49 Years Ago

The year was 297. The Hallow War had yet to consume the entire living realm in Arla. King Froll, the Ascended Incarnate of Death, was leading his kingdom’s quest to unify the Meadows against the Desert. His nephew Stefan, the son of his twin brother Prince Ordo, was the Commander of the Akarian Forces and had been sent to the city of Bellum to win the heart of Princess Jolial.

***

“Stefan is approaching the palace, father.” Princess Jolial informed King Dyr, her father.

Jolial had been sneaking back into the palace after a night with Princess Penña, still wearing her billowing ball gown from the night before, when she saw Stefan’s carriage approaching the Rosen Palace. The carriage’s exterior was dressed in dark hues of black and blue, slowly approaching the palace that bleeds red.

As soon as she entered the palace, Jolial searched the entire building for her father until she finally found him on the third level in the Red Room where vivid portraits hung on the walls, transparent tapestries draped from the ceilings, and a long velvety rug stretched from the entrance to the back wall.

King Dyr, the Incarnate of the God of War, was hunched over a table eating a bowl of pear porridge.

“The boy does not quit, does he?” The king huffed, before slamming his fists over the wooden table.

Dyr’s outburst caused the entire room to shake, something it was quite used to. In response, the walls murmured sweet consoling whispers. The room was drumming with high powered emotions and magic.

While the walls calmed King Dyr, Jolial raced over towards the table and picked up a gold vase with red roses that had fallen over.

For months, Stefan and his father had been trying to strong arm the Kingdom of War into an unification marriage but Dyr did not desire it for his daughter. Princes Jolial, on the other hand, liked Stefan.

“Maybe, we should listen to Stefan and his uncle.” Jolial said nervously. The bronze freckles that were usually noticeable were now covered with a red blush.

King Dyr leaned back into his seat, robe slightly opening, and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe, the whispers aren’t wrong.” She added, then darted her eyes away. “Maybe, something is going on in the Desert.”

King Dyr’s face suddenly hardened. “We’ll see about that.”

***

Present Day

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

In the cold city of Azulae, a permanent fog conceals and encloses the city. Shrouding it in mystery from outsiders. Death hated eavesdroppers.

Azulae is one of twelve cities that make up the Kingdom of Death. It is a city of observant crows, dream sorcerers, and great treasures. It is the home of Stefan, the Immortal King, where he lives in the Grand Palace, a four level spectacle covered in black paint.

After news of Queen Rosar’s death broke, Prophexians immediately made their way to the palace for answers. After some encouragement by Lord Flip, Stefan decided to greet the protesters. But before he would greet them, he wanted something by his side.

“Fetch Jolial.” He instructed Lord Flip, before dismissing him. He wasn’t going out there without his treasure. They needed to be reminded.

***

At the back of the palace, there stood a white stone structure with one door.

After being dismissed, Lord Flip retrieved a hooded coat from his room, a black sack, and quickly exited the palace, head lowered, gently elbowing anyone in his way. The old Lord had seen enough protests in his lifetime.

It didn’t take long for him to reach the lone white building behind the palace. The inside smelled woody with a splash of lemon. There wasn’t much furniture except for three chests and a stack of paintings placed against the right wall next to a few dead plants. Lord Flip knew exactly where to go. He’d been inside more times than anyone.

When he reached the white chest with the treasure against the back wall, he immediately noticed the lock was already undone. Strange, he thought to himself.

He made a mental note to ask the servants about it later.

Before Lord Flip opened the chest, he inhaled a deep breath followed by a shaky exhale. This part always made him feel sick. He could feel the sweat beginning to drip down the sides of his head. With another shaky inhale, he slowly raised the lid, gripping the wood tightly.

“Thank the Gods.” He exhaled, smiling. The stench was gone.

When he was ready, Lord Flip gently reached around the items inside, trying his best not to damage the iced treasures. Each was precious, once full of life and vitality.

It didn’t take Lord Flip long to find what he was looking for. It was the biggest thing inside. The frozen head of Jolial.

Once Lord Flip had a good hold on what Stefan called his most precious war trophy, he placed it inside the black sack he brought with him before closing the chest that contained the other war trophies—the remains of fallen soldiers.

“Let this be the way of the Gods.” He said, voice shaking.

The elder Lord wasn’t always a Defender. A defender of the Sovereign Crowns.

Before meeting Stefan, Flip was a Resistor. Just like his parents, he didn’t believe the Gods would ever return nor agreed with the existence of the Ascended Incarnates. But after meeting Stefan, he began to believe again. Stefan showed him that man could handle and wield godly power, appropriately. Lord Flip knew Stefan better than anyone. His desires, his secrets. The truth about Prince Mel’s parentage. He knew Stefan was more than the monster he portrayed himself to be. That there was more to the story of Jolial and her death.

After he gathered himself, Lord Flip slowly made his way to the front door with a limp that would return sporadically. The war took a lot of things from him.

When he reached for the knob, something suddenly pulled him back and violently flung him to the ground, head bouncing off the marbled floor.

“I’ll be taking this.” The voice snarked, then snatched the head out of his grasp he managed to hold onto.

Lord Flip then rubbed the back of his head before directing his gaze towards the body where the voice came from. When Lord Flip made eye contact with the voice, his eyes widened in horror. It was as if Lord Flip was looking at a mirror. In front of him, Lord Flip was looking at himself. But then the man’s eyes glowed green.

“It can’t be.”

The man began to smile. “Tell my father, I said hello.”