Chapter 52 - Chapter 78

Chapter 52; Setting Sail

/Travel

This was the last time Adi was going to see the beautiful red, glass palace of Rys, atop the Fang Peaks, for a long while. The snowy breeze was something he barely felt now; he was used to it. The bustle of the townsmen and women floating about, lighting fires, and doing their work brought a smile to his face as usual. To think he was able to find comfort in being transported to a different planet in less than two months was crazy for him. He couldn’t believe it himself. And yet, something felt so natural here. He felt home here more than he ever did at earth, even though occasionally he’d remember the routine he had in London or his time with his family and the tragedy and all that. 

He walked into the palace and climbed to the first floor, going straight to Rys’ chamber. The little boy sat there, red glistening all around him, staring out the window. His palace faced an open view of the entire city, King, and he told Adi that he would often look out that very window and contemplate his decisions. 

‘The black is off you, I see?’ Rys asked, meekly looking towards the skyline. He was talking about the coalescent mist that formed around Adi’s body. 

‘I…I think so. Only when I get really emotional it sort of…forms back around me.’ 

‘Would you say it is kind of like…your stutter?’ 

How’d he hit that so spot on? He thought, after giving his words a moment of contemplation. 

‘It really is! I mean…I don’t particularly stutter, but the occasional one slips in.’ 

‘Kind of like the mist? It’s nearly in your control, but you still have some ways to go, wouldn’t you say?’ 

‘I do. At least from what I’ve gathered. Look, Rys, I need to ask you something.’ 

‘Well, I’m right here.’ 

‘The Dark Wielder’s Palace. Does it show my entire path?’ 

‘In which way, my boy?’ 

‘Well, it shows me glimpses into the future. I mean…I can already see certain things because I’m a prophesier but it’s as if the Rathor, that creature in the vision, he has his own view on the future.’ 

‘Think of it as two different perspectives.’

‘And they’re not related?’ 

Rys got up off his knees and slowly made his way to him. 

‘No. You can see into the future because of the Fibre, and you are The Dark Wielder because of the creature you keep seeing. He’s the one who chose you and he, too, sees these things.’

‘And how do you know all that?’ 

‘Well, for one, I’m the one all these prophesiers take guidance from. Are you aware of that?’ 

He sniggered, ‘Yeah.’ 

‘And secondly, a boy in my own position has to study his history. Obviously, I know of these things.’

‘Even the creature? I mean, how could you know that a dead Rathor would guide a vision like that if you’ve never had it?’ 

Silence. 

‘Because that wasn’t the last Rathor I’d interacted with. Not long ago, I was a worker myself in Layonas. I was a prophesier in their planet—but with a far lower profile than the one I sport here. And that is where I came to know my knowledge on the Rathors and their royalty. And the story of The Dark Wielder.’ 

‘What is it? The story?’ 

‘Well, a long, long time ago, in Kaandor, there was a boy. Not more than my age, least in appearance. The boy was poor. Broken. Homeless. He had a rag which he’d wear but he felt more boots hit against his chest than he ever did cloth.’
Adi, concerned, grabbed a chair and sat down to listen to his tale. 

‘The boy had a frown no one had ever seen before. A look so lost in the depths of river—none who ever saw him knew what he pondered about, looking at the river across his hometown. A little village outside the capital.

‘Often, he’d beg for money, but he’d never look a man straight in the eye, until one day, he was on the bridge crossing over the river. His eyes were fixed on the water, when he went up to a man asking him for a Pennicle. The man refused, staring at the boy confusedly. He asked him, “Why don’t you look me in the eye?” But all the boy ever answered with was, “A Pennicle, kind lord, please.” The man, frustrated asked the boy again, and again, and again, until he finally took a knife and stabbed the boy straight through his gut. Yet the boy didn’t flinch. He continued staring at the river, until he tumbled and fell across the bridge straight into it, given a little push by the man. When he reached the bottom of the river, he saw it. He saw the part of the river he always stared at. The little fish he never caught, the light that never entered his eyes. A small abyss of darkness. Of glowing black light. And all we know is that the boy grabbed it with his own palm, eyes filled with the beams of darkness that he saw.’

‘And…and I’m next in line of that legacy?’ 

‘Yes, Adi Walkman. Earthian. Prophesier. You are The Dark Wielder. And you will know the path you have to take.’ 

What a responsibility. He thought, shuddering.

***

‘It has been an honour, King Tristan.’ Adi said, one knee on the ground. He looked down at the polished marble floor and smiled softly, ‘I’ll miss the comfort of your palace, my king.’ 

‘Ah!’ The king laugh, patting him on the back and bidding him to get up. He put his hand on his shoulder. Behind Adi stood Nathanial, The Lord Chaimberlain of Gr’Erhin, the former heir to Loazer, The Hunter. 

‘You’ve been a good companion to have over the last two months, my friend. Stirred more news and wildness than we’ve had in the last five years!’
Adi smiled and bowed to the king, before moving back and letting Nathanial talk to him. Once the goodbyes were said, Biv, Nathanial, Grace and Adi set out on horseback towards the mountainside of the city to pick up another traveller on the journey—an assassin named Brompen Grassholder. 

Who the fekh names their child Brompen? Adi thought, smirking to himself. He’d learned how to ride a horse rather well, so he held a confident, almost gloating posture atop his stallion. 

‘Think you look too fine, eh?’ Biv joked, laughing. 

‘Oh bugger off, you foreigner.’ Adi said, laughing back. 

The company of four made their way through the ice covered land of King, all of them dressed in furs and leathers, warm and comfortable on their horses. A formation of Crocs both behind and in front of the company followed through with them and right till their destination. About a twenty-fourth later, they arrived at the doorstep of a small cottage in the outskirts of the city. The house was made of bricks and had a plain, grey tinge to it. The door, too, was small and had a door knocker on it. 

Biv got off his horse, taking his time to adjust his heavy furs, and walked up to the doorstep. He held the door knocker and banged it hard against the door three times. Out came a man with an unruly beard and an unbrushed set of long hair, dark circles almost engraved under his eyelids. He held a mug of what seemed to be ale in his hand and wore long, loose woollen cloths which hung about his body like drapes. 

‘What in Krilin’s grave do ye want.’ 

‘Come on, we set out today Bromp! You forget already?’ 

‘Oh, oh, yeah, that’s right,’ he said, words fading into the background, ‘I almost forgot, it’s just that…I don’t fekhing care!’
Biv seemed startled as he took a step back and made way for the man. He went inside for a couple of minutes and came out seemingly more equipped. 

‘Alright, company! This is Brompen! Brompen, meet the company! That’s Lord Nathanial Rolan, his scribe Grace, then we have the prophesier, and The Dark Wielder, Adi, and myself!’ 

‘Adi! The uh…The Dark Wielder! Pleasure to meet you.’ 

‘Yours as well.’ 

‘Y’know I uh…I trained to kill your kind. The “Wielders”. I’m a Wielder assassin, I’ll have ye blonde arse know.’ 

‘Well maybe you should’ve trained how to speak first.’ 

Brompen’s face stiffened as Biv began smiling. ‘When you learn how to be cheeky, Adi?’ He asked. 

‘Cheeky is it?’ Brompen asked, ‘Well I think it’s being a plain fekh, that is.’ 

Pleasurable company on this trip. 

‘Why do we need to take him, again?’ Adi asked, turning towards Nathanial. 

‘King Tristan’s orders. Something about safety.’ 

‘Right.’ 

Brompen got on his horse and the company of five alongside the Crocs set towards the harbour. Finally, when they reached, Adi looked over the skyline he was once overlooking two months ago. He remembered when he got into that boat in North Cornwall and set sail. He remembered floating across the galaxy and it all made him think; it made him think about how far he’d come from there. And that thought made him smile.
‘Alright! Back on my boat, Adi! You happy?’ Biv asked, turning towards him. 

‘Yeah. Really happy, Biv.’ 

‘Well, I hope there’s enough room on your boat. I’d offered to take my ship but you insisted, my friend.’ Nathanial said, smiling sarcastically. 

‘Yah! Like Adi said, low profile.’ He said, waving his hands downwards. 

The five of them got off the wooden plank and bid farewell to the Crocs who overlooked them as Biv loosened the harness and set the boat free. 

‘I grab the Gem and we set, eh?’ 

‘Biv! Let me try.’ Adi said, walking up to the little locked cabinet. He eyed him suspiciously, until he bent down and held the lock out. 

‘You got it, man! Just hold your wrist out and give it a small flick.’

Adi did what he asked and gave his wrist a small flick. A surge of black light shot out of his palm and straight through the lock, burning it with no means of elegance like Biv, but rather tearing through it and ruining the lock entirely. 

‘Oh, is okay. You get better at it soon, I sure!’ 

Biv bent down in front of the cabinet and opened it, fishing out a rundlet of ale and the glowing Gem to put on the front of the boat. He walked over to the edge and fixated it to the front, a surge of light flowing through the wood of the boat. 

‘A’right, is us! You ready for another journey through the galaxy, Adi?’ 

‘You put a different Gem than last time. This one’s red.’ 

‘Cause I go to a different dimension, no? We not go to Ascen, where Earth is. We go Eastward. To Layonas. The Gems for that place be red, man.’ 

Adi and Biv held onto the oars, the other three sitting beside them, and they began rowing. Rowing back into the sunset from where Adi came to his home. His real home. A place where he felt like he belonged. Soon, a cluster of stars began appearing into the sky, turning the light blue canvas of dawn into the smudged darkness of the night. Yet it was a darkness illuminated by millions and millions of spots of light. Little glowing blue spheres lit the night sky, the blue clouds of other galaxies decorating it. Soon, other planets became visible—but not the planets that looked familiar to Adi like last time. This time, he could see green planets, grey planets—planets of different shapes and sizes and colours, and there were hundreds of them! They surrounded they entire sky—each of them glowing in their own light. They coloured the picture of night that he had. He then felt the rockiness of the sea fade away. 

We’re floating! 

He looked down to find more stars and planets below him—he floated in the mist of clarity, in the mist of beauty and phenomenon. 

And he grabbed a pint of ale and looked straight on ahead. From the last time he rode the galaxies to this time—he now felt that his life had purpose. 

***

Chapter 53; The Capture

/Shen’s House

Rean, all ten spies, were sitting in a circle in Shen’s house, alongside Theren, discussing their business and proceedings. Though they were they official workers of espionage for the entire kingdom, Theren still preferred to keep a low profile. 

‘So by when will you get back to me on that matter, Sir Muriel?’ She asked.

‘Well, by whatever time suits my convenience. If, that suits your convenience my lady. Your convenience comes first.’ 

She found herself annoyed at his demeanour still, but put her feelings aside as she didn’t want to lose his services a second time. 

‘Your convenience is always mine, Sir.’ 

‘Oh, my lady? That’s a first for me.’ 

Keep it cool. She thought, as she tried to control her temper. 

‘Isolde, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where are we with our Crocodiles?’ 

‘Given the amount of death and destruction we suffered at The Bremingade, my lady, our forces will take a while to rejuvenate. The Higher Lords at Haimar have spoken to the Southern kingdoms and, given our circumstance of the Bremingade battle, they have agreed to delay the debt by five years.’ 

‘Five years? Stubborn Alfred agreed to five years? That’s brilliant!’ She exclaimed. 

‘We’ve introduced stricter war laws and are now recruiting at a far faster pace than we were before. We are on course to rebuild our forces.’ 

‘What about mercenaries? Can’t we buy soldiers? Loazer has the largest gold reserves in the world.’ 

‘The problem with that, my lady, is loyalty.’ Muriel said, stepping in, letting his gown droop all over the place. ‘Most of the decently acceptable mercenary companies are in Layonas. And none of them would ever give their full loyalty for more than, say, a single job.’ 

‘He’s right…Well, we’ll just have to grow our soldiers here. Get smithies on the job and craft how much ever armoury needs to be made, Isolde. Spend away.’ 

‘Military over money.’ Muriel said, smiling wide. 

Oh, he’s insufferable! She thought, subtly rolling her eyes. 

‘Alright. What other matters do we need to discuss?’ 

‘Well, there’s one last thing, my lady.’ Isolde said, shuffling around his place, ‘The prisoners from Galathground are now halfway through their journey. They arrived at the checkpoint at Southern Loazer and are beyond the point of no return. So…it’s final. They’re gone for good.’ 

And so her brother was, and truly was, gone. He was not to come back forever, even though she’d initially sentenced him for eighteen years. A part of her felt terribly sad at the fact that this was the fate he had to suffer, but her rationale overcame that feeling. She knew what she was doing was the right discourse. And yet she felt sad all along. 

‘Alright. Disperse then.’ She said, getting up and walking out of the house. 

‘My lady, let me send some Crocs—’

‘No.’ She said, storming out of the house and down the spiralling staircase. Higher lords and ladies had been worried for her safety as she liked strolling about alone, but she’d often make sure to wear a disguise or cover her tracks well when she was out alone. After all, she was a spy, and she’d been doing it for years. 

The Innkeeper at The Ages of Wood had asked for her to make her way back to his “Lodging” where they’d met last. He had some business to discuss—some more errands for her to run. Over the past few weeks, she’d been doing everything he was asking her to do—the littlest of things, as well as some big things. She knew that she felt like they were pulling her strings, but she also knew that in the long run, the entire operation would benefit her rule. They worked on the word of a prophesier who commanded for only the good of the Kingdom. 

No one should know that I’m working with them…no one. 

She passed the outskirts of Kenneth—the large, green fields painted with the colours of green and orange twisted trees—the fall season made them shed their leaves violently, and so their was a strong but blissful wind always flowing through the airs of Northern Loazer—dreaming and travelling across the skies and grounds alike—finding its way through a journey so long and yet so untiring, and to think that the winds were lifeless. Though a few minutes later, Theren parted ways with the brushing landscapes of the outskirts of Kenneth and entered the darker, shadier alleys of Unith. Few were out at this hour, as the wiola set, for the danger of this place was well known after night time. There wasn’t much that her father Keran had done to fix the state. 

Walking through an alleyway towards the Lodge, she heard a swift noise from behind her. Like a footstep in the dark. Her heart quickened its pace and she silently put her hand on the hilt of her dagger, quickening her footsteps. Another sound from somewhere ahead emerged, and all of a sudden she could see a figure in the shadow of a building ahead. The man’s black shadow was lifeless. Pressed against the building, it was completely flat. And then she realised. That was not a shadow.
Suddenly, the man started running towards her. She grabbed her dagger and held it up towards him, only to feel a hand cover her mouth from the back.
‘Mmmhh!’ She cried as she struggled around in a strong grip. She had hold of her dagger, which she plunged into the man behind her. He cried out lout and let her go. She could feel sweat trickling down her body and the pulse pressing against her forehead. She turned the other way and ran as fast as she could, silent but fast footsteps behind her audible. She turned left in between two houses, hoping to escape. But she found none—no escape. Only a set of wide green eyes that stared her right in the face, across a window of one of the houses. She grabbed her knife and plunged it straight ahead, but the smiling figure knocked it right out of her hand, grabbing her by her waste and throwing her across the floor. She felt her head slam against the ground, everything around her becoming fuzzy, until she wiped her head to feel the blood leaking out of her skull. 

Slowly, she found herself to be one with the darkness once more.

***

‘Uhhh…’ She groaned as she felt her stomach pain. Slowly, sounds started entering her ear as she left the abyss of emptiness. Reality kicked in with sore muscles and an aching, bandaged forehead. The sound of the ocean splashing against her sides awoke her, as the taste of salt entered her mouth. Groaning, she opened her eyes which were covered in rheum. She half heartedly wiped it off with her fingers though she felt her entire arm ache as she tried to. 

‘Wha…where…?’ She slowly got up to find herself in a boat. Far away from the coast of Kais. Her eyes suddenly widened as she jumped up in her place. 

‘WHAT?!’ She looked around, taking a moment to comprehend everything, until she realised that they were two strange men on the boat with her. 

Without saying another word, she reached out for a dagger, only to find nothing. The man then turned around and grabbed a leather wrapped dagger, waving it back and forth. 

‘That’s yours, innit?’ 

She lunged towards him to try and grab it, but he just kicked her straight back. 

‘Uff!’ She cried as she felt the pain travel across her entire body. 

‘Don’t try any funny business with us, eh? We’re just here to do our job.’ 

***

Chapter 54; The Ulken Nightmare

/Ulke, Layonas

And there they were. At the Grand Pass of the kingdom of Kaandor, in a new planet Layonas. They were at the City of The Knights—Adi hadn’t heard enough of this place: Ulke, The great underpass. 

After a thirteen hour journey filled with songs and ale, Biv had told him they had to keep themselves busy in a trip across the galaxies, otherwise there was a chance they could go mad, the company of five had finally reached Layonas. He’d heard of the sun here—the conqueror, which gave off oppressive heat waves every two weeks. Luckily, those didn’t reach the edge of the world—this city, which was by the coast. After harbouring their ship, the five of them bought horses and crossed a few leagues of flatland. They were making their way to Ulke. 

‘So, what’s it like?’ Adi asked. Brompen was by his side, grumpy as ever. 

‘I don’t know, some fookhin mountains or som’n.’ 

‘Ay, relax buddy!’ Biv called out, trotting over to Adi. They travelled on a course gravel path and so the trotting of the horses was rather loud. 

‘Ulke is place like you never see. The conquerer, she never reach this city. And so you have snow. You have green. And you have the great gate. The gate of the knights. You never see something like!’ 

He was intrigued. He’d heard a tremendous amount on the boat already, but nothing about how it looked. 

‘Snow and green? What do you mean?’ He asked, turning his head in front to catch a view of the shaded mountains in the horizon. 

‘It’s like this, my friend,’ Nathanial said, catching up, ‘There’s an underpass. The greatest one you ever saw. So big that it’s a city. And on its left—spring. The green coloured flavour of trees and grass covering all the mountains. Yet on the left—ice. Snow. Chilly blizzards storm all across the escaping surface of the rocks—avalanches plague those who dare travel across it.’ 

‘Yet, on left side of underpass, there’s travel set up all across the top.’

Wow…Adi thought to himself, totally intrigued by the idea of this place. 

‘I’m sure you’re freakin lying, though.’ He said, all of a sudden. 

‘What? I do not lie!’ Nathanial said, frowning. 

‘Yeah, well bite me. A place like that can’t exist.’ 

He laughed, ‘Okay, m’ro. You’ll believe it when you see it.’ 

Bullshit, I’m not buying it. They’re tricking me, aren’t they? He thought, skeptical. 

‘So, Adi, I wanna talk to you, yeah?’ Biv said, asking him to quicken the pace on his horse. The two of them went ahead of the rest. 

‘You know that you must learn how to, eh…control your power, yes?’ 

‘Yeah. Rys mentioned it.’ 

‘Well, my friend, he bestow that upon me. I must teach you.’ 

He smiled, ‘Really? Well, how good are you?’ Adi asked, curious. 

‘Well, good enough to best you in a duel!’ 

‘Ha! I doubt it. It’s been three weeks since I’ve had this. And I’m sure I can—’

‘And I Wield for twenty three years.’ 

‘But you’re not The Dark Wielder. I am.’ 

Biv frowned at him and looked away for a second—off into the horizon. 

‘Perhaps your power is greatest. But I know technique! I teach it to you. Make you the best you can be, eh?’ 

‘Biv, how did you become a Wielder?’ 

‘Oh, as all others! Through the Enlightenment.’ 

‘But how did you earn that?’

‘Oh, Adi. My road has been long, tough one. There was many loss to reach here.’ He said, shifting about on his horse. The back of his silky hair fell flush on his neck, and the little fringe at the front bounced up and down as he rode his horse. ‘People had to die to get me where I am. The world for a Wielder has not been a good one, especially in their pasts. Thas’ why he don’t be a Wielder. Thas’ why our King don’t help make him one,’ he said, pointing to Nathanial, ‘that man not gone through the rough roads of live, y’know?’ 

‘And what about you? What was that rough road?’ 

‘Well, I had to survive The Fall. It was a terrible breakage in the ground of my home back in Erhin. There were sacrifices I have to make. Years ago. Only to seek life I got this gift.’
He extended his hand and raised his palm, letting it glow white against the gravel path. 

‘And you, Adi? What suffrage have you gone through? To become The Dark Wielder.’ 

‘Well…I don’t know. I don’t know why I was chosen, but…but I think you’re right.’ 

‘What way, man?’ 

The horses hooves against the gravel soothed Adi’s mind. It gave him room to think as he stared towards the horizon. Towards the coverage of nature on this planet. It was truly beautiful. 

‘Well, I…I didn’t have the best of childhoods.’ 

Biv looked ahead and nodded slowly. He understood what Adi meant. He knew that it was best left untold. 

‘Is tough man. We don’t get chosen for no reason.’ 

‘Then why have all the Rathors before me been The Dark Wielders? If they were born into royalty, and hadn’t suffered, why them?’

‘Simple. It carried on in their blood. You’ve heard the tale of the River Boy, right? Layon Rathor?’ 

‘Yeah. I heard it briefly from Rys.’ 

‘And how does your life get any harder than that?’ 

‘It can’t, leastways I don’t think so.’ 

‘The River Boy was the one who truly suffered. He took fall for all generations to come. Of his family. You feel, m’ro?’ 

A few hours later, Adi found himself in conversation with Nathanial. They were all edging closer to Ulke—the skyline was filled with mountains. He couldn’t see the green they talked about but he saw caps of snow and blizzards floating up ahead. 

‘Well, my father was a temperamental man, Adi. He always managed to find himself at the extremes of things. One day, he led a revolution greater than any seen on my planet. The next day he was a drunk pig who sat on the throne and did barely anything. All his cover-lords handled the Kingdom while all he did was expand the size of the Rolan Manor!’ 

‘What was his name again?’ 

‘Keran, Krilin save him.’ 

‘Lord Keran Rolan. It has a nice ring to it.’ 

‘Had.’ Nathanial said, feeling sour and sad. ‘As much as he defiled himself in his later years, he was the one who taught me everything I know. The first ruler on all the planets and kingdoms to pick a younger son to be his successor. I couldn’t believe it myself. I always thought it would be Rothrin.’

‘And yet your family falls apart.’ Adi said, looking ahead and nearly smirking. What the hell is the matter with you, Adi?! Are you fekhing crazy? He thought, whacking himself. 

‘I—I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. It was just a play of jest.’ 

‘No. You’re right. We are falling apart.’ 

He frowned, ‘What do you mean?’ 

‘I…yesterday I received a piece of rather…shocking news.’ 

‘What, what is it?’ 

He took a long breath. His eyes meek, his skin pale. 

‘My younger brother, Lothar Rolan, was found in the palace drunk. He’d lost control over his thoughts, and, and,’ his voice quavered, ‘he stabbed Rothrin. He stabbed my older brother!’ He nearly yelped, ‘Four times. In the gut and in the leg and all that. It was gruesome. Terrible to hear, I…’ 

Adi found himself short for breath. ‘That’s terrible, I’m so…so sorry, my lord.’ 

He thought about what Nathanial told him, and the more he contemplated it, the more rage he felt within. How dare his younger brother do something like that? 

Doesn’t it remind you of someone? A dark side of him thought. 

Still…that fekhah! He could feel his blood boiling. 

‘Nathanial. Heed not in worry. I’ll kill the blessed piece of utter shit for you.’ 

All Nathanial could feel, though, was sadness. He found lost eyes, staring off into the ground, filled with tears. He could barely control his stallion. 

‘It’s alright, m’ro. We’re on a mission.’ He said, wiping his eyes, ‘We should not let these dark thoughts distract us.’ 

Adi moved closer to him and put his hand on his shoulder, with a firm grip. 

‘I’m telling you. I will do it. One day, my friend.’ 

Nathanial stared at him for a moment, until he finally nodded. But it was one of regret. One of loss. 

After about an hour later, the company finally approached Ulke. Their horses rode on flatland, and right up ahead was the enormous mountain city. Adi’s eyes were filled with wonder. 

‘I’m sorry, who was freakin’ lying?’ Nathanial asked, smirking and riding ahead. 

It was the most majestic place he’d ever seen in his life. The mountains were huge—bigger than the Fang Peaks, even. Only the spring green mountains on the left were smaller. Apparently they’d been shortened by years of craftsmanship and hammers. Holes were drilled into the sides of the mountains to give light into the great underpass city—Ulke. 

But the sight was something to never forgot. The blizzards rained catastrophe on the right, and yet the peace of spring spread uninterrupted on the left. The two sides of nature brought right in front of each other without clashes, but with harmony. It was something he’d never seen or could have even imagined. 

And he stood right in front of it. 

‘Alright, we’re going to take the overpass. By the spring mountains.’ Nathanial said, pointing to the left.

A few minutes later, they crossed the massive gate.  It was light green in colour and had the depictions of snakes across it. Ulke was Kaandorian territory, and so it, too, was under the rule of Koralisar Rathor. 

Thinks he’s The Dark Wielder, is he? Adi thought, scoffing. 

As the five of them made their way through the mountain passageway, on the left of the gate into the city, a few of the soldiers at the gate eyed them suspiciously. 

‘They heard about the attack at the Bremingade,’ Nathanial said, casually chewing a loaf of bread, ‘they’re taking some sort of excessive precaution towards travellers.’  

‘What, eyeing a guy and letting him pass? That’s your idea of precaution?’ Adi said. He really felt himself to be far more confident in his demeanour than he was those two months ago. He’d surprise himself sometimes with the things he’d say and the tone with which he’d say them. 

‘Apparently so.’

***

It had been about a day since they’d began their journey through the overpass of Ulke. Adi was dying to see the city underneath—there were levels of houses built on top of each other, and large chunks of rock which jutted out from inside the cave wherein the city was, where houses were built and other buildings. Ladders and intricate staircases extended all the way across these buildings, stringing them all together. He’d seen all of this through the various air holes built into the top of the mountains—they were meant to allow light into the cave city. 

‘No, you must focus. Fix your gaze me, son!’ Biv said, raising his chin. The five of them were taking a break from passing through the mountain—Brompen already laid back, bathing in wiola’s light. Meanwhile, Nathanial and Grace prepared lunch while Biv and Adi trained. They’d found a relatively private spot to conduct their business, where the two of them were covered by a boundary of shrub and trees. 

‘Meeson?’ Adi asked, ‘What the hell are you saying?’ 

‘Oh, is nothing, you listen man! Bend your right knee in front.’ He said, pushing his hand against Adi’s leg, positioning it differently. 

‘Alright! Nie! Now, extended your left arm, and open your hand—no, no, your entire palm shoul’ be flat m’ro.’ 

‘Alright, there you go.’ He said, flattening it as much as he could. 

‘Now, you must calm yourself. You must let the energy, all that light, flow through your entire body! You must feel it. Connect with it, before it leaves you. Do you sense it?’ 

Mist coalesced around his body—black mist, and his eyes turned black. He closed his eyes as he began to feel a surge of light, dark light, travel through his veins. It felt so powerful that it made him feel sick. 

‘And…jerk your hand forward!’ Biv said. Adi jerked his hand forward, and, in one motion, a small beam of black shot right out of his arm. It went straight through a tree, leaving a gaping hole in its trunk. Around the hole he could see unnatural, nerve-like cracks forming all around the bark. 

What the hell… He thought to himself. What was that? His form of Wielding was no where near Biv’s—there was no elegance to it, only pure aggression. At least that was how he felt about it.

‘Biv! I don’t understand why I’m not being able to control this, I—I’m really trying.’

‘What? You fool or something? Three weeks not gonna be enough for you, m’ro!’
‘Oh yeah? And what the fekh do you know, eh? You ever tried this?’ He said, raising hands to let them glow dark light. Luminescent wisps formed around his palms as he waved them off. 

‘You don’t know how this feels, do you? DO YOU?!’ He stormed off out of the shrub, only eyeing Biv’s worried frown for a second. 

‘You never learn like this, m’ro. You be stuck where you are right now.’ 

Oh this piece of shit! Jesus… He thought angrily as he turned around and walked right up to Biv. 

‘Fuckin’ hell man! Watch it, you arse. I swear, you watch it!’ He screamed, eyes turning all black and a violent mist forming around his head. 

‘You really talk a friend like that, huh? Try and understand, m’ro, you need to stay calm. All I try is to teach you and get you better than you are. So that you can be the best of yourself. Please. Give Biv that chance, m’ro.’ Biv said, looking the other way and staring down the ground. He felt a sense of urgent regret and sat down alongside him. 

‘Perhaps you’re right, my friend. I do want to learn from you.’ 

He looked up and nodded, patting him on the shoulder. 

‘There a good friend is!’ 

Adi couldn’t help but laughing hearing that, and so he got back up and tried once more to learn from him. 

Once they finished practicing a few hours later, dusk settled in, and Adi felt exhausted, taking a waterskin Nathanial handed him and drinking the entire thing. 

‘Gosh…I need one more.’
Nathanial frowned, ‘That was a lot of water, m’ro.’ 

‘It’s alright, I’m still thirsty.’ He said, panting. 

He turned back around to grab a waterskin from an open leather sack, handing it over to him. feeling rather thirsty, he chugged all the water, throwing the skin back the other way. 

‘Krilin, you pissed your brains out on the way or som’n?’ Brompen said from the side, chewing a piece of wood. 

‘Keep on chewing, farm boy.’ Adi said, spitting on the ground near him. The old, rough-haired man turned his way with wide, but inquisitive eyes. 

‘What did ye just call me, ye bastard?’ 

‘I said, keep chewing farm boy.’ 

‘Alright, I’ve had it with this one.’ He suddenly got up took out a small string with two metallic spheres attached to each side. Adi, furious, turned misty again and extended his palm out, shooting a beam of dark light straight towards him. Brompen dodged it easily, moving close and throwing his little string. All of a sudden, it caught Adi’s feet and tripped him straight over as he tried to tug himself free. Before he knew it, Brompen climbed right on top of him and held out a knife, odd in colour, over his head. 

‘I’ll have ye know, I—’

A white beam of light shot out of the distance, knocking him straight off of Adi. The man groaned as he tried to find his footsteps again. Biv stood right in front of him, stance all ready, palms glowing a bright white light. 

‘Can we please have some respec’ on the mountain, ay?’ He asked, pointing his palms both ways. 

‘Get this thing off me!’ Adi cried, struggling to get the string off his leg. The two metal balls on the end of it seemed to be some kind of magnet, holding his legs straight together. 

Biv extended his arm and out passed an elegant ray of light, swiftly cutting straight through the string. 

‘I can’t believe you’d—’

Flash. 

Without notice, Adi was suddenly transported straight into his dream world. The fully white land with a distant skyline—this was where he always met Olivia. He shook himself and got up on his feet, only to realise that no mist covered the land. And from the distance, he could hear a strange breathing. A familiar breath. 

‘It’s you!’ Adi called out, hunting for the strange creature from The Dark Wielder’s Palace. ‘I know your sound.’ 

He turned around to find the ugly, blob looking thing resting, staring right off into the skyline. 

‘What…why have you called me here?’ 

The monster’s attention went uninterrupted, and so Adi turned to see what he was looking at. It was a man who was rather tall. He had slicked back black hair, long, but not too long, and was rather muscular. He stood there, smiling right at Adi. 

‘Do you know who I am, eh?’ Koralisar said.

He looked him up and down for a few seconds.

‘No.’ 

‘I’m someone you’ll meet. Someone who’ll guide you to do all of this.’ 

Piles of ash rose across the entire land instantly, and three of them had a whitish glow, an outline. And he could see a strange, wispy figures of three faces on the rising mounds. Faces of the people he knew. People he recognised. People he loved. And Koralisar, all the while smiling, raised his hand to grow a staff from some strange black mist. The staff had the head of a snake, an aggressive, repulsive snake. And he raised it right up, shooting dark beams of light straight through the three piles. Adi screamed in terror, watching these figures die a most gruesome death. A most horrible death. 

What have you done?! He thought in his head, as he screamed to run over to Koralisar. 

‘It isn’t me, my dear. It’s you! You who’ll do this! After all, this is your dream.’ 

The worst part of it all was that smile. That sick, twisted smile that he sported while brutally killing the colours of Adi’s dreams. He sunk into a land of loss and trouble. It felt exactly like losing loved ones. And he didn’t even know who they were. 

***

Chapter 55; In The Eyes of The Council

/Kaandor, Layonas

Nothing much had changed in the last twelve hours. Theren’s muscles felt terribly sore and she could feel every second of the pain, even though she was barely awake. Lying half baked in the sight of the wiola, sand cobbling into little mounds around her body, she felt the rocky waters near shore disturb her sleep—the same sleep she’d found in the blissful abyss of stillness; the same stillness which carried her through the cosmos. Though she was too fatigued and injured to get proper sight of where she was, she could deduce that she’d been captured and brought upon a gem-boat. Yet she didn’t know who brought her on it or why. All she knew is that her safety and identity had been compromised—she’d let down her entire kingdom because of some stupid fantasy. 

I should never have trust that stupid Innkeeper! She thought in her head. But she knew that he wasn’t stupid. She knew that what he was doing was truly grand—the scale of it all was shocking. He could very well have been behind her capture. 

I’ll get him back for this…I’ll have him done for! That rambling old man… Her thoughts were filled with hatred as she spewed out the salt water entering her mouth. Her blurry vision allowed her to see the stinking, dirty feet of two men—both in front of her. 

‘How…how far are we?’ She asked. 

‘Well, “my lady”, we are just reaching the shore. Care for a drink?’ 

‘I’m parched.’ 

She could hear laughter in the background as the two men erupted. 

‘Parched! Parched are you, love? Oh, Frimby, the lady’s parched! Why don’t you get ‘er some water, eh?’ 

‘Why, sure! Tom, I’ll bet she’d want it.’ 

‘Oh…I’m not sure she wants your water.’ 

‘Oh yeah? What makes you so sure she wants yours?’ 

While the two idiots argued, she shuffled about her place, mustering the strength to sit upright. 

‘Now…I don’t want to hear another word of this stupidity from either of your mouths unless you want me to jump off this boat and to my death, which would be very bad for whoever commanded you to capture me. So, for your own good, I suggest you both shut your arses and HAND ME A WATER SKIN.’ 

The two men were suddenly oppressed into quietness, Fimby’s nervous hands reaching to grab a water skin to pass to Theren. 

‘H—here.’ 

She snatched it off his hands and stared at him for a minute, until she took a long, thirst-quenching drink of water. To feel the fresh, cold drops of water trickle down her throat almost felt like a blessing, considering how long it’d been since she’d last drank. 

Once she brought herself back into attention, she scanned the background only to find herself frown. She didn’t know where she was. The city which they were coming into had large, grey walls and an enormous black tower at the end of the sight. The city’s houses seemed to be on a steep uphill climb, in a fashion that the entire city was visible to one coming into the shore. 

‘Wait…what—what’s that on the huge tower?’ She asked, squinting. Was that…a snake?

Oh…Krilin’s own grave. 

‘Why, my lady, we—we’re in the Capital.’ 

‘The Capital? We’re not even close to Loazer! This is…’

‘My lady…not in Erhin.’ 

Her eyes widen and her heart burst out of her chest. 

‘It can’t be…’ 

She’d never seen Kaandor before—the only places in Layonas she’d ever been to were the Linteres’ Kingdom, Grenoria, and Ulke, the Knight’s city at the border of Kaandor. Yet she’d never been to the heart of the kingdom itself—she’d never seen the entire kingdom or even neared the Capital. And, Krilin, was it one, big ugly thing. 

‘This city is horrifying!’ 

‘Welcome to our lives, my lady.’ The man named Tom said, smiling casually. 

‘Where are you taking me?’ 

‘Cannot say, my lady.’ 

Ugh…

Hours later, the three of them had journeyed right into the heart of the city, by horseback; they stood right in front of the tower. Theren had been chained to the man behind her, and so the three of them had moved at a slow, cautious speed through the city. She’d faced many gawkers; creepy commoners who stared her down head to toe as if they’d never seen a woman before in their lives. 

‘Snakes of Kaandor! I bring a guest of Lord Altheas Tansha. To be presented to the council.’ Fimby said, with a wide smile on his face. 

‘Right now, lady. Get off th’ horse.’ 

Weak and nimble, Theren helped herself off the stallion with both hands. The soreness of her frame still failed her as she tumbled over to the front gate. The entire tower was huge, and it was even more remarkable up close. She could barely believe her eyes when she got a proper look at it. The two men with her guided her through the two subsequent layers of large, black walls which surrounded the tower and straight into the beast. Rather than green, the palate of the colours inside the tower had a strange fusion between black and green. The entire place had a dark feeling to it, perhaps apt as it was the Rathor forefathers who built this, them being The Dark Wielders of old. The legends of Layonas, the ones who exiled the Wielders of Grenoria. 

A few minutes later, she found herself floors higher, but she wasn’t sure how many. There was a tremendous amount of this building built with firm glass, and so at a few of the vistas she felt like she was floating in the sky, standing atop the glass and viewing the entire city. From here the entire city went downhill. 

This place is truly a feat. And she knew how the mechanics and smiths here were able to build so well—they had Dark Wielding at their disposal. 

‘Right down this hall. In you go, m’lady.’ Fimby said, giving her a little nudge through the slim corridor. Looking ahead, she found the walls narrowing in on her. The same way she’d feel sick at Shen’s house, she felt sick here. 

This place is ginormous, couldn’t they have made some bigger fekhin walls? She thought to herself, trembling through the passageway. 

‘Yeah, m’lady. Give a knock on the big door at the end.’ 

Once she reached the end of the corridor, she gave a slight knock, thinking all the while about how much bigger her halls were than this building. 

Clicks and grinding sounded as the massive door swung open slowly. She walked in to a daunting sight—thirteen men seated around a large round table, and one man at the helm of it, standing, with his arms on the table, his back facing her. He had slicked back hair, black in colour. He was tall and muscular, and on his back was strapped a staff—a black staff with the head of a green snake on its end. It was faintly glowing black, with coalescent mist forming around the snake’s head. 

‘Is it?’ He asked, waving his hand. Lord Emran, the negotiater from the Council of Kaandor, nodded his head. 

‘I am glad…so glad, you could join us today. A Rolan of Erhin is in my presence. I must say, I feel…I feel honoured.’ The man with his back turned to her said. He was wearing a tightly fitted vest, full sleeves and all that, with the patterns of green vines and snakes tailored, almost flowing, through the entire vest. He was, for one thing, sharply dressed. Koralisar Rathor was meticulous.

‘Your family is a blessing to your planet. They are all lucky to have you,’ he said, turning around to reveal a set of big, brown eyes, ‘and to have had the honour of serving your father. Chronisc give him peace.’ 

Her blood boiled, ‘Dare you call upon Chronisc in the name of my father.’ 

‘Oh, it’s…it’s tit for tat, really. You all suck on Krilin’s teat, we lot on Chronisc’s. I never believed these…these stupid tales of fiction, really.’ 

For a ruler of his stature, he truly runs his mouth, doesn’t he?

She turned his gaze from him to scan the room for Altheas. And there he was. His face bloodied, arms scratched, looking incredibly weak. 

Oh my love…what have I done to you? She thought, cursing herself. A teardrop or two welled in her eyes. 

Focus, you stupid fool!

‘Why did you have me captured, you insolent, arrogant boy!’ 

‘Ha!’ He said, turning around with a wide smile, ‘Can’t believe the attitude on this one…Altheas, you loved her, eh? Attracted to that…that fire aren’t you?’ 

‘I could wage war on you. Have you fighting two kingdoms at once for this. How dare you capture me?’ 

‘And you believe you’re in the position to do that? See, my lady, I look at the logistics of things. I have a massive, massive army. Sure, we’re depleted fighting those faggots…those Linteres that your father incessantly provided for. Yet, we fight on. We struggle with our struggles, and we bask in our successes. All for we are able to sway the ones who need to be swayed. Our forces remain occupied with the Linteres, yet we preserved our vicers, oh we did. And now you know why.’

The Battle at The Bremingade…he always meant for this to be his plan!

‘Whereas, my lady Theren, your forces of twenty thousand began dissipating the moment your father took on the debts in the South that he still owes from his grave. The debts that his trophied hand must deliver. Yet, after all of these advantages, I still offered my vicers to you, whom you kindly imprisoned,’ he continued, rolling his eyes, ‘and so, I meet you at a crossroad. You, now, are doubly indebted. Ten thousand men to the South of Loazer, ten thousand men across the seas and planets to Kaandor. To the Snakes.’ 

She had no words. She had no feelings, other than bathing in the shameful waters of loss. Her power was forfeited, and her kingdom would take years to rebuild their armed forces.’ 

‘So…so we pull our support for the Linteres’, and offer you ten thousand trained, fighting Crocodiles. And…and you will win the war of Hothras and leave us in our peace?’ 

‘Precisely, my lady.’ 

‘So why in Krilin’s grave have you had me captured?! You think I’ll ever agree to your terms now?! Only war!’ 

Koralisar stared with a blank expression towards the ground, before walking over to Altheas. 

‘See, perhaps that wasn’t the best play on our part. Altheas, remind me why you had advised me to do this again?’ 

Altheas got up, ignoring Koralisar, and walked towards her, limping. ‘I’m truly sorry, my lady.’ He said, pain booming through his voice. 

‘Perhaps it was terrible of us to do this. Please, let me guide you to my quarters. I will make sure my men take care of you.’ 

‘And you decide this why?’ Koralisar asked. 

‘Because I will take care of the lady. I will make sure she is compensated for. Our wrongdoings are rightened.’ 

Koralisar frowned, finally nodding and making way for Theren and Altheas to part from the rest of the Council. 

‘You’re going to be okay, my lady.’ He said. 

After all was said and done, all wars were fought, and all arrows were shot, she could still feel her love for Altheas.

***

Chapter 56; Death’s Bludgeon

/Eaginysian Mountain Range, Southern Loazer

It was finally starting to get chilly; the journey was about halfway done, or more, perhaps, when Lothar and the company of prisoners were brought off their wagons. Squinting, he couldn’t adjust to the bright light of wiola shining right on him. 

‘Out you go! Come on now!’ A Croc screamed as a few of them gathered outside the wagon and opened the massive wooden door. All the prisoners’ hands were chained, and their ankles were chained to one another; they had to leave the wagon in a careful and orderly fashion. The Crocs guided them through each step. 

‘Right out here, ye little shits!’ One of them screamed, holding a bludgeon in his hand and giving a whack to each of the unclothed prisoners. Few of them were privileged with a rag around their chest—the rest suffered the cold snowstorms of Southern Loazer; the company had stopped at Eaginys, right at the footsteps of the Eaginys Mountains. The Crocs had stopped the wagons about a sixth ago, and had set up pots of stew and some strange glob to feed all the prisoners. But Lothar knew the ins and outs of his own soldiers—at the corner of the brigade, a large, green tent had been set up where chefs had catered to every need of the elite officers. 

Oh, those fekhas. They’d be licking my feet if I asked them to a week ago. 

A part in him felt a deep, regretful pain for what he did. Everything he’d lost…all his privileges, all his rights, all his money. His life was loathsome! He had nothing, nothing to look forward to. 

Well, for one thing, there’s the girl, he thought, turning towards the rogue. She’d cut a hole in the rag she wore, right around her chest area, flaunting it to the prisoners. By now he’d realised that she loved this kind of teasing. There were countless times where in the wagon she’d…do what she’d like to him. She covered up a part of his broken self, and the rest of him felt more regret than sadness. Sad for his brother, yes, but deeply regretful for all the pain he had to suffer for the rest of his life. And yet, like he’d felt before, a different part of him tugged the other way. He looked at Tirette, her fire burning high. He turned to see himself surrounded by all sorts of prisoners—even hooligans hurling glob into their mouths like savages. That part of him scanned everything around and felt a sense of bitterness. A sense of anger.

Don’t soften, Lothar! Don’t be a fekhin idiot. He deserved that knife, whether you were drunk or not. Forgotten his letter already, have you? You’d be here either way, banished and away from everything. Cast away, like a rotten fruit from the basket. Tossed right over. Don’t feel sorry for yourself. You did the right thing… He thought, gritting his teeth.

Out of nowhere, he felt a hard pinch on his buttock, like the hands of a crab; he jumped in shock.

‘Ah!’ He screamed, turning to find Tirette launching herself at him. 

How can this woman be so happy? She’s being cast aside as a prisoner and yet she jumps around like it’s the best day of her life. 

He opened his eyes in disbelief and pushed her off as soon as he could, seeing a Crocodilian vest becoming larger in the distance. 

‘What’re you doing?’ He whispered, frowning. 

‘Oye, what the fekh is going on here?’ Said the approaching Croc. 

Oh, of course he has a bludgeon…

‘Lady, step aside.’ He said, eyes targeting Lothar. 

‘No, I—’ She began, interrupted by an unyielding push; she fell straight to the ground. 

‘Ugh.’ He sighed, turning right around. 

‘You rogue, little rascal!’ The Croc screamed, whacking him with his bludgeon right on his back. 

‘GAHHH!’ Lothar screamed, tears welling in his eyes as he could feel the redness form around his back. 

‘Don’t you dare be foolin’ around, m’ro!’ 

Whacking came his bludgeon. The round, metallic stick hit his spine with full force, Lothar sure he heard something crack. He squalled in sheer pain, falling straight to the floor, clutching his back for dear life as he crawled around the floor like a maggot. Prisoners turned to see the sight—eyes shameful at the sight of Rolan on the floor like a dirtborn. 

‘You want another, eh?!’ Screamed the Croc, bludgeon raised high in the air. 

‘No! No, no, please!’ He cried, wallowing in his tears, ‘Please, I beg you sir.’ 

‘Good, you fekhin dog. Keep begging. This is your life now.’ 

The Croc kicked him on his gut, sending him hurling a feet away or so. 

‘I’ll keep an eye on ye. Keep your mouth to yourself if you don’t want no more o’ this, eh?’ 

Maybe this was what he deserved. All of his mistakes, all of his shirking and negligent habits lead him here. All of his arrogance and worthlessness led him here. This was all his mistake. Or perhaps it wasn’t. Either way he lay waste in his pity, crying, yearning for his own death.

***

Chapter 57; A Teardrop For Eternity

/Kaandor

Three whole days. She’d spent three days locked up in a stinking prison in Altheas’ home. She couldn’t bare to handle it. Her entire frame felt exhausted, and her mind felt embarrassed. How could she have possibly decided to walk alone after having been appointed the Lady of Loazer? It was sheer stupidity. She needed to be far sharper than that from now on. 

Isolde’s going to be with me wherever I go. No questions asked. She thought, as she bathed in her regret. 

Light. Light was something she hadn’t seen in a while. The darkness of the prison had become her home; in fact, she’d felt herself going a tad bit mad in this cell. 

A few seconds later, she heard the clink of a lock, and the wide, barred door swung open to give way to light.
Her eyes burnt as she got off her bed. She scurried over to the shade, covering her eyes with her hand as she squinted more than she ever had. 

Krilin their sun is insane! No wonder they call it The Conqueror. She thought, as a man held her hand and guided her out of the cell. 

‘It’s alright, my lady.’ A familiar voice said. Altheas. 

‘You!’ She bellowed, snatching her hand away and taking not a second to move away from him. Her hand still covered her face. 

‘How dare you come a foot near me you betraying little swine!’
She insulted him but she knew those words were false. She knew they meant nothing in the surface of her love. 

‘Swine, is it?’ He said, voice croaky as always since the fire, ‘I do remember being the one who rescued you from the little rut you found yourself in with the Council.’

‘Fekh off. You’re the one who brought me into it in the first place!’ 

‘Yes, well, I had to!’ 

‘And why is that? I’ve agreed to all your terms! What more could you want from me? I’ve already failed my father and it hasn’t been weeks since he…’

Pull it together, woman! You’re stronger than that you blithering buffoon. She thought, shaking her head as she tried to clear the tears out of her eyes. She couldn’t see anything, so the tears didn’t help all that much.

‘Look, I…’ He began, staring off into the distance, ‘I have to tell you something, my lady.’

He guided her on for a few minutes, carefully taking her through a road until her vision restored. Everything was rather…orange. She’d heard about the colour of the nature on this planet, especially in Kaandor. All their shrubs and plants were more orange and red than green. It was strange to see but felt like forever-autumn. He led her through a road outside his enormous mansion, made purely of stone and glass, there were large eagles engraved into the front of his home—the ren-call of the Tanshas. He was the last of them, though. The last fledging Eagle of the East. It was a sad thought, seeing such a grand family with such a great history gone. Demolished, obliterated. Extinct. Save for Altheas. 

‘Come, sit, my lady.’ He said, guiding her to a bench underneath a beautiful tree, its red leaves rustling in the wind. She turned to look at Altheas. The broken, bruised man still suffered terrible pain from the arrow that she thought had killed him. 

He stood right in front of her; his eyes were locked, intense, staring right into hers. He, too, had a look of regret in them. Regret for something he’d missed in his life ever since he chose to flee to Layonas. Regret that he had missed the love of his life. At least she knew that she missed hers. 

He kneeled in front of her and extended his arms, holding her hands in a soft grip. She didn’t object. This was the man she was deep in love with only a decade ago. This was a man that, no matter after whatever could possibly happen, she’d trust with all her life. 

‘My lady, you shot me with your arrow. Right in my back. I suffered weeks of pain before I could even think about walking upright. Yet I shot you with an equally painful one, helping my allies take away your soldiers, wage war on you for little cause, playing games with you for no obvious reasons. And yet you, my strong, beautiful Theren, you understood. You showed passion and mercy over ruthlessness. You submitted and agreed. And yet I bring you back here,’ he said, voice cracking as she could find emotion in it, ‘I…the truth is, this was an excuse, and nothing more.’ 

‘An…an excuse for what?’ She asked, nervous to the point where she could feel her heart pulse against her chest, the blood flow through her entire body, her visage redden. 

An excuse to live the rest of my life with you…she imagined. 

‘An excuse to see for the last time.’ 

‘Wh…what?’ 

Is he going to kill me? She thought, panicking. She nearly got up and fled, but stopped herself as she realised she was surrounded by Snakes. 

‘My lady, our paths are different. I must remain committed here. I must do as my King here orders. As the Council decides. All the time, every single day I try to talk them out of their ridiculous plans, yet there is nothing that one man, one outsider like me can do. I am sorry, my lady, but for the months to come, there is nothing I can do. For the troubles that you have to bear, there is not much that can be done by my part.’ 

Shameful he is…

‘Then why have you brought me here and tossed me in your jail for three days?!’ 

‘Because, my lady, through all of this…I still had one thing I couldn’t get off my chest when we last met.’ 

‘What is it?’ 

She couldn’t believe her calm. She should have been furious by now, screaming and reaching for her blade to plunge into his—

‘I still love you.’ 

—heart. 

‘Don’t…don’t play your cruel games with me.’ 

‘No! No, Theren, please.’ He pleaded as she turned her head to hide her shame and emotion and pure sadness. 

‘My lady, no games. No strings. This is beyond kingdoms. I…my lady, I do not lie.’ 

‘Then why can’t you leave them? Come back…come back, Altheas. I’ve always known it was you. If your love is so pure, then why can’t you come back? The last Eagle is the only man who’ll ever father my children, I swear it!’

He looked down, a teardrop for eternity falling into the grass from his eye. She knew what that teardrop was. It was the changer of her fate. A teardrop that ripped away what was dearest from her. 

‘I brought you here to spend a last moment with you, my lady,’ his voice still trembled, ‘before we both embarked on our separate journeys. Journeys of peril and war. Journeys of rivalry.’ 

‘But through our journeys,’ she began, as their voice synchronised to The Longest Road, ‘ours will be one of love.’ 

A favourite passage of hers from their childhood. She remembered crystal clear the nights that the two of them would sneak out and find an alcove somewhere deep in Kenneth, hidden away in their privacy and solitude. Staring into each others’ eyes as the night sky befell, hiding their little secret from the rest of the world. 

He leaned in, tears still welling in his eyes. She knew that they wouldn’t get their chance again. She was aware that it was impossible, all things considered. Her love and his were just not meant to strike together on the same day. They were always going to be torn away from each other. 

She felt her lips interlock with his; the touch of softness that she’d forgotten over the years. The feeling of love that she hadn’t felt in years. The man she’d wanted to spend the rest of her life with that she hadn’t felt in years. 

Their lips parted as their eyes interlocked. 

‘I’ll have to put you back in jail, my lady. A few days until I can find you safe passage back to Erhin.’ 

‘Wh—what?’ The idea of being torn apart from him terrified her already, and she hadn’t even been around him for more than a few minutes.

‘The Council won’t have it in a lifetime. I’ll have to sneak you off.’ He said, hands still on her cheek; his hands had the softest touch even though they were scarred and burnt through years of turmoil and war.

‘Won’t they suspect you?’ 

‘Not the way I’m going to pull it off.’ He said, smiling. He always had the softest, most subtle smile. Never too much—never too eager, yet not too careless either.  

‘Alright.’ She said, hand on his lap.

He nodded, before calling a Snake to guide her back. He then slowly walked away, footsteps on the grass softening. 

‘Altheas! She called out. He turned, eyes gazing into hers from all that distance. 

‘I still love you too.’ 

***

Chapter 58; Passions’ Guidance

/Kaandor, Layonas

The Conqueror’s light was something Adi would rather not be bathed by. 

The company of five had been traversing through Ulke and into the gates of Kaandor for about a week and a half, when Nathanial had informed him a while ago that they’d caught the bi-weekly heat waves that shed its scorching hatred across the kingdom without leaving a footprint the next day. Yet today was a day that he felt stomped on like a little dead leaf suffering a horrible fate, lying on the ground subject to thousands of boots and stomps. The wave of heat made the sweat trickles feel like water going down his throat; it was voluminous. His back was covered in sweat and his pit stains were certainly nothing he was proud of. 

The company had travelled through the Ulken Greens—the name of the spring green mountain overpass of the city of Knights—for about a week until they walked through the gate of Kaandor. Things in this kingdom were a lot greyer and duller, save for the beautiful orange and red plants and trees that sprouted across the kingdom. While it was tremendously warm here, Adi was certainly relieved to have been able to escape the snow of King for the time being, save for the trouble of having to control his urges to Wield, because in the clear daylight, the black coalescent mist that usually formed around him would be fully visible to the naked eye. 

‘I’m tellin’ ya! Take me on one day, friend. I’d beat ye arse with a little nipped finger n’ all. Cut it up real nice, dip it in some boiling water, hand’s all scarred, still I’d beat ye.’ Brompen pleaded as all of them walked briskly along a small village outside the Capital. The houses were all rather tiny, but the outdoors here well compensated for the limited spacing—nearly all the villagers had their own farms, stalls were setup outside houses selling goods and food stuff, and there was a general hustle and bustle throughout each of the towns and villages that wasn’t something one would normally find in King, back in Gr’Erhin.

 While the buildings here didn’t have much colour, the nature compensated for it. The infrastructure of the entire kingdom was rather admirable as well. Everything was so…organised. The towns were all little squares, villages scattered across in a methodical manner—the smiths and builders had planned this entire kingdom down to the micro detail, it seemed.                 

‘Brompen, do you really think you can humiliate me like that?’ Adi said, raising a confident eyebrow and sporting a clever smirk. Before setting out on their journey, he’d gotten his dirty blonde hair cut short to the point where it was slicked back on his forehead, just about touching his shoulder. 

‘Probably can, mate. It’s what I’m best at. Trashing and thrashin’ your kind, m’ro. Killin’ all of you…light beam shooters is something I love doing!’ The middle aged man said, looking ahead and frowning. He looked like someone who’d been through a lot—someone who’d seen it all, yet someone who was willing to fight on every day until the end of his days.

Or just someone willing to do a lot for a lot of money. He was getting paid a rather handsome sum, as he’d heard from Biv.

‘ “M’ro”,’ Adi said, mocking him, ‘I’d slice and dice you in half before you’d even get the chance to throw one of your rope…thingys at me.’ 

When did I lose all my humility? Adi thought, soon after he said that. 

Brompen turned towards him, all confused. 

‘Thingy? The fekh’s that?’ 

‘Oh…I…it’s just one of the words we use back on earth when we can’t find another.’ 

The man held onto his belt, adjusting it to loosen the strap around his waist. He groaned. 

‘You people are fekhin weird. Should never ‘ave found out about ye planet. The two’s of us were doin’ just fine before you all came along.’

‘What? Rubbish. We haven’t “come along”. I’m one of the only ones here from earth. And trust me, back there, they have no freaking idea that any of you “two’s” exist. If they did I’d have heard.’

‘Yeah, no, I know, m’ro. Just that we two’s are well together. Your planet’s an outsider. We don’t want no outsiders. Especially one with no kings, m’ro. Krilin, your planet must be a mess.’ 

Adi shook his head in disbelief, unable to comprehend his stupidity. 

I got to go…furnish my brain with something other than this man’s… tar. He thought, turning to stare at the insane man. He quickened his pace to catch up to Biv.

‘Biv, Jesus, where did you find that man?’ Adi asked, pointing to Brompen while trying to be subtle.

‘Ay! He a good friend. And who this?’ 

‘Who’s who?’ 

‘This…Jeezoos?’ 

‘Oh…oh, it’s…it’s like our planet’s Krilin.’

‘Ah…so he was a warrior, eh? A tale of legend.’

‘No…no, more like a god.’ 

‘God? What this?’

…The hell? 

‘A god? Really? You all don’t know that here? What’re ye stupid?’ 

‘No…no!’ Biv said, turning to scuff some dirt off his pants. Adi could sense some sort of discomfort in his eyes. 

‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ 

‘Oh, nothing! No matter, m’ro. Is all good.’

Adi frowned as he watched Biv, irritated that he was unwilling to tell him what he had on his mind. 

‘Just tell me, I’m a friend. You can tell me.’

‘No…no, please, Adi, nothing. Just…I far from home, yeah?’

He nodded his head, not wanting to perturb him further, but he felt rather annoyed that Biv wasn’t opening up to him. They were practically best friends already. 

Ugh…forget it, I’ll just walk alone. Adi thought, as he moseyed on ahead. The company walked through the flatland leisurely, Nathanial behind him, talking with Grace, Biv and Brompen talking about Wielding stances, while he continued to stride far ahead of the rest of them. A few minutes later, he felt a tug on his shirt. He turned to find Grace. She still had those same beautiful, charming eyes. He just wanted to undress her and—

‘Miss me already, honey?’ She said, quirky and excited. She took his arm and wrapped hers around it, holding on tight. 

‘You sure, uh…The Hunter’s okay with this?’ 

‘Oh, please, my love. The Hunter’s already gotten a fair share of his meat.’ She said, grabbing his torso, ‘What about The Wielder? Can’t forget him can I, love?’ 

‘Oh sure…Biv’s right behind me.’ 

She laughed out loud, giggling like a little girl, bringing a smile onto his face. 

‘Funny, aren’t you?’ 

‘Some say it’s a talent.’

‘I’m sure it is!’ 

‘So, you’re from the South, right?’ Adi asked, making pleasant conversation. 

‘Yeah, a pretty big Loazian kingdom. It’s called Wriceomel.’

‘Ah…interesting. So are all the girls back on Wriceomel this pretty?’

She smiled and shook her head, ‘No, no, it’s just a couple of us. Our country’s not in the best of states too.’ 

‘War?’ 

‘Lots of it.’ She said, face turning grim. ‘We’ve suffered a lot. Terrible, internal conflicts. Power hungry men. You know, the lot.’ 

‘Hmm…I’m sorry, that sounds terrible.’ 

‘Well, it truly is a dog eat dog world. I’ve had to climb my way through a whole lot more than I let off.’ She said, giving him a casual smile.
What an unbelievable woman…He thought.

Hours later, the company found an inn along the way where they decided to lodge for the night. He’d found out that they were several weeks away from the Capital, though they were lodgings at frequent stops in passing towns. The places all seemed rather innocent outside the border. For all the trash talk he’d heard of Kaandor from Biv and Nathanial, he was surprised to find that it wasn’t all bad. He actually found it to his liking—the towns were sweet and isolated, and he found peace here, journeying across these flatlands, whereas Gr’Erhin, King, in particular, was a snow laden storming city. Its cool side just didn’t seem to rest. 

‘Alright, in you go, m’ro.’ Nathanial said, helping open the door. It was surprising to see how casual he was in this planet, considering his royalty and how much protection he usually needed. Yet here, under disguise, he was a completely different man. Humble and modest, he behaved like a commoner. 

Perhaps he’s had a fair share of travelling this world in disguise. 

The inside of the inn was rather lovely. It was warm, lit nicely with  few fires by the walls, the decoration was mostly wood, and the people inside seemed to be sharing hearty laughs. 

‘Ah! This is more like it!’ Brompen said, heading straight to the bar. Nathanial headed over to the innkeeper at the bar, giving him a kind smile.

‘Just three lodgings’ll do.’ 

‘Sure, kind sir. It’s three Cromows per lodging.’ 

‘Huh?!’ Brompen jolted in surprise, ale in hand already. ‘Three Cromows a lodging? M’ro I could find a whore here who wouldn’t take three Cromows for seven nights! Come on! It’s five of us. Don’t be daft.’

‘Uh…sir, I really can’t—’

‘Shut up. We’ll take it in two.’ 

‘Oh…alright.’ He said, giving way. 

Adi turned to see him. 

‘Ye see, Wielder boy? We don’t need no magic tricks to get our way ‘round here!’ He said, finishing with an exulting laugh.

‘I’m sorry sir, for being insistent.’ The innkeeper said, wiping an empty glass. He looked down, sorrowful for some reason, ‘It’s just that…times aren’t the best. You know, with the war and everything. Council ain’t being kind, I’ll tell ya.’ 

Nathanial turned, curious and grabbed Adi by the shoulder. 

‘How much do you know about the war?’ 

What war? 

‘Well…not all that much.’ 

He looked at him for a few minutes, until he finally pulled the bar stool back. 

‘Take a seat. Lodger, we’ll pay you three Cromows if you tell this man the tale of Hothras.’ 

‘What? Ha! No fookha doesn’t know about the war.’ 

‘He’s…an outsider.’
The innkeeper stared him head to toe, until finally nodding. 

‘Well, I’m sure you know the Linteres’ leastways?’ 

‘Yeah. The Kingdom down South? The dairy farmers?’ 

‘Fookhin pigs, that’s what.’ He took a short breath, ‘A while ago, well, some thousands of years ago or someth’n, there was a dairy farmer. Sorman fookhin Lintere. Ruined our lives forever.’ He said, staring off into the distance with a grudging eye. 

‘Your story?’ 

‘Oh! Yes, ha! The misery that he puts me in still gives me a fit. So, thousands of years ago, when we was at our prime, Layon Rathor, the first of his family ruled over our kind, this bloody farmer broke off from Southern Kaandor and put together a revolt. World still don’t know he he did it. He stormed on our lands and broke our homes. He took our children and tore away their mothers from them, raping them in lines. He carried fires with him everywhere he went, all cause,’ he started tearing up, ‘the bloody farmer didn’t get what he wanted. 

‘Finally, the two kingdoms came to some sort of peace to prevent the war, yet the Linteres’ took our Southern land, across the massive river Hothras, and claimed it for their own. Was the only way to stop the war.’ 

‘And this was all thousands of years ago.’ 

‘Yes. Little scuffles done happened across the borders every once in a while, carrying on the ‘atred between the two kingdoms, until that fookhin faggot Keran Rolan of Loazer decided to give ‘em all his money. They started butchering us, creating a massive fight. Six years ago, that’s when it started. The War of Hothras, my friend. And since then, the waters between us and them have raged with fiery ships, broken planks, our river sunk deep with dead bodies. They call it The Waters of the Dead now. She even makes noise every now and then.’ 

Wow…that’s horrifying.

‘Koralisar never tried to come to peace with it?’ 

‘No. Was’ that boy gonna do? Up until now, he really didn’t do much other than continue the war. Now, although, the West of Erhin has become pretty much ‘is for the takin’.’ 

Adi turned to look at Nathanial, but he was completely expressionless, as if he never heard the man’s comment.

‘Well, uh…it’s getting late. Perhaps we should get into our Lodgings.’ 

‘There’s five of us. You got three rooms.’ Adi said.

‘Room? Not a room, m’ro! A comfortable lodging.’ Biv said, happy trailing as always.

‘Right. But there’s five of us.’

 ‘Well of course! Nathanial got his own, I’ll stay with Brompen, and you—oh…’

Adi smiled and nodded. Yep, you got that right mate.

‘Well, I for one do think the lady will need her own lodging.’ Nathanial said, giving way to be the bigger man!

‘My lord! I can’t let that happen. Needn’t you worry for my comfort, as long as you have yours. I’ll just stay with Adi!’ 

Nathanial looked her way, a hint of cheekiness appearing on his visage, but he withheld. Biv…not so much; he giggled under his breath. 

‘Oh, grow up you idiot. She’s just making sure The Hunter’s comfortable.’ Adi said, pushing Biv aside. 

Once everyone was settled, Adi lay resting on his bed.

Man, what I wouldn’t give for a television right now. He thought, bored out of his mind as he read a scripture Rys had given him. Some history of Wielders. 

Who cares? I am one, I don’t need this crap.

Grace was in the chamber privy, what they usually called a bathroom, as she freshened up. A few minutes later, she walked out, opening the wooden door. Almost all her clothes were off, save for an open leather vest that exposed all of her. Adi was immediately aroused. 

‘Are you like this with all the men you meet?’ He asked, slightly offended that she came off so strong so easy.

‘Playful? Sure,’ she said, slowly walking towards him, ‘but intimate? Adi Walkman, you’d be surprised to find out just how reserved I am.’ 

She climbed on top of him, moving sensually over him. 

‘Alright then.’ He said, continuing his part in the act. 

And before he knew it, he was fast asleep. The both of them had finished up in about an hour or so and had went straight to bed. He could still feel her arms wrapped around him, yet he slowly drifted off into his dream world. 

Yet it wasn’t the white mist overlay that he was used to. Instead he was in the land of a thousand tunnels. Tunnels of all colours. It looked just like The Dark Wielder’s Palace, but this one didn’t make any noise. It was silent—like a garden without insects, like a hill without the rustle of trees. Dead silence, as if it was something that spread across the land he was on and consumed it. Dead silence, only to crumble and give way to steady footsteps. 

In came a man, dressed in a sharp black, leather wardrobe. He had focused eyes, determined eyes. His hair was mostly black but had many streaks of shining silver running down to his shoulder, but the most important detail of all was that…he was glowing black. Dark mist coalesced around him. Formed around his entire frame. 

‘Adi Walkman. I know you.’ 

‘And I know you.’ 

‘My kin. I am not to be mistaken with them, mind you. All of them were either greedy and power hungry or totally consumed by being a spoilt brat.’ 

Adi began gasping as he felt shocked when he truly realised who this was. He wasn’t just a Rathor. He was Layon Rathor.

‘La—Layon?’ 

‘Yes, my friend. The founder of the ground that your footsteps have tread on over the last few weeks.’ 

‘I—I didn’t choose to be The Dark Wielder, I know I am not your family, so I—’

‘Why are you stuttering again? I have seen you overcome it. It was very brave.’ 

‘I—I don’t know, it’s just that I saw you and—’

‘Has the power not given you the confidence I anticipated?’

‘No…it—it definitely has, sir.’ 

‘Hmm..’ He said, examining Adi. He walked on over towards him. 

‘But has it consumed you?’ 

‘I—I don’t think so.’ 

‘Oh, but it should. You see, my friend—my kin…Enosar, he chose you. The first ever chosen Dark Wielder. The first Dark Wielder who isn’t a Rathor. Yet you are one nonetheless. My son—kin—wouldn’t have chosen you had he not believed you to be the best man to carry on his wishes.’

‘So what should I do? Guide me, please.’ 

‘Guide you? You seek guidance from me?’

‘I’ve heard of the legends.’ 

‘You hate Koralisar. I see it in your eyes.’

‘I do. But that—that doesn’t mean I don’t respect your accomplishments.’ 

‘And so you seek my guidance?’ 

‘Yes…why have you led me here? What is my purpose here?’ 

‘I cannot tell you your purpose.’ 

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know it myself.’ He said, lips pursed, ‘You see, The Wielders of Grenoria were created from a form of brain. A peacekeeping mechanism, something to contain. Our colour, our black light, has always been one of emotion. Pure and raw in its own form. You must let your passions guide you, Adi Walkman. Your heart is The Dark Wielder’s heart now. Follow it at all costs,’ he said, slamming his hand against Adi’s chest, ‘for it is only the will of your passion that will finish the course of The Dark Wielders’ light.’

‘What do you mean…I—I’m the last one?’ 

‘Enosar wouldn’t have chosen an heir to our power, knowing that his son didn’t get it, if that heir wasn’t the last one.’

‘A—and I have to finish this journey?’

Layon took a long, cold pause.

‘Yes.’

***

Chapter 59; If Life Was A Dream

/Tansha Manor, Kaandor

She’d been in the cell three days since she’d shared her kiss with Altheas. Since then, he’d made sure to make it more comfortable for her, having the cell cleaned up, getting candles placed around the floor and cushioning the bed. She’d gotten proper meals and felt well. And yet she couldn’t get a second of sleep. This plaguing, conflicting thought tortured her mind—on one hand she felt disappointed to an extreme with herself; being reckless and letting herself get kidnapped and taken away as the Lady of Loazer was a horrible thing on her part—she should have been far more careful, and yet it was absurd and rebellious on the part of Kaandor to have her captured and brought to their kingdom without any form of consent. She was even considering waging war. Yet on the other hand, it was Altheas. He had suggested to bring her here, just so that he could bid her goodbye before the conflicts, before the transferring of soldiers, the years of anger and unrest that would boil up in the people of her kingdom—she knew that forfeiting to Kaandor so easily would mean nothing but hatred towards them, and so she knew that she would not get the chance to meet Altheas again. And yet there he was, right in front of her, grabbing her face and kissing her. Perhaps he was her one true love. The man she was meant to be with. Perhaps she could forfeit everything just so that she could be in his arms. 

No! You weak fool! Don’t be daft. She thought, shaking her head to throw away the terrible thoughts. 

What did father die for if you’re going to throw all of this away? Why did all of your brothers choose you to rule in their rightful stead…if you’re going to throw it away? 

She knew she couldn’t do that, and so she was once again left in a land of conflict that tugged her two different ways. It felt like her arms were going to fall off. For years she’d run a spy group and she’d run it right under her father’s nose—under the entire kingdom’s nose—and did a damn good job of it. She’d accomplished far too much to be ignored, and yet she was never one for the attention. How could she be such a competent leader of the group, yet have managed to throw away the entire kingdom’s power within a month? She was beaten down—her confidence near broken. She thought, she truly did, that she’d be the best ruler for the kingdom. Someone neutral, someone just. All she turned out to be was a sucker for love who gave into her passions over logic. Someone who was weak and could be crushed by the bludgeon of emotions. Someone who would cave in when it was time to take step on the bridge and get to the other side. 

And yet of all his children, Lord Keran Rolan gifted “The Art of The Siege” to her and her alone. Did he really believe in her? Maybe he did. Maybe he wanted her to be in his place once he passed, knowing that Nathanial would always be away. 

You can rule and you know it, Theren Rolan. Don’t you fekhing tell yourself otherwise! She thought, jumping up.
And her timing couldn’t have been any better. 

The door swung open, and in came a blue haired Weemlander with the flaming torch of saviour in his hand and the sweet smile of her love on his visage. 

‘My lady.’

She smiled back and took his hand, letting him carefully lead him out through the dusk-laden castle. There was silence through the halls—the guards were cornering the other side, presumably on Altheas’ request, whom she could through the open end of the hall on the other side of the garden. 

‘Don’t get distracted!’ He whispered, ‘This way, my lady.’ 

He took her down a small staircase at a far-end of the castle she hadn’t seen. 

‘How are we going to reach a gem-boat so fast?’ 

‘Stallions await us.’ 

The moment they exited the castle, there was a large wall between the castle and the outside. 

‘Hold on, my lady. It’s just the two of us in this one.’ 

He ran towards the wall, letting go of the torch and extending his hand. He placed his hands underneath, giving her space to put her foot. She climbed on top of him as he boosted her up the wall. She tried to be as quiet as she could. Turning around, she offered Altheas a hand. 

‘No need, my lady.’ He said. He grabbed a branch from a curving tree at the end of the wall and placed his foot on the lower half. He jumped up and grabbed a higher branch, before speeding another step and grabbing the ledge of the wall. He pushed himself up and turned to give her a smile. 

‘The injury? How did you—’

‘Don’t worry about me, my love. I have my ways.’ 

Oh, I could just grab him and—

‘Alright, down you go!’ He said, pushing her before she could even find her footing. She fell to the ground on her side, but stopped herself from making any noise. 

Soon, the two of them ran towards a small stable outside, grabbing two horses he’d kept aside from them, and made their way to the Capital shore. It took them no more than a forty-eighth to find their way there. He then unloaded himself off his stallion, helping her off, and climbed onto the dock where he awaited her. He turned to the gem-boat; a glowing green gem was at the end of it. She was headed home. And yet she could see him looking down. Down at the ocean with sad, regretful eyes. She took slow steps up to the dock and put her hand on his shoulder. Careful not to ruin the moment, she turned him around and put her hand on his cheek. 

‘I love you, Altheas. I love you with all my life and heart.’ 

Was it a cold touch of his fingers she felt? Fingers whose touch she’d never feel again? Could she bare to know what she was leaving behind—could she handle it?

‘And I love you, my lady. I always have, and I always will.’ He said, voice croaky as always, eyes gleaming as always. She leaned into him, sharing one last, passionate kiss. Holding on to what felt like an eternity. This was the feeling she’d wanted. His touch, his presence, his company. She knew that every second without him would be torture for months to come, that he’d plague her mind with thoughts of sorrow and regret.
And yet she knew that she had to move on with her life, that she had more important things to handle and stakes—consequences—that she couldn’t afford to ignore. 

‘This is us, my lord.’ 

He nodded, holding onto her hand like he’d never let go. 

And yet he did. And she let him. She had to go, there was no choice, no matter how much she didn’t want to.
She was pulled apart from the one thing that she truly cared about at the end of all things. At the end of the road, at the sunsetting corner of the village, he was the man waiting for her, with eyes twinkling in the light of wiola, and a bag slung across his shoulder, carrying everything they’d need on their journey far away from everywhere. If only life was a dream. 

Oh, if it was a dream, I’d know what mine would be. 

***

Chapter 60; On The Horizon

/The Shores of Kais

His pulse was fast. His nerves trembled. His heart skipped beats. His hands shook.
His lady had disappeared. 

Isolde had gotten all the shores of Northern Loazer manned and had already conducted a kingdom wide search for the Lady, with over ten thousand Crocs searching the borders and the insides of cities. Unith had been searched clear to the point where every single citizen’s home had been invaded in an effort to find her. 

And so the only hope were the shores. The only hope was that she had gone off somewhere in a gem-boat and was close to making her return. Even so—even if that was the case, Isolde would never forgive himself. Letting his lady leave Shen’s home like that was an unforgivable crime on his part as one of her protectors. 

‘Any boats?’ Hvit called out from some distance away on the shoreline. Wiola set down and dusk began to befall the sky. The trees rustled somber—crying the song of emptiness. And the streets too. 

‘No, not this side.’ He said, looking down at the shore waters. From the corner of his eye he could see Hvit walking over. Crocs were posted at every ten metres from him, on the lookout for the lady. 

‘We lost her.’ Hvit called out. 

‘What?’ He said, turning to see him and gritting his teeth—he grabbed Hvit by the collar and pulled him towards himself, face up close. 

‘Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you fekhing dare say we lost her.’ He said, saliva spewing out of his mouth in a fit of rage. He held Hvit off the ground, grabbing him as hard as he could. 

‘I—I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’ He cried. 

‘She isn’t gone yet. We’ll find her, I say, WE WILL!’ Isolde bellowed, losing his cool. He could feel the moment capture him, capture the soldier calm that he could maintain, the terrible discipline he kept in order with.

But then again, she was his everything. Everything that had revived him from the ditch he was in. She was the only reason that he rose from the dead and back into life again.

‘Look, Isolde. I know she’s terribly important to you,’ Hvit started, ‘and she’s the most important to me too, and to the rest of this kingdom as well. But we can’t carry this on forever.’ He walked over to him and put an arm on his shoulder, ‘It’s been six days. All our forces have searched every single kingdom in Northern Loazer. I know it’s hard to face it, but…she may be gone. And if we can’t accept that, then we won’t be able to progress as a kingdom.’ 

‘We’ve searched Northern Loazer, we still have Southern Loazer left. And Gr’Erhin.’ 

‘Isolde—’

‘NO! I am not giving up until I search every fekhing corner of this world and if we don’t find her here, I will take Krilin’s own ship and sail to Layonas and look for her. Krilin’s grave, I’ll take Dek and go to earth if it means that I find her.’ 

He turned to look at Hvit, who nodded, looking into the sea. He knelt and picked up a sea shell, fidgeting with it as he seemed lost in his thoughts. 

‘I won’t lie to you, Isolde, I—’

A small boat appeared at the end of the horizon. It had a glowing green tip. 

Isolde started panting, ‘Hvit! That’s—that’s—’

‘Get on the dock! GET ON THE DOCK!’ He screamed, calling out to all the Crocs near him. Isolde ran as fast as he could to the dock, climbing on top and getting into a boat. He rowed with full speed, the Crocs all following behind. He could feel the rocky waters push the boat in an uproar, but nothing came to his mind save for getting to that boat. 

‘Now, Isolde, don’t get too happy, for all you know, it could be a—’

He slapped Hvit in the face and continued rowing, until finally they reached the end of the boat. 

There was no one inside.

‘What? I don’t believe…’

And then he knelt in to take a closer look.

In the boat lay a cold, still silhouette of the woman he loved—her body calm against the shine of the wiola. She didn’t move an inch.

‘No! No! NOOOO!’ Isolde cried out as he jumped onto her boat, holding her hand. 

He felt a pulse. 

Frantic, he jumped to turn around, ‘She’s alive! The lady’s alive!’ 

All the Crocs on boats began shouting commands, and a whole crew of boats came to the rescue. 

For the last six days, Isolde’s world had been one of pain and torture, not knowing where his lady had been. And that world had finally come to an end. He was relieved to have her back in his arms.

***

Chapter 61; And That’s My Mission

/Kaandor, outside the capital

The five of them had gotten a nice bonfire going. Adi was sitting besides Brompen, a few metres away from the rest of them. It had been about a week since they’d passed their first lodging, and then they’d journeyed up so more towns, all the while Biv was training and fine tuning Adi’s Wielding. It turned out that his power was far more than the normal Wielder’s—there was something royal about it, and even Biv didn’t know what it was.

‘Ye ever done somethin’ horrifying?’ Brompen asked, licking the chicken glaze off his fingers. They’d gotten a nice stew and pot of meat going in the fire.

‘Killed my sister.’ 

He turned, jolting to look at him. 

‘The fekh you do that for, m’ro?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ 

‘Wha’chu mean ya’ don’t know?’ 

‘Something came over me…it’s like…I lost control of myself.’ 

He could feel thins wisps of black mist forming over his body, but they weren’t visible in the dark of the night, even in the bonfire. 

‘I couldn’t control myself. It just…happened.’ 

Adi remembered that every time he’d try and recall this memory, he’d become sad in an instant—he’d feel the tears welling in his eyes and he couldn’t handle mentioning it for long. 

And yet he barely felt that sadness now…he didn’t have much difficulty talking about it either.

‘Ah…’ Brompen replied, turning back to his fire.

‘What about you?’ Adi asked. 

‘What abou’ me, m’ro?’ 

‘What’s the most horrifying thing you’ve done.’

‘Well…killed a Wielder perhaps.’

‘That’s not…an impressive rapport for a “Wielder killer”.’ 

‘Oh…we talking about totals, eh? Well then…the worst thing I ever did was…um, how do I say this,’ 

‘Well—’

‘Killed five Wielders at the same time.’ 

Adi sprang to his surprise.

‘What?!’ 

‘Ye. Was in Gr’Erhin m’ro. ‘Ad a mission to finish. Those fekhas came in the way.’

‘But they can heal themselves, how do you—’

‘They can heal the cuts, yeah, but not if you know the right cut to make.’

‘Throat?’ He asked, rubbing his hand on his throat.

‘Nah, m’ro,’ Brompen leant in, an adroit smile on his face, ‘it’s the eye.’ 

‘The eye? What? They can recover that, I—’

‘Nah, m’ro. That’s where their Enlightenment begins. It’s why their eyes turn white when they’re Wielding.’

‘So…it’s like a source of their power.’

‘Don’t know ‘bout that but it sure fekhin is the source o’their bloody deaths.’

Adi laughed, feeling surprised as he turned to face the bonfire.

‘Is there…anything at all about you that’s not about killing Wielders?’

‘Well, sure!’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah! Course.’

‘…Well?’

‘Uh…I like sitting on the porch. Sippin’ ale. Um…oh, and drinkin’ ale!’

Adi smiled, ‘Is there really nothing else you do?’

‘My mission are intensive. I don’t really get much time.’ 

‘Oh, so you grew that belly while doing killing Wielders, then?’

‘Oh, fekh off…told you I drink ale!’

***

It felt comforting to be surrounded by the white mist that and endless horizon that was his home. A dream world not built on thousands of flashing, variegated tunnels. This was his world—peace, conformity, calm. This was what he resonated with, and where he could be one with himself. 

This was where he could be with the one person who truly mattered to him. 

Olivia walked towards the little table from afar. She wore a silk black robe, a lost look on her face, and the same frame of a middle aged woman that she’d turned into. She said there was no going back for her, that this was her true form. And she was willing to show it to Adi now that he had learned more about the reality of the worlds.

‘Olivia.’ 

‘Adi Walkman.’ 

‘When did you become so old?’

‘And when did you become so arrogant?’

He frowned, giving her a strange look.

‘I’m not arrogant. What are you even saying?’

‘Oh, you’re not? Over the last few weeks you haven’t been…incredibly confident?’ 

It sounded strange to hear her speak as a middle aged woman. 

‘No, I’m not. I’m not arrogant.’ He clicked his fingers, ‘You were just used to me being insecure. Now that I’ve gotten this…this gift, I’m far more sure of myself, but I’m not arrogant.’

‘Are you not? The way you talk to your fellows, the way you respond to them. Almost with a hint of nastiness you didn’t have before.’

He looked the other way, ‘Wow, I…I really don’t know.’ 

‘You can’t let this power consume you, Adi Walkman. This was your path. I always knew it. And I always feared that you’d think far too high of yourself for it. Know what Layon Rathor was the first Dark Wielder. He used it to build and give back, not to gloat about himself and feel good. It’s something you have to be responsible for, not enjoy.’ 

Don’t know what she’s talking about. I’ve been super nice. I haven’t even done anything wrong.

‘Alright. Fine, I understand.’ He looked around the blank canvas of a sky—the paint seamless, ‘No dream invaders?’

‘None thus far.’ She said. ‘Wait…what about…the one behind you?’

Without a second thought, sprung off his feet and turned around, heart beating fast.

And there he was. The spoilt brat of Kaandor—Koralisar. His slicked, black hair was untouched, robe and dress immaculate. And yet he was on his knees, clenching his gut. Blood leaked from his torso. And that was when Adi saw his visage—pale like the water of a bleak, stagnant pond—pale like a lifeless fish floating on the surface of the sea.

Lifeless. Lifeless.

‘Guh…’ He grunted, trying to crawl his way to Adi. ‘You…you…Ah!’ He cried, trying his best to be move.

‘You…did this.’

He turned to Olivia, ‘Are you…are you showing me this?’

She said no words, but instead just shook her head. 

‘This is your own flash.’

He walked over to the dying man, who’d fallen on his back—eyes fixated on the white sky.

‘Ah…my old friend Adi.’ He said. 

What? Old friend?

‘Is that a light? One in the sky?’ He called out, saliva spewing from his mouth which he’d lost control of.

Don’t let the sentiment chew into you, Adi, you fool! He thought, pushing away the dying frame of the one he’d killed.

 The one he’d killed.

‘Oh my god, Olivia!’ He said, turning and running towards her. He took a small breath and looked her in the eye.

‘I know what I have to do.’

                                                     ***

Chapter 62; The Lands

/The Banished Lands

Lothar Rolan, the wronged Lord of the royal family of Loazer. The Lord-to-be turned prisoner. The degenerate of the family—the one who should have been lost on the shore of Kais in the place of his lost brother. 

It’d been a few weeks since they’d made their stop at the foothills of the Eaginys Mountains, and they were supposed to be reaching The Southern Lands any time soon. The temperatures outside had dropped noticeably—the cold incessant. Blizzards flew all around the outside of their carts, little particles of snow making their way in and frosting the outer edges of the wood. The captives were all given woollen blankets, thankfully, without which they would have possibly died. 

Tirette still sat by Lothar’s side—his body covered in bruises and dried blood—who was now able to move far more than he could those weeks ago when he’d received a beating outside the mountains. 

‘How do you know so much about The Lands?’ Lothar asked—he’d learned that people simply referred to The Banished Lands as “The Lands”.

‘Eh, had a cousin. He wen’t there. Wrote a letter.’ She said, fingering a small ball made of marble. She played around with it as they spoke.

‘A letter? The prisoners aren’t allowed to write letters.’ 

‘Well, depends on the class. He was an Exiled, before a bloody Venture killed ‘em. We got the news.’

‘…The fekh are you saying?’ 

‘Oh…don’t know the classes, eh?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Well, there’s four of ‘em in The Lands. Exiled, Workers, Ventures, Prisoners.’

‘Care to—’

‘Me cousin was an Exiled. Like I said. They ‘ad a shack, or a house, and they lived doin’ small jobs ‘ere and there. Whatever The Leg told ‘em to do. The Ventures, well, they’re the ones who did all those tough jobs—fishin’ in the icy seas, killin bears and deers for meat, climbin’ down mountains, and whatnot. They’s crazy, they are. One of ‘em killed me cousin.’

‘And The Exiled are at…the top?’

‘Yeah, yeah. The others don’t really get those nice houses.’ 

He frowned, worried about what class he was.

‘What class am I?’

‘Eh, you’ll find out. I’m probably gonna be a Worker. Fucks ain’t gonna like me.’ 

‘Why not? What’s not to like about you?’ 

‘Shut up. Don’t pull mah string. Keep all that to ye’ self.’ 

Well, that’s what’s not to like, isn’t it? He thought, raising his eyebrows as he sighed.

‘You’se a lord. Or was. I’m sure they’ll make you an Exiled.’ 

‘And “they” are The Leg, right?’

‘Yep. “The Leg”. Pure assholes.’

A few hours had passed as the rumbling cart moved on and on through a rough road—stuck forever in the cart, moving and rolling over the same rugged roads for hours, days, weeks. He’d started to lose track of time, almost lost in his thoughts. The moving cart was beginning to become an abyss for him—no one said a word. Grim as they all were, they all sat with their mouths shut, awaiting their doomed futures. He was beginning to become a part of it. Yet that abyss was halted as the cart did. The doors swung open to let in the blinding white light reflecting off the snow. He winced his eyes as a spotlight shone straight into the wagon—wiola shooting its rays straight through the doors and towards every human it could find.

‘Come on out, all of ye slugs! Get out!’ The deep voice of a green vested Croc came, as he held the prisoners and dragged them off the wagon, one by one. Three or four more Crocs came to the wagon, pulling out all the prisoners. Some kind of stew had been prepared in large pots outside, as all of the prisoners were fed. Lothar had a look around—they were on a large—nearly endless—flatland, and all he could see was one thing—snow. Snow covered lands extending beyond his vision. He couldn’t fathom the size of it all, and so he was just pushed along with the rest of the captives, fed his share of the stew, and moved towards the “Lines” as they were called. There was a crossroads up ahead—the ground was split into seven distinct paths which he could see. All going forward into what seemed to him in the distance as the same land. 

‘Two! Two with us! Line Two!’ He could hear the Crocs shouting from afar. They’d informed his wagon that they were all in Line Two, and so he made his way to the Croc, his woollen blanket wrapped tightly around his chest. He could hear himself shivering as he followed the monotonous cue into the icy continent. They walked for an hour or so—completely silent—surrounded by Crocs, until they finally reached the gate. It was massive—an enormous green gate, slate green, pulled by horses and men on either side. It was built   to be rugged—to withstand the snow storms that flooded The Lands. It extended hundreds of metres wide—joining the border walls at each edge of the gate. Atop the walls stood guarding Crocs with crossbows in hand—they stood alternatively: one facing the border and one facing inwards. They continued to line the walls sightless—extended all the way across both ends, out of his vision entirely.

‘That is…’

‘Huge. Yeah, heard all about from the letters. The Lands ain’t no baby’s walk.’

He was enthralled by everything he’d seen thus far—he couldn’t have even dreamt of a place like this, let alone it being real.

Just remember, green shack, a hand holding wood, three leagues through the gate. Three leagues through the gate.

***

The man at Galathground wasn’t lying.

Three leagues into The Lands, he found the green house. A little cottage which had a small symbol on its door—the symbol of a hand holding up a log of wood.

That’s the one…He thought to himself, shocked as he stared at the locket hanging on his neck.

Just like Tirette had said, The Leg had placed Lothar in the Exiled class and had given him a map and telling him where his home was. He was nearly eighteen leagues down the gate, and so he had another fifteen leagues to walk. 

As crazy as he thought The Lands were going to be, they still surprised him. The entire place was one humongous—unlimited ice covered piece of land. But this side of the border was far better—there were houses all over, enormous structures, prisons as he’d found, built all around the city, and there were even mountains. Cliffs by the icy sea, nearly all of them guarded by Crocs to prevent an escape into another Line.

He walked up to the little snow covered porch of the green house, giving the door a slight knock.

A woman answered; her hair was a total mess and she wore sack like clothes with a warming blanket covering her.

‘What do ye want?’ She asked, looking casual.

‘I’m, uh…the Innkeeper’s steward.’ 

Her eyes widened as, without a second thought, she grabbed his chest and pulled him inside the shack, throwing him onto the ground with an amount of force he wasn’t expecting at all. 

She pulled a knife on him, knee on his chest, and the dagger at the tip of his neck.

‘Show me your locket. Now!’ She said, teeth grinding. Her blue eyes stared daggers at him just as much as her knife did.

‘On my neck! On my fekhin’ neck!’ 

She tore the button off his shirt, ripping away the woollen blanket he wore on top, and yanked the locket. She eyed the glowing gem inside, finally nodding. She let go of him, grip loosening. She took her hand off the locket and walked away from him, grabbing herself a drink.

‘Gah…are you crazy?’ He asked, hand on his throat.

‘Beyond. Lothar Rolan—you are indeed the steward. Welcome to my post.’ 

‘Who are you?’

‘Doesn’t matter who I am. All that matters is that you keep that locket safe as yourself. You lose the locket, you lose your life. Got it?’ 

Frowning, he took a second to breath until he nodded. 

Who in Krilin’s mighty name is this?

The lodge was almost entirely made of wood—a fire was burning at the corner with the smoke going up a chimney. 

Be careful with the wood, lady. Don’t want your precious “hut” catching fire, do ya?

The entire lodge seemed like a mess—things were cluttered about, small items thrown about in a messy fashion. In the side was a table with a large goblet of wine, from which she’d already poured an entire glass for herself, not even offering him a cup.

‘Sit down, “Lord”. You have a lot to learn.’

He shifted about, until he finally sat at the foot of her bed.

‘About what?’ 

‘The Ages of Wood.’

***

End of Part 3

ALternatives

Kaandor • Koralisar

A  Snake Soldier 

The Tower Gate, Kaandor

‘Wait, wait, wait, how d’you know all this, eh?’ His fellow Snake asked him, casually digging his nose. 

Way to expect elegance from the guards at The Tower. 

‘You’re just a guard at the King’s Quarters, how d’you know their plans?’ 

‘Cause I’m a guard at the fookhin Quarters, lad. Where else am I gonna get my information?’ 

His friend Kilian stared into the horizon for a moment until he finally understood what he was saying.

‘Oh…he he! I get ye.’

‘Right. What was your question?’

‘No, no, no, I don’t get it. Tell me from the start. What’s our plan?’

The two guards fumbled to understand each other as they bathed in their boredom, guarding the King’s Quarters in the Capital of Kaandor. There were guards posted all over the walls as well as the inner walls, and there hadn’t been a disturbance at the Quarters in the last twenty years; there wasn’t going to be one now, and so the two of them were taking their duty rather casually.

‘Alright, I’ll tell ye. But only cause ye stubborn arse keeps me company ‘ere.’

‘Shut up and get on with it!’

‘I would. If your wrinkled old face didn’t put me to sleep.’

‘Stahved! Shut up. Fookh off. Now tell me.’ 

‘That some new song you came up with? “Shut up. Fookh off. Tell me.” ’

‘Fine. Don’t give me ye frickin’ news. I don’t want it anyway.’ Kilian said, hand on his belt as he looked up at the sky, trying to behave casual.

‘Alright,’ Stahved replied, careless, ‘I ain’t gonna tell ye.’

The two stood for a short while, until Kilian tugged at his sleeve.

‘Knew it. Fookhin knew it. You wanna know, don’t ye?’

‘If only it wasn’t my kingdom’s news!’

‘Alright. Alright. I’ll tell ye.’ Stahved said, following his words with a slap across Kilian’s face.

‘The fookh was that?’

‘Can’t a man banter with his friend?’

‘Can’t believe you!’ 

‘Well, I can’t believe Kaandor either. Migrating a kingdom? Bah! It’s ridiculous.’

‘What? Migrating a…what are you saying?’ 

‘Yeah! Yeah! They’re all movin’…apparently the ‘mount a’ people here is too much. Need to shift into another kingdom, Grenoria or something, as I’ve heard. Plus with the war and all.’

‘The war? We’re fookhin’ winnin’ the war!’

Stahved leaned in, ‘Not in everyone else’s eyes. Not in the Loazians’ eyes. They think we’re not. That’s the beauty of it.’

‘The Linteres’ would’ve told em! They’re allies.’

‘Is that so? Do you really think that the Rolans would keep giving em’ food, horses, ships, and the lot, if they knew that the Linteres’ were losin’ this war?’

‘So our Council has managed to hide it all…’

‘Indeed. It’s all a part of their scheme.’

‘But I don’t believe that it’s Grenoria. That place is filled with vicers! Koralisar won’t take a second of it.’

‘Alright, Kilian, it’s not Grenoria they’re lookin’ at.’

‘So where?’ 

‘It’s always been in the Rathorian scripture. We’re going to—’

‘REBELS!!’ Came a cry from afar, as a Snake raced down on his stallion, red flag in his hand. Stahved stumbled, feeling his heart race as he found an army of nearly hundreds marching towards the wall—their colours were discordant, their weapons sloppy. 

‘Yeah, that’s a rebel group, alright!’ Kilian called out, marching into formation with the rest of the Snakes in front of the outer gate.

***

Koralisar

‘But is the scripture everything? Must I follow it?’ Koralisar asked, feeling a cold brew rumble over his mood. He felt rather detached from his reality—lost in a blazing field of his own indecisiveness.

‘You must follow it. For the good of the Kingdom.’ His prophesier Hermi responded. The two of them sat in the Council’s Chambers, the large round table feeling empty without the other thirteen members—the newly appointed Firion included. 

‘So I must do it. I must expand?’

‘All the people on your Council believe so.’ Hermi said, tucking a way a part of his orange robe into his sleeve. His shawl covered his chest, giving the wrinkled old man a sage look. ‘Your father Enosar was the last Rathor to follow the scripture. The last one not consumed by the greed of power. Don’t you think your family legacy is something you want to follow?’

What he said was a soft spot for Koralisar to talk about—his family legacy. After all, he first Rathor since Layon to be born without the powers of The Dark Wielder. Instead, he make did with a staff given to him by his father.

‘Why?’ He whimpered, ‘I never understood. What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I born The Dark Wielder?’ 

The prophesier turned his gaze elsewhere, licking his lip, deep in contemplation. 

‘Why…I mean, was I a…a disappointment?’ 

Chronisc save me…that word stings.

He’d dealt with being a “disappointment” all his life, no matter how hard he tried to be a good person. 

‘What is it? Why wasn’t I born with it.’
A tear was definitely going to trickle down his face.

‘A lot of things can’t be explained, my king. I know what it’s like. I know how it must feel to be exempt from the greatest family heirloom there is. But heed not in deeper meanings, for I can assure you that with my own eyes of the future that your worth is no less than any of your forefathers.’

How can I know that? Am I not always going to be the spoilt, teenage Rathor who never grew into holding the Dark Wielder’s light? He thought grimly. 

‘My king, if only you will see what I see.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Here.’ He said, reaching his arm out and grabbing Koralisar’s temple. In a flash he was transported into a vision—somewhere outside Kaandor. He saw a company of travellers, all of them had blurry faces. But it wasn’t about what he saw—he could feel something. Feel something different. This group of travellers was going to be important.

He gasped for breath as Hermi removed his hands as he jolted back into reality.

‘Who are they?’ He asked, leaning in and pushing back his slick hair.

‘Some very important people you need to meet, my king.’ 

‘Who?’

The wrinkled man straightened his back, taking a deep breath.

‘Adi Walkman.’ 

***

Part 4

A Change of Heart

Chapter 63; A Trip South

/D’Wani Leagues, Unith

Isolde was a meticulous man. He wanted things in one specific way, and anything else wouldn’t do. That was why when Lady Theren told him to take the teenage vicer Rendron, whom they’d brought in at The Bremingade, under his wing and train him to be a commander, he’d wanted to do it in a very precise, methodical way.
Achieving that was panning out to be rather difficult, considering how radical minded the Midnight Man was. 

The two of them were walking back from the training grounds a few leagues away from Unith, tired and drained. They were in the middle of the D’Wani leagues—the sewage stink plaguing the streets as Rendron struggled to breath. It’d been years since Isolde was living here, and so he was used to it. 

Hours had passed since they’d trained and dusk had already consumed the skies—a morning ray only hours away; they were deep into midnight. 

‘You did good, Rendron.’ Isolde said, giving the vicer a pat. He was still in dismay, since everything had happened at The Bremingade. After all of his troops had mindlessly surrendered—Isolde’d heard that Rendron hadn’t been filled in by the Council about what their true plan was, for even they knew how radical he was. 

He’s a change maker this one. Isolde thought, staring into his eyes. His sullen, sunken eyes.

‘Yeah…yeah, ‘course I’m gonna fight well. It’s all I’ve ever done. I fight and I kill. The Tofer.’

‘What?’

‘That’s what they called me—my men. I was their Tofer.’

‘What’t that?’

‘Leading commander. Their general. Even as a teenager they took me in to led them on. And here I stand, my forces defeated, my sword fallen.’ 

Isolde walked beside him, uncomfortable, trying to think of something else to talk about. 

‘I heard you were quite the reader, back in Kaandor.’

‘Only cause I was forced to. Snakes thought I was a sharp one. Meant to be a general for their vicers. Them and their slave vicers. We stay in their kingdom, grounded at our feet,’ he said, raw and passionate, ‘Snakes hold us back, tearing us away from our families. They put us in homes we’ve never been to, fekhin leagues away from our families! Hundreds of leagues, only to turn us into their personal weapons.’
Rendron held his spear, twiddling his thumb around its edge as the two of them walked on. 

‘I don’t have a family, spy. I don’t harbour children. Those people,’ he said, pointing back towards The Bremingade, ‘those vicers were my only family. The only ones I’d ever known. And now they send us all into our death or imprisonment.’ 

The teenager’s voice rumbled, his throat croaky, his eyes teary, ‘If you all can have your family, then why can’t we, huh?! Just because we are vicers?’ He cried, holding Isolde’s shoulder and pushing him back. 

‘Do you think that’s fair? Do you?!’ 

‘Rendron. Let go of me, I—we don’t imprison vicers here—’

‘You all walk on by as they take us away from everything we love. What have the Rolans ever tried to do? In—’

A swift boot struck Isolde’s right leg as he felt himself fall flat to the ground. His eyes widened and his heart quickened; he instantly grabbed his sword, only to hear the sound of Rendron groaning after a loud stroke. Isolde raced to get up, seeing nothing in the dark. His temple was run over by beads of sweat, and for the first time in combat, a nervous fright overcame him. 

What in Krilin’s grave…what is happening to me?!

He swung his sword wildly, unable to think, only to feel it strike another sword. Before he knew it, he felt a jabbing kick thrust him backwards as he felt himself fall onto his back. All these blows, they were coming out of…no where.

In the distance, as his own vision faded, he could faintly hear Rendron’s spear being swiftly spun about, but even his wood broke, ultimately failing to see in the dark. He was struck with some strange weapon. Moments later Isolde heard a loud thud beside him—Rendron’s body falling flat beside him. 

‘Carry ‘em. Take ‘em down South,’ he heard a cruel voice say, ‘you lot know what to do.’ 

***

Chapter 64; Here We Are

/The Capital of Kaandor

The five of them were passing by a small town on an uphill mountain—the orange and red trees engulfing the empty spaces of the village—as they found themselves just leagues away from The Capital. Something about the red and orange trees made Adi feel sick—this was not the right colour of nature. In fact, other than Ulke, something was strangely off about this planet, Layonas, and about his mission to. He could feel something calling to him, almost, every time he looked towards the Capital. Almost as if he was wanted there. 

There’s no chance. Biv said we were Cloaked. Rys had done it in the very beginning. He thought, reassuring himself. 

‘No, no, ye got it all wrong, m’ro. The fekh is with ye?’ Brompen said, eyes baggy and limbs exhausted. He raised his arm a tiny amount, making a vulgar gesture at Biv.

‘Why? Why you do this to me?’ 

‘See, ye fekhin idiot, the grease comes from the pig. Ye—ye don’t put it on the pig. The fekh is in your brain, m’ro?’

‘Could be asking you the same thing.’ Adi said, sniggering and walking ahead.

‘M’ro…you estranged, blond haired little fekh—what, what do you think, you can just impose ye’ self on everyone? Fekh no! Mah people wouldn’t take you for a second.’

‘I don’t need your petty people’s recognition.’ He said, turning around. Nathanial and Grace walked close by; The Hunter couldn’t care less for their little squabbles. 

‘I mean…look at yourself m’ro. Your eyes are always off in the…fekhin distance. M’ro, can you tell me what ye lookin at? What…what do you see, perhaps a small cock at the ‘orizon? Something to your liking, clearly.’

Adi jolted back in his place and stopped Brompen in his tracks.

‘What is it with you? The alcohol you drank as a kid? Or…or, a general fekhin hatred for everything in this world?’

He could feel a dark mist coalescing around his fists. Anger raging in his head. It was almost as if he was beginning to lose control on his calm—and it was a good thing. He was no longer a passive pushover  for other people. Instead he felt empowered; he had a vision. And nothing was going to stand in his way. Not even an ally. 

‘Walkman, I swear by Krilin’s name you watch your next footstep or you’ll be standing in a lot more dirt than my path.’ Brompen said, breathing silently as he whispered the words to him who was up close to his face. 

Is it worth it?

He took a moment, but ultimately settled down, moving out of his way. He still had an angry look on his face, wanting to smash Brompen to pieces.

Who the fekh does he think he is? Tries to be too big, doesn’t he? He thought, shaking it off. He turned around to look at Nathanial, whose eyebrows were arched with a distinct look of worry. He lacked the composure with which he usually conducted himself. He turned to Biv who urged him on, Adi pretending not to see anything. He walked over to him, and without looking, Adi could tell that his hands were behind his back—he was trying to be humble and gracious: nonthreatening to him. 

Hah. Real nice pretending, eh? He thought, smiling to himself. 

‘Noble companion.’ Nathanial said, nodding to acknowledge him.

‘The fekh?’ He asked, laughing at him.

‘What? Can’t I greet a friend?’ 

‘Yeah, well, are you the King that you’re going to talk like that?’

‘Well…a Chaimberlain isn’t considered all that much lower, now, is he?’ 

‘Stop the small talk, Hunter. What do you have to say?’ 

The royal man frowned at him, acting confused. 

‘Wha—what? I don’t have anything to say.’ 

‘Please. You walk over here with your hands behind your back, an innocent look on your face? The only time you held yourself like that was when you were asking the King to Enlighten you.’ 

‘Bah! Rubbish! I am a man with my manners in order.’ 

As the two of them conversed, Adi could hear Brompen’s grunts from behind the two of them, his gears clinking as his heavy footsteps clunked on the ground.

‘However, be as it may, you are right, Adi. I do have something to ask you.’ 

‘Shoot.’

‘Sorry, what?’

Oh, he’s not going to get that.

‘Sorry—go ahead.’

He took a breath, staring somewhere far. It seemed clear he had something difficult to say.

‘What is it, Adi? Why have you become such an angered man.’

That’s a good question. 

‘I don’t know…m’ro. I—I don’t think I’m angry. I just feel…more confident.’ 

‘Confident, yes, but don’t you see it? You lash out on Brompen all the time, snigger behind our backs, and…you elevate yourself above the rest of us. That is not the Adi Walkman that I know, so what happened over these few weeks?’ 

Was he really changing for the worse? A lost boy with no direction and only one emotion—sadness—into a man with a clear vision and confidence to execute it—was that really a bad thing? He certainly didn’t think so, but everyone around him did, yet he couldn’t understand why. 

I just don’t get it! I’m far more focused now, far more in my skin! Why can’t they appreciate that? 

‘Don’t slander me for nothing, Nathanial! I haven’t done any of those things!’ He said, lashing out and pointing at him.

‘And what was this?’ He asked waving his hands. 

Shit…maybe has a point, I…no! No! Are you really going to let such a small thing take this away from you? 

‘Look, I can’t agree with you on this, Hunter. I just can’t.’ 

He pursed his lips, nodding in understanding, ‘Perhaps you speak the truth. I am glad that you have found yourself once more, that you now have a rugged footstep and not a loose one.’ 

Wow…he understood. 

‘I appreciate that, m’ro. Truly, I do.’ 

He patted him on his back and the company walked on. 

A few hours later, they were on the peak of the hill, the towns all behind them—they were walking on forest hills for hours, until they’d finally reached. 

‘Here we are.’ Nathanial said, sack slung over his shoulder. He led the group, standing right at the peak of the red mountain. He turned to face all of them, a slight smile on his face. 

‘The Capital of Kaandor.’ 

Wow…I can’t believe it. We’re actually here. Adi thought, eager to see it. He ran up the hill at full steam, jolting to stop himself at the summit beside Nathanial. 

What a sight. 

The entire city was uphill—each and every part entirely visible, right until the end—and, oh, what an end the city had. A tower like none that he’d seen on Erhin—perhaps even on earth! 

It was a huge black tower, rising above all else in the city; a clear show of dominance and leadership.
The rest of the houses seemed arranged in a way that the poorer classes lived in their dirty homes in the nearer edge of the city, but with each passing league up until the tower, the homes kept getting nicer.

‘Is…is that—’

‘The King’s Quarters.’ Nathanial said, ‘Rys would have surely told you about it.’ 

That was where he was—Koralisar Rathor, in his rightful, inherited home, in the peak of the world, sitting like some false king, bathing in the glory of his forefathers. 

He disgusts me…that loathsome, rejected degenerate! Adi thought, grinding his teeth in anger at the very thought of him. 

It would be wrong to kill him—we’re here to make peace. He thought, throwing away his bad thoughts. 

And that was when he remembered it. Layon Rathor’s words to him.

You must let your passions guide you, Adi Walkman. The words played repeatedly in his head, without end. 

Passion…passion! What I wish to do…Not what I think is right. 

And he wished, deep down, he wished to kill Koralisar. He couldn’t stand him out of some strange repulsion, and he knew that this was what he wanted—and he’d never been surer. 

I saw it…in my dream, I saw it! I have to kill him. I killed him in my dream, I’ll kill him again! He thought, fists clenching. 

‘Adi, you okay?’ Biv asked, staring at his fists, ‘The Black Light—it’s on you.’ 

‘I know, Biv. I called for it.’ 

So that was that—he was going to kill Koralisar Rathor.

***

Chapter 65; Kovacs

/The Banished Lands - The Second Line

Kovacs was stranger than most people Lothar’d met in his life. She was sudden, swift in her movement; she never left a trace. Whether it was her killing a man and wiping the sword clean, or simply doing the jump from one Line to another, she was nearly invisible—a ghost, if one may. She’d do things as she’d will—no care, no hurry, or sometimes, Krilin’s own feet didn’t run as fast as hers did. She was also a lead down in The Lands for something called “The Ages of Wood”. Over the past few weeks, he’d been staying with her, visiting Tirette whenever he could, but Kovacs had been training him, conditioning him. She’d talk about his locket a lot, never fully explaining what it was, but just hinting at a lot of things. Until now, all he was able to gather was that The Ages of Wood was some large group of people in Loazer, and that all that they are is “just another player”, yet something seemed steaming suspicious. Even so, he didn’t have much else to ride on here, and so he took her offered benefits and tried to make his way surviving as an Exiled. 

‘Life of the Exiled isn’t all that great either, Lothar.’ She said, the two of them sitting in her green cottage. 

‘Why not? We’re free to move about, we get Pennicles to trade.’ Lothar responded, fiddling with a twig.

‘And yet we’re just The Leg’s little pieces to move about—throw as they like. We’re not any better than the rest.’

‘What? The Prisoners and the lot? Bah! We’re far better.’ He said, shoving away her idea.

She got up and slowly walked towards him, eyes dead serious, and she pulled her arm out, swift and invisible, slapping him across the face. She then came close to him and whispered, ‘A few weeks in here, my “lord” doesn’t make you some master of The South. Take it from someone who’s been killing here for more than eighteen years.’

She tugged his hair and yanked his head back, but he didn’t do anything—he’d learned it was for the better if he just listened to her.

‘Alright, ‘nuff chit chat. Let’s get onto training.’

‘There’s a blizzard outside!’

‘Exactly. Get off ye arse.’

***

A wooden peg. His arms were tied to a wooden peg. The blazing cold rushed through his temple, through his cheeks, through his chest. He could feel the snowflakes falling down—pouring and compounding into ice all over his visage and his hair. He shivered and his teeth hit each other with a pace unmatched before. His chest was uncovered—exposed to the deadly cold of the forever snow of The South. 

‘But you have to know, Lothar, you must. If you are not one with where you are, you’ll never be there.’ She said, raising her metallic hand and jabbing him in the gut. She was wearing a metallic sleeve on her fist—striking him hard. 

‘A little punch is trivial.’ 

jab. 

‘You must know that the pain…is in your mind.’ 

jab. 

He screamed for help, begged for mercy.

‘The more you fight it, the more fight you’ll face.’ 

His body was covered in red gushes and marks and scars—ever since that first beating outside the Eaginys Mountains, he’d felt nothing but blistering cold and blinding pain all over his body. Kovacs’ training didn’t particularly help.

‘Wha…’ he said, head down, passing into unconsciousness.

‘What are you saying, Lothar?’

‘Wha…do you know about fighting?’ 

She turned back, covering her face in a casual look.

‘Oh…that game, eh?’ 

She picked up a bludgeon from the ground, beating his torso bloody. 

‘Until you learn how to take a hit, you’ll never be able to give one. You’re just a pony-riding lord’s son. You come from a land of fancies—and you’ve never ever lived down here. Down here’s the real world. Down here’s where you’ll become a real man. 

She walked towards him and untied his hands—he crumbled instantly, falling to his knees and collapsing. She stood over him, watching him, her sharp eyes and stabbing stare making him uncomfortable—though he could barely pay any heed to it. He lay on the ground, gasping for breath, beaten to a pulp. He felt red all over himself—crushing cramps enveloped his muscles, and overlaying cuts scraped the fabric of his skin. He couldn’t even feel the cold of the ground anymore.

‘Up. Pick him up.’ She called out. He felt firm arms tug his shoulder, grabbing him up and carrying his limp body into the cabin and by the fire. He felt a warm surge traverse up his body—comfort. Comfort at last. Sound, resonating comfort that filled in the empty void of beaten bones and bruised, bloody skin. 

‘Get me a wet rag.’ Kovacs said—the sound of her voice faintly travelling into his ears. Everything was blurry—sound and vision alike. A bunch of mixed lines entering his mind. His eyes could barely open; he almost felt he was drowsy like he was the night of Rothrin’s murder. The night that he was prancing about the green hills of Kenneth—dancing his way to glory as the brutal thoughts churned up in his mind. Dancing as he grabbed his dagger and stabbed—

‘Alright, lay still, Lothar.’ She said, seemingly not worried about him at all; it was as if this was just another day of work for her. She put the rag on his arms, wiping off the blood with delicate strokes. 

‘Don’t let the pain get to you,’ she whispered in his ear, ‘with each hit, you learn something new.’ 

Her soft, delicate hands held the rag, stroking his arms and legs.

‘You will be the fiercest of them all, I swear it. You will be fiercer than them all, Lothar Rolan.’ 

He felt ease—relaxed. He felt the pain melting away—the torture of the snow fading. 

‘You will be the greatest warrior the West or the South has ever seen. I swear it.’ 

***

Chapter 66; Another Mission For The Lady

/Kenneth, Loazer

A blissful wash cleared through the dry sands of the shore—the heat of the ground drinking in the cold and the warmth of the traversing waves. She watched the shores of Kais from atop the Lords’ Tower in Haimar—contemplative about her fate as the Lady. Was she going to be able to do it? Or was she already destroyed by The Ages of Wood? They’d already began instructing her around like it was their kingdom, and for some reason she listened—some sickening tell inside of her advised her not to tamper with things far beyond her reach—some strange fervour told her to follow their orders and words. Something felt so polarising about them. The Innkeeper, for all his bickering, was someone who, surprisingly, floored her. As a spy, she deeply admired his will, determination, and subtlety—she was half the spy he was. And speaking of spies, she was missing one. 

It’d been a few days since she’d returned from Kaandor—she’d kept everything a secret, for the safety of preventing war. People were shaken by her sudden disappearance and reappearance, but all she’d told her people was that “she needed time and space to decide the future of the kingdom”. 

What a load of bullshit…no Lord in this world will buy that! 

She felt that she had already done enough to damage her standing as the Lady—what was another error in light of all that? 

What a mockery I’ve made of this already…

She was in the Lords’ Tower with Aldin Kora and his beneficiaries. The old man was dressed sharply—a sleek red overcoat complemented Theren’s red dress—the two of them dressed in the common formals of Loazer. The two of them sat opposite each other, Aldin’s hands folded and an ever-so-present smile shone on his face. That innocent glee he had about him was something that made Theren trust him dearly.

Hvit was also present, sitting just besides Lord Aldin. He had become rather lordly lately. 

‘My lady, ah! Please.’ Aldin said, waiting to take a seat for Theren. 

‘Lord Aldin, your company’s always a pleasure.’ 

‘Ah! As is yours, my lady.’ He said, eyes wrinkled around the borders as he smiled. A smile of wiola’s own shine. 

Hvit looked down at a leaflet of parchments kept on the table in front of him; he fidgeted with a quill in his hand, impatient like a cat with a fur ball, ‘If we may exchange pleasantries later, we have some tremendously important matters to—’

‘So, tell me, my lady, how have you been coping with your loss?’ Aldin asked, solemn and regretful. He didn’t twitch for a second—the man had immaculate conduct. 

‘Oh, my lord, it is something I wish not talk about. Something so dreadful that it drains me of all life and soul with simple talk of it.’ 

Oh Krilin…

Hvit glanced at her with an ever-so-slight frown on his face, curious a babe. 

‘Then let’s talk Crocodiles, my lady.’ 

‘Numbers.’ 

‘Well, as you know, with the loss of around two thousand soldiers from The Bremingade, owing ten thousand soldiers to the South of Loazer, ten thousand to Kaandor…apart from the thousand royal guards that we have, we are at a tally of…’ he spoke, checking a ledger, ‘three thousand fit, fighting Crocodiles in Northern Loazer.’

Silence. Utter silence. She’d gone from twenty five thousand soldiers to three thousand soldiers within two weeks. 

Aldin got off his chair, coming towards Theren whose eyes were lost in a solemn gaze—the table in front of her was her horizon; the chair she sat on was the sand of the beach on which she lay. Hopeless, helpless. More than anything what she wanted was to just…escape.

Aldin held her shoulder, leaning in towards her ear, ‘my lady, bear you not the burden of this loss. This is not your fault. Your father, great the man that he was, owed this debt to the Southern kingdoms. The loss of ten thousand men to Kaandor was out of sheer safety of our kingdom. If anything, you have acted bravely!’ He said, turning up to address the entire chamber. All the lords and ladies faced him, even Theren looking up at him in hope. 

‘No other leader of ours would have marched into The Bremingade so fiercely—ready for victory after an ambush. No other leader would take the mantle of Lady after such trauma and loss, and no other leader we will accept…as our ruler.’ 

The silk sleeve that covered her arm rubbed softly against the table. She slid up off her chair, viewing the entire chamber. Lords and ladies, dressed in gowns, red dresses embroidered with rich patterns, and vests with many different ren-calls emblazoned on them, stood tall and proud as a wave of words flew through the ocean of lords. 

A slow clapping began—light as a few drizzles—which suddenly turned into a thunderous roar. The guards from outside looked on as well—all the lords and ladies inside the chamber cheered loud and heartily—she…had their support. She actually had their support. 

‘Thank you, lords and ladies, cover-lords, and…spy…gathered here today. I take heed to your words with the utmost gratitude, Lord Aldin, for all the kindness you offer me I could hardly give back half of it.’ 

Wait a minute…

A thought sparked in her head—an anomaly. All of a sudden, from insecurities to strengths, her mind shifted to a great beam—a sudden enlightenment.

‘If Kaandor needed soldiers so desperately for this war, then why would they leave thousands of vicers behind?’ She asked. The mood of the chamber suddenly shifted from a general, admiring chit chatter to a sense of serious silence. It was as if the executioner had dropped his axe.

‘My lady?’ Lord Aldin inquired.

‘Think about…’ she said, getting off her chair and reading the parchment, ‘one thousand vicers dead, four thousand left as captives in Loazer. Why would The Council ever leave four thousand of their own behind if they needed men so desperately for the war?’ 

‘My lady…it was a…peace offering!’ 

‘Well, of course not! Their forces were far better than ours. It was a display of pity. But the problem is—it doesn’t add up.’ 

Aldin frowned as he turned to glance at one of his beneficiaries. 

‘The fighting forces provided by our Crocodiles are far better—’

‘Our arse was butchered by the Midnight longswords and handed to us on a plate, Lord Aldin. It doesn’t make sense!’

‘Unless—’ Hvit began,

‘Unless they need something more. A grander scheme, if you may.’ She said, bubbling with excitement at her realisation, at the same time nervous to see the outcome.What was even more frightening  to her was that none of them had thought of this before. 

‘My lady, Kaandor leave their vicers behind and take our soldiers to remove our power and provide themselves with additional aid in the war, whether they were winning it or not. You can never be too safe.’

‘And so if they must be safe, then why leave their soldiers behind? Lord Aldin—think! Open up. Don’t you see? It’s a power play. They’re planting their seed for something big to come.’ 

No one seemed to be convinced—some of them scratching their noses, others standing awkwardly.

‘The vicers were far more skilled in combat. If they really needed them, they’d never send six thousand of them here during the war. Even if it meant that we were sending them ten thousand back. There’s something we’re not seeing, my lords and ladies, and something I’m afraid we must see before it’s too late.’ 

***

A few hours had passed since she met all the lords at Haimar, and she was now on horseback along side Hvit, her only companion to The Innkeeper’s Lodge. She wasn’t going to travel on the roads of Unith alone once more. 

‘What was so pressing for you to tell me at the table, Hvit?’ She asked, half annoyed. The autumn breeze still blew through the lands, with the faintest touch of winter settling into the moving air. The solemn, grey skies canopied the outline of the horizon, giving all of Northern Loazer a bleak feel. A cold thing had come and kissed the lands and skies above it. 

‘You don’t understand, my lady, it was not something I could say there—’

‘Just tell me!’ 

‘…Isolde is missing.’ 

Her eyes widened. Heart skipped a beat. She felt a thunderous worry overcome her. 

‘What?! How?’ 

‘We…don’t know, my lady. It was almost precisely the way you went missing as well. One minute he was here and the next he…wasn’t.’ 

She couldn’t fathom it—no place was left in her mind to contemplate the “how” of it. She could only think of getting him back. 

‘Prepare a coast wide search. First thing in the next twelfth. Have our men spread out all across Northern Loazer.’ She stopped her horse, her puffing stallion neighing restlessly as he prodded the ground with his hooves. She turned to glance at Hvit, eyes wide and dominating, ‘And find me my fekhing spy, Hvit. You hear me?! FIND HIM!’

The two of them stopped outside the Lodge about a forty-eighth later. The dirty canals of Unith no longer had the reflection of her fearlessness as her booted feet treaded on them—she felt afraid—scared that someone would jump out on her and capture her. And so she looked all ways before entering the shady building. 

‘Stand out here. No, a few feet away, Hvit. Wait for me.’ 

‘My lady, are you sure this is—’

‘If you don’t shut your face now, I’ll have to cut a major part of your pay out and give it to Muriel.’ 

Frazzled, he halted his stallion, giving way to Theren. She removed her feet from the stirrups, grasping the left reign from both her hands. She kicked her self off the back of the stallion, who neighed softly, and stuck a soft landing—an eerie entrance to an eerie place. Water leaked from the top of the doorsill—little droplets constantly falling on the already wet floor—the place was well and true an ally to avoid. She walked through the mess of a seepage, entering the door and following the man holding a torch. He was waiting for her. 

She turned around to look at Hvit—the Etathesian giving her a frightened look. 

Those Southern buggers worry too much.

Before entering, she touched her chest, making sure to feel the chain wrapped around the little locket—she’d grown accustomed to having it around her neck at all times. It was a thing of sacredness now; something she couldn’t afford to live without.

‘This way…my…lady.’ The man said, guiding her through the darkness with a torch not so much brighter than the dark things around here. The man waiting at the entrance always had the creepiest look—as if he were a criminal by night. She always kept her eyes twice-opened whenever alone with this man. 

And then she saw the familiar sight—a round table with four old men sitting by it. A nice, savoury dinner was accompanied by a candle lit touch—the leaky place upscaled by the pretentiousness of dinner. 

‘Dinner is served, my, my lady!’ The Innkeeper said, offering her a seat on the table. Three other figures appeared from the shadows, startling her as they materialised in the darkness. 

‘And, and, and…with the, uh…with the dinner, we have a…a job for you.’ He said, giving her a strange, wicked smile.

‘You’ve had my men running around doing your errands for weeks. When do I get a return in this?!’ She asked, nearing the border between calm and anger. All she had to do now was cross the bridge between the border. 

‘Yes…yes, but, but, this one’s for you, my lady. All I have to do is tell you what you have to do. The rest, well, you’ll, you’ll want to do it on your own.’  The Innkeeper clasped his hands tightly. He smiled and stared at her incessantly. Everyone around her waited to see how she was going to react. 

Something was definitely wrong. This was not normal business. 

And then it hit her—it her her like a boulder tumbling down a cliffside. It hit her like a collapsing pillar on a poor beggar. 

They took Isolde. 

She gritted her teeth—tightened her jaw. Her eyes widened and her skin reddened. 

‘Where…IS HE?!’ She said, intimidating as she could ever be. And yet everyone around her stayed calm as ever—The Innkeeper’s silk robe didn’t even move an inch.

‘He took a little trip…down South.’ One of his confederates said, with the faintest of smiles on his face. 

This cruel bastard! These bastards!

‘What have you done with Isolde?!’

‘Now, now, my lady, not Isolde, think of the Locket!’ The Innkeeper said, getting up and raising his hand, ‘You must understand what is important for you to maintain, my, my lady. You lose Isolde, you will be okay. You lose the Locket, however,’ he said, raising his eyebrows—face hopeful, ‘your life is ours to toy with. Well, to take away and send back to Krilin’s eye, mostly.’ 

Maintain your peace. Keep a level head—your eyes and ears will only hear the noise of this world. It’s your mind that will hear what you need it to hear. Your mind will see what you need to see. Control yourself… She thought of Zuruli’s words, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She didn’t let anything defeat her—not the words she heard, not the damp air of the darkness, not the darkness itself. 

‘Is he alive?’ She asked, voice calm as a lake.

‘Yes, of course he is my lady.’ The Innkeeper said, making his way to her. He put his arm on her shoulder, staring her deep in her eyes, ‘my lady, we all serve a purpose here. A purpose deeper than you could ever, ever know. In, in fact it’s a purpose deeper than all of us could ever know. Who knows? Maybe it is out of some sick want of power that we do what we do, or to watch rulers crumble. Or perhaps just on the word of our prophesier. Whatever it is, we’re as much in the dark as you are, my lady. But you, just like the rest of us, must listen to The Ages. You must follow the path of your Locket. There is nothing nobler you can do as Lady of Loazer.’ 

She took a few deep breaths, remembering Zuruli’s words. 

Your mind will see what you need to see…

‘Where must I go?’ 

‘The Lands. Our company men will follow down with you and help you retrieve him. However, there is one catch.’ 

Oh my…

He continued, ‘You must retrieve another Locket. Take it and you will keep it. And you know what they say—anyone with three Lockets…takes my place!’ He said, on the border of laughing. 

Is he going to make me meet my brother? 

‘Who do I take the Locket from?’ She asked, keeping as much of a level head as she could.

‘Well…our company men will tell you. You will see, in due course, my lady. You will see.’

***

Chapter 67; Grandmother’s Words

/The Graveyard, Kenneth

The muddy grains from on top of her circular plaque rose into the air, shuddering and shaking furiously. they cleared to make way for a seamless shape; a shape whose hand grasped the air as if catching onto a cart that was leaving a breathless hell. She could swear she’d heard panting at that moment. 

Theren’s red, silk dress billowed with the rhythm of the wind—red ripples dancing to the blowing winds’ tunes. She stood, candid as ever, watching wiola set on the paradise horizon of her kingdom. The false horizon that showed her very own October lands to be something of grace. Instead, she was just the worst ruler in the history of a flawless kingdom, plummeting this beautiful thing she was rewarded with down the falling caves of Folhom.

And yet, after all the terrible, fruitless things that could happen, at least she had her grandmother’s company. At least she was the only person in the entire world who spoke to a dead soul. A soul she knew she could never live without. 

‘Grandmother…’ she called out, in a voice bleak as the grey autumn canvas reigning above her kingdom’s skies.

‘Why? Why do you fret, Theren the Crocodile?’ She asked, in a voice running away from its very own essence—a voice being pulled into the ravenous shadows of escaping screams. 

Tears seeped from her eyelids—she was beginning to have a terrible, terrible time keeping herself together.

The conduct of a ruler? Bah! She thought, wiping away.

‘I can’t…keep doing this! I can’t, grandmother, I can’t! I’m losing everything. Even Isolde…from the grip of my own hand! He’s gone!’

‘Why do you fret, Theren?! Don’t be a pussy, float down!’

A feeling of sadness turned swiftly into one of confusion, as her eyebrows arched.

‘Float down?’ Her voice still whimpered.

‘Go where you must, my lady. You know your doubt is a road that leads to nowhere. Take the other road. Down the road you go, Theren Rolan.’

Down the road…down the… She figured it out. She needed not to go down a road—she needed to go down: down South.

‘And you are sure, grandmother? This is what I must do?’

‘Ha! Krilin’s own fool you are. Dead souls speak no lies.’ 

She pursed her lips, nodding to understand what she must do, yet riddled with doubt nonetheless. 

‘I understand, grandmother. I know what I must do.’

‘Then why do you sit here talking to a piece of stone? MOVE! Protect what you love! Seek what you lost, and in time, you will be the glue to hold it all together, and by Krilin’s own grave, I swear it!’

*** 

Chapter 68; A Step More

/The Banished Lands

The snow was his awakening. The Lands his temple. The brisk walking and running across the vast emptiness of the snowy blizzards was the effort he never put in all the years he was alive. But he was never really alive—now he was. Now…he had purpose. 

Strapped with rough leather boots, and a thick, but light furry overwear, Lothar Rolan raced through the snow laden grounds, almost at par with Kovacs on her running time. Isitril, another man of The Ages, followed a few feet behind, racing to try and catch up. Huts and homes, prisons and compounds, poles and wooden fences ran behind the three of them as they all raced towards Kovacs’ little green shack. 

He began panting, feeling tired and infuriated at being a few inches behind her. Instead of looking forward, he felt a constant urge to turn his head towards her, seeing every step of hers as she made her way towards the cabin. 

A little prickly thing touched the end of his toe, and with sudden lurch, he felt his foot jolt backwards, his body following soon after. His knee hit the soft bedding of the snow, and his face landed in the cold misery of failure. Once again, the snow. He felt yanked back into the sullen feeling of defeat he was so used to with his brothers. Oh, his brothers. 

Must not let my mind be filled with filth…

‘You’re too fekhin slow, Lothar.’ Kovacs said, offering him a hand up. He lay flat on his back, drinking wiola’s shining spotlight. She threw a water-skin on his chest. He acted quickly to grab it, uncapping it and sipping as furious as a horse running a race.

‘What? So tired already? Perhaps it’s because you spent all your energy on that stupid punk girl you’ve been seeing.’

‘Why?’ Lothar asked, gasping for breath, ‘It is cause you’re getting jealous?’ 

Her eyebrows halted, as she raised a hand on him, dropping one even harder. He knew he’d feel something red and throbbing later in the day. Somewhere around his…back region, this time.

‘Got the lower back well, did you Kovacs? Tirette usually covers that for me.’ He said, rolling around in the snow as he lay sunbathing.The beautiful feeling of being covered in the heat of wiola was something else. The heat of a slap, however, was another kind of “something else”. 

‘Want another red spot on your back? Or perhaps I can take your locket back?’

‘No…no, that’s quite alright, Kovacs. I have that covered.’

‘Well you better. You know what happens if you don’t.’ 

‘And you also know what happens if I get three of ‘em. I become The Innkeeper.’ 

‘Ah, well, tough luck that no one with a locket will ever allow you to take one.’ 

‘I don’t need permission. I’ll just take it. I mean, you’ve seen the way I fight. Especially in these last few weeks I’ve been here.’ 

‘A few weeks rolling around on the floor like a pig isn’t going to do all that much good for you, Lothar Rolan.’ She said, standing with her hip out. She wore a ridiculous, tight leather outfit, laced up from the front, flexible and visible from the back. He couldn’t help but keep his eyes on her. 

‘Get your dirty lord eyes off my arse, Lothar.’ She said, walking away in her tight leather spandex. He smiled faintly and rushed to get up, trailing behind her. Isitril followed behind, walking with all the supplies strapped onto a laced leather pouch slung across his shoulders. 

‘I’ll give you this, lord. You’re getting better faster than most.’ 

‘Only to know what The Ages of Wood is.’ 

‘Ah…well, that’s a long time coming. Don’t get all that happy.’

A few hours later, Kovacs and him were in her little shack, warming up by the fire, both of them drinking a cup of tea. Lothar was still not accustomed to the cold, and so he wrapped him self in a large fur cover.

‘Got a job for you.’ She said, hanging a full chicken over the fire.

‘A job? What do you mean?’ 

‘We’ve got a newcomer. I need you to beat him into shape.’ 

‘A newcomer?’

‘Yeah, someone you know.’ 

He edged over the bed, leaning forward in curiosity.

‘Who?!’ 

‘Eh, just an old pal of someone you know, m’ro.’ 

He frowned; he had no idea who she was talking about, but was anxious to wait and see nonetheless.

‘Perhaps I’ll be having some company apart from you then.’ He said, turning towards her and smiling. She gave him a very dry look, hands and face still, until she suddenly put her cup down and climbed on top of him. 

‘Ha!’ He started laughing, as she struggled to pin him down on the bed. She moved her hands around, gripping his wrists and struggling to overpower him. 

‘I’ve got you!’ She screamed, twisting and turning around as he tried to hold himself up. But, with a swift kick to the gut, she gassed him out and pinned him down onto the bed. He was panting, smiling as he looked into her eyes. He could feel their bodies touching—a warmth far more satisfying than the fire besides the bed. He was so close to her—he could feel the passion within him. 

‘Alright, Lothar, that’s enough. Don’t got my leather on right now either.’ 

‘Your leather…I like that one.’ 

She turned towards him, wincing in disgust, ‘You’re a filthy man, you know that? Filthy, I tell ye!’ 

He couldn’t tell if she was genuinely upset or not, but he could see a faint smile cracking into her visage a second later. 

Wow…she’s amazing. 

A few hours later, he found himself on the small, makeshift battleground with one of the teachers she’d set him up with. He was a fairly old man, grey beard and tired eyes, but his grip on the sword was something he’d never seen before. 

‘The Ages?’ Lothar asked him, handling his sword left and right. He looked up at the sky—snowfalls keen to disrupt the shining spotlights falling from above. 

‘Why do you keep asking me that? I am just a trainer of swords. A trainer of the art of battling. I do not know “Ages”.’

‘But you “know” the sword, yeah?’ He asked, smirking. He was confident and ready to defeat him. 

‘Being all too confident won’t help you, Lothar, you must master the art of—’

Lothar charged at him with a swing of his training sword falling from up to down. He was furious—energised and ready to strike, whether it meant defeating a master of swords or not. The snow wouldn’t stop him, his stamina wouldn’t stop him; nothing would. 

But his storming blow felt a parry of the tides—an ocean of water hit him, the bang vibrating up to his hands, arms, and his entire body. The trainer’s sword clanged into his, as he got pushed back by the thew of the blow. It was too much to withstand, but not enough to stop him. He took a second, moving back to regain his presence, and then he struck once more. Clashing swords with the trainer, he quickly moved back and parried once more, and once more. The two of them went at it, Lothar clearly stronger than the old man, yet the old man had technique on his side. He was able to manoeuvre his way through the fight, slashing swords intricately, creating a balance. That was until Lothar’s kick. 

Refusing to step down, he raised his legs and drove the peg into the trainer with the hammer of a foot—he drove the old man down into the ground with one strong, lasting kick. The old man grunted, rolling on the floor and struggling to deal with the sheer power of the kick. A smile crept onto Lothar’s face—within weeks he had so much more strength than before, so much more energy. 

‘Getting slow, old man?’ He asked.

‘No…no…but you’re getting better.’ 

That’s what I want to hear.

He felt ready to take on any challenge—any challenge at all. And he knew what his challenge was. Vengeance. Revenge. Cold, slitting death for the ones that sent him here. The ones that wanted him away from his family. Even six weeks here was enough to change him. The cold, unwelcoming blizzards were now becoming the template that was going to shape him into a rougher, tougher, meaner man. Someone who wasn’t a spoilt brat who took everything for granted. So above all, he was grateful. Grateful to his hateful sister and his hateful family for sending him here, even though they had no idea what he’d become. And that was exactly why he wanted to kill her. Because she didn’t know what she was buying into—she was just banishing him away, forever until nothing else mattered. 

Try banishing me, Theren, and you’ll end up with a killer on the loose.

***

Chapter 69; Something Unlikely

/En Route - The Banished Lands

Theren Rolan was en route to The Banished Lands. She was accompanied by fifty Crocs, following front and behind, and in her own wagon was her, Hvit, Pires, Connor, and Dek. Muriel stayed back in the kingdom to manage inter-dimensional affairs on her request. Because of the terrible fortunes he’d suffered with Rean, she had promoted him from spy cover-lord to the head governor of inter-dimensional affairs, after he had asked her at her father’s funeral. She trusted the kingdom in his hands, well and true.

‘Do you think we’ll find him?’ Hvit asked. ‘I mean, who told you all of this, my lady? How do you know Isolde was kidnapped and brought to The Banished Lands.’ 

‘I received threats. I have heard from those that I know?’ She said, bland and unresponsive. She didn’t want to raise any questions about The Ages, and instead wanted to keep as silent as she could. The only thing which filled the gaps of awkward silence was the rickety sound of worn wood and wheels on rugged roads.

She tried to keep her secret as concealed as possible, but from one spy to another, she saw that Hvit could tell she was hiding something. 

‘Who, my lady?’ He asked. The three other spies turned towards, him, outraged at how he could question his kingdom’s Lady so much.

She frowned back at him, ‘And that’s the pressing issue? Our main spy is missing! And that is what meanders in your mind?’

He turned to see the faces of the other three—each of them one of disapproval, but he couldn’t care less, it seemed. 

‘But, my lady, what if it’s false? That this person is taking you on a trip somewhere dangerous on their own motives? What if you’re being flanked, my lady? Has that thought not occurred to you.’ 

You stupid bastard! Don’t question me…was she felt like saying. Instead, she came up with, ‘That’s enough. We travel South, regardless of the possibility of my information being false.’
She could see that Hvit was still uncomfortable with it—he was one of the only spies of hers who wouldn’t conform and listen instantly. Perhaps it was for the better—a radical minded man on her team shouldn’t have to be a bad thing. After all, he’d proven to be rather useful.

Okay…perhaps I should just shut him up.

‘Alright, I’ll tell you. But from one spy to another, Hvit, and all of you, this information goes no where. Your own safety’s at risk.’ She softened her tone to the point where it was fainter than a cat’s whiskers, ‘our own carriage driver could be one of them.’ 

‘One of who?’ Hvit asked, loud and boisterous. Theren grimaced and slapped him across the face faster than he could have the chance to react. 

‘Silence!’ She screamed in a whisper. Once everything was calm, she carried on, ‘The Ages of Wood.’ She said, soft as a forest at night.

‘What?’ Dek asked, confused out of his mind. He was often like that, the Earthian, bringing in a weapon from Earth. 

Fool, he is!

‘They’re a group, a gigantic group of people and spies, like us, littered across Loazer. They’re bigger than the monarchy in Kenneth,’ she said, visage in a black, serious marble slate, ‘they are…so big, so massive, that a word over here could be enough to end my entire family.’ 

The spies each turned towards each other, each of them visibly shocked. 

‘They’re a group led by a prophesier. We don’t know who it is, but on the face of The Ages is a man they call “The Innkeeper”. He chooses monarchs, soldiers, commoners—all from the kingdom to come and join him in alliance. He has a network of spies…everywhere. For all I know, one of you could be in The Ages.’ 

What if…no. They can’t be. They’re loyal to me like Krilin.

‘And you know this how?’ Hvit asked, keeping his tone low.

‘I am one of them.’ She said, clean and clear. Honest and brutal. Final and binding.

She reached into her leather vest, touching her chest as she grabbed the little glowing green locket that she had. She opened it in front of the four of them to show them the glowing gem within. On top of it was inscribed a hand holding up a small log of wood. 

‘The Ages of Wood.’ She said, pointing to the log, whispering as soft as she could. ‘They’re extremely rich and extremely powerful. They have spies all over the country.’ 

‘They could be lying.’ Hvit said, raising his eyebrows.

‘No. No they’re not.’ 

‘Bullshit! How would you know?’ 

‘Because I have seen it. An army of tens of thousands…stretching across the darkest caves underneath our very roads. Our very soldiers—Crocodiles and cover-lords—are all a part of it.’

Each and every single pair of eyes were wide and open—each and every single jaw was dropped in awe and worry. Each and every pulse was beating faster than the horses hooves hit the ground. 

‘So now, before you ask me once again, Hvit, we must go and obtain Isolde from The Lands, else you wish to have the knife fall from above right on your neck.’ 

Pure silence followed and nothing else. No one could challenge the secret she’d just told them. Perhaps now she realised that she wasn’t particularly the best spy in the world.

***

Chapter 70; Our Company Is Here

/The Banished Lands

‘You cannot let these things frazzle you; these royalties, lineages, kingdoms—bah! None of this matters,’ said Kovacs, walking in circles around him, ‘what truly does matter…is that you know who you are, you know where you are, and you know why you are there.’ 

She had her hands behind her back, a bludgeon clubbed with. The two of them sat out in the deserted, ice cold landscape of endless snows. They’d found an edged mountain, guards nowhere to be seen, and went to the cliffside all alone for one of Kovacs’ “most important lessons”. 

‘If you let your personal want get to you, you will never be able to finish what needs to be done. I’ve stayed here eighteen years of my life, ever since I was a little child…tucked away in the corner of the world with all the forgotten people of the world. Yet I know that I wouldn’t trade this life in for any, for I’m completing a mission that’s to be done for the sake of this world. Know your mission, know its importance, and never doubt its completion for the sake of yourself.’

‘But—’

Within a second of him saying a single word, she swung the bludgeon at his gut, whacking him as hard as the icy cold snowstorm thrashing across the lands. He let out a little grunt—as contained as he could keep it—but it didn’t take him more than a few moments to ignore the impact of the hit. Over the last month and a half, he’d been whacked and bruised, beaten boneless, run over like dead meat on the road—he’d felt it all, and yet all he really felt was energy, readiness. Something he never truly felt back in Loazer. Just thinking about it made a little smile creep onto his face.

‘Oh, so you smile when I whack you?’ Kovacs asked, frowning in disgust. She raised her bludgeon and whacked him once more, phased at how lightly he took it. A few seconds later, a wider smile erupted on his face.

‘I’m sorry, I…I can’t help it!’ He said. He didn’t know what was coming over him, but he couldn’t even feel the pain with each hit of the bludgeon. That made him smile.

‘Good…I’m impressed. You withstand of the pain. It takes a little while longer to make rocks out of blobs like you.’ 

‘Blob?! I was never a blob. I had rather good—’

He heard footsteps approaching from behind—tense and stomping ones on the deep snow. They were running—running with a sense of urgency. He heard Kovacs walk towards them, hers just as urgent, as he finally turned around to see what was going on. It was Isitril, he had a look of concern on his face. 

‘He’s here.’ He said. Without a second’s notice, Kovacs turned and ran towards Lothar, lifting him off his chair and dragging him along in the horse race. The three of them ran through the empty, snow-laden mountainous terrain, making way downhill towards her hut. 

‘Wha—what is it?’ He asked, panting as the three of them continued running downwards.

‘He’s here. Your mission’s here.’ 

Who could it be?

About a forty-eighth passed before they were able to make their way down, and right at the foothills, they were met by some company. Five or six men, dressed in black rags, their faces covered in similar clothing, drove a cart driven by two horses. They surrounded the edges of the carts, sitting outside on the leverages, and two horse riders brought the cart upto speed. 

‘We’ve got him here for you, Kovacs.’

‘Good…perfect.’ She said, eyeing the cart and looking through the little holes between the wood. She took slow footsteps towards it, waiting to hear sounds from inside, but nothing appeared. 

She went round the back, opening up the door of the wagon. 

‘It’s him.’

She reached inside, grabbing a hand and yanking him out onto the cold, hard icy floor. And that was a face that seemed familiar to him. He had long, dark hair, and a rather muscular, commander-like build. He had sharp eyes and a grave face. Lothar knew who that was. He’d seen him before. He’d seen him at Altheas’s hut and he’d seen him besides Theren at The Bremingade. That was her head spy. That was Isolde Ganders of Unith. 

Finally, an opportunity…

Lothar, wearing a villainous smile and all, walked over to him. The commander was lying on the floor—completely sapped of energy, just as he was when he first came here. It seemed like he’d barely been fed any food on his journey here. He seemed exhausted and drained like a sewage mouse without a place to go. 

This…now this is going to be fun.

Isolde turned over to his back, seemingly lifeless, until his eyes set on Lothar. He knew that look. He’d been a spy for too long to not recognise that look on Lothar’s face. He knew where his heart truly lay.

‘You…did this.’ Isolde said, grunting and rolling like a pig in his filth. 

So much for being a commander.

‘You…traitor!’ He screamed, spewing saliva all over the ground—he’d lost control of his muscles in the agony of his tiredness.

‘Come. I’ll tell you your mission.’ Kovacs said, strapping on a leather laced pack on her back. The two of them went back towards the green hut, Isitril and the rest carrying Isolde as well.

***

Chapter 71; The Challenge

/The Capitol, Kaandor, Layonas

‘Hol’ on, wait, wait, wait. Adi. Question.’ Brompen said as the five of them proceeded down the Capitol roads.

‘What is it?’ He asked, drooping his shoulders in irritation, turning his face towards Brompen to give him a flowing tide of exasperation.

Brompen frowned, turning his head to give a look to the rest of the company, ‘Why we here?’

‘What?’ Nathanial asked, stepping up from the background.

‘Why…are we…here?’ He asked, hands out in display and all. He seemed rather perplexed and…pissed off, for lack of better words.

‘Well whatever reason there may be, Adi saw it in his visions, and he knows that there’s important cause for all of us to be here.’ Nathanial said, feeding a part of frustration within himself. He couldn’t bare to think of the entire trip as a wasted effort.

‘Oh…The Hunter thinks there’s a reason, so there must…be a reason.’ Brompen said, mocking Nathanial’s tone to the core of his words. Nathanial gritted his teeth as Adi watched from behind, all of them walking towards the King’s Quarters.

‘Hear me, aye, hear me, assassin. We are not here without cause. For what the cause is we may not know, but I wouldn’t have left my family in such a dire state to come here if I didn’t know that he,’ he said, pointing at Adi, ‘had such important business to attend to with The Council. So before you overcome the lack of better words in your speech, I suggest you better watch your footsteps before I dismantle them.’

‘Oh…The Hunter threatened me! Oh, I feel so scared!’ He responded, laughing coarsely—the trouble of being a lifelong smoker. Brompen tugged on the strap of his leather sack and walked on ahead of the rest of them, taking a few quicker strides.

‘It’s alright. Control, m’ro. He like that.’ Biv said, catching up to Nathanial and telling him to calm down.

But he has a point…Brompen has a point…why are we here? No, no, don’t think that! Are you stupid? You know exactly why you’re here. It’s just that the rest of them don’t. Adi thought, calming himself with reassuring thoughts. He knew why he was made to go on this venture. He knew what the guiding light within him wanted to do. It was not for no reason that weeks of journeying and Biv’s training for Wielding were for nothing. He knew exactly what he had to accomplish, and yet he couldn’t tell the rest of them. It was more of an inexplicable mission—something of instinct that he knew he had to do, but something that couldn’t be said in the form of words.

Whatever it was, he felt a raging surge of storming bulls within him—running and dashing like a flooding sea over a lowland. He wanted to scream and shout and leak black traces everywhere he went. He wanted to fly into the sky and crash down into the King’s Quarters. He wanted to be free and full of energy, ready to boulder down into anything that dared to stop him. And the best part? He knew he could do it all.

‘He takes too much tension.’ Adi said, speaking to Grace separately. The beautiful woman wore a soft, silk dress, light red, not drooping too low to drag on the ground—it was just the right fit. She shone like wiola’s own spotlight. Her fair skin and big eyes made her visage glow, and her beautiful frame outshined all as she walked. She was a true marvel of nature—a jaw dropping sight for Adi, more than anything. 

‘I know…’ she said, sighing and shaking her head, ‘How can he not trust you? Of course you know what you’re doing.’ She said, smiling loud and wide, edge to edge, gripping Adi’s arm as the two of them walked.

‘Walkman, come here.’ The Hunter said, pulling him aside from the rest of them. He could see a nervous look on Nathanial’s face; a look that seemed to be scared that all of this was a mistake, a wasted opportunity.

‘We meet the Council, as soon as we reach the King’s Quarters, and then you say what you have to, right?’ 

How can he be so disorganised? Adi thought, He was next in line for Loazer and the Chaimberlain of Gr’Erhin. 

‘You must bargain with him as well, my lord. Your kingdom, your family! Everything that he’s taken!’

‘What can a lone man do, m’ro? There’s nothing I can do that could change his mind.’ 

He looked down at the wet floor—it’d just rained so there was a moist feel to the entire grey city.

‘Yeah…I get what you mean.’

‘But you have a plan right? You know what you must say, yes? Because all we knew was that you saw a vision and, and—’

‘Nathanial,’ Adi said, resting a firm hand on his shoulder, ‘calm down. Everything is going exactly how it should. Everything is right on track, and everything is where it should be. I know what I have to do, so I do not understand why you fret. It will be done, whatever it is.’ 

‘So you’ll just stand in front of The Council and do it?’ 

‘Yes. Whatever I must do. There is a great cause as to why all of you are here, or else I wouldn’t have wasted any of your time like this. But, it is crucial for you all to be here.’ Adi said, shifting around uncomfortably.

Looking ahead, visibly unsure, Nathanial nodded, ‘You’re the strongest prophesier our kingdoms and planets have ever seen. Connected in the core of The Fibre. I’ll trust your word on this, m’ro, like I did before, I will do once again.’ 

‘Thank you, my lord. Whatever it is, it is crucial that we be here. I’m sure you understand.’ 

Reclusive, Nathanial nodded his head and walked back on ahead in front of the rest of them. There was a certain sense of regret and an unassured look on his face, as if he’d realised a huge mistake he’d made just now.

***

The cold, dampness of the entire city flooded his veins. The grey covering of the horizon dulled his spirits. He felt sick from the inside, nervous pulses beating in his body just as prominently as leaking black mists of Wielding light and energy. The town’s colourlessness gave him a sick, drowsy feeling—Ulke was twice of this city and more in terms of life and colour. And the worst part was the massive, sky-rising black tower that stood in front of him, guarded by two enormous layers of brick and steel walls. “Snakes”, as the soldiers of Kaandor were called, stood at posts all along the entire circular outer wall. Apparently they stood the same way at the inside wall as well. The company of travellers walked right up to the main gate—Adi’s confidence that had been built up over the last few months felt shrivelled up inside a cave—something felt utterly wrong about their approach. 

Flash.

No thousand trains, no thousand lights. Just a land covered in white mist. A land so familiar to him that it felt more home to him than any place he’d ever stepped foot on. 

‘Don’t. Adi, don’t! Turn around.’ A familiar voice said—a voice he hadn’t heard in a while. Olivia. But not the Olivia he’d been seeing recently; it was the little girl. She was tugging at his sleeve, begging him not to go.

‘I can’t stop the future, but please! Adi! don’t go. Turn around. Trust me!’ She begged, tears welling in her eyes; it seemed like she’d been crying for a while. The bags under her eyes were deep and her eyes were blood red.

‘But you know what I saw in Layon’s palace. You know I have to go. I have to kill Koralisar.’ 

She let out a distinct cry, turning her head the other way and sobbing. She took a few minutes, whimpering and clearing the tears off her eyes. She had a deep look of regret on her face. The mist floated around the land, moving softly and peacefully. There were no dream invaders—the land was utterly calm. She slowly turned her gaze towards him, looking at him as if it was a moment of finality. As if there was no going back. 

‘Is this what you want?’ She asked in a soft…trembling, yet incredibly calm voice. It felt as if his answer was going to be world turning. It felt as if he knew what she wanted him to say, yet he would say what he truly wanted. What he needed to do. 

‘Yes.’

She gave him a long, everlasting gaze—a gaze so deep into his eyes, a sorrowful gaze that spoke to his soul. A gaze so true and genuine, yet a gaze so lost and melancholic. A gaze so final, that the mist slowly rose off the ground, covering her body in white clouds. It washed over her, bathing her in a soft, silky robe of invisibility. And just like that—she vanished. She was gone from his dream world. Slowly, the mist began blowing through the entire land, rising and covering everything in front of his eyes—draining away from sight. A tumbling, whistling, and slow sound of wind moving away from him entered his ears, and as the mist faded, reality came back into his eyes. He once again stared upon the ginormous gates outside the King’s Quarters. Only this time, he was shaken to his roots. 

A Snake walked up to the company, longsword sheathed at his belt, shield strapped to his back, and a slithering snake engraved on his chest plate. He was a big man, more than six feet five inches, and had a strong, muscular build. Nathanial walked right up to him, immediately challenging him physically. 

‘Are we expecting…royal company?’ The Snake said, staring The Hunter up and down. Clearly, he recognised him. 

‘Ask your royal company, young and stupid as they are.’ 

‘Careful with your words around here, sire. We’re not quite in your country anymore.’

‘All the guards here as cheeky as you? Makes up for the lack of your fighting skills?’ 

The Snake gave him a cheek-to-cheek smile, turning and allowing entry. He turned and whispered something into his ear, patting his shoulder. 

Nathanial walked up to Adi, ‘Now would be a good time to start leaking black.’ 

Adi closed his eyes, inhaling sharply and letting out a burst of energy from within. Black, coalescent mist formed around his entire visage. His eyes turned a dark black, and he walked on with the rest of them, catching the eyes of every single Snake. A sudden murmur broke through every single man in the battalion. They all seemed utterly shocked to see a Dark Wielder. Adi simply turned around, giving them a smirk. 

‘Don’t get too confident, Adi. Whatever plan is, do not challenge him, m’ro! He too strong for you, m’ro.’ Biv said, urging him to calm himself. 

‘Yeah, I won’t. Calm down.’ 

‘Follow me, my lords and lady.’ He led them around the first wall, never actually leading them in through the gates. 

Nathanial walked up to the Snake guiding them, a confused look on his face, ‘What? Why did you open the gate?’ 

He shrugged his shoulders, ‘Eh, felt like. Bothered you, innit?’

‘Why aren’t we going to the King’s Quarters?’ 

‘Not gonna go there if the King ain’t there, will ya?’ 

Nathanial turned around to look at Adi, both of them equally confused. Eventually they all just continued following the Snake, leading both front and behind. They knew that the Snakes wouldn’t do anything—if they did, they’d be risking a war with Gr’Erhin as well as Loazer.

They were being led through the outer edges of the city. All the parts of the town sloped downhill from here, right onto the main shore. 

‘Did you see us in the King’s Quarters in your vision?’ Nathanial asked him, eagerly hunching over his shoulder.

‘No, well…I…I don’t know.’ 

Disappointed and grim, he turned back around and followed through. He was seemingly becoming more and more pessimistic and doubtful about the entire venture over the last few days—Adi could see it. He’d been seeing it for days. 

‘Where are you taking us?’ Adi asked, voice dusk as his dark glow. The Snake in front didn’t seem to mind the mist around his frame. 

‘The King.’ 

Eyes stern as ever, Adi walked right up to the head Snake, putting a hand on his shoulder. He jolted him backwards a few steps, startling the poor guard. The poor guard who readied his sword in an instant, tip of the blade at Adi’s throat. 

Pathetic if he thinks that’ll kill me.

All the surrounding Snakes unsheathed their swords as well, encircling the company in a sharp, pointed sphere of swords.

‘Where…are we going?’ Adi asked—commanded an answer—firm and strong, raw and powerful. 

The Snake looked at him, breathing heavily as he had been pushed, doubtful whether he should answer or not. He turned towards his Snakes, telling them to guard down, and then turned to Adi. 

‘The Pitfalls. It’s a place of meeting just outside the walls. Royal company, and what not.’ 

‘What is it, like a pit?’

‘An indoor hall.’ 

The fekh is it called The Pitfalls for, then? Dumb Kaandorians. He thought, shaking his head as peace was made and they made their way through. At a turning by the gate, they finally saw a large, black building. It wasn’t too tall, but it was regal as ever. Black marble slate ran the course of all the outer walls, but there were a lot of windows on the walls. 

‘In through the gate, sires and lady.’ The Snake said. The entire front wall of the rectangular building was a clean black—no designs, no words, nothing, besides a few silver knobs going up and down the gate. As it opened, Adi peered through his own blackened eyes, and found exactly what he was looking for. A line of thirteen men, curved slightly, all staring back at him. The Council of Kaandor, in the flesh. And at the helm of it was a tall, straight-backed man wearing a green vest with a snake emblazoned on it. In his hand he held a staff with the tip of a snake’s tongue slithering off the top. His slicked back hair made him look truly regal in the green outfit—the darkness of it making his visage stand out. He had sharp eyes, and a long nose, but rather capturing looks. He was not too muscular—more lanky than anything, but he had a great presence at the helm of it. Koralisar Rathor was one to see. On his right was a blue haired man—a Weemlander, as they were called—in Altheas Tansha. Adi could see a chain hanging off his back; he’d heard a lot about his famous glowing blue weapon. 

‘Please, please! Come on in!’ Koralisar said, smirking away to the smart ass’ glory. While he was a well conducted, sharp looking man, the moment a word came out of his mouth, Adi tensed up, shrivelling in disgust. This was a man who butchered his line—unworthy of the family inheritance, unworthy of the title of King.

The company of five walked into the halls, only to be greeted by the unwelcoming touch of cold, damp air flowing through the inside of The Pitfalls. No fires blew through this hall, just the cold touch of resentful rivals. 

‘Right, so which one of you is Adi Walk…’ The young man’s eyes lay set on Adi’s wispy frame, as black energy erupted across his entire body. He felt fierce, determined to kill him any way that he could. He knew that he had to do it, no choices now, even if it meant thirteen other men would stand in his way.

As Adi walked into the hall, whispers and shocked expressions erupted across the mouths of The Council. And a calm, composed Koralisar turned into something of anger and misconduct. He breathed out loud, turning red from the face and gritting his teeth. He tightened the grip on his staff, readying it by holding it up. Every man in the room now had a hand on their own sheaths. The four of them lined up behind Adi’s side, providing him support on each side as he took slow, draggingly slow strides towards the “King”.

‘You…I…How?!’ Koralisar said, screaming at the top of his lungs. 

‘Who the fekh are you?!’ 

Adi smiled, feeling confident as ever—he was the man of the moment. This was his moment. His mission to finish. His kill to claim. 

‘Confused? Your prophesier didn’t tell you?’ Adi asked, taking slow, excruciating footsteps up to him. 

‘Prod on!’ Nathanial whispered, begging him to move ahead. Each and every single set of eyes in the room was on Adi, on him as he moved with a stride of confidence towards the leader in the room. 

‘You’re the Dark Wiel…my father…I—’ Koralisar shifted his eyes, staring at his counsellors who were just as confused. None of them could have suspected this. 

Flash.

The Dark Wielder’s temple was alight with a thousand trains, as Adi found a calling in the voice of Enosar. In the voice of Layon. In the voices of the forefathers of The Dark Wielder. 

‘Do what you must. Let your passions guide you.’ A voice of thousands whispered into his ears. The creature stood in front of him, riding off into the flashing lights, and beside him the strict, stern, regal form of Layon Rathor, standing tall and proud, faced Adi. 

‘Do what you must,’ thousands of voices said in cohesion, as Layon’s lips moved to the words, ‘let your passions guide you.’  

Flash. 

He was jolted back into reality, stopped in his footsteps. All the men in the hall continued staring at him, waiting for him to take his next step. 

‘You all may know…who I am. Yet you may not know…why I, a simple, sullen man of earth, am The Dark Wielder, and your “King”…is nothing more than a grim boy who stands tall at the helm of your table, simply crippled on the inside. An unjust birth can never be given such a great responsibility.’

‘Adi, no!’ Nathanial screamed from behind, ‘Don’t do this.’ He could see the leaking black light getting aggressive as they began moving around his frame more and more rapidly. He was charged up on Dark Light, and Nathanial’d been seeing how aggressive Adi would get whenever the Light pushed him to his limits. 

‘Dare you doubt my name as King! Dare you doubt my name as a Rathor!’ The spoilt brat at the head of the Council screamed. He picked up his staff and raised it, pointing at Adi. A vicer, as he’d come to learn, stood right by his side. Each and every Snake in the room had their swords raised, all pointed close to Adi, yet nothing stopped him from approaching Koralisar. Biv could do nothing, Brompen could do nothing—none of them could stop him now. None of them knew what he was about to do, but once he would begin, there’d be no one to stop him. He could fly high into the air in euphoria once he’d complete his task, yet there was only one problem; he had to kill a man. Another Wielder of sorts.

‘Your name as King, ha!’ Adi laughed, looking around at the Council, all with tense faces, ‘Oh, even in your father’s eyes you’re a disappointment. Enosar himself told me, my friend, that you’re the son he never quite asked for.’ 

Cheeky but brutal.

‘ENOUGHHH!’ The man at the helm screamed, raising his staff and shooting a jolt of Black Light towards Adi. It was a short beam which fired quick—like a bullet, traversing through the air with near invisibility, right towards Adi’s face. But he could see it. He could see it move through the air, and all he did was raise his hand in the line of the beam. The Black Light struck against his palm, pushing him back feet and nearly knocking him off his feet. Biv ran upto his side, Brompen to the other, all three facing the main man. Nathanial stood behind, guarding Grace. 

‘Why you do this Adi? You fekhin crazy?!’ Biv screamed from his side, readying himself in a stance, hands out and furious; ready to kill anything that came his way. On his other side, Brompen held a strange thing—a rope and two balls on each end. 

Adi readied his hands, furiously leaking Black Light, and he gritted his teeth. The anger, the emotion, the need for death was higher in him than it ever was. He needed to kill someone. He needed to feel the anguish of a life struggling to escape the axe. But he would hold its feet down—he wouldn’t let it escape, so that the axe could fall right on its neck. 

‘GAHHH!’ He screamed, pulling his right hand back and jolting a large, truculent, fuming ball of Black Light towards Koralisar. The man couldn’t react fast enough, raising his staff but unable to dodge the blow. The Light pierced through his gut—a splash of blood squirting everywhere—as it knocked him back several feet. He flew in the air like a dead piece of meat, lifelessly thrashing against the wall and falling on the floor. And before Adi could move an inch, he felt a shield of white, of blinding white, pass through his entire body. His vision blinded, he moved forwards without any sense of direction, only to get blown by a humongous fist smashing against his face and throwing him to the ground. He felt a blinding sensation of pain crush against every fabric of his body, a sharp, piercing layer wrapping his body up in thousands of pieces of prickly glass. On his right, he could hear Wielding light burst out of Biv’s palms—elegant explosions erupting all across the room. The moment his eyes opened, he saw Brompen toss one end of his ball-ended rope right at Koralisar’s feet. It caught a quick grip at his ankles, rapping around them so tenaciously as if the contraption had a life of its own. It tugged the false Dark Wielder by his legs, pulling him close to Brompen and right at his feet. His staff was displaced, somewhere far away from him, and so Brompen had a clear grip on him. He raised his fist, thwarting the false King on his face as hard as he could. Ten and more Snakes rushed right up to Brompen, swords up and swinging right at him. Adi quickly entered a stance, sending a flowing thunder of Black Light through the corner of the room, clearing all the Snakes out from Brompen’s field of view. He’d gotten the hand of Wielding, and he sure as hell liked it. The soldiers he’d pierced through with his Light were leaking blood—draining away like an opened faucet. Soon, the strength of Snakes had been reduced greatly. Koralisar was down on the ground, too weak to help himself up. 

‘This what you wanted?!’ Biv asked, watching his six, ‘To kill the great leaders of The Council? Cuz’ you not get gonna it, m’ro!’

He looked around the room—Enosar’s disappointment of a son was flushed, the rest of the men kicked back and defeated, he knew he was going to get what he was asked to get. 

‘Watch me.’ 

He walked over to Koralisar with slow, daunting footsteps. His boots sounded against the marble floor louder than anything in the entire room. Once again, chaos dismantled as all the eyes in the room shined their spotlights on him. He was still confused as to where the beam of White Light had hit him from, but it was the least of his concerns. What he needed to do was kill the false King that lay on the ground in front. The false king that rolled around on the ground like a hog rolling in its filth. 

‘You’re done, my friend.’ He said, raising his hands, inches away from him, and shooting a continuous flow of Black Light right into his head. He was dead. Koralisar was dead. So dead that white beams of a flailing soul shot out of his entire frame. Or…was that it? 

Adi leaned over, taking a closer look at his Black Light. It wasn’t even touching Koralisar. It was…bouncing off of him and shooting into the rest of the room. And right beneath his Light was a massive shield composed of solid white light, the same type he’d seen Biv yield. 

Where the hell is that coming from? He thought, strengthening the beam that he shot. But even when he did, all he felt was more resistance, until he finally gave up and got knocked back several feet, dazed with the blow and confused as to what was going on. He turned to his right—the front of his room—and saw a vicer approach him. He had a smug look on his face, and by his side was a commoner, scared and shrivelled up behind him. The vicer was leaking as well—wisps of white light curled around the tips of his fingers. He had a blinding white glow in his eyes, yet he managed to look humble all the same.

‘Trying something, friend?’ The vicer asked, calm without a drop of sweat on his forehead. He had a lean build, and of course, as Adi’d learned, he was far taller than the average man, being seven foot at least. He clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head. 

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you, friend.’ The vicer said, walking up to a stunned Adi. Biv was backing him, Wielding Light ready at the tip of his fingers. Too hurt to do anything, Adi stood back and watched Biv face the Wielding vicer himself, backed only by Brompen. Almost all the Snakes in the room had been slashed into by Adi’s Black Light, or cut down by Nathanial’s sword, but soon, more Snakes from the outside had rushed into the room, standing at defence around every corner of the hall. The Pitfall was destroyed with an explosive brew of swords and Wielders. 

With meek, weakened eyes, Adi watched on as Biv created a large white shield, sending it into the direction of the vicer—and he’d sure as hell put his all into it; he was sweating like crazy, screaming like mad, and sure-footed like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. Biv was screaming with all his might, putting every ounce of effort into his push. Adi smiled behind his mask of tiredness, knowing that this was it for the stupid, overconfident vicer. 

Not entirely.
With one swipe of his hand, the vicer sent Biv’s white barricade flying into the corner of the room—the solidified edges of his Light melting into little, dying sparks out of sight. Biv was drained of energy—he’d put his all into his last shot, and now he didn’t have a lot more in his tank. That was when Brompen stepped up. He swung his arm at the vicer, but not quite a punch. It was more of a…throw. In fact he threw something around his head. A little metallic ball that flew around the vicer’s head like something Adi’s never seen before. It blew up into sparks, stunning the tall, black brute. 

‘Shtyoopid fookhin vica.’ Brompen said, pulling out a large knife sharp as the edge of Wielded Light. He pulled the machete-like blade, sweeping it across edges. Yet, before he knew it, Brompen’s blade was stopped with a force of White Light so strong that the blade shattered into tiny pieces of sharp metal that flew around the entire hall. 

‘You all this weak?’ He asked, casual as ever.

‘And you.’ He said, walking over to Adi. He’d dismantled Brompen, dismantled Biv, and all he had to do was kill him, ‘You are too arrogant. Yeah, boy, we’ve seen you. Being The Dark Wielder and all…it…explains a lot.’ His voice was clear and loud even in the midst of all the chaos, his words tumbling over Adi with the weight of stone boulders, ‘My friend…Wielding is not everything. Leaking Black Light doesn’t make you King anymore than it does him,’ the vicer said, pointing to Koralisar, who still lay knocked cold on the floor, ‘doesn’t make you anymore powerful than your allies…cornered in the Pitfalls with a hundred swords at their necks. You cannot call yourself The Dark Wielder when you’ve barely learned anything, my friend.’ He picked Adi up by the shoulder, the man still weak and humbled by the vicer. 

Let your passions guide you…

A dying Light within him was now flickering alive at his fingertips. A coalescent fluid formed on top of his eyes—turning them a darker black than the vicer’s skin.

With a groaning, crumbling voice—weakened by the slashing force of White Light, he slowly garnered the courage to speak up, ‘You…can have…all the fekhin skills in the world,’ his voice smoothened, coarseness gone; his back straightened up, ‘but one thing…you’ll never have,’ he was fuelled up, charged with an untameable amount of energy, ‘…is passion.’ 

The vicer raised his hands, pulling himself into a fast stance, in anticipation of some great blow, Wielding a great white beam of Light towards Adi’s face. And yet the vicer was too slow to move. Fired up, tense, driven, angry, Adi’d balled up every single ounce of energy he had, and before he could think, he exploded into a humongous, shattering flame of Wielded Light, exploding across the entire hall. His thunderous wave went through every single presence in the room, each and every Snake knocked back onto the floor. Even he was stunned by what he just did…drained, in fact. Before he knew it, he could hear footsteps around the room, slow feet, unsteady feet, walking on the marble floor. Before thinking twice, he helped himself up, trying to get a quick scan of the room. Koralisar was still down on the floor, but the vicer was up, hands nearly ready to Wield another ray of light. But this time, Adi wasn’t even close enough to counter the vicer. He looked him deep in the eye for seconds—long, everlasting seconds. An infinite, depthless amount of time between life and death. For all the noise and screaming and crawling and groaning going on around them, the two of them found peace as they locked eyes. The vicer’s mind changed—his heart changed, and Adi could see it. He didn’t want to kill him anymore. The Wielder’s hands calmed, the glow of the light reducing. He shook his head for a second, turning the other way only to find a snapping metal hook wrap around his neck. 

‘Fekhin vica!’ Brompen cried from the side, swinging him wildly across the room. He used a strange device—something beyond Adi’s comprehension, and threw him to the other end. With everything he had, machete in one hand, he ran across the room, slashing down every Snake that came his way, and ran towards the vicer. On the other end of the room, Adi heard the glass of the thick window shattering into pieces, and beyond, there was a troop of Snakes which ran towards Brompen. That left Adi, Koralisar, and Biv in the centre of the room, surrounded by absolutely no one. 

‘Ugh…I need…I need to…kill him.’ He said, slowly crawling over towards Koralisar. He tried to look for the Black Light within, but couldn’t find anything. Nothing. Not a single piece of his strength. 

‘That’s enough. You’re done.’ He heard a coarse voice say, as a tall set of legs stood in front of his face. A mace suddenly came swinging down below him, glowing and sparkling with a blue stack of electric lines hovering and firing off within the metallic cage. It woke him up all of a sudden, as he jumped back at the fright. 

‘You’re done Adi Walkman. And he’s no better than you are either.’ The blue haired man said, pointing at Koralisar. ‘You did good.’ 

Was that all? Was that really all? Everything he’d seen in the dream lands, everything he’d seen in The Dark Wielder’s Palace; was it all for that? For the cold, sour taste of defeat? Was that his legacy? Pulled out of his cold, comfortable home back in Earth just to be defeated back into a cold coma of nothingness? No…certainly not. This couldn’t be the end, not even close to it. He wouldn’t take it—he wouldn’t accept this as the end. Right now, he lay on the cold slate of marble, drooling and drooping in his own blood and sour defeat—his allies blown away by more powerful Wielders as well. But tomorrow—tomorrow he wouldn’t accept this as the end. He wouldn’t put aside his new found pride just for the distinct taste of disappointment. 

No…I won’t have it, not for my death I won’t! 

But for now the thoughts in his mind felt far detached from the cold stone of reality. In reality, he lay rolling in his own defeat the same way as the false King with his false staff did. 

‘Take them away.’ Koralisar said. 

Koralisar said. 

With his vision half fading, Adi felt a slow, gruelling shock travel right into his heart, skipping a beat. 

‘Oh…my dear friend, I can only imagine what you saw, laying on the ground so defeated. Truly, I cannot imagine what you thought,’ the false King said, up and immaculately, ‘the things we want to see, well…we’ll see! Ha! But, you truly did good my friend. Almost had me killed there, you did.’ 

No…no! No! No! NOOOOOOO! He was dying with agony from the inside. Everything had failed—the least that had come to his satisfaction from all of this was the death of Koralisar—but even that was taken away from him. He felt unfulfilled, as if he’d let Layon Rathor down. He’d let Rys down. Everything he’d sought out to accomplish was completely overturned. Koralisar had reached Krilin’s Peak, and Adi was left in the cold, damp ditches beneath the Fang Mountains. 

‘Ah…my friend, how lost you must be feeling. How you must have felt as The Dark Wielder. Gifted this power by my very own father. Well, false King or not, I stand at your corpse now. A corpse, is it? Well…soon. Welcome death, my friend. Let the Black Light envelop you.’ He said, loud and clear for everyone in the Pitfalls to hear.
Adi Walkman’s eyes faded into a dreamy sleep, as he felt a cold, black blanket envelop his body. The warmth of the coldness took him to a place of comfort he’d never felt before. The last few months had been quite hectic, but finally…finally in several years, since everything had happened, everything back in Scotland, everything since he’d left earth, Adi Walkman finally got sound sleep. 

Sleep in the midst of a dusk that had no dawn after.

Chapter 73; The Galloping Horse

/The Pitfalls, Kaandor.

No…no…I—I can’t. I have family. Family in dire state! I need to get out of here…I need to…I need to…

The Hunter’s sword had swung tremendous amounts today. He’d even fought a crazy Weemlander from his past—Altheas Tansha—swinging a glowing blue mace of crazy sorts. He’d looked weak—injured, and so Nathanial was able to fend him off. But it was too much—too much risk for something he didn’t understand. From the onset of the journey, he’d trusted in Adi’s visions, but so close to the meeting, and he still hadn’t the least idea what all of it was for. Bloodshed against The Council? Waging a great war between the kingdoms?! It was something he could have no part in, and something for which he couldn’t risk his life. He had to be with his family; he had to be with them for everything that was going on. 

After Adi’s blast, all the soldiers—some still stunned—had just gotten up, trying to get a grip on their swords. Nathanial, still dazed, tried to find a window to make a fast exit. He looked to his left, and there was a large glass panel. Without a second thought, he ran towards the panel, swiftly swinging his sword across the glass. Luckily for him, his wild swing resulting in a shattering of glass. He turned around, one final time, to look at Adi Walkman, who lay on the floor, crawling over to Koralisar. 

See you soon, my good friend. He thought, regretful but sure of leaving. He then placed his hand on the panel, jumping above the windowsill and out the Pitfalls. He already heard a few marching footsteps behind him, and with one stroke, he slashed the throats of both the Snakes that were chasing him from within. He sunk below the sill as soon as he could, hoping that no other Snake in the room saw his exit, waiting several seconds before crawling to his right and making an exit. The ground below him was a hard one with no vegetation, but instead dry sand that was hot due to the growing sun—the “conqueror”—that brought with it a terrible heat at this time of day. With slow, silent footsteps, Adi made his way across the outside of the Pitfalls, looking for a stallion to ride. Instead, he found several slithering Snakes. 

‘Oye! Where’re you going?!’
Swords unsheathed. Armours and shields ready. 

‘Don’t pick a fight…’ he was panting, ‘with The Hunter.’ 

Still partially dazed, he reached behind his back and grabbed the beautiful one-handed cross bow that was slung across his shoulder. Without a second’s delay, he shot a bolt at the face of one Snake and dropped the bow. He then gripped his sword tightly, as the legs of the dead Snake loosened. 

‘GAHHH!’ He screamed, charging at the company and slashing diagonally at one soldier, ducking to dodge the sword of another, and slashing back in the other direction. Three out of nine were down, only six to go. 

They were all behind him. 

He made a run for it, hearing the sound of a restless, puffing stallion. He was surrounded by The Pitfalls on his right and a patch of empty land, unguarded, and the rest of the town on his left. Unfortunately enough from him, more and more Snakes found him, running to catch up from behind. He ran forwards, as fast as he could, to the sound of the puffing stallion, only to find a Snake rider on top of it. The galloping horse ran right towards him, and the rider had a sword extended out, ready to cut Nathanial’s head off. Rapid, Nathanial dropped his sword, unsheathing the little knife at the back side of the belt, and grabbing it with his left hand. He then remembered the little manoeuvre he’d learned when he was younger, readying his right hand to grab the horse’s saddle. From behind him, a company of Snake ran after his life. From in front, a Snake rider galloped at top speed to cut his head off. And yet they all lacked one thing—they didn’t have the timing of a hunter. 

Nathanial jolted his left arm, swinging the little knife like a wild axe on the bark of a tree. It landed with perfection, right in the rider’s eye socket. His sword instantly dropped, and at the very next instant, Nathanial took his left leg off the ground, knee slightly bent, and grabbed the saddle of the horse on his side, jumping into the air at the same time. His raised leg helped him manoeuvre his way onto the horse, and the speed of the horse got him high enough into the air to fall right on the saddle of the horse. The neighing stallion slowed in the midst of the commotion on its back, but Nathanial threw the rider off, taking reign of the stallion’s saddle and ropes, finally guiding him the other way at top speed. He could hear the sound of knives being thrown—but none with quite the same precision that he did. His galloping horse took him the other way, right into town and through to the welcoming horizon of freedom.

***

Chapter 74; The Slow, Gruelling Moment Which Lasts A Thousand, Thousand Lifetimes

/The Banished Lands

Theren Rolan was at the bottom of the world. The icy chasm that held within it the demons of the world. She knew that her older brother Nathanial had ventured all seven Lines of The Lands, trekking through each and every single one of them. He was the boldest of them all, and would never run away from a challenge. Hopefully, he’d come back to Loazer and take the reins from her; she couldn’t deal with it anymore. 

Don’t fekhin think that! She thought, shutting out the terrible thoughts from her mind. She couldn’t bare to think that she’d have thoughts like these, that her mind was weak enough for her inner demons to bend it as they wished.

The landscape ahead of her was somewhat a sculpture of great magnitude—the rocky icebergs felt like things of clay; what, with all the perfection they stood. The proud gates stood proud in the face of tinier things behind it—the grate and metal beasts burying its feet deep into the icy grounds. The entire place was rather intimidating for her to see in real life; she’d heard stories all her life, about how many, many years ago, it was her ancestors and the Tanshas who together built the massive prison to keep away the vicers and criminals of the world. Now, the entire place is populated with mostly vicers in the last few lines, and the criminals in the rest. 

Enter the Second Line, and look for the green shack with The Ages of Wood engraved on its front. She remembered her instructions, crisp and clear. She knew things had changed since she’d gotten involved in all of this—she was a pawn and not the queen she thought she was. Even so, the only change that she went through wasn’t actually one in power; it was one in realisation. Realisation of the fact that all of her power was just an illusion, and that everything was being moved and orchestrated by this great, powerful, untouched empire waiting to be revealed. And yet, of all the great rulers in the world, not one was willing to do that. Not one of all the rulers the Innkeeper had mentioned who were with them. 

Theren was armed and ready to enter and face anything coming her way. She had her four spies by her side, lined up like battalion leaders, with more than fifty Crocodiles lined up behind them. They were armoured up heavily—thick, guarding green metal armours and slung longswords on their shoulders made them look like an unstoppable force. An unstoppable force she soon wouldn’t have at her disposal. 

As she walked up to the gate, the hundreds of commanders and Crocs saluted her, and the massive thing came storming open for her entire company to walk through. And yet the only thing she could think of was how many of these Crocs were under The Ages of Wood. Krilin knows, all of them could be working for them. Hopefully, they didn’t have the worst intentions for her kingdom.

As the gates opened, she saw the inside of The Lands. The massive ice continent was filled with humongous storage houses and prisons, and littered with tiny shacks and roaming commoners, or “The Exiled” as they were called. Most of “The Ventures” could be found in the seas between The Lands, and “The Workers” were nearly synonymous with The Exiled, only not having the same kind of flexibility as them, and finally, “The Prisoners” didn’t see wiola’s light all that often, locked away in the massive units that housed them. She’d heard the rooms were so small that most of The Prisoners suffocated to death in some of the massive prisons—they’d house thousands and thousands of them, relentless in their ability to torture. 

‘Now what?’ Hvit asked, as they stood at the gaping gate between The Banished Lands and the rest of the world. 

‘Get on your horse.’ 

The Crocs from behind pulled out 5 horses for them, each of them mounting one and crossing the border. Their entry was grand; an entire legion of Crocodilian soldiers, under The Leg of course, made way for them to pass through. The Leg had apologised on their behalf already for not being able to meet her; their government had matters to tend to in Line 6. 

The five of them each mounted their own stallions; hers was a dashing young, shining white thing standing candidly in its own spotlight. Without any care for keeping a low profile, they marched through the main, massive gate of the Second Line. Her horse’s hooves trotted easily through the thick layers of snow that lay between it and the stone cold ground of The Lands. Nothing with a sane touch was going to feel the deep stone of this land; it had been covered in snow ever since Krilin blew his snowy kiss straight into the South, sailing around the entire world. Leaving his icy touch thousands and thousands and thousands of years ago made the entire land swallow a mouthful of snow, covering it entirely in little white particles which engulfed everything with colour. Or so, she was told by her father in a bedtime story; she always took this one with a grain of salt. 

‘You think we’ll get him back, my lady?’ Hvit asked, gripping his horse with tight, nervous hands. All four spies with her weren’t in the know about anything that was happening; all they knew was that Isolde had been captured. She didn’t quite know whether she would want to tell them about The Ages, and so she didn’t. 

‘I don’t fekhin know, Hvit. I don’t know.’ She said. Her voice quavered; apparently, she couldn’t stomach a tragedy this big. A change this big. And to think she was to rule the most powerful kingdom in the world. 

‘I’m…I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean to pester you. It’s just that…all of us—all of us spies are just as in the dark as you are. We are all just as worried for our commander. We want to see him see the light of the next day, and we’re scared shitless that he might not. So…’ she turned to face him, and his expression turned sour fast, ‘how can you be like this?! How can you just ignore our sentiments?!’ He retorted with tremendous force. Pires, Connor, and Dek all looked at him with a mountain of shock crushing their visages. 

The horses halted in the middle of the ground, neighing restlessly as they took rest. 

‘What…did you say to me?’ She said, gritting her teeth in anger as she faced the loan Etathesian. The Crocs behind her turned their gaze towards him, grabbing the hilts of their swords. 

‘My lady, we’re all fekhin worried for him, and yet you act so pretentious—you act like it’s your own loss!’

‘How dare you—’

‘No, I’m sorry my lady, but how can you treat us like—’

‘Take him away from here.’ 

A pack of Crocodiles surrounded him, manoeuvring him away from the other spies. Each of them had stunned expressions on their face, but they all knew that he deserved to be removed for now.

‘No no no no no, my lady, no! I—no! No, my lady, please! You’ll need my help!’ 

As he begged, she said no words, but instead turned in front and continued marching. The Crocs shoved Hvit to the back and tied him by the wagons. No one dared to open their mouth after that. 

A few leagues of travelling later, they finally arrived at a green shack with The Ages of Wood’s ren-call, or sigil, rather, etched onto the front of the shack. Theren got off her horse, nervous to see what awaited her, and knocked on the door, loud and clear. A fairly beautiful woman answered—fair skin and blue eyes—and she had blonde hair tied up at the back of her head, with a few stray strands falling on her face. 

‘Who’re you, and what the fekh are you doing with an army on my doorstep?’ 

Theren gave her a lifeless, concerned look. For seconds, she didn’t say anything, motionless. She froze as her thoughts strayed. Her thoughts strayed into an alley of confusion. An alley of regret, where the deepest, darkest drops of water fell through the pores on the ground into shadowy underground caves. Facing this decision was a world of confusion and uncontrollability that she couldn’t bear to face. And yet she upheld her reputation and did it anyway; she sacrificed her real power all for looking like she had any. She knew the cards were in The Innkeeper’s hands, and she was just the dealer, propagating all of his decisions. And so, with an ounce, and another, and a few litres of regret, she pulled out the glowing green locket from under her shirt, opening it and showing it to the woman. 

***

The woman took them to a cliffside a few leagues away from the shack. The sky was a bright, pristine blue—and wiola’s light shone brightly on the entire land; of course, its light shone brighter on all living things and beings around. 

‘Right this way, “my lady”.’ The woman from the shack said, with an undertone of sarcasm. She guided them right to the cliffside, where there was a company of about twenty or so men standing, all of them armed, in green clothes, none of them etched with any sigil or ren-call. Behind the line of men stood another man, facing the cliff. His hands were at his back, and his short hair was slicked back. 

He looks familiar…

‘Now, my lady,’ the woman said, walking back towards the line of her own men, ‘we know why you’re here. You’re here…to get your precious spy back. The orders have come from up above, and so we’re here to do just that.’ 

Whatever sick games The Innkeeper’s playing, I will stop them as soon as I fekhin go back to the king—

‘But, there’s a twist,’ she said, smiling wide and sharp. She gestured to the men at the forefront of the line to clear up and expose the back of a head Theren was all too familiar with. 

Lothar Rolan. 

Her eyes widened as she prevented herself from gasping. She breathed heavily. Anger and dismay overcame her entire body. She couldn’t believe it for a second. 

Who’s that behind him…

Behind her own, cruel brother, was a man strapped to a chair, at the very edge of the cliff. He seemed unconscious, head tilted down and all. 

Isolde.

She nearly screamed his name and ran towards Lothar, but prevented herself from doing something stupid. 

‘Stand back, my lady! You want no part in—’ Pires started, but got interrupted by Theren’s gesture. 

‘Ah…how they call you “my lady”. A thing of royalty…is my beloved sister.’ The snaky, eerie voice of her younger, nasty brother said. He turned to face her, hands behind his back. His hair had grown longer; he’d slicked it back, and within the span of a few months down South, he was already looking far more muscular. Yet none of this mattered; none of these details mattered, because all she could focus on was the fact that he, too, had a locket hanging around his neck. Out and on display for her to see. She stared at it, baffled in her own right, unable to fathom the games The Ages were playing. 

He, too, looked down at his own locket, making a whimsical expression.

‘Oh, this? Hah! You’re not the only one with one of these, my sullen lady. In fact, I presume he’ll be having one soon.’ He said, as he moved away from his spot on the cliffside to reveal Isolde strapped to a chair, and as she’d suspected, he was passed out. Lothar bent over to face him, and slapped his cheek several times—hard and rapid. He held nothing back, venting all of his frustration in three gruesome slaps. The man blinked, cheek red as a cherry, to wake up with a drowsy, distant look on his already torn apart visage. He groaned, moving his neck ever so slightly as he tried to look around and see where he was, but he was too far gone to do so; beaten so bloody that he’d lost all his senses. Lothar, too impatient to wait, picked him up with one hand and held him in a hard, threatening grip around his throat. His fingers clasped the edges of his throat, turning them red in the matter of seconds as Isolde’s life began draining away, his wide, red eyes giving away a sense of hopeless despair. Theren’s entire being was etched with gruesome pain and torture as she saw her commander’s life drain away right in front of her. 

‘STOP HIM!’ She screamed. The line of Crocodiles behind her raged ahead, swords and spears all pointed forwards, charging towards the brigade of Ages men. Within a swift second, Lothar sunk behind the line of his own soldiers and turned towards the lady. 

In a brief second, he gave her the slightest of nods, turning his gaze back towards Theren.

‘Ah, my lady…retreat your horse-like men.’ He said, grabbing a large, razor sharp knife from a sheath hung on his belt. ‘You mistake me! Oh, sister…you mistake me when you show me all of this! I mean, do you really think that your line of troops is going to stop the book keeper from taking all the bets? Oh, you are deeply mistaken, my lady.’ 

The knife that he held fastened its deadly touch around Isolde’s throat, as Lothar lowered his choking hand and held him by his chest. The monster within that sharp thing that could be called a knife salivated at the sight of fresh, uncut blood.

‘Hm…oh, my lady,’ he said, gripping him harder and with more tension by the second. Theren felt sick to the stomach; a sense of dread and finality entered her gut, ‘You see, I don’t really have a horse in this race, my lady…’ their gazes locked, Theren’s worried eyes fixed onto Lothar’s calm ones, ‘and yet…I’m the one doing all the betting.’ Within a brief moment, a spewing red splash accompanied a wicked smile on a smug visage that she couldn’t bear to see. The slow dragging of that sharp, metallic monster rubbed and dug into the soft surface of poor, innocent flesh. Red coloured the canvas of death that stared right back at Theren, a canvas of death that painted the picture of her loved one, of her commander, of her dear Isolde. No screams exited her pained mouth, no shocked look beamed from her eyes, and no sick feeling overtook her gut. No dread crossed her mind and no beads of sweat fell across her temple. She stood on the icy cliffside, simply staring into the distance. A body was chucked down the mountain, which she could see from the corner of her eye. Her Crocs held their own furious stance, but she gave them a signal to retreat. There was going to be no fight today. No more bloodshed. No more bloodshed on her account for the sick fantasies of The Innkeeper. She’d lost a love, a known associate, a friend, a loyal soldier and spy, and yet all she could think of was how it was all a part of some sick ploy. 

‘Run away, my lady. Or stay, too. Either way, he’s never coming back.’
Her brother held the faintest of smiles on his face. She should have had him killed for the taunting alone, and yet all she could do was let her passiveness overcome her. The image of the slow, gruelling knife dragging across Isolde’s throat played in her mind a thousand times over, without stop. She felt no emotion, yet she couldn’t think of anything else. The spies alongside her too were stunned, unable to think clearly. The slow, gruelling moment lasted a thousand, thousand lifetimes in her head. 

Isolde was no more. 

***

Chapter 75; Theren’s Secret

/Isolde’s House - D’Wani Leagues

Making her way up the same tight stares going up to his fourth floor chamber was heartbreaking this time around. Heartbreaking because she knew Isolde wouldn’t be there behind her, watching her back in a place like this. Heartbreaking because she knew that she’d just lost her greatest spy. The suffocating, claustrophobic stares of his Unith home always felt comforting when he was there, yet now it just felt…suffocating and claustrophobic. Her eyes were seeped red—red as she’d cried tears for hours after returning from The Banished Lands. When it happened—when she saw the knife crawl across his throat with its bitter claws—she’d felt nothing. Nothing at all, not even shock, not even sadness, nothing. It was only on the way back when the image of his death dragged itself into the quarters of her emotion, dampening it with its cold, sad touch. And it hadn’t left since. She hadn’t even seen her other spies until now; but that could wait; right now, there was only one person she needed to see. One person who’d disappeared from the surface of Erhin, and one person who she hadn’t seen more than once or twice since it’d happened. One person who all thought had left the world in Krilin’s bad eye. 

Rothrin Rolan.

The old, creaking door made way for her to enter the small, tucked away chamber where her half-dead older brother lay resting. She walked up to the bed, where he had been put and bandaged up all over his body. White cloth, still coloured with drops of red, was wrapped all around his entire torso, leg, and right upto his neck. He couldn’t move his head; he could barely even open his eyes. The bags under his eyes were large, his hair was messy and going all over the place, and his entire body was stiff as a staff. She got down on her knees to get a better look at her brother, and her eyes were just as tired as his, only hers were filled with tears.

‘Oh…oh brother, do you listen?’ She was unsure if he would be able to respond, last time around, she’d just heard a few words.

‘W-w-why…’ he groaned, with a rasp, unrecognisable voice, ‘do you k-k-keep…me away from—’ a raging cough interrupted his words. Theren quickly held his hand, giving him a concerned look. She felt a cold drop fall on her leg.

‘—ahhhh…’ he groaned, struggling to survive in the world of spoken words, ‘away…from the world?’ 

Away from the world…? Oh… 

‘Rothrin…I—I can’t yet let them know you’re alive, I—’

‘Why?!’ He said, his voice toned with a hint of anger. 

‘Because, I—I—’

‘Just…let me be seen…’ he said, coughing right after. A minute of words had already put an unimaginable drain of energy on her brother, and so she decided to offer him the real reason.

‘I can’t, my dear brother, because Lothar could be pardoned if you’re seen alive. The Southern Lords’ll pardon him—they’ll want him made Lord of Loazer.’ 

Rothrin stared off into the distance, discontent by expression.

‘So…so what do you plan…on doing?’ He said, voice raspy as ever. ‘You want to keep me hidden…until you kill him?’ 

Theren took a deep breath, scared to admit the truth. The truth about what she wanted. 

‘Yes.’ 

***

‘My dear spies,’ she said, facing the other 9 spies from Rean, standing on a window field by the shore of Kais. She’d called them all here to find some seclusion from the rest of the kingdom, ‘four of you who came with me already know what happened…I…don’t know if the rest of you do, but I am here to tell you.’ She could already see confused, worried looks surfacing on the faces of her spies. ‘Isolde Ganderon, our other worldly commander, our wonderful head spy, and our relentless missionary…is dead.’ 

Hvit’s eyes filled with sudden horror and shock—he hadn’t even been informed since they left The Lands, as he was taken back on a different wagon, no contact with the other spies, altogether. 

‘Dead?! Dead?!!’ He cried. The rest of her spies were just as shocked. 

‘I watched him have his throat slit…by none other,’ she raised her voice, ‘than my very own snake of a brother…Lothar. He had formed an impenetrable line of troops in front of our spy, and cut his throat and chucked his body off the cliffside.’ 

***

Hvit was in a state of absolute horror. He had no idea what had happened when he had been left behind outside the gates of the Second Line, as he’d just been pushed into another wagon and taken home. He thought that they’d brought him back, but…apparently not. 

I could have saved him!!! I could have saved Isolde, if only I was there…

He was convinced they were at fault, not him. He was convinced that he should have been there, and he was convinced that he would have reacted faster than anyone in killing Lothar before he would have the chance to slice his throat.
Anger flew red and high through all his veins. Trouble and sadness filled his mind, and numbness pulsed strong in his muscles. 

It’s all an illusion…all of this is false! A false head…a false head at our helm.

***

Chapter 76; Karma

/The Banished Lands

Kovacs had already called Lothar for his next task. He’d been feeling like a king ever since he’d met his sister and killed her lover right in front of him, and all he could thank for the chance was The Ages of Wood. They were the ones who gave the chance to him to give back to his bitch sister what she deserved for sending him way out to the prisoners’ island of the world. But to him, it had been a land of great awakening. Every single week, and every single day of the week, he’d trained his heart out to become a better fighter, a better mind, a better habitant of the world. Someone to truly make a change. Someone to shock and astound, and someone to be a part of a bigger picture. Not just an inconsequential part of a royal family who had nothing to do but be embarrassed by his family, shamed and put to the ground, to be squashed like a lone bug. 

I’m not a bug anymore…I’ve never been a bug, and I’ll never…ever be one. 

He was riding high on his confidence, and he knew it. For all the tremendous, bone fracturing beatings he’d taken since coming South, he was feeling a whole lot stronger, and a whole lot more ready to take on the world. But for now, he had another mission to complete, another one he was called for, and so that was the only thing that had his focus. Once he reached the cliffside, he was greeted by Isitril and Kovacs, both standing in the same spot that he was just a few weeks ago, behind his sister’s lover, holding a knife to his throat. Yet this time, things didn’t seem quite as exciting. Both of them had their arms behind their backs, and both of them had worried—sad, rather—looks on their faces. Lothar frowned. 

‘What? What’s the matter?’ He asked, switching looks to see both of them. 

‘We’ve got a mission for you, Lothar.’ Kovacs said, staring at him. Her leather warms kept her protected from the icy chill flying through the land, not that she actually even needed it.

‘Well,’ he said, laughing, ‘what is it?’

Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked that question. Her words filled his mind as she told him the entire plan. Everything that he was reborn for over the last few months here in the South, everything that had been brought back to life in his own life was about to go to waste over one mission. His face turned as she told him the details—the gruesome, bloody details that shocked him and disturbed him. He was left disappointment, sad, dour, once more, counting the several times in the past he was left feeling this way. He looked down at the snow-laden ground once Kovacs was done telling him his mission. 

‘Do you concur?’ She asked. Not even a hint of an emotion in her voice.

As badly as he wanted to say no, as badly as he wanted to scream his lungs out and complain, he’d learned better than that over this part of his life, and so he certainly wasn’t going to say no. 

‘I concur.’ 

And so a wonderful journey came to a solemn end.

***

Chapter 77; The Changes on The Face of Man

/The Pitfalls, Kaandor

Where is that stupid fekha? Brompen thought, drooling and rolling in his own filth, locked in a cage. Alongside him was that painful, strange exotic creature of a Wielder, Biv, who he knew he could dismantle in seconds, and Grace, that whore who never shut her mouth. Both of them were right pains in his ass whom, if he had the choice, he’d happily dismantle and sell their body parts in the Grays.

‘Boy…this not good. This not good at all.’ Biv said, distressed. He was like a child, unwilling to solve the problem, only sitting on his ass and complaining. 

‘You’re a fekhin Wielder. Un-Wield these damn locks!’ Brompen said, eyes squinted.

‘I can’t, man! I tried. Since The Pitfalls, I’m exhausted man! Done for! No power for a while.’ 

The fekh…?

‘M’ro, that’s not how Wielders work! What Pennicle quality is your Light, you foreign chicken?’ 

‘Chicken?! You call me chicken? We friends man! Why you—’

‘Shut up. Alright, just shut up. Give me a minute to think. Alright…alright. How long’s it been we’s been here?’ 

‘I dunno…three weeks?’ 

‘Three weeks…alright…and none of you dumb fekhas have been able to OPEN THE FEKHIN LOCKS!’ He screamed, eyes drowning in the massive bags under them. He had such a sickened, exhausted look on his face, yet all he wanted to do was get out of this cell and run free.

Good thing I didn’t leave m’ass toy. He thought, hoping for one chance to escape. Hoping for one window to jump through and call himself a free man. Luckily enough, Nathanial was able to do that at The Pitfalls. He was the smartest of the five of them; he left as soon as he could. He abandoned this stupid, pointless journey to go save his family, which truly meant something to him. Yet here the three of them were, locked away in a cage for what? For the whim of one Wielder’s “vision”? Just because he dreamt something crazy up, four extremely important, Kingdom-tied persons should put their lives in danger? And for what? A journey where Adi didn’t even know what he wanted? He couldn’t believe he’d accepted the offer from Biv. 

But then again, if they got out of here in time, the money would be golden. He’d be showering in a rain of Diamins if he got out of here. 

‘What about…you?’ Brompen asked, turning to the “prettiest” fairy of them all. Grace. Pathetic. 

‘What…what…what about me?’ She asked, voice trembling like a little child’s.

‘D’you have anything? Anything to open that lock? No? Anything at all?’ He asked, eyes nearly shutting as he couldn’t believe them. 

‘Course you don’t. You’ve a pair of tits, the fekh would you know?’

‘Hey!’ She belted out, more distressed than he’d ever seen her. That gave him a smile. Some sort of disgust that he was able to pass on. 

‘Worse now, that pussy doesn’t add much either to your thinking, does it?’ 

Her jaw dropped in disgust, fuelling his desire to talk more…shit.

‘Yeah? So upset, eh? Well, I bet—’

RAM came the rustling, bustling door that creaked and screamed, scraped the floor and bruised the dungeon—the loud, squeaky, creaky door swung open, thawing away the name of smoothness of doors; it was so loud, so noisy, so jarring, that all of them stood up in shock. It felt like a thousand knives had scraped the floor—yet it was just one door. 

‘KRILIN fekh my balls!’ Brompen screamed, jumping back and tumbling over. 

‘You are all requested at The Pitfalls.’ An angelic voice said—a voice he could barely even hear after what that door opening did to his ears. 

‘The fekh?’ 

‘You are all…requested…at The Pitfalls. Please make your way immediately.’ The voice said once more. 

The light from outside didn’t just seep into his eyes—they rammed their way through, piercing every hole of his eyeball. They infiltrated them and blinded them, took their only job away and tossed it into the litter—the flashing white light that the Conqueror set down on the lands screamed rage into his eyeballs—it was heatwave season. Layonas was infamous for these tragic heatwaves every two weeks or so—the Conqeuror screamed from above, sending all its fury down to the lands. The heat was literally boiling—he could feel sweat trickling down…pretty much everything. 

‘The fekh d’you all feed your sun, eh?’ 

‘Please. Abstain from your words of disgust.’

He felt a hand tug his arm, as he blindly followed through this outdoor of nothingness that his blinded eyes showed him. He could hear four or five footsteps behind him, perhaps guiding the other two as well. The firm grip on his arm pissed him off. 

‘Get your fekhin hand off of me!’ He said, wrestling in a sudden, aghast mood and yanking his arm out. He sure felt a socket of his jolt with immediate pain as he pulled his arm out. 

Forgot the mechanics of your body in the cell, didn’t you?

‘Please, sire. You will not be able to make your way through if I do not guide you.’ 

‘Guide my balls. Stupid fekhin Kaandorian.’ 

In the distance he heard some mumbling, followed by an approaching pair of footsteps. And then a yank at his feet. 

He fell flat on his back—the sandy floor burned his paining back and head, as he yelped in pain. 

‘Gah! You fekhas! I’ll have all o’your mums fekhed and killed! Mark my words, mans! I’ll find y’all, ye families, and ye mums! I’ll fekh em’ all! And I don’t even like it.’ 

His long, already balding head scraped against the hard, sandy floor. He felt cuts open up in his head by the second—and his baggy clothes tear with every pull of his body. His head boiled and burned—bruised and cut—and the acute pain made its way up across the entire back surface of his head. 

‘Lads! Please! My head!’ He screamed, begging in the agony of his pain. Thankfully, a pair of hands lifted him from his sore shoulders, thrusting him up into the air. He was now being carried entirely. Like a stupid, senile baby. Luckily though, his eyes returned from their long holiday in blind island, making their way back into his sockets. 

Fekhin finally…

He looked around himself, still slightly blinded, to find the same desert scape like before with a city at the horizon and a massive tower over his head. He was being carried by the side, right back into The Pitfalls. Before he knew it, they were inside the hall, cold and marbled, black and business-like, deadly and despaired. At the helm of the chamber was the line of thirteen men—the Council of Layonas—standing high on their pedestal, reigning over the inferior subjects, inferior soldiers in the room. They reigned all—the biggest planet, the baddest sun, the most powerful lineup of soldiers. How in Krilin’s hell did they fool the entirety of Loazer that they were losing the Hothras War? How?

‘Ah! My favourite fellow prisoners.’ The loud mouthed King, the false Rathor said. The deception they’d crafted in The Pitfalls, when Adi and company had confronted them, was masterful. Brompen, being the best Wielder Killer of them all, was curved. More so than Koralisar, it was that vicer Wielder that did the true damage. That vicer Wielder who broke everything down. 

‘Call us fellow prisoners, eh?’ Brompen said, ‘You’re not a fellow prisoner. You’re the cock that shoved us in and sat back down in his “royal throne”. A throne that ye ‘ass never quite fit right, m’ro.’ 

Eyes turned towards the bad mouther, filling him with an immeasurable pleasure. Koralisar looked at him with a slight frown, as if he was coming up with something to say back to him. 

‘Which one of us has his hands tied, my friend? Certainly not me. So if it’s you who has his hands tied, it means your mouth is too. I hope you understand that.’ He said. The man’s staff was slung across his back. The slick teenager sure loved giving off the look of power; power he never quite had. 

Before Brompen said something else stupid, the Weemlander stepped out of the line to say a few words. He walked up with quite the limp, seemingly injured to the point where he could barely handle himself. 

‘You three…are allies that accompanied Adi Walkman on his journey. Now you may have been wondering in the past why you were there with him. Similarly, you may be wondering that now as well,’ he said. His voice was raspy like the scraping of pine cones, ‘Adi, was kept aside from the three of you. A dangerous man—a lion…cannot be kept locked with sheep.’ 

‘Sheep? Ye call us sheep? You’re the stupid flock that let your most valuable captive get away, you fekhin bastards.’ He said, talking about Nathanial. The sharp, blue haired man, dressed in tight black formals, shifted uncomfortably, barely able to respond. This type of image of Altheas Tansha, this broken fragment of a man, was not the image that Brompen had of him, based on everything he’d heard in past tales. 

‘Altheas.’ Koralisar said, raising his hand and telling him to stand back. ‘I’ll…take it from here.’ The teenager shined with confidence that Altheas lacked. ‘You three must be wondering where your companion is. Well…he has a few…words…to say.’ A separate gate, at the back of The Pitfalls, opened up, to let a free, healthy looking Adi Walkman to walk into the hall. He had a worried frown on his face, but not one strand of his brown-blonde hair was out of place. Not one beard hair was misplaced. He wore immaculate formals—a dark, tight, fabric vest, buttoned up meticulously, just like the Weemlander. He walked with a straight, confident posture, yet his face spoke the complete opposite of what his body’s image gave off. 

From his side, Brompen could hear Biv shaking and whispering, constantly muttering something to himself. He was stuttering and stammering, struggling to get words out of his mouth, but nonetheless relented in shaming himself in front of everyone by continuously muttering like a madman. 

‘Adi Walkman was our fourth prisoner. Unluckily for us,’ Koralisar continued, ‘The Rolan did leave our grip. It is…it is too bad. Yet, a Dark Wielder—The…Dark Wielder—did compensate our needs for…for a valuable captive, as you last spoke, Lord…Lord Grassholder, is it?’ 

Brompen nodded, keeping his eyes locked on Adi. Brompen had been alive for a very long time—many, many years. He’d been through it all. He’d seen thousands of faces in tense moments like these. He knew exactly what a man was thinking and why he was thinking it. He knew how people reacted to situations, how people would act when something would happen. Yet, he had absolutely nothing on Adi. He couldn’t make a single thing out from what Adi’s face told him. It communicated so much—so many emotions tucked into that visage. So many emotions, as if the last few weeks had swallowed him in and churned out a different man. What type of man this new man was…was something Brompen just couldn’t tell. 

‘Well, my Lords and my Lady, I’ll let him speak for himself.’ 

Adi turned to look at Koralisar, both of them shared a long, scaring look for Brompen to see. There was just one thing that he hoped wouldn’t happen.
Koralisar nodded. ‘Go on.’ 

Brompen looked at the ceiling above, closing his eyes and sighing. He turned to see Biv and Grace, both of them oblivious. What Brompen couldn’t tell was happening, he could now. 

Adi slowly walked up to the three of them, facing them with a concerned, worried, ashamed, horrified look. 

‘Adi…help us! Please, help us! Let us free!’ Grace screamed. Biv didn’t say anything, he just looked down at the floor and muttered. 

A helping hand? Is that what the poor lady expected? Before he could think, and in tandem with Adi Walkman, as Adi raised his hand in the air, steadying his stance, Brompen stuck his hand down his pants—grabbing his last resort. His last, conniving peace of anti-magic. 

Just because the rest of his companions were too stupid to see the truth of the situation didn’t mean he would stand by and watch them die. And yet his chained hands didn’t let him act fast enough. Adi’s hand went up in an instance, and a black beam unleashed from the tip of his fingers and the centre of his palm. A black beam quite nothing like the ones Brompen had seen him shoot before—this one was sharp. This one was solid. What was an untrained Light that Adi struggled to control; what was a misty, uncontained energy, was now a perfect, directed beam of light, a beam of light that shot a gaping large hole through Biv’s chest. Flesh and bones burned and misted, evaporating into thin air, leaving a gushing red waterfall to fill the massive gap in his chest. Brompen froze for a second, until he quickly realised that it was his turn next. He took the thing out of his ass and squeezed it in his hands. It was boiling and bursting with life in his palm. A thing leashed…waiting to be set free and run rampage. 

We’ll see where your beams fly now, Adi Walkman. 

AntiWielding was an art. An art that he’d perfected. And all he had to do was let his hand open. And so he did. The round, bubbling thing burst on the floor, creeping through into thousands of directions all over the floor, throwing up bursts of smoke and fire everywhere around the entire hall. Brompen knew he had to stop breathing. Before he could do anything, he closed his mouth, took no breaths in, and watched Biv fall lifelessly onto the floor, his body consumed by the fire spit of his little device. Brompen turned around and kicked the Snake right behind him. He’d remembered the exact layout of the hall, and so while everyone else around him was blinded, he made a run for it. Behind him, he heard another beam of Black Light shoot from Adi’s palm, this time hitting Grace by chance, as she screamed a short, painful, but quickly finished bawl, a harrowing one at that. Luckily for Brompen, he was far from Adi’s sight, and far from anyone’s at that—the entire chamber was bursting with fire and smoke, but he ran as fast as he could to avoid it. A few bursts burned his legs, but he’d used this before; he knew how to manage the pain. Experience was his best friend, and Wielding was his enemy. He ran to the same window that was still fractured since Nathanial’s exit, jumping out of it and making a run for it. He stopped right outside The Pitfalls; he had another minute or so while everyone was blinded, and so he took a breath. Hands still chained, he ran to find a Snake who’s sword could cut his hands. Yet all of them had run straight into The Pitfalls after hearing the extreme, bang sound of the explosion, and so he decided to make a subtle run for it through the plain, sandy lands. He kept himself alert as ever, spotting Snakes on his right running towards The Pitfalls. He quickly hid behind a marble wall which caved into the building, and so hid him from the running Snakes. Once the coast was clear, he made a run for it, out into the downhill climb from outside the Tower borders. But he could barely control his muscles, and so when he reached the cliffside, he couldn’t stop his running. His foot slipped, and he tumbled down the small, hard cliff, scraping every part of his body against the ground and prickly shrub along the way. Good. His exhaustion led him to be stopped in his path, but he was hidden under what felt like an infinite layer of twigs and shrub. And so he could finally rest. Rest comfortably for a few hours. Rest hidden away from the authorities. 

NO! Are you fekhin stupid? They’ll find you in a day! Get up. Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up!

With what felt like all the strength in the entire world, he helped himself up, even though his hands were chained behind his back, and continued to walk with the tugging chain of exhaustion tied around his neck. He made his way into the city. 

Oh…Adi Walkman…you fucking bastard. I’ll be back for you, Adi Walkman. I’ll be back for you. 

The poor Earthian didn’t even take much away from him. He didn’t kill his family or any precious friend of him, but he’d rattled his cage of comfort and took away his meals. He’d raised the drunk, tired beast out of his slumber and thrown him into a colosseum to fight. He’d ruined Brompen’s schedule, faced him with death and despair, and that had taken away his breath. He knew that, no matter how much toughness he showed on the outside, he couldn’t deal with this anymore. He couldn’t deal with the death and the blood anymore. He was old and tired and retired: finished. Yet he was awoken from the death on Adi’s whim. He was stripped of a thousand nights of sleep on the Wielder’s wish. He was Kingdom-ordered to risk his life and face that kind of death again on a confused wish. And that was something he could not bare to have on his back.

You’re done…Adi Walkman. FEKHING THROUGH WHEN I’M DONE WITH YOU.

***

Chapter 78; Walk / The Ruler of Ages

/Kenneth.

It had been a long, gruelling three weeks for the Lady of Rolan. Her head of inter-dimensional affairs, Muriel, had been extremely busy organising the leave of ten thousand Crocs. For these entire weeks, she’d been struggling to negotiate with the Southern lords, to convince them to lay off the debt they were owed for a while longer. For, well, years longer. Yet somehow, with her power and her conviction, she was able to keep them at bay; Northern Loazer faced a crisis, and so they had to deal with it with the accordance of the Southern Lords. Finally, after these weeks, Muriel was free to talk figures with her. 

‘So when was the sending of the Crocs started?’ 

‘My lady, we’d started while you were journeying South. We’ve been sending a hundred at a time on Gem-Boats. So far, we’ve been able to send one thousand three hundred Crocs across the dimensional border and to Kaandor. It is going as planned.’

He sounds strangely happy. She thought. The two of them sat in the Lords room downstairs in the Rolan Manor. Dining on a roast chicken. Just a few months ago her father and her sat here, as she tried to convince him to let her continue running Rean. Now he was dead, Isolde was dead, Altheas almost died, and she lost ten thousand of her soldiers, and the power of her kingdom to an underground league. A league of people so large that they could topple her own kingdom. She wouldn’t have that. She made it her life’s mission to shut them down. She just had to figure out how. 

‘Alright. And we’ll pay the debt in another…?’

‘I bought us twelve years with the Southern Lords.’ 

‘Twelve years?! How?’ 

‘Well, the loss of your soldiers along with the loss of your war cover-lord was enough to—’

‘Don’t. Mention it.’ She said, voice quavering with sadness. Even the thought of Isolde made her break down, and so she kept her thoughts at bay, locked away by the shore of Kais, far away from her mind. 

‘Well, I—’

All of a sudden, the door burst open, and a frenzy of footsteps follower, all for her to see only the face of a messenger boy. 

‘My lady! My—my lord! My lady, it’s your brother! He’s back! Requesting execution!’

Her heart sank into her chest, skipping a beat. And in an instant she knew it wasn’t him. It was The Ages. 

‘Where is he?’ She questioned, calm. Even Muriel was shocked to hear it. 

‘At The Stand, my lady! An entire crowd of commoners have gathered, they wait upon your arrival!’ 

‘We must go at once, Muriel. Call the carriages. Krosay! KROSAY! Call the carriages you idiot!’ 

***

A forty-eighth later, just outside Kenneth, they reached The Stand. The place of royal execution. And there he was. Lothar, on his knees, with his head at the executioner’s block, with his hands chained behind his back. The Stand was out in the open, high on a wooden pedestal, with steps leading up to it from all sides. The surrounding was built like a stadium, for commoners to watch and revel in the criminal’s death. It was gruesome, but it was the way her grand uncle Georgon Rolan saw fit to do it. 

Seeing her brother, she wanted to scream and pull the axe in an instant, yet a nagging feeling told her it wasn’t him; it was’t him at all doing any of this, and so she remained calm, thinking a thousand times over before making a rash decision. The commoners bustled and screamed with noise, screaming to have him killed. 

‘Silence!’ She called out, and in an instant, hundreds of mouths shut up. ‘Lothar…formerly of House Rolan, stripped of titles, stripped of privileges, and sent for the foreseeable future to The Banished Lands,’ she said, ‘Why are you here.’ 

‘I requested execution for my crimes. They sent me up here because I’m… “royal flesh” ’ he said, sarcastic in his tone.

She didn’t buy his lie for a second. This was all the doing of The Ages. And so she was going to play along. 

‘Very well, an execution is what you shall get.’ A cover-lord on her side nodded, allowing the executioner to glove his hands and pick up the axe. 

Was this what she should do?

The Locket! 

She looked closely at his neck, but found none. 

Fekh…they know. 

‘Any last words?’ 

Where is his Locket? WHERE IS HIS LOCKET?!

‘None! None but to say Krilin save this Kingdom from your unbalanced tyranny.’ 

‘Alright. Swing it.’ She said, letting fury overcome her. The black masked executioner raised his axe. She saw the tip of the metal thing fly high into the sky. She saw the muscular hand toss the humongous boulder of an axe high in the air, only to let it drop back down in seconds from then. The axe was high, waiting to cast its shadow upon the back of his neck, waiting to split the border between his body and his head. The sharp thing was raw and hungry, waiting for a splash of blood to bathe it and clean it in flesh and bone. And the thing began falling, falling down on her brother’s head—

‘STOPPPP!’ She screamed. The executioner suddenly diverted the path of his axe, swinging and cutting Lothar’s ear off. That was…close, if anything. 

Already horrified, Theren walked up to The Stand, trying to keep as straight a face as possible. The entire side of his head bled uncontrollably, yet her brother, what she knew to be a squealer, a whiner, made not a sound to express his pain. 

What did they do to him?

But none of this made sense. She knew that once one was given a Locket by The Ages, one was to never part with it. And so she had the tiniest hunch that somewhere, somehow, Lothar still had his locket. 

Anyone with three Lockets…becomes The Innkeeper. She remembered. Whatever sick, twisted game The Ages were playing, she was going to have no part. She was not going to follow their regime and kill her own brother, no matter how much she wanted to. No, she was going to defy them. Send their prophesier’s word to the depths of Chronisc’s eye. 

‘Tie his legs.’ She said, voice emotionless. The Crocs around her did so. 

Where is his Locket…where is it?!

An idea struck her. 

‘Take off his shirt.’ 

A Croc walked up to him, knife in hand, and ripped apart his simple vest. And there she found it. A rope tying the shiny thing at his chest. 

‘No, no no no no! My Lady, don’t! DON’T DO THIS!’ 

Even if the Crocs who removed his shirt were working for The Ages, they couldn’t do anything. They wouldn’t dare defy their Lady or harm her. And besides, she intended to send a message anyway. 

You’re not the only ones with power here.

She slowly walked up to Lothar, who, as she expected, screamed and disputed. She took a knife off of her Croc’s hand and cut the rope loose, and grabbed his Locket. 

That’s two. One to go. 

‘Untie him.’ 

We’ll see who’s the Innkeeper soon. Oh we’ll see how your Ages is doing, Innkeeper. We shall see. 

‘Walk, Lothar.’ 

‘Wha…what? You can’t do this! You don’t know their power! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY CAN DO!!’ 

Still a squealer. 

‘Walk.’ She said, firm and mad as ever. She had an entire line of Crocs behind her, standing with spears at the ready. 

‘MY LADY, PLEASE, I BEG YOU, DON’T DO THIS!’ 

‘Walk.’ She said, firm and steady. The Crocs behind her raised their spears, slowly walking behind Lothar, urging him to leave. The crowds screamed, muffling their words in confusion, some angry, mostly enraged. 

‘He’ll get you, my Lady, he’ll get you all! He’ll kill you!!’ 

‘You tell him,’ she began, followed by a moment of silence. The crowds stopped their noise, ‘you tell the Innkeeper what happened here. And you tell him that his reign… is over.’ And so it began. Dawn set on her age, as dusk set on The Ages. No more losing, no more surrenders. Her brother coming here changed everything; it changed the way she looked at her kingdom, it changed her mind, it changed her soul. No more would she be a pushover. No more would she be ruled by worse men, by men who didn’t know or understand power. No more would she be put down by the lack of belief her people had in her. No one but her knew what it meant to rule, and rule she would. 

Rule she would. 

***

Chapter 79; His World, And No One Else’s.

/The King’s Quarters, Kaandor.

I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed her. I killed her. I killed him. I killed her.

He killed him. He killed Biv. He killed Grace. Thinking of it felt like a rushing flood in his mind, filling every space of it; something that infiltrated his mind, something that he just couldn’t control. And yet the sunken lands within his mind stood higher. The lands where he sat, looking at the setting sun by the horizon, thinking he’d done the right thing. 

It’s The Dark Wielder’s destiny. This is your destiny. Let your passions guide you. Let your emotions rule your mind and heart. Let your passions guide you. Stick to your roots. Follow the script.

A troubling thought in his mind, the deaths of his friends were, yet at last he knew the reason for his journey. He was destined to be The Dark Wielder. He was destined to prove himself in Kaandor, and no where else. This was his destiny. He was meant to rule. He was meant to be on The Council, to carry the legacy of The Dark Wielder alongside Koralisar. This was where he could put everything he’d learned to use. This was where fate and The Fibre brought him. This was what the thousands of flashing lights in The Dark Wielder’s Palace was trying to show him. He was not some cruel, sick man to kill his companions. He was simply a messenger, carrying on a bigger message. A bigger message to change the world. To affect everything around him. To let his passions guide him. He was just one stroke in the painting, and he wouldn’t let that stroke be misplaced. If the art had to be perfect for the world to be, then his stroke would follow through and go exactly where it was supposed to, no matter how many rough patches on the canvas would try to stop the brush. 

‘Here we are, Lord Walkman. The Council’s Chambers.’ Koralisar said, a wide smile on his face, as he waited for the door to be opened. Behind him stood Adi, followed by Altheas Tansha.

The doors swung open to make way for the majestic Council’s Chambers. A chamber with a massive round table in the centre, and eleven men all having taken their seats. Yet this time, instead of thirteen chairs, there were fourteen. A last one added on the far end on the right of the table. Koralisar walked to the helm of the table, the Weemlander took his place beside him, and everyone waited for Adi; everyone waited for him to take his newfound place. A chair that was the next third of his life. The chair upon which if he would sit, it would mean he was leaving behind the last fragment of his life. The fragment that he spent rediscovering himself in Erhin. A fragment spent with a best mate in Nathanial, a mentor in Biv, a grandmaster in Rys. Everything…everything…was being left behind. And yet something from within told him that this was what he wanted. This was his next step. 

He took slow, unsure footsteps, yet deep down he felt sure. Unsure to leave everything behind, but sure he was doing the right thing. Sure that this was his place as his life would continue. Sure that, perhaps this was not what he wanted, but what the Black Light within him did. He was simply a servant for it. A carrier. And he would do whatever it took for that beam to reach the end of its journey. And so he sat on the leather chair, adjusting to his comfort. His eyes, nervous as they’d ever been, shifted to look at each and every single set of the thirteen eyes which set themselves on his. A thousand memories flashed by in his mind. A dizziness overtook his head. A feeling of nausea enveloped his gut, yet at the end of it, he still felt good. His nervousness settled, and his peace of mind returned. This was where the Black Light needed to go, so this was where he would carve out its path. 

‘Shall we begin?’ Koralisar said, content with the proceeding of things. Adi took a breath, looking around the room one last time, as all eyeballs shifted on the King. He opened his eyes and ears, keen on listening in on the proceedings. Nothing around him distracted him; in fact, no thoughts of everything that happened infiltrated his mind anymore, because he came to one, simple realisation. He was The Dark Wielder, and he was travelling his path. 

This was his world, and no one else’s. 

***

End.