Kaira stepped into the command center of the Tigris camp, her mind still echoing with Ravaen’s warning. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t shake the growing sense of dread that gripped her heart like an unseen hand, urging her to be cautious.
Could she truly trust the Orderians at this point? Everess’ actions over the past five years had left her wary. While it was undeniable that Everess had helped greatly in re-securing the Huertian border, it had come at a steep cost — a cost of trust from everyone else, and that she felt Tamiron had chosen to overlook.
Everess had spiraled out of control long before others had recognized it. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for not addressing it sooner with then Grand Commander Tamiron. But as she reflected on it, she realized that speaking up earlier might have only planted the seeds of doubt earlier in their campaign.
The person she had once admired, Tamiron, was slowly becoming someone she barely recognized. Ever since the events of five years ago, he had changed completely. She couldn’t help but wonder if she should have spoken up much earlier.
As she entered the quarters, another guard hurried in, a jittery owl clutched in his arms.
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
“I don’t know, Princess. It was fine moments ago, but suddenly it went into shock, and then this started to happen,” the Guard replied, struggling to place the owl onto a perch, but the bird refused to let go of his arm.
“Is it fine if you just let it latch onto your arm?” she asked, her curiosity lingered, concerned for the guard’s well-being.
“It’s okay, Princess, it doesn’t hurt at all,” the guard reassured her as he stood carefully.
“Okay, connect me with the Mistrell at once,” she commanded, stepping closer to the jittery owl.
The handler began to chant the command, and a projection slowly formed. At first, the image was unclear, but it gradually sharpened until it showed the Mistrell of the Middle Kingdom.
“My daughter, can you see me?” the Mistrell asked.
“Yes, Mother. How about you? Can you hear and see me fine?” she inquired, noticing her mother’s apparent struggle.
“I’m sorry, Kaira. The owls seem to be a little agitated today. They stopped flying and started shaking for some reason. It’s odd, as they refuse to leave the handler’s arms,” the Mistrell explained.
Frowning, she found it curious. It was the first time the owls had behaved this way. She shook off her concern and continued, “It’s fine, Mother. We need to make this quick. There are people out there attacking places of importance. The Empire has been attacked, along with the Ahktum Temple of the Mystic Realms. In light of this, and the recent attacks on the Kra’ens. From our side, the connection is still not clear, but they may be, I believe it is necessary for you to bolster the defenses of the tomb we have there.”
“That is of great worry then. What did the Empire find out about this, along with the Mystic Realms?” the Mistrell inquired.
“As of now, both kingdoms are conducting their own investigations. For now, they don’t have any clear answers on who is doing this and why,” she informed her.
“So what you are saying is that they still don’t have any idea?” her mother said, to which she nodded.
“Let us try to avoid this happening in our lands. I want you to begin the fortification of the tomb of the Lioness. We can’t take any chances here, Mother,” she requested.
“I think that will not be necessary. But as you requested, my Daughter, I will send the best of what’s left of the army there for now,” the Mistrell assured her.
“Thank you so much, Mother. I’m just bothered by the thought that someone is doing this. We still don’t know what for,” she said, managing a smile.
“Given the information from the Kra’ens and Mystic Realms, they are attacking places that holds importance, don’t you think?” the Mistrell questioned her, surprising her. She didn’t know how to respond when her mother stood and moved closer. “If they attack the tomb of the Lioness, then we may be on the brink of another war, my Daughter.” Her heart suddenly beat faster. The thought of her own home in war disturbed her.
“It will not be a pretty sight. But until now, the Lioness have sympathizers. They worship her as the Sun Goddess, the fallen daughter of the Lion Sun. She is their symbol. Remember that not all of the Tigris people are of the Tigris race, my daughter. Just like not all Trasidians are purely Trasidians,” her mother said.
“I still don’t get it. Why do we not just erase the Lioness from our history completely? It doesn’t make sense that we have people within our own borders who can turn against us in a moment’s notice,” she argued. She had been telling her mother this for years, believing that these people needed to be dealt with.
“The Lioness fought against our ancestors for Tigeria, but she lost, doomed by her own prowess and arrogance. That’s why we have prevailed. But her arrogance and viciousness in the past are still overshadowed by her achievements. Achievements none of our past Mistrells and Arioras have matched. That thought alone should give you an idea of what we could be up against,” her mother answered.
“We should be able to change that then,” she replied quickly.
“And what then?” her mother asked.
“Well,” she hesitated. “At least we’ll take out the weed. A garden is only as beautiful as we make of it.”
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“We are talking about people with lives, my Daughter. Comparing them to weed is not a good way of doing it,” her mother scolded her.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been with the Trasidians a long time. I’m starting to pick up their metaphors,” she said, shaking off her lapse in judgment. “Be that as it may, Mother. She is dead. Long dead,” she added.
Her mother only smiled and said, “But we know her story, don’t we, my daughter?” The Mistrell’s words caught her off guard.
She may be dead, but her ideology, her achievements, could still resonate within some people. The Lioness, once a formidable adversary, had left behind a legacy that transcended her mortality. Her story had become folklore, her name a rallying cry for those dissatisfied with the status quo. The mere idea of her, her defiance, her strength, was more dangerous than she originally thought.
If the tomb was attacked, it would confirm the connection of the recent attacks against the Empire, the Kra’ens, and the Mystic Falcons. It would solidify the fear that someone, somewhere, was orchestrating a rebellion, using the Lioness’s memory as one of their rallying points — a banner under which to summon an army at a moment’s notice.
The thought sent a chill down her spine. It wasn’t merely a matter of defending a tomb; it was about safeguarding against the resurgence of an ideology that threatened the very fabric of their society. And she couldn’t help but feel that this threat was shared by everyone else.
Then something clicked in her mind.
“Mother, I’ve got to go. I have to contact some people,” she said quickly, and the projection of her Mother disappeared. “Connect me with Ravaen.”
The Owl Handler chanted the command, and Ravaen appeared in the projection.
“Kaira, I’m not expecting any contact from any one of you. If Aderon—”
“I need to ask you something about the attack in your temple,” she cut him off. “Was someone buried there?”
Ravaen was caught off guard. “Yes.”
Her mind raced, as she already had an idea of what the attackers were trying to do. “Can you tell me a little about that person?”
Ravaen looked visibly confused. “Well, since you asked. A retired bayalanak just told me one thing. That my father wasn’t able to pass down to me knowledge that he should have. That the Mystic King shares with them. Ahktum Temple doubles as a tomb.”
There it is, she thought.
“A tomb for someone called, The Hawk,” Ravaen answered, surprising Sevidon and Glaivel.
“Do you know him then?” Kaira asked again.
“I honestly have no idea. But I already had the council look into that immediately. However, given that the bayalanaks were so intent on finding out what was inside that tomb, I’d say that person is rather important,” Ravaen said, his foot tapping out of frustration. “Why did you ask?”
“I have an idea, but I want to check on it first,” she said.
“Whatever that is, make sure you tell me as well,” Ravaen said before abruptly ending his projection.
“He is so rude, doesn’t know when to say goodbye,” she muttered, irritated by Ravaen’s abrupt departure. The handler tried not to react. “Connect me with Graveloth.”
Slowly, the projection of Graveloth started to appear.
“Hello Kaira, how’s everyone there?” Graveloth cheerily greeted her, but she had no time for pleasantries.
“I’m good, listen, about the attack that happened there. Aderon mentioned that,” she said immediately.
“Yeah, I was knocked out for two days. I was not expecting that kind of fight at all,” Graveloth replied.
“Tell me, was it a temple or a tomb that got attacked?” she quickly asked.
Graveloth, caught off guard, answered, “It’s a tomb. Why do you ask?”
“Can you tell me a little bit about who was buried there?” she asked quickly.
“Uhh, sure,” Graveloth cleared his throat. “I found out from a book a friend of mine gave me before I left. It was the Snow Wolf who was buried there. He was a hero of my people in the early days.”
“Is he some kind of hero? A legend?” she inquired further.
“Yes, you could say that,” Graveloth replied.
“Okay, tell me if you have any more information,” she said.
“Wait, what is this all about?” Graveloth asked.
“I’ll tell you when I have all the details. Have a safe march,” she said, quickly ending the projection.
All that was left for her to confirm her hunch was to speak to Tamiron, but she wasn’t sure if she could contact him immediately. “Connect me with the Regent, Tamiron.”
The Owl Handler began to chant, and after a few moments, a projection of Tamiron appeared.
“Kaira, I was not expecting this. What can I do for you?” Tamiron said, busy with some paperwork.
“I would just like to confirm the attack that occurred. Was it on a tomb or a temple?” she asked directly.
Tamiron’s eyes quickly met hers, confirming her suspicions.
“Who told you that?” Tamiron asked.
“No one, just a hunch,” she said, watching as Tamiron stood up.
“Who else was attacked besides the Mystic Falcons?” Tamiron asked.
“So you knew about that already?” she replied before answering, “The Kra’ens. Graveloth was knocked out for two days before they could march.”
Tamiron, usually calm and collected, was visibly worried. His demeanor had changed; now, she could read him easier than in the past.
“Tell Aderon to give me updates regarding Graveloth’s march too. I have some things to attend to,” he said, and then his projection disappeared.
The look Tamiron gave her spoke volumes, revealing more than words ever could. It was confirmation enough. Someone was indeed stirring up trouble, weaving a web of chaos using the remnants of the past to disrupt the present. It was a sinister game, one that delved into the forgotten annals of history to conjure up old grievances and inflame them into something dangerous.
It was more than just a series of isolated incidents; it was the rekindling of ancient enmities, the resurrection of long-buried conflicts. The significance of these attacks was not lost on her. They were more than random acts of violence; they were deliberate provocations, calculated to evoke memories long forgotten and well up into a possibly unstoppable force.
As she pondered the implications, a sense of urgency washed over her. If they didn’t act swiftly, the consequences could be catastrophic. Her thoughts then strayed towards that lone tomb in their Kingdom, as her memory lingered on like the sun’s rays, and much more appreciated by a lot of beings, for they appreciated Luna above all else.
As Luna’s light shined over the Plains of Thromasda, a full battalion marched towards the hill tomb of the Lioness. Their footsteps echoed on the ground as most of the insects and animals of the night stirred clear of them.
As the great pillar atop the hill rose from the horizon, the tomb lay buried beneath the ground, its existence signified only by the black pillar. Slowly, pink pillars of light began to break out from the hill grounds.
The guards halted, alarmed. The commander of the battalion walked a little bit forward as more and more pink pillars appeared from the ground. Suddenly, the great pillar began to topple, and pink and red lightning struck out from the hill.
The ground shook more drastically as the pink lights started to grow, and the cracks widened. The hill was erupting.
“Fall back now!” the commander shouted, and the soldiers began to flee. But as they ran, the ground shook more violently, and they began to sink. The roaring, crumbling sound of the earth ceased, but the ground continued to break apart.
Then, suddenly, the hill and the surrounding earth exploded from below, with a blinding light of pink, red, and maroon shooting up into the sky.
As the light slowly disappeared, a cloaked figure revealed itself, hovering over what used to be the tomb of the Lioness. The figure became engulfed in a maroonish-pink orb, and as the orb disappeared, so did the attacker.
End of Chapter XX