《Shadows of the Night》


 Chapter 1: A Shadow of the Night

    Sai


    Sometime between now and then.


    Summer days were long, and the harvest was gruelling for many but not for Sai. He preferred the burn of the sun to the winds of winter. Moreover, summer meant he could eat and be at least half full for each meal. Although this may be true, it was still hard to work when the sun was high and scorching the fields dry.


    The air was heavy and arid; Sai''s tunic pasted across his back, sweat-soaked fabric sticking to every slight contour of his small muscles. His breath was graver with each intake of air; it was only midday, but he already felt his arms burn as he continued to swing his sickle across the wheat. Another sack, he thought with each swing. The thought never stopped. Just a little more, he urged himself.


    "Oi ya coming to eat, boy!" It was an exclamation rather than a question.


    Sai looked up and saw Voll leaning on the big serpent-shaped oak tree, the only shade for what seemed like miles. The older man was taking conkrerk fruit out of his pocket and halving it before taking a bite out of one of the half. Sai''s dry mouth salivated as he whiffed the sweet, tangy fragrance of the fruit.


    Voll was an old man; like Sai, he had no family nor anything to his name. Sai always found himself wondering whether, in the years to come, he would be like Voll. Old, lonely and living day by day. He shook his head, wanting to deny its possibilities; he needed something more to live on. Why else would he want to live if dying would be much easier?


    Sai noticed himself licking his dry lips; he had not noticed his hunger, or at least he tried not to, so he answered the old man, "No, I''ll carry on."


    They were paid not by the hour but by how much they brought in. The pay was menial, but it was one of the only ways a young boy like him could get any job. Besides, he had no food to bring, so he thought he could work the hours instead of sitting idle and wasting precious time.


    "Yer, a good lad," Voll said, his tone dismissive; it wasn''t a compliment but a statement made without much thought. The others also dropped their tools and took to the shade to sit and replenish their energy with food.


    Sai nodded once, lifted his sickle, and hacked at the wheat. He hated the way the others looked at him with their prying eyes, ones filled with amusement and, even worse, some with pity.


    Sai thought they should reserve pity for themselves since they were practically in the same place as him. He did not need to voice this out; it would only waste his breath and energy. Let them feel how they do; he will mind his business as he has done so many times before.


    He was too busy to mind anything but the work before him. He had already filled three sacks of wheat grains thus far, and they would only finish once the sunset. He could fill a few more and be paid well; paid well meant he could have a meal and access to an inn''s stable. The summer sun may be scorching during the day, but nights came with southerly winds from the forever snowcapped Alps of Aldonah. Those winds were brutal and merciless.


    But still, Sai could only hope that, for now, the wind would bring some cloud to be his shade, or he might just pass out.


    The sun had well set by the time they heard the wheels of the wagon approach, and many were visibly angry. Heavy groans were let up, and sighs of relief were released. All their muscles ache, and their heads pounded from the constant heat. Drenched in sweat, they were more than tired and ready to leave the fields. It didn''t help that everyone had started noticing that the pickup for the wagon had gotten later and later as each day passed.


    It was one of the ways they got the most out of their workers, working them past the hours of the light and getting more harvested before the fall. Sai was fine working, but the others had families waiting for them. He had no such thing.


    Although he admits that working when it was dark was more dangerous and laborious, they could only work where the lanterns shone, and oil was not cheap either. He thought bitterly that their employer''s belief that this was not a luxury worth spending on their likes was degrading and cheap. So, in the dark, they worked, which meant that some could not avoid certain injuries, such as cuts and scrapes from their own tools. They had to adapt and learn to work with not only their bodies but also wielding dangerous sickles as they pulled and cut at the wheat.


    Sai started preparing the sacks he had collected, his mouth curving upwards when he saw seven bags full of grain. He was rolling them one by one to the side of the road when he noticed one of the men stare him down with covetous eyes. He flung one of Sai''s sacks across his back, taking it to his section without another glance towards a flabbergasted Sai.


    "Hey! You''ve taken one of mine", Sai yelled out, running back towards his pile, but he noticed two others approaching the other sacks he lined up, ready for pickup. So he started running towards them and saw the first man with his load turn, giving the other men a sly, knowing smile. Sai spotted three others emerging from the tall wheatgrass. He knew they, too, had bad intentions.


    "Wait, those are my harvest, "Sai shouted as he ran back towards the three men.


    He desperately called out to anyone who might notice the injustice and help him. Finally, he reached the closest man and tried to pull the sack on his back. But the man was much bigger and stronger; he only had to turn and push him with a shove before Sai was sprawled on the ground.


    Sai couldn''t let them take his hard-earned money just that easily, so he jumped on top of the guy and tried to yank the sack out of his grasp, punching at his clutched hands and anything he could reach. Sai''s knuckles were throbbing from the punches, but the man finally let up with a yelp.


    "Ahh! Ya son of a whore!" The burly man yelled from the ground before pushing up to stand.


    Sai had noticed that the knot had loosened on the sack, and some grain was spilling out from the opening. Unfortunately, he mistakenly turned his back to the man to tighten the sack and was hit in the head. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Sai dropped to the side with a loud thud, but it seemed that he had angered the man enough that he continued to assail him with kicks and punches.


    Still in Sai''s hands were clutching the loosened sack, and its contents continued to spill and pour as the assailant continued to pummel him to a pulp. Sai could only hold on to the emptied canvas sack as the grains flew and rained with each pounding of the man''s hard fist. It covered his bloodstained body. It felt almost ironically symbolic that the grain he tried to protect was now bestrewned and stained by his own blood.


    The man''s fist came down like a hammer on a nail. With each blow, a crack sounded. A dull thumping sounded with every punch. Sai''s mouth pooled with blood, and his outcries drowned out into gurgles.


    "Help...someone...any-" It was a meek cry from Sai''s bloodied mouth. A mixture of saliva and blood dribbling onto his chin, he looked like a wounded animal flailing around weakly, desperate to escape its predator. No one took pity on him.


    Sai could no longer hold up his arms. They dropped and left his chest and face open for the assault. Finally, when the man started to slow and get off his body, Sai could take a painful breath of air. But his assailant was not done after he had gotten up. He lifted his boots high and stumped at Sai''s body thrice. Perhaps it was for good luck. Sai thought scourly.


    "Come on, let us leave the wagon will leave yer arse behind. You''ll have to walk all the way home, and yer missus..." An amused voice came from above. Sai could not decipher the rest as his head pounded and throbbed. He could only crouch down like a babe cradling his bloodied body into the ground.


    When the man finally exerted his last bouts of anger, he spat on Sai and cursed him again. Ridiculing him, calling him stupid and selfish and a son of every profanity he could throw and all for not sharing his share. If anything was unfair, it was to him, not them.


    The wagon was even closer now. Sai could almost feel the thumping of the horses'' hooves like his heartbeat pounding hard and fast. He felt its vibration ring through his head. A whole bunch more nonsense insults was what he heard before the world went dark.


    Time must have elapsed before his eyes opened. He ached everywhere. He had always thought the dry air was hard to breathe, but it was now even more arduous. He tried to get up but failed to, the pain in his chest spreading from his lungs to his shoulders. He could only flip himself to his side before falling on his face, but that was not without agony and excruciating pain. Sai''s face was plastered on the dirt; he was breathing it in but could not make himself care.


    He counted to three under his breath, putting both his hands in front of his head, wanting to lift himself to sit upright. Instead, he fell on his first attempt, hitting the bridge of his nose on the ground. Crack, another broken thing, he grunted in frustration, tears stinging his eyes. He did not want to cry. No, he could not afford to cry, not when the world had beaten him down.


    Maybe later, when in solitude, he''ll allow himself to feel sympathy for himself and blame the gods for how his life turned out, but he knew there was no such thing as a God. They were all alone in this world. He could only blame his carelessness and weakness.


    Sai had many failed attempts, but he was not one to give up. Some would call it foolishness, and others would call it sheer determination. After a while, he realised he was hurting himself far more than helping himself. So he lay there and took a moment to rest and process what had transpired. Looking back, it was not a determination that warranted his attempts to get back up but anger and wanton for revenge. He hungered for blood, and nothing else will satiate it.


    From where he laid his head, he could see the spilled grains scattered around him. It made him feel so angry but most of all anguished. If he had the energy, he would have mourned every grain wasted.


    Thinking about the amount of money he lost, no stolen from him, it would have been enough to pay for a week''s worth of board at the local inn, albeit it''ll only be the barn; still, it was a roof above his head and shelter from the cold. It was true it would not have gotten him anything grand, but he was still proud that his efforts would have changed some of his difficult life circumstances.


    The sharp pain from his sides and chest didn''t dissipate. He already suspected it when he had heard cracks and felt blood pool at his mouth when the other man was beating down at him. But now he was sure he was bleeding from not only the cuts on his body but also his inside. He can go race down and get a healer from town, which is miles away and can''t afford, or he''ll die. Sai''s face scrunched in misery. He knew which of the two was more likely than the other.


    Sai had lived a pathetic life thus far, and to go like this made it even more so, but he could not complain; no one would hear it anyway. He turned his face to the side, trying to ease the pain of breathing. It helped, but only so little. As he did so, something red close by came into his view. He had to squint and blink many times before recognising it as half of a Conkert fruit.


    Voll, the man who had as much as he did, maybe even less, had pitied him enough to give his leftover fruit but did not have enough pity to help him while he was beaten mercilessly.


    Sai could not blame the man for not having the courage to step up. Life did that to those who started with nothing like himself and Voll. It takes away your endurance and bravery to live until you find yourself old and existing for nothing. He reached for the fruit; it took effort, but he did so, and when it was in his clutches, he held on to it tightly in his palm. Its juices flowed out and onto his clothes.


    With this loathsome pity, a realisation of his impending death came. The pain from his body had started to disperse, not quite that, but it began to feel numb instead. A pool of warmth swept through every fibre of his body; his bones had melded into liquid, his flesh shifting into heavy wax. He was on the brink of taking his last breath. Yet he could not feel anything but more anger. He did not feel the peace that death should have brought upon him, which had been described by others. It was with this anger that he let tears flow down his face. They came in floods and streaked his face with blood and dirt. It made it harder to breathe, but who cared at that point? It may very well be his last, he had thought. Sai wanted to make each one worthy by imbuing it with emotions he made himself seal away long ago.


    Sai knew that the magic of Ethralme had long passed with the death of the last King''s star centuries before his birth, or at least its myths and legends have. Nevertheless, he had wanted to make a wistful preach of a dying man. Others may have described it more as a desperate appeal. So, he whispered his final words to the made-up Gods.


    "Why have you made my trial so hard?" Sai cried out the question to the bleak and dark sky, which was greeted by the silence of the night. He continued, "I wish to take no more part in this sick game you call life. It has been cruel and harsh." Sai became more enlightened as he crossed closer to the afterlife. In Elthrame, it was believed that if one''s trial was met and conquered in their first life, then they get to live in their second more lavishly. Sai did not want more life. He had wanted nothing but more in this life and was met with nothing. So he could not fathom living another. Good or bad, he was tired.


    "Why couldn''t I have more? "His last words came one by one, accompanied by a gruntled inhale, a whisper, a desperate plea. His eyes started to drift to a close, but before they did, he saw a glimpse of a burning light shot across the sky above him. An exploding lantern or perhaps a bursting star, the former was a common occurrence in his lifetime and the latter he had only seen once when he was much younger and in a time much warmer.


    It was beautiful and bright, poetic in a way. He could only smile at the Gods and their last joke on him, but he accepted it anyway.


    He may have had nothing in all his miserable life, for he was nothing but a mere and insignificant person. A figment of a being, not quite fleshed out whole, just existing. A small part of the shadow of the night, but tonight, the stars shone on him and only him.

 Chapter 2: Monsters of Elthralme

    Janir


    Here and now.


    Rumours were flying everywhere; Elthralme''s magic was weakening, and those of the great houses scrambled to maintain the power that had upheld their positions. They had also started to spread the idea that the Drifters would have a chance to rule.


    "As if" Janir could only mentally scoff at the ridiculous tales run by the council of Mestrayeh.


    A council of nobodies. They wanted people to panic and cause a stir within his people''s ranks. That in itself was laughable since it was impossible. No Drifter can compete with an Arucanian. It was a distinction between demigods and humans.


    So these people made the Mestraye, a union that helped to civilise and unite the division between the two beings. It was a way for those who held no power to be heard, for most parts suffered by Drifters. Although the group mainly consisted of Drifters, the low-born Arucanains represented them in their own council. Did they genuinely have a say in how they were represented? Janir found himself pondering the irony.


    It was fair to say that no righteous and noble blood would think to desecrate their honour and prestige by being associated with such unions. Low-born Arucanains were sometimes called Halflings by nobles and royalty, and this was all because they weren''t born into nobility; it didn''t matter that they wielded the power of The Reddarks¡ªthe true gods.


    Although the Halflings'' birth status indicates they were born with none, their abilities still separate them from the Drifters and how they are treated. This meant that with this power, they could climb the ranks of nobility. After all, titles can be earned, magic not so much.


    Janir could not relate. How could he? He had lived his whole life as the sole heir of his family''s title as one of the Pillars Adrovi. So why fight to climb when he was already at the top.


    Arucanians had bodies and souls built to wield power to pull and bend the aether of their plane into magic. Transforming what needed to be changed, his people created the society to be what it was. An empire that could withstand a hundred thousand years and will do so for more.


    Although most Arucanians would deny their linked ancestry with the Drifters to the first men, it was undeniably apparent that they were only lucky that when the war between the Reddark Gods and the Onhor Gods commenced, the Arucanians were on the winning side. And for this victory, they were awarded the powers of the heavens.


    The Drifters, however, were abandoned, with nothing to defend themselves with and were left entirely mundane. No gift of strength or speed, their bodies decaying to mere sickness and disease before their eyes. Relying on food for sustenance, for they could not draw life from the aethers in the air they breathed or the ground they stood over. As a result, they were weak and vulnerable, easily oppressed by their lackings. The Arucanians ruled and flourished for centuries, assuming the place of the long-departed Gods. Men became gods that day.


    But somehow, Janir could not help but think that they were free even in their pathetic state. Free to choose their life.


    Though that word does not entirely define their situation, their freedom did not exactly exempt their struggles from their own circumstances, such as having lands and high societal rankings, giving the Arucanian privileges beyond imagination. Although this was true in hindsight, the Drifters were not bound to the responsibilities of being a power wielder. Because they, the Arucanians, much like the Drifters, are slaves, but to the power they hold.


    The Drifters were free from these responsibilities that shackled the Arucanians. Apparently, even those with magic had trouble upholding their duties. At least, this was how it felt for Janir.


    To maintain this power, they upheld themselves to the gods'' standards, but they were only fools playing the game that was life. They laugh at the Drifters and the direness of being powerless, yet they are in constant war among other nations and empires for their people to remain on top. They have even turned on each other. The greatest Empire that Elthralme has ever known, Ardovi, was in a silent civil war among its rulers. Janir, although a young boy, had seen it over; even amongst his own family, this was an evident struggle.


    Fathers killing their sons and brothers killing their brothers, mothers killing their healthy daughters whilst praying for another child, a son. So many families fall, and another rises in its wake. It does not matter who sits at the top; as long as there is a ladder, the rest climb and work to depose those who sit on top. These were the rules of their world, Ethralme, kill or be killed. And none, not even an Arucanian, could transgress against them.


    It was a tiring cycle. One Janir intends to break out of. When Janir becomes a ruling lord, he plans to break this rigid cycle and become the Kaiser who rules not for years but for centuries to come. Then there will be no ladder for when he rules. There will only be him atop.


    But before all that, he had to compete with the other eleven contenders. Twelve contenders, if the royal line was included in the mix, though, honestly, they were figureheads, merely there to submit to the true rulers of this Ardovi and the rest of Elthralme, the Twelve.


    Janir would like to think that it was unfortunate that he had such tough competition replacing the eleven current sacred rulers, but honestly speaking, it made him even more excited. Winning the title of Kaiser is one thing, but to say that he beat out the most tenacious of all contenders in the tens of hundreds of generations that have participated will be his legacy. And it would make his father, the current Kaiser, leader of the Twelve, proud.


    Janir could only smile as he thought of the future. The future that he hoped would come sooner rather than later. But he was only in his young teenage years. There will be more opportunities to show his skills, but for now, he must consider representing his family to the best of his abilities. If he must be cordial, he will be; if asked to bow to the elders, he shall.


    "Are you ready, my son?" A gentle voice interrupts his musing. He hadn''t heard any knocking on his door.


    He turned away from the grand windows of his room to face his mother; she was dressed in layers of soft silken chiton that draped past her skirt and billowed with the movements of the wind; she looked as polished as the cadence of her voice.


    An angel descended from above. At least, that was how people have described her.


    "I only need a moment, Lady Telram", he answered, his voice clipped and curt, maintaining a polite tone.


    If it was not clear to anyone how close the two were, they would have guessed with how he greeted his mother with icy indifference. An indifference one gives not a stranger but an enemy or, perhaps even worse, a fouled friend.


    She took another step forward towards Janir.


    He stared hard at her approach. It mimicked a prey cornered by the predator. It was brief, but Janir saw it, her, smiling deeply. It reached up to her eyes, but it held no warmth that one would associate with mothers. His mouth turned downwards, and his brows furrowed. She, perhaps, was pleased at the discomfort she brought him.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "I see that you have been out in town", she stated simply.


    Janir held his breath, only letting it out once she stopped a couple of steps away from where he stood before changing her course of action and heading straight past him and towards the window where he stood before.


    Janir stood frozen, trying to figure out how to respond. How did she know?


    No one had seen him sneak out, and he had been back before anyone could enter his room, let alone be seen by his mother, whose primary residence was the west wing, a complete opposite from where he lived. A residence in which she never leaves, at least not to merely check up on her son''s affairs.


    "Ahem," Janir cleared his throat.


    He was about to tell a fib, but the glacial gaze his mother had halted him from doing so, and instead, he decided to tell the truth or at least some of it, "Yes, I did; there have been rumours circulating-" He stated, gauging for her reaction. If she did react, then she made sure not to show it.


    "- you, see, they were strange and damning to us, to our people." He stated. His voice sounded like the rambles of a child; he hated that.


    Janir continued when she said nothing, "It''s about the magic, the magic... our magi-"


    "There are always rumours circulating, my dear", his mother elegantly remarked, interrupting his speech. "most are fabricated falsehoods people tell themselves to feel much better about their own situation," her eyes piercing grey regard, no emotions, not even contempt. Something she was used to showing him.


    "Now," she paused and walked straight to him, stopping so they were face to face and only a few breaths away. The hairs on Janir''s arm stood to attention, aware of every movement she took.


    "I. Do. Not. Want. To. Hear of your explorations in the Sub-terrains, not from you, and especially not from outsiders, common nobodies of the Drachis estate. You are a member of the Twelve, so do not lower yourself and your name. That would be far more damning than anything you''ll hear from the scurring mouths of rats and vermins."


    The Twelve, Janir''s lips curled in a slight scowl, angered by his mother''s words and himself for his own continued ignorance.


    It was both an honour and a stigma to carry such a title. Though only a select few in this world will be born an Arucanian, and even fewer can say they are of noble birth amongst the group, so to be one of the Twelve is, in a way, mystically rare. Rare enough that there are only twelve in this world, Janir reflected, embarrassed by his carelessness.


    It is so arcane that only those bearing the Holy Artefacts can be part of this assembly.


    They were the twelve original families who fought on the Reddark God''s side. They were gifted with artefacts that held unique magic of their own and were passed down from generation to generation.


    These have remained the same family throughout the hundreds of centuries that have gone and passed. Although he did not want to admit it, it was true what his mother had said; he could not tarnish his reputation without tarnishing that of his family and the Houses of the Twelve. He will be careful, Janir thought seriously. No, he will be cautious from now on. A simple slip can mean a huge downfall.


    Janir''s eyes narrowed as he nodded his head in agreement.


    But it got him thinking about how he often sneaks out, and while he made his way to the centre of town, he used the abandoned wing of the Drachis estate to do so. It was the part of town no one ventured to as it was known to be cursed and doomed. But to Janir, it made for the perfect spot to hide his trails and sneak away without the prying eyes of others.


    So, learning that his mother knew of his exploits in town made him weary of what else she knew about him. He thought about exactly where he had frolicked and explored. He hoped that her knowledge was only as deep as knowing that he had snuck away from their estate.


    "Yes, mother," he simply answered, not wanting more lectures.


    He''ll have to find another way to get around, and he will not stop. His need to explore will not be deterred by this incident; he just needed to be more stealthy in his exploits. Janir was conniving enough that it didn''t worry him too much, but he would have to be cautious of his mother''s prying eyes, at least for a while.


    A moment had passed before he noticed that his mother was no longer in his room and realised that she had been there to heed a warning, one he would be wise to follow.


    Though Janir has been praised for his genius magic talents, many don''t know that it was usually fuelled by his reckless ambitions to explore the unknown. The Sub-terrain and Drachis estate was part of the unknown, where strange dark arts are performed, and wild rumours fly. It was incredibly enticing to a curious young man like himself.


    That was where rumours like magic dying and the powerful seats of the High lords crumbling started. Or at least that was what he had initially thought until he, himself, went and investigated.


    Janir was far from superstitious, but as a magic wielder, he had long felt the strangeness of the sphere, and the infrequent surges and fluctuations of the magic flow were enough for him to investigate what was causing it.


    He was sure it was not only him who had sought answers and clues as to why the strangeness started.


    So far, he knew that this rumour had not come from the Drifters of the terrains or any Drifter, for that matter, but was instead started by a foreign Arucanian. Someone from outside of the Ardovi Empire.


    A mystery man or woman of some sort. One that seeks to gain the power and authority of one of the Twelve. It was an incredulous idea by anyone''s standard. Still, Janir knew he needed to be the one to solve this mystery because no one had ever been able to rally the Drifters and Arucanians, even if they were low-born, ever in their long-standing history. That feat alone was nothing to scoff at.


    The line between those who wielded power and those who didn''t was starting to blur with this alliance. Although Janir wasn''t an elitist, he knew those social structures stood for something.


    A society of anarchy is one full of chaos and madness. Two critical ingredients for a catastrophic war.


    Perhaps if he could come up with answers, it would boost his reputation. A good reputation was one of the qualities that make you a Kaiser, so why not start there, he thought.


    He must have stood there pondering and scheming about everything he learnt from the Sub-terrains before a clear baritone voice broke through the silence. Another intruder in Janir''s space interrupted his pondering, and he was aggravated by the fact. He was the young master of his House. When will people respect that fact?


    "My lord, the meeting will commence soon; it''s best to leave now so we make it in time" A reminder rather than a command, his estates chief of commander, Eskir Stughfen, stated.


    Eskir was a loyal subject of House Telram. He had ranked highly in the Fields of Woe during his squire days, and with that achievement, he had the honour of serving one of the twelve houses should they choose him. ''


    Janir''s father, Jashas, had chosen him.


    "And what about the duke, my father?" Janir asked, trying to sound nonchalant or even bored with his tone.


    "His sire left the estate for urgent business in the Northern Alps," Eskir answered accordingly, composed with a calmness that comes from years of practice.


    "And what of the meeting?" Janir asked the man, trying to sound mature and serious, his brows furrowing in confusion and slight panic.


    He had been told just a few nights before the meeting. And the notice sent out from the Tower indicated the full presence of the Houses. That meant serious business. He could not afford to be late.


    "Your uncle lord Reimar will attend for your father''s sake." Eskir''s tone grew more impatient with every minute wasted on the conversation.


    This annoyed Janir, with the blunt man before his eyes, and he continued to study him for a good minute.


    Eyeing him with eagle focus, then turning his eyes back to the lush gardens to his windows.


    The man was of average height, but his build made up for his lack of height, for he was on the burly side. His limbs corded with tight muscles and imbued with protective tattoos marring his skin. For someone who was only three decades old, he looked much older. The years must not have been kind to him, Janir presumed, feeling better after the childish thought.


    Even though he knew it was not Eskir''s fault that his father had left for something else instead of accompanying Janir for his first meeting at the Tower, he wanted to direct his pettiness and disappointment somewhere. It just happened to be at another man''s expense.


    "I see," Janir remarked simply, unmoving from the ledge of his grand widow overlooking the east of the estate.


    In the palm of Janir''s hand, an orb of flaming red flares burst with life, floating up in a dance before dispersing back to the centre. He channelled the nervous energy that swirled from within his core with an extravagant display of power. He thought this would hide his nervous jitters from the observant man.


    The power of the Reddark Gods flowed through Janir. He was one of the chosen ones, the lucky ones, born with the power to use the energy of the Soltice World where all powers reside, to bend and shift this energy into a force of nature, to shift matter into any form, or even willing it to take shape into a weapon lethal to others. This was all true, but why, then, was it so hard for Janir to feel anything but weak and useless?


    Janir felt the other man shift from one foot to another, but he knew it was not from awe or intimidation but rather from impatience. This infuriated Janir further; however, this only proved that he lacked the skill and power.


    Janir had schooled his expression to be neutral before he fully turned to Eskir. He could not show the discomfort that he feels when he is amongst his parents and their subordinates.


    "Then we better go." He added, his tone resentful this time while a smile that was far too wide and far too forced was plastered across his face.


    It was time to face the monsters of Elthralme, the ones whose words were law and magic, their power. Janir wanted to see - no, he needed to know what he needed to become to be one of those monsters.


    To survive in this world, one must not fear the beast that lives inside them but rather embrace the monstrosity and let it grow stronger and fiercer than any other. If Janir knew nothing else in this world, he surely knew this fact.

 Chapter 3: Sword of the First Light

    "We have arrived, my lordling," Eskir announced through the screen of the carriage.


    Janir did not respond and waited for one of the coachmen to open the door.


    His fingers tapped away at his side. A nervous tic of his, he had only entered the Tower of Magis once before, and that was during his fourteenth name day to inaugurate him as the heir of House Telram. But he never imagined being invited again, let alone to a meeting; he had thought he would have to wait until his sixteenth name day. Yet another year away. He suspects that those rumours might be at play. His curiosity was filled to the brim. He could hardly keep himself still.


    It took less than a minute before doors were opened, and Janir could step out. As he did, Eskir was in front of the Tower''s guardsmen to announce him.


    "Janir Frahel, Firstborn and Heir of House Telram of the Twelve," Eskir announced simply, and from his side, he could see that Janir''s mouth had set in a thin line.


    Eskir did not need to ask why, for he knew that this had been caused by Janir''s titles or, rather, a lack of title.


    But titles aren''t just given freely in Ardovi or Elthralme, for that matter. One must gain them through trials and tribulations; even then, this is not guaranteed.


    The guards opened the gates, and marbled double doors, latches, and chains started to unwind, undone in unison by the magic of the guards.


    The Tower''s entrance was vast and grand, with hallways leading to many doors and paths unknown to most men. Janir was about to step forward towards the giant doors of the Tower when thundering gallops came closer, the sound mighty and loud.


    Another trumpet was sounded. It could only mean one thing, another arrival of a member of the Twelve.


    Janir halted at the mouth of the entrance, turning his heel to face the road. There weren''t many opportunities where the twelve Houses met outside of official meetings. Janir was curious enough to see who would arrive this close to the time of the meeting. He came this late only because he had waited for his father at their estate. He had his guesses but wanted to confirm it.


    The carriage, which was a few miles away, was black accented by what looked like bronze claddings, and all the horses strapped to giant contraptions were immense in size and just as dark as the shade of the carriage.


    His arms crossed in front of his chest, his brows furrowing as he waited to catch a closer glimpse. Janir could see from his peripheral vision that Eskir, who stood to his left, was eyeing him curiously. He gave the man a dismissive wave to indicate that he wanted him to go forward.


    Eskir hesitated; he opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by Janir. "My lord, it is best to"


    "Go on, let uncle know of my arrival," Janir commanded arrogantly, an unnecessary task as they both knew that the announcement of his arrival had already been broadcasted through the meeting hall with sound signals by the guards.


    The lines on Eskir''s forehead deepened, but he nodded nonetheless and walked towards the middle hallway leading to the hall where the meetings commenced.


    The carriage came closer, and from that, Janir could see more clearly that it was, in fact, not black but rather the deepest shades of navy, the same shadow as the depths of the ocean, and on the front was a Sigil of a Kraken with a Triton piercing its centre. This was House Velantis, Rulers of Seas.


    Janir''s mouth formed a slight o. This was one of the houses he knew very little about. A house he would like to learn more about.


    The Velantis, although part of the twelve, did not participate in most meetings, often choosing to send a representative of their House instead.


    Their lands were farthest out of all the other houses. Of the Twelve, only three Houses lived outside the capital and in their ancestral homes. One of them was the Velantis.


    Even though each House had land they governed and represented, many chose to stay close to the capital to keep up to date with the happenings of the court, and it was easier to know the movements of their rivals when one was close to them.


    There was a common saying that it''s easier to strike when one knows where the enemies lie.


    As for the Velantis, they were busy fighting the storms and tides of the sea to quarrel with the other houses, and they stood to gain nothing in the lands. It was said that the Velantis believed every great treasure was hidden and only found in the depths of the sea. But what did Janir know? These were only rumours he had heard.


    Although Janir was curious enough about the reclused House, he had no interest in their representatives. So he turned to walk forward as the carriage came to a halt at the gate entrance, which had been left open by the guards waiting for him to enter the Tower.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    "Farroe Gael Nes, Lord of the Five Seas, Master of the Black Tides, Keeper of the Triton, House Velantis of the Twelve, Kaiser of the Seas. And his firstborn and heir, Kael Nereid, Commander of the Storm," Their arrival was proudly announced.


    Janir halted once more, turning his head towards the figure standing by the foot of the gate. They had come in person themselves, and his eyes widened with surprise. Not only at their appearance but by the title of the heir, she had already been given such a title at the tender age of Fifteen. Janir''s curiosity grew to newfound heights.


    Janir stood there gawking at the new arrivals. They were both wearing their house''s colours of the sea''s deep hues of blues and the darkest shades of navy.


    Farroe was a large man like the rumours and thick as oaks, his full beard braided down, reaching the tops of his chest. It was greying on the edges where the hairs were shorter, but the rest was a flaming auburn like the mane of his crown. Golden streaks with highlights of orange and red, this too was greying in some parts like the sides of his temple.


    His skin, which one would assume would be pale for someone with such light features, was the same shade of brown as the worn leather boots the older man wore. In fact, it resembled its textures, too. It was wrinkled and worn like the sun had weathered him often. Farroe''s eyes were grey like the storms of winter. They held bitterness and cold resolute. He had an aura like no other. This was a man who was shaped and hardened by the wild tempests he tamed at sea.


    Beside him was his daughter Kael, whose features did not resemble her old man. For she had the darkest of hair Janir had seen. It was the colour of the coals of the mines, pitch black.


    Would soot cover his hand? Should he run his fingers down their length? He found himself wondering aimlessly, dazzled by her appearance.


    Her build was more delicate; she looked lean rather than sturdy like her father. There was a nimbleness in her movements. Her eyes were, he could not see, for she had her face turned opposite him¡­Were they grey like her fathers, or were they soft and brown like- they were electric blue, and they were frosty daggers glared towards him.


    He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. Interesting, he thought; Kael wasn''t delicate like he initially thought. She seemed to have had the same coldness that made her father King of the Seas. A curious thing, he thought.


    A voice from one of the corridors spoke, "Nephew, come now," and from a distance, a figure appeared.


    His uncle''s form started to walk towards him, his long-sleeved silky jacket, knotted intricately in the back with a corded thread, extended well over his knees. His jacket''s wide sleeves extended to just below his hands, and the ends of each sleeve are embellished with various red thread linings, the colours of their great House. The jacket features a deep v-neck that partially exposes the traditional shirt worn below it; this was grey instead of black, the usual complimentary colour that embellished their colours of blood red.


    His uncle Reimar wore a thick rope belt fastened with complex knots and medallions, noting his high position within the Tower of Magis. He would be described as a magistrate of some sort. Janir knew very little about the Tower and its rankings. Or at least how they worked. Not even with his very own uncle working there.


    "Uncle, I presumed you were already seated in the council room," Janir said to the man in a low voice while looking suspiciously around his surroundings.


    "No, I was called earlier to", Reimar smiled, stopping himself and shaking his head as if to change his thoughts to something else, "I came to get you. I thought it was more fitting for us to arrive together, seeing as your father is, erm¡­ well away," Reimar said awkwardly, scratching at his temples as he spoke. It was as if he was probing to find words instead of speaking his mind.


    Janir studied Reimar, his uncle, who was a good few years younger than his father and only a decade older than himself. He was a man of no eminent qualities that Janir searched for in others. Like many of the other nobles, he, too, was cut from the same cloth. All living the same life, albeit more privileged than most, but still nothing special that one could discern them from the crowd. He grew up with no wanton for leadership nor drive for power; it made sense, though, for he was merely a spare to the heir.


    His uncle was so unlike his father. Reimar bored Janir, or rather, he could not admire his uncle as he did his father; his father was, well, his father. A great warrior, leader and mage truly fitting to be called the Sword of Ardrovi and leader of the Twelve.


    "Ah yes, a strong united front" Janir couldn''t help the sarcasm dripping from his tongue.


    Try as he might to deny it, and even to himself, he was disappointed that his father was not there instead for his first official meeting with the council member. He will be officially introduced as a junior member, a milestone similar to when he first manifested a sword of fire with his divinity.


    In this meeting, he will be recognised as a man rather than Jahas''s son and designated heir. And he will finally be welcomed into the great council room, which was an exciting notion.


    He took three calming breaths, feeling the energy within him surge to life. His uncle must have felt the shift within him because his forehead had furrowed, and two lines between his usually smooth skin creased in the centre. The expression made him look a tad older than he was, and if he was disturbed by Janir''s display of power and lack of awareness of their surrounding, he did not say and simply gestured with a wave of his arm to follow him and turned to start walking into one of the halls.


    ¡­.


    The hallway leading to the meeting room was long. The walls were lined with sconces burning bright with warm flickers of fire; they did not smell of gas or wax. They must be lit using the energy from the atmosphere; how fascinating, Janir thought. This meant that much energy had been exerted to hold such steady light unwavering as they burn through the day and night. With the scientific advancements of recent years of what they called electric power, no energy, that allowed light to manifest through coppers and whatnots, one would think the Tower of Magis would be one of the first to utilise this, but no, their members as exclusive and as restrictive as they were as traditionalists.


    They kept their rules and customs for centuries, so it should not surprise anyone that they would be stubborn about how certain things are run.


    Janir will install such electrical lights once he gains more power and recognition from the council. It was clear that he thought himself clever and bright with his ideas. Janir prophesied he would be the one to bring about significant changes to this council and, in turn, to this bleak world.


    Advancements in inventions and the sciences shouldn''t be seen as the adversary but rather in a positive light. Although the Drifters would benefit them, there were far more uses for them for an Arucanian, especially the nobles who governed masses of people.


    The council room was not what he expected, although he did not know precisely what he expected. It was a small and plain room lit only by the flickering fire by the walls and three great candles hanging above. The only thing worth mentioning was each House''s sigils carved intricately into each curve, forming the oval room. Only one end was left bare at the opposite end of the entrance where the head of the table would be. Where his father should have sat had he been there.


    Each symbol was painted in their respective colours. They were vibrant and perfectly resembled each house''s pride and powers for House Telram, a long sword of black steel engulfed in glaring red flames. For Velantis, the sea lords and ladies, it was a Kraken, a terrifying-looking octopus beast with sixteen clawed tentacles, their sworn enemy, a monster they help guard the rest of the realm against. The Kraken in their sigil held the Triton in between its tentacles, seeming to absorb the Amulet into itself. The waves encircling the two were painted in a stormy grey and dark blues. The other sigils were just as fascinating. House Elies, for instance-


    "Everyone, please find your seats." Janir was disrupted by his uncle''s voice. He looked to his left and found that his uncle was already sitting by their designated seats, two seats for each House but plenty of space for one or two more.


    It was about to begin, and it was his first meeting, so it was hard not to bounce with excitement at each step. This was the place where many great decisions were made. Janir was honoured to be part of it now.

 Chapter 4: Unity of Only One

    Janir walked on cautiously and curiously, eyeing everyone he passed; none but one acknowledged his existence. It was Rein of House Valla, the third son of Henriet, the pillars of strength and might, and the chosen heir of their house. He was giving Janir a look of contempt and disgust.


    "Weakling", Rein, the boy only a year older than Janir himself, proclaimed in a murmured manner. Although it was whispered, there was no doubt that everyone in that room had heard it.


    Janir''s face flushed in what he could only imagine as crimson colours. He was left with no words, and when he looked up, no one, not even his own uncle, had made remarks to chastise the other for his rude and inappropriate comments. That short interaction was enough to embarrass him, ushering him to haste to his seat. There was no need for more awkward and humiliating encounters; one was more than enough.


    Janir got seated beside his uncle, who was now adorned with a unique cape with the insignia of both Telram and the Magis embroidered on the lapels.


    Janir picked up the cape-like robe folded neatly by his seat. He wore it to signify his attendance to the council. He felt a sense of pride, having worn the symbols of his house in front of his peers, that he almost forgot Rein''s earlier comment, almost.


    The others also found their seats. Janir could tell they were as impatient as he was curious about this meeting. They all knew the sooner it commenced, the faster it''ll end. Janir was sure that many House leaders had better things to do than sit around and chat. But still, he was young, and he could not help but feel excitement even from the mundane.


    But something was very quaint; there was one house absent. House Rothsani, the mages of Death and Plagues. From what Janir had heard from his father, their absence was common. He had also told Janir that this was due to them being reclusive people who find their powers to be a burden. How can power ever be regarded as a burden? Janir would never know.


    "Now that everyone is seated, the meeting of the Twelve, under the eyes and guidance of the Holy Magis of the Tower, shall commence." A man of no distinctive feature had come in while Janir was engaged in his musings, which house was in attendance.


    The man was sitting at the end of the table where the blank wall was facing. He appeared to be one of the magistrates of the Tower. He dispassionately continued his speech.


    "You''re all probably wondering what circumstance evoked such an urgent appeal for such a meeting." He gestured around the room with a simple wave of his hands, indicating all the families, but the way his hand shook with tremors showed his state of comfort.


    "Well, to tell you the truth, there are two reasons, one most of you already know- as you were the ones who petitioned the appeal. And the other, well," the magistrate paused as if he did not quite know how to broach the subject and wanted to dance around it for a little while.


    "The other," he started once more. "Well, the other is an issue that requires the utmost secrecy and attention from you all. And will need further discussions." Once again, the man danced around with his statements, and with one glance at the people in the room, anyone could tell they were growing more impatient and annoyed at the prolonged speech.


    "So this is the issue I do recommend we discuss first. So, to begin-"


    "Whatever this issue may be, I think it is well understood that the first issue requires precedence in this meeting." Alleah of House Groufray spoke, her mouth a stern line, and her chin lifted in a regal posture, her eyes scanning the room as did Janir''s, and he was surprised to see that there were slight head nods to be found within the others in the room, intriguing Janir observed.


    While most nodded in agreement, Janir found it very interesting that some faces in the room had turned grim, like a terrible secret was to be unearthed, and they did not want to be there for such repercussions of revealing said secrets. While a few seemed to relish in this with mischievous grins hidden behind their hands and one bold enough to reveal it openly, Rein.


    Such a silly name, Janir sorely thought.


    "Ahem, then, uh." The magistrate cleared his throat, seeming to be taken aback by the progression of the meeting thus far. He looked around the room before stopping to address Alleah, "Seeing as this matter involves, well, the Twelve, umm, I suppose one of the Twelve, I can presume that you yourself, Lady Groufray, will be the one to start the discussion?"


    Alleah looked offended at the magistrate, a man who one can imagine to be a good few decades older than her. She expressed her displeasure openly as she grew from grim to wary.


    "I¡­Cough cough.. do it!?" Alleah asked, her face incredulous, aghast at the thought.


    This reaction alone was enough to pique Janir closer to the edge of his seat, his hands fisted beside him, awaiting to know what exactly this was all about until he could no longer, "Uncle", he whispered to his right.


    "What is this all about?" Janir''s tone had an urgency to it like no other.


    Reimar looked at his nephew sternly, his mouth a thin line, and shook his head only once. It worked as it was enough to silence Janir, but only for now. But it was evident to Janir that his uncle knew what this was about, and something told him that he was not looking forward to how it would play out.


    "Oh, for the sake of heavens, some of us have travelled from far and great. Any more time wasted is a day not lived!" Someone exclaimed, "Out with it now, Groufrey or who-bloody-ever, and aye be done with it." A voice, deep and smokey like an old rum barrelled for years, aging rich and potent.


    It held a heavy accent from the highlands. It was a voice that held enough timbre and hoarseness that can only be from lasting through the perpetual winters of the North, and only one family was crazy enough to live in such conditions, Bhorisov of House Earrow.


    They were walking gods among not only drifters but Arucanians themselves. Or at least they were built like one. Broad and stark were their features; bearded giants were what they were to the nation.


    They stood at least half a man taller than most folks. They had skin as rough and thick as scales, and their bodies were built like boulders and mountains standing tall, weathering all that came to pass. They were also known for their facile tongues that spit hard truths.


    "Fine," Alleah said, her eyes smouldering and cheeks flushed. "We, myself and the other members, have decided that it is due time that," she said, looking around the room before her eyes fell on the two figures seated in the House Elyseen''s seats.


    Then continued, her tone suggested caution rather than nervousness, "that a seat on the Twelve should be replaced with another." Alleah stated while she casually crossed her arms and stared down at them, avoiding eye contact and putting emphasis on one particular word, "Fortify our place."


    Janir looked around the room, and many had averted their eyes down before looking in one direction and without an utterance of a word. Their manners implied that this had been spoken and decided for in previous and assumably also secret meetings.


    There was only one thing clear to Janir, all of their eyes had fallen on House Elyseen''s dignitary Cielo and his wife, Sadin.


    My god, can they do this? Janir wanted to ask out loud but thought it unwise.


    An audible "Ah" was soft and feminine. Sadin had a hand over her mouth while she shook her head vehemently. The shock was the only expression that was evident on their faces.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "What is the meaning of this?" Cielo''s voice was low, almost like a whisper, that slipped out; it held befuddlement and, most of all, disbelief.


    "Who exactly is we?" Cielo laughed out a nervous chuckle as if it was all a joke, not quite landing.


    Janir also wanted to know who had put such an absurd notion as an appeal.


    No one answered for what felt like an eternity. The air in the room had become heavy and cumbrous, and no one was filling it with words or anything for that matter. The silence had grown very uncomfortable for the whole group until, eventually, someone spoke.


    "We as a collective believe that this-"Matthieus of House Ardir looked for the words that would come next. "Change would not only benefit the whole group, but I would like to perhaps even suggest to you as a house. You will no longer be burdened by your response-"


    "How dare you all!" Sadin spoke out this time, her tone spilling like venom.


    "I am of child. How can you say that this preposterous decision will benefit my husband, myself, this child, and our house?" Her hands rested atop, a small bump that would have otherwise been undetectable had it not been for the dramatic display to the crowd.


    Cielo, who seemed to have finally found some of his composure, pulled his wife to his side. Lowly chiding her into calm.


    "What is this all about?" he addressed the room again, his voice hinting desperation.


    "Well, it is obvious, is it not? Your house lost its power a long time ago. It is only appropriate that we adjust to changes in time. And that sometimes means cutting our weak link." Rein''s father sat lazily on his seat as if it were his very own throne answered.


    "Weak Link?!" Sadin repeated, her voice held much malice. A swishing sound echoed throughout the room, and the air became heavier. A loud, quivering sound manifested all around, getting louder every second.


    "Sadin, please calm-" someone started to say but was halted.


    "The great house of Elyseen was monumental in defeating the Onhor''s army, and you forget that this family helped every house get to safety during the Great War of Gods. It was this house-"


    "That is precisely the point, my dear cousin. This was all then and not now, and it will never be how it once was. Without the Amulet of the Sun, they, you, and this child of yours will not have the gifts of the Gods." Sadreas of House Margiotta interrupted, her voice clipped and short as if to state widely known facts.


    "We are Arucanian! How can you say we are not gifted? Do not dare to bracket us to those who drifted!" the wind circulating her body carried her words; some were as turbulent as the twisted accusations she was hearing. It was easy to imagine the betrayal she felt in that second as she hurled her words at her cousin.


    "Your child, no matter how sad it may be for me to say it- will only be as great as every other Arucanian; they will not be as strong as one of the Twelve. The truly gifted," Sadreas countered. She held her ground, but there was now a violent current of winds lapping at her face and her hair like a swirling tornado from Sadin''s charges.


    "You, how dare you speak ill of my child- when you yourself would not have been here at this table had I chosen to. "Sadin''s voice rang loudly throughout the room. "Had I chosen not to step-"


    "Calm now", Cielo whispered, touching her belly as he consoled his wife. The violent wind all around eased, but not by much.


    "No, of course, I meant no harm. I, we-" Sadreas waved her hand around the room to indicate the rest of the group. Perhaps she was hoping someone would take over. Her skin had changed to a dusty shade of pink when no one did.


    She looked almost flustered and embarrassed as she resumed, "We do not suggest such preposterous ideals. We merely think that it is time that you, Cielo," this time she looked on towards her cousin''s husband," as the head of your house, you, should step down from the Twelve for the better good of our empire."


    "The nation?" this time, it wasn''t the fiery Sadin who spoke but rather her quiet-natured husband.


    "How can our stepping down from our position do this nation any good? And who is to replace us, who knows more than we do of every inner working of how this empire is run and should be run."


    "Without the amplification of your Amulet, of Yarrak, your powers are as limited as an ordinary Arucanian. And as to who will rep- take care in your stead, well, there are a couple in the runnings, one being the royal family Belagass of the kingdom Verdga," someone answered, their tone logical and analytical.


    "They have an influence on not only our kind but also the Drifters within their realm, including those of the Ardovi lands as well but also all throughout Elthralme; they can be the diplomats this faction needs so that no more blood will be shed among our people and those of other nations." Janir didn''t see who spoke, as he was too shocked at the whole ordeal.


    "We have been one of the pillars for over a millennia. How could you, all of you, suggest that we are the clan that will ruin the good of Ardovi, and do you also suggest it is because of us that we are plagued with war?" Cielo spat out.


    "We do not think that; we only think that the fortification of our empire starts with having unity between other nations and expanding our reach, and that can all start with an alliance with the Verdga''s royalty," Alleah spoke, her tone gentle to the point of careful.


    "Besides, they too are considered pillars of Eltralme.'' She argued further.


    "You speak as if you all care how much blood is spilt and of peace in the same sentence as you speak of the Royals. They are why we are at war within our nation and with all the others, too!" Sadin''s voice was icy as the room had turned. Her ever-changing emotions were altering the atmosphere, projecting every emotion outwardly.


    Sadin continued her relentless assail, "And when did the mighty Ardovi ask for help, especially that of such a small nation! Pillars? Don''t make me laugh." Her eyes were wide and manic while she flailed her arms out wildly, as did the cold wind within the room.


    Janir held up his foreman to block the turbulent wind rising and falling.


    This woman''s emotions are as stable as a hurricane, Janir wanted to state out loud but ultimately kept to himself. Did these people realise that they were inside? Janir wanted to curse at them.


    "Careful now, cousin, you do not want to speak of the Belagass distastefully, do you? They are our brethren descending directly from the blood of Reddark. They are the first Arucanains, after all." Sadreas seemed to have found her composure to speak.


    "And especially since it is of an irony that they are only in power because of your husband''s so-called House," Sadreas added, this time, her tone matching the same iciness of her counteract.


    "They are COWARDS! They do not deserve to be called Arucanian, let alone be the ones who will replace us as pillars. They are mages of the dark. They are-"Sadin was shouting; she had turned hysterical at this point; she looked ready to kill. Exactly who? It was anyone''s guess, but Janir would bet that her first target would be her very own cousin.


    Fortunately, someone interrupted her; Janir could only imagine what would have happened if she had let loose the power surging and growing.


    Anyone with enough magical knowledge and experience could tell that her core was at its peak; her energy was only waiting to be unleashed, and he could tell if she were to attack with it, there wouldn''t be anyone in this room that would come out unharmed.


    It was Janir''s uncle who had stopped the outburst. "That is enough, Sadin," Reimar looked at her with sympathy before addressing someone more willing to listen.


    "Cielo-" he started gently, then resumed, "you must understand that the empire is in turmoil; rumours and speculations are spreading that our power has diminished within Ardovi and beyond. Many countries are envious of not only our rich resources but also our special gifts from the Gods. And what they envy, they choose to have, no matter the method. You and your family must know this more than any others."


    Wow, this was not what I expected for my first meeting, Janir thought as he looked at his uncle in pure disbelief, roused by the many things happening in the meeting thus far.


    "That is also why we are here; it is due to another alarming factor," Reimar explained.


    "Yes, that I know of it all! But you must also understand what you''re all doing to my family. This not only takes away our position but also our reputation as a house. We will be ruined!" Cielo reasoned the last word was significantly emphasised.


    "This will not take away what you already lost long ago." Rein, the arrogant boy, said. His face was a sneering picture.


    "You were ruined hundreds of years ago when your house carelessly lost Yarrak" He added more fuel to the raging fire. "You were lucky enough that the other house had been merciful all these years."


    Sadin''s eyes bulged out, and veins showed at her temples. The fires that illuminated the space started to flicker uncontrollably, some dead and gone, the wind lashing out from all around her was now of icy temperatures. It was becoming close to unbearable to most.


    No one said anything to defend their honour. It seemed that they had lost more than just their power but also their long-held connections.


    "Shush, child! You speak on matters you know nothing of!" Cielo''s face was flushed with both anger and embarrassment.


    "I was invited to this meeting, same as you, although I don''t particularly see your purpose." He sneered with a malicious smile curving up his lips.


    "But nevertheless, to answer you, it is simple. Your ancestors lost your precious Amulet, leaving your house vulnerable and weak. You can only point the blame at yourselves for being so careless. Being one of the Twelve means proving to others that your existence on this plane means that Gods still exist and they exist in you." Rein''s words bombarded down like a hailstorm; each was as hard and cold.


    "Why should you reap its benefits if you can''t uphold that responsibility." Rein pressed on and said in a matter-of-fact way that was hard to dispute.


    Cielo and Sadin looked at the room, and Janir found himself doing the same. Each member sat still; it felt like hours had passed. The wind at Sadin''s side subsided to a halt. "It seems that no amount of objection will change what was already set in stone. There is no more need for us to be here." Cielo finally spoke dejectedly.


    "Husband, this cannot be?" was both a statement and a question. Sadin''s face held confusion and bewilderment; she shook her head at her husband, not entirely understanding why he had stood down this fight.


    "No! We will leave with our heads held high while we can do so. We will not be dragged out." He spat out.


    Cielo looked amongst the faces of those who turned on him, dismay clear on his face. "But remember this day. Should you all be doomed to the same fate and lose it all, know that it started here when you chose not to unite as one and turned on House Elyseen." After Cielo made his statement, he ushered his wife, who had tears streaming down her face; they both looked grief-stricken and grey. It was easy to see that the turn of events had blindsided them.


    "And heed my warning, this will come back to you all." Cielos last words rang with vengeance, regret, and a final warning, "The Belagass can not be trusted."


    The room, full of people, watched as the couple quietly made their way out.


    When the couple was well and out, the magistrate, who stood awkwardly, cleared his throat, "Shall we discuss the other matter?"


    No one seemed to care that a family so well-regarded in society and that had stood with their own for centuries had left. Janir should not be surprised, and yet he was shocked to his core. They, indeed, were monsters in their own right.


    And when the doors finally shut behind them, not a minute was wasted. Janir was once again reminded that this world was not cut out for weak people. Only the strong prevail.

 Chapter 5: Messiah of the Slums

    "Yes, now that all the theatrics are done, we shall," Mauiree, the second child of the Chimera of the Woods and newly appointed successor of their house, Bellon, said as she idly traced the edge of the table with her finger, her gaze distant, exuding boredom.


    The magistrate, who had been standing throughout the whole ordeal, cleared his throat again. "Yes, as Lord Telram stated, there have been many rumours-"


    "Yes, yes, plenty of rumours." Mauiree tapped her fingers on the table, each thud punctuating her words. "I believe I speak on everyone''s behalf by saying that we all remember and have ears. Baseless as they all are, we hear what they say out there of us, of our power. We want to know why exactly these rumours should be of any concern."


    "Yes, a baseless rumour is hardly an issue that calls for a meeting", Lady Alleah agreed, her brows arched high.


    "It is the Mestraye who are spreading these rumours." The magistrate said, his eyes darting back and forth looking, his voice small.


    "So?" Rein interjected, his tone dripping with hubris as if this should be of any matter to him.


    "The Mestraye have grown in supporters, therefore, in power," Reimar explained before expanding further. "Not only that, but they rally behind a figure-"


    "If that is all, then I have better things to do with my time." Henreit drawled as he threw his arms up, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling as if to imply this was all beneath him.


    Reimar ignored the interferences and followed with, "This man, this figure, they have been garnering attention all over, and in the South, we have seen movements in two nations. I''m talking about bandits, criminals and even independent armies who fearlessly approach the borders of Ardovi. This is an unprecedented occurrence. "Reimar''s jaws clenched as he stressed out. "Please, my Lord, sit down and hear the rest." A polite request to the brisk man.


    "This isn''t new; senseless people have always tried to break in. We need better security down south," said Elias, who came alone, the young master of House Gabor and son of Elthrame''s wealthiest man, Thudos.


    "Are you implying that my family, who has held the South longer than your lifetime, is lacking?" An austere old woman who had been silent until now spoke up, incredulous at what she considered slander from the young tycoon. Her mouth twisted, and she pointed a gnarled finger at Elias, warning him, "You''re one to be pointing blame at others."


    "Ah¡­no, Lady Bellon, I merely thought that perhaps-"Elias replied, this time perplexed by the hostility the older gentlewoman showed, who also turned out to be The Chimera of the Woods, herself, Lady Ghiselia, and she looked livid as she narrowed her eyes at Elias.


    "Hahaha, Elias dear, perhaps you seemed to have pushed on a sore spot; otherwise, why would there be such a reaction if one does not need denials?" Lady Alleah quipped, her words filled with hidden laughter.


    "Bite yer tongue, lass. You know naught of our dealings in the South."Ghiselia turned her gaze to Alleah and warned, her voice heavy and full of enmity.


    "I wouldn''t dream of it." She directed at the woman; she smiled, baring her complete teeth. Before speaking as if she had moved on, "And as for this man, a madman claiming to be one of us. How can he be of any threat when he''s just another regular Arucanian? He isn''t us; only those chosen can be one of us." A rhetorical statement directed toward Reimar.


    "Exactly. Didn''t we do so just then?" Henriet said, sounding exasperated. "I mean, choose." He scoffed as he rolled his eyes in an unsubtle manner.


    "Enough, all of you!" Faroe''s voice boomed, silencing the room. "You quarrel like children. I came here to hear what has been happening in the capital, but it seems like there is nothing of substance. My daughter and I will leave; we have long to travel."


    "Wait right there!" Reimar''s hand shot out as if to physically stop them, his voice carrying a sharp urgency that made everyone pause.


    "This man, he isn''t like any Arucanian. No, I suspect he isn''t even one, to begin with." He said low and serious while he looked solemnly in front of his hand. He looked to be contemplating something.


    "A Drifter? That is who we are concerned with?"Borishov said with a contemptuous tone.


    At the same time, Janir spoke, "Uncle, this figure, it''s a man? Have you met him?" Janir felt this figure was connected to what he''d heard in the Subterrains about magic dying.


    "Yes, I was sent by the tower to investigate, and I met, no, I saw him, witnessed him do things no ordinary-" he answered before diverting, "This man, he is not like any Drifter. He can draw energy from the Aether and use it like an Arucanian mage; he also-"


    "Then maybe he is an Arucanian, pretending to be a Drifter to play messiah to them all." A woman spoke, who Janir recognised as Illyia of Lebretan, his great aunt from his mother''s side.


    "No, I know the difference between an Arucanian and a Drifter" Reimar''s voice rose as he gritted his teeth and veins popped out at his temples, cutting through the interruptions. "This man had no energy within his core," Reimar said, shaking his head in disagreement.


    A ripple of murmurs swept the room. Janir''s eyes darted to the attendees, their faces a mixture of shock and guarded scepticism.


    "And yet he can use and manipulate energy extracted from the Aether?" Illyia, the usually composed woman, faltered as she asked, seemingly shocked.


    "Yes," was the simple answer he gave.


    "How is that possible?" Sadreas asked, before suggesting, "Are you sure you aren''t mistaken?"


    "I am sure. I went to what seemed to be Mestraye''s congregation, and he was there. Among the Drifters, I felt for his core but felt no trace of an Arucanian essence." Reimar said, his mouth a grim line.


    "Ha! There is no way," someone let out a chuckle, their disbelief evident.


    Reimar didn''t retort; instead, he lifted one of the sleeves on one arm, revealing a red rune of charm scribbled all over his skin in circles and swirls. His hand hovered over the scribblings, whispering incantations, and lifted the allure off. The room stilled as he revealed a vile sight.


    His arm, no, what seemed to be left of his arm, was a mangle of putrid skin and bone. It had deep gashes of ebony that seemed never to close, gaping wide to show some of the ivory of his bones. It oozed a thick green pus as though on cue; it smelt as repugnant as it looked.


    "Uncle..." The word was a strained whisper filled with disbelief at the horrid sight. Janir''s stomach churned, and he clenched his jaw to keep his composure.


    "Is it?" Illyia asked her face a picture of startlement, but she already knew, like all the people in the room.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Lady Alleah raised a trembling hand to her lips. "Sivras," she whispered, naming the long-condemned dark magic with reverent horror.


    "Not only that, he can use it at the same level as a Holy Magis mage, maybe even as well as one of the", Reimar said, his composure lost and clouded as if haunted by ghosts only he could see. Not continuing with what he was saying, he instead said, his voice thin with the weight of memory, pointing to his damaged arm, "This happened over a full moon ago, and it festers still, resistant to any form of healing."


    That long ago, and it still hasn''t recovered? Janir wanted to ask but could not find his voice, with a lump in his throat and a pit forming in his stomach. How had he not known about this? Surely, his father knew about it.


    The room buzzed with tension. Borishov looked stricken, and his bluster drained as if he feared the infection could leap across the space between them. Even Rein narrowed his eyes, a flicker of unease betraying his confident facade.


    "That''s impossible!" Farroe''s deep voice cut through the murmurs. "Sivras has been forbidden for centuries. Anyone foolish enough to wield it would be hunted and executed."


    Reimar''s eyes locked with Farroe''s. The intensity in his gaze held the weight of unsaid words, something primal and raw. "Impossible or not, I saw it. And more than that, I felt it."


    He lowered his voice, the following words barely more than a whisper that prickled the air. "He knew I would be there as if he''d been expecting my arrival."


    A hush fell over the room, cold and absolute. The assembled nobles exchanged wary glances, their bravado stripped away, even if it were only mere seconds it revealed them.


    "Who is this man?" Lady Goufray asked the one question everyone wanted to ask, her voice brittle.


    Reimar didn''t answer immediately. He was staring at the ruined remains of his arm as if seeing it anew. "He is called Isandul Relarkke," he said, finally lifting his eyes to meet theirs. "And he commands not just the allegiance of Drifters but also the faith of many Arucanians."


    A shiver passed through Janir. It was not just the name or the claim of godhood that made his skin crawl but the quiet certainty in Reimar''s voice, as if he had witnessed something that defied understanding.


    "That means¡ª"Sadreas said, her eyes glazed as if she were trying to recall a memory.


    "Isandul, one of the Onhar Gods?" someone scoffed, but Janir did not see who. "Reincarnated? Ha! These lowlifes have nothing better to do than make up a messiah. To what? Shake us? Our people''s faith?" Janir followed the voice and saw that it was Borishov, chin lifted high, who spoke with renewed bravado. Perhaps he wasn''t as hard as people claimed him to be. Janir tried to hide his disdain by looking elsewhere.


    "As I said before, I went to investigate this figure; I went to where the first rumour began, the Subterrain and asked around", Reimar began to explain, "That led me to find out that there had been congregations, though it started small, it has been rampant throughout the decrepit parts of the nation, the Slums of Igor and even as far as the Perished Harbour," Reimar stated as he looked at Farroe, whose ginger brows was furrowing as he grunted, but didn''t say a word. Reimar exhaled, glad to be uninterrupted. He took another moment and continued.


    "And, of course, the Subterrains of the capital. There, I found that another congregation was to take part, and I was fortunate and, I suppose, unfortunate to have seen the man," Reimar said absently; his mind seemed too far from the present. His eyes were downcast and vacant.


    "And what happened when you came across him?" Lady Goufray asked, leaning closer to the edge of the table, eager to hear more.


    Reimar looked her way and shook his head slightly, shaking his daze. He continued, "During the congregation, it was¡ª" Reimar stopped speaking, his face scrunching. "How do I say this?" He paused again. "Ermm, well, it was, it was¡ª"he repeated. "It was strange."


    "Strange, how so?" Illyia''s brows furrowed together, and her eyes squinting in focus.


    "When he arrived at the congregation, it felt as if the atmosphere was changing, transforming, and somehow I knew that this was due to his presence as if he was changing reality itself," Reimar noted, the words flowing as he painted the scene.


    "Air felt heavy yet light; I could taste its metallic tang, which was unnatural. Rhythmic chanting began, not from the people around, but from distant, unknown whispers."


    From Janirs peripheral vision, he could see the hairs on Reimar''s standing in alert. He felt his own stand as shivers racked through his body. He clenched his fist, crescent marks forming where his nails dug hard.


    Reimar recounted his horrific encounter further, compelled to say, "Even light itself seemed to be absorbed by him. The room and the people around were engulfed by darkness. I couldn''t see his face under the hood he wore, but from a distance, I could feel his eyes in the dark. It was as if the shadows had come alive and were watching me, awaiting his command." Reimar halted, his voice pitching low, broken at the end


    "But that''s not what is important. It''s the Arucanians that were present." Reimar gulped down, lifted his chin up, and, with his brows set straight and determined, used that to take a moment before divulging something outrageous. "He seemed to be feeding. No, they gave him their energy; he was absorbing it, but I don''t know how he did it and where it went since I didn''t feel it go to him."


    Audible gasps were in the room; tension and murmurs rose from the crowd. "That can''t be right!" but Reimar continued undeterred.


    "It was what I witnessed, so when the congregation finished, I followed him. And he led me deeper into the heart of the Subterrain, and when our gazes met, the air grew dense, pressing on my chest as if the room held its breath. And just when I thought I had cornered him and I was going to apprehend him, he took hold of my arm and¡ª" Everyone looked at the Reimer''s arm still exposed and decomposing before their eyes; some were glazed with sympathy while others something else, worry.


    "I felt for the energy in my arm but found it... absent. Not drained¡ªtaken." Reimar''s voice was hoarse and exhausted.


    "His hand had barely grazed mine, and yet the pain was a searing heat erupting from under my skin. The pain was as if shadows themselves had gnawed on my bones. I was lucky enough to stop the flow of magic. Had I been too late in reacting, I would have- after I came to, he had vanished before my eyes." Reimar resigned his speech as he reached to unroll his sleeve, finally covering his arm, concealing it and his shame


    "Then we need to cull out this man and his supporters." Illyia, raising her fist like a gavel, was ready to condemn them as she hammered it down, shaking the table with fury. Her tone was eerie and serious, not a promise but a threat.


    "Surely, this task won''t require more than the families residing here in the capital," Farroe pulled and scratched at his braided beard, deep in contemplation, suggested.


    "But the only families who reside here in the capital are Telram, the absent Rothsani and Elyseen, who have now been conscripted out from the twelve." This time, Janir found his voice, wanting to clarify the obvious. "This man''s abilities are unknown to us all. Perhaps we should thread on the careful-"


    "Then are you saying that your great house cannot handle one man, a Drifter at that?" it was the Rein who spoke, his mouth a sneer and his eyes glinting with malice as he interjected. He wanted Janir to squirm, and he was doing a fine job.


    "I didn''t say that, only that after what my uncle¡ª"Janir started to argue, wanting to defend his family.


    "I speak on my brother''s behalf since he will be away for many weeks, possibly months, and I am uncertain when he will return. So, I declare this; Telram will take the lead in finding this man. But know one thing: your houses must show support by agreeing to cooperate with us in investigating who is backing this man and who his supporters are." Reimar''s voice was unmistakably clear; he meant business.


    "Ah! You say you speak on Jahas''s sake, but will he approve of you making such an accusation?" Borishov blared, his fist making a loud thud as he pounded the table.


    "Yes, that''s right. Do you suggest that one of us is aiding the rebellion?" Ghiselia spoke, her hand clutching at her chest, feigning hurt.


    "No, I make no accusations to any of you, but to do a thorough job, we will leave no stones unturned, and there should not be any worries for any of you if you have nothing to hide, yes?" Reimar smiled politely, and his earlier calm and collected composure was restored. It seemed to appease the group that there was no further outrage. But in Reimar''s eyes hid something in their depths.


    "I only want to say one last thing. This man, whoever he may be, must be found." it was a solemn oath, vowed by Reimar.


    A resolute agreement formed within the room, with many families wanting to scurry home. But not without promising to arrange another meeting, this time with only the heads. This was how the meeting ended. But the atmosphere was left heavy and unfinished.


    As Janir rose to stand and proceeded to leave, his uncle whispered, ¡°Stay in place. I need to talk to someone briefly, and then I will come and get you."


    Reimar stood from where he was crouching beside Janir''s ear, then went directly to Illyia and pulled her to the side. He leaned in to say something to her ear, much like what he had done for Janir. Illyia looked around the room, her eyes stopping at Janir''s face before then nodding her head. They both acknowledged the people they passed with a quick nod as they walked on and opened a hidden door on one of the wall panels. No one seemed surprised that a room was hidden in the walls. Perhaps there was even more than one.


    Janir wanted to follow. He wanted to know what his uncle needed to discuss with his great-aunt in secrecy. And after some consideration, he was determined to go and follow the duo. He was the heir of Telram, and he deserved to know everything happening in their nation, including his uncle''s business.


    Someone spoke behind Janir as he was prepping to go to the wall where his uncle and Illyia had disappeared. "Weaklings have no place in this council."


    Janir turned his head to see who was speaking and was not surprised to see that Rein had been the one who spoke.


    "I have every right as you to be here. I am my father''s heir and successor," he didn''t want to admit it, but it would be a lie to say that he did not feel threatened by the other boy''s claims.


    "Then how unfortunate for your family. They''ll become weak with you leading them." He taunted, his mouth lifting at the corners, his yellow eyes glowing ghostly. It held so much hostility for Janir, but why? He did not know.


    Janir was quiet; he didn''t want to feed into Rein''s bait, although even if he did want to, Janir didn''t know what to say to defend himself because, deep down, he knew it to be true.


    Rein was not done with Janir, so instead of leaving like his father had proceeded to do, he derided Janir some more. "We had already gotten rid of one of the Twelve, and another family who shows as lacking will not be difficult."


    "My father is the Kaiser of the¡ª" Janir loudly exclaimed, his hands forming a fist. He had decided that enough was enough. Insults to himself were founded, but to tarnish his family''s name, he knew crossed a line.


    "That''s enough, boy," Reimar spoke, preventing an enraged Janir from spilling any more barrages of words.


    Janir did not notice Reimar returned. ¡°Leave now while I ask nicely,¡± his uncle added, his voice low and cautionary.


    Rein glared at the other man before refocusing his gaze at Janir, "You watch your back."


    Finally, he left without another word.


    "Uncle, he dishonoured our family; why didn''t you say anything to his father?" Janir asked.


    "Going to his father to tattle will dishonour our family. Rein is just a foolish boy; he knows not what he thinks he knows," Reimar explained. "Now, let''s go." His words were final.


    "Wait, uncle, why did you speak with¡ª"


    "There are many eyes and ears within these walls. I''ll explain soon." His uncle leaned in to whisper, ushering him to a quick pace as they passed the dark halls. Janir cautiously looked at the walls, expecting someone to jump through, but nothing happened.


    As they left the halls, Janir could only think about the rumour he had heard while down the Subterrains; there was some truth to it. A power shift was at play, and it was happening now. It was the time when the great houses would fall, and a new era would begin.


    "Remember this day. Should you all be doomed to the same fate and lose it all, know that it started here," Cielo''s words rang in Janir¡¯s head, and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

 Chapter 6: Memories of Another Life

    Sai''s eyes opened to the grey, overcast sky. It was as if he had been jolted awake by a violent shock. He did not know whether he was alive, dead, or perhaps somewhere in between. He lay there for what seemed like hours, unmoving. Not for the lack of trying but rather because his body was unresponsive and somewhat numb, as if his limbs were made of lead and his blood of liquid gold.


    So, with nothing to do, he lay there some more; he couldn''t think about how half the day had been wasted with how high the sun was sitting. How much had he lost? Did it still matter? He did not know.


    What else could Sai do but think of nothing instead of how unfair his life was and how many grains he could have ploughed had this been another day, especially given that just last night, he was beaten to the brink of death and his hard work taken from him. His hard work was wasted on someone else; he gritted his teeth, gnashing as he heard them grind against each other.


    He might cry if he thought those things, and he''d done enough of that for the night. Not only that but it would be wasted fluid that his body, which had been lying out in the sun, probably needed to reserve.


    It must have been a few hours, or at least it felt like it, before Sai could feel any sensation in his limbs, and in that time, he floated in and out of sleep. It spread as light tingles, like blood pumping steadily through his veins, then gradually sped up as each pump of his heart grew stronger. Then it built into the feeling of his skin prickling, and the drumming in his ear grew louder; it was his heartbeat, like thunder rumbling mightily and strongly.


    Strange, he thought. Had he ever heard it thump this loudly, and had he ever known the exact feeling of his blood flowing? The day has kept him thinking of strange thoughts he had never conceived. Even his daydreams are strange, mystical, and yet familiar in a way he could not explain.


    It showed him places he''d never been or seen, and yet they felt vivid and real like forgotten memories resurfacing back into reality. Iron, the metallic smell of iron, brought him back; it seemed he was surrounded by it. Though this was a grain field, there was no reason for the smell to be present, yet it enveloped Sai¡ªlike a vivid memory from another life.


    While Sai lay there, he thought about how many times he had ever felt at peace; although he was in pain, the worries of yesterday had started to disappear, and even the prospects of today and the next didn¡¯t seem to stress him anymore. This was what it meant to be nothing; perhaps fighting it all along was the problem, and if he had succumbed to it sooner, he would have found peace. Fate was cruel, but it was the only thing that was certain in this life, and it was Sai¡¯s lot to be a nobody of consequence.


    Yes, this was nice, Sai mused to himself. "No more, " he uttered, but his meaning differed this time from when he said those words last.


    Maybe he was genuinely dead like he had initially thought; he was beaten to a pulp just the night before. He is more surprised that he is alive rather than dead. All he remembers was how he had been left in such a sorry state. Sai was sure it would be his last day when he closed his eyes. Yet here he was alive. It made him wonder how, though.


    The hours passed some more, and the sun was now setting compared to when he awoke to it being high up in the centre of the sky. Its heat was now warm and gentle, like an embrace, compared to the previous scorching burn.


    During all that time, while Sai rested on the ground, he had made himself wriggle and move his fingers and toes, patiently working them back to function like a child learning to walk again. It was a humbling and profound feeling. When did he last feel gratitude for his body, a body that was not broken.


    Thinking deeply and philosophically, he discovered that one of his hands was broken when he finally gathered enough courage and energy to look at them. His fingers bent to the side, and he turned it side to side, wincing at the pain it induced while he did so. His knuckles had bruises; he suspects his other hand sported the same. However, it got him thinking about whether he had landed any significant blows to the men who had ransacked his sacks; he thought not, at least not on any that would cause such bruisings, no, nothing like that at all.


    When he finally found the strength to get up, he took his chances. He knew he needed to take it; otherwise, he would be stuck on the ground until the next day. He didn''t mind the idea of rotting away and into the ground, but somehow, the stirring and rumbling in his stomach was enough reason to live another day.


    As Sai got into a sitting position, he was surprised that he was not in as much pain as he initially thought. But he was glad nonetheless. Perhaps all the resting he had done was what healed his ailments.


    "Oh, my-"he didn''t finish his sentence. He looked all around, and what he found shook him down to his bone. Only a few metres from him, a man lay in his front, dark fluids pooled all around him. The shock made Sai bolt to his feet, wanting to confirm what he had seen, wincing with pain as he did. His ribs throbbed and sent tingling feelings across his chest and to the tips of his broken fingers. The sudden movements sent a flurry of stars to his vision, but he chose to ignore it.


    What greeted him was even more alarming than he initially thought; there were more bodies scattered nearby, at least half a dozen or so. He did not see things clearly when he was lying down, but still, indeed, he would have known, should have known. The iron he smelt was blood, his, and now he knew theirs.


    Sai limped to the closest man, clutching at one of his shoulders to support it. He guesses that, too, was broken. The man was dressed in deep blue and yellow. This was a man of the militia, the royal militia.


    "Sir?" he asked, licking his dry lips. His voice shook as he approached, and he trembled at the knees; there was no response from the man. Though he suspected there would be none, he wanted to confirm it first.


    "Sir, are you alright?" he gulped, the lump forming in his throat. This time, he had reached him and was crouching down. Sai managed to turn the man over, much to his hesitation.


    "Ah!" he choked at the sight that greeted him. The man in question had no face; rather, his likeness no longer existed within the deep slashes, where blood still oozed leisurely.


    "My god, what happened?'' Sai whispered into the air. He felt nauseous; he wasn''t a stranger to death, but this was not just any death. It was violent and full of rage and anger. This was the doing of a madman.


    He got up once more to check the others. He was limping badly and sweating profusely. While looking and walking about the field, something amiss began to gnaw at Sai. Something he didn''t want to admit, for its strangeness could be akin to him losing his mind.


    And it was the fact that he was not in the field he was working only a day ago, nor was it the field that he was beaten almost to death in. This was a completely different location altogether. His heartbeat started to race once again.


    There in his gut, an ominous and heavy feeling weighed. How he got there, he didn''t know. That feeling in his stomach started to rise up in his chest, making breathing hard, and Sai saw stars; it was that or the sudden activity. As he turned to each body, it was clear to him that not a single one of them was alive. Their bodies were cold, as if they had been cooling for quite some time. Sai observed that these men had been dead for at least a day, maybe even two.


    "Ugh," vile fluids retched up Sai''s throat. It was acidic and sticky, clinging around his mouth as he tried to spit it out. It was a sticky mucus mixed in with some brownish-red clumps, which he believed to be blood. Perhaps he did bleed internally and will soon die. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "What''s going on?" he asked into thin air. Not knowing what is happening. The strangeness of it all made his head spin with wild thoughts. A cold wind blew and rattled the medallions hanging on the dead men''s bodies. Sai shivered at the sound, the ringing of metal in the silence of nature an unsettling combination.


    Perchance, it was a fight between bandits and the guards; Sai did hear of those stories around town. He nodded as he tried to convince himself. That would be reasonable enough, but it didn''t explain him. Why had he been moved to this place, wherever it may be? Even the location is a mystery to Sai. This field had no grains; instead, it was a hayfield.


    It came to him that those who beat him up may be responsible. Did they have further plans for him and end up entangled with the guard? Did they want to finish what they started? But that didn''t make any sense either. The guards are known for their corruption, but they would not interfere with the lowborns like them. Was I placed here to be the fall guy? Sai''s mind went to all sorts of scenarios, but nothing felt right. It didn''t quite fit the puzzle; that was why he had been there in the first place.


    Only one thing was clear. Sai needed to get as far away from the bodies and the scene as possible. He didn''t want to be involved, nor could he afford it.


    Who was to say what they would do to someone like him, turning this matter to the authorities and claiming no involvement. They''ll only need one glance at his state to know that Sai was involved in some fight. They won''t wait to ask for his side of the story. All they''ll see is the corpses of the royal army, and they will peg him down as one of the bandits and execute him on the spot. He was smart enough to know you don''t have a say when you have no influence or power.


    Sai knew that whatever happened here was no longer his business, and he had to go as far as possible. He bit his lips as he looked around the mangled piles of bodies; some were more flesh than body, and he felt a pang of guilt.


    "It can''t be helped," he convinced himself, but the heaviness in his chest didn''t leave. Turning, he started to walk away from the site, the hay sticking to any exposed skin and prickling as he did so.


    As he collected himself to leave the premises, something in his gut urged him to look back at the bodies one last time-


    "You monster-"someone cried, the voice seeming to come from the first body that Sai found. But that''s impossible! Sai chalked it up to nerves.


    "Monsters!" the voice blurted out again.


    "What?" Sai stumbled, falling to his back, and he uttered in surprise. He blinked hard and found that nothing was awry. No one was there. He looked around again, cautious and scared.


    What was that, and how did he imagine that man''s voice to be that? He pushed at his palms to get up from the ground, but something held onto his wrist. A bloody severed hand.


    "You won''t get away from this," a voice to Sai''s left whispered, and a shiver travelled down his spine.


    Sai looked down at his hand and found nothing, but he could have sworn that he felt a hand gripping him tightly and holding him down.


    "I''m losing my mind; this can''t be happening", he uttered out loud to no one but himself, clear evidence of his insanity.


    He was shaking his head vigorously, trying to shake off the hysteria while on his knees, but unexpectedly, he felt something splatter on his face. He stilled in place. Slowly, he lifted his right hand to his face and ever so slowly brushed it across the wet splash he felt. He felt his lungs contract with the sharp inhale as he gasped at the sight of deep red. It was blood.


    "No, no, no, no, no," Sai jumped to stand, swaying as he did. The sudden movement laced his muscles with pain. He tried to bolt out, but a hand grabbed his shoulder, turning him to face a soldier, the one with a missing arm.


    "You? What are you?" the man sputtered out as blood gushed out his mouth. The blade displayed out on his feet where his dismembered right hand still gripped it. Before then, falling at Sai''s feet.


    Sai lurched a hand out to catch the man before he hit the ground, but his feet would not allow him to move. He watched as the man faded like a forgotten mirage, like sand swirling away with the wind.


    "What have you done?! Lieutenant Leonel!" Sai heard another scream, their voice echoing as if they were distant yet near. He shivered at the sound of the voice. It was the sound of someone in pure agony.


    "Who are you!?" Sai shouted out in the field. The sky had darkened considerably, and dusk was near. Shadows where there had been none were starting to appear.


    "No, what are you?" the voice echoed and rang in Sai''s head. The voice was haunted and vacant.


    "This is all in my head!" Sai groaned as the ringing in his head started to worsen. He held onto the sides of his head, hoping to block the sounds, but to no avail. He shook it hard, trying to shake off the crazy hallucinations. Sai hadn''t died; no, it was a lot worse. He had gone mad.


    "You''re a monster sent by the devils!" this time, Sai felt the sharp, cold steel pressed upon his throat, and he looked down to see that a broad sword was resting on his neck. Blood started to pour slowly into his chest. His fingers reached for his neck, and there he found that the skin where he was cut was raised. He watched the blood travel down until it soaked his tunic. A tunic that didn''t belong to him. "Thi-thi-this isn''t my shirt," Sai stuttered out, his voice brittle and unsteady, the chill in the air engulfing him.


    The clothing he wore the day before was a burlap sack he had fashioned to a shirt and thin linen trousers. But now, upon closer inspection, he could see that he was wearing a navy blue woollen coat over a linen tunic that was crusty and stained brown from aged blood.


    "Monsters like you should die!" the soldier roared; his eyes were bloodshot and manic as he raised his sword from Sai''s neck and swung it back to slash his neck.


    "You''re mistaken! This is all a misunderstanding, this is all -"Sai yelled out a desperate plea, repeating it over and over again. Sai, knowing that he would die, in defence, raised an arm out and was about to close his eyes, prepping for the end, a bright light illuminated in the form of a thick thread before then evolving into a slash.


    "What was that?" Sai shouted. He felt a warm liquid spray on his face. His mouth was agape, and some spilled in. He felt the warm liquid in his mouth; it was thick and tasted of copper coins.


    "What was that?!" one of the soldiers in the distance repeated Sai''s sentiments simultaneously while the one who held Sai at sword point was screaming in agony, blood spraying everywhere. Spraying even in Sai''s open mouth.


    "My arm! What have you done, you devil!" he groaned word for word, with each coming more strained after the other.


    Through the chaos, Sai got up, and once he regained his balance, he started running. Despite all the protests his body gave him, he ran. He didn¡¯t look back; no, he didn¡¯t want to look, not at all. The things that were unfolding before him had him questioning his sanity. But the pain was there. His shoulders throbbed with every thrust of his arms into the air. His leg muscles cramped into knots with every stride. His lungs burned and filled with blood as his heart pumped harder than ever. If the beating had not killed him, this would surely have done it.


    As Sai reached the edge of the field and entered a great forest, something reached out and hooked onto his ankles, making him trip so hard that he felt his shoulder pop out. It was a trap made with intricate knots of metal wiring. Then he heard them again. The voices and ghosts had followed him.


    "We''ve got him this time! Seize that murderous monster!" a man shouted with conviction, his voice carried through like they were really there.


    To Sai''s surprise, they were. And it wasn''t one man this time taking a turn to haunt him; it was all of them armed with their swords. They were all bloody, their uniforms torn in places, revealing gashing wounds. They were all lined up, ready for battle. But with whom? Him? Sai could not comprehend the thought since he found it incredulous.


    "Leave me alone!" Sai was determined to fight back this time, even if they were mere words.


    They started approaching Sai, but he was still entangled in the traps. They were mere steps away from him, each with their sword ready to strike a killing blow.


    "Please, please, please,¡± Sai begged the walking corpses that had somehow found life, like a coward, pleading for his worthless life.


    As the men were ready to kill Sai, another bright light shot into the air. This time, it was brighter and more powerful, and the land around them vibrated in synergy with the light, heat erupting from all around like an untamed wildfire. Finally, the taunting voices were silenced. And just like how they came, they vanished, briefly, unexpectedly, and into nowhere.


    The absolute darkness engulfed the area, and the stillness of the forest remained, with no winds to sway its branches and no moonlight to illuminate the way. Sai fell to his knees, hitting the cold, hard ground in the woods. He held on to the trunk of the nearby tree. Holding for dear life or what is left of it. His breaths were shallow. Each was laboured and hard to consume; his hair dripped with sweat to his brows, stinging his eyes. But he didn''t care; they blended the tears that were flowing.


    He didn''t know why, but somehow, he knew that his delusions would no longer follow him here; the nightmare had ended. They were merely ghosts.


    That was when it hit Sai. His eyes widened as he exhaled frosty breaths, goosebumps forming even under his sweat. His veins filled with icy blood, chilling him from the inside out. His gut clenched at the realisation. "No¡­it can''t be," he cried out, his voice shaky as he stammered. He shook his head in denial.


    "No," he uttered, but only a broken whisper this time.


    Those were neither delusions nor nightmares plaguing him; they were memories¡ªhis memories. Their ghosts reminded Sai of what had happened and transpired that left those men to such fates, fates he had ended.

 Chapter 7: The Flitting Sparrow

    There was no way that he could do such a thing. He was merely a tradesman working from place to place in different roles. He was a nobody. He had no motive to do this to anyone, especially men of the royal guards. Not only that, he too was beaten so severely only the night before; there was no way he could have been responsible for such a brutal massacre of highly trained men. Not Sai.


    Sai¡¯s breathing started getting heavier, his vision blurred, and white dots clouded them. His heart pumped so hard he could hear drumming in his ears. Knots formed in his stomach as he felt the acids rise, making him nauseous. Even though he had only experienced it once before and recently, he knew this feeling very well. He was about to pass out.


    He gripped the trunk tighter, stretching out his palm wide, and the rough surface of the tree scratched at his palm uncomfortably. His other arm grabbed his sweat-soaked shirt and pulled it away from his skin. It clung to him; the loose fabric somehow made him feel constricted and trapped in his own skin, and he wanted to crawl out. His breathing was growing heavier and more infrequent. Fear started to settle in his stomach. It was dark now, and unlike the previous night or the one he remembered, he felt unsettled, and no peace came to him.


    ¡­..


    Sai awoke to a familiar but groggy feeling. Like the ones people had when they had slept far too long, satiated by deep sleep. Or perhaps a brush with death. The fog soon lifted, but what settled in its wake was something much heavier and darker. It sat on the pit of his stomach, growing bigger and bigger; it ate at him. The guilt, the denial, the regret and most of all, the confusion. He had killed those men, and for what reasons he had none; that he knew that much and yet, as clear as that to the truth, his memories were a jumbled mess. An amalgamation of contradictions was what he was left with. They, too, had tried to kill him without reason. They just had unfortunate luck in that they did not succeed, and he did. But in all of this, did they deserve such brutal deaths?


    ¡°Nothing is making sense!¡± Heavy creases formed around Sai¡¯s mouth as he softly exclaimed. He followed with, ¡°How did this happen?¡± The thoughts came in a never-ending loop, but with no answers forming.


    Even Sai¡¯s questions did not make any sense to him. He felt that perhaps how was not as important as to why. Why had he killed those soldiers? Why was all of this happening to him? Why did his memories feel like they belonged to someone else? But even more so, why did it feel both terrifying and yet exhilarating to know he had killed those men? Men of titles, men of importance, men of power. The same men that think him beneath themselves, the same ones that scorned people like him. The same people who would not have given an ounce of care had it been him dead.


    The darkness of the night hid not only Sai¡¯s tears of shame and guilt but also the desire and lust that was growing within. He didn¡¯t understand it before, but he had felt the surging flow of energy, the pounding in his ears, and the intense beating of his heart. It was something not his. Something foreign and strange, and it now belonged to him.


    This unknown feeling was power. Sai didn¡¯t know how he knew, but he did. Now that it was his, he wanted to make sure he could keep it hidden. It has to remain hidden, he told himself.


    ¡°Over here¡±, a soft giggle followed.


    The bush around him rustled, and Sai¡¯s heart raced with a mixture of fear and anxiety. Had they found him? He didn¡¯t dare move a muscle from where he crouched.


    Two figures emerged from the shadows, and Sai melted in place, wanting to burrow deeper into darkness.


    ¡°Maurice, what if we get caught?¡± a woman whispered, her tone high and breathy and her excitement evident.


    ¡°Oh, sweetling, who will catch us?¡± The man¡¯s voice was thick and heady, cultivated and suave. Sai deduced that this must be Maurice, and he could not help but instantly think him to be a slimy man by the way he spoke.


    The woman let out another cheerful giggle, ¡°Maurice, can¡¯t you leave that old hag?¡± she asked sweetly, but her words were spiteful.


    ¡°Darling girl, you know that I can¡¯t¡±, Maurice coaxed in a sing-songy way. Then he added, ¡°She had trapped me with a child!¡±


    Sai felt his stomach turn and twist, this time not with anxiety but disgust.


    ¡°But Maurice!¡± she started; Sai could imagine she had been pouting.


    ¡°Enough. Nothing can be done about it. I won¡¯t leave my wife.¡± His voice rose as he spoke in finality.


    There was a long silence between the two intruders. The only sounds were the bights of nature: the wind fluttering the leaves, the crunches of twigs underneath the paws of critters, and the cry of the howls.


    ¡°Sniff¡­ sniff¡±, a mousey sound broke their battle of silence. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll¡­ leave¡­I¡¯ll leave you then,¡± the woman replied through sobs and hiccups as if broken by his revelations.


    Sai felt the rustle of the branches to his left. He held his breath and shut his eyes with anticipation. His jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth. Sweat proliferated from his forehead. If they see me, what will happen? He couldn¡¯t help the thoughts that flooded his mind.


    ¡°Wait, sweetheart!¡± Maurice exclaimed. Sai felt more rustling as he followed the woman. ¡°You¡¯ve misunderstood me,¡± he cajoled, his voice soft and gentle again.


    Sai peeked through the branches, looking for an opening to sneak past, but he found none that would not expose him.


    ¡°I have?¡± she replied, her obvious fickleness exploited by a few words of consolation.


    ¡°Yes¡­ yes!¡± Maurice quickly urged. ¡°You have! I mean, it¡¯s not that I don¡¯t want to be with you,¡± he rambled. ¡°It¡¯s not that I won¡¯t leave my wife; it¡¯s only that I can¡¯t, now that she is with a child, I¡¯m not that kind of man,¡± he persuaded.


    Sniff, sniff. ¡°But I-I-I can be the mother of your child!¡± she prompted before adding, ¡°I will look after it like my own!¡±


    ¡°No, no, I can¡¯t ask that of you!¡± Maurice replied in haste, his tone holding distress. ¡°You uh-¡°


    ¡°Uh, you¡ª¡± Maurice minced and repeated words, looking for the right ones. ¡°You are far too young! Yes, you are young motherhood!¡± He spoke as if finding Eureka.


    ¡°Are you implying that I won¡¯t be a good mother?¡± she said, her voice low and dejected, as she sniffled again.


    ¡°No, honey! I merely wanted to say that raising a child, especially one that isn¡¯t yours, would ruin your youth,¡± he quickly blocked. ¡°You know how much I adore that youthfulness of yours.¡± He gently added, his voice low with a cadence like honey, and his words were just as sweet¡ªsweet words practised and perfected to lure those seeking honey only to be trapped by a hornet.


    It seemed that those mere words were enough to entice the girl, who replied blissfully, ¡°Oh, but Maurice, you know I would adore any child of yours even if she births them.¡± She playfully tapped at his chest, but her tone was vicious.


    ¡°I know, I know you are just the sweetest girl there is,¡± he said as he dove for her neck while planting kisses. His arms snaked from around her back to the front laces of her bodice, untangling strings and laces. ¡°Now, enough of this; let¡¯s get to business,¡± he urged her as his hungry hands ploughed deeper down her top.


    ¡°Yes!¡± she said, breathless and gasping as she repeated, ¡°Yes, let¡¯s stop talking about that scheming hag!¡±


    Sai¡¯s face scrunched in disgust. There he was, feeling sorry for the girl, thinking she was being taken advantage of. Now, he knew she was as complicit, so he felt no further sympathy and was grossed out by the debauchery before his eyes. His legs had started to cramp from crouching in his position for a few minutes. Sai gritted his teeth as the convulsions and contractions knotted his muscles, shooting pain throughout his leg.


    When the two lovers had finally taken their passions to the ground, Sai was waiting for an opportunity to slip out from the bushes but could find none until they rolled further from him in their wild entangle. Finally, Sai wanted to rejoice but bit his lips and started planning his timely escape.


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    Maurice was now on top of the woman who was sprawled out on the ground, her arm held above her by Maurice¡¯s own hands.


    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± she said, her voice heady and breathless.


    ¡°I just wanted to admire you some more,¡± Maurice laid it thick. He removed it in one fell swoop as he reached for his tunic.


    Sai felt ashamed as he watched like some perverted depraved person. He didn¡¯t mean to but had no choice; he was looking for an opening. When Maurice leaned down to give the woman kisses, Sai persuaded himself it was time.


    Sai didn¡¯t look back as he pushed himself to move, weaving between the thick trees and uneven forest ground. His muscles screamed in protest, cramped from the long crouch, but the adrenaline coursing through him forced his legs forward. His breath came in short, sharp, shallow bursts as he fought to silence his movements. Behind him, the lovers¡¯ laughter and whispers that floated through the night air had stopped.


    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± a woman¡¯s voice hissed, breathy with panic.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± Maurice¡¯s voice followed, stern and annoyed. ¡°Show yourself!¡±


    Just as Sai was about to reach a clearing, the snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves seemed deafening. He froze in place momentarily before lurching himself to a full sprint. He couldn¡¯t slow down¡ªnot now.


    ¡°Keep going,¡± he told himself. ¡°Don¡¯t stop. Don¡¯t think.¡± From behind him, he heard Maurice shout, ¡°Hey! Stop!¡±


    Suddenly, his foot caught on a root hidden in the underbrush.


    ¡°Hngh!¡± Sai grunted as he hit the ground, knocking the air from his lungs. He clawed at the dirt beneath him, his fingers digging into the damp earth. His whole body shook, aching from exhaustion, fear, and inexplicable tension that clung to him like a second skin.


    No, I can¡¯t let them catch me! Sai felt his heart thundering as he scrambled from all fours and urged on, pushing at the branches and bushes around him. His arms stung from the scratches and stings of the prickles.


    Branches whipped at Sai¡¯s face, some hitting his eyes, as he sprinted blindly into the trees. Tears formed and clung to his cheeks from the slaps of the leaves. Panic fueled him, but exhaustion betrayed him as his pace began to falter, his legs like lead.


    ¡°I see him!¡± the woman cried out, closer now. ¡°Maurice, he¡¯s there!¡±


    Sai didn¡¯t dare look back. His vision blurred as he stumbled over roots and rocks, lungs burning as he gasped for air. But it wasn¡¯t enough. He could hear them gaining on him.


    ¡°You little rat!¡± Maurice roared, a dangerous fury unleashed. ¡°Stop running!¡±


    Sai¡¯s foot caught again, and this time he couldn¡¯t recover. He fell hard, his chin smacking against the ground. Stars exploded behind his eyes as he lay sprawled, dazed and breathless.


    A pair of hands seized his shoulders before a heavy knee rested between the planes of his shoulders. Sai blinked up through bleary eyes to see nothing but the ground. He twisted his body, trying to break free, but alas, he was pinned down hard.


    ¡°What do we have here?¡± Maurice hissed, shaking Sai hard enough to rattle his teeth. ¡°A spy? A thief? Doesn¡¯t matter, I¡¯ll beat it out of you!¡± he spat at the ground near Sai¡¯s face.


    Sai groaned, too helpless to respond. His limbs felt like dead weight.


    ¡°Maurice!¡± the woman¡¯s shrill and nervous voice rang out. After she caught up, she crouched beside them, her hair a dishevelled mess, her hands clutching her loose bodice, the laces hanging freely. Her wide eyes darted around the forest. ¡°What if someone hears us?¡±


    Maurice flipped Sai roughly onto his back. Even in the darkness, he saw Maurice¡¯s twisted expression. The man¡¯s face was flushed with anger, beads of sweat glistening on his brow.


    ¡°Quiet woman,¡± Maurice barked, no more the smooth libertine, not taking his glare off Sai. He grabbed the front of Sai¡¯s shirt, hauling him up slightly. ¡°Who are you? What are you doing out here? Did my wife send you?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t know your wife! I¡¯m no¡­¡± Sai rasped out in an instant, his throat raw and dry. ¡°I¡¯m no one¡­¡±


    ¡°Liar!¡± Maurice snapped, shaking him again. Sai¡¯s head lolled back, black dots swimming in his vision.


    ¡°I¡¯m nobody!¡± he repeated, his voice carrying the desperation of a frightened child.


    The woman touched Maurice¡¯s arm, her face pale with only her lips stained bright red. ¡°Maurice, just let him go. He¡¯s just some boy¡ªhe doesn¡¯t matter.¡± She tried to appeal


    Maurice¡¯s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly. ¡°He¡¯s seen us, idiot! If he runs his mouth, we¡¯re done for. My wife-¡± he started to say.


    ¡°Where did you get this?¡± Maurice said, not to the woman but to Sai, as his hands reached for a brooch attached to Sai¡¯s coat.


    ¡°I-I-I don¡¯t-¡° Sai eyed the glinting metal in Maurice¡¯s fingers and was confused, replied but was shaken violently by Maurice.


    ¡°Where¡­I said where?¡± Maurice¡¯s eyes went from fury to something else, like horror. His mouth slackened like the tension had been released.


    Sai looked down and, for the first time, noticed the pin attached to the coat he had been wearing. It was of a bronzed sparrow with a sprig between its beak.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡±, Sai finally found his voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s not mine.¡± he, too, wanted to know how he came to wear it and who it belonged to.


    Maurice¡¯s face darkened, his mouth thinning and wide with wild fury. His hands fisted at Sai¡¯s collar. He leaned closer to Sai¡¯s face before he spoke in a low grumble. ¡°Of course, it¡¯s not yours! This is my friend¡¯s broch!¡±


    Sai shook his head in answer; it wasn¡¯t to deny Maurice¡¯s claims but rather to express his own denials to the conflictions he felt within himself. Did I steal this from Maurice¡¯s friend, and if so, had he been one of those men I killed? Sai continued shaking his head, not wanting his thoughts to be true.


    Maurice¡¯s grip tightened, the veins in his arms bulging as though he might strangle the truth out of Sai. His truth. ¡°You¡ª you lying wretch! What did you do to him?¡± he spat, his voice trembling with rage and something else Sai couldn¡¯t quite place. Fear.


    ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­¡± Sai stammered, his voice weak, cracking under the weight of his confusion. His mind was a fractured mess, shadows and memories swirling like a storm he couldn¡¯t tame. The broch gleamed faintly in the low moonlight, mocking him, accusing him. He didn¡¯t know how he¡¯d come by it, but a sick feeling told him that somewhere, in the recesses of his broken memories, he did know.


    ¡°Maurice!¡± The woman grabbed his arm again, her voice sharper this time. Her pale face looked ghostly in the moonlight. ¡°Please, we need to go. If someone finds us here¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, not until I know how this rat got this!¡± Maurice ripped the broch from the coat. The ripping sound sent birds flying into the sky. ¡°Listen to me, boy,¡± Maurice growled, his voice low and lethal.


    ¡°You¡¯ll tell me where and how exactly you came to have this!¡± Maurice¡¯s voice was low, and his words carried his threats.


    Sai wanted to, but it started to happen again. The same thing had happened to him when the soldiers found him. He remembers now; it lulled him then, too. ¡°Please...¡±


    Sai¡¯s lips parted as he tried to speak, but no words came. The edges of his vision blurred further, and a cold sweat broke over him. A strange sensation coiled in his chest¡ªthe ember of force flickered again, hotter this time, crawling up his spine. His heart thudded, not from fear now but from something else. Something darker. ¡°You have to go!¡± he grabbed Maurice¡¯s hands, still fisting his collars, and pleaded, ¡°Go now if you want to live.¡±


    ¡°You son a whore¡±, Maurice¡¯s voice thundered; Sai tried his hardest to cling to it, but he was being dragged deeper into oblivion. ¡°You¡­ you dare threaten me?!¡±


    ¡°Please, Maurice!¡± The woman pleaded, her eyes flickering toward Sai, pity or perhaps curiosity. ¡°Let¡¯s go back now!¡±


    You¡¯re wrong to pity me; you should pity yourselves, Sai thought bitterly, words seeming to elude his mouth.


    ¡°Shut it, woman! You can find your way back! ¡± Maurice spat out, shaking Sai, whose eyes were getting heavier.


    With trembling hands, she tightened her bodice and left Maurice, turning back only once to see whether he would follow her. He did not. As she melted into the forest¡¯s shadows, Maurice¡¯s voice began to fade, swallowed by the whispers of leaves and the hum of unseen insects.


    He reached for the broch in Maurice¡¯s hand. ¡°What do you think you are doing!¡± Maurice bellowed, startled by Sai¡¯s guts.


    Sai ignored him as if he were in his own world and turned the sparrow over, running his thumb across its polished surface. The sparrow¡¯s wings looked poised to take flight, and the sprig in its beak was small and delicate. Sai¡¯s brow furrowed. Why did it feel so familiar?


    You killed his friend, and now you will do the same to him. The thought whispered through his mind, sinister and cruel. It jolted him from the slumber that started to pull him.


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t kill him¡±, Sai yelled out hoarsely to himself, shaking his head violently. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that only made it worse. Flashes of memory, quick and brutal, burst behind his eyelids. A blade. A scream. Blood splattered across the stone. Sai¡¯s hand jerked away from the broch as though it had burned him. He pressed his palms into the dirt and grabbed a handful to steady and ground himself, but it was too late.


    ¡°I knew it! You killed my friend!¡± Maurice¡¯s voice was full of conviction. His hands wrapped around Sai¡¯s neck, ready to strangle him.


    His heart thundered as the wind picked up, carrying with it a strange sound. Whispers.


    Sai¡¯s head snapped up, his eyes scanning the darkness, and finally, Maurice¡¯s hands faltered. He looked around as if alerted, waiting for another assailant to emerge from the dark. The forest looked the same¡ªtwisting branches and crooked shadows¡ªbut there was something unnatural about it now. The air felt colder. Heavier. Like it was alive.


    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Sai asked Maurice, his voice but a whisper.


    ¡°You crazy fool. ¡° Maurice let his collars go, the thud from Sai falling and echoing throughout. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you.¡° He stood over Sai¡¯s body, intending to stand on his neck.


    But Sai scrambled to his feet, shaking his head. He begged, ¡°Don¡¯t do this; they¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°You little shit, you planned this, didn¡¯t-¡° Maurice clutched the dagger from his belt, ready for a fight.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± Sai interrupted and croaked, his voice barely audible. He didn¡¯t expect an answer.


    And yet, something did answer.


    ¡°You¡¯re not who you think you are, Sai.¡±


    The voice was soft, disembodied, and seemed to come from everywhere. Sai¡¯s blood ran cold. He twisted his head in place, trying to find its source, but the forest was empty. He was alone with Maurice.


    No reply. Just the wind hissing through the trees.


    Sai¡¯s breathing grew ragged again. He felt it¡ªthat other feeling creeping over him. The power. It clawed its way up from the depths of his being, hot and insistent, as though it was alive. And for the first time, Sai wasn¡¯t sure if it was something to fear¡­ or something to embrace.


    ¡°You killed them because you had to,¡± the voice whispered again. This time, it came from behind Sai. He whipped around, his heart pounding so hard that it might burst. But there was no one there.


    ¡°Stop it!¡± Sai shouted into the night. ¡°Leave me alone!¡±


    ¡°You were playing with me! There¡¯s no one here,¡± Maurice spoke as he looked around the empty forest. ¡°There¡¯s no one here!¡± he repeated as he lurched his body in Sai¡¯s direction, intending to stab him in the chest, but it was too late.


    Sai, who knew what would happen, could only shake his head, fearing everything that would happen and having no power to stop it.


    The forest didn¡¯t listen.


    The voice didn¡¯t listen.


    ¡°You¡¯ve¡­we¡¯ve only just begun.¡±


    Sai collapsed to his knees, clutching his head as the whispers echoed inside his skull. Images flashed faster now¡ªunrecognisable faces twisted in terror, hands reaching out for him, blood pooling at his feet. And above it all, that feeling of exhilaration. That power.


    It was his.


    And he couldn¡¯t escape it.


    ¡°Sleep for now,¡± a soft and soothing whisper curled through his mind. The voice was familiar yet distant, like a memory long forgotten. ¡°We shall meet again soon.¡±


    Sai¡¯s body went limp as darkness enveloped him, and Maurice¡¯s shouting faded into a dull hum. The last thing Sai registered was the pair of pale, bare feet stepping closer, the voice lingering like smoke in the recesses of his mind.


    How strange, he thought fleetingly, to feel so comforted in the presence of the unknown.


    And then, there was nothing.

 Chapter 8: The First Seers

    our house gains, Janir. It¡¯s about what we stand to lose.¡±


    yourself remind me of that at every chance.¡±


    When the First Light dims, shadows shall rise, and the blood of the Drifter¡¯s Blade will burn through the land, marking the end of old houses and the dawn of the unnamed and damned. Darkness will loom, and only through the blood of old times will light come out. ¡±


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Isandul Relarke


    is relevant is that the world is shifting, Janir. And Telram must choose its place before we are forced into one.¡±


    no one know about their existence, their part as one of the twelve - the thirteen? People should know about this! The prophecy and about the first seers.¡± Janir¡¯s head spun from all the revelations, his breath caught as he flooded Reimar with questions and statements, overwhelmed by it all.


    ¡°This is something you and I shouldn¡¯t even know about, let alone others.¡± Reimar grabbed Janir¡¯s arms, holding him tightly. His tone was urgent and alarmed. ¡°You cannot reveal any of this to anyone!¡±


    It is the time that our world will be cleansed of darkness, and a new era shall begin with the fall of the great houses.¡±


    hy, then, did his skin prickle at the thought? Why had he felt so scared?


    if we are not ready when the storm breaks, we will fall like all the others.¡±


    they will come for you¡ªfor us¡ªwhether we are ready or not. But for now, let¡¯s start with an alliance that will strengthen our house.¡±