Chapter 20

“So, I wonder what’s going on with Eldric and Fiora,” Morrigan mused, her tone laced with curiosity. She and Alicia sat alone in the main room of the hut, their voices low as they gossiped. Morrigan leaned back in her chair, a sly grin on her face. “For a while there, I was fairly certain Fiora was going to attack Reiko.”

“That would’ve been hilarious,” Alicia said with a laugh, shaking her head at the thought.

Outside, the gentle chirping of crickets suddenly fell silent. Alicia’s ears perked up, and a knowing smile spread across her face. “They must be coming,” she said, rising gracefully from her chair. “Shall we take a peek and see what they’re up to?”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Alicia made her way to the front window, pushing the curtain aside just enough to peek through. With a casual flick of her wrist, Morrigan extinguished the torches around the room, the flames vanishing in a whisper of smoke. “Best not to disturb them,” she murmured, joining Alicia at the window.

Outside, Eldric and Fiora rounded the corner, stopping just shy of the door. In the faint moonlight, the pair stood close, their expressions softened by the quiet intimacy of the moment. Eldric placed his hands gently on Fiora’s waist, and she responded by wrapping her arms around his shoulders, drawing him in.

“Well,” Eldric began, glancing around as if searching for an excuse. “I should probably stay the night out here. Keep watch.” His eyes flicked to a sturdy tree nearby, as if already deciding where to rest.

“What are you talking about?” Fiora protested, her grip tightening slightly.

“Well, I’d imagine all the rooms and beds are taken,” he replied, glancing back toward the hut. “So, I’ll sleep out here and keep an eye on things.”

Eldric turned to walk away, but Fiora refused to let go, pulling him back with an almost desperate determination. “No!” she said firmly. “You are not leaving me again. My bed is plenty big enough for the both of us.”

Alicia’s eyebrows shot up, and she glanced sideways at Morrigan, who smiled mischievously. “Wow,” Alicia whispered.

“You don’t have to worry,” Eldric replied softly, his voice steady as he tried to reassure her. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m done leaving. But I’ll stay out here tonight, just in case.”

He tried once more to pull away, but Fiora clung to him even tighter. Her breath was warm against his ear as she leaned in, her voice a low whisper. “You are not staying out here.” Her lips brushed lightly against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Slowly, she pulled back, resting her head on his shoulder. Her eyes met his, unwavering and sincere. “Come with me,” she urged. “It’s lonely in my room, and as I said, there’s plenty of space.”

Morrigan let out a quiet, giddy squeal. “Holy cow! That is so cute!” she whispered.

“Shut it!” Alicia hissed, nudging her friend.

Eldric hesitated for a moment, but Fiora’s gaze didn’t waver. Finally, he relented. “Well… if it really wouldn’t be an imposition,” he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Fiora smiled triumphantly, taking his hand and leading him toward the door. Alicia and Morrigan ducked lower behind the curtain as the pair stepped inside, walking straight toward Fiora’s room. The soft click of the door closing behind them sent Morrigan into a fit of silent laughter.

“Maybe we should start a little late tomorrow,” Alicia teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Boy,” Morrigan replied, shaking her head, “I knew she was blunt, but man, that boy is clueless.”

The two women exchanged amused glances before heading to their respective quarters for the night.

Unbeknownst to them, nestled in the corner of the room, Reiko crouched silently. Wrapped tightly in her black cloak, she remained concealed by the darkness, her presence unnoticed. Her piercing eyes followed the pair until they disappeared into Fiora’s room.

For a long moment, she stayed there, unmoving, her mind racing as she processed what she’d just observed. Slowly, a faint smile crept onto her lips. Good, she thought. Things are going as planned.

With a quiet exhale, she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. Sleep came gradually, accompanied by fragmented memories of all that had transpired during her time with Eldric.

2 ½ Years Earlier…

Reiko was jarred awake by the sound of a loud THUD! followed immediately by Eldric’s voice yelping in pain. She groaned, rubbing her eyes as annoyance prickled at her already frayed patience. Staring at the ceiling of her room, she let out a long sigh. Can’t he learn how to fight already so I can stop being woken up like this? she thought bitterly. He’s like a damn alarm clock.

She sat up, the chill of the stone room immediately biting at her skin. Her gaze drifted to the corner of her sparse quarters, where her black pants and hooded shirt rested on a chair pushed up against the cold stone wall. She swung her legs off the bed and took two brisk steps to the chair, grabbing her pants and pulling them on quickly. Her bare feet recoiled from the icy floor as she sat back down, muttering under her breath about the eternal cold of the mountains.

Next to the chair, her black leather boots waited alongside a pair of wool socks. She yanked on the socks, their coarse texture a small comfort against the chill, and slipped on her boots. After lacing them tightly, she stood, wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her skin in a futile attempt to warm up. Damn, it’s cold, she thought as she snatched her hooded shirt and slid it over her head.

She crossed to the wooden door of her room and pulled it open, stepping into the dark, narrow hallway. The rough-hewn stone walls seemed to absorb the dim light of the torches lining the corridor. Another THUD! echoed through the hall, followed by the sound of Eldric swearing loudly. She sighed, glancing to her right where his shadow danced erratically on the wall, rising as he hauled himself back to his feet, resuming what looked like another doomed fighting stance.

Shaking her head, she turned left, away from the noise, and grabbed the nearest torch from its sconce on the wall. The flames flickered faintly as she made her way down the corridor, her boots clicking softly against the stone floor. The hallway stretched on, lined with identical wooden doors, each hiding a story she cared little to know.

At last, she reached the dining hall, a massive room dominated by a grand table that could easily seat thirty. The high ceiling soared above her, nearly a hundred feet tall, with a metal chandelier suspended from a chain casting a warm, flickering light that somehow managed to illuminate the entire space.

Around the table sat a group of tired, gaunt men in dark hooded robes. Their faces were lined with age and weariness as they hunched over bowls of oatmeal, eating in near silence. Reiko’s gaze swept over them briefly as she crossed the room, her presence making several of them shift uncomfortably. She could feel their efforts not to look at her, their gazes darting away whenever she came near.

Oatmeal again, she thought with mild disdain as she approached the fireplace at the far end of the room. A massive cauldron hung from a steel rod, its contents simmering faintly. She grabbed a wooden bowl from the end of the table, ladled herself some of the steaming gruel, and retrieved a spoon before sitting down.

The oatmeal was bland and unremarkable, but she ate mechanically, each bite a step closer to satiation. Another THUD! echoed through the halls, followed by Eldric’s familiar string of expletives. Her spoon clattered into the bowl as she clenched her jaw, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Christ, I can’t get away from it, she thought, her annoyance mounting.

Once she finished eating, she carried her bowl to the pile near the fireplace, setting it down with a faint clink. Guess I’ll head to the library, she decided, turning to leave the dining hall and put as much distance as possible between herself and Eldric’s incessant racket.

As she made her way through the winding halls, she passed several people, their eyes darting away the moment they saw her. Their deliberate avoidance no longer surprised her—it was a pattern she had come to expect. A part of her still bristled at the quiet ostracism, but she forced herself to keep walking, her expression blank.

I guess some things will never change, she thought with a sigh as she stepped into the quiet solace of the library, seeking the comfort of its endless shelves and whispered histories.

Reiko reached the end of the hallway, her hands pressing against the aged wooden doors that towered over her. The carved surface was worn smooth by centuries of use, and as she pushed them open, a loud, resonant creak echoed through the stillness beyond.

Before her lay the grand library, a vast space filled with rows upon rows of towering bookshelves that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. The faint scent of parchment, ink, and old wood filled the air, a comforting aroma she had grown to love. The dim light from the high windows cast long, dancing shadows across the floor.

She stepped inside, her boots clicking softly against the stone floor, and made her way toward the shelves at the back of the room. What should I read today? she wondered, her eyes scanning the endless spines as she approached. She paused at a section she hadn’t explored yet, the possibilities sparking a flicker of anticipation.

One title caught her attention immediately: The Art of Time Travel. The gold lettering on the spine seemed to glow, practically demanding her focus. She reached up, plucking the book from the shelf and cradling it under her arm.

As her fingers continued to trace the rows of volumes, another title caught her eye: The Art of Enhancement. She quickly added it to her growing stack, her curiosity piqued. One more should do for now, she thought, her eyes darting across the shelves.

Her gaze landed on a weathered, leather-bound book with the title The Great War embossed in faded gold. She hesitated for a moment, considering the significance of the title, before deciding to include it. Her collection now complete, she turned and made her way to a sturdy wooden table near the center of the room.

Setting the books down with a soft thud, she pulled out one of the heavy chairs and sat, ready to lose herself in the pages. She chose The Great War first, the weight of the book in her hands feeling appropriate for its grave title. As she turned the first page, the story immediately captivated her, pulling her into the intricacies of a conflict she barely knew about but was eager to understand.

Hours seemed to pass as she devoured the text, her focus unbroken until the sound of approaching footsteps snapped her back to reality. She looked up just as Seppel appeared, his imposing figure framed by the library’s shadows. Eldric trailed behind him, looking sheepish.

“What is it?” Reiko asked, slightly annoyed by the interruption.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Look after Eldric for a bit,” Seppel said curtly. His tone left no room for argument. “I need to help with dinner, and I don’t trust him not to burn the place down.”

“I’ll be fine,” Eldric protested, raising his hands defensively.

“The hell you will!” Seppel roared, cutting him off with a glare. “Last time I left you alone, I came back to find the training ground on fire.” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose as though the memory physically pained him.

“It was an accident,” Eldric muttered. “I just—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Seppel snapped, his patience clearly worn thin. “Stay with Reiko.” With that, he spun on his heel and strode away, muttering under his breath.

Reiko sighed, her gaze flicking briefly to Eldric before returning to her book. She didn’t speak, hoping he’d get the hint and leave her alone.

“What are you reading?” Eldric asked, undeterred.

“A book, obviously,” she replied, her tone clipped.

Eldric rolled his eyes. “What’s it called?”

The Great War,” she answered, holding it up briefly before setting it back on the table.

“What’s it about?” he asked, leaning forward, his curiosity piqued.

Reiko sighed again, closing the book and placing her hands on it. Despite herself, excitement began to creep into her voice as she answered. “It’s actually fascinating,” she said, the irritation in her tone giving way to genuine enthusiasm.

Eldric tilted his head, studying her intently. “Well, tell me about it,” he said, his expression earnest.

Reiko thought for a moment, her excitement growing as an idea struck her. She grabbed the book and moved closer to Eldric, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. Flipping it open to the section she had just read, she held it out in front of him.

“Apparently,” she began, her voice tinged with excitement, “over three hundred years ago, long before this current war, the world knew peace. True peace.” Her lips curled into a small smile. “During this time, the entire known world was ruled under a single leader—Prince Thornevale.”

Eldric’s brow furrowed. “You mean Prince Thornevale, the one who oversees Oaklea?”

“The very same,” Reiko confirmed, her tone brimming with energy. “While he’s not a blood descendant of the ancient kings, he was still widely regarded as the rightful ruler of the world.”

“Wow,” Eldric said, his voice filled with wonder. “That’s incredible.”

“It gets even more fascinating,” Reiko continued, her excitement growing. “It seems that everyone admired Thornevale and believed he was leading the kingdom into an era of prosperity.” She paused for dramatic effect, flipping a page in the book. “That was… until everything changed.”

Eldric leaned in closer, his eyes following the turning pages. “What happened?” he asked, practically dying to know.

“One day,” Reiko said, her tone growing more serious, “a powerful and well-respected wizard made a decision that would alter the course of history forever.” She hesitated, letting the weight of her words sink in before continuing. “This wizard chose to use forbidden magic to awaken a sacred creature—one that wizards revered as a god.”

“What kind of creature?” Eldric asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Reiko’s gaze locked onto his, her expression grave. “A dragon,” she said, her voice low and steady.

Eldric’s eyes widened, a mixture of awe and disbelief crossing his face. “A dragon?” he repeated, the word heavy with meaning.

Reiko nodded, her voice taking on a slightly hushed tone as she continued. “It seems there’s only one known dragon in the world. And it’s no ordinary creature. It’s said to be ferocious, immortal, and completely unpredictable.”

She leaned in closer, her tone shifting, laced with tension. “But here’s the thing—only someone with the blood of the ancient kings can control it. They understood how dangerous the dragon was, so they forced it into a deep, enchanted slumber.”

She paused, her voice trembling slightly. “The scariest part? According to this book, they made it hibernate… in the heart of this very mountain.”

Eldric stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, as though the weight of her words had struck him physically. “That’s… that’s incredible!” he finally declared, his voice filled with amazement.

Reiko offered a faint, uneasy smile. “It is incredible,” she said softly. “But also terrifying. If even half of this is true, then the dragon’s presence changes everything.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, the enormity of the revelation settling over them like a heavy blanket. The stillness of the library seemed to stretch around them, broken only by the faint flicker of the chandelier’s light and the distant echo of the mountain winds.

Reiko smiled brightly and turned to the next page, her excitement momentarily dampened by the grim account before her. “The dragon stayed asleep until that reckless wizard summoned it…” She sighed, her tone shifting to one of irritation. “Apparently, the fool thought he was powerful enough to control the dragon without the royal blood required to do so.”

She paused, her brow furrowing. “But the weird thing is…”

Eldric leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. “What?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“It doesn’t say why he did it,” Reiko said, puzzled. “It’s almost as if he summoned the dragon just to prove he could.”

Eldric frowned, the weight of her words sinking in. “Does it say what happened after he did it?” he asked, trying to sneak a glance at the book.

Reiko nodded, flipping through the pages with practiced ease. “Yes, it does,” she said, her tone brightening slightly. “At first, it seems like the wizard managed to keep the dragon under his control.” She paused, scanning the lines of text. “Since the wizards revered the dragon as their god, many of them pledged their loyalty to its summoner instead of Prince Thornevale.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Eldric said, his voice tinged with concern.

“It wasn’t,” Reiko continued, turning another page. “With the dragon at his side and a growing number of supporters, the wizard declared himself the true king.” She stopped, her finger trailing along the text. “That declaration caused the wizards to split into two factions—one loyal to Prince Thornevale and the other to the man who would come to be known as the Rogue King Jamdak.”

Eldric blinked, confusion flashing across his face. “Jamdak? As in Lord Jamdak?”

Reiko shook her head, flipping back a few pages to confirm her findings. “No, not the Lord Jamdak we know. Apparently, the Rogue King was his brother.” She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “For simplicity’s sake, let’s just call him the Rogue King.”

“Agreed,” Eldric said, nodding.

Reiko turned back to the narrative, her eyes scanning the dense text. “Shortly after his declaration, a bloody war broke out among the wizards. However…” Her voice softened, and her expression grew somber. “It seems the ones who suffered most weren’t the wizards, but normal humans caught in the crossfire.”

She continued, her tone growing heavier. “It says here that Lord Jamdak was overwhelmed with guilt over the senseless human suffering. Suffering that stemmed entirely from his brother’s actions.” She paused, turning another page. “During the first few years of the war, Lord Jamdak denounced all ties to his brother. He declared his loyalty to Prince Thornevale and vowed to fight for the greater good.”

Eldric sat back slightly, processing the revelation. “That must’ve been a hard choice,” he said, his voice quiet. “Turning against his own family like that.”

Reiko nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of the page as she contemplated the gravity of the story. “Hard, yes,” she said softly. “But necessary.”

For a moment, the two sat in silence, the weight of history pressing down on them as they pieced together the implications of the ancient conflict—and its echoes in the present.

“This is crazy,” Eldric said, his eyes wide with disbelief. “At least Lord Jamdak realized what his brother was doing was wrong.”

Reiko nodded, her expression grim. “For the majority of the war, it seems he did,” she replied. “According to this, the Rogue King only had a slight upper hand for much of the conflict. That advantage allowed Prince Thornevale and Lord Jamdak to stay just a step ahead of him, keeping the balance from tipping completely in his favor.”

She took a deep breath, pulling a chair closer to the table before sitting down. “But,” she continued, flipping another page, “by the twenty-fifth year of the war, something changed. The Rogue King’s control over the dragon began to waver. It started defying his orders.”

She paused, scanning the text. “For a time, it seems he managed to keep this problem hidden from most of his forces.”

Eldric frowned, his brow furrowing. “That seems like a pretty big problem to hide.”

“No kidding,” Reiko said, shaking her head. “But according to this, some of his military advisors began noticing the cracks in his control. Over the next five years, his hold over the dragon completely shattered.” Her voice grew quieter, more somber. “The consequences were catastrophic. Entire cities were incinerated. Hundreds of thousands of humans were brutally slaughtered. The Rogue King became delusional, convinced that the dragon’s destructive actions were his own strategic choices.”

Eldric leaned forward, his voice taut with urgency. “So, then what happened?”

Reiko flipped another page, her tone steady but grave. “His forces began to see the truth. They realized something was deeply wrong. That’s when the defectors began. One by one, his soldiers and advisors abandoned him, pledging their loyalty to Prince Thornevale instead. In a single night, the Rogue King lost more than half his army.”

Her fingers trailed along the page, stopping at a specific passage. “Then came the final night of the war,” she said softly. “The bloodiest battle of them all. It ended with Lord Jamdak facing his brother in combat—and killing him.”

Eldric sat back, exhaling slowly. “So that’s it, then? The war was over?”

Reiko shook her head, her expression dark. “Not quite,” she said, her voice dropping. “The nightmare was far from over.”

“What do you mean?” Eldric asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Reiko turned another page, her eyes scanning the text before she continued. “After the Rogue King was defeated, his remaining forces—wizards and soldiers alike—swore loyalty to Prince Thornevale. But even with the war over, one massive problem remained.”

“The dragon,” Eldric said, the word heavy with dread.

“Exactly,” Reiko replied. “With the Rogue King gone, the dragon was unbound and uncontrollable. Prince Thornevale led the remaining wizards to this very mountain. They prepared and executed a summoning ritual to draw the dragon here, to the heart of the mountain.”

Her gaze flicked to the stone walls around them, as if imagining the events that had taken place centuries ago. “Upon its arrival, the wizards hexed the dragon into a state of deep hibernation. But it came at a terrible cost. Many wizards lost their lives during the ritual. By the time it was over, only fifteen wizards were believed to have survived the final battle.”

Reiko paused, her fingers brushing lightly over the page. The enormity of the story seemed to weigh on her as she looked at Eldric. “They saved the world,” she said quietly. “But at what cost?”

Eldric sat in stunned silence, the echoes of the past reverberating around them as they contemplated the weight of the choices made centuries before.

“What is it?” Eldric asked, concern etched into his face as he studied Reiko’s expression.

She hesitated, her gaze distant. “The dragon won’t stay asleep forever,” she said finally, her voice heavy with unease. “The spell wasn’t a command—it was a hex. Over time, it will weaken. And when it does…” She paused, her eyes meeting his. “It will awaken. And when that happens, it’s said it will destroy the world.”

Eldric’s breath caught. “What happened next?” he asked, leaning closer, desperate for answers.

Reiko flipped another page, her fingers brushing the aged parchment. “Let’s see,” she began. “After the dragon was subdued, Prince Thornevale returned to Oaklea and resumed his rule. For the next one hundred and fifty years, under his command, the human population recovered. The world found peace once more.”

“That’s good, right?” Eldric said, his voice lifting with hope.

Reiko shook her head, her expression darkening. “Not entirely,” she replied. “It seems Prince Thornevale and Lord Jamdak had a major falling out. According to this, Prince Thornevale’s leadership began to cause suffering and poverty across his kingdom.” She paused, turning to Eldric. “Lord Jamdak strongly believed it was the wizards’ duty to protect humanity—not to rule over it.”

Eldric waited, sensing there was more to the story.

“Lord Jamdak left Oaklea,” Reiko continued. “He took five wizards with him and formed what would become known as the Great Cities—a place where he hoped humanity could flourish under the protection of the wizards. Each wizard became an overseer of one city, and together they formed a council to ensure every major decision was voted on collectively.”

“I doubt Prince Thornevale liked that,” Eldric remarked, crossing his arms.

“No, he didn’t,” Reiko said grimly. “Things only worsened when more and more of Thornevale’s people began leaving to join the Five Great Cities. While Prince Thornevale eventually managed to restore order and bring Oaklea back from the brink of ruin, by then it was too late.”

Eldric tilted his head, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Reiko’s voice dropped, her words deliberate. “Prince Thornevale’s anger toward Lord Jamdak and the other wizards for what he saw as their betrayal consumed him. He convinced his people that the Great Cities were to blame for all the suffering they’d endured. He twisted the narrative, making them believe the cities were the reason the world had nearly ended.” She drew in a deep breath. “Then, he declared war. His goal was to reunite all the cities under his control.”

“And that’s how the current war started,” Eldric said, piecing it together.

“It would seem so,” Reiko replied, closing the book with a soft thud.

“Eldric!” Seppel’s voice echoed through the library, sharp and commanding. Reiko and Eldric both looked up to see Seppel standing in the doorway, his arms crossed impatiently. “Let’s go!”

Eldric stood, stretching briefly before turning to Reiko. “Can we talk more later?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

Reiko returned the smile, wide and genuine. “Of course,” she said.

Eldric hesitated, studying her face closely. “Have we met before?” he asked suddenly. “You look a lot like someone I know.”

Reiko’s smile faltered slightly, but she shook her head. “No,” she said softly.

“Eldric, let’s GO!” Seppel barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Eldric shot Reiko a quick smile before jogging toward the doorway to join Seppel. Reiko watched him leave, her heart unexpectedly heavy as the sound of their footsteps faded down the corridor.

Sighing, she turned back to the table and reached for another book from her pile. Her eyes landed on The Art of Enhancement, and she dragged it closer to herself. Let’s give this a read, she thought, flipping it open. Maybe I can do something with it.

Her fingers hovered over the pages, but her mind wandered. She stared into the distance, her thoughts swirling. Is he… really my father?