The Alchemist: Dawn of Destiny

by L. A. Wasielewski

  “Keld! Embrace this change which is presented before you! Relish in the fact that you bear witness to the rebirth of the empire! Never again will I be compared to my father! Today we fulfill our collective destiny!”

  Lightning crackled from the swirling clouds above the square, thunder boomed seconds later. With the sun blotted out, an eerie twilight fell over the city. The wind shrieked as it tore banners from their poles high above. The ground trembled. People screamed and tried to run. The guards, unsure of whether to run themselves, or stay and do their sworn job, reluctantly tried to keep the panicky crowd in line.

  “My loyal subjects, do not be afraid!” Roann reassured his terrified citizens. His hair whipped around his face. “Dawn is upon us!”

  A guard, fiercely protective of his emperor, ran up the staircase to ensure the sovereign would remain unharmed by the whirling wind and erratic lightning. Halfway up the stairs, he was struck down by a swoop of Roann’s hand, electricity fanning out from his fingertips. The guard’s body, smoking and sizzling, his flesh charred beneath his armor, clattered down the staircase and came to a gruesome halt at the bottom. Horrified citizens backed away, unable to move more than a few feet in any direction. The remaining guards, suddenly fearful for their lives if they were to run, tried to calm the residents. A man vomited on the cobblestones.

  A spectral gale howled across the promenade, energy crackling through the air. A red-tinged aura lingered as the wind died down. The hairs on the necks of all in attendance stood on end. The air temperature soared to furnace-like heat before plummeting seconds later to near freezing. A crimson cloud flew above their heads, blowing their hair and hats alike. The square was bathed in a haunting red illumination, seemingly emanating from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. A giant fireball exploded beside the emperor, the young man never flinching. Left in its wake, a humanoid form appeared from within the smoke.

  The crowd’s collective heavy, panic-stricken breathing was music to Roann’s ears as Lyrax revealed himself. The euphoric energy was almost orgasmic. Waves of pleasure coursed through his veins and washed over his body. Relishing in the discomfort of his subjects, he couldn’t wait to see how they reacted next. He puffed his chest out with pride and moved to introduce his master to his people. Lyrax said nothing as he glided right past the young man without a second glance. Roann’s ecstasy was abruptly cut off as Lyrax ignored him. He scowled, his black eyes boring into the necromancer’s back as he approached the crowd.

  They cowered before him, too terrified to run, too terrified to stay. Frozen in place, they watched in horror as an unfamiliar man with the skin pallor of death and the aura of undeserving royalty stood at the crest of the staircase. Red mist swirled around him, licking his bald head and fluttering the royal robes of the late Emperor Artol resting on his shoulders. He smoothed them down when he came to a halt, a sickening smirk gracing his lips as he did so. Lyrax knew he had arrived.

  “People of Keld…my people! Mine is a name that you know, yet do not—sullied as those who hated me worked to expunge my memory from existence. My tale bastardized as history forgot me! Your reluctance to remember the misgivings of the past has resulted in my resurgence!” He walked from side to side, the royal vestments billowing around his thin body. He used his hands as he talked, gesturing wildly as he became more and more fervent. “The former king of Ashal refused to see the light, refused to accept his fate—and paid for it with his life. As did his people. If you value the hearts that beat in your chests, you will not be as foolish. I am here to rightfully reclaim what was taken from me centuries ago! My life—extinguished because of ignorance! Taken by magic users!”

  The crowd gasped at the utterance of the forbidden art.

  “Yes, magic! You are right to fear magic—just as you will fear me. And my young protégé as well.” He gestured to Roann, who found new pride within his former scorn. His disdain for Lyrax’ earlier disrespect disappeared. “You’ve spent your lives in fear of the unknown, fear of the magical monsters you were forced to believe in! Look upon me! Look upon Roann! See that which you feared, and realize you were correct! Your nightmares shall unfold before your very eyes!”

  Lyrax raised his hands high into the air, the blue robes of the Keld monarchy sliding down his emaciated limbs. He shot lightning into the sky. “You will bow to me—or face my wrath! No one will ever forget the name Lyrax again!”

  People, men and women alike, sobbed in the crowd. Children begged their parents to make the scary man go away. Realizing retrospectively that their fates were sealed the moment Roann took his father’s crown; some took matters into their own hands. A group of men, no more than ten-deep, had been huddling within the masses, plotting their act of heroism. With a hearty battle cry, they burst through the wall of people and raced up the stairs, daggers pulled and at the ready.

  Lyrax sighed in irritation and struck them down with a mere flick of his wrist. They fell in place, their bodies bursting into flames. Smoldering at the foot of the staircase, close to the deceased guard Roann had dispatched, they lay as a stark warning against revolution.

  “Death comes quickly to those who disobey. Glorious, dishonorable death.”

  With a silent nod to his young pawn, the necromancer commanded him to bring forth their next surprise. Roann concentrated his mental energy and, cocooned within twin wisps of smoke, summoned both his mother and Morigar from the dungeons. Chained and terrified, they appeared before the crowd, magically plucked from their prison cells and dragged through the chaos of the inner dimension.

  Eilith instantly collapsed as she materialized, Morigar rushing to her side despite shackled feet. He tried to wrap a comforting arm around her only to find himself being torn away by a strong-armed emperor. She screamed as her son forced his body between them, knocking her down in the process. Roann’s eyes flared, Morigar becoming lost in their ebony depths as he was flung aside. Landing awkwardly on his side, he was unable to move before his emperor was on him again, shoving him in front of Lyrax and commanding him to kneel. Morigar immediately pleaded with the crowd to pray for the lost soul of their once-beloved monarch.

  “Kneel! Beg the Goddess to help this misguided man! He is no longer our emperor!” The crowd did as Morigar had done and fell to their knees. Eilith pressed her hands together, shackle chains clanking, and immediately began to mutter her own pleas. She refused to look at her son. The cleric continued, “He has betrayed us all!” He stared up, past Lyrax, to the sky. “Oleana! Please show mercy upon Roann! Save his soul and restore order! Banish this devil,” he motioned with chained hands to Lyrax, “and allow us the peace you desire!”

  Lyrax laughed, a menacing smirk crossing his gray lips. “So, you want to pray? Wonderful! See what your prayers can do!” Lyrax telepathically sent Roann the command to change his shape. Sensing his master’s order, Roann obeyed in the most spectacular of fashions.

  Standing at the apex of the grand staircase, Roann began his transformation. Mist swirled around him and his human features disappeared. Growing another foot over his six-foot frame, his body changed from human to monster with smooth ease. As leathery wings erupted from his scaled back, a woman in the front of the crowd fainted, her husband barely catching her before her head hit the paving stones. An elderly man screamed ‘demon!’ as razor sharp fangs began to emerge from his beastly mouth. Women shrieked at the new appearance of their emperor, shielding their children’s eyes. When the transformation was complete, he stood proud, hot puffs of air shooting from his devilish nostrils. He tapped his toe talons on the marble staircase.

  Morigar looked on the man he had once known and loved like a son with betrayed eyes. He clasped his hands together in front of his body and rose, the monster towering over him. He craned his neck upwards in an attempt to make eye contact. “What have you become, my child? Why have you abandoned yourself? History surely would have remembered you for your purity and valor, and now all that will be writ—“

  Without a second thou
ght, Roann took Morigar’s head off with one swipe of a clawed hand. His body limp, it fell to the ground, blood spilling from his neck and pooling underneath his white robes. The head rolled down the staircase, coming to rest alongside the rest of the carnage.

  “Oswin!” Eilith screamed, the crowd following suit. Children cried out, burying their faces in the gowns of their mothers. Roann defiantly kicked the lifeless decapitated body of Father Morigar. Lyrax moved on the hysterical empress, grabbing her roughly by the arm and dragging her to her feet.

  “Which fate do you prefer? I am offering you your lives in exchange for your loyalty. The choice is this—“ He shook Eilith forcefully, eliciting a pained gasp from her trembling lips. “…or that.” He pointed to Morigar’s corpse. “You may view death as the easy way out. But I assure you it is not.”

  He released Eilith, and she crumpled to the ground, sobbing. Moving beside Morigar’s body, he closed his eyes and spread his hands wide. Mumbling an ancient incantation, Lyrax trembled as red tendrils of mist ebbed from his fingertips. Morigar’s fingers twitched as forbidden energy soaked into his pores. A moment later, his corpse rose from the ground and stood, headless and shaky. It took a few shuffling steps at Lyrax’ command. The citizens of Keld wailed at the sight.

  “Death is not eternal. Death is my ally. For those who seek it, shall have it granted to them—only to serve me for eternity. I have embraced death, surrounded myself in its bliss. You would be wise to do the same.” Flicking his wrist toward Morigar’s bastard zombie, the form crumpled to the ground and turned to dust. “That man was tainted. His service to his bitch goddess made him worthless to me. But do not fear—your pitiful beliefs in Oleana will not hinder your ability to be my underlings. For I know, deep down, you’re all sinners. And I like sinners…” Lyrax laughed maniacally.

  As the wind blew Morigar’s charred, ashy remains into the square, Lyrax once again stood at the center of the staircase. The same mist shot from his fingertips, and like a cascading chain, engulfed each guard he had struck down upon his arrival. The smoke even floated down to the soldier Roann had eliminated in a fiery display. In succession, as the spectral miasma penetrated their lifeless bodies, they rose. Their flesh was charred and peeling, their eyes haunting and black. They took in no breaths and experienced no heartbeats. Shuffling and swaying in their zombified stupor, they mindlessly picked up their fallen weapons and moved to surround the crowd.

  Roann stood behind Lyrax, his statuesque wings flapping languidly. The crowd was silent, their cries having long since been squelched. They no longer had anything to cry about. They understood that no amount of fighting could save them. Citizens looked on blankly, surrendering their will.

  “Now you choose, dear people of Keld! Obey me and live—or revolt and be doomed to walk the land as undead until I require your service.”

  The square was silent, no one daring to utter a sound. So, when Eilith’s voice cut through the oppressive quiet, the crowd was unwilling to gasp in shock, unknowing as to what might happen to her for her betrayal.

  “This is all my fault…”

  Lyrax’ head snapped in her direction, ready to strike her down for speaking out of turn. Roann slid away from him and moved to his mother’s side, still in his beastly form.

  “Go ahead, mother. Tell the people about…me.” Roann’s inhuman voice hummed in his chest. He grabbed her by the arm, his claw digging into her soft bicep. Blood trickled down and stained her dingy gown. “Let them know the truth.”

  Eilith shook her head with sadness. “This…monster you see before you today, this abomination—should have never seen his first birthday. After so much heartbreak. The loss of so many babies. Artol and I didn’t want to admit that our last chance at having a child—an heir—had been destroyed by…magic.”

  The crowd gasped, their first audible sound since Lyrax had reanimated the garrison of guards. Eilith continued, her voice quivering.

  “Yes—my son was born with magic. We tried everything possible to rid him of his evil. His destiny was cemented hours after his birth, when his bassinette caught fire, the surge coming from his tiny body. It devastated me, broke his father. We should have let him wither and die right then and there. But after all we had been through, losing our beautiful baby was not an option. We kept him hidden, assuring the citizens everything was fine—that we were protecting his immune system from the oncoming autumn. We tried everything to stifle and hide his curse: talismans, mantras, alchemy. But in the end, we were left with only one option.”

  She focused on Lyrax, eyes burning with disdain. “I know it was you who sent that witch doctor.” She spat the last two words, pure vitriol accompanying the title. “It was you who promised us a ‘cure’. It was you who took my son from me.”

  Lyrax smiled boastfully. “You flatter me.”

  Eilith licked her dry, chapped lips. Her makeup, dull and worn from days of imprisonment, ran in streaks down her face with her tears. “We were given false hope, a promise our darling son would no longer suffer the stigma of forbidden powers. A clean bill of health after only a days’ work seemed unbelievable, and yet—it happened. Placed back in my arms, I touched his tiny hand—and was greeted with only silken skin, not fiery flames. Artol and I were forever indebted to the person who saved him. I swear to you all, we never realized what we had done. I envy my husband now, not forced to witness the repercussions of the mistake we made.”

  She turned to Roann, swallowing hard. “My heart is broken, but it is the burden that I alone must carry. I was a coward and have now doomed my people to damnation.” She faced the crowd, her hands clasped in front of her body in a gesture of desperation. “He’s not the man you thought he was…the son that I thought I had raised. He is not your emperor—he is evil incarnate. I beg you to stand up and revolt against him! Stop him before it’s too late!”

  “Are you quite done, little woman?” Lyrax looked down on her with pity in his eyes.

  Eilith didn’t respond, and instead hung her head in shame, refusing to look at the people she had betrayed thirty-two years ago. She waited for the public execution she was certain was coming.

  “You’ve heard her admission of guilt! She chose a mother’s love over an empress’ duty.” Lyrax clicked his tongue in a scolding manner and shook his head. “This isn’t the type of leader you deserve. A cowardly woman with a dead husband, just as much a coward as she was! I will usher in a new destiny for this empire, one that my young protégé here dutifully readied for my arrival. All the prosperity and success he created—it was for me! I was exiled in my past life, forced to hide for my ‘crimes’. No more!”

  Lyrax stood silent for a long moment, watching the people cower at the base of the staircase, their expressions of terror mixed with acceptance. They knew there wasn’t a fight to be had.

  Now satisfied that Eilith realized the truth, he took a deep, satisfying breath through his nose before he commanded the attention of the people once more. “I said before that you all had a choice, dear people of Keld. But I lied…”

  Lyrax threw his arms wide and unleashed a massive bow of energy, blasting across the square with unimaginable force. The wave crackled, white-hot plasma surging forward. It sought victims, tendrils choosing terrified citizens as they tried desperately to run. Overtaking the people in the front half of the crowd almost instantly, it burned their bodies beyond recognition, their charred corpses falling into gruesome heaps.

  The middle of the group watched in dazed horror as the arc came for them, knocking them to their knees. Some prayed to Oleana instead of running, leaving their fates to the goddess. As the wave washed over them, the searing heat covered the crowd, leaving most with horrible burns. The lucky ones died instantly. The unfortunate languished for several minutes as their bodies smoldered.

  At the back, were the citizens knocked unconscious by the force of the blast, cascades of blood instantly pouring from their noses, mouths, and ears. In a matter of minutes, they would bleed to death.
The sickening stench of singed flesh lingered over the eerily silent promenade. Eilith screamed in horror, cursing her son’s name as he sent her back to her prison cell in a cloud of mist.

  ~~~

  When the call to the square had been made, Isum Dran joined the masses, keeping a position near the back of the crowd. He listened to Roann speak, heard his voice as he praised the people for their incredible work on the harvest. But he knew something was amiss. Perhaps it was the years he had trained the boy—then man. Call it a fighter’s intuition or a sixth sense, but Dran knew he needed to leave.

  He contemplated alerting the citizens, but he more than likely would have been accosted for speaking ill of the sovereign or interrupting an official function. Realizing if he wanted to escape with his life, he would ultimately need to sacrifice theirs. He didn’t know what sort of danger they faced, but he was worldly enough to know when his gut told him to go—he went.

  Isum slunk down an alley and headed toward the outskirts of town. He hadn’t made it more than one-hundred feet when clouds overtook the sun and the citizens began to scream.

  He didn’t look back.

  Taking quick steps, he darted behind buildings in order to avoid anyone’s eyes. He figured everyone had gone to the square like good citizens, but he needed to ensure he made it away from the fray safely all the same. Knowing he probably couldn’t get out the city gates, he got close enough anyway, just to make sure. And, like he thought, they were locked tight, chained to trap the unsuspecting residents of Keld.

  In their tomb.

  Making a beeline for the access tunnel he knew led out of the city, he pried open the loose grating and jumped inside, his senses immediately inundated with the stench of sewage. Walking the first dozen or so feet, the pipe ultimately dove underground to exit the city, and Isum found himself on his stomach, fighting to keep his chin and mouth out of the rancid liquids sloshing beneath him. As his shining ring became caked in muck, he was reminded of his duty—a duty bestowed upon him so long ago it was hard to fathom just how much time had actually passed. Isum shuddered at the thought that history appeared to be repeating itself.