#AtoZChallenge Letter W

Golden Queen

Orla woke as the sun made her decent towards the horizon. This was her domain, the magic hour. She stretched, yawned and dressed in shimmering hues of blues, pinks, oranges and searing white-hot yellow. Her ensemble bathed her in a golden glow, accented by the velvety darkness of her gown’s train and the cloak that caressed her shoulders. Stepping into the woods the folk of the land greeted her with a silent salute as they too awoke and prepared for the night’s celebration.

It began as a low whisper, hesitant as it tested the waves of air. Another joined, answering the call, confirming the time. Orla nodded and smiled. Slowly at first the chorus grew, tentative while the sun still cast so strong a light. As each second passed the sun slipped closer to her reward, and the voices swelled, singing the sun to sleep. Brilliant rays streaked across the sky as the lullaby reached its crescendo, the sun’s goodnight kiss promised to return on the morrow.

The silver wand held high in Orla’s hand, captured the promise and made one of her own: to hold the light safe until the sun arose once more. Orla held the iridescence wand before her for all the folk to see. They rejoiced for now they were guardians of the light. The cheers ebbed into the dusk and Orla placed the wand into the sheath at her waist drawing her cloak around her.

Photo credit: sappsnap via VisualHunt / CC BY-ND

The folk danced and sang with delight. In their exuberance, they burst into sparkling light, beacons rising with the breeze to float and flutter against a darkened sky. They drifted and frolicked cresting high above the trees lingering there to enjoy the view. Orla moved among the folk laughing at their antics, greeting each by name. She loved the folk, but each night at the nadir she thought of her sister and their oath. To protect the light, they agreed to a pact that would separate them, creating day and night. Each day her sister ruled, and Orla ruled the night. It was a sacrifice they endured to save the folk from those who no longer believed.

The folk never forgot, they never took the pact as their due. Each night they performed the ritual in reverence to their queen. They used their magic to bathe her in a light she could never see again. They helped her survive the hours until the break of dawn. In the morning, she would glimpse her sister and pass the light to her once more.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer