Chapter 2
The Royals
Terrill Jacobs did not like the situation he was in, and that was saying something.
For a man who had gone passing through portals to realms of souls, fighting against eldritch creatures hellbent on destroying the world in some way. Even just battling ones intent on instigating a war that would bring it to its knees, Terrill thought he had experienced some of the zaniest situations he could have ever found himself in.
Which is why it baffled him to find himself surrounded by those he would call his countrymen, the soldiers of Sayn. Each of them had a spear or a sword out, and a few had aimed arrows at him and his companions on the wave-washed rock they had landed upon. Moored just offshore, bobbing amidst the choppy waters was a ship flying the flag of Sayn, proving beyond a doubt that it belonged to his country. It had more soldiers with weapons armed and aimed at Terrill, who was debating whether to draw his sword or throw his hands up.
The soldiers clearly demanded the latter.
“I will not say it again. Terrill Jacobs, Lumen Candoris-Regium, Charles Archovy, lay all weapons down and surrender. You are under arrest for crimes against the crown.”
“That is ridiculous!” The voice of the young man next to him had risen an octave and Terrill brushed his brown bangs aside, matted from the sea spray, to watch Lumen take a daring step forward. The young man’s blond hair whipped in the wind, his clear eyes no longer showing that wish of death that he had in the Shadow. Indeed, he faced it with clarity and a purpose of light that only earned him the soldiers pushing him back with a jab of their spears. Lumen was not deterred. “I am Lumen, nephew to the king of Sayn and Chosen One of our country. I am no traitor.”
“You are in league with one.” This voice held more authority, now coming from the ship that had been escorted to the island. Terrill remained unsure how it had gotten there so fast, though he supposed that he had been so distracted by reorienting himself in Dimidia, that he paid attention to little else. He also never thought he would be branded a traitor, but he didn’t yet reach for his blade. Instead, he watched the man clearly leading this minor operation walk down the ramp from the ship, two guardsmen flanking him.
Lumen leaned over to Terrill. “Malus Cray, a member of parliament, from Carth.”
“Looks like a pleasant fellow,” Terrill scoffed under his breath, earning himself the gaze off this “Malus”. Not that Terrill had much care for who or what his role was. He only cared for getting off this slab of deserted rock. Nevertheless, Malus continued his walk down, hands folded behind his back. His beady eyes flicked between the two that stood in defiance, and then down to their third companion.
Clearing his throat, Malus raised his hand, a rather wrinkled one at that, and pointed to where Charles lay, his breaths heaving. There still remained something off about him, but Terrill could not act, and Malus was speaking all the same. “Guardian Charles Archovy has been identified as an enemy of the kingdom.”
“That is utter nonsense!”
“Pray, your highness, do not speak lest we believe he acted under your orders.”
“Representative Cray, this is utter-”
“This comes from the king and his sons, dear Lumen,” Malus snapped. His other hand removed itself from behind his back to run through his wiry, gray hair that barely concealed his bald head, freckled with liver spots. Terrill felt he looked like he had one foot out of the door, but the chilling insistence his words carried said the exact opposite. Terrill chose to trust in that. “I would advise you to silence yourself until you can be brought to trial.”
“So, you intend to arrest us either way, is it?” Terrill finally spoke, addressing the man that had come to oversee the situation. Malus tore his eyes away from Lumen to put them upon Terrill. His lips twitched, though which direction they had was left up to speculation. He seemed fascinated in the Guardian before him, taking in Terrill’s figure, from his blade to his drenched traveling clothes, and even the fingers jerking at his side. For Terrill, it felt like permission to speak, even as the soldiers closed further ranks upon the ruined island. “Do you mind telling us what for? And for that matter, how you managed to find us so quickly?”
“I don’t believe in answering to traitors,” Malus said, a dismissive wave enabling him to get closer to Terrill until they were standing nose to nose. Despite his age, Malus measured up to Terrill, cocking his head to the side in observation. “That said, I am here to ensure the mission is complete and have no stake in how parliament will find you until we are all gathered there. The king’s court shall render that decision.”
“Answer his questions, Representative Cray!” Lumen tried to join the two of them, but a sword cut the air between them, pushing him away. Malus looked up to Terrill, a grin widening his face. It wasn’t malicious, but the foreboding news it delivered did little to improve Terrill’s opinion of it.
“You are to be placed under arrest for the profusion of monsters upon our land when your task was to eliminate them. Also, for the damage to our fair country, likely in league with the King of the Dark.”
Terrill frowned, still wishing to grab his sword but thinking better of it. It would do very little to improve their current situation if he were to act. Though I’m sure Floyd would act without hesitation…but he’ll have to wait for right now…
“So, if you suspect Golbrucht,” Terrill began to say, not taking his eyes from Malus while the gears in his head began to deduce his situation, “that means you were monitoring this space, where his castle once was.”
“We have been waiting dutifully for news of the Chosen One since his grand disappearance many weeks ago. However, once it became plain that he had failed in his endeavors, we could only blame but one man…” Malus sounded sympathetic, but his presented answer made him a more current threat. Terrill scoffed, at last understanding the game that was being played. Knowing it, he looked over to Lumen, the young man understanding and beginning to stand down, himself.
“We understand,” Terrill said, choosing to explain little more. Malus nodded graciously, glad they could expect no more struggle. With little recourse left, Terrill held his arms out, and a soldier stepped forward to cuff him, while another moved to rip the sword from his back.
“I’m glad you see the gravity of the situation. I’m sure more details will be elucidated in the capital, where we must return posthaste. Bring Sir Lumen to my quarters, and toss the Guardians in the brig for the return trip.”
“Sir!” The soldiers acted as one, those nearest to Terrill already beginning to usher him towards the ship. Lumen, too, was pushed forward, though with far less force. Malus advanced ahead of them, giving no time to the final member of their trio.
A gale blew through the area, making the hairs on the back of Terrill’s neck stand up. He twisted around, wondering if it was the same gale he had felt every time he clashed with Winifred, but saw no sign of her. He was given no chance, either, as the soldiers escorting him pushed him along. However, it turned out to be a harbinger of what happened next.
“Ah! What’s happening to him?!” One of the soldier’s screams made Terrill turn around, his captors distracted by the newest event. It wasn’t one that was hard to miss.
Where they had appeared on the island, Charles was surrounded, but instead of being shackled and contained, he was convulsing. He didn’t seem quite that conscious, either, the toll of their battle inside the Shadow far more destructive on his own body and soul than it had upon Lumen’s. Charles’s eyes were rolled into the back of his head, and from within his very body, tendrils of dark smoke were rising. Terrill wanted to jump in, fearing already that the strings which Golbrucht had used to long control the man were activating once again, but his captors had regained themselves, restraining him. His hand clenched, feeling the magic power of the earth rising inside him. This wasn’t Adversa. He could still fight back without a weapon.
Lumen was faster.
“Charles!” The young man broke free, pushing through the soldiers and barreling them aside to reach his protector. Charles was twitching this way and that, but compared to all the times that Terrill had seen him as the Phantom Knight, something was different. “You’re fighting back, aren’t you? He can’t take control of you here in Dimidia. Your darkness isn’t his! Overcome it!”
“Gah!” Charles screamed, the shadowy sinew threatening to overtake his entire body. His hand shot out, as if aiming for Lumen’s throat, but the man caught it, looking at Charles with determination.
“Fight it… Charles, we promised Terrill to live. So live!”
“Enough of this!” One of the soldiers was done, and with Malus no longer observing the proceedings, the larger man had no problems taking the butt of his spear and striking Lumen on the back of his head, knocking him down. He did the same to Charles, whose body went limp, though still covered in the shaky shadows. Terrill’s nails dug into his palm, and the island began to tremble before he realized what he was doing.
Not wanting a yet worse situation, Terrill breathed in, bringing the quake to an end. He turned away, allowing the soldiers to continue to escort him upwards, and then downwards. They were remarkably gentle with him, but that turned out to not be the case for the disobedient troops that tossed Lumen and Charles into the brig with him, shutting out all light and leaving them to hear the sloshing of the waves as they began to get underway. The only consolation was that as a representative’s naval vessel, it was well-maintained, and nothing like the pirate ship he, Floyd and Krysta had once been forced to squat in.
Once they had set sail back for the kingdom, leaving the island behind, Lumen groaned and awakened. Terrill wasn’t surprised when the first thing Lumen did was crawl to Charles and shake him vigorously. He just watched, his head tipping back as his mind tried to catch up with all that had happened in the last few hours alone.
Some part of him felt like he had emerged from some bizarre dream that had occupied the last few months of his life. From meeting Krysta to battling a shadow that threatened to consume a whole world made entirely of souls. He still wasn’t sure that he had made it back from Adversa and was truly in Dimidia; after all, he’d been able to use magic his whole life, and this was no different. The only sign he’d really seen were the shackles on his hands and the broken island where Golbrucht’s castle once was. Even then, the scorched land he’d seen, evidence of the Shadow’s assault… Was he really back home? Or had Golbrucht’s scheme bled over into the land of the physical?
Worse yet, bound and on his way to a trial, Terrill had to wonder at the most pressing matter of all: what was the King of the Dark up to, himself?
The question prompted him to look in Lumen and Charles’s direction. He could still recall diving after them, deep into the Shadow, living through their deepest regrets and their ardent wish to die. There was no guarantee they had truly let go of that wish or fate that had bound them, but it made the location they were heading to seem more imposing and treacherous than it would have been otherwise. Still, Terrill had more important things on his mind, and little time to discuss them; the island was not a far distance from the capital city of Sayn.
“Lumen.” His voice was commanding, and Lumen looked away from Charles as the older man groaned, coughing and spluttering. “Can you feel Atrum?”
“Feel…Atrum…?” The question confused Lumen, but both knew why he was asking. If Atrum was the physical manifestation of his soul, ripped away from him, there was a possibility he knew what he was doing. Sadly, Lumen shook his head. “No. If he were nearby, perhaps, but…”
“Nor can I…” Charles’s gruff voice gave Lumen the ability to sigh in relief. Terrill looked him over, and the Guardian gave a last cough. Some of the shadow spat itself on to the floor, fizzling for a moment before disappearing entirely. “His influence over me is…gone…”
“Tell that to the little show you put on back there, Charles.” Terrill continued gazing downward, locking on to the wound left behind; one where his previous companion, Walter, had run the man through. Or had it been Golbrucht taking control of Charles? He had no idea, and didn’t want to contemplate it. Getting out of here was going to be difficult enough.
“My body was rejecting the last of it. I have never felt clearer. Erg…” At his words, Charles grasped at the wound, pulling away with some blood. “Though it would seem not all my wounds were healed.”
“Yeah, because you both were death-seeking idiots!” Terrill snapped, flipping himself on to his feet as the boat rocked. Both of his companions stared up at him, one ashamed and the other wistful. “I want the full story on that nonsense, but now’s not the time. I need you to promise me that no matter what happens in the capital, no matter what choice I make, that you can stand by me and won’t just lay down and die.”
“I would never-”
“You trust me? After all this, Terrill Jacobs?” Charles’s melancholy overwrote Lumen, who slumped down with his hands in his lap. The ship rocked, and voices could be heard above. Terrill stared across at the man.
It was not a question without gravity.
While clarity had visited Terrill in Adversa, showing him the path he wanted to take, it was not without its bumps. One of those had been Charles, the grave Phantom Knight who had helped spark the war between Valorda and Invaria. Though he did not know the state of the two countries in Dimidia, he was all too aware of the consequence in that moment. Terrill blew upwards.
“When I arrived in Adversa, I thought I could do it all myself, but I learned pretty quickly that I couldn’t,” he responded after some thought. Loud noises were heard, and Terrill had the feeling they would be coming into port very soon, so he sped up. “I also know what it feels like to have another soul inside me, trying to actively harm me. I know you weren’t in full control. Your ties to his element, to darkness…”
“It was more than that,” Charles said under his breath, drawing a wild look from Lumen. “I wanted to die as atonement, and that despair…it pulled him all the tighter.”
“Well, he can’t do it here. That was the other thing I learned,” Terrill spat out, remembering that moment upon the boat when Atrum tried to take him home, and the others had refused. He wanted to see all of them again, even if just to thank them for that. “This is Dimidia, right? He needed us in Adversa because it was easier to control. The last vestiges of darkness must have tried to take root in you, but it couldn’t, so now you’re free.”
“That’s…one way to look at it.”
“Right now, it’s the only way. I can’t fight the Fiends or Golbrucht alone, and I don’t intend to. I need people I can trust, so…yeah, I’ll trust you.”
“Ha…that’s almost naïve.”
“Charles!” Lumen’s chastisement came to a sudden end by the wrenching of the door above, letting light pool into the brig. They all flinched as soldiers stomped down to pick them up with silence. It was a presence that told them to be silent all the same.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Terrill was grabbed from behind, his body yanked and pushed forward to climb the steps that would bring them to the deck. With groans of pain, Charles was forced to follow immediately after, until all three emerged into bright sunlight. Soldiers were running about the deck, some of the sailors working the mast as they approached the capital city of Sayn. To Terrill’s eyes it looked no different from how he remembered it, the village at the base of the castle surrounded by high walls.
It was even complete with the smoke that had been there when he visited in Adversa, but this one wasn’t from pirates.
“A monster attack,” came the cold comment from Malus’s lips. Terrill didn’t need his explanation for that. The grainy wisps of shadows were enough proof, lingering without the ability to create a true physical form. More than that was where the land had burned, leaving naught but withered grass just beyond the city. It was only in patches, but it was as clear a sign as ever that the Shadow had broken through to this side before he had managed to kill it.
All it communicated to Terrill was a message straight from Golbrucht: you haven’t beaten me yet.
“So, what happens now, Representative Cray?”
“You three will stand trial before the king’s tribunal and parliament. They will decide your fate.”
Fate, Terrill scoffed in his mind. He’d had enough of fate. That was all this had been about, and his lips twisted themselves into a scowl. Charles sought to elbow him, wishing for him to conceal it, but the action drove a grunt of pain from his lips. Neither spoke as the ship pulled into the harbor where a more regimented group of soldiers awaited them.
One of them was familiar to Terrill’s eyes.
“Captain Godfrey?” His words seemed to be lost on the waves, or perhaps Godfrey’s professionalism superseded response. Either way, the man gave no reaction to Terrill’s call. He did garner one from Lumen and Charles, who looked at him with intrigue, but Terrill didn’t follow it up. They’d be descending to the port soon enough, and he decided to wait.
Malus was the one to lead the procession down once they had anchored themselves in the port. Closer, now, Terrill could see the true extent of the damage done to Sayn. Piles of ashes peppered the city, and Terrill knew it had been a battle hard fought, though how long ago, he couldn’t say. Malus and Godfrey were quick to begin providing the answers. “How are things at the castle, Captain?”
“All fellow representatives and His Majesty are safe. The Archbishop is waiting with him in chambers, sir. Thank Crea that sudden influx of monsters only damaged the port. I shudder to think their effect if they had made it to the town or castle.” Godfrey’s report was met with dismissiveness from Malus, who jerked his head. The soldiers got the message and began to usher Terrill along. It earned a very confused look from Godfrey as he laid eyes upon Lumen.
“The town is under your purview, captain. I care little for anything but my duty in this moment.”
“Er…yes, sir…” Godfrey saluted, his armor clanking while his green eyes darted around. There was hesitation in his actions, ones which Terrill could feel through the earth. Seeing Lumen arrested and bound had unsettled him. That came as no surprise; Terrill was sure that very few except those he was about to meet knew anything about the true fate of the Chosen One. Less so why the one who should bring hope was in chains. Terrill was pushed along as he considered this, drawing even with the captain and locking eyes with the man.
“Captain.” Terrill’s nod was immediately recognized by Godfrey, though it lent nothing more than an extra air of confusion. He tilted his head in question, like Terrill was familiar to him, but couldn’t quite place where.
As Terrill was taken away from him, in the direction of the castle, he kept his eyes on Godfrey, but had no such luck in the man recalling him. Beyond the hint of familiarity, there was nothing to suggest they had ever met. Confirming that fact, Terrill chuckled. They really were in Dimidia.
Yet at the same time, it proved more than ever that the two worlds were connected, and with Golbrucht’s plan, the power of the soul was beginning to leak into the physical realm.
Putting Godfrey behind him, Terrill quickened his pace, enough for the soldiers to attempt to catch up to him, though they didn’t dare to yank him back. Not when they were all heading in the same direction. Charles and Lumen attempted to match pace, the trio and their escort following Malus over a bridge and towards the moat that surrounded the castle’s landlocked side. The drawbridge was lowered, allowing them access to the stairs that climbed up to the very seat of power in the kingdom, and they each began their ascent, eager to get whatever was coming over with.
The castle, itself, was not unfamiliar to Terrill. Though he had only been there a couple times during the days of the Chosen One Festival, it was not a difficult place to remember. Part of that was from it being the only notable piece of architecture in the city, with tall turrets that looked like they’d seen better days, to the steeple of the church that may as well have been fused with the building. To the side, and lower down as they approached the front gates, the coliseum could be seen: the place where Lumen and Atrum had once battled it out for the title of “Chosen One”. It left such a bitter taste in the mouth, now.
That taste improved little when they crossed over the threshold of the royal gate and into the front hall of the castle. The first remark Terrill made in his brain was how silent it was. Compared to the Invarian Palace, there were no servants running around and no depiction of a very lively state. Perhaps they had been beaten down by the monster attack, or the castle was holding one big bated breath for the trial of the “traitors” that were now in their midst. One of them being Lumen most certainly did not help matters, and the only souls in the castle, those of the royal guard, looked at the now defeated royal with apprehension.
What topped all of that, however, was the giant statue that stood in the front hall. Terrill had passed by it a few times in his two-year tenure as a Guardian, but this time it made him stop and truly look up at it. Lumen, too, stopped at his side, and though the guards tried to push them along, the young men were transfixed, with the royal nodding his head.
“So, it is him…” Terrill breathed. The placard beneath the statue said it all: a likeness of the first Chosen One who defeated the King of the Dark and set the cycle in motion. On its own, that was of uninteresting value to all but history buffs. But to Terrill, the words combined with the face made all the difference.
For the man who towered above those in the hall was in the exact likeness of Clay, the Fiend and Bane of the Earth that had troubled Terrill since he had entered Adversa. He knew he had seemed familiar, and in spite of the beard, they matched, making Terrill begin to wonder.
“Hurry now. The king has a limited time for this trial. Move along.”
Malus’s words held a different meaning for Terrill, one that Charles picked up on when he quirked his eyebrow. They wanted a swift end to the trial, truth be damned. They’d have their pound of Lumen’s flesh one way or the other. Terrill pulled away from the statue, a scowl now settling on his face as he and his companions were shunted across the hall, to a chamber at the side, far away from where one would usually meet with the king. It gave the impression of a grave matter, and Terrill felt that hit him with the blast of chilly air upon stepping through the doors.
This room was livelier upon entering, but not in any jubilant fashion. No, their arrival still brought with it mutters of cold indifference as Terrill took in the space around them. While the voices came from the body of representatives seated on rounded benches at the far end of the room, the room itself was circular, a long stretch of stone floor leading their way to a set of podiums. It was here that Terrill and his companions were led to, the soldiers chaining them to the stands before stepping back. As they did so, Malus sunk into a reverent bow, allowing Terrill to look up at the apex of the seats, to where the king was seated, along with his sons, each glaring down at Lumen. Directly off to his side was an older man, hands clasped in prayer, a clear sign of the archbishop, whose church and worship of Crea was closely tied to the royal family.
The only unexpected thing was that Lumen was not cowering in the face of his relatives, but staring up at them in defiance. Terrill resisted another chuckle; his time in the Shadow had truly changed him.
“Your Majesty, Your Worship,” Malus said, introducing the three criminals without speaking their names. The representatives quieted down, eyes transfixed as the room grew colder. Terrill felt his neck ripple with goosebumps, but simply shook his body to remove the chill. Malus stepped aside, presenting the men as he climbed back up to where his own seat in the parliament was located.
The king leaned forward. “Lumen.”
“Uncle.” Lumen’s response was resolute, causing a crease in the king’s forehead. “Sorry for not being dead.”
Charles pursed his lips, while Terrill’s eyebrows flew into his hair. Those simple words were enough to cause a sudden uproar in the chamber. The parliamentarians were suddenly divided, with some standing and stomping their feet at the outrage of such a possibility, while others remained sitting and shook their heads. The king sat back in his chair, looking to the archbishop. Terrill would have paid attention to the older man opening his eyes and ceasing his prayers, but he was more fascinated by the soldiers moving back, as though this revelation rocked them. The clatter of steel indicated that one of them had even dropped their weapons.
The loudest voices to draw attention, in any case, were those of the princes, who stood taller than the representatives. “This is absurd!”
“How dare you speak to father so! Gutter trash!”
“I see their opinion of Lumen has not changed…” Charles muttered, enough for Terrill to hear but no others. Indeed, the princes were shooting such venomous looks at Lumen, it was a wonder he didn’t wither under the weight of it. Every eye in the room was centered on the Chosen One, except for the archbishop and Malus, who remained calm and bored with the proceedings.
The king soon raised his hand, bringing silence. He cleared his throat. “Lumen. My nephew. You do know that you have been declared dead by the state.”
“Even without confirmation? Uncle, I knew my role in all this, but even so, I would have thought you’d confirm the body first.”
“And why should we have?” This voice was the archbishop’s, the man coming to stand as he adjusted the pince-nez on his nose. “It was deigned for you to perish, as is the fate of all Chosen Ones, decreed by our most illuminated goddess.”
“The prophecy, is it?” Lumen said, standing ever straighter. Despite the isolation and abuse he had suffered at the hands of the people before him, something told Terrill that this was Lumen’s arena, and it was best not to interfere. Charles’s reigning silence on the matter confessed the same. “Funny, how little you share in this prophecy, but use it to justify murder.”
“Do not talk back, cousin!” was the snide remark of what looked like the younger prince. He was clearly the one who had called Lumen trash, while his older sibling was more restrained and contemplative. Lumen faced him with dignity and unflinching stoicism. “You were selected as Chosen One for one reason and you failed to accomplish even that!”
“I slew the King of the Dark as was requested.”
“Then why are there monsters?!” shrieked a representative. “Why has our country not known peace? And where did you and that traitorous sham of a Guardian disappear to?”
“Indeed, where is the fourth approved member of your troupe? Perhaps he was the Chosen One all along!”
Terrill couldn’t help it at that one. Despite his meetings with kings and leaders in the past, his emotions this time got the better of him, and soon his bellowing laughter was silencing everyone in the hall. Lumen blinked, while the eyes made an immediate shift towards Terrill and his outpour of mirth. They would never understand the irony of what they had implied.
“Do you dare to disrespect this court?” called the older prince, silencing what laughter Terrill had left. He looked up at the man, seated callously as though he had no hand in the cruelties inflicted upon Lumen. “You are Terrill Jacobs, correct? Guardian from Hart?”
“I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know who I was. But this trial is a farce, so…yeah, I guess you could say I do disrespect it,” Terrill said. He kicked at some dust on his stand, feeling the stone under his feet. “Face it, you just want an excuse to cover up what you’ve done. A pretty efficient system. Send the Chosen Ones to their death, and the loyal lapdog hellbent on redemption to help along the way. No witnesses, but a continuation of the cycle. Guess Golbrucht’s survival was a problem with the plan.”
“Did you conspire to this?”
“Do I look like someone who would?” Terrill spat out at the prince. He seemed more reasonable than his younger brother, and the king accepted the words, as well. Only the youngest of the royals seemed agitated, not one for words. “I love Sayn. I joined Lumen’s entourage for the express reason of seeing Golbrucht felled, myself. Anything that got screwed up from there can be attributed to you guys, in my opinion. Sending your own nephew to his death…for what reason? What reason would be so compelling that you wouldn’t want him to walk away from that fight?!”
At first, Terrill thought he had stunned the men there into silence, except for those like Malus, who were already silent. Said man lifted his head, eyes narrowing in Terrill’s direction and scrutinizing him. The rest of them were also quiet before their clamor began to rise, calling him ignorant, foolish and a number of obscenities not befitting the noble men on the chairs. Terrill wanted to find amusement in having riled them up, but he preferred an answer to that burning question, and soon locked on the man who was able to give it.
The archbishop raised his hand, silencing the people in the room, reminding Terrill at the same time of the power the Church of Crea held in the kingdom. Even the young prince, who had threatened to leap down to the three of them, ceased movement at the archbishop’s action, his wild hair standing on end while he hissed. Before speaking, the archbishop adjusted his pince-nez. It did little to convince Terrill that the man was actually looking at them. He seemed more…above them, acceding to a higher power.
“In the beginning of the country, there was peace, and then the King of the Dark came.” Terrill scowled; he hadn’t asked only to be regaled with a tale that he already knew by heart. “The King was felled by a man, destined by fate to defeat the King. Only, the King returned, setting his monsters upon the fair country. In his wisdom, the leader of Sayn decreed a new Chosen One would be picked every year, and every year continued on and on the same.”
“Lambs led to the slaughter,” Charles said, his gruff tones the first to command attention away from the archbishop. The man did not appreciate the interruption, raising his voice to continue on with his history lesson.
“As more and more monsters rose, that destiny that dictated the first Chosen One was reexamined, and in its readings the truth was revealed: a royal would be born who would slay the King of the Dark for good and, in so doing, die.”
A prophecy, is it? Terrill snarled in his mind. His chains rattled where he stood, his magic threatening to eke out with anger. A look from Charles suppressed it, but it could not stop the quaking in his bones. His mouth opened, ready to spew forth words without fear of consequence. “So, you believed in fate, and embraced the death of someone, just for some prophecy that’s a sham?!”
“There is no sham.” This was the king speaking, but Terrill didn’t spare him from his ire. “All followed as according to fate: the soldier from a distant land, and the war that engulfed the world.”
“The war…?” Now, Terrill’s shackles were threatening to break, the room shaking and causing the representatives to shiver and hold to one another in abject fear. The youngest prince stood, looking down with wild eyes, but more at Lumen, licking his lips with feral intent. How Terrill wished he could teach them all… “You knew about the war from a prophecy and let it kill your own? You would send your own relative to be killed? There is nothing that could justify the taking of another life!”
“It was a sacrifice.”
“There should have been no sacrifice at all!”
“Silence, traitor!” The prince had had enough, rushing down the benches to land on the stone floor where they stood. He was crazed, as if the sight of these three before him was a threat to his continued existence. “The prophecy made it plain: when the Chosen One dies, Sayn will know peace and everlasting prosperity. We will be free. But my dear cousin screwed up the plan! And his stupid Guardians made it worse! Betraying and defiling the country! How lucky you returned to us, Cousin Lumen!”
“If it means defying your fate, gladly,” Lumen said, daring the prince to make another move against him.
“Leopold, stand down. There is no reason for violence.”
“Then for what purpose did you bring him here, father?” Prince Leopold cackled out. With his manic eyes, Terrill felt him more wicked than Golbrucht, an observation that continued to prove itself when he approached a soldier and ripped Terrill’s blade from him, approaching Lumen with feral ferocity. The archbishop shook his head. “You have seen what it was like outside: monsters attacking everywhere, the burning of the land. It was all because he failed to kill the King! Failed to die alongside him! The prophecy must be set right, for the glorious future of Sayn!”
“Your Highness-”
Leopold was past the point of listening to any concerns. Some of the representatives turned away, unable to watch when Leopold reached the defiant Lumen and forced his head down on the podium. Terrill’s sword was raised above his head. Terrill’s own bones felt like cracking, the chains along his wrists splitting apart.
“As prince of this nation, I, Leopold, condemn Lumen, Charles and this mouthy traitor to the death, for the prosperity of Sayn!”
“Lumen!” Charles shouted, clearly unable to stop himself when the blade descended. Lumen closed his eyes, meeting death head on.
Then a pillar of stone, split with red veins, struck the prince, flinging him into the wall and cratering it. Terrill’s sword clattered, leaving Leopold passed out on the floor, many calling for him. Charles whipped around to Terrill, but all too quickly, both Guardians realized he had not been the source of the magic that had saved Lumen’s life.
Terrill didn’t need three guesses to figure out who the caster was.
“How many centuries has it been, and still Sayn has not changed, so eager to send boys to their deaths on a misguided notion of a prophecy that was misunderstood.” The thunderous clacking of footsteps entered the hall, the doors thrown wide open. Many looked to see who it was, but Terrill didn’t dare. He was more concerned with his weapon, and how to reach it before the soldiers would be on him. “Born to family royal gold, a boy who shall be brave and bold. A Chosen One to fight the King, a Chosen One whose era shall ring. A King and Chosen One, fated to clash. In their clash, they create strife. At the end of strife, prosperity. Born to die, the Chosen One is. Born to survive, the great king is. Clash, clash, the world demands its flow. Clash, clash, the gathering of souls. So says the scriptures. So says the goddess.”
The footsteps stopped. With them, the quaking ceased. Lumen raised his head, recognizing the voice just as Terrill did. It came as a greater shock to the rest gathered there. One even managed to speak up about it.
“You…you’re…you look like him!”
“How quaint to find you’ve forgotten my struggle, continuing to sacrifice lives, using them as pawns in a game. Though I am not one to talk. I, too, am guilty of great sin in accordance to fate. What fools we have all been.”
Another clang resounded, and with it, the tremors renewed themselves, the sound of an axe cleaving through stone sending fear to all who stood there. All except for Terrill, staring up at the guest that had joined them, the one who bore the likeness of the Chosen One, and had arrived to see that truth split open.
To that, Terrill spoke his name. “I’m not surprised you’re here, Clay.”