To Carry the Fire

[Gutz 391]

-A BURDEN BESTOWED TO THE GREATEST OF AMADORS-

♪ ♫♬ ♪ ♫

That might save my skin, but it won't save my soul

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From Ashes, We Rise

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Golden light filtered through glassy windows and held undisturbed by not one breath. A young girl stood before the imposing throne of Karl III. The girl, naught yet nine years old, stared forward at the grandeur before her- eyes wide with determination and a touch of vulnerability. She’d clear her fluttering heart with a small hum, addressing aloud then:

“Vyr Majesty," she began, her voice steady despite her racing heart, "Ea stand before vy niet as a petitioner, but as a daughter of a once-proud house. Ea wished to apologise on behalf of mea Father- Filip Amador- for mea House’s inactivities and troubles" She’d add then, glancing up evermore at the king before her- a flame catching spark within her chest despite the rising anxieties. “If niet in mea Father’s lifetime, then in mea own Ea will correct our familial mistakes.”

 

The court was hushed, every eye fixed on the resolute girl who stood unwaveringly before the King. King Karl III leaned forward, his eyes locked with the girl’s– as if he sought the essence of her determination. "I thank you child," he said at last. “Though I do not blame your father either. He took up a monumental task that was not his to blame in any regard-” The King would offer kindly then- “but rather he was fighting a very difficult tide.

He tried his best, and that is all that could be asked.” And so days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The girl threw herself into her studies, engaging in a wardship under the King’s Palatine to teach her the arts of leadership and governance. She frequented the libraries, delving into historical accounts of great leaders and their conquests. She began attending court sessions, observing the King's decisions and the dynamics of power. But fate has a penchant for its own twists.

 

Her father had lost the fire long ago, leaving nothing but ash in his heart. And the evening after her declaration, her father– her rock of guidance– vanished without a trace. Search parties held by the House scoured, but he seemed to have been swallowed by the shadows. The girl ablaze was thrust into a role she had not anticipated so soon. Alone and burdened with responsibility, she now faced the colossal task of restoring her family's honor and status.

 

 

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Seasons passed and the girl unceasingly grew into her position as Matriarch of the Commoner House of Amador. Within her position, she answered a call from her Mother in Sedan- a call for aid to the growing Principality. With her ablaze heart, she gathered her siblings, Airomar and Ilaria- both eager for adventure-, and embarked on a journey to answer that beckoning call.

Sedan welcomed them with cobbled streets that whispered tales of the past and sprawling castles that seemed to touch the heavens. The woman’s mother, a figure of bittersweet memories and tradition, embraced her children with hesitation- as they were firmly Haeseni. They were home, in a sense, surrounded by echoes of their maternal roots.

 

The siblings found themselves captivated by Sedan's familial allure, and soon they were drawn into the world of governance, each taking up positions that suited their unique skills. The girl’s unwavering determination in particular led her to the Princess’ court, where she stood firmly by the Royal’s side to aid in event planning and counseling. She furthermore worked to rekindle with family lost by distance and time, as if the threads of their lineage were being carefully woven back together.

 

But fate has a penchant for its own twists. Just as the family found their rhythm, a sudden darkness descended upon Sedan. The King, a figure of stability, passed away, leaving the kingdom in turmoil. His wife, the Queen, disappeared, and with her, the stability that had anchored Sedan's future. The woman’s fire wavered, its flames flickering as the future she had envisioned for herself and her family dimmed. The once-golden threads of possibility seemed to unravel. In the wake of uncertainty, she made a choice that reflected her inner strength: to retreat to a quaint countryside home.

 

Nestled among rolling hills and blossoming meadows, the woman found solace in the embrace of nature. There, she married and gave birth to two daughters, watching their laughter dance amidst wildflowers. Time, like a wise sage, unveiled its truths. Her husband's passing marked a turning point. The eldest daughter, with a visage too akin to the woman’s, carried an unlit torch in her heart. If Amador were to succeed and fulfil her Kingly promise made all those years ago- they could not be fulfilled here and not with this flame-less heir. And so she packed their lives into cherished memories and embarked on a journey back to their ancestral land.

 

 

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The young heir, Nataliya, stood before her mother, the current Matriarch. Her eyes were wide as saucers, reflecting the mix of anxiety and trepidation swirling within her. The room, adorned with rich silks and lined bookshelves, seemed to hush in reverence as the weight of tradition and destiny pressed upon Mother and Dotre.

 

Listen well, Nataliya," the mother's voice carried the resonance of generations past, firm and aggravated. She blocked the door- yet regally, her posture straight and demeanour poised, though shadows of fatigue danced within her eyes. "Ea will only say it once, ag if vy do niet like it- vy ought to leave this house ag never come back.” 

The mother would pause, watching the child’s fear fester and grow- yet holding her still to listen keenly. “As the heir to our matriarchy, vy cannot frolic as the other children do. Laughter and play are privileges the heavens have stolen from vy, a weight now rests upon vyr shoulders. Ag if vy can niet comprehend that, Liridona will take vyr place easily."

 

Gravity was noticed within the mother's words, like chains being fastened around Nataliya’s innocence. She looked at the tapestries that lined the walls, each depicting ancestral leaders of bygone eras- all with stern gazes and solemn expressions. The weight of their legacy was etched in every paint smear. The room's grandeur seemed to mock the dotre’s youthful desires, as the firelight flickered like the enigmatic dance of fate. Naught a word other than “Da, Mamej- ea understand, ea will stay.” was uttered- and with that the young girl was dismissed. 

 

Once alone, the mother's facade crumbled like ancient parchment. She slumped onto the bed, shoulders trembling, as the mask of strength slipped away. The feverish glow on her face revealed the truth hidden behind her resolute demeanor. Polio, a cruel visitor, had stolen her vitality, rendering her legs frail and weakening her resolve. The room's grand tapestries now seemed like specters of a life she was never allowed to lead, a life that was overshadowed by her own lineage's loss. The legacy she was meant to carry had become an anchor, chaining her to a destiny she hadn't chosen. But fate has a penchant for its own twists.

 

The fire that had burned in her heart, the flame she had nurtured to guide her house to glory, now flickered like a dying ember.

 

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Nataliya… she's gone, mamej" the weeping Liridona’s voice cracked, her words heavy with sorrow. Yet, the girl’s mother looked on with a stern disposition, answering in turn with a distant sympathy, mistaking her for a stranger. Her brow furrowed, her voice filled with concern. "Yam sorry, but vy must have eam mistaken, for Yam niet vyr mamej- yet vy have mea condolences for this– Nataliya, vy speak of.” 

She’d clear her throat then, looking onwards to the lady before her- who had begun to cry. “Ea come to ask if vy have seen mea Father- Filip Amador. Ea have very important news to tell him. Ea must find him.”

 

Tears filled the dotre’s eyes as she reached out, trying to bridge the gap that separated their understanding. "Mother, it's me, vyr dotre. Please! Filip is dead, do vy niet understand?"

The mistaken woman shook her head, confusion deepening as she offered words of comfort. "Oh, my dear, Yam so sorry for your pain- again. But you must understand, Filip Amador is very much alive. Do niet spread such lies- vy torment eam so!” the aged woman would begin to weep alongside her dotre, the sundowning she was enduring drawing a deep divide that could not be crossed.

 

The daughter's heart ached, her grief deepening as she tried ceaselessly to bridge that divide. The elder turned to flee, to escape the unbearable confusion that enveloped her. But her steps led her not to escape, but to collision. She collided with a figure, a young boy with eyes that seemed to hold a spark of recognition.

 

The boy, Henrik, said naught a word- looking between his Adeymamej and Hauchmamej with uncertainty. However, the aged woman’s gaze remained firmly fixed upon the boy- searching for something she seemed to recognize within him. A fire in his eyes, yes! She could not place why such was so noticeable, but unbeknownst to her this was the very babe she held in the church that day. The very heir she adamantly told her dotre she could not be present for and could not give any ounce of love to– as she had done to her dotre. She had apologized that day in the church, and the fire within continued to flicker out since then. The woman stood as merely a glass chamber to hold the candle flame that held her steady. 

 

 

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“ Ea forgive vy, ag Ea will tell mea Children of vyr Greatness. Don’t vy worry mamej.”

-Nataliya Amador-

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Eyes aged to the colour of moonlight eyes snapped awake. A shiver ran through Olessya’s frail frame, her heart racing with an inexplicable fear that seemed to seep from her dreams into reality. With trembling hands, she reached out for the bedpost, pulling herself up despite the protest of her Polio-ridden legs. The effort was immense, her determination unwavering even as her body faltered. She clung to the post, her knuckles white, as she steadied herself. Her ashen head gazed upwards from the floor to her front, catching the steady gaze of unfamiliar eyes. Her reflection in the mirror across the room held a stranger's gaze.  Confusion clouded Olessya’s own eyes as if the mirror held a portal to a world she couldn't comprehend. Her hands flew to her face, touching her skin as if to confirm her own existence. The woman in the mirror was but an echo, a wisp of memory lost in the fog of dementia.

 

The scream that pierced the air drew Airomar like a moth to a dying flame. Panic etched lines on his aged face as he rushed into her room, his eyes locking onto the figure that once bore his sister's soul. "Olessya" he cried, voice laced with a mixture of concern and sorrow. But she didn't see him as he truly was. Her gaze met his, yet recognition remained elusive. Her feet carried her forward, past him, as if his presence was but a mirage. The painting of their father, a cherished heirloom, crashed to the ground as she stumbled, leaving behind a trail of fallen memories.

 

Olessya’s crazed dash took her through the doorway, out into the city's maze of cobbled streets. The unfamiliar faces, the bustling market stalls, a looming church– none of it resonated with her. Her surroundings felt alien, a tapestry woven with threads of strangers. She sprinted onward, heedless of the curious glances cast her way. Her breath grew ragged, her heart pounding not only from the exertion but also from the growing terror that twisted her senses. The world she knew had slipped away, leaving her adrift in an abyss of confusion.

 

The bridge emerged like a lifeline before her, a path leading somewhere unknown. She approached its edge, the river's surface mirroring her own turbulent thoughts. Desperation etched lines upon her face, and with a voice that trembled with equal parts anguish and plea, she cried out to the skies and the heavens that she no longer recognized. "Seven skies. GODDAN! Save me now—PLEASE!"

 

Her frail form seemed suspended for a moment, as if time itself held its breath. Then, with a final, desperate gasp, she tumbled over the ledge and into the cold embrace of the water below. Ripples spread across the river's surface, a silent requiem for a life that had been lost to the currents of memory and time. Haense continued its morning routine, unaware of the tragedy that had unfolded at the bridge. 

And Olessya’s body floated for a moment, a fragile vessel cast adrift in the river's embrace. Her face, now peaceful, gazed upward, the burdens of her earthly existence finally relinquished- eschewed of mortal existance. The freezing waters taking her under, the flickers of fire left in her heart extinguishing under the current. 

 

 

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From Ashes, We Rise

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Spoiler

Olessya’s main goal as a character was to see Amador re-vitalized, and now that it’s done it’s time to let her go. She was a character I immensely cherished and loved, so I wanted to honor her with a PK post. 

Thank you to everyone from the start and end of her life, especially those in Amador. Y'all are amazing.

 

[sondher 759]

Long had it been since Marina had found herself in the embrace of her family-- she had opted to estrange herself from her relatives on the mark of her sister's death. The youngest daughter of Olessya continued her spiritual trek across Aevos, completely unaware of the Amador household's recent misfortune, content with the idea that both her parents remained safe within the walls of Haense. . .

[Cheese 2307]

Liridona, the second daughter of the late Matriarch, stood in her mother's room. Or rather, she stood in the room that once belonged to her. A bitter taste filled the woman's mouth. Alone within those wretched walls, Liridona thought.

 

She thought of the words her mother spoke when she was to find out Liridona had her first crush on a boy, when the girl was naught more than 16.

"If he does niet want to marry vy- then vy failed vyr one job. Vy better have more men up vyr sleeve."

Liridona shuddered at the memory. Every day, she thanked GOD that the man she married was in fact, the one of her dreams.

 

She also thought of how, from a very young age, she stood in the shadows.

"Y'am her favorite, Liridona. She does niet scold mea anymore." The eldest of Olessya's children, Nataliya, once spoke to her twin. "Someday, nie body will remember mamej."

"Like they will niet remember mea?"

"That is in vyr hands, Liridona." That wretched fear of being forgotten. To prevent that fate, Liridona sought out such love. From her husband, from her siblings and cousins, from her nieces, nephews, and sons... But it was never enough.

 

It would never replace the love of a mother. The love Liridona herself would never know.

"Ea will be better... Ea will love them, ag Ea will never hurt them the way vy hurt mea." A solemn promise The Gem made to herself, and to her mother, that she would be the woman she needed, when she was naught but a scared little girl who cried for her mother to hug her, even for a few moments.

 

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Upon hearing the news, a horrified Ilaria Amador stumbled back, crashing onto her bed. A heartbroken groan sounded from the elderly woman as she tried to process it. Her older sister, the one she had looked up to and idolized... had finally departed.

Of course, beside the pain the golden-haired woman felt, perhaps a tad of relief resided in her heart. She knew how Olessya had struggled so long, both in terms of her health, and in trying to fix the mistakes of their papej.

 

Now, as Ilaria signed the Lorraine over herself, she prayed to GOD; "Please, Lord, let mea sestra finally rest in ve seven skies... she deserves to be happy.."

[sarahbarah 5021]

Amaya Milena, the Queen who too knows the burden of carrying the fire, reveres the fallen Matriarch with solemnity.

"You've done well, Lady Amador. Rest well - your flame will never flicker out."