by C. A. Sabol
Selene felt her eyes widen in surprise. “What?”
“Yes. He will be coming with us today,” Dorian said with spite lacing his words. “I cannot help that you care for him so, but I do not think that you should be tempted to go outside of the palace again ... at least not until it is safe.”
“Dorian,” Selene breathed. “How can I thank you for this?”
“Stay where you are supposed to, Sister,” he snorted as he left the room. “We leave in an hour.”
Selene watched as the door to her room shut with a small bang, but she felt a smile start to form on her face. Dorian had granted her forgiveness, and he was willing to make her pain easier to bear by moving Etoileon to the palace, where she could see him every day if she wanted! It was almost too good to be true. She looked out of the window in her room, blinking at the bright light. “Thank you,” she whispered as she stared wondrously into the sunshine.
KING DORIAN ALIGHTED from his transport glider, dressed for the Assembly of the Crown Forces. He was wearing his finest armor, which had been polished to a shine for the meeting that hour. He wore the traditional general’s cape, and held onto the spear of war, a tradition that had been followed since ancient times. Dorian was quickly followed by his combat in arms. The men behind him were the most skilled marksmen of their time. They were all dressed in apparel and mood alike as well, for the assembly today was no ordinary assembly. There was one ordinary civilian with him, however—Josiah the Judge. The eager man had come to offer his support of the Council to the King. Dorian had gladly allowed the friendly judge to accompany him as they all headed for the outer keep.
“Your Majesty,” Josiah spoke up quietly, “How do you think the people will take the news?”
“I’m hoping that they will not riot at this point,” Dorian couldn’t help but smirk. “Excuse me, Josiah, for my bad timing of my sense of humor. I was not very calm when I first heard the news, myself. I cannot ask my men to change around all their plans at once, and if it were not such a dire situation, I would not. But this is turning into a costly war, and we must change, or face destruction.”
Josiah nodded. “I agree, Your Highness, as sorrowful as it is,” he said sympathetically. “Times of war are never easy, but giving up or slowing down just causes more problems. It is best that the situation is taken head on, not so the victor can begin exploiting the spoils, but so that people everywhere can be once again reassured of something that goods and money will never buy them—their peace. It is sad to think that people believe more and more that to have happiness, they need to have more things. They don’t realize that having a lot of goods and resources means nothing if they will still die in the end. They put their trust in their treasures here, forgetting that there are some things money and power will never guarantee. Until something is lost, no one will ever fully realize the worth of the more eternal desires, such as peace, hope and love.”
Dorian nodded. “You are a wise man, Josiah. I agree with you.”
Josiah bowed his head respectfully. “I have always had faith in you, Dorian,” he said, using the king’s given name. “I have long considered you a friend of mine. I am glad to be here beside you. Your men will not abandon you this hour; if they have any respect or love for you at all, as I do, then I can say without any doubt that they will be, again, like myself, in that they will be honored and privileged to stand beside you, in this battle to end all battles.”
Dorian felt his eyes mist over slightly. “Thank you, Josiah, my friend,” he said, before he walked out onto his platform. It was time for him to speak at last.
RONAL WATCHED AS THE king approached the pulpit and quieted down at once. He and several of the surrounding troops and leaders had been discussing what was going to happen to them. It had already reached the ears of the crowd that reassignments were in order for all of them. He watched as the king raised his hands, and his trumpets sounded, telling the crowd to cease making any noise at once.
Dorian looked more determined than Ronal had ever seen him. Maybe it was something about the armor, but the king had an air of strength about him that was not to be overlooked. Placing his hands on the sides of the platform, the king was silent for a moment as he looked around the crowded outer keep.
“Gentlemen, Fighters, Soldiers, Enforcement Members ... Everyone. You are all here today because you have willingly chosen to fight against the rebels of this world. You are all here today, to answer the call that you have felt in your heart. All of you, for taking that first step alone, are heroes. No one deserves to be asked to take the life of another, especially when that one may be the life of his brother, his neighbor, his father, his son.”
Everyone remained silent still as the king paused. They seemed to be waiting on edge for him to continue.
“I am proud to count you among my number,” Dorian said. “Each of you has proven his worth to this nation in some way. And before this week is done, I know that each of you will again use your gifts for the good of our world.” He looked away from the men, out into the distance. “Sapphira is a beautiful world, isn’t it? I look every morning, and I cannot recall a time when I have seen the same sunrise twice. The seas and the wind almost sing their harmony throughout this world. The plants grown here in Diamond City flourish, as though to show off their beauty for the pleasure of others. The animals here are docile, each one kind distinguished from the other.” Here he smirked. “It is only when I look at the people born of this world, do I begin to find the ugliness of nature. Many are not so, some cannot help it. I can say assuredly that there are people who are good, for the sake of goodness. But I have yet to find an individual who was bad for the sake of badness.” He dropped his playfulness as he turned to the serious part of his message. “I believe in the goodness of man, and I choose to believe this. That is why I will mourn the loss of both rebel and friend. But I will not be one to condone the evil that they do, so in order to give justice to the world, I must kill. And so I will. There is a great battle ahead of us, in only a few short days. I have come to tell you that many of you who were to be sent away are now to be kept here. The rebel army, numbering close to a hundred legions, is camping out on the border of this great city, of this great world. I have come to ask you, Are you ready to fight?” With this, Dorian lifted up the Spear of War, in great exclamation. “Are you ready to fight?”
There was a great wave in the crowd as each man held up their own arms, mimicking Dorian’s hold on the Spear.
Ronal was among those who raised up his arms in triumph. But even as he did, he wondered if he was watching his life with Cyerra fly away, out of his grasp forever.
AEMON FELT A SURGE of pride fill up his chest as he watched his army assemble. He’d come to the outskirts of Diamond City to prepare for the final battle of this war. His advisor, his Uncle Emanon, had brought him to this special place in hopes of redeeming his dead brother’s name.
Aemon had no such plan for restoring the honor of his father’s name. As far as Aemon could tell, his father had been a selfish, narcissistic man, who had left his family to go and fight a war over another woman. But Uncle Emanon, his father’s younger brother, was sure that Aemon would come to see the nobility of Ammos’ actions. Aemon was skilled enough to know that disillusioning his uncle would only hinder his military efficiency and delay the arrival of the new world government.
The army numbered about a hundred legions, filled with young men from many islands and areas around the Continent. They were going to charge the city in a matter of days, once all the weapons had been distributed, the men counted and identified, and the final draft of the plans reviewed by all the soldiers. Aemon knew, looking at the sun set in the far west horizon, that all the preparations would be finished by noon on the third day. It would be then that he would call his army to attack.
His only regret was stopping by his former house. His Aunt Rou had been home, and he had surprised her. His Aunt Rou was Emanon’s sister as well as Ammos’, but her years of living nea
r the house of the monarchs had dulled her sense of discontent with the government. She had, in recent years, blamed the poor island education system on her feelings of rebellion. At least, that was what he’d gathered from her before his commanding general had knocked her out cold. His two companions had torn the house apart on the inside while Aemon had run up to his room to grab his father’s flag.
He’d kept it safe all these long years, as though he’d known from a very small age that he would fulfill the destiny that his father had tried and failed at. The azure hue of the flag had faded over the years, but the constellation of the Four-point prison in the center of it remained a resplendent white. There was a small rip running partially down the middle of the flag, and each year, it seemed to grow longer, no matter what Aemon did to it.
Now, he handed the flag to his uncle. “Here, Uncle Emanon,” he said. “Put this on the tallest pole we have. I want this to be carried before the troops in battle, as a symbol of the fulfillment of time.”
“Yes, I shall,” His uncle responded with an amused look on his face. Emanon was a tall, muscular man in his late thirties. He looked like his nephew, with dark hair and gray eyes. On some days, Emanon found it entertaining that he took orders from his imbecile of a nephew, but his true master, Obsidian, had promised that Aemon would bring untold riches to Emanon for his diligent advising and his keen overlook on the matters they faced as the final battle approached.
Now holding the flag of his brother who had gone before them, he felt that Aemon had done something right on his own. His brother Ammos would be proud of Aemon for this. It was one thing to avenge the death of his family members, but it was another to restore their honor and triumph in their upheld beliefs. Emanon remembered all too well the day that he had lost his oldest nephew and his brother.
As he called for his servants to deliver the flag to the forward flag bearer, he felt a longing in his heart for his family. He missed them still, though it had been over eighteen years since they had been taken away from him. He suddenly wondered if he would ever see his twin sister again.
FOR THE FIRST TIME in weeks, Selene could not get to sleep. She stared down at her covers with almost a hateful look in her eye, as she was caught between self-pity and self-loathing.
There was no explaining her feelings. She felt weary, as though her heart had been burdened with a heavy weight. She felt sick, and could not stand the sight of food or drink. She would only sip water from time to time, and she found that it had turned bitter to the taste. She felt like she was empty, but she felt full of guilt; she felt tired but she could find no rest. She longed to talk with Pegasus, but she dreaded facing him.
“These days have been so hard on me,” she thought out loud. “I have proven to be weak and undeserving more than ever in the eyes of Crystallon.” Surely then, she reasoned, she could not feel any worse in facing Pegasus. But what if he would be nowhere to be found? She had strayed so far away from him in just a matter of hours. To think, she thought, that I had just talked with him two nights ago! Now I am lonely, and I can’t feel his presence within me at all.
Selene glanced out the window and saw the millions of pathway lights glowing, as soldiers began to register for their deployment around the city limits.
Thanks to the credibility of Cyerra’s Aunt Rou, and the agents of the Crown who backed her information up as correct, it was found that the rebel army was preparing for a great battle at Diamond City in a matter of days. Selene knew that she would be ordered to stay inside the palace as the fighting took place, but she wished that Dorian would send her away somewhere. She frowned as she recalled how she had seen Dorian take the news when he’d come back from picking her up at the hospital.
Her arrogant brother had practically grinned at the news; he had known along with Aemon that the winners of this battle would win the war. There were so many soldiers and Fighters on call for this battle that there would be no room for any new recruits for some years.
There was a sense of anticipation hanging in the air, even from what Selene could see down below in the courtyard. There was a great deal of teary-eyed and crying women down in the courtyards. They’d been allowed to wait for their loved ones to be assigned, as well as a short time to say their good-byes, before the battle started. Selene watched them, and suddenly wondered how Cyerra was doing. It couldn’t be easy on her, Selene thought as she kept her eyes on the masses below. Selene knew that Cyerra would be heart-broken over it. She made a silent promise to herself to allow Cyerra to take it easy over the course of the next couple of days before the battle was rumored to start.
Selene slumped back down. There were rumors that told of the great number of troops that Aemon had rallied to go behind him, rumors that declared the monarchy to be at a strong disadvantage. The princess feared that her friends, her loyal people, and even the ones who aligned themselves with the enemy, would be killed or hurt as a result of all this. She wished that there was something she could do to stop it, but she knew, thinking of the overshadowing darkness that hid in her own soul, she was at a loss to even save the one person she ought to have been able to save—herself.
The rest of the night passed slowly for Selene as she tossed and turned, unable to find rest.
IT WAS RAINING AGAIN.
The soft pitter-patter of the rain falling against the windows and walls of the palace could be heard clearly through the silent hallways. The castle was filled with an unspeakable sense of dread. The day for the troops to be sent out towards the rebel army camp had come. Even the skies seemed to know it, and many believed it was for that reason that the rains had come.
The princess had not found any rest in her light sleep; the thunder and lightning of the storm had caused her to jolt awake any time that she felt herself drifting off. But she was not the only one who had been kept awake during the long, black hours of the moonless night.
Cyerra made her way through the palace, her steps slow and her eyes glazed over. She had no particular destination in mind, as almost the entire staff had been allowed to sleep late. The king had seemed to know that his workers and servants would need some quiet time before they set about to do their work. Almost all of the employees had agreed with the king, and none had objected.
Though the battle had not yet begun, it seemed only right to mourn. The battle for the Continent would commence, and then all would be swept up in fervor, rejoicing with the victors, or mourning for the lost, or even both. There was not a soul in all of Diamond City that would not be affected in some way; time for mourning the loss of innocence and the loss of this tranquil and comforting ignorance was needed. With change always came sacrifice, and this sacrifice was one to be mourned.
Cyerra turned the corner and found herself out in one of the open courtyards of the palace. There was no roof over this courtyard, but the walkway surrounding it had a section of elegant roofing installed to shield her visitors from the persistent raindrops. Cyerra felt the splash of the falling rain on her shoes and her dress, but she did not move as she watched the view before her.
There was a small pavilion in the middle of this smaller courtyard that arched up just reaching past the surrounding walkway roof. The roof of the small pergola was shaped like a dome, and the columns that supported it were of the ancient fashion. For some reason, Cyerra suddenly felt the urge to take shelter under it.
She picked up her skirts and made her way down the path to the pavilion, her pace never changing from her solemn march, even as the rain soaked her skin and dampened her clothes. Her hair began to whip around her face, the wet strains sticking to her as the wind picked up. She did not really care; on some level, she gloried in it. There was something so alluring about breaking free of the comforts of the modern world, to find oneself caught up in nature’s storm, she thought.
When she came in under the pavilion from the rain, she was shocked to see that someone else was there. She could hardly believe her eyes as she looked down at his crouching form. “Ronal?”
/> He looked up at her. He hadn’t heard her arrive over the sound of the rainstorm. “Cyerra,” he welcomed her, a smile slowly finding its way onto his face. “I was hoping that I would get to see you again today.” He looked away as he added, “But I wasn’t expecting to see you this early.”
“I can leave, if you want to be alone,” she offered softly. She knew what he was feeling, and that there was little chance that she would be able to help him.
“No, please. Stay,” he swept out his hand, beckoning her to come and sit down next to him on the pavilion floor. “You always manage to cheer me up. That’s one of the things I loved about you, even when I first met you.”
Cyerra drew back slightly, catching the tone of his words. “Please, don’t do that,” she begged. “I don’t think I can stand hearing all of the reasons why you love me. Not now, of all times.”
“I suppose that it is rather poor timing,” Ronal agreed. “But I have to, because I might not ... get another chance to say what exactly is in my heart for you.” When she remained silent, he continued. “Cyerra, I have nothing at this point in my life to offer you, only the promise that I will never forget you. Whether death should come between us or not, I will keep the memories of our days together close in my heart. You have brightened my life in these last few months. Of all the things in this world, the one thing I’m most grateful for is meeting you.”
Cyerra felt hot tears streaming down her face as she shakily nodded. “Ronal ... please be careful. Please promise that you’ll come back to me.”
Ronal shook his head. “I cannot make a promise like that,” he said. “I do not honestly know if I would be able to keep it. And I can’t cause you to hate me for that, should I be gone.” He shifted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her. “This world is changing so quickly, all of a sudden,” he told her, whispering in her ear. “So many things that seemed important before, don’t really seem so significant now. So many things are new and strange, and I’m not sure that any of them are good, either. But I do know that you will always have a place in my heart, and you will always be a good thing to me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for caring. And thank you for being you. I love you.”