by Shakyra Dunn
“Our plan is to take the first boat from here to Kinsley, bright and early,” Solus began. “We’ll stay there for a night and do whatever we can to keep from drawing attention. The Order of Helix could already have members stationed up there.”
“Don’t we need money for a boat ride carrying five people?” Amiria asked. “Especially if we’re going all the way to Kinsley?”
“Let me handle that,” Rem proclaimed. “We’ll get out of here by morning. Deal?”
Amiria settled into bed. “I look forward to getting out of this freezing climate, so the idea of being in a sunny place like Kinsley sounds lovely.”
Leilana grabbed the mug from the nightstand. The drink seemed to be cooler now that it had shifted hands a couple of times. She hoped that lukewarm herbs were an improvement to over-steamed herbs, but she wasn’t holding her breath. Doing so would harm her more than anything. “If we’re going to leave by morning, I guess I should to return to the recovery route.”
“I’ll make you more!” Sien beamed. “You’re bound to get better with my help!”
Leilana narrowed her gaze. “An eye for an eye and all that.” Sien broke into hysterical laughter, holding her stomach, nearly doubled over. Leilana lowered her mug to rest on her lap, folding her hands. Was it that funny, using her pain as a sick metaphor?
Solus and Rem glanced at one another, sharing a mutual smirk. Sien scrambled to her corner to start up a new brew. “Hang tight! I’ll have this together in a jiffy!”
“It’s starting to get a tad late,” Solus stated, peering out of the window. “I’m going to turn in. Rem? Joining me?”
Rem stretched out on the floor, placing his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah, may as well.” Solus dropped a pillow on his face, causing Rem to gasp at the sudden loss of air before throwing it back up at the attendant, scowling playfully at the idea of a rematch.
“I’m gonna keep working over here, but I’ll try not to stay up too long,” Sien called. “Leidibug, be sure to change the water on the cloth every few minutes before you fall asleep to make sure that you don’t get pus in your eye. That’ll cause an infection. The next mixture should help ease the pain.”
“I’ll take care,” Leilana replied. “Fewer herbs and spices, more water.”
“Noted!”
The darkest hours were well upon them, and Solus found himself staring out of the open window watching the beasts in the far-off snowy plains emerge. A moonless night had come again. Magic was limited, and not a single pair of eyes fluttered open amidst the chaos. He supposed it was a blessing. Snow flurries drifted from the sky, chilled winds allowing them to flow into the room. He outstretched his hand to caress the gentle flakes, touch the clouds, but no matter how far away from the ground that he longed to travel, his body would never reach further heights.
“Cold,” Sien moaned, wrapping her arms around Leilana’s shoulder, snuggling her face against her back. Leilana sniffled, pulling the sheet closer, returning to slumber.
Solus closed the window, taking care that he didn’t cause a ruckus. Sleepless nights were common these days, not only for him but for his allies. And this night was taxing, their energy reluctantly stolen for the moonless period, draining them after intensive battles. The last thing that he wanted was to tear any chance of resting in peace from them.
He stepped over Rem, who was lightly snoring in midst of his rather deep sleep, leaving Solus grateful for his brief respite. Amiria was at his side, resting her head on his shoulder, her long hair covering the pillow underneath her. Solus stepped out after claiming a room key from the nightstand near Leilana’s bed, gently closing the door behind him, his hand lingering on the doorknob before he departed the hotel. Every step forward, his footsteps echoed, continuing even after the polished floors were replaced with plush snow under his heels.
Things were adding up, just as Rem said. The Order of Helix was shaped under the guidance of Magiten Academy’s Headmaster, someone with respect and experience in training and controlling others. The most vulnerable were his own students; those that escaped their pilgrimage, or couldn’t complete it were left with nothing, snagged under his wing with renowned purpose. Somehow, it made sense that he was the one yanking the strings, but no one would expect a primed Warlord.
“I knew that you’d be here.”
Solus stopped mid-step, his slow inhale like pins and needles piercing his lungs, the air dense. He shielded his hands from the cold by stuffing them into the loose pockets on his pants, his left foot bouncing up and down in the snowy patch. He wanted to keep walking and avoid conflict, but there was no true place he could venture to without becoming lost in the haze.
“You seem to have a problem with listening.”
From beyond the trees stepped Kinaju, clothed in a rather comfortable looking wolf-hide winter jacket. Solus blew air from his grit teeth in disgust, the idea of using animal fur as a coat repulsive. Kinaju held up his gloved hands. “I’m told that I’m hard-headed and stubborn.”
“What an insulting combination,” Solus spat.
“You know, you seem different from when we first met.” Kinaju appeared genuinely concerned. It nearly threw the older male off guard, but Solus was used to full-blown deception. Kinaju was hell-bent on the idea that Rem was going to unravel his life, and every chance encounter lived to intensify the need to escape any more potential pain. “Is there something bothering you, Solus?”
“It is not any of your business,” Solus settled with. “I can’t sleep.”
Kinaju removed his red scarf, wrapping it around Solus’s neck. Solus grasped the thin fabric with both hands, darting between the scarf and Kinaju’s blank stare. Finally, the younger boy told him, “You looked cold. Thought I could help.”
“You’re strange,” Solus mumbled. “Why help me after trying to kill me?”
Kinaju lowered his head, kicking some snow. “I guess it’s different now because you’re different. And maybe I’m a little different too.” Solus raised an eyebrow. “There’s a lot that my father told me. Things about Prince Remiel, the Vesarus family… and a lot about you.”
“What about me?”
“You told me that you didn’t want to remember your past. Does that still apply today?”
Rem had no problem coming to terms with his past after talking things out with his parents’ wandering souls. Their actions pushed him to become a person that wanted to stand on his own, and that always made Rem a better person in his eyes. The knowledge of self-growth was budding in the young prince. Why couldn’t the same apply to him?
“I want to know,” Solus told him. “There are things that I could shoulder about what I have lost, and others that I will have to accept over time. What can you tell me?”
Kinaju pointed towards the forest, blanketed in snow and ice much like the rest of Mithra on this cool night. “How about we take a walk?”
“But there are monsters lurking,” Solus began. “It’s a moonless night, and magic is ineffective here. We wouldn’t stand a chance against a formidable foe.”
“Well, it’s a good thing that I don’t have magic to lose, right?” Wait, so he wasn’t a magic user? Maybe that was why he used a wide variety of weapons. “The two of us, we can handle a little danger. Have some faith in me.” Solus nearly laughed. Somehow, that confidence reminded him of Rem.
“Start at the beginning,” Solus instructed as Kinaju nocked an arrow to distract a group of deer. Unlike the wolves or birds, they were defenseless, and Kinaju specified that they weren’t prone to attacking unless their corrupted instincts kicked into overdrive. Kinaju fired the arrow, which struck the ground in front of the deer, causing them to dash off into the forest. He listened to the snow crunch under their hooves, dusting off his pants.
“I was born outside of Adrylis fourteen years ago, in a place called Gularin.” Gularin. The Sentience word meaning ‘exiled.’ It was a well-known place to ship off unworthy denizens walking amongst the people of Adrylis. “It is where
the first Necromancers and their kin reside. But they’ve been reduced to just one family lineage. I am an heir, but I possess no powers.” He gave off a bitter smile. “In other words, I’m considered a failure.” Solus’s eyes saddened, and Kinaju cleared his throat. “It’s not all that bad. I got to learn a lot of other skills. You were right calling me a jack-of-all-trades.”
Solus was drumming his fingers along his pants, puffs of white smoke emerging from his nose every few breaths that he released before he trapped them under his scarf. “All right. So, you’re not a Necromancer despite being the son of Gularin’s leader. Your ancestor got your people exiled in the first place for trying to assassinate the king and mask it as an incident involving knights of the round.”
Kinaju rested his hands behind his head as he walked ahead of Solus. “Okay, you’ve heard that story. Saves me a history lesson. The Necromancers have a grudge against the Vesarus family because they lynched my grandfather. The lineage was already in effect though—my father was only a child, but it was enough to fuel him as a proper leader. The Necromancers continued their planning in the shadows. And then down the road, he had three children.”
More and more, this tale familiarized itself, and Solus couldn’t fathom why. He continued to listen, wordless.
“The eldest child was kidnapped by an outsider that wormed their way into the city, and his body was found drifting through the stream with his head hanging from a fence. The middle child carried the power that our father sought, but he ran away. Three years after the middle son was born, I came along. I possessed no magic, unlike my brothers, so I was an outcast from the start. I have no legacy to leave behind with my family.”
“I’m certain that’s not true. You already have so much to offer without the use of magic.”
“Magic makes the world turn. And without it, you don’t have much of a place. You’re considered a lesser being because magic is a gift to those that deserve it. It makes me wonder if I did something in a past life to have my fun life stripped away.”
“Not having magic isn’t a bad thing. I mean, look at me—I’m a simple servant, right-hand man to the Prince of Adrylis, and I can still hold my own in a fight. I’m the only one in my group that can’t use magic.” Kinaju grew silent, biting his bottom lip. He was contemplative; Solus knew the expression well after several instances involving his closest friend. “You said that you’ve been following me for a while now. How do you know who I am?”
“You really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I was willing to be left in the dark. There must be a reason you were drawn to me rather than Remiel. Everyone else seems enthused at knowing the prince or trying to knock him down a few pegs until his life is extinguished. That isn’t your plan, is it?”
“I may be in the Order of Helix, but Prince Remiel was never my goal. It was always about you.” So, there was some confirmation. He was a part of the Order of Helix too. They were like bugs, crawling through every open area trying to uproot information. But from what Solus noticed, Kinaju seemed to genuinely care about him. And only him. The concept was bewildering, but answers were being spoon-fed to him nonetheless.
“And again, why me? What is special about me?” Kinaju folded his hands, bouncing in place. The words weren’t coming easy, and Solus didn’t want to force them. That would unravel any progress they had made thus far.
“It’s complicated, so I guess I’ll jump the gun and come out with it.” Kinaju took a deep breath. “You’re my older brother.”
Solus’s expression was deadpan. “No, seriously, what’s the rub?”
“I am serious!” Kinaju exclaimed, resting his hands on Solus’s shoulders, rocking him back and forth. The action and the new information thrust upon him was making Solus’s stomach turn, and he fought tooth and nail to keep from regurgitating his dinner. “You are my older brother. We have the same father, different mothers, but we are blood.”
Solus pushed Kinaju’s hands away. Surely, he was lying. The idea of him being the child of a Necromancer was unfathomable. He didn’t even possess magic. He was normal—powerless. He picked up the slack for what he lacked, trained beyond his limits. He had taken up a sword, played with other elements that he was given. He was the only one that struggled in that field when compared to others, and for a long time, he didn’t mind being without the burdens that possessing magic carried. He even found further resonance with Leilana because her powers stemmed from her grimoire, and even she didn’t mind not having to rely on magic.
The ribbon in his hair, an heirloom from a grandfather he never knew. The words were swimming in the back of his mind. The faces of those that held discontent for him slapped him so hard that he wanted to collapse onto the snow. There was so much that he didn’t understand. But somehow… now it all made sense. He had run away. He didn’t know why he had, but he had already regained a glimpse of a defining factor. The man who pushed him to the ground.
“This ‘mistake’ you made was yours and yours alone.”
Now he could see it. A woman, her long brown hair tied back into a braid. Her body was soaked in a pool of dark brown blood. She had been laying there for quite some time already, and it was continuing to elapse. Her eyes were rolled up to the back of her head, her mouth hanging open. The air surrounding her body had condensed. He could still feel the wind’s chill spiraling the open plains.
“Stop trying to run away from it! Take responsibility for what you’ve done!”
“You said that your father had three children. One died, another ran away, and that left you. But, I’d like to ask another question. Whatever happened to your mother?”
Kinaju couldn’t look him in the eye, rather the ground. Solus’s breath was hitching in his throat, the icy winds catching his voice. His lungs ached with each inhale. Why wasn’t he saying anything?
“Please tell me the truth.” He couldn’t believe the desperation pouring out of his mouth. He rarely opened up, but if his words were honest, Kinaju had more answers than anyone else. Solus clenched his fists, his head sinking further towards the snow as if his body was crumbling to pieces faster than he could acknowledge it. “Kinaju… please…”
Kinaju shut his eyes, breathing in for a few seconds through his open mouth. When he finally did face Solus, the boy’s eyes were void, his voice cold as he told him, “You killed her.”
The world went still. Not even the snow seemed to fall. The wind was still gusting strong, but Solus wasn’t able to feel it piercing his skin.
“My birth mother died long ago, but yours stayed with us. The two of you were walking one day, and she ended up with a knife wound to her neck. Father says that she choked on her own blood.” He rested his hands on his hips, and Solus took a step back. “Unless you’d like to fill in the missing holes, there’s no other person to shift the blame on.”
“I don’t remember anything,” Solus admitted, his voice breaking.
“Then there’s no way you can explain what happened to her?” Kinaju snapped.
“I have no reason to lie to you!” Solus countered. “I don’t remember that day!”
But the holes were filling. The man that urged him to correct his mistakes, it must have been his father, trying to allure him to the petty idea of reviving someone long lost, and the pain was too much for him to burden alone. Six years ago. Six years ago, he had supposedly run away from a home he didn’t remember, carrying powers beyond his understanding.
These hands of his, cracked and unsteady, were to wield a sword meant to carry his prince to prosperity. Instead, they were washed with the blood of his more than innocent mother. They were stained with the essence of life, and every bit was drained out. Aria Luris was nothing more than an empty husk that walked the earth until she was eradicated by Kinaju’s hand; he was the reason why she couldn’t rest in peace. Twice she had lost her life without finding a true path. She would be trapped in a never-ending descent for all of time.
“I don’t know it,” he t
old Kinaju, lowering his hands. “But I will get answers, even if it takes the rest of my life to find them.”
Kinaju threw back his head at the firm proclamation, staring up at the grey clouds. “I have something that I want to show you.”
The two walked through the snowy plains, coming across a deer lying still in the middle of the road. Solus took note that there was no blood covering it—the deer must have died from an illness or froze to death. He reached out a hand and caressed its antlers. Icy to the touch. It had been here for hours at best, for his group didn’t bypass any on their way into town.
“You can restore its life, Solus. It has a family out there, waiting.”
Solus laid a hand under the fallen creature’s head, much heavier than the weight he could support. “You can say that, but there’s no right way to fix this.”
“You were primed to believe that Necromancers are evil beings that tried to kill the king because he was ‘corrupted’ and ‘tyrannous.’ But there’s a deeper meaning and secrets that the Vesarus family keeps away. Remiel is bound to have some that he won’t speak of to you.”
“Rem is my best friend. We made a vow to support one another. That includes speaking about our feelings and whatever is going on in our lives, no matter how much time it takes to expose them.”
“You plan to tell him about your heritage? In your own right, you too are royalty.”
Solus looked up at Kinaju, sighing as he stated, “I don’t know if I believe that myself.” Solus’s fingertips were tinted crimson, but the knowledge wasn’t sinking in. Kinaju decided to keep silent. Maybe someday he would discover the truth and figure out the right way to use it.
“I’ve always wondered what it felt like to have life in my hands,” Kinaju began. “You are the lucky one. You get to give people a second chance to make things right within themselves. They get to walk the earth again, guided by someone else, and they can grow from each new experience. That was something that Aria wanted. But she knew too much, and once she had what she wanted, she was going to kill you. There was no way that I could let her live.”
