by Jun Eishima
And so you would take the easy way? The coward’s path?
Somnus scoffed. Why should ease be equated with cowardice? His was the way most just. He would not choose whom to deliver or cast aside from among those touched by the scourge. He would not foster despair and envy in those condemned to a horrid death. No one would be forced to wonder why they had been abandoned when others were not.
It was cold, yes. But it was fair.
Somnus stood to leave.
“Lord Caelum, shall I accompany you?”
He did not turn but replied, “Stay. I’ll not need an escort.”
The woman he sought would be in the sanctuary, the gods’ words perhaps gracing her ears at this very moment. Aera, the Oracle. Aera, the woman of his brother’s heart. Somnus needed to speak with her, and with haste. He had to ascertain the truth and then plot his course.
Somnus clenched his hands into fists. The thoughts hung heavy in his heart. But there was no other choice. It was something he needed to see through, even if it meant dirtying his own hands.
“I shall not ask forgiveness,” he vowed to himself. “Nor do I expect to ever receive it.”
Far beyond the fields of wheat rose a column of black smoke. Ardyn looked upon it, his expression strained. It was not hard to imagine what was burning there.
How could anyone be so callous?
In truth, he knew the answer to his query all too well. To Somnus, the innocents burning in the distance were no longer people. Perhaps the man even saw Ardyn as one among the monsters now. It would explain how easily he justified sending men to hunt down and kill his own brother.
The previous day had brought another close call. A single night’s lodging, in a town already cleared of the scourge, and still the soldiers came. Ardyn had underestimated Somnus, and it had almost proved to be his undoing. The younger Caelum seemed to keep watch everywhere. Perhaps no settlement, no matter how small, was safe.
Fortunately, Ardyn had seen the dust kicked up in the distance by the soldiers’ approach, and he ran. There was no doubt in his mind that had he tarried a moment longer, he would now be in custody, dragged back to the castle like a dog to be thrown at his brother’s feet. It was the people’s regard for him that kept him unharmed; they’d shown him a safe route, and he’d fled deep into the cover of the nearby woods.
Through the dim light beneath the trees, Ardyn ran like a beast hunted, until at last, when his strength gave out and he was unable to push his legs any farther, he huddled in the hollow trunk of a great sentinel of the forest. There, he waited for his pursuers to abandon their search. It was nearly dawn before he heard the distant piercing cry of a captain’s whistle and the woods were finally free of the soldiers.
He continued to hide for some time, huddled motionless in his paltry shelter of bark . . . Oh, how weary he felt. The past few days had been spent healing several unfortunates deep in the clutches of the scourge, and that had taken its toll.
At the root of the plague they knew as the Starscourge was some manner of parasite.
Somehow, it found its way into hosts, where it wreaked its havoc. Eventually, the hosts lost their minds to the scourge. Those gone that far were pronounced daemons and reviled.
But thanks to the blessing of the gods, Ardyn’s hands knew how to draw out the root of the scourge. They pulled the darkness from the victim’s body and brought it into Ardyn’s own. Cleared of the disease, the patients regained consciousness. Their skin, once black as jet and exuding the scourge’s dark miasma, would regain its former hue. And Ardyn would carry on, host to another bit of scourge himself.
He was no stranger to the experience of the disease. In fact, he may have understood it more fully than anyone else. In addition to the ability to absorb it, the gods had given him a mind unaffected by the scourge’s insidious influence. They had not, however, seen fit to bless him also with the power to cleanse himself. The scourge ever remained, never lessened, simply drawn from others and into him. Each time Ardyn saved another soul, he was forced to accept that pain and suffering as his own.
At first, he’d felt no more than a faint malaise. But with time, it grew to become a most unpleasant sensation and then finally a clear and piercing agony. The larger the swarm of organisms within him, the harder they were to suppress. They thrashed about until he thought they might tear a hole through his skin. They felt alive, like some manner of parasite worming inside him.
For now, the scourge remained in check. But he knew not whether his body would continue to hold as he drew yet more in.
What can a single man hope to accomplish? Somnus’s words clawed at his mind. All too well did he know the loneliness of his struggle. How many more victims would he be able to heal before he succumbed? How long would he be able to endure the pain?
What will you do for the towns you are too late to save? When the land is full of daemons, will you continue to try to treat them one by one?
Once more, Ardyn cast his gaze across the fields of wheat, at the smoke of countless lives brought to an end for naught more than the misfortune of having known the scourge. First beaten and abused, now they were reduced to ash and scattered to the wind, with no rites spoken over them.
Ardyn shook his head. Such atrocities must not be allowed to go unanswered. He had to keep moving forward. There were people seeking his help. He was needed at their side.
He tried to rise and leave the shelter of the forest, determined to continue on his way. But his body, riddled with scourge, would not obey. He pitched forward, unable to throw out a hand in time to arrest his fall. And then he was on the ground, lying with his face in the dirt. No strength came to his limbs. He felt the tiny creatures squirming around beneath his skin. It was hard to draw breath.
Finally, his vision grew dark. Black. The same color as the daemons themselves . . .
“Stop, Lord Caelum!”
Somnus did not reply. He shoved the female attendant aside and put a hand on the sanctuary door.
“The Oracle mustn’t be disturbed! No one must interfere with the ritual!”
He brushed away another set of grasping hands and pushed his way inside. He knew the precepts. The Oracle was here, listening to the words of the gods in the hour of their people’s need, and she mustn’t be disturbed. He would dare to do so regardless.
As other lords voiced their support for House Caelum to lead the realm, the gods, too, sought to select a ruler from among the house’s men. An absolute sovereign to sit atop the throne of the world’s first kingdom. There were two candidates.
“Lord Caelum, please! You mustn’t!”
Somnus closed the door behind him, shutting out the attendant’s shrill cries. Aera, kneeling in prayer at the altar, lifted her head to see who had entered. Her expression was a mix of surprise and confusion.
“Hail, Oracle.”
At seeing Somnus, her features hardened with suspicion.
Somnus continued, unfazed. “What say the gods?”
Aera did not answer, so Somnus shifted his approach. “The Crystal, then?”
“The Crystal has no will of its own,” she finally replied, tone flat.
Did she intend to evade his questions? Perhaps she could see right through him. Or perhaps the Crystal had provided no answers. It mattered not. Neither would impede his plan.
“Spare me the nuances of its workings. I only care to hear the message.”
“ . . . Very well. If you desire it, Somnus, you shall have my trust . . . ”
Her gaze fell upon him, calm and true. Somnus met her eyes. He would not look away. He would deliver his words with confidence, even if they were riddled with lies.
“I am to be your brother in marriage. Need I desire to have your trust?”
Aera’s gaze grew more piercing yet. “I am the Oracle, tasked with making the will of the gods known.”
She paused, le
tting him feel the weight of what might transpire. She had a duty to uphold. The truths handed down by the gods were not something to divulge lightly.
“Of that I am well aware. I am not so bold as to defy the will of the gods. However . . . ”
Here, Somnus paused, at the point of no return.
No, he thought. I will not turn back. This is a decision already made.
“However,” he continued, “my brother’s whereabouts are currently unknown. The rift between us is of my own making, and if I do not see it bridged, the gods’ words shall fail to reach his ears. Surely you see how finding him would aid both my cause and his―as well as your own calling, Oracle.”
Her gaze had been so sharp, he thought it might bore straight into his skull and see the truth buried there. But his entreaty made it waver and fall. Somnus imagined the nights Area spent without sleep, wracked with worry for her beloved. The brief moment of uncertainty was all he needed.
“I would send for my brother,” Somnus announced.
“You know he would not come.”
“If my envoy bears a message from the gods, he will believe. He will come.”
Aera’s gaze lowered still farther. After a moment, she looked back up, staring directly into his eyes. She seemed to have reached a decision.
Ardyn awoke. His mind was thick with confusion. He found himself indoors, lying in a bed. The room felt vaguely familiar, and yet not.
“Oh, thank the gods. Lord Caelum, I’m so glad to see you awake.”
A young woman peered down at him. Her face, full of concern, jogged his memory. He’d been in this room several days ago. The same woman had lain here, hands and feet bound, growling like a wild animal. She had been badly afflicted with the scourge, and Ardyn had healed her.
“My father and I,” she said, “found you collapsed on the ground when we were on our way to town. You can imagine our surprise.”
Ardyn recalled fleeing from the troops sent by Somnus and concealing himself in the forest. But everything beyond that was blank. He must have wandered around blindly during that lost time, ending up near the same town from which he’d fled.
“You . . . saved me?” he asked.
“You give us far too much credit, milord. We merely loaded you onto our cart and brought you here. Pray forgive us such a crude means of transporting you.”
The woman’s shoulders slumped. Her cheeks, now back to their former healthy hue, flushed with embarrassment. Ardyn remembered their pallor after he’d removed the scourge. It had concerned him at the time, and he was glad to see her looking so well now. Back then, pale as she was, her parents’ eyes still had welled up with tears, overflowing with joy when they saw their daughter’s mind restored. That alone had been reward enough. Drawing in the Starscourge was a small price to pay in exchange for a chance to bring such happiness to others.
“I owe you a great debt for your kindness.”
“Not at all, milord,” she said with a smile. She’d taught him anew what it meant to help those who suffered. There was no time to laze about in bed. He had to move on. But when Ardyn tried to lift himself up, the world began to spin.
“Lord Caelum! Please, you mustn’t! You have yet to regain your strength!”
“There’s no time to wait,” he said. “So many others are out there, still in anguish . . . ”
“And in such a state, I’m afraid you’ll be of no use to them.”
“Nevertheless, I must go. I must help the people.”
The sound of armored boots treading the earth came from outside. The young woman’s parents burst through the door. Ardyn needed only to see the looks on their faces to know whose men were approaching.
“Hurry, milord!” the mother implored. “You must flee!”
“Troops from the castle. They’re almost upon us!”
Somnus’s men yet again. Ardyn managed to steady himself and rise to his feet. He cared not about preserving his own life, except that his death meant an end to the people’s only means of deliverance. He recalled the column of black smoke, and his heart grew heavy once more. He readied himself to face the troops, but the young woman slipped past his side and rushed outside first.
“What business have you here?” she demanded. “Lord Caelum is ill!”
She stood braced in the doorway, arms flung wide, showing no trace of fear despite the soldiers now surrounding the building. Her small frame exuded uncanny courage. No one gets past, she seemed to say. Not a step closer to Lord Caelum than where I stand.
Ardyn placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her back inside. She reminded him of Aera, though physically they did not look the least bit alike. It was the girl’s spirit, so like Aera’s on that day they’d vowed together to deliver the people from the scourge. When he’d seen that resolve in Aera, he’d felt that as long as she were with him, he’d be able to continue, no matter how difficult the journey grew.
“Lord Caelum?” the young woman asked.
“Please, that’s enough. You’ve done so much for me already.”
He would not burden this household any further. He could not bear the thought of their happiness being stripped away again so soon after he’d managed to restore it. They would not suffer on his behalf, even if that choice meant suffering of his own.
“But, milord!”
“I will not forget your kindness to me,” he said, and walked through the doorway, each step unsteady.
Outside, he caught sight of a banner emblazoned with that all-too-familiar crest. Beneath it stood men in armor bearing the same. He could have never imagined the day would come when the symbol of his own house would signify the enemy.
What order had Somnus issued? Kill on sight? Or perhaps he wanted his brother taken alive, to be brought captive back to the castle?
The men did neither.
“Lord Ardyn Lucis Caelum, son of House Caelum!”
Ardyn could not believe what he was seeing. These were the same men who had chased him through the dark of the woods one night prior. Now they knelt before him.
“Last night, the word of the gods was heard. Ardyn Lucis Caelum, you have been chosen to serve as king!”
A cheer rose up around them. Ardyn realized that the villagers had been watching the exchange from afar.
The members of House Caelum and their retinues were gathered in the Crystal’s sanctuary. All were present, from Somnus and Aera down to the lowest-ranked soldier, all in full ceremonial garb.
“Lord Ardyn Lucis Caelum, son of House Caelum!”
The ranks lifted their swords in unison. The crowd opened a path for Ardyn as he approached the Crystal’s altar.
Somnus, kneeling at the forefront, abruptly stood.
“That will be enough. The charade stops here.”
Somnus wore a look Ardyn had never seen before―one he would not have believed possible of his stubbornly fair-minded younger brother.
“I’m ashamed to call you my kin,” Somnus began. “Is there no low to which you will not stoop? You flee and cower in the shadows, then stride back here as if you were a hero. Do you truly covet the throne so desperately?”
Ardyn was stunned. It was his brother who had sent the men and their message. The same men who had, not a day earlier, been out to take Ardyn’s life. Who was Somnus to speak like this?
“I was merely on a journey to heal the people,” Ardyn said. “I have no thirst for power. I do not seek control over the land.” Then he added, “Unlike you, ‘dear brother.’”
Ardyn had not once desired to sit the throne. Such power was only a means to an end. If the title of king bestowed the authority to reach more of the people and end their suffering, if it meant that no one could interfere with his calling, he would take it. That was all. That was why, when told he’d been chosen, he’d returned home.
“Ever does that mouth of yours twist the truth
in your favor,” Somnus spat. A flash of blue, and he stood with sword in hand.
Ardyn found himself confronted by the gift of blades, as bestowed by the gods upon House Caelum. Weapons summoned at will, now brandished by brother against brother. Ardyn knew he could stay Somnus if he must; the power was split evenly between them.
“It was me, Brother. I was chosen by the gods!” Somnus raised his sword high and brought it crashing down.
Ardyn prepared to catch the blade with his own, when another voice rang out.
“Stop!”
Aera leapt before him.
“Aera!” he shouted.
Her body caught the flash of steel, and she fell. And to Ardyn’s eyes, the whole world was bathed in red.
Cold. Dark. Pain. They were everything. There was nothing else.
He was in a place deep underground, one never to be graced with the sun’s rays. Thick chains held him fast a dozen times over, allowing him not even the tiniest movement. And beyond the chains, beyond the walls of his stone cell, the sea extended in every direction. There was no escape from this place.
Angelgard. An island long revered by man. A place where the gods used to gather. The tides and winds pulled strong here, as if they were incorporeal guards stationed to keep mortals away. Days fit for a ship’s landing came but a few times a year, he’d heard. Even if he managed to break the chains and force his way free of the stone, he’d have no means to return to the mainland.
Why?
For some time after his imprisonment, it was the only question that ran through his mind.
