by Shakyra Dunn
Dawn was teeming over the city, sunshine reflecting off glass windows. The buildings were far more extravagant and well-structured than in Kalonia, the thought of exploration weighing heavy in his mind, but the realization that the Order of Helix had followers here meant that walking around in the open was far from wise. He settled for tying his hair back with an elastic band that was lying on the ground to keep up a ruse before roaming freely.
Everywhere that he turned, figures in cloaks had their eyes trained on him. They were bound to suspect him as something more than the usual outsiders. He thought it best to ignore the incriminating gazes. Unconsciously, he was keeping his eyes peeled for Lunious; maybe it would help if Leilana at least had an idea on where the man could be. She’d strived so hard to fight, and now that she had gained the skills necessary to survive without depending on her magic, he hoped that she wouldn’t revert to a more dependent state and stick to being well-rounded.
A pair of hands snaked around his left arm, pulling him into an alley. Faster than he could process, the stench of rotten meat and scorched paper filled his nose, the new sensation nearly making his stomach lurch. He swallowed down every essence of remaining pride.
“I’m glad that I got to you before they did,” Amiria proclaimed, still holding on to his arm firmly. Her long hair was tied into a bun, held together with a black ribbon. Compared to the other members of the Order of Helix in town wearing uniform, she was dressed in a navy-blue blouse and a black skirt with knee-high stockings and a pair of flats. “They were staring at you.”
“Not surprising,” he mumbled, pulling the elastic band from his hair, ruffling the shaggy locks back into his preferred style with his hand. “I could pretend to be a different person all I want, they can probably pick up on my aura.”
Amiria dragged him behind one of the dumpster bins as a pair of the famed members strolled past the alleyway. Rem had to cover his nose to keep from gagging, the smell becoming too intense for his heightened senses. Amiria peered out, nodding to Rem when the coast was clear. Rem was quick to scramble away from the dumpster, taking in as many gulps of air as he could while holding his stomach with his left hand to rub the aching spots that threatened to send a present. It did nothing to eliminate the smell completely, but some fresh air outweighed none.
“I wanted to take you to a place where we could talk more privately,” Amiria began, grabbing both of his hands, intertwining her fingers with his. Rem was baffled by how cold that her hands felt. One good look at her face and he noticed sweat on her forehead. It was mid-autumn, and yet she was fluctuating between two different atmospheres. “I sensed your distress once you arrived. Your excess energy is overflowing, and if it persists, it will be harder for you to complete your mission.”
“Why are you helping me anyways?” Rem suddenly piped up. “You’re doing so much to push me forward, and it’s a little confusing to witness.”
“You carry a lot of burdens on your shoulders by supporting yourself and your friends. The four of you seemed close, and I’m not sure what has you down, but you tore yourself away from them. Being alone is stressful, and I imagine that it’s breaking you down inside. I want to alleviate your pain if only a little. I don’t need anything in return. You don’t have to talk to me about it, but I would like to take you someplace that can calm your mind.”
“And where’s that?”
“To the north, there is a spring called Anthea, where the Warlords of Old offered their blessing to the first lord of the land, Helesa. Helesa herself was the first Warlord descendant, a deemed heir to the throne of Adrylis. She died young and her ashes are spread across the spring grounds. It is rumored that those that come seeking prayer there will be cleansed of sin.”
Rem released her hands, sighing. “My existence is a sin. I’m nothing but a bloodthirsty killer. I couldn’t even protect, only hurt. I don’t deserve to have my mistakes washed away.”
Amiria cupped his face with her hands. “You won’t have to get rid of them completely, Prince Remiel. Scars help you grow and understand your wrongs. They’re meant to provide change and going to the spring could help you. Please, let me take you.”
He grinned. “All right, all right, since you’re going to be so persistent.”
The trek from Ocula to Anthea ran the two mages about an hour, and Rem didn’t expect to find the stone steps leading to the fabled spring crumbling away. At the top of the extended stairs was a crooked archway, the pull towards the barrier guarding the land growing ever powerful.
“They’re protecting this land,” he mumbled.
“We’re nearly there,” Amiria told him, her hands folded in front of her. “Now the trial and error will begin. You feel it, don’t you?” She laid a hand over her racing heart. “The essence of the Warlords of Old, shielding this land from malevolence. There is little that we can offer them in exchange for their fortification, their acceptance through lack of acknowledgment, and yet, they allowed us to trek this far.”
“Wonder why that is.”
“They accept you as a worthy soul to carry on their legacy. It is proof due to you being able to see their barrier and utilize them for yourself.”
The knowledge that the Warlords already knew of his existence was enough to guide his mind into solace. He was given specific powers despite the nature of his origins. He was a direct descendent of Helesa, an Arcana with an aura transcending time. The Orb of Concord was a gift for him to claim, a birthright. But the barrier wasn’t guarding it. Barriers conjured by those born of royal lineage were not meant to be observed, and to his knowledge, those that could view his powers firsthand were tied to direct descendants of the Warlords themselves. This was a trait that his mother passed down to him, one piece of knowledge that she could share.
“Tell me what I need to do.”
“Continue forward,” she began. “I can’t tell you how to enter the spring, but I’m certain that they will be able to tell you for themselves.”
Rem was up a few stairs when he didn’t hear her footsteps behind him and stopped when he noticed that she didn’t move from her spot. “Not going to make the climb with me?”
“I don’t have the Warlords’ blessing anymore,” she admitted. “My powers are dwindling. That’s what happens when you break a pact as selfishly as I did—they start stealing your life force, beginning with your magic.”
Rem shook his head, baffled by the sudden confession. That was why she looked ill—she was keeping her powers and life intact out of sheer will. “Why didn’t you say something? I would have never made you take this walk if I knew that you were suffering.”
Sensing his welling concerns, she only smiled. “Don’t worry, I feel fine. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll join you once you’ve had your talk with them.” He remained still, and she held up both hands, gesturing for him to keep walking. “Go on, shoo. Don’t let me hold you back.”
Rem wanted to retort, but the hint of a sugary expression slowly warped into one of anticipation mixed with impatience. Yeah, it was definitely time to get moving.
Rem started up the stone stairs while Amiria stayed behind at the bottom of the beaten path, listening to gravel rattling under his feet, his eyes fixated on the archway at the top. Every now and again, he would look down at Amiria. True to her words, she was watching him with a smile, waiting for him to achieve his goal. The gap between them seemed to widen every time that he decided to check on her, and her body grew smaller the higher that he climbed.
After a few minutes of paced walking, he ran smack-dab into the barrier at the foot of the archway, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a scoff. Talk about a warm welcome. He peered into the land beyond the barrier to get a glimpse of what lied ahead, but the fluctuation of the barrier proved that there was nothing worth seeing unless it could be dissipated. The scenery under the archway was nothing but blurred lines, even for him.
“All right, let’s see what we can do.”
He rubbed his palms together, laying them o
ver the barrier. His hands were boiling hot, the barrier working to repel every action taken towards it. Rem grit his teeth, pulling forth more energy to access his own barrier magic, as if battling the power of Warlords with the magic of a descendant.
Such a hasty action proved futile, however, for the rush of direct contact caused the stone stairs under his feet to crumble. He didn’t hear himself yell in surprise. His gears in his mind were turning a bit too slow for his liking, but his body reacted enough for him to grasp the edge of the stone platform with one hand. He couldn’t bear to look down after he heard no impact from the lost rubble, even after thirty seconds of silence—the drop was extensive.
“That was close,” he mumbled.
“Your Highness!” Amiria’s muffled yell reached him. “Are you all right!?”
“Yeah! Still alive down here, no worries!” Rem responded, reaching up his other hand to grab the ledge. He drew in a deep breath as he hoisted himself back to solid ground, dusting off his pants. He peered down into the gaping hole now that he was out of immediate danger, and all that emerged was darkness. There was no lower ground, much like he suspected. Any rubble that had fallen below was gone without a trace, which left him wondering if any other travelers that showed up in search of the spring ended up suffering the same fate he nearly did.
Rem cupped his chin with his right hand as he examined the barrier a second time. Jumping right in to dispel the blocked path by counteracting it with his own wasn’t a wise decision. There was bound to be another method. If he couldn’t be direct, maybe a calmer approach was necessary to open up to their senses. He planted himself in front of the archway, a few inches from the gaping hole behind him, crossing his legs. As frustrated as he was, he couldn’t allow it to show. The Warlords were still watching him—another simple mistake would mark the end of his days and put Adrylis through a pit of endless fire. He couldn’t afford a second chance at getting this right.
He slowly closed his eyes, laying his palms against the barrier again. There was no burning sensation coursing through his fingertips, and he couldn’t feel the ground shifting underneath him; that was already a good sign.
“I am Prince Remiel Ankove Vesarus of Linmus, fallen kingdom of Adrylis. I have come to Anthea to communicate with you. I am seeking no vengeance, only peace for my country. I ask of you, Helesa. Give me a sign that you’re listening.”
He remained in silence for a while yet, preserving his focus. His breaths were slowing, his mind clearing of negativity. Any lingering sentiment towards his allies, discontent towards his enemies, even the empathy he held towards his people, they all seemed so distant. Somehow, coming here was a breath of fresh air, acting as a sanctuary.
“Prince of Linmus…” Rem’s heart nearly stopped when a melodious feminine voice pierced his senses, but he didn’t allow his concentration to waver. His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to listen, his shoulders slumping. “You have grown well under the guidance of your ancestors. You maintain control over the world’s burdens, your conviction unwavering. Yet, in you, I sense that there is more to learn before you are ready to accept our gift.”
“I will be,” he stated. “I promise that I will be. I will do better.”
The ground under him was once again shifting, and his mind nearly went into a frenzy. Was responding the wrong gesture? Were they angry at him? The barrier concealing the spring suddenly shattered away, the sound reminiscent of glass to his ears. He lowered his hands to lay on his lap, glancing back to find that the steps that crumbled away reformed into their proper placement. Amiria was racing up the stairs to meet him, panting heavily by the time that she reached the top. She arched her back, resting a hand on her pounding heart, grinning at him.
“I-I’m sorry that it took me so long. I tried to get here as soon as I saw the ground fall apart, but I’m so relieved that you’re all right.” She extended her hand to him, pulling Rem to his feet. The two gazed into the open archway, the crisp, colorful autumn leaves from beyond the barrier breaking free from the mold under the guidance of the gentle wind.
“Looks like we’ve made it,” Rem stated. He reached out his hand, his fingers grazing against hers. “What do you say we find out if the legends are true?”
Amiria accepted his gesture, taking his hand into her own. She grinned up at him as he continued facing forward. “I’d like that.”
Running water filled Amiria’s ears, and after dashing ahead of Rem, her eyes lit up at the sight of a tombstone with a natural spring flowing from the base. She lowered herself to a sit before the grave, allowing her fingers to soak in the rather freezing water, shuddering at the contact before peering up at Rem, who couldn’t help watching her. It was hard to ignore being in the presence of someone as well-known as Helesa. The first Warlord’s descendant was concealed from the world and left to prosper in everlasting silence. She paused, her thoughts temporarily halting when a leaf descended from the trees, drifting into her view before landing on her lap.
“It really is autumn,” she stated, picking up the leaf, allowing it to fly away with the wind. “The leaves are turning colors, and it’s much colder now. It’s been seven moonless nights since I left the academy. So much has changed since those days.” She offered up a smile. “I was so naïve. I couldn’t begin to comprehend the life of a wandering Arcana, but now that I’ve experienced it, I want to spend the rest of my days exploring this lively world.”
Rem took a seat next, his hands firmly planted on his lap as he marveled at Helesa’s grave. “I think that times are different now. No one should be bound to one place to protect it. I think that after the war, everyone should come together to ensure that our land prospers the right way. My family was traditional about their methods, and my father rarely got to see the outside world away from Linmus. My mother spent so much time on her duties as Queen and an Arcana destined to assist others that she couldn’t see anything else. Not even me.” He crossed his legs, shifting his weight onto his hands when he leaned back to steal a glance at the afternoon sky.
“When I become King, I want to make sure that everyone has a chance. Everyone should be treated fairly, magic wielders or not, and they should be able to thrive in their land. So many people have been killed or exiled because of us, and it’s best to right the wrongs. There is so much good left in this world, and I want to shield it.”
Amiria giggled. “You sound noble when you speak of the future. It’s fascinating.”
“I don’t think that I am,” he replied. “Every time that I feel ready to make something more of myself, I end up doing something stupid that puts me two steps back.” He brought his knees up to his chin. “Hell, even now, Solus is angry because I couldn’t tell him how worried I was when he pushed himself too hard for my sake. Sien thinks that I’m trapped in the situation with you, and Leilana got hurt because I couldn’t handle my emotions spiraling out of control and took it out on her.” Amiria raised an eyebrow at the tears forming in his eyes. He started gripping his hair, curling himself into a hole. “I screwed up, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know where to turn anymore. I feel so alone.”
She stood up and wrapped her arms around him, allowing him to bury his head in her chest. She smiled, stroking his hair. “You will never be alone, Prince Remiel. Someone will always watch over you, even if they are not physically here to guide you. You won’t have to worry about facing your hurt alone.” He wiped his tears immediately after she released him. “I brought you here to offer your prayers. I figured that if anyone needed assistance from the Warlords, it would be you.”
“I don’t know anything about prayer,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I’d need to do.”
“Well, perhaps I should have said meditation.” She took both of his hands in her own and turned him around, his back facing Helesa’s tomb. She planted herself across from him, a few feet away. “When you meditate, you don’t need to do anything but open your mind to what revolves around you. It will give you the motivation to thi
nk about your next move.”
“Open my mind?” he repeated.
“Yes!” She cleared her throat. “Cleansing yourself of your thoughts will help you see everything clearer. It’s a technique that was taught to us by our teachers. We channel our magic in a way that won’t break our bodies to the core, and thus we must keep a clear mind in the face of danger. Maybe the reason that you keep losing control is because you weren’t trained on how to handle your emotions healthily. It’s easy to become lost but regaining yourself is possible.”
“How do I do it?”
“Close your eyes, relax your muscles.” Rem was surprised by her briefly controlling tone, but he closed his eyes after holding out his arms to shake away the jitters stirring in him. “Listen to the sound of my voice.” His eyebrows furrowed as he worked at concentrating on the words forming on her lips. “Pretend that nothing else is around you. Just listen to me.”
Her melodious voice shifted from speaking format into one of soft singing. He knew well of her connection to sound, and that singing was one of her favorite pastimes. The more that he got to know her, the less that he got to really see her. Everyone had a method of coping with their troubles; maybe Amiria’s was singing, something gifted to her in the form of a sonic wave. She controlled her element with ease and bent it to her will.
Through Amiria’s singing, the wind blowing through the trees, the water on the grave splashing against the ground, he was besieged by peace. Nature was circulating about, and it differed greatly from the bustling crowds of his home. There was not a day that went by where footsteps didn’t overwhelm the tiny marketplace, children running through the streets itching to catch up with their parents or fight with toy swords in hopes of one day becoming soldiers. He could still smell the freshly baked bread and broiled meat, hear the laughter of the men heading to the bar in the afternoon after a long morning of working through the daily romps of life.