The Sage's Reign

by Shakyra Dunn

  He stumbled and nearly fell, but his determination kept him on his feet. The mines were caving in, Rem’s power too great to keep the area standing.

  From behind, Sien’s scream emerged, followed by a crushing thud. Solus whipped his head back to find that his path was cut off. A large chunk of the ceiling had caved in and broken through the floors. Sien and Leilana were still on the ground on the other side, Sien silently ushering him on. Leilana was gazing longingly at him with tear-filled eyes as if hoping that he would return to her side. Solus questioned his intentions for only a second, but right now, there was another that needed him more.

  “Please, Rem,” Solus yelled, his voice barely able to carry past the thick darkness. “Please fight back. We’ve come so far, you can’t leave me.”

  Every step brought him closer to Rem, a little more open to the suffering. Rem’s screams were filling the chasms, the Orb’s power beyond his limits, and yet, he was still here. He was strong enough to withhold it as much as possible. He wanted to live, and he needed help. Solus lowered his hands, his arms at his sides as he broke through the barrier, his ribbon unraveling and becoming lost within the miasma. It was a cherished gift to him, but it didn’t amount to failure. Rem was his treasure and had been for several years—with him gone, there was nothing left to fight for, no purpose for him in this life, and the world was all but damned.

  So close. He was so close.

  The barrier meant to house the Orb of Concord was sweeping in again; Rem was pushing him away. Maybe he couldn’t take the strain on his body anymore and was offering himself a way out. Solus shouted his name, reaching for him. Right as Solus managed to take a grasp on Rem’s arm, the gesture left Rem in even more pain, his screams emanating a force so powerful that Solus temporarily deafened, but he didn’t let go. He forced himself to take Rem’s other arm, looking the young prince in the face.

  His eyes were amber, absent of the iris, as though his soul was sucked dry. His razor-sharp teeth were hanging far past his lips, his hands completely consumed by the dark aura that transcended into claws. He was no different than a rabid animal, his body stolen by the very power that he needed to prevent such a fate.

  Son of Necromancy. You bear a burden greater than any strife of your fallen ancestors. To us, you have brought shame, failure. There is no hope left for you.

  Rem’s words were not spoken in the common Sentience that Solus had come to know, rather the words were jumbled, as if interpreted backward. True to his words, there was no hope resonating in Rem’s eyes. There was nothing left of the boy that he gave his life to, that he swore to protect. He had failed, and there was no mistaking that.

  “I know that I’ve failed you, Remiel,” Solus whispered, lifting his hand to caress the boy’s cheek, his eyes damp with tears. “But I hoped that I could make things right. I promise you that I still can if you would just wake up and let me prove it to you. Please…”

  Solus could feel his eyelids drooping, the overbearing aura too rough on his body, but the fire in his heart burning bright. He cupped Rem’s face in his hands and looked him in the eyes, pleading with the boy to return. He couldn’t let go of the little boy that took his hand, leading him away from the troubles in his heart. Rem had freed Solus from a life of loneliness. He was his second chance, and he wanted to return the favor, always.

  Who was he to break that boy’s heart, to wipe away his smile?

  Rem’s hands twitched, reaching for him, and Solus considered that he was getting through, his heart aflutter. Solus’s eyes widened when he felt a rough shove and found himself stumbling backward, falling into the deep chasm that once housed his footing. He heard Sien’s panicked screams, calling for him, but he couldn’t see her anymore. All that emerged was darkness during his long drop.

  Rem had pushed him. It took him some time to realize it. And now he was falling. Death would likely follow. The last thing that Solus was able to glimpse in midst of his confusion was a blinding light that besieged the upper grounds, and then, nothing.

  Not many people had the blessing of remembering their first moments, but somehow, it felt like waking from a long slumber and realizing that a new day had begun. There was so much opportunity right out of the door, and yet, there was no clear grasp on where it could all begin.

  But something was different. There was nothing in his memories that triggered a place in time where he dredged up the stamina to sit up from a plush bed and fall to his knees upon trying to find someone. Who was he searching for, and why? Why was it so hard to remember? Why did it make his skull throb and his body stiffen? Who was he?

  Firm hands on his shoulders forced him to lift his head, his dreary eyes meeting with a pair of concerned copper eyes, the new figure’s face framed by long sand-colored hair.

  “Solus?”

  That’s right, of course, he had a name. He was given a name at birth, just like everyone else. Of all things, how could he have forgotten that?

  “Are you all right?” the young man asked him.

  There were so many questions stemming in the back of his mind, but no matter how much he tried to muster up the words, they would not come. It was as though he was concealed behind a smog, unable to breathe, smoke filling his lungs and preventing him from uttering even a single word. He could barely keep his focus, and any movement that he sought out was ripped from him in an instant.

  “You’ve been asleep,” he continued. “We found you at the bottom of a chasm, and you didn’t have a heartbeat. But your body, your Necromancy, they brought you back. Only the most prolific in our lineage can regain their lives just once. You’ve advanced, Solus.”

  Advanced. He had grown as a Necromancer without so much as a grasp on his abilities, and now they’d given him one more opportunity to make things right. There was so little that he held onto, but now this boy could give him a chance to regain it all. Solus was holding his hand now, lowering his head to rest against the boy’s shoulder.

  “It makes me proud to be your little brother,” the boy told him. “I never got to be as fortunate as you. I’m sure father will be thrilled to know that you’re awake. You should rest, it will help you to become strong again. After all, you’ve been asleep for four years now.”

  Four years? What had happened that caused him to remain comatose for such an extended period? Apparently, he’d been found at the bottom of a chasm, nearly dead. Had he fallen? Maybe he’d been pushed by someone that had a vendetta against him? Either way, there was no denying that he was here now, and he needed answers. He needed to use his voice. Why couldn’t he?

  The hours elapsed, and all that Solus could do was sleep and hope for some progression in his state of recovery, but no matter how much rest and food that he was blessed with by his caretaker of a brother, he couldn’t clear the haze besieging his fragile mind. He felt no different from a marionette, chained down to a predetermined fate. He was regaining some sense of self, but not too quickly. Now he knew that he was in Linmus, resting his tired body on one of the plush beds.

  It was the second day of his prolonged rest when a man dressed in white robes carrying a crystalline staff on his back entered the premises, and one look made Solus jump from his bed and reach for the closest thing he could use as a weapon, but before he could grasp the hilt of a rod, a stream of icicles struck his hand and forced him to draw back. Solus glared up at the man, finding the resemblance that he had to his brother uncanny.

  “You’ve begun to remember,” the man told him, taking a seat at his bedside. “You know the truth about me, I assume. Kinaju is fickle about giving away viable information, and then he stumbles upon you and spills everything.” He cupped Solus’s cheeks in his hand, grinning. Solus couldn’t break away, no better than ice melting over an open fire. “The boy truly cares for you, but it’s only natural given that you are the one that he once idolized.”

  “H-Hinju,” Solus forced out the man’s name, his voice raw.

  “Yes, that is my name, Solus,” Hinju replie
d simply, pushing him onto the bed. Solus exhaled deeply, his fingertips grazing his pillow, leaving him fighting to push himself to a sit. Why was it so difficult to move? “It’s nice to see that you’ve got fight in you after being put through the ringer. That only further proves your strength as the prince’s sword.”

  Prince. Now it was coming back to him. He was Remiel’s chosen sword, the guide to his plight. His best friend and loyal companion. They were split apart, and the details were seeping in to help him regain the answers he craved.

  Solus was gritting his teeth at this point, reaching for Hinju to tear him apart before any more moves could be made, but the man laid a hand atop the younger man’s head, gently stroking his hair. Solus was coming close to screaming, the contact nothing but a farce. Hinju was always his enemy, but now the gestures were being taken to extremes. He needed to break free. He needed to find Rem and uncover the mysteries of his wounded heart. He had to escape.

  “Rest easy, my son,” Hinju told him softly. “There is much left for you to come to terms with. And then we can discuss your future.”

  Then again, if Hinju was here, that meant that he could regain some knowledge on the Order of Helix and find more information on where Rem was. Surely, he knew something, and he was withholding the information to keep him from running off. That missing piece could turn everything on its head as far as their rather unsettling relationship went.

  “How about when you are well rested, you come and join us for dinner? I am certain that I can make you a meal fit for a king.”

  Solus’s stomach was turning. Kinaju didn’t speak often of Hinju in a bad light as a father, but Hinju slamming the card of their bond on the table and expecting him to pick it up was like trying to light a fire on a wood stove—time-consuming, eliciting a lot of strength to prepare for a new movement, and overall strenuous. This man steered the wheel on his life and let it crash constantly. Where was there to be any acceptance or forgiveness?

  Hinju was evil, and now he was seeking to be a good father? Deplorable.

  “Hopefully by that time, you’ll be able to talk back.” Hinju laid a single finger over Solus’s forehead, and before Solus could reply, everything went dark.

  How many times did he have to wake up in this stupid castle to realize that he was going to be pulled under again if he didn’t cooperate? He was starting to run out of options just thinking about what to do next. At least, slowly, his haze was clearing, and his memories were returning, even if his body refused to give him the guidance that he needed to push forward. Everything ached, and he was left in solid contempt.

  He’d found the courage earlier to look in the mirror and get a glimpse of his face, and he almost didn’t recognize himself. His glasses were shattered, forcing him to set them aside. His silk-like hair was much longer, reaching the middle of his back and weighing him down.

  Five years…

  The glass calendar on the wall was set to the eleventh month of 1936, two months after said years since his birthday had come and gone. That would have made him twenty-three. He had lost his vibrancy and youth, all because he had succumbed to an unfavorable sleep. He peered out of the bedroom window. The skies were unusually foggy, and he could only glimpse the world beyond his prison.

  He wondered how Linmus looked now.

  “How are you feeling?” Kinaju asked after joining him in his room. Solus was still sitting up, his hands folded in front of him, his thoughts going asunder.

  “Fine,” he managed, clearing his throat afterward.

  Kinaju placed a hand on the man’s chin, tilting it up to face him more accurately. “Your eyes are more vivid now. You’re finally coming out of your stupor. It’s a good sign.”

  “How did you find me?” Solus asked, not wanting to beat around the bush.

  “The Order of Helix was tracking you for a while, but when the reports suddenly stopped rolling in and all traces were cleared out, we searched for you. It took us months, but we ended up finding you in the bottom of a pit just outside of Nilu. Do you remember what happened?”

  “No.” Solus couldn’t lie about his splintered memories, but he couldn’t just throw the truth at Kinaju either—anything that he said could easily reach Hinju, so he had to choose his words carefully. “Were there any other survivors in the chasms?”

  “There wasn’t anyone else around,” Kinaju told him.

  Then the others might be alive. They could be on the run. Maybe they were looking for him, or maybe they had left him for dead altogether because they couldn’t reach him, but either way, they weren’t in Hinju’s clutches, and that was promising to hear.

  “Father wanted me to invite you to dinner,” Kinaju continued. “Would you join us?” Solus lowered his head. He really hated the idea of sharing a meal with his enemy, even if the man was his birth father. Cyril Brenner would always be his only father. Remiel would be his guiding light until the end, and surely, they would meet again.

  “Yes,” Solus responded.

  “It’s all right to say no,” Kinaju said lowly. “I know how you feel about him. He can be rather precocious. I could always tell him that you’re still resting.”

  “And let him keep me trapped here like I’m a caged animal any longer?” Solus threw off the covers and stood up. “Certainly not.”

  “Are you actually going to make conversation with him?” Solus started to strip out of his worn robes, momentarily gagging at his own stench, but the urge to simply get the dinner over with was too far ahead of his need to bathe. “You’re not going to answer me, I understand. Would you like me to leave you to get dressed?”

  “I would appreciate the privacy, yes,” Solus replied, gesturing for him to leave after dropping his robe to the floor, leaving his upper half exposed.

  “Very well then, I’ll meet you in the dining hall after I change. I’m certain you remember where that is, as long as you’ve lived here.”

  Solus waited for Kinaju to leave before he threw open the closet doors and found his old formal wear inside, picking at random on his consort colors. Luckily, he had come to realize that his old room had never changed. His dress shirt wasn’t properly pressed, his tie was carelessly wrapped around his wrist, the crests undone, his pants running a bit too low. One misstep and they would likely be stained by the dirt on his shoes. He tugged on his low ponytail, the extra length unnerving for him, but he knew that in time, he could either deal with it or chop it off.

  He never liked dressing for the occasion.

  For the first time, he would be facing the state of the kingdom, the place he had called home for several years. When the doors opened, he was mentally sound but unprepared. Cobwebs trailed from the chandeliers, the once luxurious halls that used to be so welcoming of its guests in shambles. The wallpaper was torn, blood and grime staining the golden shade, never properly cleaned. The lanterns had long since burned out. Corpses of the former servants were lined up on the walls in shackles, almost like trophies.

  Had five years really made that much of an impact on the castle?

  He pressed his hand to the wall as he walked, using some of the melting candles that were still aglow to his advantage. Despite how quiet and unsettling the castle was, Solus didn’t seem deterred by the atmosphere.

  “You look nice,” Kinaju stated once Solus reached the dining room. The younger man kept his unkempt hair down, pulled out of his face spare a few strands that covered his forehead. His dinner attire didn’t differ much from his warrior’s robes, though they were mostly absent of armor plating.

  “Is Hi-…father here yet?” Solus asked, nearly choking on the forced title.

  “He wanted to make dinner himself, so you’ll have to give him a few more minutes.” Kinaju folded his hands behind his back. “You know, I really am relieved to see that you’re up. We weren’t certain that you’d wake, as severe as your injuries were.”

  Solus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, unsure of the younger man’s sincerity. He settled with, “I got over it
, and I’m glad of it.” Kinaju frowned at the cold shoulder. The tension was a little too disdainful for his taste.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Kinaju stated a second time.

  “What does this meeting pertain to?” Another dodge.

  “I’m not too sure, but we’ll endure. Father doesn’t take time away from his duties often.” As if on cue, Hinju stepped into the dining hall and set a large pan in the center of the twenty-chair table, tossing some steaming towels aside and shaking his hands free of the lingering heat. Kinaju stifled a laugh. “Father, why didn’t you just levitate the pan? It could have saved you a lot of time and effort.”

  “Because I wanted to be a ‘normal’ father, is that such a problem?” Solus raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on his chin, examining the pan. The aroma fueling from it implied that whatever lied under the lid was burnt—he could smell the charcoaled remains, and the meat was probably overdone. He supposed that it was a solid C for effort, for what it was worth. “Go on, both of you, have a seat.”

  “You heard the man,” Kinaju joked, pulling Solus into a chair next to him.

  “All right, I forewarn you, Solus, I’m not the best chef in the house. I know that you have a love for lamb. I thought that this would help you to get back on your feet, but it’s relieving to see that you came to dinner regardless.”

  Solus marveled at the lid rising, the steam piling from the condensed space, but his face remained virtually unchanged when the meat made its appearance. The shank was a dark brown, tomatoes and onions lining the exterior of the centerpiece, topped with fresh chives and a hint of lemon. He had to admit, it looked incredible. Now he just had to hope that it wasn’t undercooked on the inside or too in line of medium rare. He always preferred his meats well-done.