by Jayden Woods
*
As he followed the rippling light of Kyne’s cloak, Sean continued contemplating all that had happened and all that might happen next. He had to kill Prince Kyne. He had no choice. He had delayed as long as possible, but he could feel Belazar’s power starting to drain him even as it strengthened him. It fed him energy while depleting his own physical resources. Eventually it would feed off Sean’s own body if Sean did not deliver the life he’d promised. Or, if it came to that, Sean suspected he might lose the will to control his body first. Belazar might use his body as an instrument to take the prince for himself. Sean was not sure which would happen, but he knew that Belazar—if Belazar was truly a conscious entity—would not stay patient much longer.
“This is it,” said Prince Kyne. He stood at the door of the dungeons, the key in his hand, trembling.
Sean released the bundle and stared curiously at the face of the door. It was made of stone, yet carved and smoothed with incredible skill. The shapes of serpents and vines flowed in and out of the stone, like living bodies that had been frozen in time. One large tiger roamed amongst them, as did a wolf. The tiger’s roaring mouth opened into the gap of the keyhole.
Then Sean noticed a mask hanging from the wall next to the door. He flinched and drew back, for the mask was in the gaudy shape of a wolf. At some point, the ceramic had been broken into several pieces, then pasted back together.
Prince Kyne followed his gaze. “That’s the mask of the Wolven who tried to kill me,” said the prince. “Fayr killed him, put his mask back together, and hung it here so we’d never forget about him.”
Sean’s fingers dug fiercely into the fabric of the tapestry. He had wondered once what could have defeated his father in a place like this. Now he understood. Princess Fayr had been his father’s undoing, and she would be Sean’s, if he was not careful.
“Unlock the fucking door,” said Sean.
Kyne flinched at his tone, but finally moved. He stuck the key in the hole and twisted.
The door clicked. Kyne pushed and the door swung inward with a tremendous groan.
Kyne and Sean stared down into a long, dark passage. Kyne turned his finger in a circle and whispered a prayer to Friva.
Sean took a torch from the wall and handed it to Kyne. Then he grabbed one for himself. “Go on,” said Sean. “Move your feet.”
Gulping, Kyne moved forward.
As soon as the light of the torch struck the dark passage, the walls came alive with sparkling light. The material here seemed to be the same smooth, glassy stonework found in the Violenese construction of Friva’s Hall of Feasts. Furthermore, it seemed covered with a permanent layer of safra, twinkling all around them with radiance. If not for the floor under their feet, Sean would have thought they walked through a midnight sky, thick with glowing stars.
“Wow ...” Kyne had come to a stop again.
“Keep moving!” Sean’s voice boomed through the passage followed by a hundred echoes. Kyne had little choice but to obey.
They kept walking downward for an imperceptible amount of time. Sean felt that his breath was ragged, his muscles weary, though he couldn’t explain why. He felt parched from his mouth to his throat. His eyes burned and he wished desperately to pull out his lenses. Perhaps he would soon. Soon, it wouldn’t matter anyway.
“Look,” said Kyne, pointing further downward. “There’s light. Do you see it?”
Sean nodded. Indeed, far down the spiraling blackness of the passage, a soft white light glowed below. They kept moving towards it, though Sean’s feelings of dread increased. Whatever strange power lurked below, it seemed a far cry from any with which he was familiar.
Kyne walked into the light first, gasping with awe as he entered an open chamber. The torches were entirely unnecessary here. Stone columns thrust from the floor ending with white, glowing crystals. The crystals grew organically from the stone, their inward light rippling like veins through the columns themselves. Within the pillars was a round platform, etched with intricate designs of snakes, tigers, and wolves like the door to the dungeons. Around all this, the chamber opened up and outward in a dome-like shape. A hole at the top led up into the earth, and probably eventually to the heavens above.
All around the platform, piles of safra dust glittered in the light.
“I didn’t expect it to be so beautiful,” breathed Kyne.
Ignoring the prince, Sean moved past, dragging the bundle onto the open platform. It seemed like the most obvious place to put it. Next he unwrapped the tapestry and pushed the bodies onto the stone.
“Wait—I didn’t tell you to do that yet!”
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
Kyne scowled at him. “Finish up, then.”
Sean finished, then threw the tapestry aside. As quickly as he could, he got off the platform. Something about standing on it made him uncomfortable. He stood fidgeting, finding it impossible to stay still. His muscles twitched and his stomach growled. “What next?” he snapped.
Kyne set down his torch and unrolled the Safra Script with trembling fingers. “I know we have to burn the bodies. But I’m not sure if I say the words before or after.”
“Burn them?” said Sean. After all the mystery, this seemed like such a simple solution. He couldn’t believe that was all there was to it. “Try saying the words first, just in case.”
“Yeah … I guess you’re right.” Kyne held the script up to the light and proceeded with a tremulous voice. His tongue stumbled over the strange and unknown syllables. “Tula trein devoro dil Bargind margis, ganza devrein di Friva kisten regla scritept dil Violinese bloodor, Kyne Violeni.”
Sean felt as if a shock went through him. He stumbled back to the wall and remained there, clutching it. He watched as the light of the crystals brightened, then splintered into differing shades of color. Illumination poured through the columns and lit the platform with divine light. The blood of the bodies sizzled and smoked against the phosphorescence.
Sean didn’t know how, but he had understood every word from Kyne’s mouth. As the three gods of the Bargain have agreed, let the power of Friva pay heed to the words of the Violenese progeny, Kyne Violeni.
Unaware of Sean’s discomfort, Kyne continued with his awkward speech. “Unz, ganza ignickun di Belazar yollee frem u devorgan.”
White flames erupted from the platform and crept over the bodies.
Sean groaned and curled inward. His muscles twitched and his eyes felt as if they were on fire. Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right … First may the flames of Belazar rise forth to consume you, Kyne had said.
“Krenzi u morde ...”
Sean yelled and clawed at his eyes. He ripped the brown lenses off, one by one, then flung them to the floor.
“D-Darius? What’s wrong?” Kyne turned to look at him, his teeth chattering with fear. On the platform, the white hot flames crept on the dead bodies, searing their clothes and flesh. Sean could almost feel what the flames did, as if their hot touch sent a signal through his own fingers. The flesh they consumed was supposed to be warm and full of sensation, not cold and dead.
Sean groaned and fell to his knees. He clawed at his hair, as if that would make the terrible feeling in his fingers go away. “They’re supposed to be alive,” he growled at last. “They’re supposed to be alive!”
“I … I ...” Kyne seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, himself. “I don’t know what else to do! I should finish, at least.” He licked his lips and turned back to the script. “Krenzi u morde, solu dil hapya, eedor copa shaporinz dil frivol koren donu.” Cross the line into oblivion, souls of the hapless, while your bodies take the shape of the joy stolen from you.
“You … fucking … idiot!” Sean rushed forth, grabbed Prince Kyne, and flung him to the stony floor. Billows of loose safra flew from their struggling shapes. The heat of the hungry flames singed their skin with its intensity.
Sean pinned Kyne and looked down at him. He knew his
eyes blazed as red as ever, for he could now see with the full strength of a Wolven—and perhaps Belazar himself. He could see the veins flowing under Kyne’s skin. He could feel the hastening beat of his heart. He could smell the wave of fear rushing from him as he stared into the eyes of his killer.
Kyne started to scream. Sean clamped his mouth easily with one hand. With the other, he pulled a throwing star from his tunic. The prince thrashed and tried to bite Sean’s hand with his teeth, to no avail.
Sean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Now, at last, he would get the relief he desired. “Tula margis,” he said, “afithi fenturus zentaya.”
He swept the blade across Kyne’s throat. He held the prince down through his most desperate writhing to the moment he went still. He dipped his fingers in the blood, then licked the sweet redness away. “Kyne Violeni, krenzi u morde ah Belazar.”
Prickling heat spread through Sean’s limbs. At the same time, the white flames of the platform snuffed out. Darkness filled the chamber but for the faint red light of the torches. Sean breathed raggedly as Belazar moved through him, taking what Sean had promised him.
Sean closed his eyes and saw a wall of golden flames lick the blackness of his eyelids. A wolf with fur like tar walked through the blaze, its eyes glowing red. The wolf looked at Sean, and Sean knew he had a choice.
Belazar was pleased with him. No words were needed for Sean to understand this. He could see it in the wolf’s gaze, though the wolf made no sound. I feared you would disappoint me, the wolf seemed to say. But you gave me what I most desired. Now only one remains. Promise her to me, Sean Wolven, and I will give you the whole of my power.
Sean blinked away the vision. He shook his head, swallowed the blood, and felt as if a bucket of cold water dashed over him. The sight of the wolf went away, and the cold black of the chamber rushed in to replace it.
Sean stood up with Kyne’s dead body in his arms. The weight of it surprised him; while he still possessed unusual strength, it was not the power to rip off metal with his bare hands, or drag five dead bodies without feeling any strain. He felt the weariness of all he had done since last night, combined with the exhaustion of having no sleep or food. He tossed Kyne’s body onto the platform with the others. He pulled the key from Kyne’s neck and stuffed it into his tunic. Then he picked up the torch and set the bodies ablaze.
There was nothing divine about the flames now consuming the corpses. Thick black smoke arose from their curling clothes and bubbling flesh. A terrible stench rolled out of the conflagration. No Haze would come out of this fire: only the stink of rotting flesh.
Sean picked up the Safra Script, considering what to do with it. By keeping it, he could help save Dearen. Fayr could learn her ancestor’s secret and maintain the precious Haze. But was that what she really wanted to do? Fayr despised safra to begin with, and if not, she would despise it even more when she realized how to make it. The decision would be painful no matter what she chose. Sean could spare her from that anguish.
The Wolven smashed the script into a ball and flung it into the fire. Then he turned and walked out of the dungeons, hoping never to return.
