How Familiar - 6. Cita - First Shots

Cita Zyria

A shining, red Pegasus. Red? But there are only three Pegasi left in all of Ytia, she thought, struggling to retain the vision. It approached her and gently licked her face, then it vanished into the fog. A red Pegasus? What can that mean? The Pegasi of the Alaeyan triplets are black, silver and white. There is no red. The colour of blood, perhaps? A sign that the Pegasi will die? She remembered its pure, blue eyes. Only the Alae family had eyes so blue. But my family's eyes are red. Red as blood. Could that be its meaning? She wished her dreams and visions would be more clear to her. There was no way to interpret what she saw with pinpoint accuracy. The fog increased, and Cita felt herself getting weaker. No! I was close this time. I'm sure I was! No!

Cita! Did you find him? Armyn's voice pierced her brain. No, brother! Not while I'm dreaming! Please don't. Cita?

STOP! She shrieked as she violently woke, sitting up and breathing heavily.

Cita, what did you see? Mala's voice asked her gently, but Cita did not want to hear her. Or Armyn. The two of them were relentless in their telepathic communication. Often when she was younger, she would run to their father in tears because her brother and sister talked to her when she dreamed and it caused her so much pain. We're sixteen now. Why do they still do that? Mala did not often stop to think before she acted, but she was sure Armyn liked to hurt her.

I saw nothing, Cita angrily told the two of them. I've slept too much, I fear. I don't dream as much now. Please leave me be.

Sure. Sorry, Mala replied sadly.

She felt bad for Mala. As hard-hearted as the girl liked to appear, she missed their father like crazy. Armyn had nothing to say, but she could sense he was angry. That was no surprise. Armyn spent a lot of time in a foul mood. But he could not know she was lying. A red Pegasus, red as blood, vanishing into the fog. What is that supposed to be?

"Kaden!" Cita shouted out loud, realising how much pain she was in. Her head was splitting open with a powerful migraine, and she could not even find the strength to sit up. "Kaden, are you there?"

She heard shuffling outside her chamber door, and it opened, her brother stepping inside, dressed in red velvets. She tried to look at him, but with every thump inside her head, he split into two and she could not focus.

"Oh, Cita," Kaden hurried over and put his fingers on her head.

They were so cold, and Cita knew her head must have felt hot as magma. She felt as though she would pass out. Or die. Kaden spoke words that their Father taught him, and heat and electricity seemed to pass directly through his fingers into her brain. It hurt like a migraine threefold, but the sorcery located the pain and destroyed it, leaving her feeling weak and frail, lying down under her sheets.

"Kaden," Cita whimpered, putting her hands over her face.

"Oh, Goddess," Kaden hopped onto the bed with her and took her in his arms. He was sweet and comforting. "That was your worst headache yet. You need to take better care of yourself. I may not be here next time you go searching for him."

"I know, I know," Cita felt him brush the long, black hair from around her face. "I just... I need to find him, but I can't. I'm so worried!"

"And in turn, we're worried about you!" Kaden pointed out. "The Council needs you. I need you! Here, in the real world. Not lost in the fog. You're spending too much time there, Cita. It's weakening you."

"I know, but... Father would know what to do!" Cita looked into his kind, red eyes. "I don't. I'm lost without him here."

"He'll be back!" Kaden reassured her, slipping away and throwing the sheets from her. "Until then, you must not fall to pieces. Alaeyas needs you, sister. Not Father. The people love and trust you, and they're getting more scared every day."

"It's been ten days," Cita complained, putting her feet on the floor and tying her long hair back into a ponytail. "Ten days since those Princes turned sixteen and Father and Jerod vanished without a trace. Without them, we are vulnerable! Word will soon reach the nobles, and the vultures will start to circle."

"Armyn and Mala are strong!" Kaden told her. "They will keep Alaeyas safe. Us too."

Armyn and Mala? Cita snorted aloud at her naive brother's assertion. Mala was a talented warrior, her skin protected by ancient Zyrian sorcery and a gift for skewering people with that spear of hers. She was a natural leader, a General of the Alaeyan army, and tirelessly worked to train as many soldiers as she could. Strength was her power, but she suffered from tunnel vision and lack of diplomatic prowess. Armyn was a different beast altogether. His affinity with the ancient Zyrian arts was the strongest of the Zyrian four, no doubt. His skill with sorcery was matched only by their father, and he had wits for sure. That said, Cita thought, Armyn's heart was tainted with hatred and malice. She had no doubts that he was clever, but her brother was impatient, reckless and arrogant. He was as spiteful as Kaden was forgiving. The two of them could not be more different. As good as Armyn was at using his power to hurt people, Kaden was just as expert at using his ability to heal and ease pain.

"Armyn and Mala will have us at war sooner rather than later," Cita complained, applying some perfume to her wrists and neck. She sighed and looked at herself in the long mirror she kept in the corner of her room. Occasionally she saw things in there that other people did not. "I don't know how to stop them."

"You're our representative on the Council, not Armyn or Mala," Kaden reminded her, stepping beside her and looking at their reflection. "You make the decisions. The people look to you, sister. They believe in you. That's why you sit with the Council where Mala and Armyn do not."

"Then why do we answer to him?" Cita asked, meeting his eyes. "Why do we let him make all the decisions? Why do we do his dirty work for him?"

"I'm afraid of him," Kaden whispered sadly, and Cita nodded.

"We are all afraid of him. Even Mala, though she would never admit to it," Cita grimaced. Something looked strange in their reflection, though. She could see it. "Do you see yourself here?"

"I do. I see you, too, and your clothes hamper and the lamp on your table. What of it?" Kaden asked, pushing his gorgeous red cloak behind him. "Do you see something else?"

Mala and Armyn, she thought. Mala's shorter hair fashioned with her bangs and Armyn's cruel smile proved that. The four were identical and looked the same as the man who made them. It was her breasts, hips and nether regions that separated Cita from Kaden; else they appeared as reflections of one another.

"Does a red Pegasus mean anything to you?" Cita asked him suddenly.

"Red? Is that what you see?" Kaden frowned and pulled away from the mirror. "There are no red Pegasi, sister. Only those of the Alaeyan Princes. I have seen Vyma for myself. A beautiful but dangerous beast. But he is black. Why red? I'm afraid I do not have the answers you need. You are the seer, not I."

"What good is being a seer when I can never make sense of the things I see?" Cita asked, but it was only a half-truth she spoke. She knew all too well that Armyn and Mala were the reflections of the two looking into the mirror. Or are we the reflections? Does it matter? We are all flesh and blood, and we share a mind. "I can't see any clues to where Father has gone, nor have I been able to see anything of Ronan Alae or the woman who stole him. I'm failing, Kaden. Armyn tells me to sleep as often and long as I can so I can find Father, but... I can't, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much I sleep."

"Good. That means you can stop sleeping all the time and return to the Council where you belong!" Kaden told her, pulling her away from the mirror. The hard, determined eyes of Mala and the cruel smirk on Armyn's pink lips disintegrated. "The people need you to guide them, now more than ever. Whether Father is testing us or whether he is in trouble is not important right now, okay? We need to keep Alaeyas afloat with or without him. He is the strongest man in all of Ytia. I have no doubt he will return to us when he is ready."

"Mala believes he's dead and Armyn believes he abandoned us to rot in the mess he caused," Cita looked intently at her brother.

He was beautiful, no doubt. Girls melted at his feet, but Kaden had still not taken any to bed, unlike Armyn. He looked just like his father, but fifteen years younger. Kai, though, was a child when the Pegasi of Alae ambushed and killed the Wyverns of Zyria. Their father was hundreds of years older than he appeared. He was the sole survivor of the slaughter - just a young boy and his faithful Familiar. He must have been so lonely, Cita thought. So he made us. His children. You are not his daughter, a voice nagged at her. You are his creation. As is Kaden. The four of them all born of sorcery together. Armyn wished to learn this technique, but Father refused to teach him, Cita remembered. Ancient primordial magic, similar to the way the Goddess crafted Human and Familiar. I don't have a Familiar, though. I only have my sister and brothers. We share a mind, however, like Human and Familiar would. The four of us. It makes us powerful.

"Pull yourself together!" Kaden put his delicate, gentle hands on her shoulders. "Come. Let's get you some fresh air. You have been cooped up in this bedchamber for far too long."

"Perhaps you're right," Cita admitted with a faint smile.

As much as she needed her father's guidance and support, her countryfolk needed her more. She sat on the Council to represent Kai - a vote that overwhelmingly favoured her over Armyn, much to her brother's fury. Kaden, though, would not let her lose herself in her dreams. To sleep too often is to see the world move by without you, Kai frequently lectured her. Kaden looked and sounded so much like him when he looked out for her.

The Alaeyan Palace had once been a marble jewel in the south of the country, a place for Alaeyas' elite families, including Queen Palona and King Jaiden. Now, it housed everyone who did not have a place of their own. It was a haven for anyone who needed it. Anyone who was hungry, sick or homeless was welcome within these beautiful walls. In Alaeyas, everyone was equal. Those who had been wealthy before the coup were now no more or less valuable than someone who needed a chair with wheels to move. Wolves, bears and crocodile Familiars did not elevate status any more than those with insects and tiny rodents. It was a common misconception that Kai of Zyria stole the throne to become the new tyrant, creating four new images of himself to aid him in conquest. It was a lie spread by the former noble families and Queen Ninon herself, and the myth infected the whole continent, it seemed. None of them saw Alaeyas for what it was. We are a true collective. No person is denied reason to draw breath. Everyone has access to what they need to live a life that fulfils them most as long as they contribute to the common good.

"Miss Cita, good morning!" A sickly old man gasped as he waited in line to see the medic, sitting in a wooden wheeled chair with a blanket over him. He looked dreadful, with pink boils on his face and his eyes tired and grey.

"Good morning..." She greeted him, meeting with his eyes. Todd, a voice whispered to her. "Todd! The medic will take great care of you, okay? Good luck today!"

If Kaden personally healed every sick person in Alaeyas, he would undoubtedly kill himself trying. There were many talented medics, most of them personally trained by Kai himself with tricks, tips and knowledge gained from his hundreds of years of training in the ancient arts. Kai and Kaden would heal those who needed it most. Those who suffered beyond measure with their ailments. Those who could not be cured by traditional means. Medical prowess and knowledge in Alaeyas were second to no country, but as a country that did away with the monarchy, they were shunned by the others. Iralia was coming for them soon, with Queen Ninon somehow convinced that they stole Prince Ronan from her. That was a ridiculous notion, of course. The Alaeyan triplets were welcome to live a rich and happy life, innocent of the crimes against the people perpetrated by their mother, but they were not welcome in Alaeyas. To the south of Iralia, Eodanira wasted no time in marrying Prince Soren to Princess Charlotte. According to Kaden's investigations, common folk and nobles in Eodanira alike had begun calling her the Alaeyan Queen. They were coming to take the throne back. There was no doubt.

"Who from the Council is here today?" Cita asked Kaden as the two walked the halls of the Palace.

The only function the Palace served that remained the same as before the coup was that the Council met here. Ten representatives from the ten different states of Alaeyas would meet, discuss and make decisions for the greater good of the whole country. Cita represented both her state and the Zyrian family, taking the place of her father after he resigned, feeling confident that Alaeyas was in good hands with the Council in charge and stepping back.

"Willa and Zed are both in the Palace today," Kaden informed her, merrily waving at the other people who passed them. "If you need anyone else, I am happy to request their presence myself. What say you?"

"Willa and Zed will do just fine," Cita smiled, remembering the sweet woman and her beautiful squirrel Familiar and the man whose children Cita played with as a youngster. "Where are Mala and Armyn?"

I wait for you in the Council chamber, dear sister, Armyn telepathically told her. He's been eavesdropping on us, Cita thought angrily. He always does that. Always listening in on his three siblings lest they talk about him. Always watching through their eyes. The sociopath. At least he can't hear my thoughts.

"Never mind, he's in the Council chamber," Cita added bitterly, and Kaden rolled his eyes. Don't give away too much, Kaden. He'll see it. He sees everything. Funny, because I'm supposed to be the seer, yet he's the one who seems to notice everything. "Thank you for your help, Kaden. You know where to find me should you need me."

The Council chamber was formerly the throne room of the Alaeyan Palace. Their father, after overthrowing the Alaeyan royals, destroyed everything grand about the Palace. The stained glass windows had been replaced by pure, regular glass. The throne was gone, and in its place, a simple oak wood table sat with ten hardwood chairs. Armyn, of course, sat in a cushioned throne-like chair now that his father was not here to object. Aesthetically he was Kaden's exact duplicate, but he was nothing like him. No, Armyn liked the idea of reinstating power structures in Alaeyas. He fantasised about dominating the other countries and forcing them to submit to the Alaeyan way. He loved to be angry. Where Armyn, Mala and Kaden could see, listen and communicate through each other, Cita, the seer, was the one who could feel what her brothers and sisters were feeling. Sometimes, she could even listen to their thoughts, but it was difficult and often painful. Armyn's thoughts always caused her pain. His feelings invariably caused her misery. Yet, their father insisted that the four of them were symbiotic. They could not expunge him without dire consequences. Still, Cita thought, Father was reckless in letting Armyn get so powerful.

"Well, look who decided to show up!" Armyn dressed like something Cita had seen when she had snuck from the Palace to visit a brothel with Mala once.

It looked to be leather, and it had bright red rubies embroidered into the chest and shoulders. They looked like blood-covered spikes if Cita were to tell the truth. He always wore his lips in a smirk that chilled her blood, or a ferocious snarl that turned her insides to ice. Today he was happy, it seemed, but if Armyn were happy, it was often to the detriment of someone or something else. The jagged appearance of his cloak and laced bodice gave him an androgynous look, combined with the elaborate braids in his hair. Since Father disappeared, my dear brother fancies himself as the King of Alaeyas, Cita thought, and Armyn's eyes fixed on hers as though he were reading her mind. He can't, though. Only I possess that gift. Occasionally, Kai would preside over the Council to keep up with current events and lend advice where the Council asked for it, but to Armyn, it was not a democracy. He alone knew what was best for the country, and Cita could sense that her brother's intentions were to lead Alaeyas into war. I will not allow it, she thought — neither will Kaden or Mala.

"I've been sleeping," she snapped at him coldly. "On your orders, in case you forgot."

"Quiet," Willa grumbled, the old woman sitting on one of the chairs with a blue cushion for her weak back and her walking cane laying across her lap. "I didn't travel all this way to listen to you children squabbling."

She often dressed in comfortable grey or blue dresses and had her hair tied back in a bun. Her eyes sunk into her head these days. She was getting to the end of her years, but as a woman who had suffered the oppression of the Alae family for so long, her counsel was invaluable. Nobody knew the plight of the poor and sick more than Willa, who had lost two boys to sickness, a girl to complications at birth and almost her one remaining boy. He was a man now, healthy and strong, but he almost died from a strange illness that seemed to cook the victim's organs with a fever; the same sickness that brought an untimely end to her first two children. Cita remembered watching her father heal young Nate and how Willa cried with gratitude. The woman's lovely little grey squirrel chattered on her shoulders, but it was getting as old and decrepit as the Human it was linked to.

"So, no news on where Sir Kai has gone off to?" Zed asked - a middle-aged man with a handsome face, in spite of the wrinkles that began to sink into them. He'd been a member of the Royal Guard before the coup of Alaeyas, but now he served Kai as his chief adviser and bodyguard. His mouth was hidden entirely by his brown moustache, the same colour as the fur of the wolf by his side. "Is he alright?"

"I wish I knew," Cita was getting tired of everybody expecting her to know all the answers all the time. All she knew of her dreams today was that a red Pegasus showed her affection before it vanished into the fog. "I don't have answers. All I see is a red Pegasus."

"A red Pegasus?" Armyn remarked from his superior seat. He leaned forward, his crimson eyes narrowing. "What do you interpret that to mean, sister? There are no red Pegasi. Prince Wesley of Odesh has a red Unicorn, however. Is that what you saw?"

"I know what I saw," Cita replied bitterly, not even bothering to look at him. Rather, she scratched at Zed's wolf behind the ears, and the Familiar loved it, leaning into her long nails. I wish I had a Familiar of my own. "It was no Unicorn. Don't patronise me."

"So there is no sign of Kai," Willa summarised sadly, interrupting the two Zyrian children's attempts to snipe at each other. "What of Prince Ronan? Has Kaden had any luck trying to track him down?"

"There have been reported sightings of a silver Pegasus with a young boy who fits Prince Ronan's description," Zed updated her, extending his fingers and allowing the old, tired squirrel to climb down Willa's hand and sniff at his fingers. "He travels with an Iralian Lady, a boy, a girl and a rhinoceros Familiar. That's all the intel we have gathered."

"That's a pretty poor effort," Armyn remarked, rolling his eyes. "We need to find and eliminate that pesky Prince before Queen Ninon marches on us. We can't hope to defend ourselves against an invasion while our country is divided."

"We do not kill innocent children," Willa turned and pointed at him with her stick, a stern look on her face. She did not fear Armyn. "We spare the Alaeyan triplets by your father's decree!"

"Aye, a decree commanded when they were harmless little brats suckling at the teats of their wetnurses," Armyn had a petulant tone to his smooth voice. "They are sixteen now. Soren is married, and Orion soon to be, by Kaden's word. Ulisse is not a threat to us. Without their Krakens to fight their battles, they are nothing. Leave them to the Islands they love so much. Iralia and Eodanira share our borders, and both are ready to advance on us at a moment's notice. Half our treasonous country sides with the Alaeyan babes and the other half has no spine. What will we do when Eodanira seeks to put that slut Charlotte on a throne in our country? What will we do when Iralia invades us because our Father murdered that coward King? Tell me, my pacifist friends. What will it take for you to understand that no good can come from letting those Princes live?"

"We do not kill innocent children!" Willa repeated in a louder voice. "We are a stronger country than we have ever been before under the guidance of you, yours and us."

"So answer my question!" Armyn stood, taking steps towards the senior woman, who did not flinch at him. Armyn seemed to think that because he was a construct of Kai, people should fear and respect him the way they loved and respected his father. They did not. He was still only a child, especially in Willa and Zed's eyes. They watched the four grow from infancy to the teenagers they were nowadays. Zed's own children played with the Zyrian four as they grew up.

"Iralia has declared war. Eodanira has more or less done the same. Those who sat on pedestals kicked down by Father rally against us, and you all wish to complain about the killing of three useless little boys? Letting them live was my father's biggest mistake. I do not mean to let them destroy everything he has built. Surely three deaths are better than thousands of casualties of war? Their claims to the lost throne are gone with them, and we snuff out the rebellion before it begins."

"I think we can avoid war without going to such lengths," Cita told him, causing her brother to grimace and roll his eyes. "I have seen Queen Ninon in my dreams, and voices speak to her and tell her of plots and enemies. Likely Prince Ronan will have escaped to Odesh or Eodanira, but voices command her that we are responsible. If Kaden can only take the madness from Ninon, I'm sure she will see reason--"

"What if..." Zed began, but quickly he shut his mouth.

"No, speak!" Cita encouraged him, planting a kiss on his wolf's head and looking at the man.

"What if we eliminated Queen Ninon?" Zed asked, going red. He blushed more easily than anyone else Cita knew. "If... if she were dead... I know Sir Armyn is strong enough to do such a thing. If he were to veil himself as one of the Iralian Palace guards and got close to her..."

"Ooooh," Armyn's lips curled into a sly smile. "That is an interesting idea indeed."

Armyn was not as strong as Father; she knew that. But he was the strongest sorcerer of the four of them. He had power. A lot of it - more than us, maybe more than us combined. That was primarily the reason why Kaden and Cita tolerated him throwing his weight around. He was frighteningly strong and reckless with his sorcery. Still, this might be the part Armyn was born to play, Cita thought. Father always did say that while Armyn was flawed of heart, he was here for a reason, but when Cita asked what that reason was, Kai did not seem to know the answer. I understand now more than ever, Father, Cita thought to herself. I know what it means to have answers, but no questions. I believed you wouldn't tell me, but now I see that you couldn't.

"Killing the Queen or even the Princess will not do much good," Willa shook her head, her squirrel running back up her arm and resting in its favourite place - between her breasts. "You remove one tyrant, and another comes to take their place. Princess Melicent is the only daughter to Ninon, I grant you, but there will always be relatives to take the throne, and if you kill Queen Ninon, I guarantee there will be repercussions. Most unpleasant."

"So we're fucked?" Zed asked, bewildered. It does seem that way.

"We need the whole Council here," Cita bit her lip almost hard enough to draw blood. "We need everyone. We need to talk this out before we make decisions." Before we let Armyn turn us into a dictatorship, that is. "Send for them, and we will discuss what can be done about the rebels, Iralia and Eodanira."

"Oh, you didn't hear?" Armyn asked, and Cita went cold. She hated the tone in her brother's voice — that arrogant, smarmy tone. "Tracey is dead. Assassinated by the rebels last night, or killed on their orders, I don't yet know."

"Tracey? Are you certain of this?" Zed went white instead of red this time - what could be seen of his face, at least. "How could this happen?"

"Aye, that's a good question!" Armyn turned his back and began to walk from the throne room, his long, ruby studded cloak trailing behind him. To wear such wealth was as an insult to the Council in itself. Armyn knew that, of course. "You pacifist prats have your heads in the clouds. The rebels and the other countries do not play by your rules, and that is why we are doomed unless we use our advantage now while we can. They are willing to stoop to levels that you aren't. I don't intend to die with this country."

The day did not improve from there. Tracey was the beloved but loudspoken representative of the far north of Alaeyas, and she had been killed. By rebels, certainly. Word spread quickly, and chaos ensued in the Alaeyan Palace. People were scared. People knew that there would be conflict. It was inevitable at this stage. Where are you, Father? Why aren't you here to guide us? To help us? We've never needed you more than we do right now. As Cita put herself to bed during the late hours of the night, she prayed that she would not have dreams. She was not so lucky.

"Tracey?" A man, thirty years of age and tall with a slim, athletic body and a scorpion nestled on his shoulder backed away from her. "It can't be! You're dead! The demonspawn cannot cure death!"

"Aye, that is true," she heard Tracey reply. She was watching the scene from above. Tracey was dead, alright. Her brown skin had lost all colour, and her eyes were blood red. The skin around a puncture wound above her right breast had decayed and rotted. Poison from this man's scorpion. This assassin. "But I can cure the curse of life." Cita watched with horror as Tracey's dead, blue irises turned to crimson red, and Armyn's form took her place.

"You! Demon! You!" The man babbled, then quick as a snake, he grabbed a dagger from his belt and threw the blade at his attacker. It approached, stopping mere centimetres away from Armyn's eye. The boy smiled, and the dagger fell to the floor.

"You're going to have to try a lot harder than that!" Armyn giggled so innocently, but there was something so sinister in his tone that Cita felt sick. Armyn, don't do this! You will force us into war!

Armyn then raised his left hand and began to chant in ancient Zyrian. Cita recognised the spell he was readying to use and tried to beg Armyn not to, but it was too difficult to talk to him while she was in Dream State. She was not able to stop him, and even if she were there in person, she doubted she could have stopped him. He was so strong. Armyn's eyes began to glow red, and a bright red gleam shone from his hand, lighting up the room and scorching everything it touched. The man, lit up in red light, screamed long and loud in sheer agony, a screech so pained and horrible that Cita woke up crying.

Oh, Goddess! What has Armyn done?