Fiery Serpent of Lumeria. Sighing deeply, Itzayana turned away from the sphere for watching autumn turn into winter only brought up painful reminders....and her infamous rage. It was a cold December in the year of 4795 B.C., long before any written records were kept of human history when Marysa was sacrificed to the Olympian gods by the citizens of Atlantis.
Apollo and Artemis knew very well that Marysa was Itzayana's daughter and yet they did not care about any consequences once they had taken the young girl's life. It was only after Itzayana had laid waste to Atlantis and Apollo's temple there, then to Santorini where Artemis's temple resided when the Olympian gods truly knew the meaning of 'unholy terror.' And even though she had been locked away in Patala by Lumerian gods, the gates to the prison guarded by Apollyon and Azrael who were two of the most feared of the Zabaniya, all still feared her. Picking up her black velvet cloak, Itzayana drew it around her shoulders and pulled up the hood as she left her private chambers to take a walk in the gardens that led to a crypt.
The weather was dull and gray as usual for the time of year and the chilled northern winds were freezing, but Itzayana did not feel it. She needed to be alone and the only place where she found peace and solace was the very place that fed her anger and rage....Marysa's tomb. On the outside, it was a grand structure carved from white marble with semi-precious jewels carefully set into a pair of black onyx doors 100 feet high that gently sloped down into an arch. The gems were laid to create a life-like mosaic of the beloved young woman. Climbing roses wound themselves around the columns that supported the arch over-hang and a fountain gently bubbled a few yards away from the tomb itself. Pushing open a door, Itzayana entered the inside of the crypt which was just as lavishly decorated on the inside as it was on the outside.
Lining both sides of the long mosuleum were carved ivory statues of Hafaza, Islamic angels; they were posed with swords in their right hands and shields on their left arms, guarding over the sarcophagus that laid in the center of the room, which held the young woman's body. The sarcophagus itself was raised up on a dais with four 20ft statues of the archangels Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, and Raziel standing at each corner with their wings extended out to the sides to form a circle of protection. The vaulted ceiling above the sarcophagus was made of glass to allow the light of the moon and stars to shine down upon Itzayana's beloved daughter. The room itself could have been a scene from the heavens with its polished onyx floors to its gleaming ivory walls and momuments. This was truly a mother's act of love for her child to ensure that she rested among the heavenly bodies.
Itzayana slowly knelt down beside the sarcophagus, gently touching the face of the lid that bore an uncanny resemblance to her beloved child. In passing, one would have thought the life-like lid was a person at rest, however, it was the final resting place of a life cut short. As she gazed into the image of her daughter's 'sleeping' face, Itzayana felt both her rage and sadness begin to boil up inside of her. This shouldn't have happened to such a young life, especially that of divine birth. 'Soon, my darling, soon,' she silently swore to Marysa. 'Those arrogant brats will pay dearly for what they have done to you.'
Though the winter solstice often brought painful reminders to Itzayana, she was determined to have her revenge against the Olympians come hell or waters high. For the love of her child, a mother would bring about the reign of chaos and death, even if it meant destroying the world in the process.
These are my snow-covered dreams
This is me pretending
This is all I know....'
It was the season of festivals and holidays in the human realm as Itzayana Xiuhcoatl gazed into the Sphere of Destiny, watching the seasons change in the upper world from her 'velvet prison' in Patala (the Underworld). This time of year was always difficult for her since the winter solstice always brought the painful reminder of her beloved daughter's passing centuries before. Even though time had passed, seasons come and gone the pain was still raw and at times unbearable for the Fiery Serpent of Lumeria. Sighing deeply, Itzayana turned away from the sphere for watching autumn turn into winter only brought up painful reminders....and her infamous rage. It was a cold December in the year of 4795 B.C., long before any written records were kept of human history when Marysa was sacrificed to the Olympian gods by the citizens of Atlantis.
Apollo and Artemis knew very well that Marysa was Itzayana's daughter and yet they did not care about any consequences once they had taken the young girl's life. It was only after Itzayana had laid waste to Atlantis and Apollo's temple there, then to Santorini where Artemis's temple resided when the Olympian gods truly knew the meaning of 'unholy terror.' And even though she had been locked away in Patala by Lumerian gods, the gates to the prison guarded by Apollyon and Azrael who were two of the most feared of the Zabaniya, all still feared her. Picking up her black velvet cloak, Itzayana drew it around her shoulders and pulled up the hood as she left her private chambers to take a walk in the gardens that led to a crypt.
The weather was dull and gray as usual for the time of year and the chilled northern winds were freezing, but Itzayana did not feel it. She needed to be alone and the only place where she found peace and solace was the very place that fed her anger and rage....Marysa's tomb. On the outside, it was a grand structure carved from white marble with semi-precious jewels carefully set into a pair of black onyx doors 100 feet high that gently sloped down into an arch. The gems were laid to create a life-like mosaic of the beloved young woman. Climbing roses wound themselves around the columns that supported the arch over-hang and a fountain gently bubbled a few yards away from the tomb itself. Pushing open a door, Itzayana entered the inside of the crypt which was just as lavishly decorated on the inside as it was on the outside.
Lining both sides of the long mosuleum were carved ivory statues of Hafaza, Islamic angels; they were posed with swords in their right hands and shields on their left arms, guarding over the sarcophagus that laid in the center of the room, which held the young woman's body. The sarcophagus itself was raised up on a dais with four 20ft statues of the archangels Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, and Raziel standing at each corner with their wings extended out to the sides to form a circle of protection. The vaulted ceiling above the sarcophagus was made of glass to allow the light of the moon and stars to shine down upon Itzayana's beloved daughter. The room itself could have been a scene from the heavens with its polished onyx floors to its gleaming ivory walls and momuments. This was truly a mother's act of love for her child to ensure that she rested among the heavenly bodies.
Itzayana slowly knelt down beside the sarcophagus, gently touching the face of the lid that bore an uncanny resemblance to her beloved child. In passing, one would have thought the life-like lid was a person at rest, however, it was the final resting place of a life cut short. As she gazed into the image of her daughter's 'sleeping' face, Itzayana felt both her rage and sadness begin to boil up inside of her. This shouldn't have happened to such a young life, especially that of divine birth. 'Soon, my darling, soon,' she silently swore to Marysa. 'Those arrogant brats will pay dearly for what they have done to you.'
Though the winter solstice often brought painful reminders to Itzayana, she was determined to have her revenge against the Olympians come hell or waters high. For the love of her child, a mother would bring about the reign of chaos and death, even if it meant destroying the world in the process.