by Shakyra Dunn
“I’m four months pregnant, and I’m very much on my feet right now,” Sien said sharply. “I can’t keep jamming these things on all the time, so I have to resort to being barefoot. So, unless you’d like one of these shoes to be somewhere other than my hands, I don’t think it’s wise to question my pain tolerance and my needs, Lancett Lune.”
Lancett held up his hands in defense. “Yes, ma’am. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive, I promise.”
“Lancett, you have a child, correct? I would have assumed that you went through these virtues with Olivia’s mother. A woman can be quite-”
“If you say moody, Solus, you’re going to be eating my shoe,” Sien hissed.
“‘Forward,’ but thank you for the threat, Miss Kaiser, I will take my thoughts in stride.”
“Uh, her mother and I weren’t on good terms during her pregnancy, no matter how much I tried to keep her happy,” Lancett tried to continue. “She just wanted me to be around. Once Olivia got to her second birthday, she decided that she was out of the motherhood category. I don’t mind though. Olivia makes my world spin.”
“I still want to kick her ass,” Sien admitted, stretching her feet for a moment before trotting up to the two, handing Lancett her shoes. “How much further?” Solus pulled out the map from his back pocket, scanning over the corridors of the area.
“Seems like we’re not too far off from here.”
A crimson wisp flew into his line of sight, leaving Solus momentarily confused about its presence. He reached out a hand to touch it only for the looming creature to venture towards the sky. Wisps from the mystic forest, just like in Erya’s rumor log. From beyond the distant treetops, Solus noticed a vast white building peeking out from beyond the bloomery. He squinted to confirm his suspicions, deciding to act on them—maybe Orisha was closer than he thought.
“Where are you going, Solus?” Lancett called, though his voice could barely reach him. Solus glanced back at the two, ushering them on before walking ahead, the map still in hand.
He emerged from the once endless forest to reach desolate grounds, the building that came into view from above revealing itself as a vast shrine, stretching as tall as the mountains of the northern border, blanketed under cobblestone and grime, as if the holy grounds had gone untouched for several years. He checked the map, and sure enough, they were in the right place. Funny, he was expecting Orisha to be a town, not a sacred ruin.
“I believe that we’ve been had,” Solus called back to Sien and Lancett.
When he received no reply from either of his friends and heard no footsteps from behind despite knowing that they had little distance apart and only walked straight, his blood pressure began to simmer. He dared himself to look back. The forest seemed to stretch to greater lengths than he remembered. It was as though one step into the grounds sealed his grim fate. He dropped the map to the ground, crossing his arms in a huff. Somehow, he always ended up this way: alone, shouldering burdens that others left for him to pick up. It was beginning to get old.
“All right, Warlords of Old, hear me,” Solus spoke aloud, tying back his hair with his cherished heirloom, diligently approaching the shrine, pushing open the double doors, listening to them slam shut behind him. “I’ve had more than enough of your silly games. What more do you feel you can rip from me before you are satisfied?”
He couldn’t find the time to marvel at the glimmering silver walls that temporarily housed him, too engrossed in the need to discover the secrets of the shrine. Helesa’s Shrine, the birthplace of the first noble Warlord, the first of Rem’s notable ancestors.
“Is this because my lineage renounces yours?” Solus continued, though he was beginning to wonder if his words were wasted. “See me differently from my ancestors. My soul resides with your descendants, forevermore. You have no need to test my resolve.”
Solus was rounding a corner when he stumbled upon a figure standing centerfold as if awaiting his arrival. It was a woman basked in a noticeable glow, her arms folded behind her back. Her knee-length, wavy black hair was gliding in an invisible wind, her winter dress in tatters. She was barefoot, her feet bruised and battered as though she had walked for decades without end. Solus took a step back and wiped his eyes—surely the woman was a ghost.
“You have arrived. I never anticipated that a prodigal son of Gularin would be the one to reach my grounds.” She spoke with enlightenment, but Solus caught a wave of venomous words seeping down her tongue rather quickly.
“Then you are Warlord Helesa,” he confirmed. He did not bow in her presence, as much as opportunity beckoned him not to count his blessings around a higher power. There was no respect to be given to a woman that challenged him outright. “Charmed to make your acquaintance. You may call me Solus.”
“Very well. Solus,” she began, laying a hand on her chest. “Few are able to come to this point willingly. Seeing the shrine alone is proof of your determination and value not only to Adrylis but to the Warlords of Old. I am more than happy to reward you for your efforts. Tell me, what brings you to my shrine? Have you come to offer your blessings and receive power?”
“I don’t need power,” Solus implied. “All that I need is safe passage to the Princess of Minsura and knowledge on where to find the Prince of Adrylis. I believe that she is sleeping here. And as for the prince, I wish to return to his side.”
“You are a Necromancer,” Helesa reminded him evenly. “Why should I allow you to act as a royal vizier, corrupted by false conception? There is too much risk.”
Solus bowed to the woman, his arm folded behind his back. “I wasn’t asking your permission to act. I am going to return to my friends. We are finished here, Warlord Helesa.”
She swung out her hand while he was taking his leave. casting a barrier that became visible to him for only a passing second before shifting out of his sight. The royal lineage was gifted with protection. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the barricaded path, a straight walk to the next corridor of the shrine. He was so close to uncovering his beloved’s whereabouts, and now even deities stood in his way.
“Stand down, Solus,” she told him.
“Stand aside, Helesa,” he retorted, his hand already on the hilt of his sheathed blade. He had no idea how much damage he could do to a second-generation Warlord with his current strength but allowing things to presently continue was even more dangerous.
“You won’t be able to defeat me,” she assured him, her fingers flexing. “I will not allow your kind to unravel the lineage that we have worked to preserve.”
Solus released his grip on his blade and sighed. “I do not destroy spirits—only quell them and send them to the forlorn realm of sleep. I cannot control what happens to their physical bodies. They live and breathe, or they merely perish. It makes my lineage ‘evil,’ but I will use this power differently to keep them alive. We will dethrone the villains that have sieged the kingdom. That is my only remaining purpose. Now, let me by.”
“Prove your worth to me, and act on your virtues,” Helesa snarled, lowering the barrier.
Solus found the unhinged statement captivating in a maddening form. He barely took a step before the shrine grounds unraveled, the stone flooring crumbling under his feet. He fell to his knees, shaking his head to clear his vision upon realizing that her idea of ‘worth’ meant enduring her sick games. Her powers held no difference from Hinju, hallucinatory manifestations meant to draw out someone’s true intentions. But they worked on two different wavelengths, and Hinju’s influence was a harrowing guideline into accessing his Necromancy. How would Helesa’s play out in the long run?
He stumbled down the long hall and pressed his hands to the sealed door at the end, banging on it once, then twice, watching it fly upward to allow him passage. Solus stepped inside and flinched when the door slammed down again, leaving him at a point with no return. He could only hope that Sien and Lancett would be waiting for him in a different region; otherwise, he’d be trapped here for good.
> “Do you know where your life began?”
That voice was easy to recognize—his guide through this feverish haze was none other than his best friend. How he missed Rem’s voice over the five years they were separated. Even that was enough to give him hope. Maybe along the way, he would be seeing him in person.
“No,” Solus admitted. “There’s much that I haven’t reclaimed.”
“Everyone has a key to their heart locking away the most precious memories, both bad and good. Are you willing to break through?”
“All in good time,” Solus reminded him. “For now, the goal at hand is a reunion. Are you going to help me to reach that goal?”
“We’re practically brothers, Solus. I’ll always be with you.”
Savage wolves cloaked in blinding light emerged from every corridor, likely at Helesa’s beck and call. They aligned with whoever was the stronger force in the vicinity, and who held more prolific stature than a Warlord? Pinning her against someone like Hinju would surely guarantee Linmus’s revival, but there was no honing a spirit. He couldn’t revive those that had a greater prowess than him—he came to realize that after encountering her.
The shadows fell by his blade, his movements swiftly paced. He couldn’t afford to waste time, or Leilana would surely continue to suffer without his guidance. He released a sharp inhale, his vision hazing over the surrounding area to find that the shadows had quelled for the time being and decided to continue forward. Standing still would get him nowhere.
The walls were boxing him in, and though he was far from claustrophobic, the ordeal was making Solus visibly uneasy. He kept his hand on the sheath of his sword and his eyes forward. Every corridor resembled the last—tanned, earthy walls that could crumble at the slightest slip of the hand if not nurtured diligently. The shrine was likely as old as Helesa herself, leaving behind a legacy of foreboding conflict for those that pierced through the walls.
“What do you believe will happen if you are to reach the princess?” Helesa’s voice echoed through the empty walls and passages. Solus rolled his eyes, well past the point of wanting to converse with her. Maybe it was her morals, or by some sheer coincidence, his lineage, but dealing with her was a hassle. “What if she refuses to accept you? Will you continue to hide your heart, your totem?”
“If she doesn’t accept me, then I won’t force her to,” Solus admitted. “But I know her. Sure, it will be hard for her to understand what I’ve been born into, and what part I shall play, but I will have faith in her. She always finds a way to overcome the odds. It will just take time.”
“You seem confident.”
Solus came to a shrunken corner, just barely big enough for him to squeeze through. He slid in, pressing his back against one side of the twin walls, his hands carefully maneuvering along the front side as he progressed forward, one step at a time.
“Tell me, Helesa,” he addressed, grunting a bit as the passageway continued to lessen around his body. His lungs were beginning to constrict, but he continued to push onward knowing that there was space on the other side of his plight. “What do you truly know about the denizens of this era? What do you understand about Rem and Leilana outside of their royal background? Or about me, aside from being an enemy to your kind?”
“The royal families provide balance and hope to Adrylis—they are to be the guiding keys to prosperity and development, flourishing the magical integrity that we have gifted them with over the generations. They both carry this mantle with pride, and they will continue to grow.”
Solus peered up at the crumbling ceiling as if he would find her there. “And what of me? I am of royal blood as well, from a separate country.”
“You are royalty in name only, not blood-right,” Helesa sneered. “Do not make this mistake.”
“Answer me,” Solus retorted.
“Your country is fractured—there is nothing left to carry it. The only thing that you have to offer as contribution is false hope. It is a blood-stained path, one that will end with you overthrowing the very man you claim to serve. That day will bring you ruin, for if such a fate should befall you, your beloved princess will rise to tear you down.”
Solus stumbled out of the closed passage and fell to his knees, clutching his heaving chest to regain some lost air.
“Are you prepared to take such a risk if it means gaining your answers?”
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” he mumbled, getting to his feet, dusting off his clothes. Resounding steps against the floors followed by a wisp of the whirling winds barely caught Solus’s attention before he found himself being thrust against the floor again. He caught his breath, pressing a hand to his aching ribs. All that was needed was a well-timed second, and he was able to catch a glimpse of his opponent, rolling out of the way to avoid a near fatal blow.
A shadow-plagued Dirionus wielding a lightning-tinged hammer hovered above him, greatly resembling the beast that nearly ensnared Kalonia. To think, he was diving back into the roots of the start of his winding journey. But things would be different.
He held up a hand in attempts to sway the Dirionus from its next strike, and the beast’s eyes moved synchronically with his gestures, as though it were attracted to his presence. As he assumed, it was nothing more than a corrupted being lost to time, no better than any of the other shadows he’d come to face. But now that he had gained new strength, they wanted to play their part. The Dirionus locked its eyes on him after its vision swayed about for a bit, and it relinquished a mighty roar that nearly drew Solus from his focus.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mumbled.
The Dirionus struck, the ground sinking up in form of split pillars. Solus shifted to the left, one of the pillars snagging onto his right pants leg and knocking him off balance. Grunting in midst of his timely recovery, Solus rolled out of the way of a counterstrike and plunged his broadsword into the beast’s side to make it stumble, slicing it across the back. The beast screeched in agony, slamming its hammer against the floor in a rampage. Solus found himself dodging every pillar that flew up, every crater that formed on the floor, but the act of frivolously dodging was trying on his weary body.
Fighting is a dance, he reminded himself casually as his feet trickled across the crumbling shrine, his blade meeting the Dirionus’s chest after he managed to close the distance, but before he could connect a proper attack, the monster’s hammer crashed against his sword, snapping the blade in half. Solus took a step back, his hand still on the hilt of his broken weapon, reaching for the ribbon holding his long ponytail in place. An arrow whistled across the air, striking the shadowy beast in the right eye, knocking it flat on its back. Solus’s eyes snapped away from the fallen Dirionus to the direction where the arrow flew from.
From beyond the crevices of shattered stone, Kinaju stood firm, his offensive stance unwavering as he kept his hand on an arrow from his quiver, ready to fire if needed.
“Hello again, brother.”
Solus was incredulous at the younger man’s sudden appearance. “Goodness, Kinaju. What are you doing here? You should be back in Linmus with-”
“I thought that you could use a lifeline sometime during your travels, so I took to the shadows and followed you around for a while. Father hasn’t noticed a thing; he’s been holed up in the library since your departure. I see that catching up with you was the right move after all.”
“I meant here,” Solus reiterated. “How were you able to reach Helesa’s shrine undetected?”
Kinaju sighed and lowered his weapon once he saw the Dirionus dissipate, leaving no detectable trace behind. “Please, brother, I act as the eyes and ears of Hinju Leerus and oversee much of what takes place in the Order of Helix, all without being seen until I make myself known. Stepping through a Warlord’s domain is mere child’s play.”
“Child’s play, he says,” Solus scoffed.
“I won’t be with you long, as the lady will likely latch onto my presence soon,” Kinaju assured him before po
king through his arsenal of weapons, handing off a rapier. “I’ve got swords to go around if you need them. But try not to break this one.”
“Mark me as typical, do you?” Solus struck the air a few times with the nimble weapon to get a proper feel for it. Kinaju smirked, one shoulder elevated as a shrug. “Not my most ideal blade, but I suppose that it will make due until I can forge another. Now then, shall we?”
The brothers stormed the shrine, keeping on their toes as they rushed through the winding corridors as a joined force. As the shadows meandered through the halls, Kinaju would take the front lines and shoot them down before Solus went in for the kill, the rapier’s reach slightly lower than his broadsword, but the strength needed to put behind his attacks far easier due to its inferior weight meshing with his own height.
The final room was met with a single door that Kinaju pointed out had a faint light shining from the other side—there, Solus would likely find Leilana, and he would be able to continue his path to finding Rem and reaching Linmus.
“I have heard that humans act in correspondence with their emotions,” Helesa’s voice chimed, much closer than the echo from above that Solus was accustomed to after beginning his plight. Solus didn’t bother turning around even after hearing Kinaju relinquish one of his trusted blades to steady his wicked hand. “Do you believe that your heart will carry you to Linmus again as an ally of the kingdom rather than a corruptor?”
“How long must we discuss this?” Solus hissed. “My duty is to Remiel, nothing more.”
“If that is so…” Helesa held up a hand, conjuring a silhouette before the two. Kinaju squinted and laid a hand on Solus’s shoulder, forcing him to turn around. Solus’s breath hitched in his throat as the silhouette took form with each step closer to him.
She appeared no different than from the day they were separated, her long dark hair caressing her petite shoulders, her vibrant blue eyes tinged with an undeniable hatred. Solus was about to call out to her when she suddenly swung her hand out, her prolific strength snagging his words away before they could surface. The air filling his lungs siphoned out slowly until he was left gagging, his hands clasped around his throat.