Gwydion stared up at the majestic castle dusted with gold and silver, sighing, too immersed in his own mind to take a step in through the towering gates.
He was supposed to pay a visit the day he entered Boldizsár and inform the deities about what was going on back in Aderbaal, but the Council turned him down and told him to return a week later.
Not because they had anything better to do. No, that wasn’t why he was brushed away like a speck of dust and dismissed.
The Council members were too busy wasting their lives away in the Land of the Dead, Forsburth, that was why. As they always did and had done for untold moons.
But he couldn’t delay it any longer. Something bad happened to their allies in Isaldor. Whenever he shut his eyes, the flickering light haunted him and urged him to hurry.
There was no time to waste! Whether the Council wanted it or not, they were going to listen to him!
He sent a message to Lady Urius with the help of his loyal companion, a pigeon from the ruins of Gam’atron that he saved from the fiery pits of hell during the Alfen Wars.
The matter couldn’t wait. So he told her to assemble her kinsmen and meet him in the keep.
Something was in the offing and the human race in great peril.
Although she didn’t send a word back, he knew she’d listen to him and tell the other deities to return from Forsburth without further delay.
She was the only female deity part of the Council and differed from her male counterparts in more than one way. Even though she enjoyed the companionship of others just as much as the members, she never dwelled in Forsburth to enjoy herself.
The grand castle was located on top of a hill in the heart of Boldizsár, the capital of Salwodor. The inside of it was as golden as the outside, albeit it was smaller than Lárhus.
No one visited the castle unless there was an emergency that needed to be taken care of – not even the Council members themselves.
During emergencies and other dire times, the keep would beam in macabre colours and alert anyone who saw its flickering lights.
Yet the keep did not beam and call the Council of Deities back from Forsburth this time as if the hunting by the ogres were not an emergency as long as Sawoldor was at peace and unharmed.
Hypocrites, he thought, hypocrites filled with greed! But he wasn’t surprised by these thoughts. He knew everything that he needed to know about the deities, whom he served for thousands of years.
They could fool a great many with their innocent and righteous masks, but he knew the wickedness and blackness of their hearts like the back of his hand.
The Council wasn’t loyal to their allies. They never intended to defend or fight for them.
Surely, it was led by a bunch of cowards brimmed with greed and so infuriated with their own desires that their hearts were blinded and blacker than the ogres’ they despised and condemned as wild beasts. At least, it was in the ogres’ nature to be such vile things.
Gwydion knocked on the gates and waited for a second or two before it opened from the inside with a loud, almost shrieking noise.
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A gnome pushed the gigantic gates open with the help of a tow rope, heaving after air as the gates slowly exposed the inside.
He nodded to the gnome in a greeting, then ambled in and up the winding staircase across the gates with light steps. He knew every inch of the goodly structure, perhaps more so than the Council members themselves.
His footsteps echoed in the silence with every step he took towards the top of the staircase, which led to the keep in the far-left corner.
It looked like he was the only one here, after all. He stopped halfway up and looked down to ask the gnome where Lady Urius was, when he noticed that the tiny creature was no longer there.
“What brings you here, druid?”
Lady Urius stared down at him from the top of the stairs. Her grey hair was tied up in a thick knot. Her skin was smooth and devoid of wrinkles, yet she was older than the druid himself by hundreds of years.
Her emerald dress wrapped tightly around her body and exposed her feminine curves. Besides her grey hair, there was no way to tell that she was as old as the hills.
Her youthful smile and breathtaking beauty could make any man weak in his knees.
Gwydion bowed and paid his respects to the founder and the oldest member of the Council. She did not return his greeting.
Her plump lips were pressed together in a straight line, her face devoid of emotions. Even her blue eyes were stern and cold as ice, numbing almost.
She advanced without waiting for him to catch up to her. He followed her into the keep where the deities discussed the state of affairs.
It was a rather empty place with only one oval table in the middle. Now that the rest of the Council members were absent, it looked lonely and abandoned.
The deity stopped in front of a large lancet on the other end of the keep and folded her arms on her slender back.
Strings of light shone through the window and soon illuminated the map over Fayr across the walls. Not even a single gap was left blank.
Gwydion lowered his head with a smirk. So much obsession over the land they did not deserve or even own! Not in the beginning, at least…
Fayr belonged to another, to its rightful king and ruler. But the deities stole it from him with their dirty tricks and manipulation.
Even he, the great druid, was deceived by their wicked schemes and became part of the foreboding history of the past and forgotten.
Yet it wasn’t greed that led him down this path of destruction, it was something much stronger. Something that caused him to betray his one and only friend.
Lady Urius glanced over her shoulder. “Should I repeat myself?”
“You never gave me the chance to reply,” he said. “Besides, you already know why I’m here. The rumours, they’re true.”
“And what does that prove, exactly? The trolls and the dead kill humans, too. You know that very well.”
Gwydion shook his head. “I saw their footprints. There’s no doubt. It’s the ogres, Urius. We need to move fast. If we don’t do anything to stop them, the ogres—”
“Your job is done. Go home and rest.”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Rest? When their allies were being hunted by wild beasts?
“Isaldor is in danger! Tell me, aren’t the humans our allies?”
“They are. But so is Sál – a much more powerful ally, at that! We can’t jump to conclusions on our own and do something we’ll regret. I’ll discuss what to do with the others when they return.”
Gwydion smirked, his eyes fixated on the vase in the middle of the oval table. The sole flower, a crimson rose, was dried up and wilted just like the hearts of the Council members.
Seeing red, he slammed his fists on the table. The vase broke into pieces and the dried petals scattered all over the floor.
Lady Urius turned around at last. Her blue eyes threw daggers at him. Yet Gwydion spoke without filter, without a care for the stern look on her face.
There were many things he could put up with and turn a blind eye to, but this was the last drop that poured over the glass.
“Do you even know what the deities are doing in Forsburth!? By the time they return—”
“Enough! You do not raise your voice here! Get out! Your job… is done! Don’t let me repeat myself, Gwydion.”
He stormed out.
A gnome almost stumbled down the stairs as he brushed past it, fuming beside himself.
The conjured gates flung open as he made his grand exit. Behind him, the gnomes gathered to see what caused such commotion and terror, and their mouths fell open as they watched the druid leave without even once glancing over his shoulder.
As soon as he stepped out, Gwydion knew where to go. There was only one person in Boldizsár who could persuade Lady Urius to take action.
Aria! He needed to speak to Aria. Only she, if anyone, could talk Lady Urius into anything.
After all, blood was thicker than water.