Heaven’s Door 1

Bhavesh donned his Varman piece by piece with a steady, practiced hand with Amaranth’s help. Their lavish room smelled faintly of incense, the sort that couldn’t be found anywhere beyond their palace. The servants had set the armor out after making sure to polish them to perfection. The gold surface gleamed under the light, sparking with the many enchantments woven into its very foundation. 

His ravishing wife lit the incense first and thanked the servants before closing the door behind them. Bhavesh raised an amused brow at Amaranth once they were alone. 

“Customarily, they would be the ones to help me put this one.”

“Customarily, this day is too personal to not have a personal touch. Stay still.”

Amaranth smiled serenely as she walked over. Her dress glittered with golden enchantments fresher than his armor did, though both had been forged and woven by her. His skills lay elsewhere. Bhavesh did as he was told, and Amaranth finished dressing him with loving firmness in her touch. Bhavesh watched the golden strands of her drape down from her head like a curtain, each one woven from the bounty of wealth itself. He admiring her soft fingers’ work, how they seemed to understand the idiosyncrasies of his armor so intimately well, and made it all behave so effortlessly.

“How long has it been?” He wondered aloud in a soft, gruff voice. “Since I wore this armor in earnest?”

“Twelve years ago. It was on Zravasya’s birthday.”

“Right.” Bhavesh chuckled. “He’d turned eight, hadn’t he? What an auspicious year. Men came down from the stars, claiming to be envoys of gods not known to us. It all seemed so ridiculous at the time.”

“You demanded proof and challenged the ‘Emissary of Om’ to single combat. Zravasya loved every second of you.”

“Such a proud man. He was so polite, but he never accepted a second duel in all the years he’s stayed with us as our guest. He’ll be at the ceremony, won’t he?”

“I’m told he and his retinue have already arrived. We’ve drawn quite the crowd across the two continents.” 

Amaranth hooked the last belt in place and Bhavesh grunted as it firmly tugged everything tight and proper. He chuckled and raised a gentle hand to Amaranth’s check, stroking it.

“You’re still dreading this day even though it’s already come? Our boy has been a man for quite a while, my love. This is a good thing.”

“Is it?” Amaranth’s gaze remained downcast in doubt before she raised her head to look into Bhavesh’s eyes. Her irises were like golden saucers of molten ocher. “We ended centuries of tyranny and brought nearly thirty years of peace. It’s all he’s known. That emissary was the last foe you’ve ever faced that has drawn blood.”

“A compliment, really. The men I’ve trained to protect our home are peerless. They hardly need me besides to train more of them to join their ranks.”

“Of course, you’re an excellent commander with the respect of all who know your name. But those men of yours have been dealing with the remnants of the old regime. Purist fundamentalists who want the old ways back.”

“Amaranth, please.” Bhavesh clasps his hands on her shoulders. They were pretty but solid, like the gentle curves of a hill. “They’re no threat to us. We can handle them and destroy whatever vestiges of those insane beliefs they carry. I don’t intend for Zravasya to inherit a mess he cannot handle. And even if he would, we’ve raised him to handle worse, haven’t we?”

Amaranth’s worry didn’t shift even a narrow bit. “Of course we have, but this feels wrong. The timing is wrong, the urgency is wrong, all of it is wrong. What’s brought them together now, pecking at our borders?”

“We cannot agonize over unknowns. That’s why we agreed to this ceremony—to prepare for the future, whatever it may brings.

“But twenty years is still too young.”

“He’s ready.” Bhavesh’ tone rung with certainty and pride. “So too will his brothers and sisters be, when they reach his age. This is no time to weaken on a choice we’ve already made.”

Amaranth’s frown relented under the force of his smoldering gaze. 

“We’ll guide him with all our knowledge and experience, whatever may happen.”

“We will guide him to lead a golden age long after we’re gone.” Bhavesh cocked a grin. “Though I’m sure you would outlive us all. Come, let’s not keep the people waiting.” 

~

The Golden Queendom, the Vrushali Dynasty, was a spanning sovereignty that covered two continents. It rose from the ashes of a war for the earth itself, reclaiming it from a tyranny that held control over it since the age of dust. They’d drained the ley lines dry and mined the life of the earth itself so its ruler could be fat and free of effort. The countless people who suffered at their hands each fought separate battles in the far corners of the world until they united in the middle and overthrew their oppressors.

The Vrushali palace was at the center of all the leylines, using geomancy to serve as the pacemaker for the veins of life. Slowly, the ruined world regained its greenery thanks to the passion and construction of this magnificent structure.

Today, millions of people from across the land gathered in the central courtyard. Neighbors of all kinds and origins stood hand and hand in the golden park where a festival took place. The queendom was a rich land and it shared its wealth in every conceivable way, much like the earth would share its bounty to any who worked its soil.

That was why they called her Pṛthvī Mātā, the Earth Mother. Amaranth Vrushali, the Golden Queen, the Firm Hand, mother of mothers, the custodian of earth’s bounty. The Blood of Monsters, as the old tyranny had dubbed the woman who stood for the people they’d dismissed as savages. 

Amaranth stepped out onto the high platform at the height of the long golden steps in her beautiful dress that billowed in the window. She stood barefoot, as she always did, in order to remain close to the earth and feel its pulse. The plaza erupted at her appearance and many of the older crown fell to their knees in worshipful prayer at the sight of her smile.

Beside her was Bhavesh Vrushali, lord commander of the Queendom’s military, warrior of the earth, and husband of gold. It was well known that he was of tyrant’s blood. He was a special guard that once protected the blue bloods of the old regime. Many believed it was Pṛthvī Mātā who drew his gaze away from his cruel beginnings and guided him to the better path. Others believed Amaranth fell in love with him first and it was her love that woke him up to fight at her side. It was hard for anyone but the two of them to say, and they didn’t talk much of their past to others.

Their pride, besides the thriving queendom and trust of their people, was their children. A dozen healthy boys and girls, each with the blood of both tyrant and monster, diluted together. They were absolute proof of unity and proof of a better future. Both their parents couldn’t possibly love them all any more than they already did.

And the eldest of them had just turned twenty. Zravasya Vrushani, the golden child. He’d grown up into a proud warrior much like his father, with his mother’s wisdom. He may well have been more popular than either of his parents. If he wasn’t yet, he would be in the future. Amaranth recalled many days and nights spent with him, teaching him about mathematics and nature, as well as the good manners to appreciate the universe that gave them so much to understand. He was a fully grown man, but all she could see in his chiseled dark face was the smile of the child who’d fall asleep in her chest and would toss in his sleep from a nightmare until she sang gently to him.

It was enough to make her break out into a sob.

Bhravesh gently guided her forward, over to her waiting children. Zravasya adjusted his posture to present himself proudly to his parents. The priest, one of Amaranth’s students bowed his head in greeting.

The ceremony was a simple but important one. Amaranth tapped her foot to the ground and the golden floor shifted under the motion, given permission that it longed for. An army of strong men wouldn’t be able to crack open this well guarded section, with the adamantine, mithral, tungsten, titantium, diamond, gold alloy she’d fashioned resisting any outside force. The floor opened up like a flower, emerging into a complex alchemical shape that was beautiful to even an untrained eye. And inside it was the Tear of the Earth, the crystallization of all the leylines coming together at just the right time in the right way under the alignment of planets.

Some would call it a Philosopher’s Stone. Amaranth called it the Womb of Rebirth. With it, the Elixir of Life emerged. Amaranth walked over and picked them both up as Bhravesh approached their son. 

And so the ceremony began. 

As the sun reached its zenith and the moon drifted in place on the other side of the earth, everyone knew their roles. The words to say, the steps to take, the places to stand. Zravasya took the elixir from his mother and drained it dry, lapping up every drink. And they all watched the transformation as his body was overcome in crystal like a caterpillar in a cocoon. The transformation took an hour—a miraculous period of time. And then the crystal shattered, casting the shards to the floor as Amaranth’s eldest child emerged.

Naked. Wondrous. Beautiful. 

Perfect.

“Never more shall you age. Never again will you fear mortality. For you have transcended the clay of the earth and emerged a fully baked pot.” Bhravesh clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder firmly with a big smile on his face. “You were the first among us, but the rest will follow. The Golden Age will be eternal.”

“You are now a Rebis, dear.” Amaranth breathed softly as her eyes misted with tears. “I never thought I’d see the day I could achieve this.”

“You’ll do it next, father?” Zravasya wondered as he examined his flawless body in awe. He turned his palm over and looked down at his legs as if he’d never seen such a perfectly chiseled sculpture before. In truth, he hadn’t. No one had. That was why everyone was staring along with him.

“I will. We thought you should be the first. Your mother will go after me, since she’s the only one who can do it so perfectly without having been complete first.”

“Mm. I doubt any but us three can manage it. I see where all her hard work has gone.” He clenched his fists and examined his muscles pulling under his brown skin. “For the moment, I feel peerless. Like I can do anything.”

“Oh? I don’t believe we raised you to have baseless confidence, Zravasya.”

Zravasya raised a brow at his father and took a stance, drawing the ceremonial blade at the man’s side from its sheath, pointing it provocatively at Bhravesh. The others chuckled as they took a step back, while Bhravesh raised a brow back at his son. Amaranth nearly choked up over how identical that motion of theirs was. It was like looking at a younger version of her husband.

Bhravesh drew his sidearm and aimed it at Zravasya, taking a mirroring stance. The two of them circled each other slowly and patiently, taking experimental stabbed in each other’s directions to feel the other out. Then Zravasya lunged, closing the distance. It was a quick, swift motion, as if he were the wind himself. Bhravesh deflected the blow, spinning his body and laughing.

“You’ve gotten faster.”

“Maybe you’re slower?”

“Mhm. What else can you do?”

Bhravesh’s strikes were quick and instant, but heavy and forceful. Zravasya blocked each one and the loud noise of metal rang through the air. The two began to pick up the pace, and soon normal people couldn’t keep up with the movements. Amaranth noticed it quickly; as he was now, Zravasya was definitely faster and stronger than his father. Experience kept the field even…except it wasn’t. Zravasya grew sharper and learned with each strike. He was seeing more, learning more, gaining more ground. Every blow from Bhravesh held the weight of a thousand lessons, and Zravasya was learning quickly.

“Lovely. You look lovely, Zravasya.” Amaranth cooed.

“A little too lovely.” Bhravesh chuckled breathlessly. He was now struggling to keep up with the swift blows.

“We don’t have too much time to play before the stars move out of alignment. We can play more when this is over.”

They sparring didn’t stop. It only intensified.

“Zravasya? Bhravesh?”

Bhravesh didn’t answer. His brow furrowed and his jaw locked in focus. Zravasya had an easy smile and a sharp look in his eye.

There was killing intent.

“Zravasya! That’s enough!” Amaranth’s voice became stern and held a heavy warning. The other children flinched as an awkward stillness fell over them. The urge to listen was strong—none of them dared challenge their mother when she was serious. 

Zravasya the Rebis dared.

“You know, mother.” He commented casually as he moved like lightning. Each swing and footstep broke the sound barrier and left a bang in his wake. “Right now, I stand alone amongst this world. I can see and hear and smell and taste so clearly. Do you know what I taste?”

Blood spurted from the blade cutting into Bhravesh’s side. Droplets splattered across Zravasya’s cheek. His tongue lapped across it and he smiled at the taste.

“It’s not enough. Hualcán was right. Gods shouldn’t live among mortals. It’s beneath them. Beneath us. Beneath me.”

Dread gripped at Amaranth’s heart as she processed the words reaching her ears. Were they real? They couldn’t have been coming from her son. They were the words the tyrant. 

“What has the emissary been telling you, Zravasya? Why are you fighting your father?”

“You’re not hearing me, mother. I don’t need there to be two of me. One is plenty. Your job is done. I don’t need you anymore.”

Spluuurt.

More blood. Bhravesh managed to drive his sword into Zravasya’s wrist, forcing it away.

“Your moves are repetitive and lazy.” Bhravesh leaned forward and glared furiously. “Did the emissary teach you to fight like this? To speak like that to your mother?”

Zravasya snorted and glanced at his pierced wrist. The blood was already drying and the wound was pushing out the blade. He grinned and golden energy began to surge from his body, expanding with force and power like an explosion. Amaranth rushed over to her other children, extending a hand to mold the golden floor into a shield to protect them.

“Shut up, mortal.”

~

The zenith of the palace was stained with blood. Unfortunately, it was just Bhravesh and Amaranth’s. The golden floor was torn apart and terraformed, turning the beautiful plaza into a storm of violent destruction. The husband and wife combined had been able to withstand the chaos and smother it long enough to give the massive audience the chance to evacuate. The pair of them had blocked every kick, every slash, every blast. If they hadn’t been able to, Bhravesh took the blow himself or Amaranth forged the palace into a wall to intercept it. 

“I admit, I really do respect you, father. To die standing, protecting your family. Lesser men wouldn’t be able to live up to their words.”

Zravasya was covered in wounds, too. But it was like stabbing stakes into a field of dirt. It didn’t really matter, in the end. He stood, untired, with a ceremonial sword in hand and a blazing circle of bronze circling his head like a halo. It was a magnificent, bloody sight. What was that shape? Amaranth scarcely recognized it. Or maybe she did, but she wasn’t really in the state of mind to think about it.

Bhravesh was indeed standing. His body was flayed and covered in bright red blood dripping from every inch of him. His armor was torn to pieces from all the blows it had weathered. 

But he was still standing. 

Amaranth was beside him, less damaged but also covered in wounds. A deep wound had pierced her side, but she ignored it. All she could do was stare at her husband as he took his last, shallow breath. She could see his last words even though she couldn’t hear them.

Take care of our children.

“WHY?!” Her cry was twisted with pain and confusion. All this time, she had not been able to attack Zravasya directly. She’d done her best to support Bhravesh and focus on keeping the attacks from hitting anyone else. She’d molded the ground so that the shelter she’d made for her children and the priest had sunk down miles below, away from the fighting. At least they’d be safe. “WHYYY?!”

Zravasya took a few steps forward and held his sword out, aiming the end at his father’s face. He locked eyes for a short few seconds without answering, before twisting his grip to hold the weapon in a reverse grip. He made an immaculate salute to the dead general, a true sendoff for a great man.

Then he stabbed the sword in the ground, sinking it into the gold. Lightning coursed around his body, generated by the tilaka on his brow, surging with more power.

“Be proud, mother. Your son will achieve heights beyond that which you could ever dream. You were content to build your home and live in content luxury with those you love. But the stories I heard of you and father during the fight for freedom are far more worthy of you. Those are the people I intend to surpass. You’ve raised a god, there is no shame in that. I thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart.”

Amaranth broke out into more tears and collapsed to her knees, clinging to Bhravesh’s hand. She hardly made sense of what her son was saying beyond her pained sobs. Zravasya watched her with a pitiful expression before he crouched down, picking up the Philosopher’s Stone, then looked toward the sky with a smile. The lightning crackled larger and louder, engulfing his body.

“The planets have moved. The time’s passed. I suppose I can leave you to rebuild. Next I return, it will be as a truer king. Good bye, mother.”

And he was gone, struck with flame and lightning, aiming for the heavens. Amaranth cried and cried, until her body could only know the burning pain in her throat.