Sword from the Sky

by R. Janvier del Valle

  ***

  Luca ran with urgency down the long, steep hallways of the grandiose school, for he knew he was late. After reaching the doors leading into the banquet hall, he burst in, exhausted from his excessive sprinting. Every year, after the completion of the Spadas, Davinians were called to the banquet table to partake in a great feast celebrating the accomplishments of that year. To the Davinians, the importance of fellowship and community were unequivocal. All Davinians were encouraged to come, including those from far out lands, and they convened in the banquet hall, a massive space that served as a vessel to rich bonding and friendly greetings.

  The hall was spotless, smelling of fire and drink. It was exquisitely polished, yet retained a charming comfort, like a warm blanket next to an embracing fire. Huge windows crowded the walls on both sides of the expansive room. At the rear of the hall stood what was most inspiring to all: the bare wall of the gorge cliff where the image of the Blademaker breathed in the natural essence of the rocky surface. The image itself was three stories high and was imprinted on the rocks, as if seeping forth from the crevices of the gorge’s jagged skin. The image showed a vision of the Blademaker sitting among the rocks of the Bellowing Mountains. With his hammer in hand, he forged what were to become the nine blades of Daví. Under the image near the bottom was a small pool with an unnatural transparency. Inside the pool was a mixture of diamonds and sapphires, which gave out a variety of lights reflecting off the water, sending rays of pure beauty up along the surface of the cliff.

  On the second-floor balconies, on the right and left walls, was the Davinian Boy Choir. They were dressed in white gowns that reached down to the tops of their feet. The robes were coated with white pearl sequins all throughout, and their collars were adorned with sapphires and diamonds. There was gold trimming running down their robes’ lengthy sleeves. The boys’ hoods were made up of layered silk, highlighted with various rows of diamonds.

  The Choir sang with majesty, and their song was truth birthed from music. Their notes penetrated all who were present like waves crashing upon a brutish coral reef nestled along a turbulent shore; it left the Davinians with a taste of what was infinitely beyond the sandy shores and in the fathoms of the deepest seas. Smiles reigned throughout the hall.

  The moment Luca stepped into the room, Siel approached him.

  “You summoned me, Alta?” Luca said with his head slightly lowered.

  “Yes, Luca,” Siel said. “You’re a Davinian, are you not? You must feast with us at the banquet. No one is denied a chance to do so. You have proven yourself to be in our fellowship. The feast is for the glorious and for the fallen.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, Luca,” Siel said, “please show me that which I’ve felt you desiring to reveal to me.”

  Caught by surprise, Luca reacted to his words and quickly took the sword off his back. He fumbled with his hands as he began to unwrap it.

  “Don’t let your arms flail in such a manner,” Siel said. “Keep your movements short so as to not attract attention.”

  “Right,” Luca said. He calmed down and gently revealed part of the sword to the Alta’s eyes.

  “Jubahn, you have experienced much suffering, and yet you also have feasted on the glorious,” Siel said. “No earning of one’s blade could ever amount to the majesty that comes from grabbing a hold of this sword.”

  “Then take it,” Luca said. “I bring it to you. I didn’t know what to do with it. It’s not mine. It came from the sky.”

  “Then you must return it,” Siel said.

  “Pardon?” Luca said. “I don’t understand. How can I return this to the sky?”

  “If it doesn’t belong to you, you must return it,” Siel said. “You said so yourself; it does not belong to you. But, it came to you, and it’s in your possession, thus it’s yours for the moment. You must keep this sword with you until it can be returned to its rightful place.”

  “But why me?” Luca said. “Why must I keep it? Why can’t you? Surely, you would know better how to protect it and keep it from harm.”

  “Yes, I would know better,” Siel said. “But it’s not mine to protect. The sword came to you, not to me. The sword isn’t for me to do whatever needs to be done with it. You can’t give me what is not yours but has been given to you from above.”

  “So this was given to me?”

  “Yes, it’s seems so,” Siel replied, “and I can’t take it. Would I give you my Rasplendur? Neither should you give me yours.”

  Siel’s words were a revelation to Luca, and he stood as if breathing had been lost to him. “My Rasplendur?” Luca said. “This is my Rasplendur?”

  “Could it be anything else?” Siel said.

  “But I’m not allowed to wield a Rasplendur,” Luca said.

  “Well, can you wield it?” Siel said. “It seems to be covered in some unnatural crust, and I’m sure it’s incapable of cutting, thus it’s not useful. You must remove that dirt before you can use your Rasplendur.”

  “And how do I remove the dirt, Alta?” Luca said.

  “That you need to figure out during your exile,” Siel said. “Please wrap the sword back up and place it on your back.” Luca did so without hesitation. “Now, there is something else we need to discuss—about Lady Malasorta. Luca, I’m not surprised she came after you. It must have been terrifying for you, so I was happy to hear you had…help. Though, for now, keep it secret. Nobody knows what happened. Keep it that way, or too many people will start speculating, and everything will be a mess to sort out. But most important of all,” Siel bowed his head near Luca, “do not go seek your mother.”

  “My mother? You know about her? But father said—”

  “I catch all secrets that are reveled the moment they are so. Luca, heed my words. I fear you aren’t strong enough to go on such a quest. Will you heed my wishes?”

  “Yes, Alta,” Luca said. “I’ll do as you say.” He said this contrary to his real intentions, and he felt a nauseous gurgle slide down his throat, down to his stomach.

  “Very well,” Siel said. “Go now and be with your friends,” Siel said with a smile, and then he retreated into the crowd.

  When Luca turned his head, the first thing that graced his vision was Lereh of Heatheranla, who stood just a few yards away from him. Luca placed his eyes on the red-haired beauty, and feelings began to swell up inside. She stood in the middle of a crowd, and next to her was Prince Nefiru of Corco.

  Nefiru was tall and with a slender, athletic build. Long, wavy mounds of brown hair were his mane, and he had dark eyes, the darkest Luca had ever seen. Nefiru was nothing less than princely; a true prince, not like him, soiled like the darkest shadows. What would a Flower want with a fallen jubahn when she had Nefiru to stare at? Luca noticed how Nefiru kept his eyes on Lereh and how she sometimes smiled at his grins. He suddenly had a dislike for Prince Nefiru, and a great scowl came over his face.

  He turned his head to his group of friends and saw them staring back. Why were they staring at him? Better yet, why wouldn’t they stare? He stuck out of the group. He was an unwanted, an exile. They were right to stare in such a way. Regardless, it still bothered him. But what hurt him the most was that all his close friends had been awarded their Rasplendurs, real ones, not something that came out of the sky. The gleaming hilts of their blades poked out of each and every one of their kingly ceremonial robes. But maybe the sword on his back was something truly magical? For now, though, it was covered full of dirt, akin to its new master. So Luca crept up to his friends, not knowing exactly how to greet them.

  “I feel overdressed,” Luca said, breaking the ice. All of them could not help but give a warm smile.

  “I don’t know,” Luleh smiled. “You might have forgotten to clean a couple of spots on your rush to get over here; which, by the way, you’re late.”

  “Well, I have good reason,” Luca said, pointing to his mask and leg.

  “That’s no excuse,” Lereh said as she joined the g
roup with Nefiru following behind. She turned to Nefiru and introduced him. “Luca, this is Prince Nefiru of Corco.”

  And all you hear is prince and prince as they greeted each other. Luca saw how Nefiru kept close to Lereh. His dislike for Nefiru grew even more—but Luca played nice.

  “I’ve always wanted to set eyes on Corco,” Luca said. “I heard it’s beautiful.”

  “It’s the most awe-inspiring place, a true shining city upon a hill,” Nefiru said.

  “I’ve been there a few times during my travels,” Lereh said. “There’s nothing quite like it. It’s definitely more enchanting than this dreary kingdom. Maybe you can visit when you go away on your exile.” She said this in a not-so-nice manner but then realized how careless she’d been.

  “Perhaps,” Luca said with kindness. “If you think so highly of it, Lereh, then it should be nothing short of glorious.” Lereh kept her mouth shut.

  “Nefiru, your ren couldn’t possibly get any cleaner,” Luleh said as she eyed his shining ceremonial ren, beaming with the colors of his homeland.

  “Yes, he’s quite princely,” Lereh added, her statement cutting through Luca like a dull blade. Luca now became even more self-conscious about his soiled appearance. He stepped back a bit, and surprisingly, so did Vehru and Pabru, knowing quite well their friend was dealing with a bout of insecurity and needed their support.

  “So, are you forced to wear that mask at all times?” Nefiru said. Lereh did not like the comment, and her eyes expressed her sentiment to Nefiru.

  “It seems so,” Luca replied, “except for when I go to sleep and all.”

  “Well, you have a pleasant face,” Luleh said. “I do miss seeing it.”

  “I don’t miss it at all,” Pabru smirked, not surprisingly.

  Luca took notice of Lereh and how she had a hard time keeping her eyes on him. “Does my mask make you uncomfortable?”

  “I figure it would make everyone uncomfortable,” Nefiru said.

  “Why would it?” Lereh said. “Nothing scares me.”

  “So it’s scary then?” Luca said. Lereh remained silent.

  “Did the Alta ask you to come?” Vehru said, breaking the awkward pause.

  “Yes, I was summoned,” Luca said.

  “That was nice of him,” Nefiru said. “Exiles aren’t usually allowed to partake of the fellowship. He must have other reasons for you to be here.”

  “I think you can quit fishing for conspiracies,” Vehru said.

  “Yes, quite a bore,” Luleh said. And to change the subject, “What’s that on your back?”

  Luca thought about the answer for a second and opted for the truth. “It’s my Rasplendur.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence between friends as they all gasped. Then smiles came across their faces.

  “You don’t want to tell us what’s really under there?” Luleh said.

  “It’s not the right time,” Luca said, playing along. “It’s secret for now.”

  “For now,” Lereh said, taking Nefiru’s arm and dragging him away.

  “Fair enough, friend,” Vehru said. But Luca could not hear his friend’s words, or at least appeared so, for he kept his eyes on Lereh as she walked away with her hand on Nefiru’s arm, and Luca for the first time desired to be a true prince, born of nobility, beaming in a set of glorious robes—but Luca was nothing of the sort. To save his disposition, he quickly changed the subject.

  “So, you have that leg of mine?” Luca asked his friends.

  “Oh, so you heard?” Luleh said.

  “My father told me about it,” Luca said. “It was quite stupid of you guys to head out at night to look for a strange metal. Yet, it was pure excellence at the same time. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Vehru said. “It was a bit of fun, until we ran across the dark warrior.”

  “I wish I could have been there to fight with you guys,” Luca sighed.

  “With things how they are at the moment, you still might get that chance,” Luleh said.

  “I’m not one for fighting,” Pabru said. “I’d rather eat. When is this thing going to start?”

  And as if in perfect timing, the bell sounded off.

  “Looks like someone heard you,” Luca said.

  Vehru, Pabru, and Luleh huddled together, waiting for Siel’s instructions. Nefiru and Lereh returned to join them, including another boy named Tamru, a seventh-blade from the region of Nawa, a land in the northeastern part of Esterra characterized by many lakes and lakefront dwellings. He was of fair skin, and his hair was the color of autumn’s embrace. He was thin, yet never prone to getting hurt, and he always walked with a smile spread across his face.

  Luca kept his eyes on Nefiru and Lereh, and gaining an ounce of confidence, he put himself between Tamru and Nefiru. “Tell me, prince of Corco,” Luca said. “I’ve heard my father speak of another, older Davinian school. Is it true that there is a second Blade School of Daví in your kingdom?”

  “Yes there is, and I’ve been to it many times,” Nefiru said, “but never inside. It’s forbidden. It has been abandoned, and it must stay that way.”

  “Why is that?” Tamru said.

  “Because it was the Blademaker’s final wish,” Nefiru said. “At least, according to Davinian lore, that is. And since it is so, we have placed a thousand guards around the school; this has been done for a hundred years or more. Since I was born, I have always known it to be the ‘School of a Thousand Guards.’”

  “Humph,” Luca said. “I would still like to see it someday. How hard is it to sneak into?”

  “Were you not paying attention?” Nefiru said. “It’s guarded by a—”

  “Yes, a thousand guards,” Luca said aggressively. “Maybe I should pay a visit to Corco like you said, when I am on exile, and see these thousand guards. For depending on how they hold their heads, to the ground or to the sky, I should be able to sneak in. But not like a thief!”

  Nefiru wondered what he meant. “That would be a dangerous plight,” was all he said.

  “There’s nothing more perilous than life under a sunless land,” Luca said. “More dangerous than a thousand guards, anyway.”

  Sensing Luca’s aggressiveness, Lereh took hold of Nefiru, and they broke off from the two boys, heading inside the banquet hall.

  “I should like to see that school as well,” Tamru said with a smile. “I know I can’t go with you on your exile, but I would definitely meet you there.”

  “The more the merrier,” Luca said right before Siel stood up on his throne and whistled for everyone to take their places.

  One after the other, the Davinians made their way inside the banquet hall and lined up along the room in equal number so that you had half of them on the right wall and the other half on the left. Adorned in their feasting robes, the Davinians resembled rows of shimmering gems, like polished soldiers dressed to salute their highest-ranking general.

  Mastros Jeskun and Gehwen walked the rows of Davinians, making sure they were up to the highest standard. As Mastro Jeskun reached Luca and his pal Vehru, he gave them a warm smile, and to Vehru, his new partner-in-combat, he also handed him a friendly punch to the chest. Jeskun’s appearance was kingly, with a robe that spoke of mastery in combat, and on his left eye he wore a black and red patch outlined with small rubies. In the center of the patch was the Davinian crest of nine blades in the midst of a flaming sun. He walked past the boys to continue his inspection.

  In the middle of the hall was an enormous dining table stretching about fifty yards in length. It was enhanced by the most regal of cloths and dinnerware. The long benches on both sides of the table were enough for a few hundred men to sit and eat.

   “My dear souls,” Siel began with his hands stretched out. “Thank you for attending our annual banquet. I know some of you have traveled from far lands and from the many regions of Esterra, but I can assure you, it was all done for a worthwhile cause: to partake in the annual bountiful feast at the table of plenty.
r />    “Davinians, you all know that following the annual tournament we take time out to look back on the previous year to celebrate our accomplishments and reflect on our failures. It’s a great time for us to seek and learn from the past, and to foresee and prepare for the future. We must keep the light that we carry within us from diminishing. We must see to it that it transfers from the past year and into the next one without any saturation; it must be like it once was. It must be constant. That is why we keep our eyes on the past. Our past lights our future.

  “And now, brothers, we must refresh our inner lights with a feast. It’s time for merrymaking—and for our most important role as Davinians, that of servitude. We will feast on the feasting of others as we’ve always done since the beginning of the Order.” Siel looked to Mastro Gehwen, who stood next to the banquet hall doors, which had been closed after all of the Davinians had come in.

  “The Banquet of Blades has commenced. But before we bring in our guests, I would like to mention one more thing.” The crowd grew curious. “After an unexpected turn of events that have occurred in recent days, the school will be closed starting tomorrow.”

  There was talk and whispers within the majority of Davinians. Each one had their own suspicions.

  “I’m afraid we have drifted into perilous times,” Siel said. “Most of you have taken notice of the fog that has intruded into our land. This fog brings with it a darkness that must be apprehended immediately. For our safety and the safety of others, we will cease with school activities until further notice.”

  The many souls who stood before Siel were either speechless or vocal; they sensed that their world was about to be overturned.

  “I hope that we’ll be able to clear away this darkness without much effort so we can strengthen the rays of the sun, and we’ll be able to resume our curriculum once again. Please don’t ponder too much on the matter. Have faith that we’ll resolve it in a timely fashion. And now let us move on to better things. Mastro Gehwen? Would you please open the doors and let our friends in?”

  Gehwen opened the doors to the banquet hall, and as if the mastro had popped a cork from an overflowing bottle of ale, the guests rushed in. Who where these guests? They were the people of the land: the peasants, the farmers, the goat herders and the home caretakers, the merchants and the wanderers. All of them were from Bune, for you see, what was unique about the Banquet of Blades was the lottery held every year, a lottery that allowed for the people to come in and feast on the table of plenty; this was the sole purpose of the feast.

  The common people entered the hall, and just as one would react when setting foot inside a new and marvelous home, they rushed in and gawked at the transcendence of the place. Elation spread over their faces. Some were nervous, and some had the face of fear, for a grand hall such as the one they stepped in was nothing they could ever dream of, much less actually witness in person. As they came in, all of the Davinians stood along the walls and welcomed them with smiles and nods.

  Siel motioned for the guests to sit down. The people took their places on the table, starting from the front all the way to the back, all of them sitting and grinning, adults and children alike. The people of the land had their best garments on, at least what they could afford for such an occasion. Some only had what they wore on a daily basis, for they didn’t have the means to pamper themselves for such an event. No matter. The feast welcomed all, and they were to be served as kings.

  Siel snapped his fingers, and all of the Davinians turned and marched towards the end of the banquet hall. Each side had a door leading to the private kitchens behind the room. As fast as they went in, they came out. Each Davinian had something to share with the people, whether it was a large pitcher full of wine or ale, or a massive plate with food piled on top. The students hovered among the gargantuan table, setting food-filled plates down or pouring drink into the many cups waiting to be filled.

  Luca came out of the kitchen behind Pabru and Vehru. He carried a pitcher of wine while his two friends had platters of food to spread around.

  “Good luck with that,” Luca said as he parted from his friends.

  “Don’t get any wine on the guests,” Vehru said.

  Hours passed, and the people dined on the treasures that were brought out to them. Luca made his rounds, offering up wine for those who wished for it and stopping to talk and share a laugh with some of them.

  But not all were so welcoming to the outcast. A few people were frightened by his appearance, and others were downright fearful of him. One peasant went as far as even taunting him as he approached to offer up some wine.

  “Should I fill your cup, sir,” Luca said in a kind manner.

  The man just looked at Luca, dismissing him in such a manner that it bothered the jubahn down to the bone. “You know how silly you look with that thing on your face?” the man said. “Say, why do you have a drawing of a shooting star across your eyes anyway? What does that mean?”

  “More wine, sir?” Luca said with a smile.

  “I reckon you don’t have many friends, not with that thing on your face,” the man said. “And your clothes are dirtier than mine. Maybe I should be the one serving you, don’t you think?”

  Luca eyeballed the man and thought about pouring the wine all over his head, but he was a Davinian, and such a thought died instantly. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and instead showed kindness. Luca filled his cup and moved along to another.

  When he got a chance, Siel locked eyes with Luca, and he motioned for Luca to take off his mask, for he felt Luca’s discomfort. But Luca raised his hand, as if to say to Siel that it was okay; he did not need to remove his mask. He wanted no special considerations.

  After he had finished his rounds, Luca went and stood against the wall to wait until the guests required more drink. He stood in the midst of the other Davinians, who shined like polished gems in contrast to his muddy self. His dark, earthy colors broke the enchantment of the dynamism radiating from the other students’ robes. The only vibrancy bouncing off Luca was the silver gleam of his mask, which up until then had been scaring the majority of the people he had served. The other Davinians had subtly distanced themselves from him so as to not defile their bodies with his presence; he was like a shadow discarded to the side, for people were not keen in being reminded of their fallen nature.

  Music began to play for the entertainment of all, and most of the guests raised themselves up and started to dance. Children, parents, and lovers, all of them jumped up and danced in whatever spot they could find. Even some of the Davinians who were going about their rounds found some time to stop and enjoy the music by dancing with each other. Luca’s eyes scanned the dancing mob, and he was pleased for them.

  He ended up on a certain couple, and his eyes bloomed. He saw Lereh being twirled around by Prince Nefiru, and for a moment, it seemed as if Lereh had a small smile spreading across her face. And as she danced, her locks of hair spun around and softly slapped the tall prince’s face, to his delight. Luca turned his focus on their dancing legs, and he reached down to feel his own false limb. Luca’s eyes grew weary, and he bowed his head for a moment.

  Soon, Vehru and Pabru joined him.

  “They don’t stop eating!” Pabru said, resting his back against the wall.

  “It’s like they haven’t eaten for ages,” Vehru said as he placed himself next to Luca.

  “What did you expect?” Luca said. “It’s the same every year.”

  “I’m surprised I still have both my hands,” Pabru said.

  “The fact they were this hungry should tell you something,” Luca said, “that they were in need of a fullness that only a feast like this could give them. It’s a good thing that we do this.”

  “Yes, very good,” Vehru concurred.

  “I think I’m going to head back to the kitchen to refill my plate before I go back,” Pabru said. “You guys stay here and look after my people.”

  “Oh, what would they do without you?”
Vehru said.

  “Starve, apparently,” Pabru said as he walked away from them.

  Vehru turned to Luca, for he wanted to say something but couldn’t get the courage to muster up any words. But Luca made the effort instead.

  “I saw an Umbrador last night.”

  “What? Like a drawing?”

  “No, I saw one,” Luca said more adamantly, “an Umbrador—with my own eyes. I tell you this because you are my best friend.”

  “Then as your best friend I tell you that your eyes deceive you. Umbradors aren’t real. And even if they were, they’d blind you, since stars are incredibly bright.”

  “You can see them if they move about in armor.”

  “Armor? An Umbrador in armor? It sounds to me like you’ve been sipping out of your jug.”

  But before Luca had a chance to reply, he heard the call from the Alta for silence, and the boys stood in attention with their mouths shut.

  “People of the land,” Siel said, raising his arms. “We hope you’re enjoying your bountiful feast.” A roar came over the entire hall. “Good, good. We’re here to serve, and we’re glad your stomachs have been filled and your spirits renewed. But it’s not over. While you finish your plates, we would like to offer up some entertainment.”

  Siel motioned to the right and left of him, and when he did so, a number of Davinians came out ready to put on a show. They walked around to both sides of the plentiful table and started performing feats of talent. There were poets, singers, fire breathers, a juggler of swords and even a contortionist, who above everyone else had the children’s utmost attention.

  Vohro came out as one of the performers. His trick was the speed and precision in which he wielded his blades. He walked up near one of the group of peasants and started twirling his blades so fast that no one could actually see the blades but only hear them ringing in their ears. The crowd breathed in excitement, for to them it appeared as something of a miracle. All were amazed, except for one who thought of it as mere play.

  “That doesn’t seem so special; I know many people who can twirl a blade about without problem,” the man said. “Is there anything else you can show me so I can believe you to be special?”

  Normally, Vohro would not oblige such indulgent requests, but some things needed to be done for all to believe. He reached onto the man’s half-eaten plate and picked up a small bean, and without hesitation, he flicked it into the air, and with his eyes still on the man, his arm sprung up quickly, like he had a sudden nervous twitch, and all that was heard was a sharp slice in the air. The poor bean landed on the table, split in two pieces, with Vohro’s eyes still glued on the man’s face.

  The man took a look at the bean and exclaimed with passion, “He cut the bean in two without even looking!”

  He looked up to Vohro and saw that the mastro was holding up his hand, showing four fingers as if to say, Actually, I cut it into four. The man turned back to the table and saw that the bean truly was cut into four parts instead of two.

  “But this is impossible,” the man said.

  “But it was done,” Vohro said, withdrawing himself from the table and onto another group for more entertaining. The people were taken aback, and all were amazed.

  Luca and Vehru watched in awe as Vohro entertained the guests. Pabru returned with a full plate. “I’m back!” he said, trying to balance the heavy plate on his one arm.

   “We’re saved,” Luca said.

  “All is good with the banquet now,” Vehru added.

   “I bet you guys enjoy picking on me,” Pabru said.

  “There’s a sense of fun it, yes,” Vehru said with a smile.

  “Anyway, Luca, I feel there’s this odd tension between you and Lereh,” Pabru said as he took a piece of meat from his plate and chomped down on it.

  “Pardon?” Luca said.

  Pabru discreetly pointed with his dirty finger. Luca turned to where Pabru was pointing and saw that Lereh had her eyes on him.

  “I think she’s looking at Vehru,” Luca said.

  “No, no, she’s looking at you,” Pabru and Vehru said in unison. “So why don’t you go find out what she wants,” Pabru added.

  “Well, maybe I should go and find out,” Luca said with a newfound confidence.

  “Precisely,” Pabru said. “And good luck.”

  Luca bravely took his first step towards her, but was abruptly stopped by a sound coming from one of the peasants.

  “I need a fill!”

  “Your plans have been thwarted, my friend,” Vehru said. “Maybe next time.”

  “We’ll see,” Luca said as he rushed up to the table to pour more wine in the empty cups before him. For the most part, they were thankful for his service. He did not care; he did not do it to be praised.

  As he made his rounds down the table, he shot a glance at Lereh, who walked with her pitcher of ale towards him on the opposite side of the table. She was busy filling some of the empty mugs on the table, and as Luca stared at her, he began to fear that he was becoming too fond of the red-haired beauty. After all, she was a beautiful seventh-blade, and he was a disabled exile. Unexpectedly, Lereh turned her head towards Luca, and their eyes met, and instantly both sets of eyes darted off into another direction, as if to say “oops.”

  Luca felt awkward, so he tried to focus on something else, and he did, for his attention was caught by the Davinian choir on the second floor. The choir began singing, and it was nothing short of ethereal. The people of the land looked up above, rejoicing with elated eyes and wide-open mouths at the magnificent sound raining down on them. The children’s eyes were smitten with reverence, as if they saw so much more than the adults could ever see of the special choir.

  Alas, the song ended. Everyone in the hall took in a big breath and exhaled their worries away. But before the crowd was able to continue with their feasting, the Davinian choir did something unexpected. Immediately following their performance, the choirboys took off their robes of diamonds, pearls, and gold and threw them down towards the people; it was like a shower of treasure pouring down on them.

  The robes fell on the table and on some of the people. They were for the people of the land to keep. The guests rejoiced, and the Davinians applauded with approval. Never had the people of the land seen such beauty and riches in their lives, and it was all for them to have. Their spirits had been lifted and transfigured into something invaluable; truly they had been awarded many things that night.

  As the guests’ elated spirits drowned much of Luca’s inner senses, he could not shake off the feeling of an impending doom. It came from out of nowhere and stabbed him in the back like an assassin coming out of the darkness. It felt to him as if the sharp pain had come from the distant horizon, where the palace stood. Luca was troubled, and he broke off from the rest of the group as they cheered on the choir, making his way towards one of the big windows that showed the royal palace in the distance.

  Pabru and Vehru realized their friend had broken off from the crowd, and wondered why. Siel caught a glimpse of Luca’s retreat, and the Alta felt a sense of foreboding. Vohro started to cut through the crowd to reach Luca, for he too felt something odd.

  Luca reached the window and set his eyes on the darkness of the dusk, but he saw nothing but peace. Something was not right, so he kept his eyes on the palace, curious to why he felt so strange. And when his eyes had finally grown tired of straining to diffuse the darkness of shadow, it happened.

  The first BOOM rang out in the air, and a grand fireball exploded from the depths of the palace, shooting upward into the night’s sky and lighting up the surrounding areas.

  All in the banquet hall were terrified.

  ***