[This chapter has been re-written and submitted on 01/04/09]
Hey all, this is my first fan fiction so please don't judge it too harshly. I'm not sure if it works well but it's up to you. Please review with constructive comments. Hope you like it!
P.S. Special thanks to Forestwater, my beta reader, for all their help :)
From the epicentre of a lush green forest, where the God of Pan once lived, two figures emerged. The magnificence of the moon illuminated them, giving them a spark of hope – or a last goodbye, or perhaps both; we shall never know. The figures consisted of a dark-cloaked mistress and a young satyr with gleaming eyes; they were preparing a small bundle with protection to avoid the great peril in the near future. Who knew that such a small helpless bundle would be of such immense importance?
But to whom was it of great importance?
"Hurry, quickly, we have little time to spare," the mistress said. "We have to get this done now." Never before had she been more terrified; but then again, never before had her life been so close to ending. She wouldn't die -- not yet, anyway -- but she was seconds away from losing the most important thing in the world to her, and that was, in a way, worse.
"Just a few more minutes," the young satyr replied, fumbling with a large crystal. He placed the precious bundle inside, while his mistress directed every last ounce of her strength and wisdom into an amulet, and placed it on the bundle. He protected and shielded it with the essence of nature around him; it was not hard, not at all, for he was a bright satyr.
"I feel the last of my strength has left, and the others are approaching," she said, biting her lip and glancing around. The revolution could destroy her forever. Who knew when she may return?
If she ever returned.
She remembered her peaceful days as a simple goddess. How blissful it had been then. How she wished she could send herself back in time to relive those days . . . but she could not. She would soon be replaced and forgotten. This would be her last stand.
"There is still time! I will not let you both perish." The satyr played his pipes still faster, his large brown eyes focused on her face, following every move she made.
A wave of affection swept over her, and she put one hand on the satyr's head. "It's too late," she murmured. "Besides, it's the girl that matters -- my baby girl. Keep her safe." She brushed the fingers of her free hand over the bundle, realizing with the first pangs of regret that this would be her last moments with the people she cared about -- with her daughter.
She reminded herself that this was not the end. Her daughter would have a great life; one better than she may have had herself. Despite everything she had lost, everyone she had given up, there was this knowledge.
And that was enough. For now.
"I won't let anything happen to her. I promise." He looked down at the bundle as well, feeling fear wash over him. He couldn't do this . . . but he had to. For the goddess and her daughter.
This would be his greatest quest. And a quest without danger was worse than none at all . . . wasn't it? But, even still, he would rather that danger would keep to a bare minimum.
"Goodbye, my friend. And thank you. I could not have saved her without you. But I fear my time is up. The revolution has begun. Pray you'll never stray too far from the light and remember not to let this moment pass. The mo–"
The ground shook beneath her feet, making her stumble forward. She grabbed onto the satyr's arm with a thin scream as a crack split the earth into two, widening until it pulled her down into the Underworld. Shrieking, clawing at the rock, she was dragged away from the light, never to see it again.
The satyr stared at the hole long after the goddess had disappeared, tears sliding down his cheeks. He didn't think he'd be able to move for a long time.
He was forced immobile, he couldn't think straight…he even thought he could hear the rustling of a bush nearby…but he was probably overreacting, no-one could have found out yet could they?
The bundle on the ground wailed, a pink and chubby arm sticking out of the folds of cloth. This reminded the satyr of what he had to do, and he tucked the girl's arm back under the blanket. "May the stars watch over you, little one," he said, "for I, Krotos, will make it be that none shall harm you." The comfort was more for himself than the little girl -- she was just a child, and didn't know what was waiting for her.
The maiden was surrounded in veils of loving protection and emerged into the skies and on into further galaxies.
His duty done, the satyr picked up his reed pipes yet again, playing a song of mourning for his fallen mistress and hope for the little girl who had been sent off to somewhere unknown, somewhere safe.
Perhaps someday he'd join her, but for now, he had other matters to deal with…
Up within the skies a star shrouded a spirit, capturing it whilst the great star "Sagittarius" was forever watching over it, until no longer needed. Who knows when the maiden will emerge?
Perhaps when the mother is close to returning.
Or maybe just when the earth needs her most.
But whatever happens, the maiden will live on for another journey. Though it might not take place for thousands of years. . . .