ENDLE
Escalation
Chapter 1
“Embers of Memory”
There was light rain – a cold rain that caused a haunting chill as droplets slithered down warm young skin. The rain was alien to the young woman who stood at the edge of a grassy cliff overlooking a vast dark sea with a thick foggy veil atop its rolling waves. The sea foam gathered at the shore below with a sensational sound bellowing against the vertical wall of weathered stone and roots of ancient oak trees. Trees bent and swayed with the wind sailing across the rocky heights which then surrounded the woman. Long golden hair and a loose blue linen dress were lifted by the cool winds and pulled towards the sea as if to entice her over the edge and into its embrace.
She was a lovely woman with an exotic dark complexion and fierce emerald eyes. Below her eyes were six dark birthmarks, three under each eye of varying sizes. A sheer silken white veil of flowers and swirls covered her head to protect her from the spring showers, but it did little to restrain her locks as it was quickly blown from her crown. In a haste, she outstretched her hand to grasp it, but it was ripped from her reach. The veil whipped across the air and was pulled towards the sea to be lost within the thickening pale fog.
The rain now fell heavy onto her shoulders and bit at her skin which caused her to tremble and shrink into the loose cloth of her dress. She wrapped her arms around herself as she stood on the edge, waiting for a shift in the view – waiting for something to emerge from the thick fog – waiting for what felt like an eternity with each slow agonizing second. Time slowed until she could see each droplet of rain perfectly before her eyes. Fog crept up the mountain with arms snaking between the rocks. Faster it climbed and reached for her, engulfing her bare feet, and climbed higher up her legs. She swam in blinding fog as time stopped, then she could see no longer. Cold white turned to warm darkness.
Wake up…
Warm orange light filled her blurry eyesight. At first, it was blinding and straining, then relaxing and familiar when she began to come to. Her head had been resting atop the dark, hard wooden desk and it had pained her right cheek with an ache from the unforgiving surface. Various parchments and journals surrounded where she had been asleep with a singular glass cup shoved to the side. An ornamental bottle filled with a dark alcoholic liquid had been left open and emptied until only a few drops remained. The sight of it gave the woman an unwelcome reminder of how she had fallen asleep in her office hours prior.
A warm glow from a dying fire pit cast stretched somber shadows from the luxurious and intricately carved stone furniture that generously filled the room with a regal aura. The room was tall with a rounded ceiling that adorned elaborate murals that had long been scorched and faded. Pillars held the masses of stone and metal carvings on their broad rounded shoulders to wrap the room in a powerful architecture. Bookshelves as tall as the grand walls housed countless scripts with worn antique spines. Brass sculptures, curio cabinets filled with precious historical items, and faded maps framed in ancient wood adorned the room as well – including a broadsword above the mantle of a large basalt fireplace that was situated behind the desk.
As adequate of the finest enrichments as the room was, it was empty of life and soul. The crackling of dying embers was all to be heard in the cruel silence that engulfed such a regal space, so much so that even the embers gave no fight to stay alive with warmth. Naturally, there was a heat that choked the room and there was air thick with the smell of soot and incense, but there was no warmth of another to occupy the space. Time was lost within the walls of the royal office, as were many things the woman had come to treasure. This was how this room was - as it had always been.
The woman in her dreams had changed to become her own lone reflection in the gloss of her desk. Green emeralds were now fiery orange opals with a rugged complexion tanned and deep. Golden hair glowed and lifted weightlessly like careless newborn flames with an impressive length that would’ve surely lay upon the floor if gravity ruled it. The beauty had never left her but the life she once held surely did. Her eyes reflected such lack of life with a solemn glossy stare of disinterest.
Faint lines traced her features to narrate years of anger and sorrow at her brow and lips to form an everlasting frown. Under her eyes were dark circles, black lips scowling at such a horrid reflection that reminded her of what she had become. She reclined into her impressive brass regal chair and felt a pang in her skull that caused her to grasp the front of her forehead. Her body ached from such an unnatural position during her sleep, especially in her neck and shoulders. It felt like she had gained no rest at all, yet at the same time, it felt as if she has slept for years.
Her eyes fell to the bottle and felt no remorse for robbing it of its liquid relief. Slowly she reached for it with tired hands shamefully adorned in gold rings and ruby jewels. She curled her fingers around the neck and lifted it from its place before greedily pouring the rest into the empty glass stained with black lipstick along the rim. Dry and hollow, she laid the bottle to rest at the corner of her desk to indulge in her cup of respite that wafted the warm aroma of cinnamon and charcoal into her lungs.
Each sip offered its own painful comfort as it trickled down her throat to fill an empty burning stomach. In silence, she drank; in her loneliness, she drank; in her sorrow, she drank. A bright orange tear formed in the corners of her dark eyes that were smudged with charcoal before falling down her cheek with a hiss of heat. The tears died in evaporation before having the chance to fall from her face, all except one that had fallen into her glass. Her eyes stared aimlessly into the dark shadows, hating her own presence within them.
As comfortable as she could get in her seat, she closed her eyes once more. Memories played against the black void, memories that once were joyful and exciting. They became an instrument of her own torture so long ago and not an ounce of pain had been numbed. The dream washed over the memories, and she delved into every detail she could remember. The cold rain, the pale fog, the white veil – they were and had been a mystery ever since she could remember conjuring the dream.
The sound of moaning wood and clanking metal stirred her to open her eyes and come back to reality. The large wooden doors of the office had been opened and a tall figure stood in the gap of the curved doorway. The figure was of a tall feminine creature with gaunt features and long limbs. The creature was humanoid with two very long fleshy tendrils spanning the length of her body from the base of her skull. She had been dressed in an elaborate robe of black and gold that dragged the floor and represented her high status as the Advisor to the Queen.
She had no hair atop her head, only large flat layers of short fleshy fins that fell no longer than to her shoulders. Her flesh was as gray as ash with patches of black on her four-fingered hands and feet. Her large eyes were deep red with wide pupils, and she possessed no lips, only a strong jaw with protruding sharpened teeth. She was far taller than the queen and her voice was haunting; it sounded like a faint voice lost in a deep whisper from deep within her chest.
The creature was called an Altaone – a rare species in the world that Cariphae ruled. They were naturally wise and intelligent creatures who lived for more than a hundred years at a time. They made perfect servants to royal families and nobles in their realm due to their natural ability to teach and advise those who felt lost. They were also particularly skilled at recording history and organizing vast libraries – which many had done before in the past in Cariphae’s fortress. Regrettably, this Altaone was the last of her race. The harsh world of Arithmetia had seen hardships that Altaones simply could not endure, and thus, left her as the only living Altaone in the realms.
“Queen Cariphae, you haven’t been to your bedchamber all eventide,” the Advisor gently spoke out into the open office. The Queen tiredly rubbed her eyes and smudged the charcoal further into a mess while setting down her glass.
“How much time has left me, Agatha?” Cariphae asked in a rugged and strained voice. She had not yet had time to clear her voice free of the burden the night prior. Though she fought tears back, she could not hide the trembling in her voice.
“The Lahaeva Lake has risen to the full tide,” Agatha paused and fully stepped into the office to approach her queen gracefully, “it is one hour passing your normality.”
“I overslept.” Cariphae exhaled.
“There is still much time to dedicate to preparation, my Queen. I have arranged the rest of the celebration to relieve you of stress and rush. I assumed you would be sleeping in.” Agatha responded with a sudden pause when she saw Cariphae pick up the glass to drink from it. The action had made the Advisor half lid her eyes and close the distance between her and the desk. “It is the two-hundred-year anniversary of your reign, my Queen. With my sincerest respect, I ask – why do you not enthuse about such a monumental occasion? The people are surely restless.” She asked with a tilt of her head. She looked down at her queen who had crossed her legs and reclined further into her chair.
“How long have you come to know me as the Queen you see before you, Agatha?” Cariphae asked without giving a glance to her advisor and swirled her drink in her cup to release the aroma.
“Since I was a child. That was about seventy-seven years ago before I took my mother’s place.” Agatha replied with a bit of fondness to her tone.
“We are friends then I would say. Do you agree?” Cariphae now granted eye contact with her Advisor, expression unchanging.
Agatha smiled faintly and reached to touch her long fingers to the edge of the desk. If there had ever been a living creature to have known Cariphae better than any other, it was Agatha. Born in the safety of her Queen’s fortress and raised alongside her mother to be taught the ways of government and servitude, Agatha was the most knowledgeable of all royal staff who inhabited the fortress.
“Of course. Always.” Agatha put it simply.
“Then please, speak to me fondly as a friend, not a servant.” Cariphae requested, her voice now becoming warm and steady.
“I do sound a bit formal.” Agatha acknowledged.
“All the others see me as the crown…not this.” Cariphae motioned to her messy desk and then to herself shamefully.
“You are in distress,” Agatha paused to lift the ornate bottle from the desk, “what plagues my friend’s mind?” She observed Cariphae’s posture shifting into one of discomfort and hesitation. There was a brief moment where Cariphae could not answer – truthfully that is – until it became apparent that no amount of liquor could help her.
“The dream.” Cariphae replied tiredly, unable to lie to her friend.
“Ah, the one of the sea. I often wonder why it reoccurs so often for you,” Agatha placed the bottle back on the desk, “it’s worrisome.”
“It haunts me, Agatha. It drains me of energy as I scramble to decipher its meaning. I stand upon that ledge and wait, yet I don’t know what I’m waiting for. The rain chills my flesh and bone, but I feel no pain. It doesn’t douse me as it should. A hope fills me, but I feel my heart break every moment I spend trying to see past the fog. I always believe the dream will end differently but it never does,” Cariphae explained as she slowly stood to her feet. Her back felt an intense pop that was very audible “it just never does.”
“Perhaps Endle is trying to speak to you. This world is still full of magic.” Agatha suggested as she watched her Queen push in her seat and turn to the grand wide fireplace.
“Endle is scarred from what I’ve done. Why would it ever try to speak to me? It gives me the dream as punishment. I deserve it.” Cariphae tilted her head back to swallow the remaining liquid in her glass before throwing it to the fire. Ash and embers swirled up from the impact while charcoal shattered the glass. “Lifetimes and generations lost to war and violence. It is only fitting I’m haunted for the rest of my immortal life.”
“Or it has forgiven you. You have a purpose to fulfill as do we all and perhaps it did not end with the war. Your purpose may lie within this sea dream, or at best – lead you to it. Endle has many ways of shepherding us to our destiny.” Agatha delivered as she saw the struggle in her dear friend.
There was a moment of silence between the two that built tension in the hot air. Cariphae’s shoulders had risen with stress as if she were inhaling to scream or sob but instead fell, and she straightened her posture. She placed her hand onto the shelf of the fireplace and her head had turned upwards to gaze upon the dark broadsword with a chipped and scratched blade and worn hilt. Upon the blade was an inscription of a language long forgotten by her people – Naga-Tongue.
Naga-Tongue was primal in nature but ancient and sophisticated – once rivaling the popularity of English in the world thousands of years ago. Created by the ancient Naga race before their great extinction, Naga-Tongue specialized in the use of enchanting, spellcasting, and transformation. Cariphae was one of the few who still spoke the language and could read the inscriptions on the blade damaged.
‘Blood given shall lead to honor.’
It was a value Cariphae had learned to live by and found solace yet sadness in the writing. It always hung over her head and looked down on her when she hid away in her chair and drank. There was no more blood to be given that she could offer nor wish to offer – and therefore – no honor.
“It only swallows me into a state of confusion. Chaos even.” Cariphae broke the silence.
“Chaos can birth the most beautiful things, like lava and sea birth land to sow.” Agatha placed a hand upon her friend’s shoulder gently until she could feel the tension leave her.
“I feel it is more destructive than anything else. I’m becoming something I don’t recognize, Agatha.” Cariphae replied flatly.
“It created you, did it not? Here you are, still beautiful and ageless.” Agatha smiled slightly with hope in her optimistic compliment, but it did not seem to move her friend.
“It’s just a dream…” Cariphae lowered her voice. The statement had defeated Agatha and caused her eyes to fall to the ground. Faith was something Agatha learned early in her life but could never teach to her friend. “Have the nobles arrived?” She asked to quickly shift focus to the matters at hand.
“Yes, my Queen. Every house is here to witness,” Agatha spoke as she took a step back from her Queen, “and there has been no sign of Preasidion in our Kingdom. Perhaps he has lost track of time…he is busy above after all.”
“Good,” Cariphae stared at the embers dying in the pile of ash and charcoal “perhaps he will choose to be absent altogether for the celebration.”
Her slightly elevated black heels ticked the dark stone floors to cause a faint echo in the round room and encouraged Agatha to follow behind. On the way towards the door, Agatha had seen a hook against a wall holding a silken black robe that trained the floor. Grabbing it, she waited for Cariphae to outstretch her arms so she could gently drape the robe onto her queen’s shoulders to cover the simple black nightgown.
“Why do you hate him so?” Agatha asked. “He has done you much justice without asking for services in return. He is noble and cares for natives and Valaah alike; it’s admirable.”
“He is pretentious among other bitter traits. If ever there were a grand stage for both worlds to see, he would be cast in gold and relish in it. You know little of him, Agatha. It would be unwise to fall for his charm.” Cariphae gnarred.
“He is a bit pretentious, yes…” Agatha put her fingers to her lips to stifle a chuckle. Cariphae looked over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. She wasn’t smiling but she did look amused.
“You don’t agree with me for the sake of a good mood, do you?” She asked.
“Should I?” Agatha smirked and chuckled.
“I suppose I’m a bit too harsh, but I feel I must be. Ever since the last battle of the Red War, I’ve felt repelled. I feel that he hides more than he claims but I cannot rely on intuition alone,” Cariphae admitted with a very subtle squint of her right eye, “a healthy kingdom is not fueled by emotion.”
“He has always done what is best for you. Perhaps he withholds information from the surface world that would be useless to Arithmetia. There isn’t much he cannot handle on his own and I’m sure he wouldn’t pester you with minor news.” Agatha replied softly.
“I wish it so.” the Queen sighed.
“You do have a habit of holding onto grudges, Cariphae. Maybe it is time to look past them and give him a chance.”
“I have tried, but I still…cannot. Agatha, I–…” Cariphae cut herself off. Agatha went to speak but was waved off and understood Cariphae no longer wanted to remain on the subject.
Together they left and entered a grand hallway that stretched even taller than the office. Carved from solid dark stone by the ancient skilled craftsman of glory days, the hallways of the fortress glowed with orange beauty. Large stained-glass windows allowed light from outside flames and lava falls to pour in and cast their warmth onto the reflective tiled floors. Regal rugs long enough to line the hallways offered relief from intense heat radiating from the stone tile and matched antique paintings lining the grained walls. In contrast to the royal office, the hallways were serene and awe-inspiring with impressive chandeliers perfectly spaced and hung upon the ceiling.
There were no skies to be seen from the windows, only endless fires, monstrous volcanos, dark jagged mountains, and a lava lake that seemed to surround the entire fortress. From a mere glance, the fortress spanned eternally with winding corridors and glorious pointed towers all sculpted from solid stone and intricately forged metal. Rooms were bountiful and provided all varieties of necessities and luxuries. From libraries filled with ancient histories of the world to wonderful troves of battle-won trophies, the fortress proved to be a monument of wonder and glory ruled by only one of royal blood. The Queen of Lovelacia – Capitol of Arithmetia beneath the surface world of Endle - ruled all in the hellish landscape below the rest of the world above.
The exotic and bountiful race she ruled was called the Valaah. They were ungulate people with the bodies of men and the head of a plethora of ungulate animals often seen on the world’s surface. They had hooved feet and human hands and often stood well over seven feet tall. They were naturally brutish, strong, and hard-headed yet devoted followers. Once enslaved by their former masters and owners of the Arithmetian Fortress, they now lived free in the light of their most beloved queen.
Cariphae and Agatha crossed a large arched bridge over a lava fall and allowed the two to view the town below that had been nestled perfectly at the foot of the fortress – a town that was tightly compact with various structures and surrounded by odd black farmland with peculiar yellow crops swaying in shifting heated winds. The homes and shops were shaped much like the architecture of the fortress and were alight with the fires of elaborate torches and bonfires that climbed high into the blood-red skies. They had been there before Cariphae’s reign and many of the buildings proudly displayed her flag that flew strongly among the winds – a golden head of a great bull against a black void with gold trim shimmering in the fiery light. Crowds of citizens were visible by the torches they carried but were indistinguishable from a distance. The view was outstanding with a bright red open sky encasing it with the occasional bolt of lightning hidden behind thick clouds.
The crimson skies were not at peace and often cast intense branches of lightning across and through the thick clouds – many bolts which never struck the ground were oddly curved and seemed to twist and loop like a serpent. Distant rumbles of thunder from the bolts that did impact the rocky surface shook the stone foundations that had held strong and true for centuries. Many homes had metal spires to divert the common lightning strike to keep some semblance of peace. Blood-red leaves and ash were swept passed the Queen and her advisor and brought with them the sweet smell of the hellish flora that managed to flourish in this world. A smoldering flower caught itself in the queen’s majestic flowing hair with its eight tapered petals – prompting her to gently pull it from her locks to admire its beauty and release it back into the wind with the others. The wind carried the flower downwards against the lava falls and towards the town in swift tight spins and spirals.
The two continued inside towards the queen’s chambers where she was to be dressed and prepared for the grand event. Stripping herself of robe and gown, the queen bathed in lava that pooled up from the lake below the fortress from the pressure of the fortress’s weight. Her bare tan skin glowed from the smoldering liquid rock while her hair danced wildly like furious flames flowing upwards in whipping motions. Cupping both hands together, she lifted lava high above herself and let it flow down the curvature of her strong, muscular, dense, compact body decorated in deep war-given scars and varieties of black tattoos. The touch of intense heat revealed a multitude of these tattoos consisting of rigid parallel lines and sharp edges down her back and over her shoulders. One prominent tattoo graced her shoulder blades and lower neck in the shape of sharp and regal bull horns spanning from her scapula and curving downwards to meet her spine mere inches apart.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
With skin now cleansed and glowing with heat radiating like fresh burning coals, servants braided her lavishly long brilliant locks into elaborate braids and intertwined them with jewels, beads, threads, and regal ornaments representing the heads of her ungulate people. The roots of her hair were the brightest and pulsed like a slow heartbeat with a life of its own and appeared to shimmer white with heat. The hair of the queen was as prized as the color it shined – being recognizable from any dark distance and acting as a flame of hope in the eyes of her people. The two servants tightly pinned most of it atop her head and secured it with expensive pins so that she may move her head freely and expose the beauty of the dress they had prepared for her. The rest fell heavy with the weight of beads and gems intertwined in many smaller braids like rope trailing down her shoulders.
Her dress was long and glistening black with large round openings in the shoulders, chest, hips, and back to show her tattoos accordingly – it was seen as an honorable sign of beauty and strength in the Valaah culture to display both scars and tattoos alike. It covered her neck and arms tightly while thin golden chains hung from her curved waist and clipped at the side of her hip. They painted dark charcoal dust upon her face, traced her lips in pitch black, hung earrings and necklaces of gold, and carefully rested a sheer red shawl around her shoulders made of soft woven fibers like silk. Last they placed a polished black volcanic glass crown atop her head with a single, yet opulent blood-red jewel cut with six edges. Crafted from her people’s finest artisans two centuries prior - the day she earned her title and power – the crown radiated a brilliance no other gem of its color could ever reproduce – a bloodstone. In her strong stance, the crown elevated her beauty and aura of pure strength, power, and nobility that commanded all nearby to bow, for no other – usurper otherwise – could bare the weight of it.
“A beauty as radiant as a flame, my Queen.” Agatha bowed modestly after approaching. She held a small red box with a black ribbon in her hand and offered it to Cariphae who gently took it.
“What is this?” Cariphae asked while her hands untied the ribbon.
“A gift. I requested it be crafted for you. I know your passion for these treasures is as grand as their rarity. May it bring you happiness, my dearest, most beloved friend.” Agatha smiled and put a hand over her chest, recognizing her fondness for the woman before her who had removed the top of the box with care.
Opening the box, Cariphae’s eyes widened with astonishment. A singular orange smoldering rose-like flower with a bright fiery center and sparkling outer petals glowed inside the box. It shimmered with a veil of magic to give it a dazzling brilliance worthy of any queen. The rare Burning Bloom was a spectacle only seen in Arithmetia once every half-century – a flower most rare and native to the dangerous banks of magma rivers that would often swell and consume the flowers. They were fiery roses that bloomed for only a few short hours before catching fire and dropping a single seed to become reborn and continue the cycle like a phoenix.
“A Burning Bloom? Alive? Agatha, how is this possible? It’s wonderful.” Cariphae fawned over the magnificent bloom and held it delicately in her palm, tempted to stroke its petals with her fingertip to admire the warmth and softness. It was attached to a golden comb to sit tightly in one’s hair. It was by far her most beloved flower in all the land and a flower she never could sustain in her gardens no matter how hard she tried.
“Magic, my friend. Magic may be looked down upon these days, but I believe there is good to be had with it.” Agatha took the bloom from Cariphae’s palm and placed it atop her head beside the crown – securing it into the Queen’s braid before putting a palm to her friend’s cheek. With an endearing tone to her voice that was almost motherly, Agatha encouraged Cariphae. “Today itself is magical, and we all have you to thank for that. Be merry and stride forward. You’re ready.”
Cariphae’s frown lifted, and she turned to see herself in the large elaborate brass vanity mirror. For a moment she felt worthy of such beauty that the bloom offered beside her heavy crown. Her lifted expression never did form a smile, but it was far from the frown she always solemnly wore. The moment was cut short when she could hear the celebratory drums thunder outside and the voices of thousands cheer and roar in the courtyard which could’ve been mistaken for thunder. She straightened her posture once more and lifted her chin before leaving the living chambers towards the keep that overlooked the courtyard.
With grace, her majesty entered the Great Hall and climbed the blackened, strong solid stone staircase littered with aged cracks and gashes from ancient swords. The railing was nonetheless smooth to her palm and warm – molded from artfully crafted brass and stone and worn from use and age. With each step she took, the stronger she held herself and stifled her internal turmoil broiling like a volcano. The staircase was her own challenger, testing her might and strength to continue towards the balcony where so many awaited their beloved and bereaved queen who silently grieved in the shadows. There was no weakness that could be revealed, no hesitation or failure or remorse - there were only stairs to climb.
Louder the monstrous drums boomed outside, and the horns cried out in enormous harmony to where she could now feel the vibrations in her chest. She could hear the crowd growing ever louder and stronger to fill her with a rush of power and dignity. The higher she climbed, the higher she felt in soul and in sovereignty. The last step rewarded her with the sounds she had grown fond of - the sound of her people and their allegiance. Embers from the fiery trees and blazing torches whirled inside from between the heavy red curtains that shielded the balcony from the outside – beckoning her to make the entrance they awaited.
Her hand graced the edge of the large red curtain and pulled it aside just enough to see what view awaited her. She could no longer distinguish her own heartbeat from the drums even though she had heard them so many times in her long life. The fire within her burned brighter and hotter than any volcano could in the land and compelled her to grip the curtain with force. Her knuckles ignited with brilliant flames and sent forth the flames outward to engulf the curtains with sudden heat and light.
In a display of magic and an impressive blaze, the large curtains incinerated from the bottom up to burst into shimmering embers. The mighty queen raised her arms that caught fire and approached the balcony’s brass railing to hear the massive crowd of thousands below create an uproar that shook the very stone walls of the impenetrable Fortress of Lovelacia. Embers of white and yellow rained down upon her shoulders as she soaked up the spectacle while her royal crown caught fire brilliantly. Such a spectacle contained none that resembled her in appearance; This was a kingdom ruled not by man but by the Valaah. For the first time in what felt like ages, she felt happy and gifted to be in the presence of those who possessed nothing but love for her.
On each side sat five finely dressed Valaah both male and female for a total of ten nobles. Each one was head of their house and helped to secure Lovelacia’s borders. Each house owned its own flag representing a particular skill and trade. The houses were farming, forging, fine arts, construction, education, infrastructure, trading, magic, health, and currency. Though separated by vast distances, each house would often come to Lovelacia to assist in creating laws and advising Cariphae. They all bowed to Cariphae respectfully and gave her applause endearingly.
The entrance of the fortress was shaped much like a horseshoe with impressively tall walls and towers enveloping the stone bailey. The bailey itself was not large enough to hold the many citizens and soldiers of Arithmetia despite its generous open area. The massive metal and stone gates created a bottleneck for the crowd, which caused congestion in the entrance and the stomping of thousands of hooves in attempts to push themselves inside. Guards and archers walked the tops of the highest walls to keep a diligent eye on the citizens and any others who decided to attend the event, ensuring the Queen’s and her people’s safety. In the center of the bailey was a large, rounded, artistic platform of steel and stained stone – once a pedestal for a sculpture of a tyrant leader but now it only served as a pedestal for execution – thankfully unused for many decades in a great time of peace.
A gust of wind carrying a smoldering flower and ash washed over the crowd and through the gates. The very same flower that had found itself lodged in Cariphae’s hair now drifted over the heads of her people. Down the winding stairs and pathways that connected the fortress to the town it went; passing Ember Trees that thrived by lava streams and plenty of heat-loving flora until it reached the entrance of the town. Before it could pass through the entrance of the town – built from stacked stone and newly cut hardwood that would never burn – a hand of silver-gray skin reached high and plucked the smoldering flower from the wind. The heat of the flower was quickly smothered by ice forming around its petals as it touched the flesh of the hand that had so swiftly stolen it from the air.
Gentle was the hand that cradled it as a hooded man admired it and rubbed his thumb over the soft delicate petals until they froze solid. Valaah brushed by him as he brought the flower beneath his cloak, storing it within an inner coat pocket. Though the cloak hid most of his features, it was clear that he wore dark embellished clothing of black and white with silver trim and silver chains. Long black hair fell to his shoulders in a blunt cut with some locks wrapped in silver thread and beads. His eyes were covered but his lips could be shown forming a gentle smile of white sharp canines.
He had well-trimmed black facial hair in a goatee, and it crept up his jawline to vanish under the shadow of his hood. The cloak hid much of his dapper appearance and his shorter height allowed him to flow within the traveling crowd without notice of the bull-headed soldiers standing watch. Despite the unbearable heat that radiated from beneath the stone bridge that snaked up a rocky slope to the fortress, footprints of frost were left behind him only to be quickly evaporated. He kept his head low as he traversed the stone path to the impressive and impenetrable fortress among the commoners – careful to not be trampled by the near-stampede of Valaah.
The crowd could now see their beloved queen and lifted their fists in an excited uproar. Cariphae raised a calm hand to her people to acknowledge her beloved Valaah and waited for the drums to come to a halt. When they did, she closed her gentle hand into a hard fist, nearly immediately achieving silence from her people. When the silence fell, they all fell to one knee and bowed while placing their right arms over their chests. The sound of them all simultaneously doing so was like a singular drum beat that was sure to impress all guests who witnessed such discipline and endearment.
The silence prompted the nobles to kneel, awaiting Cariphae’s voice.
“Citizens of Arithmetia and nobles alike, I welcome you to Lovelacia. May you be guarded and cherished within its walls!” She began with a voice strong and booming compared to the calming voice she had used to address her advisor. Her voice was strengthened by war and power over the course of her two-century-long reign. One could say it was forged like a steel bell deep within her tenacious chest. With the force of a thousand voices that all could hear, her voice was still smooth and feminine - that aspect, she never lost. It was a voice one could look to in a time of despair and feel encouraged to fight on.
“Today at the highest tide of the fiery Lehaeva Lake, I announce the two-hundred-year anniversary of my coronation. It was on this monumental day that you as a proud people bestowed upon me the highest honor; servitude of the mighty Valaah and your home world that you welcomed me so humbly into. It was on this day that the wicked Ensanguined tyrants – bloodthirsty beasts of the shadows - were smitten down by our merciless hand to liberate us and grant us freedom from endless slavery. No longer were the Valaah a mere source of sustenance for beastly Ensanguined, they were a brutal force to be reckoned with when the drums of glorious war shook these very stone walls! Together we set fire to these halls and burned all who suppressed us until the Ensanguined fled the lands to the surface!” Cariphae delivered powerfully while she lifted a strong fist to her people to raise their cheers and stomp their hooves – to which they did so in an impressive uproar.
“We fought the great Red War and spilled wicked blood on the grasslands of Endle! We made mountains fall to their knees! We sacrificed everything with no fear in our hearts and overcame all those who dared oppress us!” Cariphae shouted.
The crowd thundered louder.
“Our blades acted as one and our shields locked together to become an unstoppable force worthy of bringing down the skies themselves! We held the fate of Endle in our hands as we won an unwinnable war!” She raised her fist higher into the air.
The crowd was deafening!
“Despite our victory… we left Endle in peace.” Cariphae lowered her fist, and the crowd in turn lowered their clamor. “Enough blood had been spilled; We took only what was ever desired by our proud people - freedom. We vowed to never return to Endle unless the wicked resurfaced, only then would we march into the sunlight once more to liberate those who cannot liberate themselves. That is a vow I have upheld to this day and in doing so have brought onto Valaah two centuries of peace and honor. We thrive in harmony with the lands of Arithmetia, yet we have never lost our might. Through many generations, I have watched all here flourish, and many more I will watch blossom into mighty warriors. May I be granted the honor of serving the Valaah for another prosperous two-hundred years.” She bowed her head to her people, and they to her.
Her people continued their adoring cheers and loud admiration while she felt a wave of calmness wash over her. She bathed in their love and support while her spirit absorbed the honor and became humbled further. A spark of joy overcame her, and her chest lowered in an exhale. She loved the people and she loved her servitude to them; She loved their freedom and she loved that they lived a life she would never obtain for herself for if she could never have it – then her people would. One of simplicity, security, and liberation.
Her arms became outstretched and in return, her people reached out to her. Though she was high above them, they still reached towards her as if to catch a flame from her aura. The drums picked up like a tenacious heartbeat that matched the beating of Cariphae’s heart. Suddenly through the midst of clamor and beating, there was a blinding light of pure power that crashed down from above and struck the steel and stone platform in the center of the bailey. It was a monstrous and intense lightning bolt that caused the people to quickly withdraw and scream when the thunder followed and rocked the very ground they stood upon.
The heat from the lightning turned the steel a bright red and sent plumes of smoke upwards. When the blinding light had vanished as quickly as it appeared, it left behind a bold man knelt to one knee. His skin was dark and tanned, his hair was thick and brown, and his armor was elaborately chiseled copper with a plethora of dents, cuts, and scratches from wear. A thick shimmering blade with a hilt of leather-wrapped steel and a lion’s claw pommel was strapped to his back atop a faded teal cape. His hands wore armored gloves with sharp lion’s teeth extending from his knuckles and his chest wore the symbol of the sun etched with gold. Atop his teal cape was the darkened mane of a lion to give him a silhouette of such a mighty beast.
His head lifted slowly to face the queen and view her with piercing white eyes that emitted a pale smoke as if they smoldered. His features were handsome and strong with a trimmed beard and a symbol etched into his flesh below his left eye that looked to be the waving rays of the sun. He stood to his feet in a tall stature and strong stance as his cape flowed with the gentle heated breeze. Majestic and noble, he offered the queen a humble bow of his head. The citizens around him murmured among each other as they recognized this man’s markings and nobility – slowly growing in loudness.
The queen had felt her deep frown return as she peered down and saw the man among her people. The shock she felt from his sudden appearance was not one of glee but of dread. The nobles had stood from their seats as they wished to get a fuller view of the legend that stood in the center of Cariphae’s bailey. Even they were murmuring to each other in amazement and wonder while the queen’s face slowly softened out of force with a lifted eyebrow. This man was the immortal of their world – the defender of all native life. A god among men.
“Preasidion of Endle – Guardian of Humanity – your presence was not requested,” Cariphae spoke from her balcony.
“It was unbeknownst to me that my fair queen would celebrate her two-hundred-year reign without a blessing from her most trusted ally!” Guardian smiled as he stood from his bow and placed his right hand over his chest in her honor. His voice was of two different tones - one of higher and softer pitch, the other deep and rugged and sounded as if magic had sewn the two together in a mesmerizing woven string of a lute. Webs of electricity flowed from his fingertips up his arm to his shoulder when he had placed his hand over the metal of his armor.
A sickening feeling leveled itself into the pit of Cariphae’s core from his words. She had not given him an invitation but somehow knew Praesidion – most commonly known as Guardian – would have found his way deep down below to interrupt her celebration. For as long as she remembered her beginnings in this hellish world, she remembered Guardian and his presence in all the land he graced himself in – the power that radiated from this one singular god-like being could be felt from miles away like it had statically charged the air. His history was as rich and deep-rooted into the very essence of Endle as Cariphae’s influence was over Arithmetia if not deeper. Cariphae strongly believed that no amount of power should all belong to one person, so an allegiance had been forged between the two immortals shortly before the Red War.
The Guardian was a man with no true name but held titles of honor, power, and influence in every kingdom he had ever been in. He was a man who was as old as Endle itself and fought against invading forces, demons, giants, and more to protect the lives of the native human people who lived within Endle. He was a legend and written in history as the most notorious, bravest, mightiest of all warriors to have graced existence. He brought extinction upon powerful races and creatures until all that remained were rubble and thunder with his powers of wrath and indestructibility. He was the most powerful ally to Cariphae and widely respected among her people as a fellow warrior much like their queen.
Her frown remained but she approached the railing of the balcony nonetheless to speak more directly to the demigod below.
“It is not I that needs a blessing from a fellow champion of war, Guardian. To remove you from your service to Endle for an extraneous blessing would be otherwise selfish and arrogant of me.” Cariphae shot back as she placed her hands on the balcony. Those words sat bitterly on her tongue, but they were words her people found sweet.
A grin swept over Guardian’s lips as he outstretched his hand to her as if he desired to take her hand in his.
“My lady queen, my blessing and honor to be paid to you is a service to Endle, for my allegiance to you runs deeper than mere military power and political influence. I am here for more than just a simple blessing, your majesty.” He responded with a lighthearted buoyancy to his tone.
“Do speak, Guardian, as you have the attention of not only myself but all my people.” She had motioned to her nobles out of respect. Inside she wretched, inside she feared what he was meaning to say. There had always been a deep discomfort she held towards Guardian as if her instinct was to be repulsed by his personal affection – especially after the Red War. Despite her feelings, she knew well that Guardian deserved to be heard as his services to their alliance had been proven sound and steady. In the least, her people demanded it.
Guardian had served in a time of great need when Cariphae faced an unwinnable war. The Red War raged lands in Endle, many lives had been lost and beasts that preyed on the innocent flew freely and killed with malice. The Valaah – her most beloved of all people – suffered the most during those terrible times with many losses, familial separations, and slavery. Guardian had reached out to a weak queen and lifted her to her feet to win a war against all odds. Without him, Cariphae – along with her people – would be in chains, a fate worse than death.
Even with Cariphae’s and Guardian’s rich and epic history of war and honor together, Cariphae lived with a deep sinking feeling in the pit of her chest that furiously clawed at her tired mind with any interaction they shared – albeit rare. Night after night as she thought of him, searing damning questions swam in her skull endlessly to rob her of rest. His eyes reminded her not of stars but embers of something that was once beautiful but no longer present. His tone though warm felt cold and empty as if something were missing from wherever his voice came from. It was haunting as though walking into a room one had not visited in years to see long-lost paintings; unable to remember something that had been hidden behind dust.
Cariphae always had this feeling towards the man who saved her and her people and had never been able to understand why. With all of his past mistakes aside, Guardian did as she asked without question for decades. The guilt that weighed heavy on her shoulders was exhausting and frustrating, so she ignored it as best as possible. As a noble queen and honorable individual, she always granted Guardian his right to speak freely within her kingdom and heeded his advice when given. He had not led her astray thus far. Perhaps it was her own loneliness that led her to believe he was one of the few to have cared enough for her to speak openly and honestly.
What is an immortal to do than to take comfort in another who also lived an eternity with no rest?
“My Queen, my Cariphae,” Guardian spoke out to her, “for two centuries have I watched you blossom like the fiery Burning Blooms of Arithmetia like the one atop your crown, and admired your grace and beauty from afar. Your strength is something I have only seen in the eye of storms. Your leadership compares to the certainty of ocean tides – unchallenged and phenomenal. Your beauty is unrivaled to anything I have ever witnessed in our world in my immortal years since the birth of the first star,” he began with a swarm of tributes and admiration, drawing in the open ears of the common folk who listened intently to his words. As many were impressed and found the beginning to be endearing, the queen found herself stepping back from the balcony in clear discomfort.
“for two hundred years I have felt a flame in my heart that I have longed to release and add to your eternal fire. I have desired to hold you in my arms as your betrothed, not just your hand as an ally. I have longed to give you the gift of an heir to your throne so that Arithmetia can grow even larger and far more magnificent than what it is now. I wish to combine our worlds through an eternal union between us. Let your people come freely to Endle and let my people discover the beauty of Arithmetia! Cariphae, will you be my Queen and I as your King?” He proposed and had caused a great and abrupt clamor among the people. Gasps and yells simultaneously broke out of the silence and the crowd had begun to visibly move about with excitement and shock.
Cariphae took a stunned step backward with an expression that reflected the pain equal to an arrow through the chest. It was a look only seen when one awoke from a nightmare which Guardian could read very clearly. His own expression was one of confusion and offense – having expected to see a smile upon the Queen’s face – but was instead given a look that would otherwise be defined as horror and drowned in the clamor of the dense crowd. The sound however didn’t exist to her in the first moment when the shock melted and warped into anger. With hundreds of eyes on her and her entire kingdom beckoning for her to answer, pressure thickened, and her throat tightened from the stranglehold of inner conflict.
To become the betrothed of the Preasidion – a practical god - was an honor no human above on the surface had ever attained. Though many offered their daughters, none were deemed worthy to wed a demigod regardless of their beauty and youth. A union ultimately meant more within royal bloodlines than the idea of love, for love could not combine two realms alone. A union between the two would begin a new era – an era in which humanity and Valaah would become one and forever change how one traverses the realms. Sunlight would no longer be foreign to her people and fire would no longer be destructive to humans and the current year of 9,505IV would enter into 0001V – the fifth era.
Nevertheless, Cariphae felt differently in the presence of this choice. It was repelling and uncertain, shredding, and painful. The conflict drew out anger and confusion within the queen who once was so certain in every choice she made. She felt like a flimsy roof rather than the solid stone pillars that supported all she had ever built, struggling to fight off the turbulence. She had to make a choice - silence was not an answer to be given. A flame swayed wherever the wind demanded but Cariphae had always fought against it – and fight it she would.
Guardian grew tense as well and felt impatience rising within himself. He grimaced when she didn’t answer him right away or even within the first agonizing minute of silence. She however felt like hours had drawn by and still it would not have been enough time to process the two plausible answers – as there wasn’t one better than the other. His eyes grew in intensity and the smoke with it as well, and his stance shifted from one foot to the other before stepping off the pedestal of the crowd. The crowd parted to let the demigod approach closer to the balcony – footsteps beating against stone and armor ringing with his sway.
“Well? What say you, Queen Cariphae?!” He thundered with his dual-tone voice that demanded attention.
In response to his bellowing, Cariphae raised her hand into the air as she did before. Eyes followed her hand and voices were silenced when the hand formed a fist once again, albeit slower this time. Now only wind and shifting hooves against stone echoed within the walls of the fortress. In the peak of silence, her voice cut through like a blade for all to hear, and her voice spoke only one word.
“No.” Was the word powerful enough to cause a wave of violence to burst from her people. A crowd that once was at rest and full of adoration was now erupting into a riot and leaving the demigod in silence – staring into the eyes of the woman who stared back with coldness in her gaze. Only one in the crowd watched as calmly as Guardian did and vanished into the crowd with his cloak in tow.
----------------------------------------
Author's Note:
I'm so very thankful you took the time to read through my first chapter! It it twice as long as the rest I have written but necessary as I couldn't find a decent part to pause. I love any and all criticism and help as this is my first ever novel I've written. I'm not experienced and I'm still learning how to write fluently, so I appreciate your patience. Any knowledge gained from this will help me edit my future chapters, and I'm forever grateful for the knowledge! I want to give you the best story I can. Thank you and have a wonderful day!