Friday, June 10, 2022 Galt Winery, Sagaponack, Long Island, New York, United States

“Ummm, ma’am,” said a young kid, “your eyes are glowing white. And…” his hand was trembling as he pointed at her, “you are wearing a crown?”

Ella took a moment. This wasn’t a young kid, he was maybe just a few years younger than her.

“You are right, ummm… sorry?” Ella blinked a bit and let her eyes fade. The sounds outside the doorway had stopped and she had head down to check on Charlie.

Her eyes dimmed, the harsh white light in the room fading, replaced by the dimmer, warmer light of the ceiling lights. The stone room was filled with barrels and people, many of them huddled together.

Ella checked her handgun - empty. She looked around and then put it down on a barrel carelessly.

“Is anyone hurt?”

A few hands were raised and Ella looked at the wounds, they were mostly superficial. The boy who had spoken to her was one of them.

“Here, I am not going to hurt you.”

She smiled at him, “My name is Ella…”

He hesitantly came forward, “I’m… Roland.”

Ella spoke to him like she would a skittish animal, “Roland, I can help you out, but my eyes are going to glow a little bit. Okay?”

The boy’s eyes were wide and he was trembling. But he was young, and this girl who had helped save them and was beautiful and kind had asked him, so he stood up straight, “No ma’am”

She looked at the wound, it was a bad scrape from when he had crashed into something running. Nothing too serious though.

Her eyes glowed for a moment and the wound slowly faded. Everyone around her was silent, staring at her. First the beginnings of the swelling disappeared. Then the scrapes themselves started closing up into a few red streaks and then into shiny white scars.

Ella wiped her brow, “Sorry…. that is the best I can do.”

He nodded… staring. He got up and ran into his date, who had her phone out and was recording what had happened.

“Zaidu!” Ella barked, “Your hand was not up. Get over here.”

Roland watched as a man in a torn and scuffed tuxedo walked over. He had a severe face, ruddy brown skin, buzz cut graying hair, and moved with an economy of motion. His steps were exact and precise and balanced. He had a cut along one arm that was bleeding, visible against the midnight blue of his tuxedo only because of how it shined. He was holding a handgun and kept it on the stairway into the cellar.

Ella took a knife out, some strange matte thing, and cut away at the sleeve, hissing at what she saw. The man, Zaidu, didn’t react, just kept his eyes on the entry.

The sleeve, once gone revealed a clean gash, straight across his left upper arm.

“Muscles cut, this one will be tough.”

“There is no need, my Blessed Goddess,” he said. And there was a susurration in the room at the reverence in his voice and the title.

“I will tell you if there is no need…” Ella said. She was staring intently and room was again covered in harsh light. The crown began forming on her head, an Eastern-style tiara with three points. He saw a bead of sweat on her, and she was murmuring. “In another collapse, your wound didn’t happen this way… Oh, that is too far for me to reach, maybe it was just superficial? yes… you moved away just enough that it cut, but not as deep.” The light was more intense, her eyes glowing brighter and brighter, until nobody could quite look at her.

Suddenly the light extinguished, and it might as well have been dark, until everyone’s eyes adapted to the reduced light.

Ella stood up, grabbing onto the soldier, Zaidu, and looked around, “Who is next?” She was trembling and looked exhausted and when Zaidu protested she looked at him and smiled and put a finger on his lips, “No time like the present I suppose…”

There was another flash of light from her eyes and the crow appeared. People cried out as if they had been blinded by a flash.

Zaidu staggered back and almost fell, his poise entirely gone.

“What did you do?” he growled. He looked angry and shaken. “What the hell did you do?”

“Freed the Aqrabuamelu,” she said. “Do what you want now… Be who you want to be. But not a slave. Never a slave again.”

Zaidu was shaking and at that statement, he took his handgun from pointing at the entryway and pointed at Ella. But he looked lost, confused… he looked like Roland felt.

“Why? You need us! The Thousand Kingdoms come and it will be war. We are your arm, your might.”

The woman, Ella, stood calmly, having ceased trembling. She drew herself up to her full height. The crown glowed on her head and settled into looking less ghostly and more real. But Roland had never seen anything as real as that crown in his life.

Her clothes began to transform. Back into a version of the saree she had been wearing, the pants disappearing into folds of gold fabric. Her plate carrier vest melting into an intricate shawl… It was shining and painful and lovely and neither Roland nor any of the others could look away.

“Zaidu, we are Crown Princess of the Thousand Kingdoms. We are Blessed-Innana Reborn. And we would rather die than have slaves.” Her voice thundered in the stillness, echoing through the cellar, louder and more real like the crown.

She smiled like a saint, calm and serene, “You can choose service, and we will use that service. It will be horrible and blood and death and make Kur feel like paradise. You can choose to walk away. But you, and all the Aqrabuamelu, will choose.”

Zaidu looked at her and he stood still. He then did something that Ella had never expected, he smiled, “You human vermin were never that smart…” and he got to his knees and put his forehead to the ground.

“Hail Crown Princess of the Thousand Kingdoms. Hail Blessed-Innana Reborn. I pledge my death to her.” He said, his voice loud despite being to the ground.

She smiled gently. “We would rather you pledge your life. But so be it. Get this area secured. Get me some real weapons. And take Kothin in custody for interrogation, but do not harm him, yet.”

She stood tall, there was a muffled gasp, but people were afraid to move. She looked around and pointed to a woman in a cocktail dress, “You are hurt, come here.”

The person she pointed to stumbled forward, eyes stuck on the body of Everett Marr on the floor. She was holding her shoulder, where one of the attackers had stabbed through her as she had fled.

Ella’s eyes became bright again and suddenly the woman’s shoulder felt a lot better. She talked to the bodyguard who she had pulled in and healed the skin over the stump, apologizing for not being able to do more.

Ella kept going, even as she stumbled and had Zaidu hold her up.

Eventually the crown faded as did the ornate saree. The people in that room, cynical billionaires, politicians, their assorted hangers-on, all felt the loss of something, the return to the mundane.

Zaidu, the soldier who had been holding her, sat guard over her when she fell unconscious. A burst of static from his pocket did not even have her move, but he motioned to Charlie who came over and he handed his handgun to her to watch over Ella.

“The winery is secure.”

There was a heavy knock at the door and Zaidu and a burly guest began to remove the wedges that Ella had hammered into the sides of the door, each one taking both of them to pull out.

When they emerged outside, Zaidu carried Ella in his hands, Charlie at his side. The inside of the winery was already transformed. The upper windows were closed off entirely with steel plates. The inside had soldiers at every vantage, and outside, APCs awaited to take the guests to Fort Hamilton. The sound of helicopters buzzed through the air.

The High Priestess stood there and looked around. Her eyes widened when she saw Kothin accompanying Zaidu and Ella.

And she raced over to Zaidu… “What happened? Is Eleanor okay? I felt something… something is very different!”

Zaidu looked at her, “She is fine. But…. she freed us. All of us.”

Arcsa who was nearby looked and nodded, “That is what I thought. Why now? In the middle of combat?”

They looked at Ella, in Zaidu’s arms, and Zaidu said, “Because she isn’t that smart.”