"Good morning, Daddy," Annabel says as she dusts her fingertips over the shorn head of her father. She smiles, truly cheerful. "It's so good to have you home for a change."
"You're in a good mood, Annabel," her father's voice rumbles. "Is something wrong?" He fixes Annabel with a scrutinizing stare before taking a sip from his coffee mug.
Annabel laughs and throws her arms around her father's neck, just like she used to do when she was a little girl. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong! I'm just glad to see you! You're always off doing some important philanthropist thing, and even though we talk over the Pholio, it's still not the same as having you home!" She kisses him on the cheek before practically skipping off to the kitchen. "Do you want more coffee?" she calls.
"You don't drink coffee."
"I was asking for you, Daddy," Annabel replies, peeking her head out from around the corner of the partition. She ducks back in the kitchen before continuing. "You're right, though. I've never had a liking for coffee. I've always been more a tea person myself..."
Annabel continues to talk, just generally glad for someone to whom she can speak. Lonliness does induce a terrible affect on generally sociable creatures such as she, her father realizes. Tirival had never been much for social endeavors, but he never had the heart to quiet young Annabel.
Suddenly, he rises and puts his coffee mug down on the table. He lumbers with the stiffness of early morning to his study. He begins scanning the shelves. All of the books are out of order, he notes with a smile, because Annabel reads them so often. One book, by the ancient old-Earth author, Poe, is so worn and tattered from her readings of his poetry and horror stories. In fact, it is because of that book that she chose the first half of her name.
Tirival smiles with recollection as he recalls the day when Annabel decided upon what he had initially thought would be her full name. She had read Poe's poem, "Annabel Lee," and found herself so taken by its haunting beauty, she christened herself by those names. However, she was in no ways finished naming herself. He had left on to deal with business elsewhere, and when he returned, he found little Annabel reading of the conspiracies surrounding an old-Earth leader's death. The accused assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, was killed, and for a good part of the next century, absolutely nothing was ascertained concerning the death of the leader, John Kennedy.
Annabel was so taken by that tale of strife, that she felt induced to honor the past. She finished her name, much to Tirival's dismay, finalizing it. She would forever be known as Annabel Lee Harvey Oswald. It was eerie how the two names fit together so perfectly and sounded like a rushing stream of some bizarre current of energy. And energy she had had. Even now she still possesses it.
But energy, especially uncontrollable energy, like that of his sweet Annabel, is dangerous.
Suddenly, Annabel peeks around the corner and smiles. "Oh! There you are! Your coffee's getting cold. Would you like me to reheat it?" she offers.
Tirival wonders just how a sweet, innocent child can spell the undoing of anyone? He nods slowly. "That would be nice, Annabel, thank you."
Annabel heads off to reheat his coffee, and Tirival continues to stare at the bookshelf. Suddenly, he notices something extremely out of place, as in 'not even there.' "Annabel?" he calls.
"Yes, Daddy?" her voice is sugary sweet.
Tirival almost wants to scream, but years of various stresses has taught him that he knows better. "Where is my book?"
"Hmm? Which one, Daddy?"
"The Chronicles." It is the only book in the jam-packed library he refers to as his.
"Oh. I lent it to Franq and Däv. You really aren't due back for another month or so. You don't mind, do you?" She fixes him with her leafy green eyes.
Leaves, Tirival thinks. Those haven't been seen on World since the arrival of that forsaken egg. He let the aggrivation at the destruction of the nature of World pass over him before turning around and letting his eyes smile for him. "Of course I don't mind, Annabel."
"Oh, good. I know it's your favourite book in your collection, but I'm sure they'll take good care of it."
"I am, too, honey."
That little ordeal over, Tirival turns back to the shelves of books in the tiny study. All his life he has collected things, and each time he has grown weary of his collections. First, he had collected various gizmos from the ships that landed with the colonists. Then, after he bored of that, he began collecting floraculture, even though he had seen it all his life. Then, when the egg arrived, and all its evil with it, the flowers withered and died.
Tirival had hated the egg ever since it destroyed the flowers of World, and he designed the labyrinth with the use of the smallish beings who inhabited the area. Using them, the labyrinth was constructed, and the egg was placed in the very center, guarded by three of the eight Sacred Gates of the inhabitants. There, it would remain, until one day...
"Oh, yeah. Daddy's in the study. Can I get you anything, Mel?"
"Just some citrus would be nice, thanks."
"You got it!"
Carmelotto knocks on the doorframe to the study. "You wanted to see me, my liege?" he asks.
A smile plays on the lips of Tirival Hend. "You and your accursed formality. Come in here and sit down, Mel."
Carmelotto enters the study and takes a seat off to the side of his master. "You're not due back for another month. What's happening?"
"The Inhabitants are organizing. They're preparing. She's going to destroy it all soon."
Mel nods. "What do you intend to do?"
"Well," Tirival begins, but he is interrupted by Annabel's loud announcement that she is entering the study with Mel's citrus. She had learned early on that when there were visitors strictly for her father, she is not permitted to assist in entertaining them. The conversations are always very private, and she should not worry herself about them. She should just be a good girl and read or something.
"Can I come in, or should I just leave it out here?" she wants to know.
"You can come in, Annabel. We were just talking about you," Tirival explains.
Mel gives him a look of wide-eyed horror. Tirival, however, smiles and turns to face her as she places the citrus drink on the desk. It, like all other edible substances on World, is made from a cultivated all-purpose substance that is flavored heavilly with chemicals. She places her father's reheated coffee next to it.
"All good, I should hope."
"Always, Annabel," Mel sighs, taking the citrus and sipping from it so she wouldn't see the lie written on his face.
"Ah, well, now. I'm going to leave you two to your own devices. I'm going out with Franq and Däv, and that means you two will have run of the house."
"Teriffic!" Tirival exclaims, clapping his hands together. "It's so good to know you take a sincere interest in these children!"
Annabel nods, her eyes suddenly distant. "Anyways, I should be back by late afternoon. Is there anything you'd like for me to pick up while I'm out?"
Tirival seems to consider this for a moment before shaking his head. "No, honey. Go have fun with your friends."
Annabel beams, and Tirival again regrets what he must ask Mel to do. She kisses him and glides from the room, closing the door behind her as she goes.
Carmelotto sighs with relief, and Hend shakes his head, a look of pain on his face. "She'll be the death of us, Mel," he admits.
Carmelotto looks a bit puzzled. "Sir? Begging your pardon, but how can Annabel be the death of us?"
Tirival Hend takes a deep breath. "It is written," he says, "that this world was once beautiful. I know this is true, for I have seen it with mine own eyes."
"I don't think I follow you."
"I am, as you should have gathered by now, far older than I appear. I am the son of the soul of this planet, World. I am her true ruler, and so, I feel everything she feels, for she is my kingdom."
"But... how?"
"Living in this technological society as we do, I'm not surprised you would laugh at the notion of magic. However, it is that force, deep ingrained in my soul, that permits me to retain this form."
"So Annabel is the grandaughter of World?"
"No. Annabel is the spawn of my own design, completely lab-born with only a sampling of my own cells for the sake of the records. Thus, she resembles me only vaguely, but enough to allow her to pass as my child."
"That's twisted."
Hend nods. "Not nearly so twisted as her fate."
"Oh?"
"Long ago, when your people were first landing, I sought power over them, as was my just lot, for I was World's son. However, the humans would not have me for their ruler, and they began destorying the subtle, harmonic beauty of my home. Then, to make it worse, a second outsider came, and the destruction of my kingdom intensified. The second one was a simple egg, green and yellow, but it carried with it such feelings as I had never before experianced. It had been snared in wretched creature's claws, but what creature it had been, I could not tell, for it was only the claws that remained of it. Nonetheless, I was curious. In my youth, I had always been curious. I tried to hatch it, but the egg would not crack. Then, the book came."
"Book, sir?"
"The Chronicles of Dendrinla arrived to me in a manner quite similar to that of the egg. It explained to me, in its odd words, that I was destined to shape and cultivate my home to some horrid, dispicable creation, to prepare it for the coming of my child so that she might succeed where I had failed. My anger intensified, and World began its irrevocable decline. There was nothing I could do, so I built the maze."
"The maze?"
"I have constructed a massive maze of various designs beneath the Chair's Estate. It is there, in the true center of the labyrinth, that the egg is hidden. If Fate wants my Annabel to have the accursed egg, she must guide my Nabel through the maze, passed my traps, against my perils, all successfully. Otherwise, the egg will remain there, and never shall World be destroyed."
"You said Annabel would destroy us all."
"She will, if she hatches the egg. When the dragon within the egg awakens, it will release all the negative and positive energies that have ever acted upon it, and Annabel will become so much more able. The influence of my genetics and the magic that created me will pulse through her very soul, and understanding will wash through her. There is but one option."
Mel listens, wide-eyed, but he says nothing. He knows better than to ruin the moment his master has been waiting for.
"Death. Carmelotto, I charge you with this difficult task. You must kill my Annabel tonight. If you find this impossible, for she has evaded my attempts for so long, engineer it so that she arrives at the Chair's Estate. If she comes accompanied by the boys, kill them, too. It would not be good for them to know of the true nature of the Benevolent Chair."
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