by C. J. Krüger
Too late, little Wolfe. You’re mine now.
I look over the crowd, my chest rising and falling rapidly. David’s face is among those I see, and I watch in his eyes as he begs and pleads with me to find a way to stop this.
Someone help, I cry out with my soul. Lights, please help me.
No! The voice shouts, seemingly in pain.
The blue light vanishes and I fall over as exhaustion takes hold of me. I lay there on the floor, panting and trying to regain my senses. A moment goes by, or maybe an hour—it’s impossible to tell. My eyelids become too heavy to keep open and all I see is darkness. Eventually, I feel a set of hands on me and open my eyes long enough to see David’s face.
“Oy!” he says, shaking me. “Are you alright?”
I shake my head, my words not coming through. A flash of worry passes through his eyes. He nods and then tries to lift me up but I am too tired to help and I don’t budge at all.
“Someone help me get him to the medical wing,” David shouts. “This is your Prince!”
Heathrow is there and I hear him mutter something under his breath. A sudden sense of weightlessness takes me over, and I am floating in the air.
“Is everyone alright?” I am finally able to ask.
“They are,” David says reassuringly, “Or at least they will be. Bad headaches for a while, but nothing too serious.”
“I’m sorry,” I croak out, tears falling down my cheek. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
“I don’t think it was you, my friend,” David says, his voice soft. “Just rest.”
Nodding, I drift off into sleep, too tired and drained to argue.
Chapter Twelve
“What happened to my son?” I hear a deep, almost rumbling voice ask.
“What did he do to everyone else, is the question,” another voice replies, her tone respectful but firm. “He nearly killed a whole class, including a teacher.”
I try to block out the sounds, but lying in a bed with nowhere to go makes it difficult. Opening my eyes, I see a thin curtain wrapped around my bed and the silhouettes of people standing outside. Three, unless my eyes are failing me.
“My son wouldn’t attack anyone,” I hear a honeyed voice say, which could only belong to my mother. She stands much taller than the academy nurse, and I can tell from her posture that she is not pleased. “I want to see him. Now.”
“He’s asleep,” the nurse tells her, not backing down. “And this is my medical room. You two might be King and Queen out there, but this is my kingdom.”
“How dare you—”
“My love,” father says, and I see him wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Mistress Halliwell is right, and Duncan needs his rest. We’ll stay here until we can see him, I swear it.”
My father always has a way of calming my mother, which is no small feat, as the rage of the Elves is legendary. She sighs and I see her put her head against her palm. “This was just supposed to be good for him. To be around others his own age.”
“Maybe it still is,” father says. “The Lights’ plans are complicated beyond our understanding. You can’t calculate anything without including them.”
“I know,” she says. “I’m sorry, Mistress Halliwell. I’m just anxious about my son.”
“Of course you are,” the woman says, her voice softening. “When he’s awake, I’ll let you know.”
The urge to call out to them is strong, but even stronger is my desire to be in my own head. The events that have brought them here trouble me greatly. That strange voice in my head, filled with such bloodlust. Just for a moment, I let my anger get the better of me, and it somehow latched onto me like a parasite. Thank you, Mother Moon, and Father Sun. Thank you.
It feels as though arms are wrapping around me, and it’s as if I am a small boy being embraced by my parents. How I wish I was actually being embraced. Tears start to flow from my eyes and my body shudders.
“Duncan?” my mother asks, her elven ears picking up the subtle change in my breathing. Without waiting for permission, she pulls the curtains back and sees me there. All her irritation and displeasure transform at the sight of me and she rushes over to the bed and pulls me into her arms. “Oh, my son,” she says, and plants kisses on my brow.
“Mother,” I say, wrapping my arms around her and I begin to weep into her hair. “I don’t know what happened. I was just—”
“Quiet, my child,” she says, pulling me against her tightly. “You’re fine. Everyone else is fine. We can talk later.”
I nod and hold onto her tightly. Big, strong arms wrap around both of us, and squeeze tightly. The air feels like it’s being crushed out of my lungs for a moment before I am released.
“Father,” I say, wiping my eyes on my arm. “I missed you both.” Seeing them here now brings a mixture of shame and elation. They are my parents, and I know that above all others in this world, they love me. Yet, I feel such shame and rage at myself for what I have done. How can they love me after that?
“We missed you, too,” my father says. “I think you should rest up, Duncan. We can have breakfast in the morning and chat.”
I nod and lay my head back against my pillow. “I would like that. Today was pure insanity.”
“We’ll get it sorted,” my mother assures me. “Headmaster Zedamidus is making sure you can stay in school.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I say, looking up into her eyes. “I think I need to go back to Arteria and see grandfather.”
“Why?” my father asks, his eyes narrow.
“We can talk about it tomorrow,” I tell him, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “Right now, I just want to sleep, but it does mean a lot to me that you are here. I know running a kingdom isn’t easy.”
“What’s the point of being King if you can’t see your son, though, eh?” my father asks, his lips pulling up into a smile. “I love you, Duncan. We love you. Always.”
My mother nods in agreement and pushes some of my hair behind my ear. “And I know plenty of places in the forests to hide a few bodies,” she says in elvish.
“Mother!” I say in shock. “That’s not funny.”
She giggles. “It really is,” she says, switching back to the common tongue and she kisses my forehead. “Alright, my darling. Rest, and we’ll see you in the morning.” She stands up and I see her take my father’s hand, and they squeeze one another gently.
Seeing them together always fills me with joy and hope and I can’t help but smile and feel a little better. “Good night,” I tell them. “I love you both.”
“We love you,” they say again before leaving the medical wing together, hand in hand. Mistress Halliwell comes to my side and places her hand on my forehead.
“No fever,” she says, sounding relieved. “Take this,” she tells me, producing a cup of some vile smelling liquid.
“What is that?” I ask, turning my face to escape the smell. “It smells like a rat died in there.”
“Just drink it, Prince Wolfe,” she says firmly. “That elven woman, Ayda came by earlier and said you were having trouble sleeping because of dreams. That can cause anyone to snap, so drink this. It will make sure you sleep soundly tonight.”
Suddenly, the vile smell didn’t seem so awful. “Thank you,” I say, taking the cup into my hands before downing the entire cup in one go. The liquid burns my throat on the way down, and I feel as if I am about to throw up. However, after just a moment, I feel a strange drowsiness take over my mind, and everything becomes hazy and distorted.
“Now rest,” Mistress Halliwell says, her tone extremely deep, and she sounds as if she is speaking through water.
I try to respond but my lips and jaw feel like pudding and my neck relaxes too much for me to keep my head up. Darkness creeps over my eyes, and I feel very light as I drift into unconsciousness.
* * *
Flames kiss my face and for a moment I stir, trying to ignore the sensation. A spark touches my cheek and pain radiates fro
m the spot, causing me to open my eyes, and fear snaps me out of my drug induced stupor. I am not lying in the medical wing of the academy, like I should be, but somehow, I am in the heart of Arteria. Horror consumes me as the fire grows larger and the trees I grew up with are consumed by the inferno.
“Rain from the heavens, pour down!” I scream, lifting my hand to the sky. The clear blue transforms quickly as clouds swirl around above me. They grow dark and thick within seconds but no water falls from them. I try to exert my will on them to force the water out, but nothing happens. The flames grow and their heat is intense and deadly.
Lightning cracks the air and the bolt strikes the ground just meters from me. I am thrown off my feet and the shock leaves me unable to move. Am I going to die? I ask myself, struggling to get up. When I lift my head, the flames are gone, and so are the clouds. All I see is a verdant forest, untouched by the blaze.
“What is going on?” I ask, blinking over and over and rubbing my eyes in disbelief. I rise to my feet and look around, my eyes narrow. Am I dreaming? If I am, why did I feel pain? Nothing makes sense to me now, and cautiously I walk through the trees.
The ancient trees look down on me and I can sense their seething rage. Long ago, humans ripped through their children and burned and chopped wherever they pleased. I am tolerated in their presence due to my grandfather, but their displeasure is palpable.
A voice calls me deeper into the woods and I stop moving, trying to listen closely. “Come, Lightheart,” the voice says clearly.
I blink. It’s the second time I have heard that name, and it fills me with chills and hope. My feet softly touch the ground as I hurry through the forest. It’s easy to feel at home here, as I spent most of my youth living and training among the dense leaves. Even with eerie voices and imagined flames, this place makes more sense to me than the land of humans.
“Closer now, young Lightheart,” the voice says, gentle and welcoming. It sounds female, but there is clearly a powerful, deep undertone that can only be male.
“Who are you?” I call out to the voice, searching through the thick trees. There is no reply, but I feel a strong pull towards a large, lonely mountain in the middle of the forest. When I get to the base, I see an opening in the rock, and a bright, golden light shines within.
A tugging sensation fills my chest, and though a part of me fears to approach the mouth of the cave, I know in my heart that I must. My confidence grows as I walk closer, and hope and joy and love start to consume my thoughts. How could something so bright and lovely mean me harm?
No! A voice in my mind screams. It’s that same dark, terrifying voice that’s been haunting me. No! You cannot have him!
In the presence of this light, the voice deep within is nothing more than a nuisance, easily ignored and harmless. I feel as if a cage is being put around that darkness, and even though it’s thrashing and screaming inside, I am separate from it and safe. As I enter the cave, the light passes over me, and all my doubts and fears are swept up by glorious love and awesome strength.
“Welcome, young Lightheart,” the Voice says, and I see two pairs of golden eyes staring at me. “You have come a long way since we last saw you.”
“When was that?” I ask, looking up in awe. “I must have been very young.”
“It was the day your parents created the spark of life within you,” the Voice says, taking on a more masculine tone. “When we placed Our hopes and Our will within you.”
“Why me?” I ask, stepping back in fear and concern. “I don’t understand.”
“Because, young Lightheart,” the Voice says, gentle and loving, “that is Our plan for you. We have waited many ages for you to be born, and We have spent countless time organizing the cosmos so that you are ready to fulfill your destiny. But Our enemy has also been lurking in the shadows, waiting for this as well. There will be a great and terrible battle soon, both in the physical world and within your heart.”
“The one who tells me to kill,” I say and look down at me feet. “That is part of this, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” the Voice says, and I feel as if it is reaching out to embrace me. “You are the lock and the key. You hold the fate of worlds in your heart.”
Shaking my head, I back away and feel myself pressed up against the jagged cave wall. “I don’t want it,” I tell the Voice firmly. “I have never wanted anything more than to just be normal.”
“We know,” the Voice says softly. “We know every part of your heart and your mind, for We created you, Our son.”
“I have parents,” I counter, my eyes narrowing sharply. “Don’t call me Your son.”
Good child, the Darkness says to me. Obey me.
“But you are, Duncan Lightheart,” the Voice says. “As are all who live in this universe. You are Our children whom We love above all else. But is it is within you that We placed the responsibility of saving creation. Because We understand you and love you and know that you will succeed.”
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice quivering in fear. In my heart I know the answer, but somehow I wish the Presence before me would reveal itself as someone or something else. A request from the Twin Lights is too much to bear.
“We have many names, young one,” It says to me. “But right now, We are your Mother and your Father in the heavens and you are Our Champion. We know you are afraid, Lightheart, but do not give in to despair. Trust in Us. We will always be with you.”
“Send me back,” I tell Them firmly. “I want to go back to school. Send me back! Send me back! Send me back!” I shout over and over in hysterics.
“Duncan!” The businesslike voice of Mistress Halliwell sounds in my ears and pulls at me. “Get a hold of yourself, child.”
I blink and look around, finding myself not in a cave but back in my bed in the medical room of Arkana Academy, being shaken by an old woman with fierce eyes. “I’m okay,” I tell her in a shaky voice. “I’m alright.”
“Screaming at the top of your lungs at nothing hardly qualifies as alright, young man,” she says, stepping away from me and placing her hands on her hips. “What happened?”
“I was having a nightmare,” I tell her, though I am unsure if that is true. I think I just want it to be true. “It’s nothing.”
“When I give you medicine to prevent such things and they happen anyway, it’s not nothing,” she says, and sighs. “I suppose I didn’t account for your heritage. Elves have different reactions to things than humans do.”
“I wish people would stop saying that,” I snap harshly. “There is nothing wrong with who I am.”
Her eyes narrow dangerously and she pushes me down onto the bed. “I think your nightmare has addled your brains, young prince,” she says, her tone angry and offended. “I never said anything was wrong with you. I stated a medical fact, and I was trying to apologize. You are my patient and you were supposed to rest, not thrash about. As your doctor, I failed. Be angry at that if you must, but do not accuse me of holding your blood against you.”
Her anger is sobering, and I bite my lip and my face flushes in shame. “You’re right,” I tell her softly. “And I’m sorry. It just happens a lot.”
Mistress Halliwell has a typical stony face, but it softens just for a moment as she pulls the blanket up to my chest. “I know, child,” she says gently. “Just try and get some sleep. You can go back to classes in the morning.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, turning over onto my side. “Please don’t tell my parents what happened. I don’t want them to worry over a stupid nightmare.”
“Very well,” Mistress Halliwell reassures me. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I say, digging myself deeper into the sheets.
She turns off the bedside lantern next to me, and the room becomes dark. I hear her pull the curtain closed around my bed, and then I am left alone with my thoughts. What happened was no dream or even a nightmare. Reality is so much more terrifying than fiction. The Champion, I think to myself. Why me?
; Oh, stop that, Duncan, a dry, but familiar voice speaks into my mind. Even if you try to moan and groan about your fate, it won’t make a difference.
Grandfather?
Who else?
Why are you in my head?
Because you need a swift kick in your spoiled ass.
My ears burn and my brows furrow. So it was real? Meeting Them?
Yes, came his reply, and I can hear the trepidation. I’ve been waiting for this day to come for a long time now.
Are you going to tell me what’s going on? I ask, feeling more irritated than embarrassed now.
You have to leave the academy and come back here, he says firmly. And don’t tell your parents. There are things I have to teach you and I don’t have time to argue with them.
The chance to go back to what I consider home is overwhelming, but at the same time I feel nervous and unsure. They said there was going to be a battle soon.
The biggest battle ever fought, my grandfather confirms. And you need to be ready for it, or we’re all going to fall.
There is something else, Grandfather, I say to him nervously. My hands shake and the hair on my arms stands up on end. I’ve been hearing an awful voice. One telling me to kill.
Don’t concern yourself with that now, my grandfather reassures me. I’ll teach you to block it out when you get here.
It’ll take me a week to get there, I tell him as I throw my covers off. It’s nearly two hundred leagues from here.
Make it two days, boy, he says firmly.
Gulping down air, I reply, Yes sir.
Chapter Thirteen
The sky is aflame with purples and pinks and deep oranges. Even though my grandfather urged me to rush, I can’t help stopping to stare at the sunrise. It fills me up with a special kind of eternal hope, as though in the end it doesn’t matter how ugly my life gets, because the sun is always there to set the sky on fire. Nothing can stop the sun from doing that.
