Keepers of the Crown

by Lydia Redwine

  “And I wish I could have told you sooner.”

  Peter tilted his head, eyeing the people before them. “Who will you tell?”

  Cam scanned the room and the faces. Ilea already knew as well as Fiera and Adria and Cole. “Amelia, you, Saffira...yes, Saffira.” Her leg had healed while they had been in Mingroth, and she had been awaiting them with the Lumenbirds when they came out. “Caleb, Lia…” Her eyes fell on bronze, curly hair and sea green eyes. “Joel too. He came with us, in search of the same thingwewerelookingfor. Heshouldknowthat it wasn’t all done in vain.”

  “What about Owen?” Peter queried.

  Cam shifted. “I don’t know, Peter. It doesn’t feel quite...right to tell him just yet.” Her eyes continued scanning the room. And she saw one more face. A face framed with silvery hair with two shining blue eyes. “Heiron too, Peter.” Something choking lifted into her throat at the sight of Imber Fel’s former leader. He had nothing now, it seemed. His realm nothing but charred ruins. And his daughter…

  Well, she must have died all those months ago.

  Peter nodded just as Cam’s gaze snagged on her father who was motioning his head towards an open doorway and another room. Cam counted them as they entered the next room quietly. “Ilea, Adria, Fiera, Cole, Peter, Caleb, Saffira, Lia, Joel, Heiron. Ten. And one more.” Immanuel entered last. “Many of you have heard word of the prophecies of those known as the Protectors and the other Watchers,” Cole began in a voice loud enough for them to hear but low enough that it wouldn't attract the attention of those beyond the walls. “These Watchers, over the ages that have passed in the birth of this realm, have seen a day when the Savior would come to us bearing the key to unlocking the door concealing the Crown of Caelae. When in Mingroth not too long ago, five persons collected these prophecies and protected them. You yourselves have met some of them, though by now they have passed on. Except for one.”

  Cole motioned towards Ilea.

  For a briefinstant, Cam’s eyes flickered to Immanuel. He was huddled, not in fear, in a corner, his bright, large eyes fixated upon her. Cam’s voice broke into the silence. “My sister, Terra, knew the whereabouts of the Crown. She knew everything. And now...I know everything.”

  She told of the memory, but only of the part where Terra and Grandfather had discussed where the Crown was. But she did not forget about the young boy in their midst.

  ColepickedupwhereCam endedwith, “Anditis our duty now to protect the Crown of Caelae, for Lucius himself, the prince of this very realm seeks to take it for himself. If he has in his possession the Crown of Caelae, The Ever-Reaching Realm becomes his, and the Savior will not save.”

  Silence passed in which each one of them considered Cole’s and Cam’s words in the solitude of their own minds. Finally, a voice spoke up. Joel. “So, you knew where the Crown was this entire time? Even when youweretellingSilva youdidn’t know. It wasn’t a lie at all.”

  Cam shook her head. “No, it was a lie. I did not know where the Crown was until I stepped foot into this very castle. But, I didknowwhoandwheretheSavior was onceweleft Silva’s stronghold.” Cam’s gaze fell on Peter whose mouth had dropped open. He stuttered. The boy was approaching on silent feet. Cam could feel His presence nearing her and the warmth that surged through her veins the closer He came.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Immanuel, Elyon with us.”

  The castle was dead; dead and standing, because part of Elyon

  was within it and so was His magic.

  The boy held her hand, keeping her unusually warm.

  They walked the length of the halls, and Cam could nearly feel

  Terra’s presence in this place. It was warm andbeautiful and not

  anything like the cold haunting shadows she had encountered all

  those months ago before she had been banished.

  “It’s all so quiet here,” Cam murmured as the boy

  squeezed

  Remnant

  descended to the lowest level of the castle.

  Cam groped in the room below until she stumbled into

  the door. Her hand was splayed across the wood and it was

  warm, firm, the color of hope. She knew this feeling. It had been

  so long ago, it seemed when she had come down here for food for

  their dinner one night after learning of Apollyon’s corruption.

  The day she had felt the unusual warmth in the door. It had

  frightened her. But now, her heart lifted and surged with tingling

  warmth.

  A small, silver key dangled from Immanuel’s finger.

  “Have no fear, Camaria. All is for the glory of My Father.” He

  inserted the key, rotating it until a click reached their ears. The door moved silently, swaying slightly on its hinges. She saw the shaft of light, a small set of rays upon a white

  cloth. The cloth was on the floor, collecting dust. Upon it was

  hope. Upon it was also dread and pain.

  “Well hello, old friend,” Ilea said from behind Cam. “It’s

  been a long time.”

  “Thorns. How fitting,” Cam murmured. No onereached for

  the Crown. They all simply stared. “We had to go all the way to

  Mingroth and back and have our homeland shattered to find this her hand. All those comprising the Remaining were fast asleep when Cam, Ilea, and the boy when we could have come down here at any given moment.”

  Cam’s expression was grim as she shook her head in disbelief. “Not without the key,” Ilea reminded her.

  Cam stepped forward. She glanced at the boy, asking

  permission to touch it. He nodded. “Anyone can touch it. When

  the day comes, My oppressors, themselves will be the ones to put

  it on My head.”

  Cam laughed softly. “You sound insane.” The boy only

  shrugged, smiling slightly. Cam’s fingers grazed the Crown. She

  noted its construction. It was hard like iron beneath her

  fingertips, but she could not name the material. It glowed from

  within, an aspect of metals this realm did not possess. They were

  entwined, wrapped together. The crown certainly did not look

  appealing, comfortable, or fit for a king, but it held hope and

  immense power. Cam could feel its magic tingling, rushing

  through her body. Her spirit stirred until it was dancing. Cam looked to the boy once more.

  This boy, this child, this king and Savior and prince

  would one day die.

  “For me. For all of us.”

  Every part of her body exploded in a yearning ache. She

  fell to her knees, tears welling in her eyes. “For me...for Terra,

  for Mista, for…”

  The boy’s eyes held tears too. The Savior was crying. And

  smiling. “Dear Daughter,” he said softly.

  Cam laughed, the sound hysterical. The Seekers had

  finally found the crown. And now, they would need to protect it.

  “‘Seekers’ seems hardly fitting anymore. Don’t you think?” Ilea was tearyeyed and laughing too. She nodded. “We

  are…” Cam thought for a moment before finally saying, “The

  Keepers of the Crown.”

  Immanuel stepped forward and took Cam’s hands in his

  own. “You are being saved.”

  “There used to be a time when Elyon spoke to man through pillars of smoke, through fire and through people such as the Watchers. But then in the time He called the Silence, He spoke only through the Watchers. His people would not listen to the Watchers. They would not hear their words or their songs. But Elyon will speak again, in the voice of the Savior.”

  -Daniel Adriel

  Thirty-Eight

  “Let’sgo for a walk,” Peter said.

  Cam looked up at him from where she lay in the middle of the ballroom. She had not gone to her own room. It didn’
t seem likeit was hers anymore. Shehadn’t been ableto sleep, and Peter had seen that. She glanced at his leg. Walking didn’t seem like a good option for him, but he was holding out a hand for her to take. She rose, her hand in his.

  “I think it is time, Cam, for you to face everything.” His voice was soft.

  She turned quizzical eyes towards him. But she did not ask. He knew everything. “Did Fiera tell you?”

  He nodded, his expression filled with emotion. “But I wish you had. When did you start?”

  She led him up the stairs silently and passed through the shadowed hall. Gently, she opened a door and stepped through. Vines lined the walls. A window was open, and silken curtains fluttered in the dusk’s breeze. The bed was still made but laden with dust. A trunk was open at the foot of the bed and inside were neatly folded piles of clothing.

  “Terra’s room,” she said. Peter stopped and scanned his eyes over the room. “This is where it started.” The ache in Cam’s chest bloomed. Her words were choked as hot tears burned her eyes. “Onenightafter I finallycamehereafter Apollyon was gone and everything, I slept in here. And then when it became too much, I drank an entire bottle of whiskey from the cellar. It helped me sleep.”

  Peter turned to face her, his hands on her arms. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “And it helped me sleep all the nights after that. At first, it was nothing. Just warmth and oblivion. But…eventually, I needed it so that I wouldn't throw up or feel sick. And every now and then I was able to force myself to give it up but…” Cam’s lips trembled as she clutched at Peter.

  He pulled her into his arms. “Cam,” he whispered. “Oh, Cam.” And his voice was enough. His arms were enough that crying didn’t hurt as much. Being in Terra’s room didn’t hurt as much.

  At last, she pulled away, her tears shining in the moonlight now streaming through the window. “There is more I want to see. And do.” Peter nodded.

  First, Cam entered each room in the house, found the vase of now dying roses and crushed each petal in her hand. She did it in Silva’s old sitting room and in Grandfather’s study and in the bedroom that Adria and Mista had shared. And finally, she entered the ballroom where almost a year ago this had all begun.

  Cam smiled. “Fiera met Caleb here.” Peter followed her silently. He merely watched as she crushed each rose and left it as dust in her wake. And finally, they were at the back door overlooking the garden and the fallen tree.

  “One more place,” she said. She turned to Peter. His eyes were soft and searching. “I wish to see my grandfather’s grave.”

  The gravestone was at the side of the house, and he wasn’t even buried there. Who was to know where his body had gone? Probably eaten by rats in that filthy dungeon. Cam shuddered. The air was cold and damp.

  Peter’s warm hand was still in hers. “Do you ever wonder…” he started, his eyes scanning the forest before them absentmindedly, "What would have happened had Apollyon never revolted but you had still become Royal? All of course in the perspective that your parents hadn't been traitors either."

  Cam's lips lifted in a small smile despite the dire end of Peter's question. "It would have taken us months to be friends, I think. You would have kept pestering me to join you and the Spirit Followers. Everything would have taken a lot longer..."

  Peter's thumb brushed her knuckles. "I won't do that anymore, Cam. I won't push you when you know better otherwise."

  Cam glanced at Peter with a small smile. "Thank you." She tilted her head. "Thank you for being my best friend."

  Peter glanced quickly at her and laughed, the sound hesitant and shaky yet pleased. He scratched his neck. "Best friend?" His eyes fell to the ground as a small smile lifted his lips.

  Cam wondered for a fraction of a second if he was disappointed. Maybe "friend" made him think there was some sort of limit. "It is the best title I can ever grant you," Cam returned at last. Peter's gaze lifted to meet her own. Cam shuffled a foot against the brown, fallen leaves. “Because if you are my best friend, it means we'll last. Through anything.”

  Peter's smile was small and heartwarming. Cam rested her head on his shoulder, held his hand, and closed her eyes. Her attention closed on the warmth of him beside her and the soft breeze on her face. She could imagine for a moment that the future was no nightmare, only a dream they held for themselves.

  Cam crept into a room which was vacated and in shambles. But

  she didn’t mind the mess. She sank to the floor, her mother’s diary in her hand. And for the first time, she brushed the parchment with her fingertips and her shuddering breath without the cold of a cell pressing around her.

  Her tears dropped to the pages as she read. And remembered for her mother.

  Tyron is gone, and I can feel myself splintering. He told me he lovedme, but he doesn’t. He is in lovewith me, yes, but he doesn’t really even know what real love is. He thinks he does, and I think he grasps glimmers of it. He said to me, “Think of it, Cassia, me the heir of this whole realm, of our home! And you, the finest of its warriors at my side.” It is a lovely thought, but it is a dangerous one. It would poison me, giving into that pride even if it means salvaging what I already have with Tyron. I do love him. And at times, I have found myself to be in love with him. But, in the end, I love Elyon more, and that is not something he can understand. I will not be with someone who finds themselves jealous of what has created me.

  She turned more pages, the words beginning to blur. Tyron, Cinis Lumen, the magic, Amelia, the forests, the training. It was all colorful, living. Breathing into Cam. But...she saw a name, and her heart nearly stopped.

  Cole Caddell is the name of the young, infuriating man that has been our guide throughout Gnosi. I say “infuriating” because he is the most audacious flirt while also happening to be quite intelligent and bearing the features of a god. That is, if I believed in the gods that those from Caranthia claim as their deities. The one possessing beauty not quite fit for humans. Not Shadow Bearers, just...annoyingly beautiful. And such is Cole Caddell. And today, he knelt on the mountain and told us to breathe. “Elyon is here,” he said. And for once, I haven’t felt like strangling him.

  Cam laughed. The sound was quiet as she held a hand against her mouth. “Just like Fiera and Caleb. Does he know about this?” She thought to her father. Had he ever read any of this? Several pages later, she was still laughing and then beginning to cry again. Tears of happiness streamed over her cheeks.

  Today I taught a song to Cole, one I had heard in my own homeland from the Spirit Followers. I sang it with my eyes closed. I always sing it with my eyes closed, for I am singing to Elyon, and Cole’s face is a distraction. When I opened my eyes, there were tears in Cole’s. Then his hands were on my arms, and then his hands cupping my face. And then he was kissing me. And I still wonder now if all of the magic of my homeland was infused in my veins, for I felt more alive than I have ever felt before.

  Cam smiled. Warmth surged through every fiber of her being. She clutched the book to her chest and believed that she needed nothing else at that moment.

  The scream sounded first. The sounds were slit. They fell like

  shattered glass. What Peter saw he supposed at first was of a nightmare. He thought he was dreaming, but found he was shaking Cam by the shoulders. “Cam!” he shouted. “You need to run…” She rose and walked with a dazed expression, one which contorted in an attempt to register what was happening. Peter glanced once again through the jagged shards of glass protruding from the edges of the window. The color of chaos greeted him.

  The sky and air were both painted dark purple. Figures danced, flickered like blue flames in the night through the parting fog. One held a young woman who had emerged to release waist only a few moments before. Her neck was broken. Blood dripped over her throat.

  Cam stumbled back, colliding into him. Joel was at his side. Fiera appeared a second later looking fierce and grim. “Of all times to disturb us, while we sleep.” Peter was not thinking of the time but of whom
. They were Shadow Bearers of the air. That much was certain. They flitted in their long cloaks with distorted, rigid faces in the night air, coming to land upon the ground. They surrounded the castle.

  “Why aretheyhere?” Cam was asking. Peter turned, his eyes flitting to Immanuel who was leaning against a wall. “For me,” the boy said simply. “They are hunting me. It is one of the prophecies.” “Hush boy. Why would they want you?” a woman reprimanded. Peter knew, however, that the child spoke the truth. And the Crown. They were hunting for the Crown as well.

  “Shadow Bearers!” Cole announced, affirming Peter’s previous assumption. “Whoever has sent them wants us dead. We must flee.”

  “And find refuge where?” someone queried. “Our home is gone!”

  “Nazeria,” Cold said. “Allies can be found there.” Peter nodded. He came closer, resting his hands on

  Cam’s shoulders. “Caleb and Owen have been sent to gather the Lumenbirds.”

  “And the Crown?” Cam asked. Peter nodded. “It’s exactly where it should be.” They had decided what to do with it hours before. The timing had been impeccable.

  “Led by Elyon,” Peter heard Cam murmurer. Immanuel was near as well. With one last look at the boy, Cam nodded at Peter, the signal that she heard the Lumenbirds approaching. Peter pulled her against his chest and held her for a brief moment. When he pulled away, he walked with leaden steps towards the opening in the castle. The door creaked open, swaying on unstable hinges. Cool night air struck his face.

  The Lumenbird with Caleb upon its back soared past him so closely that it nearly knocked him from his feet. Those of the Remaining Remnant were spilling out around Peter, scrambling over fallen trees and flickering flames. They fled for their lives.

  He cast a glance over his shoulder as Cam’s and Caleb’s Lumenbird shot into the night sky. Ilea was now a yard from the castle with Immanuel at her side. Even as the Shadow Bearers summoned winds and flame from the scaly hands, the castle of Medulla stood firm.