It was Brekan’s day off, when he acted on his conviction to visit his parents.
The gold of the morning was still licking tentatively at the thin wisps of clouds when he reached the Valley of Fallen Heroes. It was located on the southern slope of the Iskandian Plateau, where instead of falling steeply like everywhere else, it broke into twisting canyons. A large landing area had been created for the Augo ships when Iskana did not yet reach here. Now, however, roads and air routes led directly to the final resting place for all of the Sun Kings fallen.
The square was quiet, not just because of the early morning hours. Brekan crossed it between other Augo ships to a shop that sold flowers and sun wreaths. The bell on the door jingled as he entered.
The shop was small and cozy, filled with the sweet scent of flowers. An elderly woman sat behind the counter, her hands folded in her lap. She looked up at Brekan with a kind smile.
When he entered he also immediately noticed a woman with striking onyx-colored hair streaked with white among the other patrons. Her presence stood out. It was unusual to find this hair color in the Sun Kingdom so Brekan suspected she was a Jinria. Despite the light strands, she didn't look old.
As he perused the flower selection, the shop owner, recognizing the woman, greeted her warmly, 'Ah, Nightjewel, always a pleasure.' Brekan, standing nearby, couldn't help but overhear the unusual name. His curiosity piqued, but he refrained from asking about her.
He only bought a single flower. An Avalis. Traditionally his family's flower for countless generations. The petals were purple like dusk. It was also known as the Flower of Lost Heroes, for those who lost their battles for the Kingdom and were forgotten because no one lived to describe their deeds.
In order for the light to shine, it must consume life, thought Brekan. Would it be his life this time?
A woman's smooth voice said, "A lovely flower."
Brekan turned around and saw Nightjewel's face. She emerged from behind the flower shelves, her crystal violet eyes gleaming and a confident smile playing on her lips.
"The Avalie, I mean," she said. "A good choice."
Brekan was taken aback by her sudden appearance. "Thank you," he said, turning to the shop door.
“May I accompany you,” she asked.
Brekan frowned and looked back over his shoulder. "I'm just going to visit my parents' stele."
The Jinria smiled and said: "And I am visiting my sister."
Brekan hesitated. He didn't know anything about this woman. "Very well," he said.
As they stepped out of the shop the woman said: "My name is 'Nightjewel'."
"Brekan," he replied. "Inquisitor."
The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a faint glow over the airfield. The fresh night air was still and silent.
“Are you from Jinria,” the Inquisitor asked, “we almost never see your kind in the Sun Kingdom.”
Nightjewel hesitated, her gaze drifting off into the distance. "I was born in the country you call Jinria," she said finally.
Brekan was surprised that she had remained silent all the way over the airfield, until they reached the steps to the Valley of Fallen Heroes. A broken land opened up before them. Deep cracks ran steadily downhill through the rock, as if the skin of the earth had burst open. The sun-bleached bones of Hemah and his brood rose from the earth like titanic thorns and walls.
"It is fitting," Nightjewel said, her voice tinged with sadness, "to build the cemetery where the first heroes of the Sun Empire met their unfortunate end."
Brekan frowned. "A glorious end," he said.
"The first ones, perhaps. But not the following generations."
Brekan drilled his gaze into Nightjewel's dark eyes. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.
A hint of a smile played on Nightjewel's lips. "Which valley do you have to go to?"
Brekan said: "Avelia's Valley."
He could see a glimmer of sadness in Nightjewels eyes.
"That's my destination too," she said and began to descend the stairs.
The living monument that was the capital Iskanda gave way to raw rock. Rock walls rose up on both sides, blocking out the sky except for a narrow blue band. The only sound was the creaking of the elevator car as it pulled up the ramp next to the stairs.
Nightjewel turned to Brekan. "What's it like?" she asked. "Being an Inquisitor, I mean."
Brekan was taken aback by her question. He had never really thought about it in those terms before. "It's an honor, of course," he said finally. "We protect the innocent and destroy traitors and the followers of the witches."
Nightjewel nodded. "I know what your work involves," she said. "I wanted to know what it's like for you."
Brekan looked at her confused. He said hesitantly: "It's a challenging job, of course. But everyone in the Sun Kingdom has to do their part for the common good. Isn't it like that in Jinria?"
The woman shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I left a long time ago. Like you, I fought for my country and it almost cost me my life. Then I just left."
They reached the final steps and found themselves in front of a lofty stone gate. The statues of two heroes, their swords raised in defiance, guarded the passage on either side.
Brekan turned to Nightjewel, his eyes narrowed. "You have abandoned your people and country?" he asked. Disgust welled up within him." Disgust welled up within him.
Nightjewel shrugged indifferently. "Jinria didn't care about my happiness or my freedom. All they wanted was my life as the price for its continued existence."
Beyond the gate, a street-wide path wound alongside a quiet river. Brekan started walking, his jaw clenched.
"I would never do something like that," he said over his shoulder. "I would give anything to protect my people."
"Just like your parents did," Nightjewel said softly.
Brekan stopped and turned to face her, his arms crossed over his chest. "Exactly like that," he said coldly.
An older gentleman trotted past them, giving them a curious look.
"Maybe it's better if we go our separate ways," Brekan said. "It's not far and I want to honor my parents."
"I'm sorry if I hit a sensitive spot," Nightjewel said.
Nevertheless, she followed Brekan along the path.
At a hero's shrine, a wooden bridge led over the river and into a side valley. It was one of many thinner ones that ate their way through the valley from here like a net. And right at the beginning of the valley the first steles appeared. Staggered and lined up on the slopes, they stood between night moss and filled the valley. Thin paths created a fine network of paths so that remote steles could also be reached. In the middle of the canyon stood the statue of heroine Avelia on a pedestal. Founder of the Inquisition. And one of the survivors in the fight against Hemah.
Nightjewel still followed here. Only when Brekan approached his parents' stele did the Jinria stand a step away.
The inquisitor placed the flower in the moss. Dew wetted the petals where they touched the herb. He placed his hand on the long gravestone. It was simple, without ornamentation or symbols. Modest, like his parents themselves.
He took a step back and looked at their names, which were engraved lengthwise: Kilera. Boran.
"Who were your parents?" Nightjewel asked, her voice gentle.
Brekan inhaled deeply, the humid air of the valley filling his lungs. He exhaled slowly, then answered, "My father was captain of the guard. He died in the last Witch Storm, when he and his unit were ambushed by cultists at night. My mother died shortly after in the attack on the Natora Halls. She was a kindergarten teacher, working just across the street. The explosion was too powerful. Only four children were rescued alive from the rubble."
Brekan closed his eyes, remembering the shouts of the guardsmen and the screams of civilians. The crackling of flames danced before his eyes, a blurry vision of fire and dust. "I was one of those children," he whispered. He looked at Nightjewel, his eyes burning with determination. "I will hunt them until either they or I are dead."
For a long moment they were both silent.
"You're here for your sister," Brekan said finally.
Nightjewel nodded, her gaze fixed on the statue of Avelia. "Yes," she said. "But there is no gravestone for her here."
"Because she's a Jinria," Brekan said. He knew that people of foreign origin were always returned to their homeland. "Then why did you come to this graveyard?"
Nightjewel turned to him, her eyes sparkling with intensity. "I love it here," she said. "This place is the transitional area between civilization and nature. And between the living and the dead." She spread her arms wide. "I am a border crosser. Don't you also feel touched by this connection, this gateway to freedom? Just one step?"
"You're strange," Brekan said, his voice tinged with confusion.
Nightjewel smiled faintly. "Perhaps," she said. "But I'm not wrong."
Brekan took a deep breath. "I have to go back," he said. "A new Witch Storm is coming, and it's my duty to stop it."
Nightjewel's eyes narrowed. "Until another one brews up?" she asked. "And again and again, with new lives being blown away? How many Storms have there already been?"
Brekan hesitated. "Since the beginning," he said finally. "Too many."
"And when will the battle be won?" Nightjewel asked.
Brekan looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "This is the last time," he said quietly. "I'll make sure of that."
There was a hint of pity in Nightjewel's eyes. "Then it will be the last Storm," she said. "Or not. When you get tired of fighting and sacrificing, you know where to find me."
She turned and walked away, leaving Brekan alone in front of his parents' stele.
He watched her go, his heart heavy. He knew she was right. The Witch Storms had been raging for generations.
It has to end, he thought. No more children losing their parents. A kingdom free from fear. People who no longer have to sacrifice themselves so that the light of others can continue to shine.
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The door to the office slammed open and Leutnant Hanu stormed in. He looked at Brekan and Joven who were waiting and said: “Emergency. Get ready.”
Brekan and Joven grabbed their gear and followed their lieutenant out the door. They rushed to the hangar, where their Augo transport ship was waiting. Brekan and Joven jumped into the back of the ship while Hanu started the engines. They had to close the hatch before the ship was even fully airborne.
"We have a hostage situation on the Square of Heroes," Hanu barked from the cockpit. "Multiple dead. The city guard has already cleared the square and surrounded the cultists."
Brekan and Joven exchanged a serious look.
"Eight cultists," their lieutenant continued. "Armed."
Brekan took a deep breath and placed his hand on the small Sun Codex in his chest pocket.
After a few minutes of flight, the Augo slowed down. Even before the ship landed, Joven opened the hatch and both men jumped out. The Augo landed behind them, and they rushed through the opening made by the guard and the onlookers. A crowd of angry citizens had gathered outside the square, their own blades drawn. The guard was holding them back, but they were restless. Brekan could understand their anger. Innocent hostages were involved.
This is where we come in, Brekan thought.
Brekan saw the cultists huddled together under the largest hero statue on the square, the one of the Sun King himself. When they saw Brekan and Joven approach, they panicked.
They know their hostages are useless now, Brekan concluded.
A cultist with his blade pressed to the throat of an old man and a little boy shouted, "Stop! I'm going to kill them!" His voice trembled with fear.
Brekan and Joven drew their blades. Brekan's gaze met the old man's. The old man gripped the boy tighter, his expression grim but fearless. He nodded knowingly.
Brekan felt a surge of pride, but it was without joy or satisfaction. This old man was ready to die for the Sun Kingdom, if it meant killing these traitors. The boy didn't cry, but youthful fear shimmered in his eyes. The old man whispered something in his ear, and the boy nodded.
If I’m quick, maybe I can save them, Brekan thought. But he also knew that no one could be fast enough if the cultist was truly determined to kill them.
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Brekan and Joven didn't slow their advance. In fact, they started to sprint. The cultist plunged his sword into the old man's heart. The boy didn't flinch.
"I'm serious! Stop!" the cultist screamed.
Brekan instinctively knew that Joven could handle the cultists on his left, so he focused on the hostage-taker, who was now pushing his sword into the boy's chest.
"She's going to obliterate you!" the cultist screamed.
He didn't have time to raise his weapon before Brekan beheaded him.
Brekan fell to his knees and cradled the boy's head in his lap. The boy was still alive, but his skin was pale and his breath was coming in shallow gasps. He couldn't have been older than ten.
"I'm gonna be with the heroes," the boy whispered.
Brekan wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement. He nodded anyway. "You're going to be with the great heroes Avelia and Lyn," he said. "They're waiting for you in the Hero Realm."
The boy smiled faintly and closed his eyes.
Brekan cleared his throat and blinked away the tears in his eyes. He carefully placed the boy's body back on the pavement and stood up. He scanned the square and saw one last cultist huddled against the base of the Sun King's statue. The others had already been killed by Joven. The cultist whimpered, looking for an escape route. Brekan slowly walked towards him.
"Help me, Witch Queen!" the cultist wailed.
Brekan thrust his sword into the cultist's chest, eliciting a howl of pain. The cultist's eyes widened in despair and mortal agony. He gargled for a moment, then went limp on Brekan's blade.
When Brekan pulled his sword out, the cultist didn't fall to the ground. Instead, he raised his head and stared at Brekan with ruby eyes.
"Thank you, my queen," the man said.
Brekan's heart sank. He had seen this before. The cultist's flesh exploded and peeled back, revealing a bird monster beneath. But this time, Brekan saw with terror that he wasn't alone. The other cultists, whom he had thought dead, were also transforming.
Brekan just had time to raise his blade before the bird claws on the wings slashed out for him. The beak opened and the Inquisitor ducked down. He used the time the creature was busy to spew black flames to shove it to the side and retreated instantly.
Side by side with Joven he walked backwards. The other bird monsters grouped up, their beady red eyes gleaming with murderous intent.
Brekan grabbed a crystal grenade with his free hand, activated it, and pulled the pin with his teeth. He tossed it at the bird beasts, who watched it land in front of them without flinching. The grenade exploded in a flash of fire and splinters, but the creatures emerged from the wreckage barely damaged.
Suddenly, there was a screeching buzz and hiss. Light flashed, momentarily blinding Brekan. When his vision cleared, he saw one of the Witch Beasts cut in half. Another lay behind it with a gaping hole in its torso and lower body. It fell to the ground, the wound sizzling and smoking.
Brekan followed a dark line on the ground with his gaze. It led directly from the dead monsters to something behind him.
When Brekan found the source, he was relieved. It was a Templar, its arm raised and its light cannon aimed at the other Witch Beasts.
Gleaming sunlight reflected from its armor and the glowing white crystal in its chest hummed. It was so white it could have been a drop of the sun itself. In the Templar's other hand, it carried a sword whose blade was made of a pale material that looked like bleached bone.
A smooth female voice said: “Fall back, we are gonna relieve you of this threat.”
It came from a female Agent who stepped out from behind the Templar. A confident smile peeked out from under the white hood.
Brekan and Joven sheathed their weapons while the armor-clad warrior stomped past them, firing another light beam at the shrieking Witch Beasts. The beam struck one of the creatures in the chest, exploding in a flash of light and feathers. The bird monster fell to the ground, dead.
“This way!” Leutnant Hanu shouted. He was waiting for them at the Augo.
“Good work,” he said when they reached him.
Brekan looked over his shoulder and watched the Templar pluck one of the attacking bird monsters out of the air with his light cannon arm. It smashed the enemy to the ground, breaking the pavement open.
Hanu pat Brekan on the shoulder and said: “It has been a long time since I have seen one of those. In the last Witch Storm.”
Joven said: “So it’s already beginning.”
Brekan felt the grip on his shoulder tightening.
Hanu said: “Yes. That means our duty just got more dangerous and deadlier.”
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Today was the day of Sari's Ordination and the end of Brekan's normal relationship with her. He stepped into the Temple of Heroes, enveloped in the warm embrace of the sun and the gentle breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers.
Brekan had been granted special leave by High Inquisitor Khurin so that he could attend Sari's Ordination. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, savoring the blissful atmosphere of the temple. He was dressed in formal civilian attire, clean blue pants and a light white shirt that could be laced from the chest up.
Melodic notes danced upon the wind as children frolicked in the expansive open square before the atrium. Their laughter and playful shrieks echoed through the surroundings. The statue of Lova and the muses looked over them, while their parents and other adults sought shelter under the shade of white cloth sunscreens.
Through the openings on each side of the white walls, Brekan caught glimpses of cool spacious rooms packed with long tables and benches. The air floating out of there carried the mingling aroma of fresh bread and aromatic herbs, enticing Brekan's senses.
Yet, amidst the revelry, Brekan's thoughts were fixated on a singular purpose. He was here only for the Muse Ordination, a momentous occasion that marked the transition of every young woman into official muses. Just as mostly men joined the guard or military, dedicating themselves to the protection of the realm, some women embarked on a path of becoming sources of inspiration and guidance for the people.
Brekan's heart swelled with pride as he witnessed his people embracing this tradition, recognizing the profound impact the Muses had on the community. It was a testament to the collective spirit of the Sun Kingdom's denizens, a commitment to the uplifting and nurturing of the human spirit through the arts of the Muses.
However, amidst the sea of faces, Brekan sought one in particular. He was not only here to partake in the festivities, but to celebrate a significant moment in the life of Sari, the woman who had captured his heart and whose dream had always been to become a muse. Today was the day that marked the culmination of her training and dedication.
Brekan's steps quickened as he made his way towards the center of the celebration. Today was a day of love, laughter, and new beginnings. Yet his heart didn't beat with joy. Today was also the day their shared lives parted.
Brekan knew about the strict and rigorous rules that governed the muses. From this day forward, Sari would be confined within the walls of her covenant. Their interactions would be limited to formal settings within the context of their work at the temple, as teachers, nurses, or heads of social institutions.
As Brekan contemplated, a familiar voice called out his name. It was Sari, her radiant smile illuminating his mind. She walked up to him, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him gently into one of the large rooms. Inside the celebrations still unfolded, but the space provided a quiet retreat from the crowd outside.
Brekan's eyes met Sari's, and a cascade of emotions boiled within him. Relief washed over him, knowing that even bound through upcoming strict conventions, their connection remained strong.
They retreated to the end of the room, where there was space without listening ears.
With a tender smile, Sari leaned closer. "Are you worried what's going to happen with us from now on?" she asked.
Brekan nodded, unable to speak.
"I'm not going to lie to you," Sari said. "This is going to be challenging. For both of us."
They held each other close. Brekan savored this moment of intimacy. It convinced him even stronger that he had to do everything to protect her from the upcoming darkness.
Sari said: “If you asked me to, I would cancel my ordination at this very moment and run with you far away from all of this.”Sari said, "If you asked me to, I would cancel my ordination at this very moment and run with you far away from all of this."
For a single moment, Brekan's heart soared at the thought of being with Sari, cut off from all the doom and death waiting in the future. Away from duty and submission. He felt a longing to embrace her offer, to seize the chance at a future where their love could flourish without boundaries.
Recalling the horrors of the bird creatures and the Kioni he had to fight, Brekan's expression turned serious. He glanced around, ensuring that their conversation remained shrouded in secrecy, and then told Sari the truth.
"A new Witch Storm is brewing," he said. "I have seen the terrors they plan to unleash upon the innocents of Iskanda. I have to protect you. And them."
Sari repeated, her eyes narrowing slightly, "Protect me?" She asked, "If you wouldn't need to have to protect me, would you still try to protect the people with the same zeal?"
Brekan hesitated to answer for a moment. He was confused as to why she even asked. Shouldn't his answer be obvious? "It was the duty of my parents and is now my duty."
Brekan got even more confused when a mysterious smile graced her face. She clutched his hand tightly, her grip infused with surprising strength.
"That's all I wanted-no, needed to hear," she said.
Once again Brekan felt the muses energy flow through his hand into him.
The tolling bells from the Atrium reverberated through the air, casting a somber ambiance upon their parting.
Sari said, "I have to go. It's starting soon." With a yearning glance, she let go of him and made her way to the door to the temple courtyard.
When Sari disappeared into the midst of the gathering and cheering crowd, Brekan was consumed by an overwhelming sense of desolation. Every fiber of his being yearned to rise, to chase after her, to defy the duty and boundaries that fate had placed upon them. Yet he remained rooted to his spot, like an immovable mountain. With his head bowed, he couldn't help but recall the lingering love and power that had streamed through his veins at the touch of Sari's hand.
"There is only one way to protect her," he whispered to himself, the words laden with both conviction and yearning. "I must stop the Storm before it even starts."
I'm going to kill the Witch Queen, he thought. Before she can even start the storm.
When the bells rang a second time, Brekan emerged from the confines of the hall, stepping into the sun-kissed courtyard. Upon the marble steps to the entrance of the atrium stood the Head Muse in flowing white robes. Her golden locks danced in the wind, radiating ethereal beauty despite her age. Beside her stood on each side a woman to be ordained, including Sari.
The Head Muse raised her hand and the crowd fell silent. She spoke in a clear, melodious voice that carried to the farthest reaches of the yard. "Today, we celebrate the ordination of new muses," she said. "Sari Wolkan, come forward."
Sari stepped down and then knelt before the Head Muse. The old woman placed her hands on Sari’s head and the crowd erupted into cheers.
She is a fully-fledged muse now, Brekan thought. Her destiny being an idol to inspire and uplift people. Now out of his reach forever.
Not forever, he thought, his head lowered and eyes closed.
He closed his eyes and forged an oath in his heart. I will kill the Witch Queen and marry Sari, he thought. But I can't tell her yet. The task is almost impossible and I might die. I don't want to give her false hope.
He looked up at the statue of the great heroine Lova. The heroine of love and compassion.
The bell tolled a third time.