by Emily Wilson
The staircase proves to be just as precarious and daunting as it was the first time around, but they make it down easier this time without Aleon and Teagon there to make them nervous or shove them forwards. Azrian feels the same change in the air that he did the first time, but there’s no pull now — nothing guiding him to move faster or to a different area. He’d barely registered it on their original venture down here, but now that it’s missing, he’s not sure how he didn’t notice.
“Dawnreaper, right?” Azrian asks, keener to ask questions about the sword now that they’re alone with Hanigen and away from any and all prying ears. “What was it doing down here, and not even on a body? Aleon found it somewhere dumb.”
Kato bends down in front of the same skeleton they’d severed the head from and glances up. “Is there such a thing as somewhere dumb down here? Seems to me that maybe the sword belonged with him. Maybe an animal of some kind carried away, or maybe it was stolen from him before he died? The markings on his armor matched, remember?”
“You’re not wrong,” Hanigen confirms. “This was Cettia’s Champion. The very first of the Videre, and the last for quite some time. I think his loss hurt Cettia greatly.”
Knowing that in some small way, his fate is tied to these bones makes Azrian nervous. “What was he doing down here? Was this Cettia’s city or something?”
“Yes and no. What you have to understand is that once, humans and Praediti weren’t known to Athoze. This planet was inhabited by others. The Monseri were mountain folk. Coldhallow, Tizor, and a few underground caverns were their homes and they rarely ever surfaced. That’s why what you see before you is so vast. They had everything they needed between here and the top of the mountain — food, drink... and light.”
“Cettia’s?” Azrian prompts.
They move forward through the streets as Hanigen confirms his suspicion and stop once more, further than they’d traveled the first time. Before them, cracked stone steps lead up to a caved-in door. “This was the Hall of the King. His name is as lost as the city itself, not even my records name him — but the Monseri King was rumored to be just, kind, and utterly merciless to those who wished to harm his people. He had a special connection with Cettia though he was not Videre himself, and she allowed him the use of her light to brighten his halls and serve his people. In exchange, he offered her a Champion. She had need for one — this was at the beginning of the first recorded war between the gods — and the King was more than happy to offer up his best.”
“Do you know his name?” Azrian asks.
“He’s referenced only as Cettia’s Dawn. Those few, precious records give a general description of him, but it doesn’t differ a whole lot from a description of any Monseri. Mid-height, rough, pale skin, and hair darker than night. You saw yourself the differences in bone structure, but even that isn’t so different from humans. Come,” he urges, moving aside so Kato and Azrian can help him clear the entrance.
The rocks fall and clatter to the ground with a sound louder almost than Cindreg’s roar, but when the dust begins to settle, they step carefully over the debris until they land on solid ground inside the building. Azrian calls his Videre light and illuminates the hall around them, and it seems even brighter to his own eyes than it ever has before. Maybe she knows I’m here, Azrian thinks. Or maybe it’s just that dark.
“Now, the King ruled over his people for hundreds of years. Their lifespans were much longer than ours, and longer even than the other races that shared Athoze with them at the time. It’s impossible to say how long for sure since the records are so thin, but in my own explorations down here, I found a few dated trinkets with the same symbol that I believe belonged to the King.” Hanigen steps forward until they’re standing before a shrouded throne, and Azrian swears he can feel the weight of all those who stood in this same spot before him. Their hopes, their dreams, the things they begged for and offered in servitude. It’s overwhelming.
Kato moves the sheer fabric out of the way and sits down on the throne, and Azrian fights the urge to get on his knees. He blames it a little on the circumstances and mostly on his own personality, but if Hanigen senses what he’s feeling, he doesn’t comment. “Are you sure he was mid-height?” Kato asks. “This chair feels like it was built for someone my size.”
“Well,” Az says, refusing to look at him, “if I were a King, I’d want people to think I was bigger than I really was. I’d probably make a big throne, too.” He bends down to check out the tattered rug that extends from the foot of the throne back to the entrance, and once again, his mind is flooded with thoughts of those that came before. Who walked here? What were they like, and what did they want? Were there bullies in a society like this, or did they all understand that they were equals unlike their successors?
Hanigen watches them both and lets them soak it in, then gets their attention again. “Now, to finally get to the root of your initial question. When Cettia’s Dawn first came into possession of Dawnreaper, this mountain was impregnable. The Monseri were safer than they’d ever been before, and this city was thriving. The King began trading goods with other peoples of Athoze — to the spindly, peaceful Aequin near the rivers’ many edges and even the quiet Prael warriors. But with each new friendship formed, the King gained enemies. He let messengers from the other races inside these mountain walls, and one of those messengers proved to be the Monseri’s undoing.”
Kato doesn’t look like he’s breathing, so Az walks over to sit on his lap on the throne. “Snap out of it, Jellycrai. Don’t die down here, I can’t haul your body back up.”
“Huh?” Kato meets his gaze and visibly relaxes as he slides his hand into the back of Azrian’s pants. “I think I already died. Is this paradise?”
Hanigen tucks his lips between his teeth and turns away while Azrian squirms. “Shadows, Kato. Pay attention, and no, you’re not dead yet. Sorry, Han. Go ahead,” Az says. “You were telling us about the Monseri’s undoing?”
“Yes.” Shadows fall across Hanigen’s face as Azrian’s Videre light seems to dim, but he’s not sure what’s causing it. “Inais betrayed them all. He sent one of his own chosen few into the heart of this mountain to challenge Cettia’s Dawn. They battled for days, never stopping, never faltering, until the ruin around you was all that was left. He wasn’t after Dawnreaper, or the King, or the Champion himself — he was after one, singular item that was traded just days before. The Atarax,” he explains.
So many things make sense to Azrian now that didn’t before. “The Monseri had it,” he says quietly. “Did Osyn give it to Cettia or something?”
“Right again. She felt that the safest place for her grand design wasn’t on the island she favored, but under the protection of Cettia’s Dawn. However, the Monseri King was greedy. He traded the Atarax for a pile of gold right under Cettia’s Dawn’s nose. Now, he wasn’t aware of what he was trading, mind you. He believed it to be just an orb, a useless trinket that held no real power. But the buyer knew what it was. If only she would’ve known the true price that was paid that day.”
“And then the Atarax was lost until we found it,” Kato adds. “But what happened with the battle? They just... kept going until everyone was dead?”
“Not exactly. Now, here’s where I’ll begin going a little off the record books and reciting this story from memory. I had the extreme privilege of hearing this from Cettia herself when my journey first led me here, so I’d like to think this will actually be the most accurate piece of information that I give to you today.” Hanigen dusts off what looks like an old armchair and makes himself comfortable. “I already told you that the battle raged for days. But it wasn’t just the Betrayer and the Champion. When it looked like the whole mountain was going to come down around them, a few of the Monseri escaped. They spread the word of the battle for the unknown trinket and the coming war, but most of what they repeated was hearsay and gross exaggeration. Many began to believe that this was a god-scale war that would bring about the end of Athoze if t
hey didn’t do something, so less than a hundred hours after the first clang of sword on shield, the races of Athoze had put together something of a team. They didn’t bother with fancy names or titles; it was simply the strongest or wisest of each race banding together for what they thought was the good of Athoze — and the quest for what they rightly believed was the Atarax.
The battle ended before they arrived. Peace had been brokered between Cettia’s Dawn and the Betrayer, but word hadn’t yet reached the masses which were now already panicking. This group, they reached the mountain and saw just some of the evidence of what had happened there and made their decision with swiftness and complete injustice, but no one around them challenged it. They sacrificed and prayed to Nitore until he brought part of the mountain down on top of them and trapped every living being inside. Now, this alone would not have been the end of the Monseri. They were more than capable of survival without the outside world, but one by one, the Betrayer began eliminating those loyal to Cettia. It was silent, swift, and bloodless.”
Azrian swallows thickly and tries to get even closer to Kato. “And Cettia’s Dawn?”
“Murdered by Inais himself,” he says quietly. “On the last day, Cettia’s Dawn sent out a plea to Cettia, but she couldn’t reach him in time. The Betrayer had him nearly beat as it was, but Inais showed up and it was over. He was murdered and left here to rot with those he failed to protect. I don’t know why Inais and the Betrayer didn’t take Dawnreaper, and neither does Cettia. It’s a mystery that’s plagued her for centuries and me for the better part of the last decade. They failed to retrieve the Atarax that day, so common sense says they should’ve grabbed the next best thing, but they didn’t. The only thing we can figure is that something or someone interrupted them.”
“The group that trapped everyone in the mountain, maybe?” Kato asks.
Hanigen smirks, but it’s weighed down by regret. “That group went on to become the first of the Regnum. So, it’s possible, though I haven’t done too much research into their beginning other than this. Sometime after the Monseri were wiped out, the Prael warriors fell under the command of Auctor and Inais, and it took a shockingly short amount of time for them to dispatch nearly every living being on this planet. Their final targets were the Braeven, the only race at the time with deeply rooted magic of their own. Inais stole that magic and gifted it to the Prael, and... I’m sure you can guess what happened from there. The Braeven were wiped out, leaving the Prael sole control of Athoze. Over generations, those stolen powers manifested into what you know today. Oculare, Terrare, Igneme... they became the Praediti. During those years, there were no Regnum — just chaos and lawlessness. But with time came the introduction of humans — Praediti born with no magical abilities to speak of. If you think humans have it bad now, you should’ve seen things back then. None of you would believe the cruelty they faced. Some Praediti, however, saw things the way you do. They reformed the Regnum, used their gifts to rebuild the mountain’s exterior and made this their home. They left Caer Adstrin untouched in reverence of those that lost their lives, but despite the disastrous consequences of the first Regnum’s decisions, they felt that they played a vital role in stopping the whole of Athoze from being destroyed by the gods. They never knew it was a hoax. They carved the faces of the first Regnum into the walls of this mountain and made it their home, and—”
“And now things have come full circle,” Kato says in a blunt tone. “The Regnum are finally in the possession of the Atarax after all these centuries, and we handed it to them.” His grip tightens around Azrian and he stiffens, concern and alarm etched in his features. “Will they use it for what they say they will? Or have we made a grievous mistake?”
Hanigen clicks his tongue. “That’s the question, isn’t it? What do any of us do with the gifts or curses we’re given? We use them, and not always to the betterment of others. If you’re asking me specifically if they’ll use the Atarax to build a prison, I’d like to think so, especially since they discovered it won't answer to any but Azrian. Neginah would rebel in ways you can’t imagine if they didn’t. But who they will place in that prison, well... that’s a different story entirely. I don’t know, so don’t ask.”
Stuck between trying not to press and not letting the wealth of information slip away, Azrian asks, “Is there anything else you do know?”
“What kind of a question is that? I know a lot of things, but I think I’ve given you two enough to digest for one day. You know about the sword and city now, at least.”
“Not really,” Az says quickly. “About the sword... what should we do with it? Aleon found it, does that mean it chose him or something? Should we give it back?”
“That’s ultimately up to you, but I’d advise against it. Aleon is a good person with pure intentions, but he’s not Videre. He wasn’t chosen by Cettia to carry this burden, you were. And correct me if I’m wrong, but even though Aleon picked Dawnreaper up, it was calling to you, was it not? Like the Atarax?”
Azrian blushes deeply. He wouldn’t have believed that Dawnreaper was calling him if it weren’t for the repeat performance while they searched for the Atarax, but he’s not ready to discuss that with anyone but Kato or Cettia herself. “It was given to me because Kato loves me, I’m the only Videre of the group, and also the only blacksmith with any training handling a sword,” he says.
“No.” Kato puts a hand on his back and meets his gaze. “He’s right. All Aleon did was pick it up. It didn’t respond to him, Azzy. I’ve always told you that you were worthy.”
A mountain of unwanted responsibility settles onto Azrian’s shoulders. “So, what... does this make me Cettia’s Dawn or something? Am I supposed to take that sword and... what, kill Syphon? A god? What’s this even about?”
“I can’t answer that for you, Azrian,” Hanigen says. “That’s between you and Cettia. Do I think you’re Cettia’s Dawn? No, not really. It’s nothing personal, but I don’t think Cettia will ever allow herself to get that attached to someone else again. His loss nearly undid her. But do I think she needs you and that you have a larger role yet to play? Absolutely. She wouldn’t have sent that valianis to just anyone, nor would Dawnreaper react to any Videre. There are bigger things at play here.”
“If you say one word about a prophecy..”
“Shadows, no,” Hanigen laughs. “I don’t deal in prophecy. They’re too hard to decipher and there are too many things that can alter them. No, I go by what I’ve seen, what I feel, and what the gods deign to tell me. It just happens that I know more about this particular topic than anyone else alive.”
“Why do they tell you anything?” Kato asks, but there’s no rudeness in his words.
Hanigen squints. “Because I ask.”
“Yeah, Kato,” Azrian teases. “He asks. Didn’t you know it was that simple to get ancient, all-powerful gods to tell you their secrets?”
“Yeah, sounds simple enough. How about you show me some more secrets, Azzy? I still have so much to learn,” he growls, leaning in to nip Azrian’s bottom lip. Az has to laugh at the wild inaccuracy of that statement, but Hanigen takes it to be a little deeper.
“Seems to me like you two have had about enough for one day, and I think I’m about to wear out my welcome, is that right?” Hanigen asks sheepishly.
As much as Azrian wants to ask more questions, he knows he just learned more in an hour than he has his entire life, and Kato’s hands are starting to become distracting. “Yeah... I’m sorry, Hanigen. Thank you for everything, we’ve really learned a lot. I’ll make sure to move that sword before we go to sleep.”
“Dawnreaper, Azrian. You don’t want to offend it now that you know its true name,” he says cryptically. Azrian doesn’t want to contemplate how someone could possibly offend a piece of metal, nor what would happen if they managed it.
He agrees to be more careful about the name and watches as Hanigen leaves the Hall of the King, then pivots to straddle Kato. “Guess this gives a whole new meaning to
the ‘princess’ thing, huh?” he asks, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Wanna stay here a bit before we go up to bed? We already missed dinner by a mile.”
“My dinner is right here in my lap. No amount of coins could get me to move from under you, Princess. We’re staying right here.”
Azrian’s stomach flips in ways he didn’t realize were possible, but his Videre light glows brighter in response. “And I thought no amount of coins could get me to say something cheesy like ‘let me serve you,’ but here we are,” Az deadpans. “I’m still not going to say it, but now you know I mean it. I guess that means we’re staying.”
15 The Choice
“That’s definitely not being taught in school.” Ronan frowns, realizing these are the stories that should be passed down. “Can I come with you next time?”
Kato looks to Az but answers, “Yes. I think it would be good to see, but it is heavy, Rone.”
“I can handle it,” he says confidently, and Kato doesn’t doubt him in the slightest.
They spend some time wondering what the Monseri were like — what they did day to day, how they felt about the outside world since they kept themselves sequestered for so long, what they dreamed of. Ronan’s eyes light up as he makes guess after guess, but they're interrupted entirely too soon by Peilar. “Kato? Azrian? You need to come quickly.”
They jump up without question, warning Ronan not to touch the sword and rushing out with the Igneme.
“What’s happened?” Kato asks, easily keeping up with his strides.
“We got an avisim message. Syphon’s coming.”
Azrian trips but regains his balance quickly, jogging along next to them. “What? How–how close is he?”
“We’re not sure. Our sources say he’s preparing to attack now. It could mean minutes... hours... a day... the twins are working together now to get a better estimate of when.” They enter the council chamber to everyone yelling over each other. Exus walks up to them with his face twisted.
