Gemini

Raw, screaming, and deep fuschia, a new elf was born on the 22nd night of May in the year 13,561 a mere twenty-eight seconds after their twin. The birthing room was crowded and the breeze from the humid late spring night was stifled by body heat from the small throng of disparate priests and patricians. Births amongst the noble, long-lived elves were few and far between, keeping the steady transition of souls in constant balance. So, when the diarchs of Cha’haak announced the birth of twins and on such an auspicious day, rumors spread of these children and the shoes they had to fill. Each time the Nosticovs of Cha’haak birthed a pair of twins, something changed in the world and the city rose to higher and higher heights. These “Royal Twins” had ushered in the city's independence and brought the kingdom to its historic heights as a riverine trading empire. Now, with centuries of political stagnation and the increasing pre-eminence of Solasi trade, the arrival of twins was a site to behold for dignitaries from across the continent.

As is custom, the children were given their first names in a baptism in the Vtralus, its deep black waters filled with offerings of marigold, straw dolls, and lanterns. The older twin, a few silver hairs growing on their chubby head, was given the name Dvě Žralok. The younger, squirming in their swaddle, was given the name Dvě Opice. Celebrants followed the royal family and the court shamans to the gates of the palace where they could go no longer. Colored cinders burned from the citadel’s spires for twenty nights and then celebrations ended.

Exalted by birth, the twins were cloistered in the thick walls of the Haakan holdfast learning the esoteric ways of government and ritual. Many rough days were spent in the study with Scholar Jaroslav forcing the children to learn about the proper way to be Haakan. How to model and embrace duality, invoke sky and earth, rule as both benevolent mother and kind father. Before they had even learned basic arithmetic, Jaroslav told them of the cycle of elven souls and of the legacies they inherited. Stories of Hunaphu the Clever and Xbalanque the Strong filled the stifled air but as soon as the children had minds about them, they far preferred filling the air with the sounds of the startled yells and exasperated reprimands of castle staff. As soon as they were able, the young princes scurried about the secret passages and cavernous halls finding ways to terrorize the staff with pinpricks on cushions and spilled water on floors. Boredom ruled these children's lives. Their older siblings soaked up most of the attention of Jaroslav and the diarchs so the twins spent most of their days like this; exploring the labyrinthine, millennia old passages and causing ruckus were they pleased.

Even at a young age, Žralok and Opice grew tired of being confused for each other and the constant remarks if they can “read each other’s minds.” Servants started to take notice as Žralok’s interest grew in the ancient parts of the citadel and the old limestone pillars etched with frescoes and statues. Opice, always the wanderer, watched the river crafts sail by wistfully and dreamed of living free on the high seas.

As the twins approached the end of childhood and the beginning of adolescence, a new level of pressure was applied. Aapo and Babajide, the diarchs of Cha’haak, constantly reminded the children of the importance of this day - deciding the rest of their lives in honor of elves who’ve walked their paths before. Hunaphu and Xbalanque would make fine names wouldn’t they? Žralok found the name distasteful and strifling, no great ruler would come from them. Opice was strangled by this, they had their own heroes and their own destiny and didn’t want to be reminded of someone else’s expectations. Family dinners were never common in the Nosticov household - Babajide always said this was how nobles were - but they felt particularly straining under the weight of the twins' naming ceremony. Eventually, they couldn’t dodge the inevitable any longer and sunset fell on their 19th year.

As is tradition in the city of Cha’haak after a day of libation and preparation, Žralok and Opice crested the eastern stairway of the Temple of Ioun at sunset. Its clockwork mechanisms halted the hypnotic spiraling of crystals and runes whose meanings had been lost to time before the city's earliest days. Ascending the six-sided pyramid’s peak, they could see the expanse of the home they’d only caught glimpses of. The course of the shimmering jet-black Vtralus, the winding limestone buildings painted holy colors, and the whole blackstone valley painted with ochre and magenta tones. They smiled at each other and nervously chuckle looking at the palace on the western horizon. Balhum-Kuk, the lizardfolk who welcomed them into the world, recited scriptures of Ioun and Sehanine and Correllon. The rites were not short, even by the standard of Selasi sermons, but it seemed near infinite to the young twins as the last rays of light began to disappear over the mountaintops. Their hearts raced remembering the conversation they had had that morning. They weren't tacticians or charismatic or anything their parents wanted them to be. In that final quiet moment before the celebrations, when early morning light shown through stained-glass windows on the private breakfast nook in the castle, they squared away a plan of action. A plan to take their own names and draw their own destinies, become Hero Twins on their own terms - not their parents.

Caught up in the stress and excitement, Opice barely noticed when Balhum-Kuk handed them the thorny vine grown from deep in the jungle. They strung the vine through a hole in their tongue, bleeding the sacred royal blood of their ancestors into a vessel beneath them. Their mouth tastes like iron and the sour sweat on their lips. Opice could feel the black and white paint on their face begin to run as more sweat pooled along their cheeks. As the younger, Opice was the first to rise and proclaim their name. They rose, paused in the absolute stillness of the scene feeling their twin's presence behind them. Carefully, Opice walked to the alter atop the templemount and placed the vessel with their blood alongside the vessels of their ancestors. Turning to face the crowd, they said;

“My name is Itza Nosticov, I draw my name from the great captain Itza Novák, who battled for our people against the forces of Maro. With my life, I will be the first woman in my line to champion my own fleet and protect the mighty trade barges of our city from further attack. Of this, I proclaim to be this city's protector.”

In only three sentences, Itza Nosticov put a target on her back. Žralok followed quickly, despite the silent, stunned reactions from the crowd. They proclaimed their new name and intention to study the ancient past of this continent but was cut short by rising commotion from the plaza below. Itza and Ahtziri looked confused, they had expected a reaction but not this. Rushing up the steps, the Chajij dragged the twins off of the temple steps and rushed through them through secret royal passageways as Balhum-Kuk's plaintive excuses could be heard echoing through the old city.

The night that followed was arguably Itza's worst. Alone in an isolated parlor, she was made the subject of an interrogation. First by the captain of the guard, then Balhum-Kuk and Jaroslav, and finally her own parents. They asked her if she had been influenced by a spy, if she was under an enchantment, if she knew what she had done or listened to a single word they had said. They begged her to renounce what she said and when the begging didn't work they demanded. When the demanding didn't work, they hurt her. Ahtziri, the quiet one, was spared from the worst of it, but was made to watch their sister endure hours of physical and mental deconstruction, powerless to help. After the blood and tears and with the first light of dawn returning to the valley, Itza came to “an agreement” with her parents. She would not refute her identity or her aspirations, she would not budge no mater how hard they struck her. Always the more "empathetic" parent, Babajide allowed Itza to keep her name and her gender but at the cost of removing herself from the family. Her claim to throne, which would have been guaranteed even though Ahtziri and her were youngest, her assets gifted by birth, and any other claim to the family aside from her last name. Instead, she would devote her life to serve the family from the shadows as a member of the Atoye, a secretive police force in charge of special operations the family would rather keep below board. Itza wasn't happy with this result, being told she was no longer welcome all because she refused to be somebody she wasn't. What was worse, she was pushed deeper into the interior and made to spend the next couple centuries in service to the family she now despised. She was given cold comfort when Ahtziri was made to surrender their claim to the throne as well. Behind closed doors, Ahtziri asked to be given equal punishment, but the diarchs were shut to the idea that Itza was anything other than the mastermind to the 20 years of misfortune culminating in a national embarrasement for the family. In the eyes of their parents, Ahtziri was coerced by Itza to take some different name and couldn’t possibly be too much to blame.

By the next evening, Itza's bags of bare essentials were packed and she was sent deep into the heart of the Escarpment, to the furtive Fortress of Ixapan. She didn't get time to say goodbye to her older siblings and certainly not enough time to say all she wanted to Ahtziri. She didn't give her farewells to her parents either, even if she had the time, and she never saw them again.