Gemini

By Anonymous

Prologue
     In the darkest recesses of a castle, where the light is afraid to reach and even the grungiest scavengers and rodents hesitate to venture forth, a princess rests in chains.

     It is not a comfortable rest. The princess does not want to be locked away from her stunning perch up above, from which she can admire the sprawling landscape where the leaves have just begun to turn orange and the earth she so dearly loves returns to slumber.

     But she does not have a choice.
     The princess cries and screams, begs and pleads, but nobody can hear her. Or, if they do, they do not care anymore. This is not her castle anymore. She has been forgotten.

     Though when her numerous captors finally arrive, streaming from the stairs like a river’s current and fanning out around her in the cavernous gray chamber, clad in dark, flowy velvety robes and eyes downcast, they find the princess quiet. She is too prideful to show her fragility openly, instead bearing the last remnants of her strength and hope with as much dignity as possible.

     The princess tries to stay as still as possible, making as close to no noise as she can. She holds her breath, appearing almost like an inanimate fixture of this prison that had been there forever. Then—jarringly—she lurches forward and yells.

     One of the shorter ones, a boy with wide eyes and the look of a youth still growing into their newly large body, makes the mistake of looking up at her.
     That one, the princess knows, will never be allowed to touch the earth again.
     Seizing the opportunity, her willpower surging within her at her captors’ glances, the princess desperately casts out her thoughts to the few friends she still has. It is not easy to convey a message so far, especially when fully entombed in the stone as she is, but the princess feels a faint sense of acknowledgement from three of her closest allies.
     That will have to do; the princess will not have another chance.
     Eventually, the last of the velvet-bearing imprisoners enters the room. This one’s robes are adorned, where the rest are plain; a golden triangle, upside down and crossed with a horizontal line, is embroidered on the cuff of their deep red sleeve, standing out as the most colorful and bright thing in this darkness. With a gnarled wooden staff in their hand, seemingly ancient with its many knots and grooves, they tap the floor one precise time. The endless current of people stops instantly, leaving the princess fully surrounded with no respite. When before she could at least trace the small imperfections of the walls and floor, all she can gaze at now is an unmoving ocean of dark red.
     Finally, the princess breaks down in gut-wrenching sobs. For her children, alone in the world and unprotected from its horrors. For the earth she may never see again. For the boy who looked up at her, who she inadvertently consigned to death.
     Last of all, for herself.
     Maybe, she hopes, she will be forgiven.
     The gold-decorated captor reaches a hand into the folds of their robes, emerging with a small, slightly shiny silver box. One of its faces is a hole instead of solid, and when the princess catches a glimpse of it, it seems never-ending in depth. She can feel its gravity, hungering to pull her in.
     Comprehension dawns upon the princess, and a new type of fear churns inside her. She feels small, her boldly shimmering white hair dimming to a dull gray, her eyes losing their sparkle that was once so widely spoken about. She did not know before now what her exact fate would be, but that box’s void spells out only a single answer. Its effects have already begun.
     The princess takes a deep breath, betrayed by her anguish, and closes her eyes as the box is set upon the floor in front of where she is chained to the floor, her beautiful face stained by the tears streaking down it that faintly reflect gold.
    And then, she is gone.

Chapter One
     Castor and Pollux, twins and best friends, sprint through the forest as fast as their legs can carry them. It is gorgeous and lush, its bright red and orange-tipped trees interspersed with verdant evergreens, some even shedding their leaves like a coat to its rack despite it being so early in the season. The clean air is refreshing to the mind in a way a breath in the city could never hope to manage, one of the boys’ many favorite things about this place. They weave their way around the underbrush expertly, having done so many times as they chased each other in their childhood.
     But this is not like their younger days, where the earth seemed to make way for their romping, branches parting and grass waving in an almost playful manner. Back then, it seemed as though the earth smiled back at their joyfulness.
     Today, they run for their lives.
     The twigs that the boys used to play with now scratch and claw at their skin, every bush an obstacle rather than a home to a tart berry snack, the branches serving as obstacles to duck under or jump over instead of ladders reaching to the sky. The boys are deafened by the sound of snapping brush and rustling leaves, but louder still is the pounding of their hearts in their ears and the gasping in desperate attempts to refill their tiring lungs.
     After what must have been hours of running, the twins finally burst into a clearing ringed by trees, the ground giving way to grass that softly tickles their feet. Now without a canopy blocking the view, the boys can see that the sky is much darker now, illuminated by a too-bright moon and a handful of stars valiantly fighting to match it in brightness.
     The boys, panting, hands on their knees, start gulping in air like two lost desert wanderers upon finally finding an oasis. On a normal day, this clearing would be a safe haven from their troubles; here, they could cheer, whoop, and run around to their hearts’ content.
     Though again, this is no normal day.
     All is still in the woods around them, quiet save for the continued rustling wind and heavy breathing.
     Pollux, his dark-brown curls falling across his eyes, having seemingly found a respite here and thus calming down, takes the time to fix his hair to at least a somewhat presentable state before letting out a loud, audible sigh. Castor, on the other hand, is not so quickly put at ease. He constantly glances around, back and forth, peering through the trees as if looking for some phantom spirit. Castor is not quite sure what he is looking for, though; the boy is quite confused overall, not even knowing why Pollux woke him up at the crack of dawn to tell him that they needed to run from home. Castor is still trying to catch up, his mind furiously trying to figure out what is going on—so he misses the beasts when they do come, slinking through the shadows of the larger shrubbery.