Dranar reined in the mule and climbed down from the cart. His legs still ached though it had already been three days since the fighting. His Chimera no longer healed as it used to, though that was partly his fault he supposed. He led the way now, guiding the animal through the fields. The ground was rocky by the cliffs, unsuitable for farming or homes. It did offer amazing views, however. The city was still visible behind him, even in the fading light of the day.

The broken walls of the ancient lighthouse were a little more broken than he’d remembered, but the memories of the place hadn’t changed. The good times, before the mess and chaos of life took over.

He took out a shovel from the back of the cart and began to dig. The work was hard, the ground rough and uneven. He gritted his teeth, such work should not be easy.

The work gave him time to reflect. He began to think of Drevan, as he often did. It all began with him.

Dranar had long ago stopped deluding himself. His ambition as much as Drevan’s had been the reason for their failed uprising. He could have stopped it, helped to dissuade him from such recklessness. But he didn’t, instead they had urged on each other, one more foolish than the next.

He still remembered how New Order had came for him. He laughed bitterly, recalling how he had dismissed the threats and warnings when they’d cornered him that fateful night. He was ready for all of it. Brave and loyal to the end. And then….

They had argued well. He was the new Lord of the House. He could not allow it to fall, to become extinct because of his hubrisness. He would have been the sole destroyer of his House’s long and storied history and for what? His own desire for power and glory? They pointed out all the right things, why he could not allow it, why it was different for Drevan. What did he risk? Nothing. He had no manor, no House, no power, no wealth. Dranar did. He could not be foolish. So he hadn’t. He’d done the right thing.

The right thing, Dranar shook his head as he heaved away another piece of the earth.

His reward for betraying his best friend had been the demotion of his House to one of the lowest of the Forty. Overnight Dronian’s manor, half its riches, and its best Household guards taken by those whom he hated and wished to dispose of.

Alisha was right, he knew, it would have been better for him and his House had he just died there and then. Their House might have portrayed him as just a rogue fool, untied to their own beliefs. Instead, they’d been made to suffer. Alisha taken from him, used to ensure he did not go back on their plans for him to betray Drevan. They had been thorough, but he had been weak. Alisha had never forgiven him, though he did not blame her. Perhaps now she might think something of him, but perhaps not.

Alisha was the true ruler of their House, and had been for quite some time now. She had been proved right. Dranar suspected that she'd anticipated her cousins dying trying to kill Sandorn and Averan. It left her power even further undisputed. Everything she said had worked just as she’d hoped. Dranar’s old connections had helped to easily gain the trust of the Twins, and the New Order’s display of him saving them at the walls had solidified the Twin's belief that he could be trusted. Even wary Fenadorn had not been able to detect his betrayal. Betrayal, that has been the cornerstone of my life. A traitor, to Drevan and to his children. Two generations of great men ruined by one pitiful man.

Dranar stopped his shoveling, he was deep enough. Climbing up out of the hole he’d created he lay the shovel down and took out the first of the tightly wrapped bundles. He paused before he lowered it into the grave.

He would have made a great King. Even greater than Drevan. He had the temperament and ferocity to truly revive the line.

The boy had derailed the New Order at every turn, repeatedly going beyond their expectations to destroy their well-thought-out plans and intentions. The King Aureate would have defeated the New Order, had it not been for him. He would have been loved by the people. a King in name, appearance, and nature. His only mistake had been his trust in Lord Dranar Dronian. He alone contrived to thwart everything he had worked so hard for. He would have made a great king.

Climbing back up Drevan had to hoist the second bundle onto his back to carry it. Even still he almost fell trying to lower it down so big was the size of the head, for that was all that remained of him now.

Averan had been a little more like Drevan. Fire and power, strength and impulse.

Dranar had experienced plenty in his life, seen and heard a great deal. But nothing could have ever prepared him for what Averan’s chimera had been like at the end. The Beast was big yes, and Averan fierce and deadly in Battle. Powerful enough to best any foe, even Lord Asral himself. But when Averan had ceded control and let the Beast take over, for it was plainly clear that it was exactly what had happened, it was evident from the way the Chimera moved and fought, from the way it sounded and attacked. With brutal single-mindedness and an instinctive grace Dranar had never seen matched in a controlled Beast. When he had ceded control nothing seemed to hurt it, nothing seemed to slow it. It had tore, gored and slashed its way around the throne room, leaving four Chimeras in his wake and another dying before limping over to where the throne itself stood. It would have kept fighting then, even so badly hurt it might have continued to attack. Until Alisha….

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When he’d died he had not returned to his human form. He had stayed as the Beast, Averan the young Prince had died sometime before that it seemed. When Sandorn had died perhaps. And yet. Dranar swore that something had remained. Why else would it have allowed Alisha to approach, to stand next to him? To kill it from somewhere it thought safe.

Dranar recalled the moment of pain as the realisation came on the Beast’s face, but not that of the wild Beast it should have been. Dranar had seen the young boy in that moment, a young man broken by a last and final betrayal. The Beast had quickly taken over again though, and it had died in a roar of rage and unacceptance. An animal, savage and untamed.

Alisha had came up beside him, despite Dranar’s protests she seemed to know Averan would not hurt her. The boy must have cared for her. Alisha had waited until they were side by side before she’d plunged her own tail into Averan’s chimera’s eye. The steel tip had drove deep, deep into the skull. Dranar could see the mark it had left. Even a wild Chimera could not survive such a blow. That act had worked to gain Alisha even more favor with the New Order. For her plan and work they had promised her a restoration of the old Family Manor, and a move to the Garnet Houses.

Everything had gone perfectly to plan. Well, almost perfectly. Dranar had heard of everything that had happened in the intervening days since the retaking of the Palace and outer city.

Those loyal to the King had been surrounded immediately upon entering the Foutain Square. The Ballistae they had placed and hoped to ensure a lack of trouble now turned against them. When they arrived the New Order had already transformed themselves and covered every exit.

The five ringleaders would have been tried and executed there and then had it not been for Lady Merida. The elder Lady might have looked frail but had managed to break free of her captors long enough to transform. She didn’t last long, immediately struck down by a litany of bolts. However, in the confusion and with the Ballistae needing to reload Lord Panaer Parandin had managed to break free of his own shackles and make his own transformation. He had lasted long enough, tearing a path for the Lady Liniseh, Lord Yan, and Lord Cendar to escape into it before he was eventually put down. The three had fled to the palace then, and there they had each died. But for all, it was a far better death than the Executioner’s axe which had awaited them.

The New Order were in full control now. Those city guards who had sworn themselves to Aureate had proved better men than he. The Barracks stood no chance of holding out against dozens of Chimeras, yet still they had tried. Commander Wendon and the Cap had died fighting, along with most of the older Captains. It would be some time before the city guard returned to its full strength after such upheaval. Still, the outer city was theirs, just as the Inner city was theirs.

Their power was complete now, more than ever before. After the original removal of the Kings the New Order had gained power, but many secretly harbored hatred of the newer Houses who had risen so far. But even they were now either gone completely or reduced to a nonthreat. There was no one now left to oppose them.

Houses such as Dunedain, and Parandin would be made extinct. Many others would remain but only in name, distant cousins specially chosen would instead be placed as the Heads of Houses. People who would not question or defy the wishes of the New Order.

Dranar finished filling up the grave. The Brothers were together at least. That was something.

Dranar moved to the side where a single purple Clematis stood proud.

He knelt down beside it.

“Imagine if they had taken the Twins Drevan? Was I ever more important than them? No, and nor should I have been. You tried to do what was best for you and your House, back then I tried to do what was best for me and my House. When the New Order took Alisha and threatened my House I did what was best for my House only. That meant betraying you, just as doing what was best for my House meant betraying your sons now.”

Dranar sighed and looked up to the sky, “Betrayal, Drevan. My life’s legacy. No matter how high or how much of our former power is restored I fear it will always be my legacy. A coward and a traitor.”

Dranar took out the knife from his belt. He looked at it.

“A coward and a traitor.” He repeated.

He brought the knife to his neck but paused.

No, not here. My blood would sully that which lies here. Dranar rose slowly back to his feet and began walking towards the cliff. He stopped at its edge. Another step would take him over.

He looked back to where the man he admired most and his two sons lay.

“I am sorry Drevan. I am sorry. Now and always. Forgive me, I had no choice.”

Dranar slashed the blade across his neck, with his last act he fell backwards.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated as he fell.

He knew it meant nothing.

A coward and a traitor.