They came one by one, silk robes rustling, hair streaming down their backs or towering over their elegant heads in grand chignons. The Council banners unfolded over the round stone table, hewn from precious marble in times immemorial—red and orange, purple and blue, pink and green, black and white, brown and silver. The circle was closed.
The golden banner remained folded, waiting for the moment when the voting would be done and the imperial crown, its sharp spikes rising in the middle of the table, would adorn the head of the Immortal Empress.
One of them was destined to leave their planet tonight, traveling through space to her future consort, never to return home again. The ceremony was always conducted at sunset, when the endless ocean, nursing the granite mass of the only island in its midst, was at its most beautiful. The fiery star on the horizon bathed in the deep waters, coloring them the shade of blood.
The tall windows were open, and the wind played with the scraps of silk they had to place in the carved chest, guarded by an angelic-looking girl—one of the future cohorts. The other maidens stood silent guard next to the windows and the majestic ornamental door, waiting for the twelfth strike of the clock.
The twelve around the table had also once been like that—pure and eager, carefully selected from all the planets of the Empire for a life of seclusion, duty, and training. Brought here when they were barely able to walk or talk, they knew nothing else, having forgotten their parents and been given new names.
The clock echoed in the hall, and they rose from their chairs. One by one, they approached the chest, dropping the silk scraps until the few colored pieces were buried beneath the abundance of white.
The choice was made and the golden banner fell down. The young woman with a mass of wheaten curls and eyes the color of deep azure bowed to her sisters, putting the crown on her head.
The White, like the others, had been taught never to be angry or resentful, so she only smiled, as the others left the room one by one. From now on, the Council of Silk would follow her orders, sent with Imperial Dispatches, and choose wives for governors and generals. She would never utter a word or move in public—becoming the living goddess and embodiment of the Imperial spirit, the one who is forever silent and still.
The maidens had also left the hall, and the ocean darkened under the shadow of the monstrous spaceship descending from the twilight sky. Her time had come and, spreading her arms, the White jumped from the window. Catching the wind, she soared toward the ship.
The golden banner remained folded, waiting for the moment when the voting would be done and the imperial crown, its sharp spikes rising in the middle of the table, would adorn the head of the Immortal Empress.
One of them was destined to leave their planet tonight, traveling through space to her future consort, never to return home again. The ceremony was always conducted at sunset, when the endless ocean, nursing the granite mass of the only island in its midst, was at its most beautiful. The fiery star on the horizon bathed in the deep waters, coloring them the shade of blood.
The tall windows were open, and the wind played with the scraps of silk they had to place in the carved chest, guarded by an angelic-looking girl—one of the future cohorts. The other maidens stood silent guard next to the windows and the majestic ornamental door, waiting for the twelfth strike of the clock.
The twelve around the table had also once been like that—pure and eager, carefully selected from all the planets of the Empire for a life of seclusion, duty, and training. Brought here when they were barely able to walk or talk, they knew nothing else, having forgotten their parents and been given new names.
The clock echoed in the hall, and they rose from their chairs. One by one, they approached the chest, dropping the silk scraps until the few colored pieces were buried beneath the abundance of white.
The choice was made and the golden banner fell down. The young woman with a mass of wheaten curls and eyes the color of deep azure bowed to her sisters, putting the crown on her head.
The White, like the others, had been taught never to be angry or resentful, so she only smiled, as the others left the room one by one. From now on, the Council of Silk would follow her orders, sent with Imperial Dispatches, and choose wives for governors and generals. She would never utter a word or move in public—becoming the living goddess and embodiment of the Imperial spirit, the one who is forever silent and still.
The maidens had also left the hall, and the ocean darkened under the shadow of the monstrous spaceship descending from the twilight sky. Her time had come and, spreading her arms, the White jumped from the window. Catching the wind, she soared toward the ship.
