Legends of Lemuria

A sample of Legends of Lemuria

Legends of Lemuria: The Bridge

Allie Michelle

Thought Catalog Books

thoughtcatalog.com

Copyright © 2024 Allie Michelle. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior written consent and permission from Thought Catalog.

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Produced by Chris Lavergne and Noelle Beams
Art direction and design by KJ Parish
Circulation management by Isidoros Karamitopoulos

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First Edition, Limited Edition Pressing
Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-949759-82-2

For you, Dad.

Thank you for telling me fairytales every night and helping me believe I could one day create my own.

Map of Lemuria

The island is surrounded by water. On the left is a cave entrance through Mt. Shasta. The Great River flows from this entrance across the island and around the City of Mu toward the Black Salt Sea at the upper right. The Ordos Desert lies above the Redrock Mountains on the left. Vasalisa’s Forest is above the City of Mu. The Royal Castle, Artist’s Square, Ghost Market, Ace’s Quarter, and Stone Quarter occupy the right side; Siren Court is on the right coast. Black Lake lies below the central mountains. Morganna’s Forest and Faerie Court are in the lower part of the island.

Table of Contents

1. Part I: The Bridge — 7
2. Prologue — 9
3. Chapter 1 — 11
4. Chapter 2 — 31
5. Chapter 3 — 43
6. Chapter 4 — 61
7. Chapter 5 — 75
8. Chapter 6 — 85
9. Chapter 7 — 103
10. Chapter 8 — 117
11. Chapter 9 — 131
12. Part II: Lemuria — 143
13. Chapter 10 — 145
14. Chapter 11 — 157
15. Chapter 12 — 175
16. Chapter 13 — 187
17. Chapter 14 — 203
18. Chapter 15 — 221
19. Chapter 16 — 239
20. Chapter 17 — 255
21. Part III: Queen of Hearts — 271
22. Chapter 18 — 273
23. Chapter 19 — 289
24. Chapter 20 — 307
25. Chapter 21 — 317
26. Chapter 22 — 335
27. Chapter 23 — 347
28. Chapter 24 — 369
29. Chapter 25 — 391
30. Chapter 26 — 405
31. Chapter 27 — 409
32. Chapter 28 — 425
33. Chapter 29 — 431
34. Chapter 30 — 441
35. Chapter 31 — 443
36. Chapter 32 — 453
37. Glossary — 457

Part I: The Bridge

Make me neither a hero nor a villain! Both live within all of us. Make me neither a leader nor a follower! Both are dependent upon each other. Make me neither a winner nor a loser! Both are blind to what is in front of them. Make me an honest sinner before you make me into a lying saint. Make me unafraid of treachery because I have faced the treachery within. Make me one willing to surrender my sword for love. Make me brave enough to face my own undoing with a wicked grin of honor. Make me honored to be crushed beneath the gods’ dancing feet. Make me into whatever you need! Just don’t strip away my humanity by making a hero out of me. Your life’s journey is just that—a journey. And if you are to complete it, then you’ll know the end was never the point!

—The Book of Lemuria: Proverb I

Prologue

Long ago, in a land long since forgotten, an elder sat beneath the open skies. It was a night like many others—an ocean of stars swallowed the jagged mountain ridges, the great river flowed lethargically, and the trees swayed with the stubborn breeze.

The elder had spent thousands of years slumbering while her spirit traveled the cosmos. A seer, they called her. The past, present, and future all blurred together. Any moment that had happened or could happen appeared at will in the endless dark. At first, it was maddening. Yet, after nine thousand years of existence, her state of content passivity had gone undisturbed.

Until the vision.

Her withered hands shook as she felt the vision flood her body, rattling her to the bone. Out on the earth’s surface, in a realm she had only heard whispers about, a little girl took her first breath in the world. All she saw was a pair of blue eyes, and the river of magic that ran in her veins—a power the likes of which she hadn’t felt in nine thousand years.

The vision dissolved, and the elder raced to gather the bones and flowers she needed. A human child with magic. The prophecy had been clear, but after all this time, even the elder had believed it to be nothing but the senile ramblings of an ancient oracle.

The elder gasped, clutching her chest as she keeled over. She felt the blades of dewy grass beneath her fingertips and the soft breeze that swirled around her. It had been so long since she was awake, she had to remind herself how to take slow, shuddering breaths.

Finally, she rose to her feet. The elder knew every bump and hollow in the land she had been confined to for so long. Within minutes, she gathered the ingredients needed, feeling her way through the garden. She placed the bones in the shape of a pyramid, gathering helius and corellia flowers. They were rare to find and dangerous to grow, but it was worth the risk. Rubbing the petals between her withered fingertips, she crushed them into dust.

“Deus sermiya,” the elder whispered in the ancient tongue, blowing the flowers from her palm and listening to the dust rain down on the bones.

Her breath shortened as the dust settled. A faint glow began to appear. The glittering powder rose from the point of the pyramid, swirling in two spirals up toward the sky. The earth quaked and rumbled beneath her. Cold sweat licked down her spine as the dust ripped open the veil between this world and the next.

The elder felt like her skull was splitting open as the full might of her magic was unleashed. She had sworn not to use it—that which she had been entrusted with long ago, but she needed to see the timelines. If this child could be the one they had whispered of for eons.

She peered into the future, and all possible outcomes, seeing flashes of the woman the girl could one day become.

The gathered bones turned to nothing but ash, swept away by the winter winds. The elder listened to the whistling breeze carry the dust up toward the stars and wondered if it may reach all the way to that little girl a world away.

A tear finally wriggled free, sliding down her cheek as she prayed for that baby, as she prayed for them all. And for the first time in a long, long time, the elder felt a fragile feeling bloom in her chest.

Hope.

Chapter 1

I’m awake in a world of sleepwalkers pretending that I’m still stumbling through a dream. What is more painful? To believe the beautiful lie and never live honestly? Or to wake up each day with a bent spine in an attempt to bear the weight of such an ugly world? Throughout all of the madness, I’ll never forget those eyes. Green with flecks of gold like they swallowed sunshine. Those eyes that were both a comfort and a challenge for my still-beating heart. —Zia

Zia Alexander was once again flirting with death, and while it threatened to claim her many times in her life, she was not afraid of taking that final journey. She knew death was just a bridge between this world and the next, but she wasn’t ready to walk it. Not yet. Every moment she had ever held back flashed before her eyes. But regret would not sink its claws into her. Not today. She had risked too much. Fought too hard. They all had.

And so, she ran. Not from death, but toward life, and all the possibilities that came with it. Her heart was pounding like a bone drum. Its unsteady rhythm roared in her ears despite the months of grueling training. Her legs barked in pain as she silently commanded her body to move faster, faster, faster.

Nothing had gone according to plan. Zia had been meticulous with every detail and tried to foresee every possible outcome, yet love had blinded her in more ways than she cared to admit. As always, the gods enjoyed making a mockery of her plans by flipping her world upside down until she was dangling by her toes. Sometimes, she wondered if this was all just for their entertainment. After all, what felt like life and death to her was really a way for them to pass the time of their boring, immortal lives.

The forest blurred green around her. She moved swiftly between every tree and rock. The mossy earth felt like a spongy springboard beneath her callused feet. Mud squished between her toes. The wind blew harshly in her direction, offering her its speed.

They were close.

Zia gulped down air and savored the sweet smell of the forest. A thick blanket of mist clung to its edge, offering her a semblance of cover from her pursuers. She strained her ears and heard the snapping of twigs. Six of them, by her count. She felt a little insulted that was all they thought it would take to capture her. They could have at least sent their finest warriors. Yet, even without her sensitive hearing, their footsteps were quiet as an elephant’s.

Cold sweat trickled down her brow and burned her eyes. She blinked harshly as her vision blurred. Zia skidded to a halt just in time to see the roar of rushing water at the lip of the mountain. Whitewash tumbled into an abyss, landing amongst sharp black rocks. She hissed. Fear threatened to claim her as she wasted three seconds contemplating the drop. Hesitation will get you killed faster than anything else. That had been the first thing she was taught. Such good it did her now.

She heard laughter in the distance—the kind of horrific, triumphant laughter that turned her blood to ice. They almost had her now. There was no way out. She would be hunted until her final breath. Had it merely been the six sentries, she would have fought for her freedom and won, but there were more coming, and she had used all the tricks up her sleeve. It wasn’t worth the gamble of losing what she had sworn her life to protect. Death was a far more appealing option than being captured, and she had her orders: protect the stone at all costs.

Zia clutched the raw stone in her palm until it dug into her skin. The emerald seemed to mock her as it shimmered in the fading light. She placed it in her pouch and sent a silent prayer that it wouldn’t be lost to the river’s unforgiving rapids. Her stomach churned when she realized what waters she stood above.

The Vasalisa River. They whispered stories of it in the castle. Named after a goddess from long ago. The love of Vasalisa’s life was killed, and she went mad with grief as she wept for seven hundred years. Her tears flooded the dry land and became the vengeful waters that dragged any soul who dared submerge to the underworld, as payment for the lover that had once been claimed.

Zia laughed as she prepared to make the jump. At least her end wouldn’t be a boring one.

“Zia!” a familiar voice shouted.

She froze on her first step. She would never forget that voice. Not in this lifetime or the next. Her heart twisted in pain. Zia dared a glance over her shoulder, looking at his face one last time. Bright green eyes with golden specks pierced through her. That strong, stubborn jaw tightened. He took a step toward her.

"Zia," he pleaded again.

Her name sounded like a prayer on his lips, and she cursed the gods that he had somehow found her. There was so much she ached to tell him, but none of it mattered now. He was the one person that could have delayed her, but it was too late. They were out of time.

“I’ll see you again…” she whispered softly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

His face twisted in pain. Zia sprinted toward the edge without hesitation. Her final step came too quickly as she flung herself off the cliff. She vaguely heard him shouting in the distance, but she knew he wouldn’t risk following her over the edge. Not into those waters. Not with so much banking on his survival.

Time seemed to halt as she was suspended in the air. Zia’s breath caught as she gazed below. The drop was farther than she thought. Much farther. Maybe today would be the day. The jagged rocks looked like the mouth of Death grinning at her. She grinned back in challenge.

Any sense of control dissolved as gravity took over, bringing her closer to the ground. She always despised heights, so it felt like a cruel joke for her life to end in this way. Anything above ten feet and her limbs normally turned wobbly. This drop had to be one hundred feet.

The few seconds of the fall seemed to stretch on for an eternity. She crossed her arms over her chest and kept her body straight as she finally

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