by TurtleMe
From the two serrated horns curled underneath his ears and the bloody cape that mirrored his bright red eyes, it was unmistakable: It was him.
It was the Scythe that had killed Sylvia.
239
Wavering Pillar
My time with Sylvia flashed through my mind, and I relived the months I spent with her in an instant. The bond that had formed between us had been greater than the sum of our days together; to a grown man born into the body of an infant, Sylvia had become my solace. In front of her, I could truly act like myself, and to her—even combining my age from both lives—I was still just a child.
To this day, one of my biggest regrets was leaving Sylvia. I was young and weak then, but I still thought about it—what would’ve happened if I had stayed. Would she be alive today? Would she still be with me now?
At first, I wanted nothing more than to get revenge for her. The message she had imparted onto me about enjoying this life did little to dampen the rage I felt towards the demonic being responsible for her death. However, as time passed, the thirst for vengeance had slowly dissipated.
At the back of my mind, as I trained in the dungeons, went to school, especially when I went to Epheotus, I knew it was all put into motion by my hurried flight from Sylvia’s cavern. Being suddenly reminded of that, however, I felt a stronger sense of guilt than anger.
I was more angry at myself, for how little I thought about Sylvia these days, than I was angry at the Scythe in front of me—the one responsible for Sylvia’s death.
“It’s you,” I seethed, gripping the hilt of my sword to keep my hands steady. “That night! You were the one that—”
Movement behind the Scythe caught my eye, and I realized that I had been so focused on the Scythe I hadn’t noticed what was around me. Near the far wall, Virion’s prone form—deathly pale and motionless— lay sprawled over a pile of rubble. Bairon sat next to him, flitting in and out of consciousness.
“They’re alive, for now,” the Scythe said conversationally, seemingly unfazed by Dawn’s Ballad hovering just under his sharp chin. I infused the blade with an aura of wind and frost, but the Scythe continued to calmly study me, like one might study an interesting cloud or an unusual rock. “It’s impressive to see you wielding mana to such a proficient degree, even if it was due to Lady Syl—”
His body blurred a few feet away, dodging the elemental blast released from my blade with inhuman speed and precision. The castle rumbled in protest as its mana-reinforced walls cracked and splintered.
“Don’t you dare say her name,” I growled, preparing to strike again.
Tendrils of mana coiled around me, their intensity mirroring my emotions. The ground underneath me crumbled from the pressure as I swung once more, drawing a teal arc in the air.
My opponent stood still though, letting my blade slice right through him—or so I thought.
The gash that my sword had made through his neck smoldered in flames before closing the wound as if it didn’t exist.
Through Realmheart, I was able to tell that he was manipulating his black flames to such a high degree that he could become almost intangible, like smoke.
‘Arthur!’ Sylvie called out through our telepathic link, just arriving.
Sylv! Help Virion! I ordered, my gaze shifting back and forth between Tessia’s grandfather and the Scythe standing just a few feet in front of me.
‘What about you? You can’t beat him alone!’ she replied.
Virion’s going to die if you leave him like that!
Wanting to keep the Scythe’s attention on me, I sprang into a flurry of attacks, not just with my sword but every element I had in my arsenal. I launched blades of wind, bolts of lightning, blasts of blue fire, but nothing seemed to hurt him.
After a moment of hesitation, Sylvie ran towards Virion and Bairon.
All I could think of was to stall for time while my bond healed the others. I weaved mana around my hand to ignite an icy white flame, which I spun into an inferno around us, then let the flames freeze solid, encasing the Scythe into a tomb of ice. His burning eyes followed me through the three feet of ice, and his expression remained arrogant, nonchalant.
With a yell, I discharged a ray of lightning at my frozen opponent, pouring energy and power into the spell until the entire room was covered in an icy mist.
If it hadn’t been for Realmheart, I wouldn’t have seen the Scythe strike directly at my face.
I dodged, cursing in my head.
Each previous fight against one of the retainers had left me and Sylvie almost dead. The fight against Uto would’ve killed us if it hadn’t been for the Scythe, Seris. But this time was different. Even against a Scythe, godlike beings able to use mana arts known only to asuras of the basilisk clans, I was holding my own.
Dodging the Scythe’s fire-clad fist, however, made me realize that he seemed to be holding back. I didn’t have time to consider why, only to accept that it was true and attempt to capitalize on it.
The world shifted from monochrome into its negative version as I ignited Static Void, stopping time. I ignored the painful stress caused by using the ability and repositioned myself so I was behind him.
I knew this wasn’t enough though. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t dodge my attack—he didn’t need to.
The mana particles in the atmosphere had all been colorless, unable to be used within the void of frozen time, which made the purple motes of aether stand out all the more.
Lady Myre had told me that, while I could sense aether due to my affinity for all four elements, I might never be able to consciously control them outside of the borrowed power of Static Void.
Running out of time and ideas, I tried anyway. As crazy as it sounded, I called out to the floating specks of aether to help me somehow. I shouted, I pleaded, I prayed within the frozen realm and just when I thought nothing would work, some of the particles began congregating around Dawn’s Ballad, coating its blade in a thin purple aura.
Afraid that this power would soon dissipate, I immediately released Static Void and swung my aether-clad blade.
Despite stopping time, the Scythe seemed to know exactly where I was, as if expecting that I would use Static Void.
What he didn’t expect, however, was that my next attack would be infused in aether.
Dawn’s Ballad flashed in a purple crescent. The very fabric of space seemed to warp around my blade as it passed through the Scythe, leaving a large, hollow gash. His look of indifference turned sour as he grunted in pain. He clasped his chest, and blood burst out between his fingers.
Just from that one attack, my mind swam and my arms felt heavy. A chilling pain radiated from my mana core, but I was able to lift my sword just in time to block a strike from a hand clad in black flames.
The Scythe gripped Dawn’s Ballad in his blazing hand, glaring at me with eyes full of hate and black fire.
I tried to pull my sword free of his grasp, but I didn’t have the strength. I could only watch as the black fire spread from the Scythe’s hand onto Dawn’s Ballad and the bright teal blade dulled and turned gray. Once the black flames had engulfed the blade, it shattered in the Scythe’s hand.
“That is for the injury,” he said quietly, his voice venomous.
I stepped away, putting some distance between us as I gripped the broken hilt of my beloved sword.
The Scythe didn’t pursue. Instead, he turned to where Sylvie, Bairon, and Virion were. “Your aether arts aren’t strong enough to heal their wounds yet, Lady Sylvie.”
“Shut up!” I snapped, conjuring and condensing multiple layers of ice to craft a sword.
“While I’m confident that I’ll be able to defeat you, I fear this castle will collapse in the process of doing so,” he stated, glancing sideways at me. “Relinquish this fortress and I will retrieve the soulfire currently eating away at their lives.”
My body tensed, unwilling to believe him. “You’re just going to let us go?”
I was sure Sylvie
and I could hold our own against him, but a prolonged battle would mean certain death for Virion and Bairon.
“I have already completed my task here, and it has been a long time since a lesser managed to wound me.”
‘Arthur. He’s right. I can’t heal them and I used up a lot of strength earlier trying to save Elder Buhnd.’
Despite my bond’s words, I didn’t lower my guard. With Realmheart still ignited and my conjured sword of ice poised to strike at the Scythe, I asked him the only question that really mattered: “Are Princess Tessia Eralith, Alice Leywin, and Eleanor Leywin still alive?”
The Scythe’s predatory smile sent chills down my spine. “The princess, along with your mother and sister, are safe. You’ll find out more at the appropriate time—if you choose to accept my offer.”
The ice sword dissipated and I released Realmheart. His words settled on my shoulders with the weight of the collapsing castle, nearly driving me to my knees. My greatest fear had been realized. My loved ones had been taken, tools to be used against me in this war, and it was entirely my fault
“W-where are they? What have you done to them?” I meant it to be a command, but my voice came out as a whimper.
“It’s not my place to tell you,” he said, turning from me and walking toward Virion and Bairon.
I flew in silence next to Sylvie, who was carrying Virion and Bairon on her scaled back. The castle got smaller and smaller behind us as we abandoned its crumbling remains, defeated.
‘Arthur, your family is going to be okay,’ Sylvie assured me, her thoughts gentle and consoling.
I clenched my fists to keep them from trembling. I have to save them, Sylv. No matter what, I can’t let what happened to my father happen to Mom, to… to Ellie.
‘I know. We’re going to do everything we can.’
We made camp in a remote area a few miles northeast of Etistin by the Sehz River. The sight of us—two Lances and the commander—in the state we were in would create mass panic.
I built a fire and conjured a stone tent for shelter while Sylvie began healing Virion and Bairon again. After about an hour or so, the worst of the damage had been undone, and they were able to rest peacefully. Sylvie and I sat next to each other in front of the fire, lost in the flame’s dance.
On the surface, all seemed to be calm, but underneath I was a churning, wild, angry mess of emotions. Sitting and doing nothing but waiting ate away at me, but we were both at a loss.
Neither of us said anything for a long time. The sun had set; our camp was lit only by the fire’s flickering orange light. I prodded at it with a stick, not because I had to, but because I would go crazy if I wasn’t doing something.
“What do we do now?” Sylvie asked quietly, reading my thoughts.
“Find Tess, Ellie, and my mom,” I answered.
My bond turned to me, her bright topaz eyes reflecting the light from the fire. I could feel her uncertainty, and, despite her best efforts to keep her thoughts from leaking out, I could hear the question she wanted to ask: ‘Is the war over?’
It was nearly impossible to lie to someone when you shared each other’s feelings and could hear each other’s thoughts. Between us was a cobweb of jumbled emotions, and it was difficult to tell where my thoughts ended and hers began.
Before I could think of a reply, a pained groan drew our attention, and we were both relieved to have a distraction.
It was Virion. He rubbed his head for a moment before bolting up to his feet. A sinister aura enveloped him as he ignited his beast will, his eyes darting around us, looking for danger.
“Virion. Virion! It’s okay,” I said, my arms held up before me.
Disoriented, the commander took a moment to inspect our surroundings before finally realizing we weren’t at the castle.
“What… what happened—the Scythe!” he gasped. “My son! Tessia! Buhnd!” He reached out and grabbed my collar with one hand, his face a mask of panic. “We have to help them!”
I wrapped my arms around Virion, hugging him tight. He struggled, trying to break free from my grasp, frantically telling me that we needed to go back.
Once he’d expended the little energy he had, Virion dropped the first phase of his beast will. And once he had calmed down, Virion wept. The commander, the very pillar of Dicathen, broke down completely.
I thought about Sylvie’s unasked question as I embraced Virion, tears overflowing from my eyes as well.
It sure felt like it was over. It felt like the Alacryans had won. Not only did it feel like they had won, it felt like Agrona had outplayed us at every turn. I had been so arrogant…
What was a mere two mortal lifetimes of experience when compared to an ancient asura’s lifetime of intellect and wisdom?
240
Darkening Grey
“Here.” Lady Vera took a seat beside me, opening a bottle of water and handing it to me. “Drink this and try to calm down.”
I tipped the bottle back and chugged the clear, cool liquid. A soothing sensation spread through me, and immediately, my worries, jitters, and accumulated stresses faded away. I held the bottle up, reading the label.
“Is something wrong with the water?” she asked, worried.
“No, I feel better now, thank you,” I said, taking another drink.
“Good, keep drinking. When you finish it, do some breathing exercises. At this point, we need to keep your body and mind in top shape.”
I stared blankly at Lady Vera—my sponsor, teacher, and mentor—someone akin to an older sister to me. She looked back, smiling in that confident manner that made me feel so safe being at her side.
“You’re almost there, Grey. Just win one more duel and you’ll be the heir apparent until you’re of age to take on the title of king,” she said, leaning in close. “With your skill and talent, this tournament is only a stepping stone for greater things.”
“You’re right.”
I steeled myself, thinking back to Director Wilbeck. It still enraged me how quickly her case had been closed despite the clear evidence that she’d been murdered. It made me suspect that something was going on, but in order to confirm this and get to the bottom of everything, I would need the authority of a king. With the backing of the Etharian Council, I could launch a full investigation, find whoever was responsible, and make sure they faced justice.
“You know that my home country of Trayden and Etharia are allies, but that alliance has been somewhat strained as of late. I have faith that you’ll become a great king that truly bridges the divide between our two countries, Grey.”
The thought of being solely responsible for rebuilding relations between two entire countries made my stomach queasy as my nerves flared again. “You really think so? Even with my background?”
“Your background? You are a member of the Warbridge family, as am I, and do not forget it.” Despite her severe tone, her expression softened into a warm smile. “I’ll make sure no one doubts it, not even you.”
My chest tightened and tears threatened to surface. Swallowing and sitting up straight, I felt a newfound determination. “Thank you, Lady Vera. I won’t let you down.”
“Of course you won't.” She placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “You’ve guessed by now who your final opponent is going to be, right?”
My hands tightened into fists. “Of course.”
Cecilia. I hadn’t believed it when I first saw her enter the arena. She’d disappeared for weeks, then suddenly there she was, stepping into the arena as a contestant for the King’s Crown. My first thought then had actually been about Nico. Had he known? I had tried to speak with Cecilia, but they weren’t letting anyone near her. Then I got to see what she could do first-hand.
“I know she’s an old friend and you two grew up together, but don’t forget that she cast everything aside for this. Forget the rumors; no one has forced her to fight—and with her powers, no one can.”
Just as she finished speaking, Lady Vera’s phone chimed.
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��Hello? What!” She glanced at me. “Okay, I’ll be there soon,” she finished, her voice stern.
“Sorry, Grey, a business partner of mine is here, and I need to run outside to meet him. Be sure to finish that water—and focus on calming yourself.”
I held up the water bottle. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
With a tight nod, Lady Vera began speaking again to whoever was on the other side of the phone. As she reached for the door to exit my personal waiting room, the door swung open, surprising both of us.
“Watch it!” Lady Vera growled at the man, who turned out to be a janitor pulling a cleaning cart.
The thin, bearded man bowed hurriedly before stepping out of the way. “My apologies.”
Clicking her tongue, Lady Vera stepped forward to take a closer look at the janitor but was distracted by something said through her phone.
“I’ll be right there! I want footage pulled up from all angles!” she snapped as she disappeared through the door.
The janitor let the door close, then walked toward me, his head still lowered, face hidden beneath his navy cap.
“You really should be more careful, sir,” I warned. “There are a lot of important people in these halls, people that you don’t want to accidentally anger.”
The janitor didn’t speak. Instead, he looked straight at me and he ripped off his thick, grizzled beard. Then the janitor’s features began to warp slightly, revealing a face that couldn’t have been more familiar.
“N-Nic—”
The janitor—or rather, my old friend, Nico, disguised as a janitor—clasped his palm over my mouth. “Don’t speak too loudly.”
His hand remained until he was sure I had understood.
“Where have you been? You look terrible—that fake beard… is it an altering artifact? Aren’t those illegal?” My voice was quiet, but my tone was manic, and I couldn’t keep from rambling.
