Broken Kingdom

by Stephany Wallace

  There wasn’t much left of the three-hundred-foot tall holy man, except for the shadows that covered his remaining features, and the cloak that conformed his body. My jaw strained while I walked closer. Dragon ashes floated around me as though they were snow, falling from the sky, while I approached the base of the figure. Remains lay at its feet—after the fight knocked them loose—now conforming boulders and rocks all over the side of the mountain and ground. I bent down as a large rock called my attention and my hand brushed the dirt and moss away from its surface, I realized then it wasn’t a rock at all. I stared at it, as the eye of the stone priest stared back at me, and it suddenly dawned on me why I felt this way.

  Like the priest, I too was broken.

  Unlike him, my cracks weren’t visible on the outside—I had tried very hard not to let anyone in—yet I was still half the man I should be. I spent half of my life craving attention from a man who made me feel like I wasn’t enough, only to discover he wasn’t even my real father. The other half I had spent admiring and resenting my older brother simultaneously, because although he was the one to raise me and always be there for me, he reminded me of everything I wasn’t. Everything I would never be good enough to achieve.

  Taking a strained breath, I blinked the moisture away from my eyes and reached for a small rock that fell from the statue. Taking it into my palm I gripped it tightly and stood, looking at it as though it possessed the answers I searched for. My gaze roamed the desolate land before me, and without wasting another moment, I placed the rock in my pocket and began to walk, crossing the entrance of the graveyard.

  * * *

  My feet sunk into the layers of ash that made the ground of this place. It almost reached my calves, and I tried not to think about what it represented, while my thumb rubbed the rock in my pocket over and over again. The land before me was painted in grays, blacks, and whites. They mixed with the bones that protruded from the ashes. Sets of ribcages lay abandoned on the ground, with partially shattered dragon skulls.

  The essence of death, in its purest form, lived here.

  Although I had fought shoulder to shoulder in war with my brothers many times—I was a Prince of the Winter Court, after all—I had never supported the senseless act. War, only brought on war. It was absurd to think otherwise. War was an endless cycle, one that would never be ruptured.

  Darkness could never give way to light. Violence would never give way to peace.

  The air continued to wheeze around me, raising the ashes from the ground, and forming a storm that barely allowed me to see. My hand lifted, shielding my eyes as the cries of despair, from the wisps of wind, resounded in my ears. A shudder ran through my body, but I pushed myself forward. It was the middle of the day, yet you wouldn’t know it by being here. The gray clouds hid the sun, the gloom had settled long ago. I had never been here before, but I had learned about it from the stories we were taught as kids.

  The place where death lived.

  After being here, I doubted I would ever be strong enough to return.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

  The woman’s voice reached me, and I realized I was no longer alone. I was unable to see much of her—due to the storm—until a tunnel formed around us, built by her powers no doubt. It was invisible, yet the ashes seemed to slide over its curves as though hitting a physical dome. A red light dimly lit the area.

  I lowered the hand that covered my eyes and blinked until I could focus on her.

  The Bloodcroix Witch.

  She was an older woman, with startling white hair set up in an elegant style. She had a long black cloak covering her, and the hood casted shadows on her face, yet I could see her pale skin, under it. Make up covered her features like I had never seen, tribal symbols it seemed. Red and black paint stained her face, forming lines and triangles, which converged along her forehead resembling royal markings.

  The patterns continued, lining striking red eyes, and down her neck where they finally disappeared. The crimson stain was on her lips too.

  A black and red leather dress hugged her body under the cloak. When my eyes returned to hers she smiled, catching me by surprise. It was a genuine, heart felt smile.

  “The fun brother is here,” the Witch said, with an amused gleam in her eyes. “My day just got infinitely better.”

  I chuckled once, confused by her demeanor. She was obviously powerful, but nothing like I had expected. I wasn’t sure what her end game was. She turned around and began to walk.

  “Are you coming? We don’t exactly have all day,” she said, looking at me from over her shoulder. I nodded, and began to follow.

  * * *

  “So, what can I help you with, young prince?” The Bloodcroix Witch asked, as soon as we entered her cave.

  She hung the coat on a wooden stand, and sat on a large chair by the far wall, crossing her legs. It resembled a throne, except it seemed made of… bones? She held her scepter tightly, her amused eyes following me while I regarded the place, taking it all in. I promptly recognize this wasn’t a cave at all. It was the inside of a dragon skeleton, although leather draperies covered many parts of it.

  I sat on a chair directly across from her. “How did you know I was out there?” I asked instead.

  “You mean aside from you standing in the middle of the graveyard like a lost child?” I blinked and followed her with my gaze while she stood and walked towards me. The Witch sat on the chair beside me and her hand cupped my cheek. I stared at her, startled by her gesture, while she looked straight into my eyes. A small smile curved her lips. “You are not the only one who is broken, young prince. Many of us are.”

  Her crimson eyes briefly glowed and her face flashed in front of me. For a split second, I saw behind the mask. Under the black and red markings, her skin was deeply marred with scars. My fingers inevitably reached for her cheek, and my thumb gently caressed the place where I had seen the gruesome wound. Her eyes glistened and filled with a great sadness, then it disappeared.

  “We may be damaged, but that has made us who we are.” Her hand dropped from my skin and I removed mine from hers, taken aback by her words. She straightened. “You seek the truth your brother learned, but there is a different path you must follow.”

  “What do you mean? I need to know what happened when he was here. What did you do to him? What did you tell him?”

  “Kyr’s journey was only his to walk. I’m afraid you cannot follow. The moment has come for you to learn the truth you seek, yet my lips shan’t be the ones to speak it.” The Witch stood, and walked towards a wall filled with several kinds of artifacts. She took a small vial with a black mineral powder inside it that shimmered in a kaleidoscope of colors.

  Faery Dust.

  Once again she turned towards me. “Are you ready?”

  I stood and nodded as determination rushed through my body, filling my every cell. Her gaze went to my waist and she extended her hand towards my belt. “I’m going to need that, from you. You are not the one meant to use it.”

  I lowered my gaze to the leather pouch that hung from my belt. The dragon scale.

  “What will you do with it?” I asked, hesitantly.

  Her lips twitched. “There’s no need for you to worry. I will send it to the one meant to find its pair.”

  “And who is that exactly?”

  This time she grinned. “Why, your brother, Nyx, of course.”

  My eyes widened as I looked at her. “Are you serious?”

  Her right brow arched, the smile dying on her lips as though daring me to question her again. I grunted, taking the pouch and handed it to her. She opened the vial, and sprinkled a speck of Fairy Dust on it.

  “Return to the one who shall find your other. The one meant to learn your truths.” With her words the leather pouch shimmered and began to glow. The next second, a black mist formed around it and then… it was gone.

  My eyes widened as she stepped closer emptying the vial on her palm. “Find Lorcan Ulda
th. He holds all the answers you need.”

  “Wait, what are you doi—” My words cut off as she blew the Faery Dust all over me, and smirked while the black mist surrounded me, turning everything to darkness.

  “Have a safe trip, my prince…”

  I crash landed against a wall, and collapsed to the asphalt in the half lit alley of a city at night. I grunted from the hit and rolled on my side, trying to catch my breath.

  The first thing about Fairy Dust was that along with its many mystical properties, it also possessed translocation capabilities. In other words, it could transport its victim to any place, and time the handler desired. The catch? It could only be used by an Earth Faery, with the gift of Magic Dust Manipulation—who were extremely rare, with one born every hundred thousand years, with the sole purpose of being the new guardian of the mystical substance—or by a very, very, powerful Sorcerer. Considering that “Sorcerer” was the most formidable level of magic supremacy a Witch could achieve, the second “very” should make you want to wet your pants.

  The fact that The Bloodcroix Witch was the one to wield it… yeah, you’d definitely need a new change of clothes.

  No one knew the exact place of origin of the Bloodcroix Witch, but there was one thing everyone could agree on. She was not to be trifled with. You didn’t seek “sanctuary” in the middle of the most horrifying battleground to ever exist, because you were good-natured and fun. The level of power she possessed, scared even our royal Sorcerer shitless, and he had one hell of a handle on his gift.

  The sound of steps over the wet ground reached me, and I pressed my palms to the dirty street to push myself up. I held my knees taking another breath, and cupped the right side of my ribs. It felt like I had knocked a couple loose, or maybe I was just winded. My gaze briefly fell on the neon lights across the street, at the same time someone kicked me from behind.

  I crashed against the floor, again, and looked up to find four guys dressed in jeans and football jerseys staring down at me.

  “Get up, and give us your wallet!”

  I grunted again, I was not in the mood for this shit. I took a deep breath and stood so fast their heads whipped back. I loomed over them at seven feet tall. Yeah, they were definitely getting whiplash after this. I was still in the shadows of the alley, so they couldn’t see me clearly.

  “I assure you, you do not want to mess with me right now. I’ve had a bad past few weeks.” I stepped forward, and the light falling from the neon sign onto the side of the building bathed my body.

  The leader of the gang pulled out a gun and aimed it at my chest, trying to hide his shock while his eyes roamed the muscles of my built.

  I let out a heavy breath. “Okay, I’ve had enough.” The next second, my fist connected with his face. It moved so swiftly, his eyes didn’t even register it.

  “What the fuck?!” His partners stepped back startled, as his leader crashed on the asphalt, unconscious, the gun falling from his grip.

  I jumped and kicked the chest of the next one, he flew back a few steps and landed on the dumpster behind him. I turned as the other man threw himself at me, and grabbing his arm I used his own momentum to flip him, slamming him to the floor. His head hit the pavement knocking him out. I squared myself for the final attack, but the second my face was engulfed fully by the light, the guy’s eyes filled with terror, and I knew what he saw. My real form. My markings were glowing, my ice blue eyes must have looked ultraviolet under the neon, and my pointy ears were in full view. The man ran as fast as his feet would take him.

  Sighing, I closed my eyes and took a settling breath. My body tingled with my ability as it instantly took a more natural form, so the humans wouldn’t be startled by it—six foot three seemed like an acceptable height. I felt my ears round and shrink while my forehead absorbed the markings, and my cheekbone hid the tattoo under my eye, leaving flawless skin behind. My ice blue irises darkened, becoming so murky they mixed with my pupils, making it seem as though my eyes were pure black. Finally, my skin took a lightly tanned, more human shade.

  Barely a split second passed while I transformed.

  Unlike my brother, Kyr, I had full control over my ability because I had never hidden it within me, like he had. Kyr believed our powers were something to be called on only when needed. Instead, I had spent most of my young age mastering it. I was always connected to it. I could see, smell, hear and sense everything within a hundred mile radius, and I had learned how to focus only on what I wanted to see, hear or otherwise perceive.

  I was constantly transforming. It was like a nervous twitch in your body, except mine lifted my brows, elongated my eyes, filled my lips, adjusted my weight, toughened my skin, then set everything right and started all over again. It was so subtle and precise, that no one ever noticed. Using my gift had become as natural as breathing for me. I didn’t even have to think about it most of the time. It was as though my essence knew what I needed, and my body manifested it. I had complete and utter mastery over it… it was as simple as that.

  I turned and stepped onto the street. My hand rubbed my ribs again, yep I was just winded, but at least I was in a place I recognized.

  Manhattan, New York… Earth.

  Darkness fell as I walked through the streets of the Upper East Side, lit only by the locales’ signs and light posts along the way. It had been a while since I visited New York City, or toured Park Avenue at night. My eyes roamed the street as I walked, attracting the attention of pretty much everyone I crossed paths with. It wasn’t Fae form, since I had used my ability to hide it. It was the fact that I was dressed in, what to them, resembled medieval clothing, and my skin was filthy from the ash storm I had endured back at the Dragonash Graveyard. I needed a shower and a change of clothes, fast.

  I stopped in front of the one place that had felt like home during my visits here, and I was glad I would have everything I needed during my unplanned stay. The second thing about travelling with Faery Dust, was there was no way of getting back unless the one who wield it used it on you once again, and I didn’t have my silver key with me, which meant no access to the Gate of the Realms. So yeah, I had no idea how long I would be staying here.

  “Welcome to the Waldorf Astoria, Mr. Winston,” the doorman greeted, opening the door for me, I smiled walking in.

  “Are you alright, Sir?” Thomas, the manager, questioned as I reached the front desk.

  “I was assaulted on my way here from a King Edward themed benefit I attended,” I lied, knowing it would be the only thing that would make sense to them.

  “Oh, how terrible. Would you like us to call the police?”

  “No, that’s not necessary, Thomas. A police officer was near, and they already took my report of the incident. I have, however, lost the key to my penthouse suite. Would you please help me get a replacement? As you can imagine I’ll need a shower and a stiff drink after the day I’ve had.”

  “Of course Mr. Winston, it will be my pleasure.”

  The manager gestured to one of the ladies at the front desk and she set out work on my key. I nodded appreciatively, accepting a card the manager handed me.

  “If you feel up to it, our hotel bar has begun hosting Karaoke parties every Friday evening. It will begin in an hour, at 8:00p.m. and last until midnight. Perhaps you’ll decide to join us for your drink while enjoying the entertainment? I’m sure it will help you relax after what you’ve been through today.”

  I slowly nodded as I looked at the card he provided. It depicted flying music notes with a piano, and the silhouette of a lady singing.

  “Your champagne of choice is on the house, as usual, Mr. Winston, since you are a resident of our hotel apartments.” Thomas added with a head bow.

  “Perhaps I will join the fun. Thanks, Thomas.” I accepted the envelope his assistant handed me with a smile, turned, and walked towards the private elevators that lead to the apartments tower of the historical hotel.

  * * *

  Drops of water fell from my sable b
lack hair, sliding down my chest, my abs, and lower still, while I stood in front of the anti-fog bathroom mirror. I didn’t believe in towels, I preferred to air dry.

  I stared at my reflection, enjoying the relaxation the heated bath had offered, and my mind wandered. I wasn’t the type of man to dwell on the things that happened to me, yet I couldn’t help but replay everything that had occurred since I discovered that the Dragon Lord was still alive, and he sent us on a journey that would change our lives forever. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, staring at myself, until I finally grunted disgusted by my self-pity, and walked outside to the bedroom.

  The inside of the penthouse suite was what the humans referred to as “elegant, old English style, with museum worthy antiques and artwork.” Yet to me it resembled the palace, making it feel like home. I had spent seven million dollars on it without batting an eye. Human currency wasn’t worth anything to us in the Otherworld. We dealt with the purest gold, silver and precious gems, especially diamonds, ones the like mortals had never seen. Unlike the diamonds on Earth—which originated from carbon after enduring extreme heat and pressure—ours originated from the White Haunted Mountain. Born more pure, and brilliant than the final result of the ones here. A large cluster, made me wealthier than some of the richest men in the world.

  My gaze went to the clock on the wall, it was well after nine, I had unapologetically spent over an hour in the bath, and it had been glorious. Entering the walk-in closet, I looked at the collection of clothes that the hotel services maintained dry cleaned for me, during my so called “travels”. I removed a jewel green, button down shirt and black dress pants from the hangers, and began to dress. No, I didn’t believe in undergarments either.

  I slid my feet into a pair of black leather loafers to complete the outfit, and walked towards the key locked drawers in the closet, unlocking them. I pulled out a wallet, which contained a thousand dollars in cash, a bankcard, two credit cards and a driver’s license—all under the name of Arthur Winston. A prominent diamond dealer and last heir of a wealthy European family, who travelled the world with his business, and returned to New York City once a year.