The Legends of Kartas | Ongoing

54. REMINISCENT DESCENT: HOSEOK

Hand in hand, Hoseok walked with Astris.

He wasn't small by any means—his head reached Astris's waist—but his arm strained from being stretched upward for a long time. He was fully grown. It didn't matter what the servants and advisors thought. He was the prince, and what he said went. And he declared he was fully grown. An adult. A leader. A proper prince.

It didn't matter that he was only twelve.

The weather was ripe for an outing: the skies were clear, the sun warm, the wind gentle, and the air full of mirth. Palace children frolicked through the small pastures around the Caeli Isles, and devout Caists led choruses through religious hymns sung to the tune of the Gods. It was the feeling of peace that soothed Hoseok—the feeling of home and the comfort of his sister's hand laced in his.

Everything was fine. He couldn't understand how he had ever believed it wasn't.

There was serenity and joy—as bright and prominent as the smidgen of kaleidoscope sunbeams fractured behind the palace's pointed steeple. There was pride and hope—heightened by the twelve almighty towers standing like centurions at the ready. And there was Caelin, his six-year-old sister, skipping out of the palace archways on her two legs, her gray-tinted silken robes swaying like boneless arms in the wind. She was smiling, waving to catch Hoseok's attention. Then, suddenly, she was frowning, and frowning still. And Hoseok was shaking, trembling, sobbing. Stumbling towards her and falling to his knees, he embraced Caelin and held her close to his heart—so close he would never let go.

"What's wrong, Hoseok?" Caelin asked, a slight tremor in her voice. But Hoseok was too busy burying his tear-streaked cheek into her shoulder. He dug his fingers into her back to find purchase, to convince himself this was real. It was Caelin—all flesh, warmth, and bone. Alive and well and walking.

"What's wrong?" Astris asked from behind them. "Hoseok, are you unwell?"

No, he was well—too well. Everything was too good to be true. Everything was fine.

Until it wasn't.

"The young prince must be tired from his constant getaways," an aged, regal voice said in amusement. "The kitchen servants were in an uproar earlier today. It wouldn't be a surprise if he injured himself while escaping."

An old man in white robes towered above Hoseok, casting a shadow over him and Caelin. He had a sharp nose, sharp eyes, and a sharp jawline—everything about him was sharp despite his wrinkles, an unfriendly sharp. His squinted, brown eyes were cruel behind the faux geniality they displayed, and though his arms were open and welcoming, Hoseok's stomach churned at the idea of being near him. A shriveled hand reached for Hoseok to ruffle his hair, and he internally cringed as the fingers dug into his scalp.

He brushed the old man's hand away, not unkindly, and hid behind Astris. Moments later, Caelin followed his example.

Astris inclined her head in greeting. "High Caist Varyck, it is a pleasure to see you."

High Caist Varyck bowed in return. "The same, Princess Astris."

Hoseok was raised to never bow to his subjects, but something about the High Caist made him want to bow back. It was unsettling. He didn't want to think about it.

High Caist Varyck's smile looked more like a sinister grin. "It doesn't surprise me to see you enjoy such lovely weather."

Astris patted Hoseok's head. "I was actually trying to catch him. He could've injured himself running near the sky panels so recklessly."

"Lady Bouryn's anger does incite that response. Even if it were me, I would dart as fast as my two legs could take me." High Caist Varyck chuckled, shaking his legs either unconsciously or to make a point. All the same, every motion from the old man set Hoseok more on edge than he already was. When High Caist Varyck leaned towards Hoseok with quirked lips, Hoseok's grip on Astris's tunic tightened. "Does swiping the pastries please you, young prince?"