Meera saw Narikas deflate and stare off into the distance as he clenched his fists, making her wonder if he was in pain again. Narikas was quiet for so long that Meera didn't think he would ever talk.

"Come on, I found you, your queen. You at least owe me this much," Meera said, breaking the silence.

Narikas snapped his head to her. "You did? Where?" He sat up straight. "Meera, where is she?"

"First, you answer my question, and the queen is…not going anywhere, or more like can't go anywhere," she said.

"But Meera, that is—"

Meera raised a hand to stop him. "A few more minutes is not going to make a difference, and besides, even if I tell you, you cannot go get here right this instant."

Narikas sighed as he shook his head. "It's a long story. You best settle in."

Meera made a show of looking around as there were no chairs in the room besides his, but Narikas completely missed that, or so she thought. He flicked a finger, and another impressive-looking chair popped up beside his throne. Meera promptly took a seat.

"This is a tale of victory and defeat," Narikas said, staring off into the distance. "Did I tell you that my grandfather tied with Draros?"

"Yes, and that is where you met him, right? Some tower?"

He nodded. "But how he tied with him is how we cursed ourselves. We were losing the war with King Draros. My brother is much like our grandfather. Anyways, in order to secure victory against Draros, he was willing to do anything, sacrifice anything, and so he did. He went to this evil being." He motioned to his armor. "The spirit that resides in this armor was trapped in a cave, and they made a pact that as long as one from the Manidion family…my family wears this armor, our line…my grandfather's line will endure, as will the kingdom. You know, the best part, he didn't wear the armor himself. He had his brother wear it. Damantes, the first Shadowsteel Warlord, built the foundations of this place. When it came time for my father to take the throne, which was a decade after the war with Draros, this armor was passed on to my uncle, who carried this burden for twenty years. For twenty years, he weathered the attacks, the maddening pain, all because Rokibor and I were too young."

"What about his own children? Couldn't they have taken the armor from him?" Meera asked.

"He didn't have any. He didn't even marry. I always wondered why until this armor came to me." He was quiet for a long moment as tears lined his eyes.

“Narikas?” Meera prodded.

He blinked away the tears. "He didn't want the armor to go to his children. Only someone who has put this armor on can understand the pain…the constant pain. It started as something minor, and I could disregard it, but the armor didn't take long to show its true colors. It won't even let me be intimate with a woman. It's wicked this thing. It gave me false hope and let me get closer, and when the moment was the sweetest, it would strike. Every time I've tried, it became a torture session that left me a drooling mess on the floor."

Meera had seen him in that condition. "So, all this time, you've never…"

He shook his head. "It's been so long that I've even forgotten the touch of a woman. But that's not even the worst part. You remember what I did to Perilla."

How can I forget? The way the poor girl screamed and fought to free herself from his grip had all but confirmed the stories she had heard about him being a monster.

"I hear her still." He motioned to the armor. "She's right here in this swirling mess of faces. One of them is hers. Her soul is trapped here forever, unable to move on, unable to go to the Halls of Judgement and receive the Decree of Lorendor. They're all here. All of them, ever since Damantes put on the armor and started feeding it souls."

"But why?"

"That is the payment the spirit in the armor demanded when it assured my grandfather victory. One soul must be fed to it every week, or it will feed on its host. With each soul, the armor's influence grows."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"So, you lose one way or another. This is the cause of your pain," Meera said.

"Hence, the pain. But that is not all. When the armor is quiet, the trapped souls scream in my mind, like right now. I get no respite. There is no peace for me. It's punishment for all my sins. Every moment is a battle of wills, and little by little, the armor is winning. My uncle fended off the attacks for two decades, but I've only had it for ten years, and already my time has come."

"And what happens if the armor wins?" Meera feared the answer, but she knew where this was headed.

"Then the armor takes me over and is free to unleash its fury on the worlds. So, I must do evil to stop this evil from unleashing onto the world."

"And if you die? Not a threat, just wondering," she quickly added.

"The result is the same. The armor will take over my dead body and do what it pleases. Right now, it is bound by its oath. Bound to protect the king and kingdom of Azeria, no matter what. This is why my brother is so confident that we will win. I am not so…not when I can barely talk to anyone without …" Tears found home in his eyes. He tried blinking them away, but still, one dripped out.

Meera reached for his hand to comfort him, but he shirked away.

"I'm sorry, but the armor has been quiet since this morning. That audience with the king was its only outburst. It's always quiet on…feeding days."

Meera gasped. He had taken another soul. She didn't know whether to feel bad for him or be mad. "But you said once a week...and you ate-took Perilla's soul four days ago."

Narikas didn't meet her eyes. "My time has come. I cannot stand the pain any longer. I hardly sleep. That is the only way I get some respite from the pain. Sometimes, I wish to kill myself, but I cannot even do that. My existence has become pain. Just pain, pain, and more fucking pain." Tears dripped from his eyes. “I want to die, Meera. I want to give this thing away, so for the first time in a decade, I don't have a voice punishing me. But I cannot. I must suffer like this. I'm beginning to doubt that even in death, I will get any rest."

"Can't you take it off? Rip it apart or throw it in the furnace?"

Narikas snorted. "If only it were that simple. No, I can only take it off when I pass this on to the next person, who my brother has declared to be Crown Prince Delkoris."

"That's why you didn't want me to find him. But why?"

Narikas was quiet and stared at the closed door with hate as if it were its fault. Then he flinched, and a scream escaped its throat. Meera jerked up out of her seat. He gripped the armrest so tight his fingers had turned white. He clenched his teeth and groaned, which turned into another scream.

Meera didn't know what to do. She had no skill that could lessen his pain. She thought to call Hilnoa with the royal seal, but Narikas relaxed immediately and exhaled.

"Narikas, are you okay?" It was stupid to ask, but she couldn't think of anything else.

"I'll live. I just had a slight disagreement with…" He motioned to his armor with his hand.

"About what?"

"About the past." He shook his head. "It was regarding your question. You asked why I don't want to pass it on to Delkoris if I'm in so much pain. Because the same thing is happening to Delkoris that happened to me. I am the older twin. I was the Crown Prince, not Rokibor. The throne was meant for me, and this armor for him."

"But why is he king then?" Meera asked.

Narikas looked away and didn't answer.

"Because of my lovely sister's manipulations," said Hilnoa, stepping out of the shadows with her book in her hand.

Meera was shaken, but she thought she hid it well. "How long have you been here?"

"Ever since my other nephew stepped in here," the Scribe replied.

Many things fell into place as to why Narikas asked Meera to save her first. Why the woman protected him so much. She was Narikas's aunt.

“She did no wrong,” Narikas said.

"She snatched your birthright from you and gave it to a cruel pig," Hilnoa shot back. "You've never seen fault in her because the only time she truly loved you was when you saved her favored son from this cruel fate."

Narikas turned his head away, and tears streamed down his face.

Hilnoa, too, had tears in her eyes but also rage. "She couldn't bear the sight of her precious Rokibor in pain, so she cursed the rightful heir. She cursed someone who would have been a good king, a just king, to live in agony all his waking hours. Narikas loved her to death, and she knew he wouldn't refuse her anything, and she used that love to bind him and this kingdom in eternal torment. Now, history is about to repeat itself, as Delkoris would be another good king, and Rokibor the mad wants to curse these lands once again by installing Heibor as the future king. Heibor is his father's shadow. Both driven mad with lust and power."

The Scribe came to stand beside his nephew and moved a loving hand through his hair. "I would take this pain from you if I could, but…"

Narikas gripped her hand. "It's okay. It's all in the past, and you taught me we shouldn't speak bad of the dead."

"My sister doesn't fall under that category."

"Still, we cannot change the past. I don't wish to be king or even this Warlord. I only dream of a day that I can be free of this armor and…die in peace as myself."

It took everything Meera had not to cry.

"But before that, I need to stop this upcoming war," he said. "Now, Meera, your turn. Where is Queen Nisaya?"

"In the forest of Pegonia outside the city of Nelees," Meera replied. "She's being held captive by a—if you can believe it—a heart that can control the dead."

Hilnoa inhaled sharply, and her eyes widened. "The Heart of Doromar."

Meera frowned. "Yes. How did you know?"

"If the Heart has risen, then this war should be the least of our concerns."