image [https://i.imgur.com/aZ5SzKQ.jpeg]

"Bring them in," the tyrant said. "Bring them before me."

The guards removed the blindfolds from the three prisoners—Jason, Rudra, and Morse. Their hands and ankles remained bound, along with ropes tied tight around their bodies, as they were shoved forward, sliding across the stone floor of the tyrant’s chamber.

The chamber was spare, except for a majestic throne of dragon bones where the tyrant sat, two torches, and a cauldron in the center, which was filled with an odorous purple liquid. That was the dragon's blood, one of the most valuable commodities on Lokar.

"What do you have to say to me?" the tyrant asked. "You. And you. And you. Speak your mind. I want to know what happened out there. I want to know who you are."

There was no response. Jason knew to keep his mouth shut, never to speak up against the tyrant. One wrong word and he'd be in the dungeon. He figured his odds were better by keeping quiet for now.

Rudra had his eyes on someone else. On the other side of the room was Queen Frine of the Altaimi clan. It was his queen, and the reason why he set off towards the Hilaboreas kingdom. Now the first half of his mission was complete. He made it into the castle where she was held captive. Rudra didn't say a word, and neither did the queen, but they were both encouraged by seeing the other. Rudra stayed quiet and patient, observing the guards and the tyrant, studying them for when he could make his move to free Queen Frine.

Morse didn't reply either, but her eyes locked together with the tyrant's. His gaze settled on her. She had the most curious look to her. He'd never seen a style of dress like she wore in his life. She was scared and fearless, innocent and dangerous, all at once. But what caught his attention most were her fiery orange eyes. He had never seen anything like them before.

"What’s your name?" the tyrant asked. "Speak up. I am Tyrant Rayos. I rule everything you see before you. These are my subjects, and they submit to me and my will. Do you know why? Do you know why I have this position? Why I sit in this chamber and rule while they listen?"

Morse shook her head and said nothing.

"Speak now," the tyrant commanded. His voice boomed. "Or I will have you killed. I want the full story from you all, her first!"

Morse remained silent. She simply looked at the tyrant, then looked away, lowering her gaze and closing her eyes.

"As you will," the tyrant said.

He stood from his throne made of the bones of the dragon he slayed. With a flick of his index finger across his throat, the command was given. The guards knew what it meant. They circled around Morse, picked her up from the stone floor, and started to drag her to a dark room to the side of the chamber.

Morse knew she was going to die.

"Wait!" she cried. "Wait, wait, wait. I'll tell you who I am. And I don’t care if you believe me."

The guards hesitated and looked to Tyrant Rayos for his command. He motioned for them to drop her. They set her back down alongside the other two captives.

"You saw my ship crash in the woods," Morse continued. "I ejected and landed about twenty kilometers away from the crash. I followed the smoke until I found it. I waited, because I knew someone would come. And I was right. But what I didn’t expect was to find them"—she nodded toward the black-clad guards—"but I'm lucky, because I found him first, tied to a tree."

Morse looked at Jason, waiting for him to speak up. He didn't say a word.

"Is this true?" the tyrant asked, looking to Jason. "You were there, tied to a tree?"

Jason still didn't speak.

"I demand answers. Speak now or you'll both be killed, along with this elf."

Jason turned to Morse and then Tyrant Rayos. "She's right. I was tied up there."

"And I'm the one who tied him up." Rudra broke his silence. He grinned with bloodlust at the tyrant and said nothing else.

The tyrant studied the three of them and ran his fingers through his gray beard. "I don't believe any of this and I hate lies more than orcs. You, girl with the fire eyes, what is your name?"

"I'm Morse."

"And you say you crashed your ship," the tyrant said with hesitation.

"That's right, a ship."

"And it crashed into the forest?"

"At the same forest where your guards found me."

"Tell me where in Lokar you hail from. Tell me your lineage, your ruler, and what brings you here." The tyrant paused and studied her eyes. He couldn't get over their color. "Tell me why you have those eyes."

"I will answer honestly as I can," Morse said. "I'm not from Lokar, yet I speak Glossar, the same language as you. In Elovia, we've kept the language as static as we can, that is to say, the core of the language, the way you know it, while adding much more depth and complexity due to scientific research. This doesn't directly concern your question, but it may help you to understand why we can communicate, when I was born in the sky."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Tyrant Rayos paced back and forth in front of his dragon bone throne. This last part gave him pause, about her being born in the sky. There was no way. It was impossible. But was she lying? There was no trace of any false thing in her voice. The tyrant's long gray hair trailed down his back, his body was strong and limber despite his age. He had ruled Hilaboreas for 37 years, ever since he slayed the dragon and established the kingdom. His mind and spirit were just as strong as his body. And although he was known as a cruel tyrant, he had a knack for discerning the truth when it was spoken.

"You came from the sky."

"You heard me right," Morse said. " I’m from the sky. I’m an Elovian."

The tyrant stopped his pacing. "Say that again," he said. "You are a what?"

"What you see in the sky," Morse continued. "Those lights that move. They are our home. There's so much I can explain, but I wouldn't know where to begin. But we are a part of you, just as you are a part of us. That's why I am here. To stop the plague that's spreading, to stop the [[Shadurak]]."

Gasps and hushed words passed from the lips of the guards. Jason and Rudra looked at each other in frightened disbelief, and the elf Queen Frine recoiled at the horrible sound. It was a name that was never to be uttered, a word that was unholy for every tongue - human, elf, orc, goblin, vampire, every race except the draco, who revered it but, even so, would never utter its sounds.

The tyrant grinned. There was nothing he loved more than danger and the blasphemous.

"So let's come to an understanding," he said. "You flew down from the stars above and crashed by my kingdom. You wear these strange clothes that show your skin. Your eyes are like a dragon's fire. And you came to save us from the great beast."

The tyrant circled Morse, leaning in closer now to get a better look at her eyes.

"It is curious," he said. "You sound like us, but not quite. Your words hang with a special flavor and sound. Is that a good way to put it? Is it scientific enough? I don't know, you tell me. You say you're from the stars, but I say that's impossible. That's a legend, a tale of the wanderers, meant for kids and campfires. And yet, your words sound true. I have an ear for the truth and an ear for lies."

"I do speak true," Morse said.

The tyrant sat back down on his dragon bone throne. "So tell me more," he said. "What I can't understand, and maybe you can help, is that in all my days, which have been many, I've never seen any creature like you. I have captured elves." He grinned and pointed to Queen Frine. "I have fought orcs. I have tricked trolls. I have tasted the blood of vampires and made love to mermaids so radiant that men would kill for their beauty. I am the tyrant of Hilaboreas because I slayed a dragon. Its heart sits in that cauldron there. But never, never, in all my years have I met someone from the sky. And now you mean to tell me that today, in my chamber, we have one standing before us?"

"I am of the sky," Morse said. "I am an Elovian."

The tyrant smirked. "Prove it."

Morse held his gaze. "What can I say to prove it? You see me. You see my eyes, my clothes. Your guards saw my ship. You hear the way I speak. What more can I do?"

"All of those things can be made up," he said. "I have seen fakers and magicians in the greater kingdoms to the south and east. That craft? Dug up, perhaps, and set on fire for dramatic effect. Your clothes? A fever dream of a sky person’s wardrobe. Your tongue? Just an accent, some acting you've learned. Your eyes? Maybe someone dripped some elixir into them."

The tyrant turned to Jason. "You there, speak. What is your name?"

"My name is Jason."

"She found you tied to a tree, is that right?"

"That's right," Jason said. "If she didn't find me, the direwolves would have."

"Do you trust what this girl says?"

Jason paused. He looked Morse in her fire orange eyes. She saved him in the forest. But could he save her now? If he contradicted the tyrant, they could both be dead. And if he said nothing, the end would be the same. It was better now to speak the truth.

"I believe she's from the sky," Jason said firmly.

"Enough," the tyrant said, waving a dismissive hand. "This charade has gone on long enough. Take them both to the dungeon. I’m not in the mood to hear their screams."

The guards hooked their arms under both Morse and Jason's, dragging them away. As they reached the door to the dungeon, Rudra shouted. "Stop! Stop! You fools, stop it now. I have something that can prove who she is."

The tyrant sighed. "What trick is this now, elf? It better be good, or you'll join them. My patience is thin and I've only kept you up here because of the elf queen."

"If your idiot guards had done their jobs," Rudra said, "they would have found something in my pocket."

The tyrant gestured. A guard searched Rudra, then pulled out a white cylindrical object with three black buttons running down the side and a red glass top.

Morse gasped. "That’s it! That can prove who I am!"

The tyrant’s interest was piqued. He took the device and examined it. He pressed the buttons, alternating between them. Nothing happened.

"Explain," the tyrant said. "And make it good. If this doesn’t prove who you are, I’ll kill you myself."

Morse's face lit with hope. "Yes of course," she said, "But you need to untie me first."

"Oh, you’re not being untied," the tyrant said. "Tell me what to do, and I will do it."

"You don’t understand," she said. "What am I going to do? Run? Fight? Look at me, I can't."

The tyrant narrowed his eyes. "Or maybe it’s a weapon." He turned the device over in his hands and tossed it across the stone floor of his chamber. "Maybe you’ll release fire or poison. No. I don’t trust it."

Before Morse could respond, a voice echoed through the chamber.

"Tyrant Rayos, I have news to report."

A short, ugly man shuffled across through the shadows and into the room. He wore a purple robe that covered his bulging belly. His teeth were like pointed shards of glass, and two twisted horns grew from the top of his bald head. His skin was pale and yellow, with sagging cheeks. A staff topped with a golden pinecone rested in his grip, and he wore a talisman with a red dragon eye, which matched the belt of the tyrant.

"Carluch, you've decided to join us," the tyrant said. "And you came at the perfect time. What news do you bring?"

Carluch was a Seer, a sort of sorcerer and advisor to the tyrant, who studied in the arts of alchemy, poisons, and magic. He is the one who handled the sticky purple blood of the dragon that filled the black cauldron. Carluch huffed and wheezed through his piggish nose, catching his breath, and sweat pooled on his forehead.

"There are reports from Limnosos," Carluch wheezed. "An attack. We don’t have all the details yet, but survivors have been spotted at the swamp's edge to the south. They ride by horseback to flee this menace."

"What kind of attack?" the tyrant asked.

Carluch hesitated. "You dare me to speak the name?"

"Speak it!"

"It's the Shadurak, my lord," Carluch said. "It has awakened."

The tyrant exhaled sharply. "Then we will deal with this first. Guard, grab that strange thing there on the floor. She will tell you how to use it."

The guard picked up the cylindrical device and stepped towards Morse. His hand was steady and firm, gripping it with no fear of the dangers it could bring.

"Press that black button there," she said. "Right on the side, the first one. And bring it closer to me, so I can speak into it."

The guard did as he was told. A static hum vibrated from the device.

"SX-138, this is Morse," she said. "SX-138, do you copy, this is Morse. I have crash landed but I am alive."

There was nothing but silence. No response. Morse repeated the call again, and then a third time. The tyrant waited with a rare patience.

Then a voice. A young girl’s voice.

"Morse? Morse, where are you?"