The light of the Spire of Kindling slowly faded, allowing darkness to take over the world once again. In the far edges of the world, creatures stepped out of their hiding places. Creatures of the night, the Corrupted.
Citizens of the Empire hid in their homes as darkness fully settled, covering the world like a cold, thick blanket. Despite that, Bhaile-Morn remained bright as if it tried to defy the Spire. Like it tried to become a second Kindling.
Ash felt sick as he looked down from the balcony. There was so much just wrong about this.The Kindling was sacred, it was the life-giving light of the gods of old. How could mere humans dare try and create a second Kindling?
Yet, when he looked back over his shoulder at the rather grand chambers he had been brought to, he couldn’t help but question his own beliefs. The raven-haired crown prince stood by a desk, looking over a map of the known world. Even when he seemed lost in thought, he radiated power and authority. His golden mana was almost bright enough to rival that of the Kindling. Could he call a person like him a ‘mere human’? Or was he something more?
His fingers caressed the pendant hanging from his neck. Absentmindedly, he toyed with its silver chain as he watched the city stretched below him.
“… to the Northern Gate. And make sure they are well armed. I do not want a repeat of last time.” The Prince’s voice barely reached his ears.
A woman clad in black clothes bowed once before hurrying out the door. The Prince’s other advisors and aides also slowly left as soon as he waved his hand once. Only a single person remained, a tall woman whose hair was hidden under a thin, black shawl. She was dressed modestly, wearing a simple black dress, and a golden bracelet.
“Ash.” The Prince spoke. “Come,”
Ash left the balcony and stepped back inside. The scent of the incense burner filled his nostrils, it was a relaxing scent, one that made him feel safe.
“This is Ira.” He pointed at the woman almost absentmindedly. “She’ll see if your mana pool was diluted by soul magic. Once you are done with her, my men will escort you back to your dorm.” He paused to look at him. His golden gaze seemingly peered into Ash’s soul. “I gave you power, Ash Morgan. And now I have saved your life.”
Ash felt a chill run down his spine. The room seemed to grow colder as the Prince’s gaze turned darker. He couldn’t avert his eyes.
“Our world is not as it seems. The Inquisitors and my Father work to keep the balance, but more must be done.” He raised his chin, not with pride, but with confidence. He smiled, bitterly. “I can protect you from the Oracle, from the burning light of the purging ritual. I can keep your soul pure, and your mind sane from the corruption of Soul Magic.”
The woman behind him, Ira, uncomfortably shifted her weight. She clenched her fists, hidden between the folds of her dress.
“But I ask your allegiance in return.” Prince Cedric stated. “You will serve me, when the time comes you will ride alongside me in battle.”
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Ash felt a weight settle in his chest. He wasn’t strong enough to fight. Perhaps he would never be. But that was irrelevant. He had almost died, again. Because he blindly believed in the Oracle, and in Inquisitor Victor. Because he didn’t think, he didn’t bother to question anything. Because he just believed, as if he hadn’t learned his lesson early enough in life.
He clenched his fists. He had been living in a tale since he arrived here, and this was his chance to finally wake up from this dream. Life hadn’t smiled on him, he wasn’t lucky or fortunate. The people around him weren’t suddenly good hearted and kind. He had no allies here, nobody to trust.
“I’m weak.” He stated with a somewhat clumsy bow. “If I am to ride with you into battle, your highness, I must grow stronger. To defend myself, and those around me. To fight to achieve your goals.” And he needed knowledge to keep himself safe from other threats. “You have my allegiance, my loyalty is yours. I only hope to be powerful enough to fulfil your orders when the time comes.”
The Prince’s lips curled up with a faint, yet satisfied smile. “You will grow strong. The Hawken girl, the young Lord Galor, the commoner prodigy, and the daughter of one of my most loyal men.” He shot a glance over his shoulder at Ira. “And you, an orphaned Twilit with unknown lineage. You will all play a role in what is to come, and I have decided on your role already.” he waved his hand once, “Ira, he’s all yours.”
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“How did he come to learn of this?!” The Oracle hissed. She couldn’t be farther from her usually calm and gentle demeanour. “That devil should have been on his way to the Northern Gate!” She paced the room, spitting the words as she brushed past Victor.
He had done nothing. Nothing to protect the child from her light. Because dark mana must be purged.
Those wide blue eyes refused to leave his mind’s eye. The betrayed expression he carried before he rushed behind the Crown Prince. The fear and confusion in his eyes.
Why didn’t he say anything? He wasn’t sure. He looked at his wife, who seemed more annoyed at the Oracle than the Prince. Alarien raised her eyes to meet his, then shook her head ever so slightly. Her lips curled down with what he could only call disappointment.
“How did he know, Victor?” The Oracle’s sharp words pulled him back to the present. He refocused his gaze on her.
“I informed his highness the Emperor, may he be blessed. Perhaps he told the Crown Prince.” He scowled. His audience with the Emperor, may he be blessed, had been incredibly short. He was clearly preoccupied with other matters. He didn’t seem to care enough about the survivor of the Apostle’s machinations to even listen to all Victor had to say. Why would he mention this to the Crown Prince, if he paid so little attention to it?
The Oracle clicked her tongue in anger. “Now there is a young mage, infected with soul magic. He will lose his self, madness will take over and it will spread throughout Bhaile-Morn like a wildfire.” She continued pacing the room as she spoke. “Once the city falls to its influence, it will affect the rest of humanity’s bastions. The Northern Gate will follow, and eventually even the remote villages.” She stopped in her tracks and turned her cold, wrathful gaze to Victor. “We must put a stop to this.” She declared.
“You don’t know if he is infected.” Alarien spoke. Her voice rang like a bell, clearing the clouds of doubt in Victor’s mind. “I saw the child, he was wounded, badly. But he spoke freely, of what happened and what the Apostle did. He told me what he remembered, and I sensed no evil within him.” Her gaze met the Oracle’s. “You don’t know what will become of him. Your gaze cannot see so far out. Moments, at best, you told me, old friend. Do not let fear best your brilliance.”
“Do not let your own arrogance blind your eyes to the obvious, Alarien.” The Oracle retorted. “Darkness has a foothold in our Tower. Remember what happened the last time this happened. We will put a stop to it before it causes yet another disaster.” With that, she turned around and left the room, letting the door slam behind her.
Victor felt relief when she left. He sighed and let his weight sink onto the couch. “I feel lost.” He whispered as Alarien approached him. “Where have I gone wrong?”
Her words cut like a blade to the heart.
“When you chose the Light over a life.”