“Sarathiel, although the youngest out of the other Thrones, is physically the strongest and sturdiest amongst the Seraph. With a body that towers over even Annalay, he specializes in wanton destruction, charging through the battlefield with reckless abandon. His size and brute strength combine to create an unstoppable force, and any who dare block his path is crushed deep into the earth, the corpse mangled into a battered clump of flesh and steel. Injuries only fuel his rage, transforming him into a crazed berserker that attacks wildly with no regard for ally and foe like. A pair of scarlet wings etch out from his helm, and wild, crimson, animalistic eyes lay hidden deep within, brought out by his overwhelming bloodlust.
An excerpt from Thrones: An In-Depth Look at our Nation’s Guardians
———
The Knight
The Knight and Sarathiel walk down the bustling streets of The Castrum. All manner of people roam the streets, some stopping by local shops, while others hurry to their destinations. The road is bustling with life, and giant buildings made of concrete and stone align the sides. The people are well-dressed, with businessmen wearing dark-colored suits made of woven wool, a fedora or top hat covers the heads of most, and the women wear fashionable leather coats and pantsuits. The atmosphere is filled with friendly chatter as guards patrol the streets, resolving petty conflicts and ensuring the populace’s safety.
“The city is so bright,” The Knight remarks as the people walk by.
“Indeed it is.” Sarathiel grins. “Even though I can’t stand those damnable nobles sometimes, I can’t deny the amount of effort they put in to make the citizens happy.”
He sighs, gaze affixed at a group of children playing nearby.
“All I can do is smash where they tell me to smash, and kill who they want me to kill.”
He waves at the children, but they run away from him, startled by his giant size. The parents shoot an apologetic look towards him and chase after the fleeing kids.
“I’ve always admired you, you know. Your sword dance exudes grace and style on the battlefield, and your strength eclipses the other Seraph. The people love you, worship you as the symbol of the nation, and your very presence brings warmth and comfort to the downtrodden. To me.”
“Was…I really that special among their hearts?” The Knight asks, hiding a small piece of guilt within its heart. Although it has taken the form of many in the past, none have been worshiped quite so fervently as the woman’s face it now bears. It can feel true love within those around it. A love that can never be returned.
“Dearly, Lorelai. So, so much.”
Sarathiel pauses for a moment at a little grocery store on the side and beckons The Knight over.
“This little shop here? It burned down a couple of years ago. A rogue magi went insane and attacked everything around them, and although nobody was hurt, this place got caught in the crossfire and was destroyed. You helped them rebuild everything, stone by stone, all by yourself.
“I remember that day very clearly. I was trying to stop you, told you to just let the other knights handle it, but you snapped back at me.
“‘It’s our duty to help in whichever way we can, no matter our status or position. We are a community, a nation, and for the people to prosper, we must all lend a hand together. United as one.’ Those words really stuck with me even all these years later.
“I was pretty naive back then, ambitious too, but you brought my arrogant ass back down onto the earth and showed me what a true warrior looks like.”
Sarathiel opens the door and narrowly squeezes into the little shop. The Knight follows closely from behind, taking in the sights and smells of the produce within. An elderly man at the counter jumps at the sight of the titan before letting out a bemused laugh.
“Sir Sarathiel, it has been too long!” he greets enthusiastically. “Still big as ever, eh?”
“Haha, I’ve been a bit busy gramps. Looks like you still haven’t fixed that annoying entrance yet, though.”
“Bah, you’ve just grown too much. I remember when you were only half that size. Why’d you have to be such a big lug?”
“Gotta have a large body for my large muscles.”
“More like large ego. What brings you here today? Don’t think you came here just to see this old man.”
“Ah, I’ve been showing someone around and figured that this’ll be a good place to jog some memories.”
The Knight steps out of Sarathiel’s shadow and into the light. The elderly man slowly covers his lips as tears begin to form in his eyes. He trips on his own feet as he leaves the counter to get a better look at the once-thought dead Throne before him.
“Lorelai?” He gasps, eyes wide. “You’re here. Y-You’re here. Oh my…I-I don’t know what to say. We’ve all been so worried about you ever since we heard about your disappearance. How are you my dear?”
“I’m…alright,” The Knight replies uncertainly. “I apologize. I lost my memories so I’m still a bit…confused. About who I was. About the people that care about me. Everything is a blank.”
”O-oh dear, that is terrible indeed.”
The elderly man gently grabs The Knight’s hand with a warm smile.
“But I’m glad that you’re safe. Everyone will be glad that you’re safe. I’ve never forgotten what you did for my store or for my family, and I bet that everybody around here owes a debt to you as well.”
“Your family?”
“Yes. My grandson, he…he died a year ago while out on the front lines. He was an amazing boy, dreaming of serving alongside you in order to protect our nation. He was so excited when he graduated from the knight academy, so passionate. But he died due to a surprise ambush from The Nox.
“They took our boy’s body and the body of everyone else that perished in the attack. We were heartbroken, not even able to send him off formally into The Stars above, but you brought him back to us. You charged into their encampment alone in order to bring the bodies home, and it’s because of you that we were able to embrace him one last time before he returned to the sky. We grieved, but we healed, and I like to think his face looked peaceful in the end, surrounded by his family.”
“I see. I was…quite the incredible person.”
“Not was. You still are my dear, and no amount of memory loss will ever diminish that raging spirit within you. As long as the person remains, the future will welcome you with open arms.”
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“Heh, couldn’t have said it better myself, gramps,” Sarathiel chuckles. “We gotta head out, but I appreciate seeing you again. Make sure to have some of that sweet cotton candy by the time I come back!”
“Hoho, don’t you worry. I’ll save some for you and get some of that cherry candy that Lorelai likes. I have to spread the good word first, though! I can’t believe you palace people would leave us folk in the dark like that.”
“Hey gramps, I literally just learned about it a few hours ago! The castle’ll probably make an official statement soon, but we’re just exploring the capital in the meantime.”
“Hah! I’m just pulling ya leg. Go on, shoo. Get out of here. I’m sure there’s a buncha other people that you need to visit.”
“I got it, I got it. See you later gramps,” Sarathiel says playfully. “Come on Lorelai, we gotta see The Principalities before it gets dark.”
“Thank you so much for telling me your story,” The Knight bows.
“Anything for you, dear. May the skies above grant you good fortune.”
The pair leave the store and walk out into the bustling street once more. The sky has slightly darkened since the two entered, and soon, sunset will come.
“Ah, damn,” Sarathiel exasperates as he scratches his helm. “I wanted to show you around the entertainment district for a little bit before we made our way down, but looks like we gotta save that for another time. Well, it’s better at night anyway so you probably won’t miss much.”
“An entertainment district? That does sound quite enticing.”
“Heh, you bet! You and Annalay would head down to the taverns back before you got sent to the front lines. I wasn’t old enough to drink yet though so I never got to join the two of you, but maybe we can organize a little welcome-back party afterwards with the three of us.”
“Um, Annalay is confined to the castle at the moment. I think Ascalon talked about it a bit while we were in the throne room.”
“Oh yeah, something about a little fight? Pretty dumb if you ask me, but Ascalon’s suffered a lot so I’ll leave him alone this once. I’m more mad at her for getting the chance to spar with you before I got to. That damned alcoholic always did love a good fight. Can’t say I’m not any different, though.”
The two arrive at the gate leading to The Principalities, a massive training ground and school located northeast from the castle situated in The Dominion district where the other knight orders are established.
“Well, here we are. Welcome to The Principalities! The captain is out at the moment so we’ll be able to have our little fight without any nagging. Man, this place holds a lot of memories.”
“Were you also a part of The Principalities before you became a throne?”
“Nah, I was the captain of The Powers. I used to come here a lot to watch you train with Annalay. The two of you would always use this place to practice your techniques, and it became a sort of spectacle for the other divisions to come and watch the two of you. Your fighting style was…truly something to behold. I wanted to reach out to you, to achieve that same grace and elegance so much, but my real strength lay elsewhere. A brute can never truly garner wonder like you can.”
Sarathiel turns toward The Knight, a sad expression lies hidden beneath his helm.
“You inspired me to become a knight. Your dedication towards the people and your steadfast visage lit a burning flame within my chest, and I aspired to become just like you, a true champion of the people. Although I may be clumsy and naive, I worked hard so that I would be worthy of fighting by your side, together as comrades. As equals.”
They pass the gates and emerge out onto a large courtyard. Students and knights litter the field, but immediately separate upon seeing the two Thrones, their mouths agape in awe at the sight of the warriors. Sarathiel strolls over to the center of the field and unsheathes his weapon, a gigantic great-axe with a crimson pole and blood-red wings that act as the blades. He freezes for a moment and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in and feeling the air around him. When he breaks the silence, a newfound resolve empowers his voice, each word imbued with determination.
“I never was able to win a match against you. I pestered you non-stop to spar with me when I became a Throne. Every time we met, we fought, and I would always end up buried in the ground. And yet, I was never upset, because to me you were invincible. A shining ray of hope that would never lose their spark no matter the challenge.”
He lifts his weapon up high and shifts into a battle stance. His muscles tighten and an ash-grey aura surrounds itself on his armor, creating a dense bulwark of protection.
“I’ll make you regain your light, Lorelai. No matter the cost.”
———
Sarathiel
Sarathiel condenses his aura into the great-axe and slashes the air, unleashing a silver mass of energy that shoots straight towards Lorelai. She takes out her twin blades and parries the aura, causing it to tear into the ground. The glowing lights that symbolized the treasures now lay muted, an echo of its former self. The swords abandoned her in her state of weakness, and that is something Sarathiel cannot forgive.
He lunges at Lorelai, swinging wildly with rampaging fury and rends the earth around him. He foregoes all matters of defense and focuses only on attacking with all his might, his rage directed towards the swords.
Each slash of his axe cleaves even the very air around him, and the knights watching from the background are forced to take cover as the pressure proves too much to bear. Sarathiel’s mind becomes overwhelmed with rage as he continues his assault. His intention of having a casual spar is long gone, replaced by the maddening bloodlust within him.
“Just how,” he thinks to himself. “Just how could they deem her unworthy? Despite being trapped within The Miasma, she clung desperately onto life. Despite her mind being ripped and torn apart, she continued to march through the forests, refusing to give into insanity. Despite all that, the swords marked her as unfit to wield them?”
A guttural cry erupts from his core, sending out a loud shockwave that topples the nearby observers. If the swords will refuse the honor of Lorelai’s touch, then he will make them obey the only way he knows how, by beating them into submission.
He takes the aura around him and materializes it into the form of a second axe, this one stained with a muddled silver. His attacks become much more varied, using the silver axe to send projectiles of aura at Lorelai while using the crimson one to upheave the surrounding land. These projectiles end up working against him, however, as Lorelai manages to deflect the aura straight back at him, forcing him to be attacked by his own power.
Lorelai takes advantage of his momentary lapse to stab at a dent in his armor, greatly weakening the aura protecting him. He becomes disoriented as she turns the tide against him, swiftly striking at his gaps and using kicks to smash into his helm. Sarathiel can only wail around him as she whittles away at defenses. She spins around his body as she slashes away, causing his eyes to lose her image whenever he attempts to follow her.
He changes his stance and begins to fight like a wild beast, smashing everything around him indiscriminately. Lorelai counters his blows every time, deflecting and dodging gracefully with the same dance that Sarathiel has come to worship. They fly throughout the area in a waltz of steel and might. Each step sways with purpose, every slash swings with a fervent ardor. No matter how many times Sarathiel tries to reach her, she always remains just outside of his reach.
And yet, despite the elegant display, the blades still show no sign of yielding to her. They remain sickeningly dulled, and nary a color of aura comes out from the twin treasures. Why must they be so stubborn to the very end? Are they truly going to forsake her?
“You won’t be able to kindle your blades like this, Lorelai!” He roars. “You need to burn brighter! Force your blades to bend to your will. Make them submit before you!”
Sarathiel becomes faster and more ferocious, his bloodlust increasing the longer the battle goes on. His eyes radiate a dark red hue, and madness controls his every step. His breathing turns ragged as his voice cries out with a brutish, feral howl.
Lorelai attempts to strike at his gaps and weak points amidst his uncontrollable frenzy, but his emboldened bulwark blocks her blows, showing no signs of weakening. With no other choice left, she takes a sharp breath and crosses her blades together, a faint spark momentarily appearing, and clashes with Sarathiel’s axe. The collision makes the spark grow bigger, brighter, until an explosive mass of aura sends the two flying.
Sarathiel picks himself back up and gazes at the radiating light before him. Color finally reappears back on the twin swords, and Lorelai combines the blades together, fusing the aura into a single, transcendent ray of gold and silver energy.
“O’ gleaming sun of the morning’s warmth. O’ shining moon of the evening’s kiss. Let your matrimony echo across the heavens. Combine together, and make the world rejoice at your union!” Lorelai chants as the two auras coalesce. The energy repels any who come near, and not even Sarathiel’s bulwark can protect him from the raw energy.
The sun and moon harmonize together and unleashes the true form of the treasure. The Solga and Luna are no more. Now, only a single greatsword remains. The blade is devoid of any and all color, as if a black hole is causing the light around it to be consumed, and a faint white glimmer coats the edge. It is nothingness, a void made manifests, and it shrieks with otherworldly hunger as it consumes the surrounding energy.
Lorelai takes a deep breath in and mutters a single word filled with overwhelming authority.
“Eclipse.”