The Heirs of Death

23.2 The First King

THE FIRST KING

Leander, First King and Savior of Ardoria, was in the very heart of the temple on both his knees, staring vaguely at the five long flames swaying in front of him. The room was circular, falling in the midst of the place and flanked by both sides with many chambers and pools and candle rooms, a good amount of steps into this maze.

It was a memory.

He was younger here, staring past the glass walls at the starless sky. It was the night before the war. The calm before the storm.

And he was not alone.

Laydana was at his side, fully dressed in her armor just like him, her hair, a dark shade of green as though emerald and Nightbleed had been rendered to strings on her scalp, pulled in a tight ponytail. They knelt there, silent as they counted each ticking second before the moon bled. She wasn't his wife yet, both of them unmarked and unbounded—only a lover. And a deadly one, especially with a sword in her hands.

The silence remained and I stood there, observing Leander's back buried deep beneath the weight of his tough, scarred armor. And through that memory, Saél walked, the image misting and turning into a shimmering bit of swirling dust before readjusting. She couldn't see it and neither could Leon. But he still stood two steps in front of me, eyes fixed on where mines were. He knew there was something. He possibly could see the outline of the scene unfolding in front of me through my mind—the image as clear as I allowed him. Letting him see Leander, letting him this deep in my mind would unveil so many other things to him—things he shouldn't know about. Not now.

"It is approaching," the First King whispered, voice low, barely more than a drift of sound in the empty room. "The Red War is near. Apocalys is near."

Laydana's hand fell on her lover's shoulder, squeezing it gently, thumb rubbing light circles.

"Your men are ready. They believe in you,'' she said, voice as soft and feminine as her body and frame. It was hard to imagine from where all the strength poured under that tenderness; but she was powerful. As powerful as killing three hundred men on the first hour of war. "They believe in a better life.''

I walked around the room, sitting crossed-legged behind the flames, back leaning on the wall that was glass from the inside, rock from the outside. And on those walls, words were written in blood that was gold in both its shades: yellow and white. Those words were the vows made by each Armedes up to this day, going all the way from the first one the First King voiced barely an hour after this glimpse of the past, to the ones my father swore on his coronation day. The newest one was the one still glowing brighter than the others, the one he took the night of the ball.

"They will die on that battlefield.'' No hope, I noted. There was no hope in the eyes of the man who was about to free this world. "Apocalys is bringing down mountains and wrecking oceans with his sheer will.''