The Exiled Spirit.
1056 Words
Reluctantly Sanlysia said, ‘there was a boy with him. Young near about my age, red hair like blazing fire and eyes like…’
‘All right. That would be all. You can leave now, sweetheart.’ Pysenia stopped her.
‘But mother…,’ A glare from her mother silenced her.
Sanlysia bowed and muttered, ‘your majesty.’ And stormed out of the courtroom.
What’s the matter with everyone? Sanlysia brooded over, why is they are acting so weird?
She couldn’t decide whether she was dazzled or dubious about Rhineas. For some reason she couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he fought was unusual for a boy so low ranked, and the way how the dragon’s fire couldn’t burn him. She wanted to tell that to her mother but Pysenia didn’t intend to listen.
Sanlysia walked absently through the corridors of the palace wandering aimlessly from one side to another. She didn’t know where to head. Maybe talk to father?
But that didn’t seem like an appropriate decision right now, taking in consideration all the stress Edgard had in him right now. Outside of the palace the city rangers marched in a haste gathering the men. The commander of every brigade stood before their regiment, answering to the Lord general Elisiah.
Edgard burnt in his own extinguished flames. The agony and the misery that he had surrounded himself with.
He realized as the time turning and the prophecy fulfilling.
Is it too late to ask forgiveness? He dwelt into the solitudes of his chambers, expectant of a voice to answer his question. A voice from the lifeless walls or the whispers of the air. Anything?
The silence killed him day by day. Deep inside he sought the council of the divine flames. How did he become the worshipper of shadows? All he wanted to do was protect his wife and unborn child, was it a sin?
He stared deep into the crackling flames in one of the lanterns against the wall. Edgard rushed towards it.
‘Do you even listen to me?’ He cried.
‘Why are you doing this?’ He begged in the flames.
‘Haven’t I done everything you asked of me? All I did was just one mistake and you punish me so harshly is that how a father treats his son?’ Edgard yelled.
But the crackling is the only answer he had gotten. Reluctantly he gave up.
He stuck out his finger into the fire and the fire turned blue. Tainted.
Edgard sighed in distress and muttered, ‘I behold your cruelty lord Emone.’
The whisk of air from the window doused the blue fluttering flames into nothingness. The only response for Edgard’s plead was the silence of this solitude. His days had begun to number, his own blood would be the traitor of his legacy. Edgard couldn’t bear his temper and agony pulsing inside him. He stormed toward a big vase which was kept near his bed and shoved it against the floor. The vase shattered into fragments just like hi soul.
Edgard heard a whisper from the wall. He knew who is calling for him.
‘I did not summon you.’ He spoke staring far away from his window into the ocean.
The whisper erupted into a dense cloud of blue smoke submerging every corner of the chamber into its unrelenting darkness.
‘I not your slave.’ The raspy whisper said, ‘I come when I will. I go when I desire.’
‘What do you want?’ Edgard asked sternly.
‘You can’t kill the boy. Your puny soldiers can’t kill the boy.’ The whisper said.
Edgard scowled curtly. ‘What are you talking about?’ He glared.
‘The boy who stole your dragon…,’ the whisper paused and a misty figure crackled through the walls. ‘You want him, don’t you?’ The figure stared deep into Edgard’s eyes.
Edgard saw the eternal darkness staring back at him from the two-empty eye-sockets of the gnarly skull.
The darkness in those empty eyes enticed a merciless cruelty in Edgard, summoning the fear in his soul. Edgard tried to resist – something which he had never succeeded in all these years. He never eluded from that darkness, but now he had to. He can’t be deployed anymore through this hollow eyes.
‘What are you talking is foolish…,’ Edgard said breaking away from the hold of the dark eyes, ‘… you can’t ask me to do that to my own flesh and blood.’
The smoke hoisted up and the figure had become more rigid than a cloud. An arm extended from its body and clutched Edgard around his neck.
The darkness laughed and mocked Edgard, reminding him that he is just a stringed puppet. ‘You don’t call a god stupid.’
‘Zohua?’ Edgard prodded weakly.
Zohua tossed Edgard away. Edgard slumped down crashing against a wall and gasped for breaths hastily dabbing his with his hands.
‘Kneel.’ Zohua’s voice was a raspy whisper.
Reluctantly Edgard knelt. Shame burning in him, threatening to turn the depths of his body into ashes. That’s how it has been all these years. A dragon turned into a lamb. He thought pitifully. The unrelenting misery never seem to cease. The more he laboures the more excruciating it gets.
He'd had enough games, everything he did to survive had counted as vain efforts of the rabit trying to escape its prey. The time had come for the inevitable.
The time when the mighty son of fired bowed forth the exiled spirit. That is the end of the light and beginning of the reign of shadows.
Zohua chuckled sardonically, sucking the pleasure from Edgard's pathetic misery.
'Dear little brother, Emone...,' He bellowed in his raspy whisper, '... look at this witness this from the high heavens, and your golden palaces. I shall bury your kingdom down into the shadows and feed my children with the fear of your mortal men.'
- Writer
