The Severaine

Chapter Nine Crystenia-3

The majesty of Crystenia and its land was a sight which could create awe in even the oldest of gods. It was not just the picturesque beauty, the magnificence of the castle, but what the land itself represented. This was a reality created by the collective consciousness of the Oneirois. Their entire world was built on perception, and if something was required the gathering of minds called it into being. This power could conjure almost anything. Materials had no definitive name in this world, although could appear as anything, both familiar and forgotten in time. Those who came here perceived every sight and sound as directed by the innate influence of the land. What looked and felt like stone was in fact nothing more than a trick of his senses as they stood in a world with no real physical form, yet a world always sculpted to appear material. It was a difficult place to understand completely, but one thing was a certainty, walls created to be unbreachable were just that.

Like most strongholds, Crystenia was now surrounded by such a wall, although this had not always been the case. The enormous barricade fully encircled the castle and its gardens keeping all those who sought shelter within safe from any harm. The lands outside were wanting for nothing, forest and plains, mountains and rivers, all had their place on this floating sentry. This land was ruled by a king; and he, whilst holding control of all other separate lands, had appointed others to rule their own fiefdoms. An act which freed himself from the trivial matters and allowed his focus to remain on the wellbeing of their goddess, and the land below which bore her name.

There was but one passage into Crystenia, a small, guarded gateway amidst the impenetrable wall. The land surrounding it was a grassy plain, allowing ample reaction to an unexpected approach, and the portal used to travel here could not be accessed by dreamers, save for those extended an invitation.

Night took a long slow breath, even now he expected the air at such altitudes to be thinner, but the cool fresh breeze here was no different to that found below. He walked slowly, with purpose, towards the archway. His vision fixed ahead, focused mainly on the wall, but sometimes shifting to the magnificent castle, home to all those on this land. By now they knew of his presence here. Their reaction would prove interesting.

The stone castle was far more magnificent than the one that stood in Albeth. The Oneirois of Crystenia all had homes within. Its space was infinite, if more came to stay, the castle would accommodate them effortlessly. But he had no time to behold its splendour, he could feel the life slowly diminishing from his daughter's spirit. Soon she would fade, all that she was would be lost, never again to be reborn.

Two Cynocephali stood eternal vigil over the lands, one either side of the arch, their canine mouths involuntarily tensing into a ferocious snarl. His scent had carried to them, bringing with it angst and displeasure. It mattered not that there was nothing to indicate hostile intentions, his presence alone saw their posture stiffen and caused a deep grumble of displeasure to stir in their throats. This man was nothing before them. He was a traitor, and those who committed such acts were deserving of only death. He had been granted unhindered access into Crystenia before, he had been trusted, a friend of their race. No more.

Night stilled his pace before them, their spears crossed before the gateway, sending a shimmer of energy to encapsulate all which lay behind them, further enhancing its defence as the two metal leaf-shaped tips moved past the central point of the archway. There was no gate; there was no need for one. Each Cynocephalus dug the bronze butt-spike on the spear's base into the earth just behind them, allowing them not only to stand before the barricade but to place their free hand upon the hilt of their sheathed weapon. The stance they had adopted ensured their dory could be easily wielded, but if they felt him a threat there was no certainty this would be their chosen weapon. Night had but once seen the extent of their fluid skill as they had trained, and the aura of this species ensured magic was unusable in their presence. These two were guardians for a reason, they were skilled, loyal, and in this world they possessed the power to kill even a God.

“Abasi, Fenyang.” Night regarded the two creatures in turn. Their dark eyes bore into him menacingly. “I have business inside these walls.” A long silence passed, and Night thought for but a moment they were intent on ignoring him. He was about to speak again when they spoke.

“Our people do not soon forget a friend turned traitor. Our walls will not welcome you again. Begone,” Their voices barked in unison, the tone a low throaty growl. As if the two brothers were one, each of their hands simultaneously twitched upon the hilts of their blades.

“Would you then forget your saviour?” Night glanced down to his daughter as if in emphasis of his statement. The two figures did not stray their gaze, their eyes remained focused burning into him with their hatred.

“Begone,” they barked again. Night had no time for their foolishness. Did they not realise each second he wasted trying to appease their injured pride could be the difference between life and death for his daughter? Since arriving here her essence had weakened considerably. How could they treat the one who saved them with such disregard? He could not pass without their blessing; well, he could, he knew untold secrets of the magic here, but he would not risk the consequences on the life he carried within his arms. Night gave an audible sigh, trying to exhale the building frustration.

“Very well.” He spoke through gritted teeth. If they wanted to make things difficult then he would have to ensure their cooperation. “Under your people's law I demand an audience with Seiken, son of Crystenia.” He saw their surprise; did they really believe he did not know the laws of their kind, or did they think the rule he had just invoked had been forgotten by all but them? Their laws were far simpler than the ever changing, self-serving laws of man. The King, or the heir apparent, could be called to the gate by any denied entry to plead their case. The anger in the growls coming from the guards was a clear indication of their displeasure, their increasingly irritable tones only served to reinforce this.

“He has been summoned.” Their gaze remained watchful, fixed on both Night and the surroundings. They did not trust him, or his motives. “But know this, traitor, whilst we live you will never see the inside of our walls again.”

* * *

Seiken had been lying on his bed, staring unseeing at the ceiling. This was the only place he was granted peace, the only place he could be true to himself. Here within these four walls he no longer wore the mask of a ruler or donned the robes of indifference he was forced to uphold in the presence of all around him.

They had all known of his infatuation with the human who had sacrificed herself so that they may live. But he was their prince, their heir, and they expected him to behave as such. They had no idea how deep his feelings for her had run, how much her loss had devastated him.

The Oneirois had few laws, but those discovered to have breached them were banished to the mortal realm, stripped of all memories of what they had once been. There was one rule which was paramount, and heir or not, if Seiken was identified to have broken it, if his love of the mortal was to be discovered, he would be expelled.

There had been times he had thought of confessing, the prospect of forgetting more appealing than suffering without her. But if the punishment could be enforced it would also mean forgetting her, and the bitter sweetness of his pain kept her memory alive. He would not allow her, or her deeds, to be forgotten, and so he had to continue acting as if she meant nothing, pretending her death held no meaning, caused no pain. But the pretence was slowly killing him.

Only his father and Rowmeow knew the extent of his feelings for the human, and thus they ensured he was allowed his solitude. Even so, they were still limited to how much isolation they could grant him.

Seiken gave a despairing sigh, his eyes burning as they bore a hole into the ceiling. His body felt heavy, as he lay there his mind was empty. There was no doubt if he had been allowed to, he would have remained there forever. With a despondent sigh he reluctantly pulled himself from the bed, it was almost time to attend to his duties.

Seiken had just finished tying back his hair when he felt the summons. Unsure what, or even who, to expect, he smartened his appearance a little. He smoothed down his black vest that showed the toned muscles of his arms, and tugged the bottom slightly ensuring it fell nicely over the black leather trousers which hugged him like a second skin, due to the leather ties that ran from the ankle to the waistline.

Seiken took a final look in the mirror, satisfied he looked presentable. He tended to favour his current attire, and it would only alter should the need arise. Oneirois clothes were special, they were not made from cloth or hide, but were in fact an extension of their being, one which adapted to the needs of the terrain they traversed instinctively. To keep a specific appearance took a degree of control, but it was one many Oneirois exerted.

The summons still flowed through his body and, as with most things, the longer a person is exposed to something the more details become apparent. At first he was in no hurry, but as the tension began to mount the quicker his pace became, until for a reason unknown to him he began to run. By the time the arch became visible he already knew who had beckoned him.

His eyes bore coldly into the distant archway. It was still too far to see the silhouette he knew stood on the other side. His pace slowed, his hands balled tightly into fists as he tried to control his breathing, drawing slow, steady breaths, unaware of the dampness that ran from his palms where his nails had pierced his flesh. His heart roared with a deafening beat, drowning out all sound.

He knew he had to calm himself, but he doubted his ability to do so. He stopped, turning to see the flurry of movements from those who had been paralysed by their prince's angry approach. He had to calm himself, or what would they think? He resumed at a steady pace. What would they think? Would they care if their heir settled a vendetta with the god who had captured and endangered not only their lives, but their world? This would be their assumption to his reaction, but it would be far from the truth. This god had given him no choice but to ensure the one person he loved died, as if by his own hand. Seiken had asked this of her, deceived her, and had chosen his people over her. His jaw clenched, fighting back the angry tears which threatened to reveal themselves. The figure became visible through the barrier. He could not show weakness, but Night had expertly exploited his only one.

In the arms of the being he wished to extinguish from existence lay the frail form of his love. A woman he had once protected. The primal urges became dislodged by something more powerful as his eyes fixed upon the brilliant shades of her brown hair and once more his advance halted. He wanted to close his eyes, to blink and see if the figure remained, but dared not in case she was but an illusion. His fists released, his breathing faltered. He knew it was her, it could be no other. Seiken approached the barrier, his own common-sense barely prevented him from stepping through.