It was on the day of the Twin Moon Festival that Alana’s life changed forever.

She remembered that day well, sat on the high Elderton Wall that spanned the perimeter of the old city, gazing at the moonlit sky, the two suns meeting their vast orb-like counterparts.

A grey elegant cat sat beside her, its emerald eyes fixed on the two huge moons in the sky. Alana stroked its head and smiled. It was the stray, the one that always kept her company every time she climbed the high wall. She admired its sleek dark fur. The cat always appeared very well looked after for a stray cat yet it bore no collar.

‘Hello there,’ she whispered to her companion. ‘Happy Twin Moon and may the Gods treat you and your family with all the good fortune and luck for many generations to come.’ She patted the cat’s head as if to finalise her blessings and wishes. The cat purred and leaned into her hand.

The streets were alive with the hum of music; its steady beating drummed at the heart of the celebrations and reverberated through her very skin. The bright silver and white flags waved to the delighted shouts of families. Children played and feasted on the hot roasted street food from which the steam was rising and curling in the air. The sweet wafts of Celestial Cakes baking from every vendor was enough to make even the most iron-heart of the King’s soldiers long for the arms and kitchen of their mothers.

It made her think of her own mother when she was little, looking up from her small height to watch her mother baking, her long lavender coloured hair pulled back in a loose tie while she worked. She would occasionally turn and smile at Alana, humming the melodious Tales of the Old Sea while she kneaded the dough.

‘Would you like to have a go, little one?’ She would say and her eyes would crinkle warmly. Little Alana would nod her little head so vigorously her mother must have thought it was going to fall off for she would laugh and lift her onto a chair so that she may reach the counter. She would pull at a spare hair tie from her wrist and would smooth back the strands of Alana’s own lavender coloured hair.

‘There,’ she would say, ‘you’re all ready now.’

It was a memory she was fond of and Alana felt pride when she thought of her mother who had cared for the both of them all this time. Her mother had gone from baking to coordinating the parade of the most important festival in her planet’s vast history.

Alana took a deep breath, soaking in the joyous occasion and smiled. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. The Twin Moon Festival only happened once every 100 years when the two moons completed their cycle and she certainly wasn’t going to miss any of it now. Sighing, she reached behind her to pull her long thick braid around and fidgeted with the strands absently, eager for the parade to start soon and to see the Uzolomas released into the sky with their huge silvery glistening wings reflecting the gates of Heaven.

A flash of red amidst the rejoicing caught Alana’s attention and she squinted hard. Her brow furrowed when her eyes confirmed it was her mother. She shook her head slightly, confused. What was mother doing there and not at the parade?

Alana studied the small figure in red winding through the crowds, down narrow streets and out to the market square. She watched closely as her mother stopped at the entrance to the Royal Temple, watched her cast furtive glances over her shoulder before entering.

‘Why is she going there,’ Alana muttered to herself. She felt uneasy and wasn’t sure what to do, whether to wait until the parade was over to see her mother or to follow her. Her mother had no business being at the Royal Temple, she wasn’t a priestess or in service to the crown. Earlier, when she had left their residence, her mother had pulled her into a tight embrace and said they would see each other after the parade.

An unease settled upon her shoulders. She bit her lip and studied the twin moons in the sky, the glow of their union blooming into a myriad of soft speckled colours that glinted no matter which way the eye turned. She felt torn and hoped the moons would help her decide what to do next. She wrestled with herself in an internal tug of war.

Snapping to, she opened her mouth to declare to her feline companion her intentions to find her mother when she noticed the small thin side doors of the Royal Temple open. These doors were bathed in shadow and were hardly noticeable, blending into the wall seamlessly.

An elderly priest in blue robes stepped through the door followed by two burly thickset men bearing the royal armour. Between them, was her mother. She wasn’t conscious, her body flopped. A dead weight.

Alana’s mouth dropped as she felt shock spread like thin webs of ice through her body. Every muscle, every nerve screamed at her that this wasn’t right, that her mother was in danger, that what she saw was wrong. Yet she froze, helpless as they loaded her mother’s body onto a cart and covered her with a large thin blanket.

Her breath started to wheeze in shallow bursts and her vision started to swim. A hundred thoughts ran through her mind at once. Is mother alive? Where are they taking her? Is she dead? All at a million miles per second.

Her chest heaved rapidly and she felt panic seize her every being. Tears threatened to burst forth as she witnessed the cart pull away. Every instinct told her to chase it, to get her mother off the cart but she knew that by the time she would have gotten though to the market square it would be too late and the cart would have long disappeared. So she watched, not daring to take her eyes off it, hating every second it drove further away from her. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the ancient brick wall beneath her.

More questions ran through Alana’s mind yet there appeared to her to be no possible explanation for what was occurring right before her very eyes. She dared not blink for the cart had come to its final destination at the golden gates to the Royal Palace.

What..? She thought, bewildered at what the Royal Palace could possibly have to do with what she had just witnessed with her mother at the Royal Temple.

The golden gates opened and the cart disappeared through.

‘No,’ she said aloud. She had lost her mother. ‘No,’ she repeated shaking her head.

With her earlier panic attack having subsided, her lips were now pursed and fists clenched. A rage started to build inside her, an injustice and she held onto it tightly for to let go would mean an acceptance of grief she was not willing to face. Her mother was all she had. Alana clenched her fists and gulped away a dry throat. Her hand tremored slightly as she swept her hair away from her eyes.

She knew what she had to do.

She was going to go down there and, come fire and flame, she was going to get her mother back.

.