The Justiceers
by Daphne Garrido
Part Three: The Will to Choose
Part Four: Prefinished Business
4.2
Shafts of sunlight glittered through Temaeth’s uppermost reaches to diffuse upon the seabed of this garden Gwevera Nightingale knew so well.
This was her soul’s home, and one of most gentle graces, guided by such flowings of ease. She’d not think life could get any better than this.
Yet the cycles to come would prove her wrong, each following year providing surgings of abundance to her spirit. The more she’d come to know Temeath’s supportive embrace, father Omirion’s strength, mother Sun shining so her greatest source — the smiles on her cheeks would only grow wider.
A portal inside Gwevera’s heart had been opening from the moment she was born, living in purest guidance, driven by that highest light of herself, knowing the innermost workings of her soul with such intimacy; free in completeness.
Her love was her Prince — Morecai Effeancé.
He’d been long at sea, and Gwevera’s time in these cycles was spent well, finding herself blooming in ways not before known, seeking knowledge of their world, the stars, and her heart. This Princess was becoming a woman.
She was an astronomer, inspired artist, fledgling artesian, and a passionate lover.
Time spent upon Omirion had done such great things for her soul’s growth in this universe; Gwevera was happier than anyone had right to be.
Tomorrow was the day she’d been waiting for — Prince Morecai was coming home at last.
Her father was King, a great lord of the sea, man of most righteous will and tender care. Supporting always his daughter was this man of the people, the living legend, having so positively transformed his great city; Romelas.
Charon Nintingale had been a king of kings, in his time.
The lives of his people were that of self-decision and autonomy, community based of mutual respect, never would the structures of this civilization let down an individual and lack the will to witness their failure. Each mistake would be a lesson, one they’d strive fearlessly to never repeat, holding everyone in such beautiful grace of allowance.
Each soul upon this planet would be known as they saw fit — no preconceptions of self to be emplaced on any heart, nor limitations upon the station one might occupy — minds soaked in the knowledge of Romelas’ ages, the cities Great Library home to such knowledge that all could know themselves.
Once a man had died of starvation under Charon Nitingale’s rule; once.
The lives of Dwajìn were long, most often living two-hundred cycles. To lose the precious right of life upon this world of splendor was a travesty which would not be left unaddressed.
Gwevera’s garden was between the conservatory and her private wing of the royal palace, a most special place to this future Queen of the Dwajìn. Her heart was known far and wide amongst the people, that light she brought a blessing upon their entire community, cherished by every soul.
Weekends would be spent at the schoolhouse with Romelas’ children; some of her most joyous times, feeling so grateful to be so near their brightest suns.
Any other time, Gwevera was here, at least on the days she wasn’t ‘working’ in her observatory — ever using that time to write her Morecai, ignoring her named occupation outright, delaying the destiny she’d known hers to understand the stars in pursuit of heart’s longing to be held by within his own — finding peace in each moment of the journey.
Omirion made everything perfect, even her wanting was only of beauty, there was no pain in her spirit; body so clean from a life well lived.
Mother was calling in her heart.
The Dwajìn had no need for technology to communicate — they were connected, each and every one, and they’d speak this way — it created great space for breath and even more for fellowship.
Gwevera adored her mother so, The Queen; Rometra Nitingale. She was the softest touch her daughter would ever know, the greatest example of loving courageousness, and a boon to all her children’s freedom.
An honor bestowed not only by blood — Rometra saw every citizen of Romelas her own.
In equal rule beside Charon Nitingale, being seen always as such, their empowered souls had bound these people to synchronicity with their planet, this ocean, and each other.
A golden age was here, and it would one day be Gwevera’s to carry on beside her Morecai, they would extended this reign of glorious and loving oneness for many cycles to come.
Romelas would be Gwevera’s to lead one day, and she couldn’t wait.