The message from the prince came three days later discreetly through a messenger who’d searched him by name. Shaden was finally relieved to receive it because he’d been wanting to finish things once and for all and to be completely free from anything else.
It took him a while to find the place the prince had designated for him, but eventually, he stepped forward into the moonlight within a dark, narrow alleyway where a cloaked man was sitting on some crates—a beggar in disguise. It wasn’t Prince Salahin as Shaden soon discovered, but a new face. There was a flicker of light as the man pressed his hand into a scroll, which faded into ashes when the spell was cast around them.
“So?” Shaden demanded. “What do I have to do?”
“Four days from now, the Festival of Red Skies will occur,” answered the stranger. “All of the Royal Family will be there to address the population. Salahin asks that you whisk him away into the sky, just as a spirit would ascend. Then you will hide him, and he will finally be free.”
It was odd that the man didn’t address the prince as ‘Your Majesty’ after everything Shaden had learned, but Shaden didn’t really care. He nodded.
“I can do that,” he replied. “Where do I take him afterwards?”
“The prince has his arrangements known only to a few,” said the stranger. “I request that you will make sure to keep this a secret and take it to your grave.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Shaden promised. “So, does he have any preferences? Like fire, or darkness, or light?”
“Light would be good,” the man decided. “If you could blind the people and make the prince vanish at that moment, it would be excellent.”
They talked over the smaller details, and Shaden left after hiding himself, making sure no one was following him. Though they knew his face—many people knew his face. He had a bad feeling that he’d somehow messed up by being overly public and that it would come to bite him in the neck later on, but he couldn’t rewind time. He’d have to deal with the consequences later, but so far things had been okay.
Four more days. He’d finally be free to do whatever he wanted. Responsibility wasn’t as exciting as he’d imagined it to be, and it was more of a burden than him doing cool things. His responsibilities as being the Heir of Skotos—it was definitely different from doing tasks for the prince. It would likely be worse, and with the eeriness that surrounded his heritage, he assumed that he’d have to kill someone sooner or later as an assassin for the family. The thought had been cool in the beginning. Who wouldn’t want to be a mysterious overlord that ruled in the shadows? But when he’d looked back at his encounter with the prince and his soldiers, he had the feeling that he’d come very close to something he would have regretted immensely—taking someone else’s life.
He couldn’t deny the fun element of hurting others. But seeing their faces writhing in pain, looking at him as if he was some kind of monster—it wasn’t something he’d be able to forget.
It was always bearable when he was circulating. His thoughts and body were his to control, and fear and panic were emotions he couldn’t feel. But when the magic wore off and the memories remained—that was what kept him from sleeping until he circulated again.
It was better for Demund since things always felt watered down when he woke up. It was why he had to try again and again to reproduce magic in the waking world, but now that he thought of it, maybe it was for his sanity that the worlds were never truly connected.
He’d be more careful now that he’d learned. A small mistake had caused all of this mess, and it was something he never wanted to reproduce. An unstressful, enjoyable adventure—that was what he wanted as Shaden.
Though he couldn’t shake off the ominous feeling that things wouldn’t remain the way he wanted them to be.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
“Invited?” Shaden exclaimed, looking up at Shaya while lowering his flute. “Me?”
“Yes. They have requested your presence at the Festival,” Shaya told him. “You don’t have to go if you do not want to—it was not a command. The major families must attend, but you can decline. I will have to go as the representative.”
“What about Eshel or Keyga?”
“Eshel will come, though my brother will stay behind.”
“What would I do if I went?”
“You would introduce yourself to His Majesty the King if he is present, and you will sit in the seat of honor for your feats at the Wall,” Shaya answered. “I apologize. It seems like you did heal over ten thousand people. I’ve only heard tales, but does the one under the mountain really exist?”
“No blessings of any sort,” Shaden said. “I think I was a little special from birth.”
“But you are truly a blessing to us. It would make me happy if you came to sit at the festival.”
And that had been two days ago, and it had come out of nowhere. Of course, the method by which these nations gathered and processed information was bound to be slower than that of Demund’s world. But this was a world of magic, wasn’t it? Shaden couldn’t help but feel that things were a little slow on their part. As powerful as he was, it didn’t feel like he was getting the hospitality one would get for being incredible as if he was being pushed off as a second thought. That, or the people of Antafar weren’t very good at being quick.
What he’d learned so far was that the families—while subservient to the throne—weren’t exactly fully under the control of the Royal Family since they lived so apart from each other. It wasn’t a centralized government, and even at the Wall, no one had really cared about the order from the prince until he’d made himself known. Had he vanished, no one would have noticed until many days later.
Still, Prince Salahin had discovered people from the family going in and out of the city. And given his personality of being crazy (from what Shaden had seen), it was very likely that he’d sent people to spy on the family just to see his words through. Why he’d waited until he’d returned to give the punishment, Shaden didn’t know.
But today, things would become clearer than before.
“Do I smell good?” Eshel asked, leaning closer to Shaden. “I can’t believe that we are attending the Festival as guests. It would be terrible if I reeked of sweat.”
“You smell fine,” Shaden assured. “Want me to cast some cleansing magic on you?”
“Please do.”
Ever since the incident at the Sun Palace, Eshel had begun treating him less like a child and more like a human being, though Shaden couldn’t help but feel like there were some forced feelings. The people were being more cautious around him, and the naturality had cracked, though he could see them trying to act the same. He didn’t know what to feel about it, so he was simply going with the flow for now. It would heal itself with time.
He raised a hand and cast a cleansing spell on Eshel, the same one he’d used on Eilae during their travels. It removed stickiness on the skin as well as dust and other particles, though there was a side effect Shaden had forgotten had existed.
“The perfume!” Eshel complained in a small voice. She looked at Shaden. “I meant, thank you. I feel cleaner.”
She took out a bottle and pressed a few drops of liquid into her wrist, then spread it around her neck and arms. The smell she’d had before returned, and she returned the bottle to her bag.
“Sorry about that,” Shaden said. “Is it expensive?”
“It is,” Eshel nodded. And that was the end of the conversation. Shaden wished she’d be as assertive as before, but the balance had shifted. He didn’t like it. Maybe he was overthinking things.
They arrived at their destination eventually—a tall building the same color as the Sun Palace, though shaped more like a pyramid that had a flat top. There was a tall iron fence surrounding it, and the carriage made its way through the people into the gates, and soldiers closed them behind them while the people watched from the outside. The place wasn’t teeming yet, but there were still many people around. He guessed they were here for the King or whoever to address the crowd.
“I can smell the ocean from here,” Shaden commented, wanting to make small talk. “Do you think they’ll serve us seafood?”
“There will be all sorts of food you could only imagine eating,” Eshel said. “I heard this place has a wonderful view of the sea.”
“Now, keep your manners as we enter,” Shaya told them, straightening her dress. “Who knows? There might be a handsome young man who is just right for you.”
“Speak for yourself,” Eshel muttered, but she didn’t look too upset about it.
Shaden looked at the women’s faces that had been plastered with confidence. Just a few days ago, Eshel had had trouble eating because of stress, and Shaya had been seen walking impatiently left and right through the family grounds while she’d waited for her messengers to arrive with proof of their safety. He’d tried to reassure them, but they hadn’t been satisfied until the decree from the prince had arrived. Only now had they recovered, and they were about to meet face-to-face the very person who’d tried to bring their family to doom.
Prince Salahin had been a bastard the more he’d thought about it. People’s lives weren’t meant to be treated so lightly—and yet Shaden had been prepared to kill him. Self-defense? Maybe, but he’d spent his time thinking about it and why exactly the shadow had stopped him. That was still a mystery in itself.
He inspected Shaya’s smiling face as she greeted some people within the building. The guards they’d brought with them had been left outside, and even their animals were at home since any dangerous elements were forbidden from being brought before the Royal Family. Perhaps Shaya had wanted him to come because he would be their only line of defense if something did happen, though Shaden doubted anything would. He had a task today, and he was confident he could pull it off.
They made their way to the second floor, where even more people were standing around, surrounded by tables filled with food and waiters going around with drink platters on their hands. Nobles of different sizes and shapes, all exotically clothed, some with bones weaved into their robes. Others wore gold and jewelry, precious stones from afar. Shaden didn’t know any of them, nor did he care to. But immediately, he could feel their eyes on him when they made themselves known, and it didn’t help him that he was the only child around, with the rest of them all being adults much taller than him.
They made their way to the front of the room where a beautifully carved throne had been positioned. A man with an ornate crown looked up after seeing them near, and the nobles that had been talking with him moved out of the way to let them pass.
Shaden had noticed the relics of power that adorned the man long before he’d seen them. He’d seldom seen such objects of power before. And seeing the way no one else had such items except the crowned man, Shaden could tell that they were in the presence of another prince, someone who looked much more reasonable than Prince Salahin. He was older, calmer, and carried with him an atmosphere of calmness and dignity as he smiled softly at them. When Shaya and Eshel bowed, Shaden found himself bowing with them.
“Shaya and Eshel of the Jakhar Kishaks are pleased to be in your presence,” Shaya spoke, raising her head when the man waved his hand. “This is—”
The man nodded once. “The Green Child,” he stated, getting up from his seat. “I have heard of you. And it was I who sent the invitation. Welcome, welcome! They speak of you in the east where the sun rises.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Shaden said. He’d learned some manners from Eshel, and he didn’t want to cause more complications by being haughty. If his memory was correct, there were three princes in Nafar, and Salahin was the second. The third was a boy, so it meant this man could only be the first prince—Crown Prince Velhamor.
“I wonder how you came to be in the hospitality of the Jakhar Kishaks,” Prince Velhamor said, spreading his arms. “Nevertheless, you have been a blessing to our land. May your time here be long and prosperous, and may our wrongs not interfere with the good we can do in the future.”
So he knew about his troubles with Prince Salahin. Shaden was glad that he wasn’t considered an enemy, since there had been witnesses who’d seen the prince scream death threats at him.
“I think the same, Your Majesty,” Shaden agreed. “The Jakhar Kishaks are like a family to me. If something were to befall them, I’d waste no time helping them.”
Now that Shaden had said it, it sounded like a subtle threat, but thankfully, Prince Velhamor smiled, though his eyes began to look like Salahin’s.
A family resemblance, Shaden thought, nothing else.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“In this land where the sands tear us apart, such statements are commendable,” the prince said. “Please, I shouldn’t bore you with my words. Enjoy the feast, and enjoy the pleasures of the land. You are my guest, and no harm will come to you. Not even from those of Royal Blood, if my father would be willing.”
Shaden could see heads turning—including Salahin’s, who’d been watching from the left of the room next to the throne. He sipped his goblet of wine, and Shaden thought he saw the man rolling his eyes before resuming his conversation with the men around him, who whispered fervently.
“That would be an honor,” Shaden said. “Then—allow me to take my leave.”
The prince nodded, and Shaden left Shaya and Eshel behind to eat all of the tastinesses that had been prepared. The smells had been so enticing, and he grabbed a large plate and began to pile it up before heading to a table where he sat down and began eating. A waiter soon came and offered him a drink, and he detoxified the alcohol before taking a sip. It was a little bland, but the aroma was something he’d never felt before.
Ah, this is the life, he thought, then he realized the number of people that were sending glances in his direction. He could even hear some of them whispering about what had happened at the Wall and chuckles of disbelief. Shaden tried his best to ignore them and enjoy the luxurious food, but his peace was ruined when someone came to greet him, sitting down in front of him at the table.
“You must be the Green Child!” the man before him said. “Is it true that you healed ten thousand people in a matter of weeks?”
“And you are?”
“I am Nohsan, son of Nohcam,” the man said. “My father has told me to give you his thanks if I ever got the chance to see you.”
The son of the Lord General of the Wall of Arrows. So the Wattayurks had attended the festival as well.
“They treated me well,” Shaden replied. “But yes, it’s true.”
“I find it hard to believe, but my father isn’t one to lie,” the man said enthusiastically. “Where do you come from?”
“Not here,” Shaden answered. “But the Jakhar Kishaks are like a family to me.”
“But you do not even have the same skin color! Perhaps you are bound by a sort of truce? Though I’ve never heard of the Jakhar Kishaks having any sort of ties with the outside, aside from the Empire. Perhaps you are from one of the families in the Empire?”
“Not really.”
“Please, do tell me more about you. I would love to know.”
Shaden had a feeling that the man didn’t think of him more as an interesting child, but he had been warned by Shaya that many people would try to learn about him to use the information against him, so it would be better for him not to speak too much.
“There’s not much to know,” Shaden told him, eyeing his food. The man took the hint and nodded, getting up.
“I must have interrupted your meal,” he apologized, straightening his robe. “But I would like to show my thanks someday. Ask for me, and I will be delighted to meet you again.”
Now Shaden felt bad, but he wanted to continue eating, so he didn’t argue. “Thank you,” he told the man, and he went on his way to socialize with others.
Shaden sighed. He didn’t like talking to strangers that much. It tired him somehow, even when he was circulating.
No one tried to approach him after that. Many seemed like they wanted to, but to them, Shaden was an unknown factor that had popped out of seemingly nowhere. But they were more willing to talk to Shaya and Eshel, who were constantly being surrounded by nobles that bombarded them with greetings and questions. Shaya looked ecstatic, but Eshel seemed like she was about to collapse in her shoes.
Not even an hour had passed, but Eshel retreated with a plate of dessert to the table Shaden was sitting in, letting out a large puff of air through her nose while she took a glass from a servant.
“I thought this would be more fun,” she whispered to him, putting a piece of confectionery in her mouth. “Where’s the dancing? I was looking forward to that.”
“Dancing? I thought this was a festival, not a ball.”
“Yes, you are right.”
She was strangely annoyed for some reason, and Shaden could relate. With all the small talk and gossiping going on, Shaden knew that politics wasn’t something he ever wanted to set his foot into, nor did he think it was something Eshel would like either.
“I bet you want to go home and take care of the birds,” Shaden told her.
She smiled. “How did you know?”
“You look very tired and annoyed,” he said quietly.
“Does—does it show a lot?”
“Yes.”
She frowned, then gently touched her face.
“I’m a little afraid, Shaden,” she confessed, taking a sip of her cup. “You must be perfect here, and I feel like I am failing at it, no? It tires me. I don’t know how my sister manages.”
“Different people have different talents,” Shaden sighed, “but I agree. I’d rather be playing my flute than being here.”
“Have you gotten better at it?”
“A little. I can play all of the notes now.”
“So quickly?”
“Well, I did spend hours on it each day.”
It had been awkward talking to Eshel ever since the incident, but here, sitting among strangers, doing what they both wanted to be out of, the invisible walls that had formed between them had broken, if only a little, and he found himself recovering the previous, light mood between them. And the festival became more enjoyable somehow. And at that moment, that was what he cared about most.
“Have you tried this fish?” Shaden said, pointing to his plate. “It tastes sweet, but it’s surprisingly good.”
“Oh, of course. It’s quite popular around here. I’d say you should try the prawns.”
“They look raw.”
“A little. But if you like strong-smelling foods, you’ll like that one. But I still can’t get used to the different spices.”
“The spices are what elevates the dish.”
“I don’t understand why you like spices. There aren’t many spices in Melern, no?”
“I traveled around a lot. You know, I’m something of a connoisseur myself.”
“Tell me more about it.”
So they talked about what they hadn’t been able to back at home. And they talked a lot before the trumpets played and everyone got up—Eshel motioned to him to stand, which he did.
The King had arrived. Unlike the princes, he had no crown on his head but rather a soft white hat with golden embroidery in the shape of wyverns. Looked very old with silver and grey hair, along with a long beard of the same color that looked more rugged than neat. But his eyes had not yet lost their light.
It was Shaden’s first time seeing a king, and the experience was less intense than he’d expected. He’d seen greater individuals, after all. Moreover, besides the various jewelry that buzzed with power around the king, he had no striking features. His mana felt above average, but not incredible (unless he was hiding it) and there was none of the distinct aura Shaden could feel when he met certain, powerful individuals.
Like the man that had walked in with the King. Damud, Shaden recalled. Shaden was surprised when their eyes met and the man’s eyes lingered for more than a second on him before turning away.
Did he know? He’d been the first one to respond that day. And the prince had mentioned him to him. This was someone he had to be wary of, someone who Shaden didn’t know how powerful he was—but he was powerful. Shaden had no doubt he’d be able to slice through anything he sent at him, excluding his shadow abilities.
When everyone had hushed down, the King began to speak. His voice was astonishingly powerful—something Shaden hadn’t expected from an old man.
“Once again, we have gathered to celebrate,” the King spoke from his throne. “And though the skies have not yet turned red, we will celebrate, as is our custom. I commend the tribes and families…”
The speech went on, and Shaden exchanged glances with Prince Salahin, who pressed his lips together into a thin line. Not yet.
The speech to the nobility was short, and the King, surrounded by the princes and his royal escorts, made his way to the balcony while the nobles stood behind them orderly. Eshel pulled Shaden to Shaya, and they stood in position while the King gave his speech to the people.
Shoot. If he vanished, someone was bound to notice. He would have to make the prince disappear remotely. He’d practiced it, but he’d wanted to do it more up close.
Shaden closed his eyes. He slithered his threads of mana to Prince Salahin and increased the output once he’d gotten a hold on the man, adding his family’s magic to it to make it undetectable.
Light. He’d need light to make this work.
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered and exploded the prince with a flashbang.
It was terrifying to see Damud immediately react to place himself between the King and Prince Salahin, but Shaden had lessened the light to let the people see the prince float up while his body still glowed. Even Prince Salahin looked bewildered, though Shaden wasn’t sure if it was an act or not.
Shaden knew he’d have to get closer to make this work. While everyone’s attention was on the prince, he let himself fade away, and taking the opportunity, walked past the King and stood on the edge of the balcony to focus. He whistled. There were a lot of people watching below.
Well, the prince had been a jerk. He could take this moment to exact revenge on the man.
It was pleasant to hear the prince scream while his body shot upwards like a bullet, up into the clouds until he was but a speck to everyone watching from below. Shaden then cloaked the man in magic to make him undetectable and let him freefall back to the earth, and while his screams were muted from the magic, Shaden could tell that the man was terrified from the way his body had frozen like a corpse.
Prince Salahin’s eyes were wide like saucers when Shaden placed him on the ground below, into the cart that had been prepared. Shaden chuckled. It felt great to have his revenge, even if it was a little petty. But now, no one would bother him again. Even if Salahin wanted to do something, Prince Velhamor had promised his protection.
Why hadn’t he thought of that before? To deal with unreasonable people, he’d simply have to find more powerful people who were reasonable. Shaden sighed. He’d do that next time if something similar happened.
He quickly returned behind Eshel before anyone could notice, but when he made himself appear, he saw Damud turn his face towards him, his eyes focused on him like an eagle’s. Shaden gulped, but thankfully, the man didn’t say anything and turned away.
Finally. He was free. He’d made some stupid decisions, been pushed around like a tool, but he was finished. He promised himself that it wouldn’t happen again. He’d learned from the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t something he wanted to go through another time.
Making people fly around is a good form of intimidation, he noted. He could do that to the next jerk he came across.
The King somehow finished his speech despite the great commotion that had begun within the people, and it was probably because of that incident that the Festival ended sooner than later. Eshel seemed happy about it, as well as Shaya, who couldn’t stop smiling the whole way back to their place. When Shaden asked, she replied with,
“Maybe it was divine retribution,” she said, crossing her arms, “or you. Was it you?”
“Who knows?” Shaden shrugged, and Shaya laughed.
“Is he dead?”
“Not really. But I don’t think he’ll bother us again.”
“Incredible and terrifying.”
The prince was probably on his way out of Antafar to enjoy the freedom he’d so dearly wanted, but Shaden had wiped his mind of the prince already. He’d forget about the whole, unpleasant experience. He doubted he would see the man again, and if he did, he’d send him flying again.
Shaden was feeling quite pleased with himself when they arrived home. He was heading towards his room when he spotted Keyga on the floor, playing with bugs.
Ah. The boy had missed out on all of the food, and seeing him alone, Shaden couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Clearing his throat, he approached the boy, who looked up at him.
“What?” he frowned. “Are you here to brag?”
“Huh?” Shaden said.
“I don’t care,” Keyga muttered.
Shaden scratched his cheek. It was during times like this that he wanted the ability to read people’s hearts, but he couldn’t. But Keyga was just a boy, right? Shaden was confident he knew how he could please the guy since children were easy to please.
“Do you want to play with Grak?” Shaden offered, and Keyga rolled his eyes.
“I’m fine with bugs,” he said. “Leave me alone.”
Another day, then.
“Keyga!”
It was Eshel that had heard them, and she approached with her hands on her hips. “Do not talk to him like that. You will answer properly.”
“But I did,” the boy complained, and the bugs on his hand scurried away into the dirt.
“No you didn’t,” she said. “He’s a guest, remember? Do we treat guests this way?”
“No.”
“You got your clothes dirty again.”
“Yeah, because no one was around to stop me.”
Shaden nervously looked between the two, who almost seemed to glare at each other. Keyga’s fists were balled up, and Eshel’s frown was becoming deeper each second.
“Now, now, does it matter?” Shaden interjected, waving his arms.
“You’re awful,” Keyga spat, sticking his tongue out. Then he pranced away, vanishing into the buildings. Eshel sighed, then shrugged.
“Children,” she muttered. “My brother is as immature as they can get.”
“Are you sure?” Shaden said, still looking in the direction the boy had run off into. “He seemed pretty upset. I mean, we left him and everything.”
“Yes, I know. I’ll talk with him later,” she sighed. “I just wish he would grow up.”
“He’s eleven.”
“And you’re ten. How are you so mature for your age?”
“I think I’m the weird one.”
“I can see that. But—forget it. He’ll be back to normal soon.”
Maybe. But Shaden still didn’t like it. After spending a while with Kibra, he’d seen that children were people, just less informed and simpler. Well, he’d always known that, but he’d felt it more closely this time. He could be friends with them, despite their age difference—and enjoy the simplicity.
That’s what he told himself, but he was feeling lazy today. Eshel was his sister, so she probably knew better than him. He could afford to relax with an empty mind for now.
So he went back to his room to practice his flute.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
Things weren’t fine. Keyga hadn’t joined for dinner, nor had he been present in his room. Eshel had shrugged it off, saying that he’d come back sooner or later after he’d had his fill of adventure, but on the night of the second day, they knew something had gone wrong when the boy still hadn’t returned.
Shaden was yawning as he scanned the city, jumping from building to building while he spread his mana over the vicinity, trying to find Keyga. He groaned internally. Just when he’d solved one problem, another one had to arrive so quickly.
Then he found the boy napping behind the settlement after he’d circled the city for a good few hours, and although he felt like sending the guy flying off into the night sky, he decided not to and instead nudged Keyga on the shoulder. The boy stirred and opened his eyes, but when he saw him, he turned around.
“Go away,” he muttered. “I’ll go back when I want to.”
And he refused to budge. Shaden sat down with a sigh.
“Want to tame a wyvern?” Shaden asked. Keyga slowly turned around.
“Tame a wyvern?”
“Yeah. There are plenty at the Wall.”
“The Wall. You know, I always wanted to go there.”
Shaden scratched his cheek.
Just why was he getting himself into these situations?