Two decades have passed since war broke out between Kingdom Thumeria and Paleria. No one but the royals know the real reason for the war, but casualties have been high and both kingdoms are suffering.

Erik, an eighteen year old orphan, lost his parents to the war. Now a street kid, he vows to get revenge on those that stole his parents—and his whole life—from him.

Little does he know he’s about to find out why the war has been raging…

and that it’s all his fault.

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Preview below:

Prologue 

Year Sixteen of the war

Sixteen years since Krasoria has seen anything but blood-red skies.

Millions of souls linger in purgatory,

awaiting the victor in an endless war.

To find their place in the higher planes,

where their souls shall forevermore know eternal peace.

Or the underworld,

where more torment and suffering await,

until the end of time.

For the spirits have no love for the weak and the conquered.

Account of Heclan, Thumerian historian 

A street rat circled another in caution, weighing its steps as both gazed up ahead at the prize. Spots of light gray revealed its true color, but it was so marred by dirt and filth, that one wouldn’t be able to tell it from the muddy ground underneath. Its adversary was black and twice as big, though it seemed more worried. They both stood there, still, each waiting for the other to make a move. 

The smaller rat took half a step forward, one eye on the bread crumb and another on its foe. Before it could jump for the prize, the sky darkened around it. A giant foot stepped on the bread crumb, taking it in its pathway and fleeing the narrow, muddy alley. 

“Come on, Erik! We have got to get out of here now! There are five of them after us this time!” a thick, throaty voice called out, after destroying the rats’ chance of a meal. 

“I’m not sure why they are this worked up? It is only a loaf of bread. You’d think they’d send in the entire royal army after us by the looks on their faces,” a calmer voice followed, sniggering, as the two young boys fled the long alley and came out onto a smaller abandoned square. 

It wasn’t late in the day, just after sunset, but for some reason, the square was devoid of anyone but a few wooden carts leaning against tilting walls as if they were the only thing keeping the walls from crumbling. 

“Quit fooling around, Erik! You know what they’ll do to us if they catch us. It’s off to the front lines! And I’m telling you now, I’m not dying in somebody else’s war, least of all those stuck-up Elvens who think they are better than the rest of us.” The older boy growled, as he stopped to catch his breath. He was no more than eighteen years old, and his voice spoke nothing of his build. 

His arms were skinny and his skin pale, with remnants of brown hair trying to breathe from underneath a layer of black dirt and grime on his head. Yet, his freckled face and brown eyes hinted at good lineage, though the rags he was in spoke nothing of it.

“Oh, come on, Myre. This isn’t exactly the first time we’ve done this. Why are you worked up? I would’ve thought it would be amusing for you by now,” Erik smiled, as he came to a stop next to his pale friend. Myre wrestled to catch his breath, hands on his pounding chest as if trying to push his lungs back in. 

Erik was younger than his friend, but that didn’t stop him from calling the shots in their little gang. He was tall and slim, yet his muscular arms showed no signs of the malnourishment his friend seemed plagued with. He kept his long silver hair tied together with a thin cotton thread, and it shimmered under the now rising moon, striking a stark contrast with his small and piercing, dark purple eyes. He was dressed in a sleeveless shirt barely covering the rest of his body, a strange outfit for a chilly night, with a pair of mud-stained black pants that had more holes than fabric. 

“I figured you would be calm and jubilant. It’s my race that almost spits out a lung if they run as much as we did!” Myre hissed at his friend, frowning as he slowly regained composure. 

“What race is that? As far as we both know, we’re of the same race, Myre. I’m just prettier.” Erik laughed. 

Before Myre could wave an angry fist at Erik, they heard the rustling of swords and shields closing in. 

“I thought we lost them!” Erik hissed, his calm demeanor quickly fading away. 

“Where do we go? That road behind us is blocked,” Myre gasped in horror, frantically looking at the three guards coming in from the alley they had just crossed, another four approaching from the other entrance to the square. They all wore the same fiery gaze, their erratic, angry breathing foreshadowing what they had planned for the two boys. 

Myre didn’t get an answer. 

“Erik! Where did you go?” he yelled in horrified surprise, unable to locate his friend. He then averted his gaze at the muffled bang from the road behind. 

He felt like time had stopped for a second, everything slowing down to a halt, including him. 

“Myre! Come quick!”

At the whisper of his name, Myre woke up from his trance. He raced out of the square and into the road, only to find his friend knee-deep in rubble, with fragments of smoke snaking away into the night.  

“What…happened?” Myre murmured, dragging his feet along the long roadway. 

“I don’t know. I think they must have cleared the dead end some time ago,” Erik said. 

“But when? And what was that muffled explosion?”

“I heard it, too. I think it was coming from the other side of the square. Do you think they will set the mages on us for stealing some food?” Erik said, laughing nervously. 

“I don’t know, but I’m not about to wait to find out. Let’s go!” Myre hissed, content with his friend’s answer. 

The two of them ran for a time until they were both out of breath. Myre’s loud, rapid gasps pierced the now pitch-black night, the moon hiding behind a veil of clouds as if offering them a helping hand. They found another alleyway that was as dark as the one they had first crossed, and twice as muddy. 

“How long do you think we can keep doing this?” Myre asked, amid erratic breathing. “One of these days, running from the guards will be the end of me. They won’t even have to ship me out to war to die!”

“We keep doing it for as long as we need to. We do what we must to survive,” Erik slowly said, cold anger engulfing his voice. 

“At least, let’s go to Thumeria or Paleria instead of being stuck in between! Or even in any other place in Krasoria! The continent is huge. There has to be more food there!” Myre hissed in frustration. 

“We need to part ways now, my friend, until things settle down tonight. Let’s meet tomorrow at noon at our spot,” Erik said, patting his friend on the back. 

Myre paused for a second, gazing long at his friend before nodding his head and taking off.

Erik put a hand to his chest, willing his heartbeat to slow down. He took out his half of the bread loaf, slowly sliding down on the mud-stained wall behind to a crouch. He grabbed the bread in one hand, but his gaze was fixed on his other. 

Erik lost track of time for a few minutes, silently gazing at the hand he had waved to blow the wall that had sealed their escape, a skill he had learned growing up on the streets. 

But the hair on the back of his neck stood up momentarily, taking him out of his fugue, and he lifted his head. 

A hooded figure stood several feet away, leaning on a nearby wall and staring at him. Erik could see nothing through the darkness engulfing the stranger’s face. 

“That was some excellent skill you showed there,” a rasp echoed in his head. Erik wasn’t sure if the voice was in his head or if the stranger had talked directly to him. 

“Who are you and what do you want?” he said, slowly standing up and putting the loaf back in his pocket. The dirt and dead foliage on the ground began trembling as he started raising his hand, his purple eyes almost glowing in the barely lit alley. 

“I mean you no harm, Erik,” the voice continued. “I’m just here to tell you that things will get better soon.” The man threw a small roll the boy’s way. 

Erik’s eyes widened and the air in his lungs seemed to freeze as he watched the hooded figure wave his arms in the air, open an opaque portal and vanish within it. The portal disappeared immediately, dead foliage and dust swirling where it had just been.

Erik stood there for a moment, transfixed on the dwindling chaos where the portal had materialized and vanished.

As the surroundings began to calm, so did Erik’s rapid breathing, and he slowly looked down to the roll at his feet.

Slowly, he bent down and grabbed it, looking about in case the hooded man appeared again. When he unfurled it, he smiled at the cheese and apples within.

Chapter 1 

The sound of wrestling blades was almost deafening in the otherwise peaceful garden. Birds chirped violently, swirling around a large tree without settling down, as if waiting for the fight to stop so they could enjoy a quiet afternoon.

Two young boys clashed swords, both expertly wielding their blades and trying to inflict the killer blow.

The younger boy, a ten-year-old with purple eyes and black hair, managed to snatch his opponent’s weapon by striking a blow to his foe’s sword, tossing it into the air and then his hands, shoving him to the ground. 

The other tumbled. Before he hit the ground, he waved his right hand and an invisible wave hit the purple-eyed young warrior, throwing him several feet in the air. 

“Morack! You know no magic is allowed in sword duels,” an older man dressed in a black cloak reprimanded the boy, taking menacing steps towards him. His bald head reflected the sun’s rays, but his dark, black eyes seemed to swallow the light. His features were minimal, a small nose and shaved beard, as if his face could only contain a pair of dark eyes and nothing else. 

“I’m sorry, Master Jeofrn. I didn’t mean it; the wave just burst out of my hands and hit Leorin,” Morack said, a slight grin making its way to his face for a brief second. 

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it. You’ve only been training in magic since birth, which is what, twelve years? Accidents do happen, indeed,” Leorin said, grinding his teeth in anger while getting up, Morack’s little grin not lost to him. 

“Listen to me, boy. Magic corrupts, especially offensive magic that inflicts harm unto others. It is a power that is only to be used in the direst of situations,” Jeofrn said, now standing right over the boy, the mage’s eyes getting even darker. 

“It seems like fun and games to you, but magic has consequences, and they are not to be taken lightly,” the mage hissed, pointing to the now dead birds at the bottom of the large tree in the garden, blackened, smoke crawling up from them in tendrils. “Your magic powers have the ability to save lives or destroy them. Be careful of the choices you make, boy.” 

“Tell us the story of how we will be kings again, Master?” Morack said, nodding nervously and trying to change the subject. 

“You’ve heard it a million times. And you’re not king yet, boy. Your father has a long life ahead of him; his royal blood guarantees it,” Jeofrn said, turning his back to the boy and waving his right hand. The weapons vanished. “Now, go get cleaned up and dressed, and prepare for dinner. Royal families from Thumeria and Paleria don’t get together every day,” he added, as he waved his hands.

The boys looked on nervously as a portal started to form in the air, everything around it spiraling out of control, the burst of magic blowing even the dead birds away. 

The abyssal portal formed, dark and non-reflective. The mage turned for one last look at the boys and then stepped into the darkness, vanishing. 

“Told you I will always beat you!” Morack sniggered, as soon as the mage disappeared, a grin on his face. 

“You didn’t beat me! I won, fair and square!” Leorin hissed in anger. 

“Whatever, Leorin,” Morack said, laughing. “Such a weak power you people have. What, you want to know what I had for dinner? Do all Thumerian royals possess such trivial abilities? Reading minds? Moving objects?”

“You know some of us can wield elements of nature just like you,” Leorin said, as he turned his back to Morack, walking towards the garden fence. 

The walls of the royal palace stretched for hundreds of feet down, with no stairs leading to the impenetrable fortress. There was only one road in, and it was heavily guarded, despite being a secret known only to a few. 

Most guests would arrive in portals opened by mages, for entrance to the royal palace was strictly prohibited for commoners.  

Leorin looked below and stared at the small houses he could barely see from afar. He couldn’t see much from that distance, but he felt sadness engulf his heart.

The dwellings were distant, but he could sense they were modest. He wished he weren’t a royal for one day so he could leave the palace and see for himself if all the awful stories he heard were true. 

“Can’t wait to rule all that, can you?” a grinning Morack said, poking Leorin out of his thoughts. 

“Rule what? I don’t even know what’s down there, you fool,” Leorin murmured, without turning around. 

“What do you need to know? You are of royal bloodline, and everything you see is yours by law. Those people are your subjects, and you will rule them when your old man dies in a century or two, if you’re lucky.” Morack’s resonating laugh echoed, causing Leorin to grind on his teeth again, fists clenching. 

“You will make a lousy king one day, Morack. I pity the people of Paleria.”

“Why? Because I beat you in a duel? You should be thankful it wasn’t a magic fight, or you’d be target practice! Now, let’s go. Our parents await, and you know they don’t like to be kept waiting,” Morack added as he jogged back to the entrance of the vast garden. 

Leorin lingered for a few minutes, watching the broad, muddled horizon up ahead. He then turned to face the royal palace, looking at the ornate columns reaching up to the sky. He began to walk, slowly, the sun making its way beyond the horizon and opening the way for the moon to occupy the sky. 

* * *

“Those royal kids are too annoying. I swear by the spirits I will hex one of them some day,” Jeofrn hissed in anger.

An old man sitting in a dark brown room, engulfed by books and manuscripts on his desk and on the floor, turned to the angry mage with a smile on his face. 

“Would you like some tea, old friend?”

“Very well.”

The older man put some books aside, taking out a rusty pot from underneath a dusty table. He then made his way to a desk in the corner of the room, removing several manuscripts and maps to reveal it wasn’t a desk at all, but a kitchen table with a small burner.

“What ails you?” he asked, adding the water and lighting a flame under the pot with a piece of paper drenched in oil, lit from a nearby torch. 

“You know what ails me, Heclan? Those books you have lying around everywhere! You’d think your bed is made of books!”

“I’m a historian, old friend. I need those books to learn of the world and tell its tales,” Heclan said, laughing. 

“You keep living in the past, historian. It is the future that worries me,” Jeofrn said, straying to a small window that was barely visible amidst the pile of surrounding books. 

“And what worries you, friend?”

“You know the answer to that question. This is the fifth generation of royal families, and each one is worse than its predecessor. What will become of this world in a few years’ time?” the mage said, still gazing out the window. 

“I hear the crown prince shows promise,” the historian said, carefully choosing his words. 

“Leorin does. But what difference will it make? By the time he comes to rule, he will be too far gone. His rule will be just like his father’s, who will rule for decades more to come. The boy will probably be a hundred when it’s his time to become king. Do you think he’ll be a good one by then, after practicing magic for that long?” Jeofrn hissed in frustration as he turned to face the historian.

“It is the way of the world, my friend. This is the way it has been for the past three centuries, and probably for the next few.” Heclan shrugged. 

“And you have no take on the matter? The affairs of men mean so little to you, old fool?” The mage grunted.

“It is not my role to have an opinion on such matters, old friend. I just document everything that happens. Such is the role of a historian,” Heclan said, bowing theatrically. 

“Bah. You have been alive longer than most people in this kingdom and others. Has it always been like this?” 

“Like what?”

“You know what goes on in the streets! People are killing each other for scraps of food, while royals eat gold-covered meat! And you know what they do for fun with the humans, don’t you?” Jeofrn burst. 

“You know it is your royal duty to advise the king, and train his offspring in the art of magic, and then advise them when they become kings, right, mage?” Heclan slowly said. 

“I do. It is my sworn duty, and I will continue to serve the kingdom of Thumeria until the day I die. I just wish I served better kings,” Jeofrn said, head down. 

“You asked what the world was like before the kingdoms rose to power. Do you really want the answer to that?”

“I do.”

“Chaos. The world was in chaos. People didn’t eat scraps; they ate each other, quite literally. Then the spirits intervened and bestowed the power of magic and the will to rule to a select few, and the world you see right now is the outcome of that,” Heclan said, standing up. 

“What are you trying to say, old man?”

“What I’m trying to say is, regardless of your opinion of the world today, it is much better than it was three hundred years ago. The world would not survive without those in power, and chaos is much worse than poverty or suffering,” the historian said, resting a hand on the mage’s shoulder, offering him the tea with the other. “Trust me, old friend. If the royals weren’t there, we would all suffer for it.”

“What if one of them were good? Why can’t there be a fair one in this or other kingdoms!” the mage murmured. 

“I wouldn’t keep my hopes up, but cling onto that if it will help you serve and fulfill your duty,” the historian shrugged. 

* * *

Leorin stood in front of the mirror in full regalia, sighing. He hated official ceremonies between kingdoms, and when it was that time of month, he often wished he had teleportation abilities like the mages so he could vanish into thin air and escape the mundane formalities and the disingenuous smiles. 

He looked at his dark red bowtie, tucking his white shirt into the black baggy pants that hung awkwardly over his long black boots. He turned a little to the side, looking at the cape that shared the same color of his boots and pants, a small smile making its way to his face. He stood on one foot, spinning and admiring the way the cape flew with it. He did that every time he put it on.

Gentle knocks on the door interrupted his moment of joy, and he turned to find his mother entering. Her rose dress and sparkling crown shone brighter than any of the candles in his room. 

“Are you ready, my boy? Our guests are being seated, and we have to go meet them,” she gently said, patting him on the back. 

He nodded and followed her out of the room and into a wide hallway that seemed to stretch without end—another reason why he wished he had teleporting powers. They walked in silence until they reached a large golden door. 

“I know you don’t like these ceremonies and the pleasantries that come with them, but that is what being a crown prince means, my love,” his mother said, standing at the door with her eyes focused straight ahead. 

“Why doesn’t Liliac have to go through all this? She just needs to come and smile until the bloody night is over!” Leorin murmured. 

“Your sister won’t be king when your father passes away. You will be. She will marry one of Paleria’s princes and live there for the rest of her life. It is you who will linger on here to rule,” she said, slowly turning to face him. 

“I hate that she’s marrying that vermin, Morack,” Leorin hissed in frustration. 

“Listen to me! You are young now, but you are not a child anymore. I know you have strong feelings about Morack and his entire family, but you need to get over them,” she burst out without moving her lips; Leorin could hear her voice in his head. 

“Those events you hate so much are key to keeping the peace between Thumeria and Paleria, and if you complain so much now, what will you do when you’re king? It doesn’t matter what you feel about them. Paleria is the only kingdom in Krasoria that is as powerful as Thumeria, and you have to keep the peace at all costs. Do you hear me, boy? 

“That peace between our two kingdoms is what’s keeping this continent together. If a war erupts, other kingdoms might seize the opportunity and dethrone us. The alliance between us and them must last. Do you understand? Or, do you want your legacy and kingdom to come to ruin?”

“No, mother. I understand. Peace must prevail,” Leorin muttered, dropping his head in shame. 

“Good. Now, put on your royal ceremony face for those fools,” she whispered, looking at him with a shadow of a smile on her face.

* * *

Music helped the young prince drown out the noise and the laughter in the hall. Leorin’s eyes were fixed on the musicians, proficiently playing the instruments, heads lowered. None dared look up. 

They were dressed in servant attire, customary for royal slaves bred to serve, their pale skin and bald heads revealing their true origins, as did their broad, aging faces, even the younger ones. They weren’t entirely human, or so Leorin thought. 

“I guess a pig will always remain a pig, even if you dressed him in clean clothes, right, Your Highness?” a laughing Morack said, playfully tapping Leorin’s hands as he stood next to his table. He looked at the Palerian prince for a moment, before smiling and nodding.

Leorin then strayed again while Morack continued talking. The Thumerian and Palerian royals were seated at a large banquet, with both kings seated at the center of the table, each with their queen and children to their side. 

To the right and left of the main banquet were two smaller tables, forming a rectangle with a missing side. The tables’ guests were seated at a lower level than the two kings, despite being royals of some sort.

Leorin wondered for a second who those royals were, though he guessed they were from other kingdoms. But they were never important enough for anyone to tell their tales. 

It was something else that occupied him, though. The food was so plenty that Leorin wondered how the table was holding all this up without collapsing.

The food on this table alone could feed all of Thumeria for a month. What a waste.

“Prince Leorin is to be engaged to Princess Roania. It is settled then,” a loud voice said, with a thundering laugh echoing in the hall. 

The words took Leorin out of his thoughts, and he looked to his right to see King Moras, father of Morack and Roania, laughing and looking at him. The prince froze for a second, trying to grasp the fact that he, a ten-year-old, was engaged to a girl he’d only seen once or twice.  

“What do you say, boy?” his father, King Viam, said in his deep, authoritative voice. 

“It will be my honor, King Moras, to marry your beautiful daughter when I am of age,” Leorin said, standing up and bowing in the direction of the Palerian King, stealing a glimpse at the princess who was two years younger. She was playing with her plate, wagging her finger and moving it up in the air, seemingly unaware of what was going on. 

Leorin had talked to her before, and he knew she was much smarter than she let on. Her white hair always fascinated him, as did her magical abilities, but he never felt any love for her. 

What do you know of love? You’re a child. You will grow to love her. You have to do it. For Thumeria.

“Then it is settled. In a few years, another royal wedding will strengthen the everlasting friendship between our two kingdoms,” King Moras said, waving his hands theatrically, creating a large fire dragon at the end of the hall. It was soon squelched by a water surge that burst out of a fountain in the middle of the hall with a gesture from King Viam, flooding the servants that were walking into the room with platters. Both kings got a good laugh out of it. 

“You’re lucky,” Morack sniggered, still standing next to Leorin. 

“Why is that?”

“The mages tell my father my sister is adept in controlling wind, fire, and water. She can even control lightning. With your brilliant ability to know the color of people’s undergarments and what they had for lunch without anyone telling you, you’d create a powerful offspring.”

“Yes. I’m sure we will,” Leorin murmured. 

* * *

“Why aren’t you inside with your king, celebrating the next royal engagement?” a calm voice said to a hooded man standing on a balcony overlooking the city. 

“Why aren’t you with yours, mage?” Jeofrn shot back, turning to face the other mage, dressed in exactly the same outfit as his, only brown, not black. 

“You know me, Jeofrn. I was never one for social events.”

“We’ve always shared that, Mal. What do you say we take a walk into the city?”

“Allow me,” the mage said, waving his hands and creating a portal into which both walked. 

The portal reopened in a small alley leading into a crowded square. The stench of horse manure reeked, intertwining with another powerful odor of rotten eggs. 

“I’m not really sure what you like about these city strolls, Jeofrn. What business is it of yours what the commoners are doing and what particular filth they’re basking in every time we come?” Mal murmured. 

The two mages had put on their hoods as they made their way into the crowded square. The floor was as muddy as it was full of all sorts of manure, and Mal felt dizzy. His stomach rumbled at the assault of smells attacking his nose.

The square had an assortment of dark brown brick houses, each looking like it had been put together in a hurry. The one-floor houses had a single window each, barely enough to fit a head out, and their color was that of grime and mud, so much that a bystander would think they were an extension of the ground. 

The people in the streets were plenty, much more than the houses could hold.  

“Why is it this crowded here today? It usually isn’t when we come for a walk,” Mal wondered. 

“It’s market day. Today’s when the royal carts arrive and sell food,” Jeofrn muttered, disgust in his voice. 

Mal started noticing that people weren’t just gathered in the streets, but they were centered around certain points where armed soldiers were standing. Loud voices drew the two mages towards one of the carts. 

“Give us more, sir! Please!”

“Just an extra loaf. I beg of you! This is the only money I have! The nobleman will pay me next week, but my kids are hungry.”

“Damn you! We have mouths to feed!” 

Intertwined voices kept getting louder, and a host of malnourished men dressed in rags drew closer to the carts. One of the guards unsheathed his sword in anger, the swoosh of the blade drawing others to his location.

The hungry mob still made a push for the bread and cheese on the cart, blinded by hunger. 

“Let’s go, Mal. I’ve seen this before, and it won’t end well,” Jeofrn murmured, making his way onto a road to his right. 

Mal followed and then stopped for a moment, face cringing and wrinkling. “What is that awful smell?” he yelled in anger. 

“Look to your right,” Jeofrn said, eyes straight ahead as he continued walking. The other mage looked, and a gasp escaped him at the sight of flies swarming around a corpse, but that didn’t seem to stop the rats from enjoying their meal. 

Yet, that wasn’t why he gasped. 

“Is that…a young boy sleeping next to the corpse?” Mal asked in horror, his eyes widening and eyebrows knotting.  

“Yes. The corpse is the boy’s father. Tell me, Mal. Do you think the kings and queens of Thumeria and Paleria are fair?”

“To whom?” Mal asked, looking back at the screams coming from the square and the sound of rustling blades growing louder. 

“Whom do you think?”

“That is not our judgment to make,” Mal murmured, sensing a lump making its way down his throat. “Besides, what can we do? We’re a bunch of middle-aged mages who can move from one place to another and do some visually captivating magic tricks.”

“I don’t know what we can do. But we must do something. Soon.”

Chapter 2

“Your move, brother,” a calm brooding voice echoed in a wide decorated chamber, as a young man sitting across from him moved a piece over a board. 

“What move you fool?!” purple-eyed Jumen hissed in anger, frowning at the table. “I have none. You won. You just wanted me to say it, didn’t you?” he added, blowing the long black hairs dangling on his forehead in frustration. The rest of his long hair was tied together by a ribbon, holding it together as it flowed down his back. 

“Right you are, brother of mine,” the other one laughed. “You may have been blessed with magical abilities, but when it comes to strategy, you will never be a match to my skills.” A hint of bitterness engulfed his voice. 

“You know I didn’t ask to be blessed with such power, Caligon. If it were up to me, you would be the heir to father as his firstborn. But it isn’t. Such are the laws of our country,” Jumen added. Despite being much younger, his eyes conveyed wisdom as if he’d seen much in his lifetime. His shaven face showed his jawline clenching in frustration, but his handsome features would often detract from that sentiment, as most around him couldn’t tell he was angry. 

“Yes, Jumen. I’m sure you resent having to inherit the biggest and wealthiest kingdom in Krasoria,” Caligon said, knocking all the pieces on the board and slowly getting up. His thick eyebrows were in knots, blue eyes shining underneath them. There was often redness behind those blue eyes, but it was impossible to tell if it was out of constant frustration or insomnia. “You’re only seventeen, and I’ve lived for twenty-three years before you even walked this earth. Yet, it is you who will rule in father’s stead,” Caligon continued, his broad shoulders blocking the window. His build was like that of a gorilla, and a temperament to match one, though he often managed to mask his rage. His goatee was carefully trimmed, in stark contrast to the black hairs which hung about his head aimlessly and in all directions. 

“At least you will enjoy the long lifetime that comes with our bloodline.” Jumen smiled nervously. “Now, where is Father?”

“King Leorin is meeting with King Morack in Paleria. I will join him there to enjoy the hunt,” Caligon murmured, still gazing out the window. “I don’t suppose you will be joining us?” He sniggered, back still turned. 

“I don’t understand how you can partake in that madness. Even your father doesn’t like it. Using innocent people for magic target practice? This is madness!” Jumen hissed in frustration. “When I’m king, this practice will stop in Thumeria.”

“Oh, but you’re not king yet, brother, are you?” Caligon said, turning at last to face Jumen, smiling. “Compassion is weakness. A king’s heart should have no room for mercy. How else will you conquer your enemies?” Caligon added.

“I disagree. Besides, what enemies? We haven’t had enemies in centuries!” Jumen grunted. His brother didn’t say anything but stood there smiling. 

“I’ll take my leave now. I have to go to Jeofrn’s room to make my way to the land of the beautiful maidens.” Caligon bowed theatrically, and moved towards the guarded door, which was opened for him as soon as he approached. 

As Caligon made his way down the vast hallways, his thoughts raced against his pounding heart. He even found himself five rooms after the mage’s quarters, turning back again. 

Laws. What nonsense. If my father wasn’t as weak and gullible as my younger brother, he’d have changed them already. What’s the point in having a firstborn if he won’t rule?

“Knock first.” His thoughts were interrupted by a dry voice coming from the mage’s room. 

“How did you know it was me, Jeofrn?” He stopped, hands on the knob. He didn’t get an answer. Caligon froze for a second before knocking twice. 

“Come in.”

“Was there someone else in there with you? I thought I heard a second voice,” Caligon wondered.

“You heard wrong.”

“You know, mage, one would wonder which of us ruled whom,” the prince scoffed. 

“You don’t rule over me, boy.”

“I’m forty, mage. Stop calling me boy!” Caligon’s lips tightened. 

“And I’m well over two hundred and forty,” the mage sniggered. “Is there something that you wanted, Prince Caligon?”

As if the mention of his title soothed him, Caligon smiled and went to a nearby seat. “I’d like to go to my father now. I would like to witness the hunt.”

“Is that really necessary?” the mage murmured, getting out of his chair and onto his feet. 

“My father awaits me, mage. Let’s go.”

Jeofrn paused for a moment before nodding. “Let’s get outside so I can open a portal,” he said as he moved towards the door. 

“I don’t feel like walking all the way to the garden. It’s a large palace. Do it here.”

“Portals create waves of magic that could destroy such a confined space,” the mage said, his back turned to the prince and grinding his teeth. 

“Open the portal, mage. Please,” the prince scoffed. 

“Very well,” Jeofrn said, as he waved his hands. As soon as the portal started forming, the windows in his rooms burst in such violence that Caligon thought his own ears would explode. Papers around the mage’s desk and his bedsheets flew out of the window, as if fleeing for their lives. 

“After you, Prince,” the mage said, pointing to the void up ahead.

* * *

“What say you, old friend? Up for a magic hunt like the old days?” King Morack grinned, as he looked at King Leorin. They were standing at the heart of Paleria on the royal palace’s front yard. 

“I’ll pass… old friend,” Leorin said, looking at the half-naked humans up ahead. They all had iron collars around their neck, with a guard at the end of the ten-person line holding a chain connecting all the collars. 

“Oh, come on. I know hunting humans isn’t exactly fun because they’re stupid, but getting other species often proves challenging. You know the arrangement, and we can’t upset the spirits,” Morack said, eyeing the helpless humans with a wide grin on his face.

“Besides, it’s good for the kids. Teaches them how to control their magic or actually fight. Certainly better than practicing on rocks and pottery or with those mages!”

“Look! Here comes Caligon! I knew he wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Morack said when he saw a portal forming and Caligon coming out of it, followed by Jeofrn, who exchanged a distraught look with Mal, who was also there in the royal crowd. 

“You take Caligon and go,” Leorin murmured. “Where is the crown princess, by the way?” he added, a hint of sarcasm sneaking to his tone, met by a fiery gaze from King Morack. 

“Where is Auralia?” Morack growled. “She always runs away when it is time for the hunt. Find her now,” he barked at a young boy, no more than fifteen-years-old. 

“But father! I want to witness the hunt. It’s the only time when I can see magic being…” The young boy was silenced by a harsh stare from his father’s eyes. He quickly turned and went through the castle door. 

“Let’s continue our meeting for now. We have much to discuss,” Morack said, heading back inside the castle.

* * *

“What do you think you’re doing, Leorin?” Morack hissed in anger, as they entered, alone, into the throne room. Its ceiling was higher than a dozen men standing over one another, walls painted in decorative drawings depicting the rise of the royal bloodline into power and how they came to bring peace to the kingdom of Paleria.

“Forgive me? What do you mean?” Leorin asked.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Morack said, taking angry steps towards the golden throne at the center of the room, right under a glass skylight bringing just enough sunlight to illuminate the king and his throne when seated.

“No, I don’t.”

“What is this I hear of you increasing the rations given to the people? Lowering the prices? Why would you do that?”

“Because the people are hungry. Why else would I do it?” Leorin shrugged, taking a seat at the chair in front of the throne, purposefully placed a step lower.

“Do you realize how bad you are making me look? News travels fast, and people in Paleria are already hearing about the generous King Leorin of Thumeria giving free food and in bigger portions to the people. If I have a rebellion on my hand, I’ll hold you accountable, Leorin!” Morack growled, getting up from his throne and frantically moving around in circles.

“Food is not free. And what business is it of yours what I do in my kingdom, Morack? My people are my people, and I rule them how I please,” Leorin said, jaw clenched. 

“You realize the noblemen in Thumeria are displeased as well?” Morack said, stopping to face the seated king.

“And how do you know how my country’s noblemen feel?” Leorin slowly said, in a dry tone, hands clenching the chair.

“As I said, news travels fast. More cheap food for the people means less money for the noblemen, and I can assure you, if there’s one thing that noblemen hate, it’s less money,” Morack said, making his way closer to the still seated Leorin.

“And as I said, those are my people. You rule over yours how you please, and I shall do the same.”

“So, if riots arise, you have no problem with me slaughtering each man, woman, and child rioting, do you now?” Morack dryly said, heading back to the throne and taking a seat, placing one leg over the other. 

“Do as you will,” Leorin said in a quavering voice, getting up and turning his back to the king as he went to look out the window.

“You see, Leorin, you could never hide your true feelings. Most of us half-Elvens can’t. The curse of being of royal blood, I guess. Your compassion will always get the best of you, my friend, and it will be your downfall one day,” a sniggering Morack added. “Why can’t you be more like Caligon? The boy’s heart is in the right place. He knows what it takes to rule,” he scoffed, shaking his head. 

Leorin still had his back turned to Morack, but the latter felt a surge of magic in the place, a sharp headache attacking his mind for a second, before dissipating like a hasty wave in the ocean.  

“And why can’t you be more like Auralia?” Leorin slowly turned, a cold gaze on his face. “The heir to your throne seems to be compassionate yet powerful. It is fortunate that she is engaged to marry Jumen one day. They will make an excellent king and queen. Remind me again who will rule once she’s married and you’re gone?”

“Maloria. My youngest girl,” Morack said, a hint of bitterness finding its way to his voice as he looked away. 

“So, your heir is not only a woman, but one with the magical ability to… What can she do again?”

“Heal,” Morack said, blood boiling and hands clenching his knees as he tried to keep a calm tone, but his blazing gaze betrayed him.

“Oh. The first woman to rule in the history of all kingdoms, with the magical ability to heal. Too bad Jumen and Auralia can’t…” Morack burst out of his chair before Leorin could finish his sentence. His younger son, Kanen, walked into the room at that exact moment.

“Father, I couldn’t find Auralia anywhere,” the boy said, heart in mouth.

There was silence in the room for a full minute, Morack’s fiery gaze meeting with a half-grin on Leorin’s face, both silent and not flinching. 

“Very well. The hunt goes on as scheduled.”

* * *

Jumen sat in the same garden his father used to enjoy so much at his age, taking his place under the shadow of a large tree and enjoying a history book that Heclan gave him.

Three hundred and eighty years since the spirits have bestowed the gift of magic upon the people of this world. At first, there were only humans and elves, so the spirits united both species to create the powerful lineages that rule over the realm to this very day.

Elves had always been blessed with magical powers, living in their mountains and avoiding contact with the humans that were fighting for food and survival. The spirits, in their wisdom, sought to create creatures that would enjoy the magical powers and beauty of the elves as well as the intellect and adaptability of human beings, and thus the kingdoms of Thumeria and Paleria were created, yet they were not the only ones.

The spirits also created the Vetirs, an inferior race with human-like features, but they were far less intelligent. Their faces were broad, hairless each of them, with wide noses and subdued souls. They were created to serve, so that humans and Elvens would never enslave their own kind. Their kingdom was Vetiria, and Thumerian and Palerian first kings appointed human kings to rule over the mindless beasts, breeding them and feeding them to serve in the two kingdoms.

Bellatarians were created to serve as warriors. Trained from birth to defend and fight for Thumeria and Paleria as their loyal soldiers. The Bellatarians dwelled in Bellataria, and they were ruled by Elven kings, who tried and failed to instill a few dark magical abilities in the warriors so that they could serve in combat. It was then decided that only the royals shall enjoy the gift of magic, the product of Elven and human blood, powerful creatures with not only magic in their lineage but also the will to rule. 

Jumen strayed off for a moment, pondering. He often thought it unfair that only two out of the four kingdoms on the continent were granted privileges and wealth, while the other two were bred and raised to only serve.

“Such is the way of the world, young Prince. If the spirits had created all half-elvens, conflict would arise and those serving would resent their masters and soon wish to rule in their stead. Thus, the world requires inferior species,” his teacher Heclan always used to say.

It made sense to Jumen, and he knew that creating a world of equals would never work. There had to be a distinction so that society could prosper and function. But was such a distinction in its essence reasonable? Who decides on the peoples who get to enjoy a life of prosperity and those who are doomed to suffer from birth until their dying moments?

“What are you thinking of?” a female voice interrupted his stream of thoughts. He looked to his right to see a portal opening and a young girl around his age coming out of it.

“You, my dear Princess Auralia.” He smiled, closing the book. “You know, you’re lucky to have that power of teleportation. You are one of the few royals across history to have been blessed with that power, traveling at will without the need for mages.”

“Oh, it is not as interesting as it looks, trust me. Besides, my mage often tells me every time you open a portal between realms, a part of your soul is the price you pay. Maybe that’s why they’re all cold and cruel.” Auralia laughed.

Her hair was white, like her mother’s, gently flowing down her shoulders like a breeze, with dark-green eyes at the center of her round face, complemented by a small nose and pouty lips. Jumen strayed for a second, admiring her beauty as the portal closed off before her, as he often did when he laid eyes on her.

“What is it like?” he said, shaking his head to focus.

“What is what like?”

“Teleportation. I’ve only tried it as a kid and I don’t remember the feeling,” he murmured.

“It’s cold. My mage says we walk between our realm and the other ones, moving down a narrow path. Stray off, but for a moment, and you might end up alone, trapped in one of those realms with what creatures, the spirits only know, for eternity,” she said, deepening her voice and frowning, before bursting into laughter.

“Come on, don’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not. That’s what he actually told me. I was just trying to scare you,” Auralia said as she sat next to him in the shade.

“What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be practicing magic with our parents and hunting helpless humans?” He frowned.

“You know I hate those ridiculous and cruel hunts. I avoid them whenever I can,” she murmured, turning her face towards the chirping birds. “Besides, I can do some cool tricks with my mind. What good will practice do me?”

“Wait. You ran off again during a hunt? I will never hear the end of this from my father,” Jumen hissed in frustration, getting up.

“I wanted to come and see you. It sure is better than watching our families hunt humans for sport,” she muttered.

“It won’t be long before we are wed, Auralia, but until that happens, we have to play by their rules,” he gently said, smiling.

“So, why aren’t you at the hunt?” she scoffed.

“Oh, my father hates them, too. So, he makes up excuses for me.” Jumen laughed. “Not my fault your father insists on having those cruel hunts every time.” He shrugged.

“My father is a good man, Jumen. He has his flaws, as does your father who still goes to every one of those hunts he says he hates. But he is a good king.” She frowned, arms crossing. 

“I know he is. They both are. But as our historian always says, such is the way of the world.” He smiled.

* * *

“Why don’t you like hunting with us, father?” Caligon asked, a broad sword in his left hand and a jewel-decorated dagger in the right. He and his father were making their way across a thick, intertwined forest in Paleria, where the hunts usually took place since Morack became king.

It was a quiet afternoon, winds blowing and leaves rustling. Leorin’s head was elsewhere during their journey across the foliage, but his son’s question caught his attention, an opportunity to try to teach him a lesson, though that rarely worked with Caligon.

“I don’t find it amusing to hunt helpless humans. I’m an old man now and such activities are of little interest to me,” he murmured, moving a nearby twig out of his way.

“But they are not helpless, father. They are given weapons like the ones I carry,” Caligon sniggered.

“Those people are starved humans who have never held a sword in their lives. You, on the other hand, have been trained since birth by the best swordsmen in Thumeria, Caligon,” Leorin scoffed. “And need I remind you that on the other side of that tree line is Morack with his son and daughter, and there’s a lot of magic there that can destroy humans in a blink of an eye.”

“Oh, it’s only King Morack that has useful magic. His son is like me, worthless, and his younger daughter can heal injuries or raise plants, I can’t remember. So, she’s equally useless,” Caligon muttered, bitterness engulfing his soul as his eyes circled his surroundings, careful not to be surprised by one of the humans.

“Listen to me, boy. You are not worthless,” Leorin growled, coming to a halt. “You are my son, a prince of Thumeria. Your mind is the most powerful I’ve seen. Just because you don’t have magical abilities doesn’t make you any less of a royal than anyone here or in any other kingdom on this earth,” he added, grabbing his son by the shoulders.

“Too bad I can never be king, though, father. I can’t even find a royal Palerian wife, because all of King Morack’s daughters are of magical abilities,” Caligon said in a quavering voice, lips protruding as if holding back the tears. 

“Such are the laws of our kingdom, boy. Those were set forth by the spirits. And we will find you a Thumerian beauty of noble blood to wed,” Leorin gently said.

“Noble…”

Leorin’s gaze swiftly moved from his son’s eyes to his right. He sensed magic in the air. A moment later a loud thud and harrowing screams confirmed his suspicion. 

“Morack must be having fun with…” Before the king could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by a loud grunt. He glimpsed the two half-naked humans who charged at him and his son, the latter raising his left hand to block the first’s hit while throwing the dagger in his right hand at the other one charging.

The dagger pierced the man’s throat, releasing a loud rattling sound when he gasped for air, blood gushing out of his mouth and his eyes turning red. Caligon didn’t wait to see what his dagger achieved, blocking the other man’s sword and turning around him in one swift movement, slicing his throat before he could make another move.

Caligon stood there for a moment, smiling, as the man gasping for air drew his last breaths in his arms, blood flowing. 

“No! No! Please!” He heard a muffled yelp from behind his back. Caligon dropped the lifeless corpse in his hands and rolled to the ground facing the third foe, but he was met with the terrified eyes of the man holding a dagger in his hands, slowly pushing it to his own heart.

He tried resisting, hands trembling as it drew closer to his chest, and he slowly drove the dagger to his heart, eyes bulging in surprise, not pain. He died before he hit the ground.

“Well, thank you Father,” Caligon said, getting up with a wide grin on his face. Leorin stood there with a defeated look.

Chapter 3

“I heard you did excellent today in the hunt,” Morack said at the night feast, laughing at Leorin, seated next to him.

“He did, King Morack,” Caligon, seated next to his father, added, grinning and stuffing his mouth with an entire chicken breast. “You should have seen that poor swine. He didn’t know what hit him. He actually stabbed himself in the heart,” Caligon said, food flying out of his mouth as he laughed.

“And here I thought you were no good at this whole magical thing. Forgive me, old friend, for ever calling your ability useless,” Morack said, poking Leorin in the arm. “Turns out it is quite useful! How come I’ve never seen you use it on someone?”

“Controlling minds is forbidden magic. It should not be practiced under any circumstances,” Leorin said, shifting in his chair.

“Oh, come on father, that’s Jeofrn talking. Surely, you don’t believe that old fool?” Caligon said.

He was met by a fierce gaze from his father, piercing his soul. Caligon coughed violently, feeling the food lingering in his throat.

“Mages don’t set the rules by which we abide, boy. Those rules are in place by the spirits, and we are to follow them lest we incur their wrath,” Leorin slowly said.

“Boy’s right, King Leorin. The rules are meaningless, and the spirits are fools,” Morack said, taking a step back and getting out of his chair. “Remember that fool of a mage you have in Thumeria? He told me before that using magic to attack rips pieces of your soul each time. Well, I’ve been doing it for decades, and my soul is just fine.” He raised his hands, grinning.

“I guess we won’t know until you die, will we King Morack? There’s a seat waiting for you. The spirits only know if it’s up there, or down,” Leorin said, pointing downward.

The grin on his face was met by a frown by Morack, who then quickly forced a laugh when he noticed Kanen and Maloria looking at him. He then took his seat at the center of the table again, next to King Leorin, pointing to the servant to usher in the band.

“So, where is the crown prince?” Morack said, as he gulped a glass of water. “Shouldn’t he be here during the royal hunts?”

“Jumen has much studying to do. He is to be king one day, soon hopefully. And he has plenty to learn about the world and the kingdoms, so he stayed for classes with Heclan, our historian,” Leorin murmured, grabbing a glass of his water himself.

“Oh. That is a new one. First, it was that he fell ill, and your physicians were looking after him. Another time it was him getting injured in a magic duel with Jeofrn. Each time it’s something new with the crown prince,” Morack scoffed, looking directly at his counterpart. “It’s as if the prince, heir to the throne of Thumeria, is disgusted by the thought of coming to Paleria, which I find odd since he’s engaged to my daughter and will soon marry her,” he added, getting up again.

“My nephew has always had a weak stomach, Morack. He could never stand the sight of blood, and that’s probably why he never came to the hunt after his first time,” Queen Liliac added, grabbing an apple from a nearby bowl full of them, and biting it without looking at either king.

“Your nephew will be king one day. He’d do well to get used to the sight of blood. How else would he fare in combat if a war should arise?” Her husband laughed.

“How have you fared in combat, King Morack? Remind me again which battle have you won?” Leorin scoffed, getting out of his chair and walking towards his childhood friend. “Oh, wait, you haven’t won any, because there were never any! The last great battle took place before Thumeria and Paleria were even formed. My son has no need for blood and suffering, for they will never be part of his reign,” Leorin said, facing Morack at the center of the hall, leaning on the table on which the food was placed.

“But he might, my dear friend. You never know what tomorrow might bring, and a king’s lifetime is long. He might just find himself in a battle or two,” a grinning Morack said. “It would do him well then to have a certain lust for blood, like his much older brother here,” he added, pointing at Caligon, who sat there quietly, observing the reaction of each person in the room and carefully considering every word.

Yet, it was not the mention of his name that brought him joy, but the addition that he was much older than the heir to the Thumerian throne. It felt right, mentioning this fact in front of everyone, showing them who deserved to rule.

“Well, it’s a good thing, King Morack, that in your long years as ruler of Paleria, you have not seen a single battle. I remember you weren’t very good with the sword,” Leorin sniggered, knowing that would hit a nerve, and it did. Morack’s grin quickly turned into a frown, and he paused there for a moment, eyeing Leorin.

“Who needs swords when you have magic?” Morack grumbled.

“You can only do magic for so long in battle before your powers are drained. Trust me, you will need a sword.” Leorin laughed. Before Morack could respond, a female voice interjected, walking into the room.

“Do you boys need a pair of swords to settle this right now?” A tall, crowned woman said as she walked into the room. She raised both hands, and two swords were conjured between them in a blink of an eye.

“Or perhaps axes?” she added, with the two swords disappearing and axes coming in their place.

“Hello, sister.” Morack feigned a smile as Roania walked into the room. She was taller than both kings, and a golden crown adorned her head, striking a majestic contrast with her long silver dress.

“Apologies, King Morack, for the delay. I had some matters to attend to at Thumeria,” she said, slightly bowing.

“What business does a woman have to do in a kingdom?”

“As much business as your beautiful daughter Maloria will have one day when she rules Paleria.” She smiled.

* * *

“Have you met with him yet?” a hooded man clad in brown whispered in a large, dusty room, with nothing occupying it but a few shelves, with a couple of books on them. The room didn’t have a window, and it was completely dark, yet both men seemed to see each other well.

“Yes, I have,” replied Jeofrn, in his usual black attire.

“What did he tell you?” asked Mal the mage. When he asked that question, the other one reached out with a dry piece of paper, wrinkled and ink-stained.

“He showed me a prophecy,” said Jeofrn calmly. 

“This smells like a grave.” Mal cringed, reading it. “But it confirms now what we suspected. What we have been preparing for the past fifty years. Was this written by the spirits?”

“No one knows, but that is likely. They probably left it the last time they were on earth, reshaping our world to what we know today,” Jeofrn replied, with a considered response.

“Jeofrn, we can’t act based on a piece of paper that smells like a corpse. You’re talking about betraying our royal oaths here. If we’re captured, it’s beheading, or worse!” Mal said in a panicked voice. 

“Listen to me, Mal. The man who gave me this is the oldest person alive in the world. An Elven that was around since before the spirits came and forged the kingdoms. He lives in exile now, uninterested in the affairs of men. It took me twenty years to find him! Why would he lie to me? Oh, and that is not a dried-up piece of paper. It’s human skin.”

“Ugh! Why would anyone write a prophecy on the skin of a human?” Mal said, tossing it to Jeofrn.

“I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter,” Jeofrn burst. “Do you understand what this means? The kingdoms can finally know actual peace and prosperity if we manage to find him!”

“What makes you think it wasn’t Leorin, and we lost our one chance? He seems to be the only reasonable king to have lived for centuries. Maybe we lost!”

“We haven’t even begun so we couldn’t lose, you old fool,” Jeofrn hissed. “Besides, this is a risk that I’m willing to take. We have to. For the better of this world. Leorin has known nothing but this life since his birth, and we need someone who knows suffering. That’s how he can undo it,” Jeofrn said, leaning against one of the walls in the dark room.

“So be it, then. We steal the next one, and may the spirits have mercy on our souls,” Mal added, leaning next to his friend.

“The spirits will sit this one out. It’s up to us to fix their mistakes, even if it costs us our souls.”

* * *

“Did you give it to them?” a cloaked man asked, hiding in the shadows of a tree. It was a dark night, the moonlight barely making its way through the intertwined trees engulfing an old house, hidden in the forest.

The house was made out of wood and seemed older than the forest itself, black in color and full of holes. The other man stood at the entrance of the house, gray hairs scattered across his forehead, barely covering his bald head. His skin was cracked, wrinkled beyond recognition. Yet, there was a certain potency to his red eyes, shining bright despite the surrounding blackness.

“I have,” a raspy voice burst out of the man’s mouth, revealing no teeth and black gums.

“And your reward?”

“Death. I ask only that you kill me.”

“And why is that old man?”

“I was cursed by the spirits for refusing to take a human spouse. I am now bound to live forever, decaying in agony as the world moves past me, stuck in this grim forest until the end of times.”

“Well, if it is any consolation, I was going to kill you anyway,” the cloaked man said, a grin audible in his voice. He had leaped in the air before he could finish his sentence, drawing a sword and beheading the older man in one swift blow.

The cloaked man then turned and made his way back to the tree line, where he was met by another, hooded in black.

“Let’s go,” the first ordered.

The hooded figure waved his hand. The surrounding trees were uprooted, leaves flying and twigs swirling in anger. A portal formed where several trees once stood, and the two men walked into it, vanishing into thin air.

There was a quiet in the forest, the billowing leaves free-falling to the ground, bringing everything back to normal and the quietude that the trees had always known. A screeching sound emerged to silence the curious animals once again. Even the trees seemed to halt their sway, waiting to see what happened.

The decapitated head started moving slowly on the foliage, making its way to the body, which seemed to regenerate itself, joining the tissues, nerves, and bones until it was whole again. A loud gasp pierced the night as the old man came back to life.

He sat there on the ground, motionless, looking up. A tear escaped his eyes.

* * *

“You know, Thumeria and Paleria should be one kingdom, ruled by one king,” Caligon said, peeling an apple with a dagger as he sat behind his brother in a large chamber. They were surrounded by books and manuscripts. 

“What? Are you out of your mind?” a startled Jumen replied, turning to face his brother.

“You heard me, brother. You are to wed the princess soon, and she is the only powerful one of that lineage,” the older brother added.

“The younger daughter is insignificant, not to mention too young. The boy is a halfwit, and he has no magical abilities,” Caligon said. “Besides, do you know what would happen if a woman rules over one of those kingdoms? It would be chaos,” he burst, jumping out of his chair. “The other kingdoms will rebel against us, the warriors and slaves will think us weak if we allowed this to happen. Not to mention the nobles! Do you think they’d pay the taxes to a woman?”

“Our aunt may yet bear King Morack another child. They are both still young,” Jumen frowned, trying to get out of the room.

“Oh, but he can’t. King Morack has been trying to have another child for years, but he is sterile.” Caligon laughed. He went back to his seat, sinking in it more and more, crossing his legs and taking his time with the apple.

“How did you know that, Caligon?”

“He told me,” Caligon answered, devouring the apple slices with his dagger. “We were talking casually, and he mentioned that he would’ve liked a son like me to rule over Paleria when he’s gone, and it’s a shame he couldn’t have one.”

Jumen didn’t say anything. He sat across from his brother, legs equally crossed and looking him in the eyes.

“And what does this have to do with Thumeria and Paleria becoming one kingdom under one king?”

“The thought just crossed my mind. You’re marrying the heir to the throne soon enough. Why not rule over both kingdoms together, as the rightful heirs to both kingdoms,” Caligon said, stressing the words coming out of his mouth.

“You think Morack would ever settle for that? Hell, you think father would? You know they’ve always been at odds with one another. Just the mention of that thought could start a war.” Jumen grunted, getting up. “Forget that silly notion, Caligon.”

“You’re right, brother. It’s a silly notion to think that you could rule over Thumeria and Paleria. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Caligon added, grabbing an orange this time from the large fruit bowl next to him.

Chapter 4

“Are you nervous?” Jumen asked Auralia at their spot in the garden at Thumeria, shaded under a tree. They were both lying down on the grass, looking up at the sky. It was a peculiarly quiet afternoon. The birds weren’t chirping as vehemently as they usually did, and even the sun coyly hid behind thick clouds that flooded the sky.

Whenever they could both make the time, the two betrothed companions lovers would meet there. They would often not talk. They could just sit there under the tree, looking at the view and enjoying a few silent hours together. They never even had to agree on being quiet; it just came naturally, and they both felt comfortable with the silence and nature around them.

“Well, yes. It’s our wedding day tomorrow. Aren’t you?” Auralia said, hands behind her head, gazing upwards. 

Jumen didn’t reply for a second, laying as she were. A moment had passed before he turned to his right, facing her, and resting his head on his hand.

“I am a little bit, yes. But I’m also excited. We’ve been waiting for this day for years. We’ll probably be the first royals from Thumeria and Paleria to have actually loved each other before they were pledged by kings,” he said, smiling.

“Probably.” She turned to face him, returning his smile.

“What do you think this means for the future of our homes, Auralia?”

“I honestly have no idea. You know our parents aren’t exactly best of friends, but they both still have a long life ahead of them, so we don’t have to worry about that for now.”

“Are you sad about leaving Paleria and living here with me?” Jumen asked, getting up to sit down, leaning on his two hands and stretching his legs ahead.

“A little, but I’m also happy. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and I’m glad that we will finally be able to live together instead of these occasional meetings.”

“You will miss home, though, won’t you?”

“Well, definitely. But we’ll go for the regular royal visits, which should be more than enough.” Auralia laughed, leaning forward and sitting up herself.

“Do you think our kingdoms could ever become one?” Jumen asked, averting his gaze from his fiancée to the horizon.

“I don’t think so. There is too much bad blood between both over the years, and each one has its own problems to handle. I doubt one king could ever handle the troubles of both Thumeria and Paleria.” She shrugged. “Besides, that’s a weird question! Why would you ask that? We’re not exactly the first royals from both kingdoms to wed. There have been dozens before us.”

“So, you think Maloria would make a good queen?” Jumen wondered.

“I think she would make a great queen. She is kind and wise, and the people of Paleria would be lucky to have her,” she answered, her face tensing up. “But I don’t think my father will stop trying to produce a male heir. It seems unlikely that he would settle for my younger sister. Her powers are too frail in his eyes, unworthy of the Queen of Paleria.”

“What about Kanen?”

“Father perceives Kanen to be weak and simple-minded. And he has no magic in him. He’d sooner settle for Maloria. What’s with all these questions? What are you worried about?” She got up, the sun finally making its way amid the clouds.

“Why aren’t you? Tomorrow we’re to be wed, and you will remain here. Aren’t you worried about what happens in Paleria?” Jumen burst up to his feet.

“No! My father still has many years left to rule, as does yours. He will make another child and that child will be king one day!”

“What if your father can’t make any more children? What happens then?” Jumen turned to face the city stretching over the horizon. He didn’t get an answer, so he turned to find a distraught Auralia straying away.

* * *

Jumen walked aimlessly inside the palace walls, a sword hanging from his belt and his cape flying with the wind coming from the small windows. He’d been married for a few months now, but he couldn’t stop worrying about the future of the two kingdoms. The thought that King Morack would bear no more children worried him. He didn’t know what the man was liable to do to stop his younger daughter with weak magical powers from taking the throne once he was dead.

Jumen’s father had often told him of King Morack and his temper. The stories he’d heard about the man did little to put his mind at ease. 

His thoughts raced, and he didn’t notice the guards and servants saluting him as he made his way to his wife’s room. He knocked on the door twice before gently opening it. His wife was seated on a chair, brushing her hair in front of a mirror. She turned at the sound of the door closing, her hair shining under the candle lights.

“What took you so long?” she wondered, putting the brush down and standing up, revealing a small baby bump under her nightgown.

“I had some things to do. Was Mal here today? The air reeked of foreign magic,” Jumen murmured, taking his black boots off and sitting on the bed.

“He was, and he told me some great news,” she said smiling, coming to face her husband.

“What’s that?”

“He said our firstborn will be a boy,” she whispered, sitting next to Jumen on the bed.

“Well, that is great news!”

“That wasn’t all.”

“What do you mean?”

“The mage thinks that our son will be the most powerful prince the kingdoms have ever seen, blessed with magical powers the likes of which we have never witnessed,” she whispered, holding her husband’s hands.

“And how did he come to that conclusion?” he asked, letting loose the belt holding his trousers as he got up. “You shouldn’t believe everything your mage tells you, Auralia.”

“And you don’t trust Jeofrn? Why would Mal lie to me?” She frowned.

“I trust Jeofrn like I trust any other mage in our kingdom. Just because they’re head mages doesn’t make them infallible.” 

“So, you don’t believe our son is going to be different?” Auralia said, a knot in her stomach as she got in bed, throwing a blanket over her body.

“I don’t know. He might be. We will love him either way,” Jumen said gently, smiling at his wife.

* * *

“It’s almost time, Mal.”

“I’m not sure about this,” Mal grunted, looking all around him as he and Jeofrn stood on the palace balcony, the moon high in the sky.

“This is everything we have worked for. We can’t go back now. The wheels are already set in motion,” Jeofrn grunted back, eyebrows in a knot and gaze piercing the night and into Mal’s soul.

“Let me see the rotten scroll again.” Mal reached out, taking the small piece of human skin out of Jeofrn’s hands.

Blood waters the earth and stains the rivers

Screams pierce the night

Corpses are cobblestone

Magic festers in the air

And in the darkest hour, he comes

Born of royal blood, an heir

He who shall inherit these lands and their wealth

All shall succumb to his will

And in his strength, the people will see

What they have not seen before

Justice

Prosperity

Sustenance

But first, the heir must be free of his royal shackles

For the strength to rule and unite kingdoms comes not from privilege and wealth

It comes from pain and suffering

First the heir shall be set free

“Do you think this heir is their unborn son?” Mal murmured, reading the prophecy over and over as if trying to find a hidden clue.

“I do. It has to be. We have no other option but to act now. We don’t know when a male heir of such powerful magical parents would come. It has got to be him,” Jeofrn said, stressing the words as if trying to convince himself not his fellow mage.

“Very well. We have to brief the council before we take any action. They will want to know everything,” Mal grumbled, giving him back the scroll.

“Send the word out. The council of the Madregals meets this time tomorrow.”

* * *

Water trickled down a water wheel laying atop a dried-up well. The sound resonated in that remote field on the outskirts of Vetiria, kingdom of servants. It was a little past midnight, and there was no sound to be heard, not even beasts or crickets.

A round cabin stood at the far-right side of the field, close to a thick, intertwined tree line that could hide a thousand of those houses. But this one wasn’t. It was there for all to see. The black, cracking walls of the cabin blended perfectly with the muddy field that looked like it hadn’t been looked after for years, abandoned and barren.

An inaudible tremor shook the grounds, mud flying and dead leaves billowing as if that tremble had brought them back to life. A portal opened a few feet from the house, formless and stark. Two hooded figures came out of the grim void, unfazed by the surrounding tremors, taking hurried steps towards the cabin door.

A few minutes later, another portal formed, and another. Before an hour had passed, ten others had formed, each with a certain number of people ranging from one to five emerging from them. All of them made their way towards the only structure in near sight.

“I don’t like that we’re meeting here,” Mal said, frantically looking around, trying to look through the tiny window that stood inches above his height.

“Why?” Jeofrn said, back turned to his fellow mage as he stood at the door, welcoming each person making their way through the small door.

“Do you really think this place is discreet? It is a sole cabin in the middle of nowhere! It’s like an invitation to our secret council that could get us all killed!”

“It is discreet. This cabin has been here for hundreds of years. It belonged to an old farmer of Vetiria who was selected by the kings of old for a sacrificial ritual as an offering to the spirits,” Jeofrn said, closing the door after the last person had made it through. “The locals are afraid to go anywhere near that house. They think it cursed.” He smiled, taking his hood off.

“And how do you know of such urban legends of the servant kingdom?” Mal grumbled.

“He told me,” Jeofrn said, pointing to one of the audience in the crowded room. There were close to twenty people there, all hooded, but with varying colors and cleanliness, occupying the entire space of the cabin that had no furniture. The person he pointed to was already taking off his hood, revealing a bald head and a broad face. His face was still, motionless, and revealed no emotions.

Mal glanced at the man before looking the other way, unnerved and mumbling. He didn’t like the fact that the council of the Madregals had a member of the servants’ kingdom. It didn’t bother him that the man was of less social status than him, but rather that he feared he would betray them all.

The Vetirs were notoriously weak-willed, something the spirits made sure of when they created them to serve Thumeria and Paleria. They could easily be swayed, and they had little fight in them, something Mal often resented because it reminded him of the similarities between his race and theirs. Yet, there were often abnormalities within the Vetirs—those who were more intelligent than their peers, and with far less desire to submit.

There had been rebellions in the small kingdom over the years, mostly led by such abnormalities who managed to rally a few supporters around them, seeking freedom from servitude and trying to break the shackles into which they were born. Those rebellions never lasted, and they were often squished by the human kings and their small Bellatarian army.

Mal knew all this, yet he was never comfortable having one of them here, despite Jeofrn assuring him that Verin was one of those abnormalities, capable of thinking for himself and of free will.

“Let’s go, my brothers,” Jeofrn’s words took Mal out of his thoughts. He looked at his fellow mage, who stood against the back wall of the cabin, waving his right hand and whispering a few Elven words.

The wall glowed in a light blue color, some symbols emerging on it, illuminating brighter than the wall itself. A muffled burst broke out as if the entire cabin was being moved, but it was still there.

The wall crumbled on itself, revealing a narrow pathway, dimly lit, leading into the tree line, or rather underneath it. Jeofrn led the way, followed by Mal and the rest of the council members. After the last one made into the tunnel, the same muffled burst was heard, and the wall quickly reformed.

Mal tried looking to his right and left, but there wasn’t enough space for him to turn his head freely—the pathway could only fit one person, never two next to one another. He felt that the walls were closing in on him, his chest tightening. His breath grew louder, rapid.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have our meeting inside the cabin,” the mage hissed quietly.

“First you hated the cabin, and now you want to hold our meeting in it?” Jeofrn laughed. “It might not be visited by the locals, but it is still out in the open and exposed. It is much safer where we are going. No one dares venture into the Forest of the Dead, my friend. The servants bury all their dead within these woods, and no soldier, Thumerian or Palerian, would venture here,” he added.

Mal kept grumbling, his complaints getting lost amid Jeofrn’s laughter.

The convoy reached a small wall at the end of the tunnel, and Jeofrn performed the same ritual he did in the cabin, leading others into their final destination.

As soon as he stepped foot into the room, Mal took a deep breath, audibly exhaling and enjoying the air.

The hall they were in had a ceiling that stood three times as high as the cabin from which they came. That ceiling was supported by walls and columns encapsulating the circular room, a raging flame dangling from each one, lighting the room brightly. At the heart of the hall was a round table, chairs scattered aimlessly around it.

Jeofrn rushed to his seat, pulling a chair and sitting at the table. He pointed to the members still making their way to the hall to take their seats and be quick about it.

“My brothers and sisters, the time has come,” Jeofrn said, as the last member took their seat.

“For what?” a man said across the round table.

“For us to set Thumeria and Paleria on the right path,” Jeofrn added. “The council of the Madregals has been around for decades, growing in number and in power. And now, we have the opportunity to finally set the wheels in motion that would..” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as he was interrupted by a muscular woman sitting two chairs next to him.

“What wheels, mage? Speak directly and make your point,” she grunted. Her short hair and rectangular face showed her origins—a Bellatarian warrior.

Jeofrn took out the prophecy from his pocket, throwing it to a disgruntled Mal, who then read it out loud.

“I have been looking for this prophecy for some time now, and I recently found it. It was written by the spirits as legend goes, and it shows what we have to do next,” Jeofrn growled.

“You’re not suggesting what I think you are! Do you wish to steal the crown prince? The son of Prince Jumen and Princess Auralia? That is madness!” A clean-shaven man hissed, his blue eyes shining in anger and his carefully combed hair flying as he burst out of his chair.

Loud whispers grew in the room, but they were silenced by a gesture from Jeofrn.

“Yes, that is what I am suggesting, nobleman Aarom. This is what we need to do in order to free the kingdoms, or rather unite them.”

“We have been working in the shadows over the years, ever since this council came to life. We helped people as much as we could, and we even incited a few riots here and there,” a blonde woman sitting next to nobleman Aarom said. “But what you are talking about is beyond sedition. We could be hung for this!” she burst out, hands slamming the table.

“I am well aware of the consequences of what I am asking of you, but I am also aware that it is the only way,” Jeofrn calmly said.

“The boy will lead a terrible life. He will be poor. What makes you think he can recover from that?” Mal asked.

Jeofrn’s eyes glanced to Mal, face still maintaining the same expression and without turning to his friend. “Yes, old friend,” he said, stressing on each syllable. “I am well aware he will suffer. But that is what needs to happen for him to unite the kingdoms of Thumeria and Paleria. He needs to know starvation and homelessness so he can spare others the same fate when he is king. You saw the prophecy as I did!”

“And how do you suggest we make him king? We don’t even know how the two kingdoms will react if he is stolen. They might declare war on one another for all we know,” a sniggering voice said.

Jeofrn turned to face the person speaking. He was an old man, dressed in the same cloak as he was. His eyes were pitch black, much like Jeofrn’s, but his scattered facial hair was in stark contrast to the mage’s shaven face.

“My guess is, the two kingdoms will come together more than ever. This will bring Thumeria and Paleria closer as they try to find the Thumerian heir and the son of Princess Auralia. As for how we will make him king, when the time comes, I will share my plan with you. But for now, he will live with a foster family until he is of age. The day he turns eighteen, we will share with him who he really is, and help him take his place on the throne of a unified kingdom,” Jeofrn said, addressing his old teacher, Master Neigen.

“Why eighteen?” Verin asked.

“It is the law in Thumeria and Paleria. No king can be under eighteen… Too bad they don’t have a maximum age limit,” Mal murmured, a look of concern on his eyes which Jeofrn noticed and decided to ignore.

“What about the uncle?” Neigen murmured, getting up for a walk around the hall.

“Prince Caligon is on our side. He even helped us find the old Elven who showed us the prophecy,” Jeofrn rushed to answer before Mal could say anything, giving him a meaningful stare.

“And why is that? Why would King Leorin’s firstborn offer to help a rebel group?” Neigen asked, back turned to the council while he stood too close to the fireplace.

“He too believes in a unified kingdom to bring together Thumeria and Paleria. He believes this is the Madregals’ end goal, and this is why he is helping us,” Jeofrn murmured, his voice rattled, and cold droplets of sweat made their way to his bald head.

“So, you’re telling me the Prince of Thumeria wants to help us out of the kindness of his heart? He will help us steal his nephew so that the kid can rule two decades later?” Neigen smirked, turning to face the council. “You mean to tell us, Jeofrn, that the prince doesn’t want the rule of that kingdom to himself?”

“You know that is not possible!” Jeofrn grunted, getting up himself. “And he doesn’t know we’re stealing the nephew,” he added.

“What do you mean?” Aarom hissed.

“Prince Caligon only pointed me in the direction of the prophecy. He has no idea what is written in it. He just knows it is something about the future of the kingdoms that was written by the spirits,” Jeofrn said, averting his gaze from all eyes in the council room.

“And how much does he know about us, mage?” Neigen scoffed, walking towards Jeofrn, who was still standing in his place.

“Not much. He knows I am part of a small resistance movement that hopes not to destroy the kingdoms but unite them.”

Neigen walked past Jeofrn and went to Mal’s side of the table, curious about the frown upon his face and his silence for the past few minutes. The old man sat on the table itself, next to the Palerian mage’s seat, looking at him quietly without saying a word.

“And what do you think of all this, Mal?” he asked.

Mal paused for a second, as if Neigen’s question interrupted something going on in his head, before raising his head to face him.

“I think Jeofrn is right. Caligon is no threat to the council or the plan. If anything, he is helping us, and he has no idea what we are about to do.”

“Very well, then. I suggest we put this matter to a vote,” Jeofrn said, taking his seat again and pointing to Neigen to take his before he could say another word. The old man looked long and deep at the Thumerian mage, before bowing, a grin on his face, and making his way to his seat.

Chapter 5

“I don’t like this, Jeofrn,” Mal said, as he watched a portal take the last council member out of the desolate field they were in before vanishing. Daylight was starting to make its way into the skies above, but the air reeked of magic, and it seemed like the sun would take its time rising after such an eventful night.

“What exactly don’t you like, Mal?” Jeofrn asked, sighing. He took a few steps backward to the entrance of the cabin, looking for something. He then let loose another sigh, but this one was of relief as he found two empty barrels in a corner, covered in hay and dead leaves.

He took one, tossed it to his friend, and turned it on its face.

“All of it. Especially, Caligon’s involvement in all this,” Mal murmured, frantically taking the barrel from his friend and sitting down next to him.

“You didn’t actually think I trusted Caligon, did you, Mal? How stupid do you think I am?” Jeofrn smiled as he rested his back on the cabin walls, stretching his leg up ahead and looking at the sky, which looked like it was still trying to convince the sun to relieve the moon.

For a split second, before his erratic friend could answer, Jeofrn closed his eyes. He could feel a breeze on his face that he hadn’t felt for a long time. Everything was quiet, and those few minutes between night and day had always been special for him. He felt at peace, now more than ever.

Yet, a part of him knew that this was probably one of the last times he would experience such a majestic moment. A voice inside his head told him the worst is yet to come, and those next few months would bring him no joy or comfort.

“What do you mean?” Mal turned to him, ending Jeofrn’s moment of peace.

“I mean, I know exactly what kind of person Caligon is,” Jeofrn said, opening his eyes and sitting up, as if that part of a second’s respite pumped new life into him. “The man hunts humans for fun. How in the name of the spirits do you think I would trust him?”

“Then why does it feel like he is a part of the Madregals? You say he’s known about us for years! How is that supposed to be reassuring?” Mal burst out of his seat, his nerves finally getting the best of him.

“Calm down, my friend. He knows there is a group of people, with representatives of all four kingdoms, that don’t like the way things are,” Jeofrn said, standing up to stand next to his friend. “He doesn’t even know you are with me on this.”

“He doesn’t? Why didn’t you tell him?” Mal said, calming down and taking a deep breath. That sentence made him feel relaxed for a moment. 

“I told him there are no other mages with the Madregals. I didn’t even tell him there was a council. He just knows we’re a group of people who want to change this realm for the best.” Jeofrn laughed, patting his friend on the back.

“That’s reassuring,” Mal murmured, looking down and straying off as he often did.

“There is another reason I never mentioned you to him, Mal,” Jeofrn said, taking his seat back on the barrel and resting his back against the wall.

Mal felt that temporary moment of peace he had vanish. His heart started racing again, and he felt his mouth dry and his skin itch as he turned to face Jeofrn’s serious look.

“You are going to be the one who steals the unborn baby.”

Mal’s eyes bulged in horrified surprise, his breath running short and fingers trembling. He didn’t say anything for a long while.

“Why me? We never said anything about that, Jeofrn,” he asked in a quavering voice, gazing across the field as if surrendered to his fate.

“For a variety of reasons, old friend. The most important of which is that I will be too drained from warding the royal palace.”

“Why?”

“You know why. Princess Auralia can read minds, and if I don’t put a spell on the palace to block her from reading both of our thoughts, she will find out,” Jeofrn murmured, some fear finding its way to his tone. “That alone will take all my strength. You know how powerful she is. I can only imagine how powerful her and Prince Jumen’s offspring will be,” he added, straying off to the future and trying to picture what it had in store for them.

“I forgot about that. Yes, you do that,” Mal said, slouching to his barrel to take a seat. “What other reasons?”

“I think Caligon will be keeping a close eye on me the day the princess gives birth. I’m not sure why, but I think he doesn’t trust me either and I feel like he’s got something planned. I just don’t know what it is,” Jeofrn said, biting his lips in frustration.

“Do you think we will die after this?” Mal said, looking ahead as the sun finally started climbing its way out of the horizon.

“Probably,” Jeofrn said, smiling and turning to face his friend. “But we have lived for many years, my friend. How much do we have left anyway? I’d like to go knowing that I have left the world a better place.”

“Me too.”

They sat there, motionless and silent, after Mal’s statement. The sun slowly kept rising higher in the sky, shining its light on the two mages who felt like they might not see many of those tranquil sunrises after this day.

* * *

Jumen and Caligon circled one another like predators, each in an attack stance and waiting for the other to make a move. They were both standing bare-chested, holding nothing but a long blade.

It was Jumen who made the first move, swinging his blade high over his head, nearly landing it on Caligon’s head. The latter managed to jump to his right, successfully evading the killer blow.

Caligon then tried to take advantage of his momentum and swung his sword for his brother’s ribs, but Jumen rolled on the ground quickly over the blade before bursting up on his feet and turning to face his brother.

“Not bad, young brother.”

“I’d like to see you try that one, old man,” Jumen scoffed.

It was Caligon who charged this time, blade in his right hand and attacking Jumen. The latter was in a defensive stance, ready to ward off his brother’s attack, but he was caught by surprise as his brother tricked him and moved the sword to his left hand with a precise throw behind his back, leaving Jumen to block the air.

Jumen lost his balance as he put his weight on the block, and Caligon didn’t waste the opportunity; he shoved his brother, hitting his blade with one swift blow of his, yanking it out of his hands and into a nearby wall. The loud thud echoed in the wide training chambers, resonating for a few seconds.

Caligon stood above his brother, laying on the ground, a smirk on his face, and his blade tip pointed at his brother.

“Yield.”

Jumen did not respond.

“You’re thinking about using magic, aren’t you, brother?” Caligon scoffed, unfazed, and not flinching. He then drove the blade closer to his brother’s neck, touching it.

“I yield.” Jumen smiled.

Caligon stood there for a moment, blade still in his hand and at his brother’s throat. His eyes were still, expressionless, and the veins through his neck were bursting with blood as if he were fighting something, an urge. 

“Get up, little brother. And remember who taught you everything you know about wielding a sword,” Caligon said, sheathing his sword and extending his hand to Jumen, who took it and got up.

The two went to some nearby chairs, Caligon snapping his fingers for the servants to come. They ran to where the two princes were seated, coming from the corners of the room, offering them water and towels.

Caligon ordered them to leave with another gesture from his hands.

“When is your wife going to give birth?” he asked, drying his face and body with the towel.

“It is a matter of weeks, the midwives and physicians tell me,” Jumen said, gulping a large glass of water down before pointing to a servant to refill it.

“I suppose congratulations are in order.” Caligon smirked. “Have you thought about what I told you before?”

“What’s that?”

“Thumeria and Paleria becoming one kingdom?” Caligon said, gulping his own glass of water and grinning at his brother.

Jumen’s hands tensed and his eyebrows were in knots, eyes glancing at the servants and reprimanding his brother at the same time.

“Oh, don’t worry about those, brother. They are mindless beasts who probably don’t understand anything we’re saying.” Caligon laughed, as he threw the wet, sweat-imbued towel on the servant’s face while he was refilling Jumen’s glass.

“Leave us,” Jumen hissed.

The servants fled the room, and Jumen burst out of his chair in anger, back turned to his brother and fuming.

“What were you thinking, Caligon? You can’t let anyone hear you say those things! Nobody has ever spoken of a unified kingdom and this might be construed as treason!” he growled.

“Relax, young brother. As I said, they are mutes who are good for nothing but pouring water and cleaning after us.” Caligon laughed, still seated and enjoying his water. “So, have you thought about what I said?”

“There’s nothing to think about, Caligon,” Jumen said, grinding his teeth as he made his way back to the chair. “Thumeria and Paleria will never be one kingdom. Father wouldn’t allow it, and neither would King Morack.”

“Have you thought of what becomes of your beloved princess’s home when Morack dies? Do you really think Maloria will rule? She is too kind and simple-hearted, might as well be a servant,” Caligon said, a fiery gaze from Jumen meeting him. 

“Drop it Caligon,” Jumen said.

“You know I am right. Kanen will probably have her killed and take the throne for himself.” Caligon shrugged.

“Stop this madness! Never before has a royal killed another! And Kanen is without magic! He can never rule!” Jumen said in a shrill voice, swiping the empty glass of water off the table, sending it smashing across a wall.

“There is a first time for everything, brother,” Caligon said, crossing his legs and smiling. “And you’ve only emphasized my point. Kanen can’t rule, and neither can Maloria,” he added.

“She can, and she will. This is my wife’s sister that you are talking about, Caligon. I’d be careful how you describe her,” Jumen said in a dry tone, fists clenching.

“Calm down, brother. I am only looking out for you. I want you to think about what I said, because much depends on it,” Caligon said, getting up and moving towards his brother. “Thumeria and Paleria have been at peace for centuries. Do you really want anything to disrupt that?”

“But King Morack might still give birth to…” 

Jumen was interrupted by his brother. “He won’t. Trust me on this. The man is sterile, and he cannot produce another male heir.”

“But Maloria would make a great queen,” Jumen murmured, head down.

“She might. But that is not the question here, brother. The question is whether Kanen and the nobles will let a woman sit on the throne of Paleria, and I think you know the answer to that,” Caligon said, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulders. “Just think about what I said. You are the heir to the throne. It is up to you to keep the peace and ensure that Thumeria lives on after you,” Caligon said. “Dwell on that, brother,” he added, getting up and making his way towards the door.

* * *

Princess Auralia slowly made her way to her room’s balcony, her back aching and legs swollen. She felt like she could smell the cow dung coming in from the city, miles away, and hear the wind howling like it was drumbeats. 

Her stomach was considerably bigger now that the baby was soon due, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

She felt nauseated, yet she wasn’t sure if that was because of the changes going through her body or because she was worried. She knew having this child was a good thing, but she wasn’t sure what it would mean for her home.  

Her thoughts raced, heart pumped and her hands were even sweatier than usual. She felt like she was about to throw up.

Auralia closed her eyes for a moment, her face squinching and her entire body tensing. After a full minute, she opened them, panting and leaning in on the white marble fence overlooking Thumeria.

She soon heard gentle knocks on her door, too faint to hear for someone standing in the giant porch.

“Come in, Mal,” she said, still panting and in pain.

“My Princess. You asked for me?” Mal said, opening the door and making his way onto the porch.

“I did.”

“Princes Auralia, you should not be doing such mental effort while pregnant. It is dangerous for both you and the baby,” the mage added, helping her get to her bed.

“I know. But I’m worried and I need your counsel, Mal.”

“How may I be of service?”

“You have been around since the day I was born, and you’ve known me all my life. I need you to be honest with me.”

“As always, Princess.”

“Did you mean what you said about my son being as powerful as he is?”

“I did.”

“Wouldn’t that make him a target? I fear my father would feel threatened by my boy,” she said, voice quivering and a tear forcing its way out of her eye ducts.

“I cannot tell you what the future bears, my Princess. But I do know your son will be powerful,” Mal added. “Powerful enough to rule over this entire continent if he pleases.”

“What do you mean by that?” Auralia hissed, leaning on her right hand to get up.

“I meant nothing, Princess. I’m just saying he will have not only the power to rule Krasoria but also the will,” Mal said, trying his best to maintain his composure and stay seated, but his fidgeting legs betrayed him, going up and down like a bouncing ball.

“You know neither King Leorin nor my father would settle for that,” she said, trying to make sense of what he said, too distracted to notice the squirming mage.

“Not even my husband would settle for this!”

“You are right, Princess. I dare not suggest this. I was just saying that your son will have the power to do as he pleases,” Mal said, regaining his composure and getting up to stand next to Auralia. “He will be a beautiful boy, and his magical powers would make him a great king one day,” he murmured.

“Of Thumeria,” Auralia added after a long pause, but it wasn’t a question. She murmured those words while trying to grasp that her home country would be without a king once her father dies. “Do you think my father would settle for my boy being king over Paleria after he’s gone?”

“I think the problem would be convincing your husband of that, my Princess,” Mal murmured slowly, carefully weighing every word.

“Leave my husband to me. Do you think King Morack would approve?”

“I see no reason why this would be needed. The king might yet bear a boy and …” Mal was interrupted before he could finish his sentence.

“Enough with the mind games mage. I know my father can bear no children anymore. You forget the powers I have been blessed with,” Auralia scolded, with a fiery gaze that scared the mage.

“If you know that, Princess, then you already know he would not allow for a child that is not his to rule over Paleria.”

“But I’m his daughter! He would be the boy’s grandfather!” a defeated Auralia interjected, unable to believe her own words, knowing the odds of that happening.

“Yes, but he would still not be his son, but rather the offspring of his mortal enemy’s son,” Mal said, trying to calm her down.

“King Leorin and my father were never enemies…”

“They were never really friends, either, my Princess.”

“I don’t know what I am supposed to do, Mal. I don’t want my boy to be the source of further conflict between the two kingdoms, yet I fear for my country,” Auralia said, sitting down on the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“Let’s not worry about that now, Princess. Let’s focus on delivering a healthy boy first,” the mage said, smiling and patting her on the back.

If Auralia had looked up, she would’ve known that even Mal didn’t trust in those reassuring words, for his frown and straying eyes betrayed him, showing that the mage was, in fact, concerned.

Chapter 6

“I don’t understand why we have to go all the way to Paleria,” Caligon murmured, looking at his royal outfit in the mirror. He wore a dark blue cape over a black tunic, complemented by the black half-boots he was wearing over a pair of pants that shared the same color as his cape.

“Because your brother’s wife is about to give birth, boy, and she should do it in her home. It is customary for royal families to attend childbirth, and that includes you,” King Leorin grunted, smacking the oldest of his children on the back of his head.

“But why does it have to be on a horse? Why can’t we teleport there!” Caligon said, feeling the back of his head with his hands. He hated going to Paleria on official convoys. Unless it was for the hunt, he disliked being in their rival kingdom.

He even hated it more that he had to go because his brother’s wife, the most beautiful woman in Paleria, was about to give birth.

“This is an official ceremony. We can’t just teleport there, and we’re not going alone. I told you this is an official convoy and we go bearing gifts, and no portal could hold such a convoy,” his father said, patience running out as he exchanged a meaningful look with Queen Roania.

“Then why isn’t Jumen here? How come he got to travel with Jeofrn? It’s a five-day ride…” He was interrupted by a howl from his father.

“Silence! Your brother has to be next to his wife! You are not a child Caligon! What is the matter with you?” King Leorin hissed, slamming his fist on the large wooden table in front of him, smashing it in half. “Enough with the questions, boy. We leave within the hour.” He stormed out of the room.

“You know your father’s temper. Why get on his nerves?” the queen said, approaching her son.

“I just wish he could stop calling me boy or child. I am in my forties and he still mocks me!” Caligon said, sitting down on his parents’ bed and straying off.

“I know. But you will always be our child, Caligon. Even if you are eighty,” she said, sitting down on the bed next to her son, putting her arms around him.

Queen Roania was the only one that could calm Caligon down. He got his father’s temperament problems, but talking to her always soothed him. He even loved her, despite often having mixed feelings about his father and younger brother.

“I need you to control your feelings, Caligon. In some years, your brother will be king. And you have to keep your emotions in check if you are to advise him.”

“Advise?” Caligon said in a hoarse voice, slithering out of his mother’s arms. He slowly got up. “Yes, I will try to advise my brother,” he murmured, making his way towards the door.

“Caligon, I know how you feel about this, but have faith in the spirits. It is their will that he with magic rules. It is for the greater good of our kingdom and this world, believe in that.”

“I know mother,” he said, back still turned to her and hands on the knob. “And if my brother ever becomes king, I am sure he will make a fine one.”

“What do you mean, if? Your brother is King Leorin’s heir,” Roania slowly said, getting up herself.

“Who knows, Queen Roania? Maybe the great King Leorin will outlive his heir,” Caligon said. His mother could’ve sworn that her son had a smile on his face. His tone didn’t reveal it, but a mother’s instincts are never to be taken lightly.

After uttering those words, he calmly opened the door, got out, and closed it behind him without making a sound.

* * *

Mal took a deep breath, letting in all the clean air into his lungs and closed his eyes for a moment. He stood in the garden of the Palerian royal palace, leaning on the fence and enjoying the view. The city felt so quiet from afar, as if everyone was waiting for the new royal heir to be born. He knew that was not true. The people couldn’t care less.

Just another royal heir in the long line of princes… By the spirits, I hope that is not true, for all our sakes.

The sun was starting its long descent in the east, making way for the moon to shine its light over the bustling city. The mage couldn’t hear anything from where he stood, but he thought that the city would be brimming with life now, contrary to what it looked like from his stand. After all, it was dinner time, and the people had to go through the daily struggle of putting food on the table.

Mal stood there, hands on the marble fence and enjoying the view as the sun soon vanished and the moon shone bright in the sky. He wished that time would stop there, amid the quiet. There was no pressure on him for a moment, and he felt free.

“What are you thinking about, old friend?” Jeofrn’s voice took him out of his trance. He turned to find the mage walking into the garden, head as bald as ever and eyes darker than the night sky.

“Enjoying the view. What are you doing here, Jeofrn?” Mal said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Coming in to check on you.”

“Shouldn’t you be advising your prince somewhere?”

“Oh, he’s gone to be by his wife’s side. Spirits know, she needs it. How is she, by the way?” Jeofrn asked, leaning in on the fence as his friend did moments ago.

“She is doing well. The doctors say she will give birth at any moment now,” Mal said, joining his friend and admiring the view. They stood there next to each other for a moment, not saying anything, both gazing into the horizon up ahead.

“When are you going to put a spell on the palace?” Mal broke the silence.

“I don’t know. I think when she goes into labor. You know how powerful she is, and I don’t want to alert her that something is wrong,” Jeofrn murmured.

“When she goes into labor, she will be in too much pain, and her mind will be clouded. That is our window… I hope,” he added, feigning a smile as he turned his head to face the Palerian mage.

“Yes, we can only hope now. Do you need my help with the spell? I know it will take every bit of your strength,” Mal said, concern making its way to his face.

“No. You have to stay by her side, or else she might get suspicious that the court mage isn’t there,” Jeofrn grunted.

“It is customary for the mage to bless a royal child when they are born, and you are going to do the same,” he added, standing upright and turning to face the palace.

“Very well. I will do that. Good luck,” Mal murmured. He’d actually hoped that Jeofrn would ask him to join him so he could escape the childbirth. A part of him hated looking Princess Auralia in the eyes, blessing her child before he stole him.

He felt guilt already creeping in on his heart, and it pained him to imagine the mother’s loss of her firstborn, her child.

“It’s the only way, my friend,” Jeofrn said, still looking up ahead. Mal was still leaning on the fence and looking unto the city, and he didn’t turn either.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his trembling voice betraying him.

“I know how you feel about doing what we are about to do, but there is no other way.”

“The child must be separated from his parents. It will pain them both for years, but one day, when he comes back to unite the kingdoms, they will understand,” Jeofrn added, his voice growing louder and his eyes widening. “They will see that their son was meant to rule both kingdoms and lead the people to better lives. They will know he wasn’t just destined to be another failed king who dwells in the royal palace until his dying moments.” 

“Will they?” Mal murmured in bitterness.

“Their son is the chosen one. The key to freeing us all from this vicious cycle the spirits put us in,” Jeofrn added, hands reaching out to Mal and forcing him to turn to face his gaze. “Put your feelings aside, my friend. What we are about to do has to be done, for the greater good,” he said, both hands on Mal’s shoulders and looking him right in the eyes.

“I understand. When will the Thumerian convoy be here?” Mal asked, creeping out of Jeofrn’s hold and looking at the city once again.

“Soon. Elena tells me they are less than a day’s ride away.”

“Elena?”

“She is one of my apprentices. Have you never met her?”

“Why would a Palerian head mage care about a Thumerian apprentice? What can she do so far? I’m guessing she can light candles,” Mal sniggered.

“Oh, trust me, old friend, she can do a lot more. She’s only thirty, but she shows great promise. She might even make head mage, one day,” Jeofrn smiled.

“Have only heard about two women making it as head mages in the history of the kingdoms. Good luck with that,” Mal scoffed.

“She still has much ahead of her. Trust me, old friend, the world is changing. There’s no telling what tomorrow might bring,” Jeofrn added, joining his friend in a long silence as they both looked at one of the kingdoms that they were trying to save.

* * *

“Welcome to the Kingdom of Paleria, King Leorin,” King Morack said, greeting his friend with a smile and open arms.

The Thumerian convoy was of over three hundred persons, mostly Bellatarian warriors. The long line of horses and carriages was led by King Leorin himself and his wife, Queen Roania, followed closely by their firstborn.

The king was dressed in golden armor that shone brightly that morning, reflecting the sun’s rays over the palace walls. Yet, it was his gold crown that stood out, gilded with small jewels, except for a large one that stood in its center, shaped like a burning sun and of orange color, striking a breathtaking contrast with his dark red cape.

King Leorin was fond of his black cape as a child, but as he became king, he found that dark red suited him much better.

The queen rode next to him atop a white horse dressed in fine leather, wearing her own crown that had a similar jewel like King Leorin’s, only smaller. She didn’t have a sword dangling from her side like her husband, but her white cape flew high with the wind at the palace entrance.

Although he didn’t need to greet them in full armor, King Morack was as impeccably dressed as his guests. His armor was silver and his sword golden, and a black cape followed him down the stairs. He also wore his crown, but this one wasn’t as adorned as the Thumerian. It only had one jewel at its center—a serpent.

“Thank you, King Morack. I look forward to our time together and to celebrating the first heir between our two families,” Leorin said, smiling and bowing in courtesy. He then snapped his fingers, and two large warriors came running from the heart of the convoy.

They presented the Palerian King with a large chest, which they opened at the behest of King Leorin after another gesture from his hands. It contained all manner of jewels and gold trinkets, shining as brightly as the morning sun.

“Thank you for your gift, King Leorin. I am sure my daughter will be pleased with such a generous offering,” Morack said, gesturing to his own warriors to take the box away.

“How was your journey to our lands?” he asked.

“Exhausting,” Caligon murmured, much to his father’s dismay, whose gaze was fixed on the young prince for a few moments before turning to face the Palerian King.

“It was pleasant, my friend. But we could definitely wash up and use some rest.” He smiled.

“Of course! Follow me. I will lead you to your chambers myself, and our servants can take care of the luggage,” King Morack said, turning to lead the way into the palace.

The Thumerian King and Queen got off their horses, which were then led by the bridle by two servants. Caligon followed closely.

* * *

Caligon roamed the halls after they were all shown to their quarters. The day was still young, and he wandered off, but he wasn’t walking around aimlessly. He tried remembering the palace map as he walked down the long corridors until he finally reached a large room guarded by two warriors.

The Thumerian Prince was about to enter the room, but two large spears got in his way, the warriors each looking ahead as their spears crossed, blocking entrance to the room.

“Are you mad? Do you know who I am?” he hissed in anger.

“Our orders are not to disturb the princess and her husband,” a thick, hoarse voice came out of the large iron helmet, without even looking at Caligon.

“I am her husband’s brother, you fool! I am the Prince of Thumeria, and I wish to see my brother now,” Caligon growled, blinded by anger that two soldiers would defy him.

They didn’t move a muscle; spears crossed and faces still looking ahead. Caligon stood there for a moment, fists clenching and face turning red. His hands then slowly started reaching for his sword, but he was interrupted by the door opening gently. As soon as the door handle was touched, the guards pulled back their spears, standing at attention as Jumen walked out of the room.

His gaze was furious, and his eyebrows were in a knot as he looked to his brother, who still had his hands on the sword. Jumen didn’t say a word, but instead walked right past his brother, who then followed.

They both walked for a few minutes, neither saying a word until Jumen pulled Caligon’s arms and dragged him into a room without the latter having time to react.

“Are you out of your mind?” Jumen hissed, as he slammed the door. The room was a study filled with books and manuscripts lying all around, the smell of decaying wood in the air with a faint scent of bergamot. 

“What?!” Caligon grunted.

“What? You were going to draw your sword on my wife’s guards and force your way into our chambers? Do you want to start a war, Caligon?” Jumen howled, banging his hands on a nearby table.

“Those fools denied me access! I am the Prince of Thumeria and I should be treated with more…” he didn’t get to finish his sentence as his brother leaped forward to stand an inch apart.

“And I am the future King of Thumeria, fool,” Jumen said, standing so close to Caligon that the latter could know what he had for lunch. Their eyes met in defiance, each quiet for a moment, motionless.

“Those guards were acting on my orders. My pregnant wife needs some rest, if that is not too much to ask,” Jumen said, a cold stare in his eyes to match his tone.

“You may be the future king, Jumen, but I am your older brother, and Leorin’s firstborn. You would do well to show me some respect,” Caligon snarled, unfazed. “I didn’t know your wife was resting. It is almost afternoon, and I thought she would be up by now,” he added.

Jumen didn’t say anything for a moment, still standing in close proximity to his brother.

“You are right, but she is sick,” Jumen said, backing down and sinking into a leather chair that laid before the wooden desk he slammed moments ago.

“Why? What happened?” Caligon asked, genuine concern in his voice.

“The closer we are to the birth, the sicker she gets. The boy is due in a few days,” Jumen said, voice shaking and straying off so his brother wouldn’t see his watery eyes.

Caligon dragged a nearby chair, sitting in front of his brother.

“I am sorry to hear that. She will be fine, Jumen,” he said in a firm voice, putting a hand on his brother’s knees. “She has the best doctors and mages in the whole of Paleria by her side, not to mention a powerful and strong husband. She will make it out of this, and you will have a beautiful boy, trust me,” Caligon added, smiling and patting his brother.

“I hope so. I am sorry I snapped at you, Caligon. It’s just that this whole business is upsetting me a great deal. I don’t know what I would do without Auralia,” Jumen said, turning to his brother, gratitude in his eyes.

“I understand. I was out of line. Now, I have a more important question to ask you right now,” Caligon said, leaning back in his chair and looking for a moment into Jumen’s inquisitive eyes before he asked.

“What do you plan on doing with Paleria?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, brother! We’ve talked about this before!”

“Now is not the…”

Caligon interrupted Jumen, bursting out of his chair. “Listen to me! King Morack will do anything to keep his line ruling over Paleria, and we both know that does not include Maloria,” he hissed.

“What do you mean, do anything?” Jumen asked, slowly getting up, a deep frown on his face.

“I don’t know what he would do. What I do know is that a desperate man can do anything!” Caligon shrugged, looking straight into his brother’s eyes.

“There is nothing that he can do! His line ends with Maloria! Either he makes her queen or makes Kanen king; I do not care!” Jumen hissed, trying to keep his trembling voice down as much as possible. “I married his daughter, and he approved our marriage. When I become king one day, my son will be the heir to the throne of Thumeria. We have no business in what happens in Paleria!”

“And does your wife feel the same about her home?”

Jumen’s eyes bulged at the question, a vein popping in his head and his teeth grinding. “My wife will do as I tell her, because she too agreed to the marriage and she knows what will become of our son… and her home,” he said, biting his lips. “The important thing is my son comes to this world in good health, so we can take him home and raise him to rule one day,” Jumen said, as he made his way towards the door. “Now, I will go back to my pregnant wife to be by her side in this difficult time,” he added.

“You are right, brother. Bringing your boy into this world is the most important thing now,” Caligon said to his brother’s back. Jumen paused for a second with his hands on the doorknob. Something in his brother’s tone unnerved him, yet he didn’t say anything. He walked out the door after that long pause.

Caligon lingered in the room for a while, sitting in his chair for a few moments before bursting out of it. He grabbed the chair and threw it across the room, smashing the wooden chair into pieces, as he made his seat his brother’s leather one, sinking into it with a grin on his face.

You’ve killed a lot of men, Caligon, but this is different. You are talking about killing a child here, a baby. And not just any child, it’s your brother’s! What madness is this! You cannot do that!

Caligon drowned in his own thoughts, nails scratching into the leather chair without him even noticing. His legs were fidgeting, jumping up and down as if he had no control over them. Yet, he wasn’t also aware of that happening. It was like he was having an out-of-body experience, and he had no knowledge of what was happening with him. Caligon burst out of the leather chair this time and raced to the door, but he didn’t open it. He turned to face the leather chair for a moment, eyeing it slowly and standing there without doing anything. A hidden smile made its way to his face as he turned his back and opened the door, after minutes of staring into the chair.

Chapter 7

Mal sat in a dark, dusty room in a corner of the Palerian palace. There was no one else there, and if there were, they would have remained hidden, for there was no light in the room. The room didn’t even have windows.

It was riddled with dust and mite, the air thick and heavy and the floors creaking. Yet none of this seemed to bother the mage who was crouching against a wall, eyes closed as he rested his head and sank in deep thought, out of time and space.

He was there for hours, unmoving, so still a person would think he was dead.

It was later during that day when his eyes gaped in the dark room. He slowly got up to his feet, back rubbing against the dusty wall. Mal paused there for a moment, eyes wide open and looking at the door.

He took a deep breath, too deep for such a thick-aired room, and he then walked towards the door, dragging his feet.

The mage staggered through the palace, unaware of all else around him. He couldn’t hear the servants talking in the rooms he walked past, and the few minutes he walked felt like ages, unending and cumbersome.

He then reached a room he knew too well. Screams came from behind the closed door. He stood there for a second that felt like eternity, his heart racing, and his mind leaped from one unfinished thought to the other.

Mal opened the door to find Princess Auralia surrounded by midwives and doctors, Jumen standing in the far corner of the room with a look on his face the mage had not seen before.

“Mal! Tell me that my son is going to be fine!” the princess screamed, panting, and writhing in pain.

“I don’t know, Princess. We shall know soon enough,” the mage murmured, approaching the bed and feigning a smile to calm the princess.

Your boy will never be fine, Princess, even if he is healthy. And you will have me to blame, one day.

* * *

Jeofrn felt the world spinning around him, a crushing pain in his stomach, and a splitting headache ensnaring him a prisoner.

He had never used magic so powerful, but he never thought his body would take it this badly. It felt like someone was trying to rip his soul out of his body through his mouth, and he kept telling himself it was worth it. The palace was warded. His spell worked, and none were aware of their plan.

Loud knocks on his door felt like someone was smashing his head against a wall, but he mustered whatever strength he had left and got out of his bed and to the door.

“Jeofrn. I am going to King Morack’s chambers. We will wait together for the good news,” King Leorin said.

“What is the matter with you? I’ve never seen you like this. Have you fallen ill?” Leorin asked, a look of concern on his face as the mage opened the door. 

“I think I have eaten a rotten apple, that is all, My King,” Jeofrn murmured, the mention of food making him feel even more nauseated as he leaned on the door handle, clenching on to it to keep from falling.

“Why would you eat a rotten apple, you silly mage?” Leorin laughed, but Jeofrn’s bulging eyes made him realize that this was serious. “Very well. You rest. I will go to the insufferable fool on my own,” Leorin murmured, but a firm grip from the mage’s left hand stopped him.

“No, I will come with you, just give me a moment to relieve myself, My King,” Jeofrn said, struggling to keep his vomit down.

“Very well. I will wait here,” Leorin said, looking up and down at the mage, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with him.

Jeofrn knew that he had to be seen in public over the next few hours, and he had to look well. Suspicions would be high now, and accusations would fly. The last thing he needed was someone doubting him because he was resting in his room.

The mage went to a nearby bucket, looked at it, squinching in disgust as he got on his knees and held it for a moment. He then put two fingers in his own mouth, forcing himself to throw up in the bucket.

Better now than a few hours from now. You better keep it together, mage!

“I am feeling much better now. Let’s go, my King,” Jeofrn said, opening the door to find Leorin’s back. The latter turned to face the mage, resting his hands on his sword handle. The king looked at him for a moment before nodding his head and walking towards his destination. The mage thanked the spirits Leorin didn’t look at him anymore, because that piercing gaze made him feel nauseous again.

* * *

“Your move,” Morack said to Leorin. 

The Thumerian King stared at the board separating him and Morack, trying to come up with a strategy to defeat his opponent. 

“Come on now. This isn’t an actual battle plan,” Morack scoffed. 

“My dear, Morack. Haven’t you ever wondered why I always beat you? It’s because I take my time and plan my moves,” Leorin said, smiling as he moved a bronze soldier over the board and towards the Palerian King. 

“You don’t always beat me,” Morack grunted, looking at Leorin, fuming, without even checking to see his move. 

Before Morack could continue with his rant, he was interrupted by the room’s doors slamming and Jumen storming in with a big smile on his face. 

“The boy is fine! So is the princess!” The Thumerian Prince said, grinning and tears of joy streaming down his face. 

“He has our eyes, Father,” he added, his entire body shaking as he tried to control his emotions, but his watery eyes betrayed him, and his quavering voice showed just how emotional he was.

King Leorin didn’t say anything for a moment, sinking deep on his chair with a wide grin on his face, exchanging a meaningful look with his son, who soon excused himself to go be with his recovering wife.

“Congratulations, old friend. May the spirits bless him with long life and powerful magic so that he may rule in your son’s stead, years from now,” King Morack said, getting up and shaking the Thumerian King’s hand.

“Thank you, Morack. May the spirits bless him indeed,” Leorin said, smiling and warmly returning the handshake. “You know, the mages expect the boy to be very powerful,” the Thumerian King added, a wider grin on his face.

“What do you mean?” Morack asked.

“Your head mage predicts the boy will have unparalleled magical powers, my son tells me,” Leorin added.

“Why is that? What makes the boy that special?” Morack asked, a hint of jealousy in his tone.

“Perhaps my son and your daughter have that power in them? I don’t know. I hope the mage is right. Thumeria needs a powerful line of kings to prosper,” Leorin said, straying off.

“Yes. I am happy for you, Leorin,” Morack murmured, some bitterness seeping into his voice as he was reminded of his own plight. He too strayed off for a moment, trying to picture what would become of his kingdom once he was gone.

He knew his only boy was too weak and simple-minded, not to mention without magic. And Maloria was of a kind heart, something he never valued in a ruler.

“There is nothing wrong with a little kindness, old friend.” Morack turned to find Leorin smiling at him after saying those words.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of my head, Leorin?” Morack grunted, grinding his teeth, a frown on his face.

“I couldn’t help it, Morack. Your thoughts were too loud, and your disappointment was clouding the air.”

“Disappointment in whom?”

“You tell me.”

“I suppose it is in myself for not being able to produce a strong enough lineage to rule after I die,” Morack murmured, bitterness engulfing his voice as he got out of his chair and walked towards the window.

“Maloria would make for a great queen, my friend,” Leorin said, sinking into his chair and grabbing some grapes from a large bowl next to him.

“She is weak, Leorin.”

“You know, Morack, I’ve known you for a very long time, and you have always made the mistake of confusing kindness with weakness,” Leorin grunted, throwing a grape at the Palerian King’s back. “When will you ever learn they are not one and the same?”

“In her case, it will be. She would be the first woman to rule in Paleria or Thumeria if I remember my history lessons. Not only that, but she also doesn’t have a magical ability of any consequence!” Do you think our enemies would stand for a weakling to rule?” Morack hissed turning to face Leorin. “They would assassinate her! If her own brother doesn’t do it first!”

“You think Kanen is capable of doing something like that?” Leorin wondered, straying off to the possibilities that opened.

“I don’t know what to think… What I do know is Paleria has survived over the years by having powerful kings in place,” Morack said, walking back to his chair and sitting across from Leorin, a grieving look on his face. “The nobles would try to seize the opportunity and break the line of kings.  The servants or Bellatarians might see this as their chance for freedom!” Morack said, feeling a lump in his throat and his arms excessively sweating at just the thought of that happening.

“Whatever it is, we have time to figure it out. For now, let’s celebrate each of us becoming a grandfather,” Leorin smiled, throwing the Palerian King an apple.

* * *

Caligon dwelled in his quarters, sitting on the ground, resting against a wall. He’d closed the drapes, leaving only a faint candlelight struggling to shine any light across the room. He sat there for a few hours, motionless and quiet, until he heard it.

Bell chimes echoed all over the palace, indicating a new royal child had been born. The bells rang loud and hard, resonating in not just the palace, but also the city, to inform the commoners that the next heir in a long line of kings they’d never seen before had been born.

This was it. The time to execute his plan had come. After the bells had stopped, Caligon sprung to his feet. He stopped for a minute, still leaning against the wall, before walking towards a small package wrapped in a black cloth on his bed.

He dragged his feet to the bed, covering those few feet in minutes rather than seconds.

Caligon approached the package after finally reaching the bed. He grabbed it and then slowly began unwrapping it, revealing a small dagger. It wasn’t adorned by any jewels and didn’t have any special features about it, except for a worn-out handle.

It was a regular dagger; one you could get from any peasant in the city. It had to be.

I wish I had magical abilities right now. I could’ve evaporated the body, and no one would find it or the dagger.

Caligon stood there, the dagger in his open hand. He felt his heart racing and the dagger almost escaped his sweaty palms. This was different. It wasn’t like killing humans for sport. Yet, he kept telling himself that this was the only way.

The Thumerian Prince lost track of time and his surroundings, staring at the dagger, still standing over his bed. He then looked to the door and started moving, hiding the weapon in his pocket before mustering his strength to open the door with trembling hands.

* * *

Jumen stepped out of his wife’s room, carefully closing the door and trying not to make any noise.

“My wife is resting right now. She is not to be awakened under any circumstances. Is that clear?” he told the guards, each nodding in blind obedience as they looked straight ahead.

While the heir to the Thumerian throne was stepping into the hallway, he was met by his brother taking a walk.

“What are you doing this late at night?” Jumen asked.

“I figured you would let her rest tonight, so I came to check in on you and keep you company,” Caligon responded, smiling and accompanying his brother to a nearby room.

“Thank you, brother. I could use some company right now. It has been a stressful day for all of us.”

They went to a room not far from Auralia’s quarters, each sinking into a comfortable leather chair. They sat there, quiet, Jumen closing his eyes and trying to relax after he’d spent so much energy worrying for his wife and child’s wellbeing.

At that exact moment, Mal was standing in a dark, abandoned alley in Paleria. He had spent some time looking for a place that had no witnesses, because the mage couldn’t open a portal in the royal palace. It could’ve alerted everyone.

Mal knew the princess would be resting right now, and this was his window. He stood there in the alley, fidgeting and panting, despite not making any effort.

Your spell better work, Jeofrn. Else I’ll be crucified by dawn.

The mage stood upright, taking a deep breath, before waving his hands. A portal formed, and to Mal, it felt grimmer than ever. He felt like he was stepping into the abyss and wasn’t sure if there was a way back. 

He marched forward anyway.

The portal took him to Auralia’s balcony; she was too tired to sense the magic in the air or the howling winds around the void forming a few feet from where she slept. The mage stepped out of the portal, his heart pounding so hard, he feared it’d wake her up. He looked at the open window, cursing his knowledge of the princess’s routine—she always loved a nighttime breeze.

Mal carefully stepped into the room, holding his breath and taking each step as if it were his last. 

There she was, sleeping peacefully, covered in white sheets. Her son also lay asleep in an ivory crib next to her bed, still and quiet as his mother.

Mal paused for a moment, looking at her. His fists clenched, heart racing even faster. The mage’s eyes were turning red, veins popping all over his face, a feeling like he was about to implode from the pressure overwhelming him. 

“Forgive me, Princess,” he whispered inaudibly, carefully holding the slumbering child after putting him under a sleeping spell so he wouldn’t cry and wake Auralia.

Mal’s eyes widened in shock as he grabbed the boy. He felt a surge of magic in the child’s body that he had not experienced before. The mage fumbled his way back to the balcony, dazed by the abrupt power he had come into contact with.

He took one last look at the sleeping princess through the glass before waving his hand once again, holding the child in the other. A portal formed in the balcony, and the mage didn’t hesitate this time. He raced towards it as if he were afraid he’d change his mind.

As soon as the portal closed behind him, Auralia woke up, startled and screaming.

“My son!” Her scream echoed in the palace halls, waking Jumen from his short nap. He and Caligon sprinted to Auralia’s room, the former almost tripping on his own cape. Jumen burst into the room, a shiver racing down his spine and his blood running cold.

“What happened? Where is our boy?” Jumen grunted, trying to maintain his composure.

“He was taken! Where is my boy?!” Auralia yelled between her tears, frantically tearing the room apart looking for him after jumping out of her bed. 

Jumen paused for a moment, not joining his wife in the search, before hastily going to the balcony, standing where a portal stood a few minutes ago.

“Auralia!” he called out to his wife. “A portal was opened here. There is powerful magic in the air,” he murmured.

“Yes, I feel it, too! Who could’ve done this?! Why?” she cried out, her screams piercing the night.

“I don’t know. But few have the ability to open portals. We must wake our parents, now.”

* * *

“How could this happen under your roof, Morack?!” Leorin slammed his hands on the table, violently splitting it in two.

“What are you saying, Leorin? The same could have happened under yours!” Morack hissed, bursting out of his seat in anger.

“But it didn’t! It happened in Paleria, and my grandson has been stolen not two hours after his birth!” Leorin said, fuming.

“And how come you couldn’t find him already? Use your frail powers for once and scan for him in the palace! Read everybody’s mind!” Morack grunted, hands trembling in rage and face turning red.

“He can’t, Father. And neither can I. The royal palace is under a powerful spell. I can’t even focus enough to use my abilities,” Auralia said, her eyes swollen and red, face writhing with the sadness of a mother that has just lost her child.

“That is convenient!” Jumen interjected.

“What do you mean, boy?” Morack hissed.

“I mean that it is no coincidence that my son, the future heir of Thumeria, is stolen under our noses, and no one can tell me where he is.” The prince jumped out of his chair, kicking it back into a nearby wall.

“I’d very carefully select my next words…” Morack didn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I will do no such thing. I am saying that you stole him,” Jumen howled, his gaze blazing in anger.

“Are you out of your mind? How could you say that?” Auralia said in disbelief, looking at her husband in shock.

“Your father can bear no more children. It makes sense he’d want mine, powerful as he is, to rule over Paleria one day.”

King Morack didn’t say anything, but the veins in his head were bulging, and his hands were clenched to the table as if it were the only thing holding him from imploding.

“If that is what you think, I truly believe it is you who stole my son then,” Auralia said in a dry tone, slowly getting up to her feet. “I remember you talking to me about one kingdom, and of the possibility of Thumeria and Paleria coming together one day under the rule of one king. I see now this was your plan all along.”

At that point, King Morack grabbed the table, flipping it across the room. “One kingdom? You mean to rule over my lands, boy?” he said, clenching his jaws and reaching for his blade.

“Enough!” a sound resonated in all their heads.

“Stop this madness!” King Leorin hissed. “We are family. What you are doing could tear us apart!”

“It is madness, indeed, if I sit and listen to this any longer. You come to my kingdom and call me barren,” Morack said, grinding his teeth and walking towards Leorin. “You accuse me of stealing my own grandson so that he may rule over my kingdom, and then you threaten to annex it! I’d be a mad fool to take that and remain quiet. You have one day to return my grandson, or I will unleash the full power of Paleria upon you,” Morack threatened.

Jumen didn’t even look at him. His gaze was fixed on his wife, trying to read into her, but he couldn’t. “And you have one day to do the same,” Jumen said.

“Boy! Silence!” his father grunted.

“You can’t even control your own son. No wonder you make for such a weak king, Leorin,” Morack scoffed.

“I was silencing him so you could hear it from me, fool. One day, Morack. After that, it’s war,” Leorin slowly said.

Caligon was sitting on a chair far in the room, quiet and pensive, legs crossed and face leaning on his hands. He got up at his father’s behest, who stormed out of the room, closely followed by Jumen, who took a long—last—look at his wife before leaving.

Paleria 

Thumeria

Krasoria

 

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