“Daith and I can see the colour of people’s mana, we can vaguely see what they are doing, so we can guess whether their spells are offensive or defensive. But seeing individual threads of mana is…” Princess Aoife’s voice faded as she breathed a sigh. “I don’t want to say it’s unheard of, but it’s certainly incredibly rare.”
Prince Daith’s lips formed a thin line. He scowled as his gaze turned to the pheasants, though it seemed as if he wasn’t really seeing their soon-to-be food. He was lost in thought, lost in worries Ash couldn’t really guess.
“You travelled with another girl from Serna, right?” The princess asked. “And she was a noble, I noticed how she kicked up a ruckus.”
Ash nodded. “She’s the youngest daughter of Baron Lo’Harkon.” The princess raised an eyebrow, as if she didn’t recognise the name. “He owns Serna, and the surrounding fields.” Ash clarified.
“I see. Noble houses, even the small ones tend to have at least one magic user they keep close. They have their children learn from them.” The Princess fiddled with her long, raven black hair as she explained. “The more a child is around magic and mana from a young age, the more sensitive to it they become.”
Daith clicked his tongue, and moved the pheasants higher, further away from the magical flame. “Remember that bloodline is very important as well.”
Princess Aoife nodded. “That’s true. Mages try and keep their bloodlines pure and powerful.” Her lips curled down. “Did you spend a lot of time with the Lo’Harkons’ court mage when you were little? Your sight – and sensitivity to mana – has to have come from somewhere unless you are hiding your bloodline.”
Ash couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. “No,” he said with a faint smile. “My father is a farmer, and my mother died giving birth to me. She was a commoner as well, or so I was told.” His smile vanished as he remembered his stepmother. “I don’t think there ever was a court mage in Serna. I was told the Serenpetal fields made it very difficult for them to be in the area…” His father had whined about it for years – how easier it would be to care for the fields of delicate flowers with the aid of a mage.
Daith’s ears perked up, and Princess Aoife raised her eyebrows. “Serenpetal fields?” Daith asked before his sister could get a word in. “There are Serenpetal fields in Serna?!”
“Did you spend any time near them?” Princess Aoife asked wide eyed. Ash chuckled softly. “I grew up in them, my family owns – well, rents – the land from Baron Lo’Harkon and-“
“Stop, just stop.” Daith cried out. “You spent your time in or around Serenpetal fields. The very flowers that are teeming with wildmagic. Since you were a child.” He pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “That answers practically all of our questions…”
The conversation soon took a different turn, rather inorganically as the royal siblings suddenly seemed unwilling to speak about this anymore. By now, the pheasants Daith was holding above the flame were cooked enough to eat. Despite the lack of seasoning, they were delicious. They ate until they were full and stored the small bits of remaining meat in a clean piece of cloth for breakfast.
The royal siblings then left the dilapidated house for a walk while Ash felt too exhausted to even stand up. He covered himself with his cloak and laid down on the dust-covered floorboards. His gaze lingered on the dancing flames as his mind drifted off back towards home.
----------------------------------------
Aoife smacked a bug away from her face, then with a wave of her hand released a dim golden wave of her mana. The wave pushed the leaves and branches away, creating a passage for her and Daith. Her somewhat fast paced steps carried her around the dilapidated building, over the broken fence, to a well on the other side of this abandoned village.
“What do you think?” Her brother asked as she approached the well. Aoife breathed a sigh, then sat on the ground and leaned her back against the round, stone well. It had no bucket to draw water with – not that she needed one – and probably no water left within either. Had she come here for a drink, the latter would have been an issue.
“Aoife.” Daith insisted. “The guy can see threads of mana. You can’t have not been thinking about it.”
She bit her lips. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m not sure what to think.” She admitted. This all made so little sense – fields of Serenpetals was a concept she could hardly picture in her mind. And the amount of wildmagic gathering in those fields would be lethal to anyone with even a sliver of mana sensitivity. She pressed her fingers against her forehead as she let out another, long sigh.
“Fine,” Daith folded his arms. “I’ll tell you what I think then. I think our brother will be very interested in all this – if he were to find out.”
Aoife’s eyes shot wide open as she raised her gaze to meet Daith’s. Was that a threat..?
“So I think you need to do something about this. Disappearing bodies, someone who gained enormous mana sensitivity from Serenpetal fields, corrupted beasts chasing us for two days before they attacked…” His lips curled down with worry. “Something’s up, Aoife.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
She clicked her tongue. “Don’t speak of Ash to anyone.” She stretched her hand, and Daith quickly helped her back on her feet. “As for the bodies, I’ll make sure enough troops are dispatched to search for them safely.”
“And the corrupted?” Daith asked. Aoife groaned. “I mean, they’re mostly dead?” She shrugged. “I don’t know what else to do about that.”
“I want you to consider the why!” Daith cried out. “Aoife, why is all this happening? How did the corrupted even come so far? The corruption is so far away, days of travel northward from Bhaile-Morn. Something must have led them here – to us.” He scowled. “To you.”
His words cut like a blade into her heart.
----------------------------------------
Come morning, they continued their journey towards Bhaile-Morn, the fabled capital of the Empire of Parth-Ilathar, home to the High Tower, and the Palace of Ages.
Both royal siblings seemed rather agitated since they returned from their short-lived walk last night. Especially Princess Aoife wore a scowl and frown and was very short with both of them the few times they tried to ask her something.
Daith, while also somewhat uneasy, assured Ash that they were just worried about their other sibling. Nothing had happened last night during their walk as he first worried. “I was wondering though,” The young prince asked in an attempt to distract them from the rather gloomy atmosphere. “Why did these villagers never object to this castle being built?”
He pointed at the castle built on a distant hill. It’s shadow was wide, and covered the entirety of the abandoned village, as well as a portion of the forest around it. The fields were long since overgrown, it was impossible to say where they used to be.
“They did, as far as I know.” Ash shrugged. “Not that it did any good, they didn’t even slow the construction down.”
“In that case, the villagers were warned a year in advance.” Princess Aoife chimed in with a cold voice. “The Imperial Regulations give one year to people whose homes would remain in the shadow of any construction. That is non-negotiable and all affected people are directly contacted by the builder – the owner of that castle, in this case.” She glanced at the castle with a distasteful look.
Ash looked away as her words served as a stark reminder of who he was travelling with. The eldest daughter and youngest son of the Emperor. Two royals. Two people who couldn’t care less about the fate of the commonfolk. They lived in a different world, after all.
“Have you seen the crest on the flags, Ash?” Daith asked after a few moments of silence. Ash shook his head. “I haven’t, it’s too far away.”
The prince clicked his tongue. “That’s a shame…” He glanced towards the castle. It’s menacing walls were clearly visible from the road. “Aoife, let’s drop by there – we can take horses to make the journey shorter.”
The princess hesitated. “Sure…” She muttered as her gaze lingered northward. “We might even be able to catch up with the others.” Ash heard a hint of hope in her voice. She was worried for those who survived, and rightly so.
A thought occurred to Ash – one he knew to keep to himself. Yes, they could catch up with the survivors if they had horses, unless they had been taken by whoever took the bodies. Ash shook his head in an attempt to get rid of that thought.
After about a full day’s worth of walking, the stone paved road split into two, a narrower path leading up the hills, towards the now not so distant anymore castle, and a wide road leading to Bhaile-Morn. If they kept walking at this pace, the royal siblings claimed that arriving at the capital city would take them about four days. With horses, that was only little more than a day, since they could just revitalise the animals with their magic, or so Daith had explained to him.
Without much hesitation, the princess led them along the narrow path. As the light of the Spire began to slowly dim, the group hastened their steps. Neither of them wanted to be out and about without shelter in the darkness of night. Especially not after the previous attack they barely survived.
By the time they reached the foot of the hill the castle was built upon, the Spire had almost no light left. In the darkness, the castle walls reaching high seemed menacing, and the open gates reminded Ash of the jaws of a wolf.
He narrowed his eyes as his gaze lingered on the castle, and the crimson and dark blue colours it glowed with. It was difficult to tell when they were far away, but now that they were almost at its gates, he could see it quite clearly. Every block of stone forming this intimidating castle wall, every slab visible in the courtyard beyond the gate glowed with mana.
The colours hurt his eyes. He averted his gaze and massaged his temples. Looking at the Serenpetal fields was difficult enough, and the mana there was probably not even quarter of the mana in and around this castle.
A group of soldiers rushed out the gates as they arrived. Their leather armours were decorated with silver linings, and their black cloaks were embroidered with a crest – a sleeping lion. Their weapons were drawn and some of them were surrounded by auras with different colours – their mana was ready to be used.
Their leader, a middle aged woman with a crimson cloak stepped forward. “Halt!” Her voice echoed across the quiet hills. Her greying hair was braided loosely. Her mana swirled around her in dark blue colour, much like the castle itself. “Name yourselves and state your intention!” She barked.
Princess Aoife rolled her eyes as she reached into her cloak’s inner pocket and threw a small object at the woman. Ash caught the silver glint of it as the woman caught it with ease. She then inspected carefully before her eyes shot wide open.
“Your highness!” She exclaimed as her face grew pale. “Please excuse my rudeness, I did not-“
The Princess stepped forward, snatching the silver object from her hand. “I am not so self-absorbed to think every man and woman in our lands knows my face. You have nothing to apologize for.” Her gaze lingered on the sleeping lion crest on the soldiers’ cloaks. “I am in need of three well trained horses. Surely the House of Galdron will provide.”
“O-of course!” The woman fumbled over her words, her face still pale as a sheet of paper. “I will inform the Lord immediately!”
Daith narrowed his eyes, looking beyond the guards and the gate. Ash couldn’t quite see as well as him as all the colours swirling about obscured his view. A silhouette approached through the dark blue and crimson colours. “That won’t be necessary, Commander. Your Highnesses, please excuse the Commander and my men.” He spoke with a deep voice resonating with power and authority. “I apologise for assuming, but I see that you are tired. Allow us to host you for the night, and to prepare an escort for your journey tomorrow.”
His blood red eyes glimmered, and with them, so did the mana swirling all over the castle.