Seated around the table, Ash felt like he was about to crumble under the weight of three very intense gazes.
“Was the dress I had prepared not to your liking, Princess?” Lord Galdron asked. Two of the gazes shifted away from Ash, giving him a moment to breathe. Daith continued to glare though, and he certainly didn’t seem even remotely happy.
Ash recounted the events since arriving at the castle. Had he done or said something wrong? Was that why they seemed so angry? But everything was fairly normal until just a few moments ago, and he couldn’t really remember being offensive.
“It was beautiful, I did not want it to be damaged during out journey to Bhaile-Morn.” The Princess answered somewhat coldly. With care, she took a piece of rolled meat, and chewed it for an unnaturally long time. It was almost funny. Almost. But Ash could see strands of her golden mana touching her plate. It swirled gracefully, touching every bit of food on her plate before she took a single bite.
She was buying time to give herself a chance to check for poison.
Glancing at Daith, Ash saw the same thing – thin, golden strands of mana swirling around his plate.
As his appetite vanished, Ash massaged his temples. Just being in the castle was difficult enough, crimson, and dark blue mana was everywhere – in the floorboards, in the stone blocks that made up the walls, even in some of the furniture. It was as if the entire castle had been coated with it. It hurt his eyes when he tried to see beyond it for too long.
“Your companion seems quite tired.” The Lord spoke up. “And he also seems quite battered,” Ash quickly pulled his arms under the desk, but the bruises and scratches had been spotted already. “It is unusual… no, unacceptable that you travelled with no guards, no escort, no protection whatsoever.”
Princess Aoife glanced at Daith before turning her gaze to Lord Galdron. “We travelled with guards, Lord Galdron. But we were attacked. Creatures of the night, corrupted beasts with crude control over mana attacked us.” She leaned back. “We haven’t been able to regroup with the remainder of our convoy yet.”
Lord Galdron’s expression darkened. He leaned forward, his lips curled down into a frown. “I will send search parties at first light, surely there are survivors. I have also instructed my men to prepare to head out tomorrow, they will escort you to Bhaile-Morn safely.”
“That is very thoughtful of you.” Princess Aoife said as her mana finally retreated from her dinner. The rest of dinner passed with idle chatter which Ash didn’t partake in. He desperately wanted to rest his eyes, and the food didn’t seem appetising at all anymore. Eventually, once the nobles had finished their meal, the Lord pushed his chair back, and stood up.
“You are surely tired, so I shall leave you to rest in a moment.” He bowed at the Princess and her brother. “However, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak with you in private, your highness.” His blood red gaze turned to the princess.
“Not at all,” Princess Aoife nodded towards her brother, then shot Ash a cold glance. Taking the hint, Ash hurried out of the room, followed by Daith. As the door closed behind them, a middle aged servant stepped out of the shadows. “Please follow me, your highness.” His gaze passed over Ash as if he didn’t even exist as he bowed to Prince Daith.
Daith nodded wordlessly, and the servant led them through a different set of hallways until they finally reached the narrow hallway that led to their rooms. “You may leave us,” Daith said, and closed the door to the servant’s face. The loud bang of the door hitting its frame echoed, startling Ash.
“Come with me,” Daith grabbed Ash’s arm before he could protest, and dragged him into his room. As soon as he closed the door, the young prince lit up with a golden colour. Ash covered his eyes instinctively, and only peeked through his fingers as he watched the prince’s mana spread across the room like a spherical net.
A few moments later, the sphere touched the walls, and Prince Daith sat on the couch. “Now they won’t be able to hear us.” He said, pointing at the other couch. “You have some explaining to do.”
Ash scowled as he lowered himself onto the couch, sitting at the very edge. “About what?” he asked as the Prince’s demeanour confirmed his previous suspicion. The siblings were definitely upset about something.
Daith pointed behind him. “That hair. Golden hair.” He hissed, his golden eyes glimmering with a mix of anger and curiosity. “You are no son of a farmer are you, Ash Morgan?” He scoffed. “Is that even your real name?”
“What?” Taken aback, Ash blurted out. His mind blanked for a moment. “What do you mean?”
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Daith’s lips formed a thin line. “I could swear your hair was a brown colour. Perhaps it was the mud and the blood, or perhaps a spell to hide its real colour, I can’t say which.” He furrowed his brows. “Nor does it matter right now – you are clearly of Twilit descent!”
“I… what?” Ash’s shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” He scowled. “My mom died when giving birth to me – she was a tailor who was born in Serna and never set foot outside of it. And my father is a farmer, who never set foot outside Serna either. He’s still alive – go ask him if you wish.” He had raised his voice, but it only occurred to him after the fact.
“Oh, I will. Perhaps you should start speaking the truth before I have an enforcer visit him.” Without even raising his voice, Prince Daith sent a shiver down Ash’s spine. His golden gaze was cold as ice as he glared at him.
Ash clenched his fists. What was it with these people not believing him? First Lord Galdron insinuated something similar, and now Prince Daith of all people had suddenly decided he was a liar. “Go ahead!” He hissed. “All they’ll find is an angry man and his dying wife!” He shouted with a catch in his voice. Without waiting for the Prince to speak, he rushed out the room, covering his face as he passed through the golden net created with his mana. He slammed the door behind him as he left the prince’s room and hurried to his own.
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It was a warm summer’s day. The vibrant light of the Spire of Kindling illuminated the world, nurturing it with life. The Serenpetal fields were quiet as always, with only the sound being leaves rustling with the gentle, warm breeze and the short, sharp breathing of a frightened child.
His golden hair was covered in leaves and dirt, and his bright blue eyes were wide with fear, and wet with tears he barely held back. He covered his mouth with both of his hands as he sat against the perimeter wall around the beautiful, serene fields.
“ASH!” A coarse voice shouted his name, making him jump up on his feet. His legs trembled as he turned towards the owner of the voice – a tall, bald man with broad shoulders, and a fairly round body. Beads of sweat rolled down his bald forehead. “Get the shovel!”
The man carried a child on his shoulder – a kid perhaps two years younger than Ash. His neck was bent oddly, and his body didn’t move at all.
His trembling hands gripped the shovel’s wooden handle, he dragged it with him as he followed his father beyond the perimeter wall. A dense, dark forest stretched beyond it, with a canopy of leaves so thick, the Spire’s light couldn’t pierce it.
It was cold beneath the forest canopy. Cold and dark, so their breaths turned into a white mist, and they could see only a few steps in front.
“Dig,” His father pointed at the ground after a short while of walking. “Hurry up.”
The young Ash hit the ground with the shovel. Blood oozed from the ground, crimson and dark blue, it swirled and swished around him as if the spirit of his friend was haunting him. Every time he struck the earth with the shovel, the crimson and dark blue colours grew stronger. Like the hands of the dead, they grasped at his clothes, clenched around his wrists and arms, and clawed their way up, reaching for his defenceless throat. He gasped for air as tears rolled down his cheeks, yet he couldn’t stop shovelling to try and free himself.
His eyes shot wide open to swirling colours on the ceiling. His heart raced as his mind slowly registered that what he saw was a dream. He wasn’t back at the Serenpetal fields. He was never going to see that man ever again.
Drenched in sweat, he sat upright on the soft bed. It was the dead of night. Castle Myrkur was silent, as it should be at this hour. There were probably a few hours before the Spire lit up again. He turned his gaze outside, through the glass panes of the balcony door. His head throbbed with pain at his sudden motion.
“Great…” he muttered, feeling more exhausted then when he first went to bed. A headache, just what he needed… He pushed himself off the bed, and with slow steps, made his way to the bathroom, only pausing to swish away the crimson and dark blue mana floating mid-air.
Having water he could just summon by turning a knob was such a commodity. He washed his face with cold, fresh water, then staggered back to the room. The air was heavy and suffocating with all this mana around him. It was swirling mid-air, slithering around almost as if it sought something to latch onto. It was difficult to look at, and he didn’t feel it would be good to breathe it in.
With a sigh, he dragged his feet to the balcony. As soon as he opened the door, sounds reached his ears. The sound of a cold breeze whistling as it passed through the forest beyond the castle gates, the sound of soldiers standing guards, chatting, and complaining about the cold, the dark, or their job.
The night was cold, but fresh air immediately helped clear his head. He glanced over his shoulder before stepping outside – the crimson and dark blue mana was still swirling and floating mid-air. It didn’t seem to be affected by the breeze at all. Annoyed, he stepped out onto the balcony.
The balcony overlooked the courtyard of the castle. It was quite high up, giving him a good view of the gatehouse, the stables, and the barracks as well. He leaned on the railing, his gaze scouring the castle’s courtyard.
Even now, the whole castle glowed with swirling mana. It was an unnerving sight that made him feel somewhat dizzy. Even in the Serenpetal fields he hadn’t seen quite so much mana.
As he watched the courtyard, letting the fresh air slowly calm his throbbing headache, some voices reached his ears. His gaze snapped to the gates, only to see a large group of soldiers arrive, dragging behind them long, loud chains. They often paused and pulled at the chains, as if whatever was at the other end of them was resisting.
Ash narrowed his eyes as he tried to see through the swirling mana. The soldiers stepped into the courtyard, dragging with them over a dozen creatures, secured in chains and harnesses, wreathed in bight crimson and black mana that he had seen before.
The corrupted beasts were brought into the courtyard, and the castle gates closed shut afterwards. “Take them home!” The Commander barked. “Hurry up, we have guests tonight!” She was standing by the gate, and as she spoke, she raised her gaze.
Ash threw himself on the ground, his heart racing.
Had she seen him just now?