Caelestis 5: The Eight Aids

Cognatus resisted the urge to cover his ears. The decibel level in the echo-prone throne room was near deafening. He could almost feel his teeth rattle.

But on the plus side, it was good to see all of his Greek nieces and nephews. Even if, when they were together with his children, they tended to break the sound barrier.

“Oh, c’mon, Ignis! Thalia so wants me!”

“Get over yourself, Apollo!” came Ignis’ reply. “Thalia dumped you three decades ago. She doesn’t want you!”

Cognatus rolled his eyes at the argument between his son, Ignis, and his nephew Apollo. It was over some Greek Muse or another called Thelma or Thalia; Cognatus didn’t exactly catch the name in his eavesdropping.

“Apollo,” Artemis sighed, “we just arrived five minutes ago, and you’re already talking about girls?”

Apollo smirked at his twin. “Would you expect anything else?”

Artemis snorted. “Forget I asked.”

“Consider it done.”

Cognatus watchedall sixteen of his youngest family members as they argued, laughed, or embraced each other.

His chest swelled with pride as he watched logical Aer and his philosophical niece Athena mildly debate about which situation—determining the numerical curve of a spider web or knowing how much air pressure it takes to lift oneself off of the ground—required more logic.

He nearly laughed at the sight of an amused Aquaticus giggling at the crystalline water figures that were spouting from the fluidity of Amphitrite’s nimble fingers.

And he smiled at the harmonious Phonascus, his youngest, who was singing to a nearly swooning Calliope about the latest melody that he’d created with his “clever wit and natural harmony”, as he’d put it.

Regardless of what they’d done, or why, he was proud of every last one of his children. They were good kids, and they never bored him. In fact, they were always coming up with new ways to amuse him, as any child would do when in the presence of his parent.

However, despite their good traits, Cognatus knew that they were being overshadowed by the bad ones. Aer and her daydreaming, Terra with her conservativeness, Ignis with his irresponsibility and narcissism, and little Aquaticus with her turbulent emotions were all something that they’d have to overcome if they wished to ever return to Caelestis.

Exiling them wasn’t something that he wanted to do. He’d seen Earth, with its many tribulations and evil creatures.

But he knew that his children would succeed. He knew from the very first moment they were all born that they would do something great. If they stuck together, they could do anything.

Coming to this resolution, he summoned them, as well as their cousins and other siblings to stand before him. Playtime and social hour were over.

“Aer, Terra, Ignis, Aquaticus. Step forward.”

Solemnly, the convened four rose from the crowd. ‘Funny,’ he thought, tugging his black beard, ‘I can see myself in each and every one of their eyes.’

Trying not to break down before their father was like moving a mountain. Seeing all of their cousins, as well as the rest of the Guardian siblings was a joy in and of itself. But the inevitable thought of leaving them all behind was blinding.

“Aer,” Cognatus said. “Ruler of the cardinal direction North and keeper of the wind itself, you are hereby cast out of Caelestis.”

Aer nodded blankly at the decree. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room boring into the back of her neck. Pained, she stepped down, allowing Terra to take her place.

“Terra, Ruler of the cardinal direction West and keeper of the elemental earth and its inhabitants, you are hereby cast out of Caelestis.”

Terra clenched her jaw in agony. She realized that she’d probably never see her home again. She stepped down.

“Ignis, Ruler of the cardinal direction South and keeper of the unruly flame, you are hereby cast out of Caelestis.”

Ignis, despite his semi joy at getting to experience something that no other Guardian, unless willful, had ever experienced, shivered with apprehension.

“Aquaticus, Ruler of the cardinal direction East and keeper of liquids and their factors, you are hereby cast out of Caelestis.”

Aquaticus nearly burst into tears.

Cognatus was regretful, but it was necessary. “Your mother wishes to see you now, in the throne room down the corridor; all eight of you. This will be the last time you see my face, for tomorrow night you will be cast out completely.”

At the lifeless looks he received, Cognatus added with a fatherly gesture, “May I encounter my last embrace from you four?”

He only had a millisecond between his sentence and the barrage of hugs that his children bestowed upon him.

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Algaia sensed her progenies approaching before they even poked their heads into the room. She could feel their mixed feelings: the agony of having to leave home, contradicted by the excitement of traveling to a new place.

“You wanted to see us, my queen?”

Algaia smiled. Her oldest, Candidus was standing regal before her. Tailing behind him forlornly were all the rest of her children.

“My son,” She said gently, motioning for him to come closer. “You don’t have to be so formal. I’ve told you before: I was your mother before anything else.”

Candidus let out a whoosh of breath. Relieved, he hugged Algaia. “Thanks mama.”

Algaia kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. “You’re welcome…Candi.”

Itio and Phonascus snorted with laughter. “Candi? What the—“

“Shut up,” Candidus growled.

Ignis snickered. “I got the same treatment.”

Even after a century of not seeing each other, her sons were still just as rowdy and as rough as she remembered. She saw that, aside from getting older and taller; they hadn’t changed since the day they were born.

Algaia smiled. “Phonascus, Itio, don’t tease your brother. You know how high-strung he is.”

Candidus gasped in mock horror. “Mama!”

Erato and Aquaticus giggled.

Her girls; all of them, just as stunning as the day they were born, balanced the boys’ ruggedness perfectly. They were all a perfect bunch of children, each stabilizing the others beautifully.

“My loves, please, you must not let your father find out about what I’m going to give you today.”

“What is it mama?” Aquaticus asked.

“Nothing dangerous…unless found by your father.”

Phonascus and Itio glanced at each other nervously, each registering their father’s temper.

Algaia continued. “They’re something that’ll aid all of you in keeping in touch with each other.”

“Are they some sort of communication devices?” Terra asked, tilting her head.

Algaia smiled. “Something like that, love.”

Closing her eyes, Algaia lifted her hands to her temples. The siblings looked on in wonder as her fingers sunk into the sides of her head, creating ripples, as if her skull were made of liquid.

“Mama…” Phonascus started.

Pulling her fingers free, Algaia reopened her eyes.

“What the…” Ignis mumbled.

Perched on her fingers, like two delicate birds, were two charms: a miniature hourglass and a pair of wing-like objects connected by two golden halos.

Silence.

“Mama?” Aquaticus ventured.

“Candidus, Aer, come here.” Algaia murmured.

The two glanced nervously at each other. Weaving through their daunted siblings, Aer and Candidus moved to stand in front of Algaia.

“Candidus,” Algaia spoke softly, imparting to him the hourglass. “This is for you.”

Candidus regarded the petite time-teller. He noted how the shine of it seemed to come from within, encasing the ornament in a dull, but evident, glow.

“So what does it do?”

“It has many uses, but I’m sure you’ll find one that suits you,” Algaia smiled secretively.

“A riddle,” Aer concluded.

“Yes, a riddle,” bestowing Aer with her pendant, Algaia continued. “And until you figure this riddle out, you must try your very hardest to remember who you are and where you come from.”

Reaching her hand into her chest, Algaia again produced two more pendants, a heart and a spiky flame-like charm.

“Erato, Ignis, these belong to you.”

Erato and Ignis stepped to their mother as Aer and Candidus had. Algaia pressed the charms into their palms, smiling.

Erato grinned at her adornment. “This would be a beautiful necklace; or, if it keeps glowing, a bracelet.”

Ignis frowned, turning his dull charm over in his fingers, and scoffed. “Mine’s retarded.”

Algaia stifled a giggle at her son’s aggravated expression. “Why do you say such things?”

“It won’t glow.”

Algaia grinned. “Yours is special, my son.”

Ignis glanced up. “What do you mean ‘special’?”

“I mean, your pendant cannot produce its own glow. The glow can only come from inside of you.”

Ignis shrugged. “I dunno know what that means but…whatever.”

Algaia rolled her eyes and laughed. “You will one day, Ignis.”

Ignis shrugged. Stepping back, he watched as Algaia’s hand once again sunk into her head, but this time, into her right eye.

“Now, Terra, Itio, my loves, please come forward.”

Dropping the two pendants, a beautiful, multi-colored rose and a sea vessel, into Terra and Itio’s hands, Algaia smiled.

“Mama,” Terra said, twirling the flower in her fingers, “what is it?”

“Yeah, I mean, what can this little boat do?” asked Itio.

“You’ll know one day,” was Algaia’s reply. “And last, but not least, Aquaticus and Phonascus.”

Aquaticus and Phonascus moved toward their mother curiously.

Reaching behind her ear, Algaia produced the last of the eight pendants; a crystalline tear drop surrounded by three halos and a shimmering musical note.

“Wow…” breathed Phonascus.

“These, my children, are for you. Take care of them.”

Candidus bowed. “Thank you mama, for these wonderful yet…strange gifts; we promise to take care of them.”

Algaia smiled sadly. “I hope you will, my loves. For the sake of remembering who you are.”