Chapter 8: Andromeda

The water was getting darker, and Andromeda knew that she was going to run out of daylight very soon. Still, she pushed herself deeper under the waves, trying to catch the fish that was avoiding her grasp. Her ears popped at the pressure as she took a deep breath, cutting through the gentle current with ease.

The tiny fish wouldn’t give up. It desperately tried to swim away from her, its orange scales sparkling in the rays of the lowering sun. Andromeda was just as determined to catch it. She used all of her strength to reach her arm in front of its path, swiftly trapping the delicate creature into her palms. Her feet quickly pedaled her up to the surface, Andromeda gently holding the fish in her hands.

Her head popped out of the waves as her face was met with fiery sunlight, the cool air already beginning to dry her face. She lifted her hands out of the sea, and watched the fish squirm, tickling the edges of her palms. She quietly laughed at the feeling. The confused fish was left to wonder how its swimming space had suddenly gotten so small. It frantically flipped up and down, trying to escape its newfound prison. The ocean was somehow big enough to save this creature from the hundreds of predators within it.

Despite this, the fish belonged to the sea. A new kind of freedom was found here, one Andromeda knew very well of.

She looked into the fish’s beady eyes, and let out a sigh.

All right, fine. You’ve convinced me.

Andromeda felt the fish leave her grasp, and fondly watched it slip out into the sea.

She looked up from the water and realized the sun was almost completely below the horizon now. The shore behind her sat far in the distance, almost out of sight. Andromeda hadn’t realized she’d swam out this far. She needed to start moving now before the last of the sun disappeared.

Without thinking, she dove into the water, breathing in calmly below the surface. She expertly kicked her legs, her arms pulling her forward. Most people wouldn’t be able to swim with such ease, but Andromeda had an advantage. She’d always been called to the sea, and she was fortunate to have her Gift cater to that. Sometimes she even wondered if her being born under the Fish constellation had something to do with her love for the water. Being able to breathe under those waves was a power that many desired, and Andromeda had been one of the lucky ones to have been born so strong with it.

Eventually, she spotted a large mountain of sand ahead of her. She was nearing the shore.

As the water became increasingly shallow, she slid her head out to the surface as her feet grazed against the seafloor. Her legs marched against the stubborn waves, fighting to keep her within its grasp. She began to twist the long, wet strands of her hair as she walked out of the water, leaving a trail of salty moisture on the drying sand.

The sun was now completely out of sight, but the sky was still alive with vibrant color. Exhausted from using her Gift, she set herself down to rest. She laid against the coarse sand, and stared up at the heavens, its light captivating her as white birds flew overhead.

With deep breaths, Andromeda closed her eyes, her ears filled with nothing but the sound of splashing waves.

She remembered how her father used to bring her to these very seas, back when she was just a child. Dipping her feet into the cerulean water as she dangled her small legs over the side of the dock. Her father would ready his spears, situating them into the grasp of his crossbows.

Andromeda recalled the first time he let her use them herself. She was only nine, a nervous, timorous child, yet her father stood at her side the entire time. She remembered his grey eyes, kind as they assured her, his arms steadying her body as she aimed.

That’s it, Andie, he had said. Hold it firmly, and focus on the direction you want it to go.

It wasn’t until the light completely faded behind her eyelids that she pushed herself to her feet, the ocean now almost black. The path back to her home was embedded in her mind, following it as she pushed past the swaying trees at the edge of the long beach.

Andromeda gently opened the front door, careful not to frighten her mother if she was nearby. She crept into the house, trying desperately not to make too much noise. She had stayed out particularly late today, so her mother might have been asleep, and Andromeda didn’t want to wake her.

Without the sunlight to shine through the windows, Andromeda was masked in the darkness of the hall.

Strange. Mum usually lights this room at night.

She entered the kitchen, and saw a small candle sitting in the middle of the dining table. It was the only source of light in the room, and Andromeda couldn’t see anything past its limited circle of radiance. She was starting to wonder if her mother was even home.

Perched on the table was an open book, its print a scribbled jumble in Andromeda's eyes. She assumed it must have been her mother's latest novel—or at least, in the works of being one.

She had left her reading glasses somewhere in the house before she had left for her swim. And with the dim lighting of the house, it certainly didn’t put her vision at much ease.

Andromeda grabbed the candle off the table and walked back with it into the ghostly hallway. She searched the side of the walls for the lantern that hung there, and after a couple of tries, used the tiny flame from the candle to ignite it. The hall became more visible as the bright lantern blazed, strengthening her radius of light.

Satisfied, she returned to the kitchen, and began to light the lanterns there as well. She could now see the modest furniture of her home: the soft couch she liked to rest on, the wooden shelf that held antique books from her ancestors, and the old fireplace that was rarely used. Since she lived in the Aquae Court city, one of the lands along the west coast, winters weren’t nearly as bad compared to the inner, or northern cities of Ophelia. Andromeda recalled the travelling expeditions she took with her mother to different parts of the kingdom, finding them covered with blankets of snow, and fierce winds cutting through the layers of clothing people had on. No matter how many coats she piled on, the chill still managed to follow her home for days.

She smiled at the thought. Things were so much simpler back then. Back when Andromeda could actually leave her home without worry. Settling down on the couch, she placed the lantern in front of her on the small table.

“Andie? Are you here?”

She heard her mother burst in through the front door, her steps loud in the quiet house. Eventually, she appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, having followed the trail of light. Andromeda was still there, resting wearily on the couch.

“Oh, thank the stars! I was getting worried when you didn’t come back before dark.”

“I’m sorry, Mum. I was only out for a swim. I suppose I lost track of the time.”

“Well,” her mother said as she briefly bent down and hugged her daughter, “at least you are all right. I’m happy to see you out of the house. You really spend too much time inside, my love.”

Andromeda glanced down, her lips pursed. She would love to be able to explore her world again, to visit the joyous markets and villages, the festivals and gardens, to travel deep into the mountains of near or sail away with her father to distant lands. But it was just too much of a risk now.

Her mum took notice of her quiet thinking. “I’ll tell you what, how about I make us some tea? Winterberry, your favorite.”

Andromeda looked into her mum’s eyes, and forced a polite smile.

“Thank you, Mum. That would be nice.”

Her mother began to warm a pot of water over a burning flame. Andromeda watched as she prepared the tea and noticed her tired eyes. With her father away so often, her mother was virtually the only parent in her life, and she used to be so close with her. Then the dreams began to happen, and Andie had shut her out. She knew she could never tell her mum about them. She didn’t deserve that on her mind, her daughter being some sort of abomination.

“Here you are,” her mother said gently as she handed Andromeda the steaming cup, delicate and white with a golden rim. She then sat down on the opposite end of the couch, her warm eyes fixed on Andromeda.

Andromeda took a small sip of the tea, and felt a tangy, burning sensation run down her throat. The sweet winterberry smell filled the small room, giving it a comforting aura.

“Did you hear about the king?” her mother asked amid the silence.

Andromeda shook her head. King Altair lived in the center of Aldebaran, the capital. The last time she had heard any mention of him was a while ago, when he traveled south for some borderly dispute with the nation of Bathaar.

“Well, they say he’s fallen ill with some sort of new disease. The medics are baffled! Even the Healers aren’t able to heal him with their Gift.” Her mum’s voice became increasingly louder. “I wonder if it’s contagious. We wouldn’t want this to be the start of some new plague!”

Andromeda’s eyebrows bunched together. “Where could he have possibly contracted such a thing? His Majesty doesn’t usually go out beyond the palace walls.”

“Yes, well, they really don’t know. I must say, if the Healers cannot help, then it must be serious.”

“What about his family? Have the queen or their son contracted it?”

“Not currently, no, though I can’t imagine how they must be dealing with it.”

Andromeda glanced back into her cup, looking to her left wrist. There sat her birthmark, a shape of oddly symmetrical circles and swirls, roughly the size of her fingernail, and much deeper in color against her already tan skin. It had been there all her life, and she carried the strange nervous habit of always rubbing over it.

“Why, what am I doing being so pessimistic? How was your swim, dear?”

“It was nice,” Andromeda mumbled. She took another sip of her tea, and felt the fatigue of her Gift slowly begin to creep up on her.

“You know, I’ve always been so fascinated by your Gift. You and your father have quite a power. What’s it like, breathing underwater?”

As a Phaser, Andromeda was slightly surprised at her mother’s fascination. Andromeda always thought the Scorpion’s Gift was much more alluring than her own.

“It’s like breathing normally.”

Her mother rolled her blue eyes playfully. “Well it must be better than that.”

Andromeda hesitated for a moment. “It is better. When you take a breath, you don’t really feel the water entering your lungs. You can explore the sea like no other, dive deep into the unknown, chase after fish as they swim far away from the shore.” She saw her mother’s eyes begin to light up as she spoke. “But best of all, you can do it without fear. Even when your Gift is drained, you know your limits and how far you can go. It’s an escape from the real world.”

“Well, that certainly is a lot more descriptive than your father. All he said was it is easier to catch fish.”

Andromeda gave a small, tired chuckle, the small orange fish popping back into her mind. “He isn’t wrong.”

Her mum smiled warmly. “Now there’s the Andromeda I know.”

✦✦✦

Andromeda woke up to the clash of swords and dust clouding her vision.

Getting up on her feet, she hazily noticed blood splattered on the ground, some of it a fresh crimson red as it pooled together in the rocky, uneven ground. As she tried to grasp her surroundings, the whole scene unfolded before her.

Soldiers lay dead on the floor, their bodies mangled and broken, as though they had been slain by some vicious beast, unrelenting and unmerciful. Their eyes stared up into the sky, every bit of life drained from them.

Andromeda stumbled back with a gasp, the gruesome sight making her heart pound. She forced herself to look away, but what she saw instead wasn’t any better.

Beyond them was a fierce battle, taking place in the backdrop of a ravaged city. Something told her it was once Aldebaran, but there was nothing left to confirm it. Her people, with all their Gifts and glory, were fighting a strange army. They came in swarms, their silver armor winking in the fire around them. They let out a war cry, voices and swords raised. Her people yelled with them, a collective roar that sent a shiver down Andromeda’s spine.

“What is happening?”

A loud, anguished cry came in response, and Andromeda turned to see a soldier on his knees, cradling the body of another. She squinted, trying to make out either of the boys’ faces, but the dream cast them in a blur. An arrow pierced through the fallen one’s heart, and the boy holding him was covered in blood, his armor shining with it. He held the dead soldier tightly, oblivious to the carnage not far behind him. Other warriors rushed past him, stepping around their fallen brethren.

“We need to go!” one of them yelled, grabbing the shoulder of the grieving one.

Tears dripped from the boy’s face. He violently shook off the other man's hand. Gently, he picked up the body, his fingers trailing over his face. Andromeda couldn’t see it very clearly, but it looked as though he were closing his eyes, as if to hide the war that had killed him. The boy slowly stood up, staring at the broken body of his friend.

“I swear to you, I swear by all the stars and beyond, I will avenge you.”

The boy was still gazing at his friend in his arms when the men suddenly disappeared in a flash of dust. The dream wouldn’t let her see more of their story. Andromeda tried to call after them, but her voice wouldn’t form the words she wanted. She watched the group run back into the battle. She tried to follow, to see what her people were fighting and why she was having this dream. She took off in a desperate run.

Before she could get near, something glinted in the corner of her eye, and she whipped around to see an arrow heading straight for her head.