Pandora's Box, part 9

Epimetheus rocked with the pain and power, his head pounding. “No!” he cried. “I won’t do it.”

“Won’t do what, Epimetheus?” Aurora sat up, brushing loose leaves from her long skirt.

Epimetheus shook his head, battling the urge to tell her the truth. If she knew that he had been charged with killing her, and had taken her deep into the woods to do so, her trust in him would drain out of those beautiful eyes, forever damaging her sweet innocence.

“I won’t ever fail you, Aurora,” he promised, his voice catching on her name as he finally understood the vastness of his sincerity and love.

Aurora smiled at him, her face as bright as the morning sun, and his stomach lurched with fear. How could he keep her protected from the wrath of his wife? How did you go about keeping the light glowing in times of darkness and dread?

“We must hurry,” Epimetheus urged, kicking the fire’s ashes outwards in the hope of covering their tracks. “We must get you to safety.”

“I feel safe already,” Aurora said. “Safer than I have felt for years. Oh, Epimetheus. I can’t wait for you to meet my mother. I know she will like you. I hope you will grow to be fond of her, too.”

Epimetheus took Aurora’s small hand in his, gazing down at her palm. “If she is anything like you, I am bound to love her,” he said.

***

Pandora paced the room, restless as a hungry leopard. Epimetheus should have returned by now, she mused. I must have that child’s heart!

She gazed into the mirror, chanting again the words that now crowded her mind. The box echoed the words from behind her.

“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

The mirror creaked and flashed, revealing an image of Aurora, flushed and laughing, horribly young and beautiful.

“Ah Queen, whose beauty is sadly fading,

It hasn’t taken much persuading

We see young Aurora in full bloom

Compared to you in your stagnant room

The fairest of all is Aurora, it’s true

Your time of majestic beauty is through.”

A cackle reverberated through the room, as Pandora shook the mirror with such ferocity that the mirror cracked and splintered into a web of broken glass, each shard mocking Pandora with Aurora’s youthful, beauteous image.

“It’s not true!” she screamed. “She is dead. Epimetheus promised me he would kill her!”

“Not so, old queen, with the broken heart,

Your husband is enraptured with the young upstart.

Hidden deep in the woods out of view,

He seeks to harbour Aurora, it’s true.”

Behind Pandora, the box rattled and wailed. “OPEN ME, AND YOUR BEAUTY WILL BE RESTORED!”

“Betrayal!” Pandora leapt to her feet; her eyes blackened with hatred.

“I will destroy them both!” she vowed. “I will tear out their eyes, their livers and their hearts. I swear I will kill them both.”

***

Aurora shivered as an ink-black cloud swept over the woodland clearing.

“What is it?” Epimetheus asked, acutely aware of her every gesture.

“I don’t know… I felt something terrible, something dark pass by.” Aurora’s eyes searched the surrounding trees and bushes. “Epimetheus…” she whispered. “I think something or someone is watching us.”

Instantly, Epimetheus leapt to her side, pulling her behind him with one hand whilst waving his dagger with the other.

Leaves rustled in the breeze, and on the breath of wind, they each heard the whispered sounds, “Kill her now!”

Somewhere, a branch snapped, louder than a drum.

“Show yourself, Devil!” shouted Epimetheus, lunging forward.

Aurora clutched hold of his cloak, peered through the gloom beyond.

There was a scurry, a flutter of leaves. Then, there was silence. Sunlight once again crept across the canopy of leaves above.

“It’s gone, whatever that was,” Epimetheus assured Aurora, sheathing the dagger. He looked round at her, pinning a reassuring smile on his face but this was met by a stillness as Aurora stared back at him, frowning slightly.

“Why do you have a dagger, Epimetheus?” Aurora asked.

His heart lurched and his mouth dried. He thought of the million things he could say; the lies he could so easily concoct but he could not utter a single word.

“When did you plan to kill me?” Aurora said. She stood tall, her hair uncovered and lit like a halo. Her face was serious and years older than moments ago, heavy with wisdom and disappointment.

Epimetheus fell to his knees and wept, telling her in broken, heart-rent phrases of the plan, ordered by Pandora.

Aurora looked down at his blonde hair and sighed softly, acknowledging the folly of her girlish dreams up to this moment. Well, no more. She was grown to womanhood now, and it was up to her to choose the path she would take.

“Epimetheus,” she said, laying a land on his head, almost as if soothing an over-excited hound. “Enough of this noise now. We must move on.”

“We?” Epimetheus clung to the word as a drowning man clings to an offered rope. “You’ll allow me to accompany you, even though…”

Aurora’s lips softened into a slight smile. “I will. After all, you’ve had a whole day and night to kill me, and you haven’t done so yet. Come on, get up. It doesn’t suit you to be so submissive. Kneeling to a maid? What would people say?”

Epimetheus stood, and reached blindly for her small hands. “I don’t care what they would say. Aurora, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t do it…you must know that I…”

Aurora cut across his words with haste, pulling away from his grip. “Come on. We can’t be far from my mother’s hut now. I can feel her. If we hurry, we will be there by dusk.” She headed across the glade, murmuring to herself, “I’ll be safe there.”

Epimetheus heard the words and bowed his head in shame.