Chapter 1: 1
Chapter Text
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“He’s doing well, considering where he comes from,” Kilubi commented, her gaze fixed on the training arena, where Cedric had just parried another hit of Rehu’s saber with the shaft of his double-bladed spear.
Orube did not respond, but kept following each of Cedric’s and Rehu’s moves without even blinking. She was used to observing people fighting in the arena, as she was in charge of the supervision and coordination of all trainings, from children to young warriors to the more experienced warriors who had to keep training to maintain their skills at their best. Usually, she managed to stay objective and analyze each of the contenders’ moves, even how they breathed, so she could give them her feedback. When Cedric was in the arena with Rehu, though, she found it hard to stay impartial and not praise him at least for the effort he was making. He was trying to learn their art of combat, erasing everything he’d learned in Metamoor from the Histean master when he was younger.
Especially because this meant learning to fight against Rehu, who could be very scary to those who did not know how good and caring he actually was. About the same age as Orube and Kilubi, Rehu was impressively tall and broad, talented in nearly all weapons known in Basiliade, with a square jaw, thick brown beard, and long brown curly hair that he always kept tied, revealing the undercut that most warriors had on the sides. Rehu, like Yarr, Endarno, and Himerish, looked more human than Orube and Kilubi, as he did not have pointed ears and his eyes were hazelnut with a round human-like iris. This did not make him look any less frightening, though.
“I mean, he even received the spear already,” Kilubi continued, chewing a bite from an apple. “I had to wait years before Yarr gave me my daggers.”
“I want a saber like Rehu’s! You already had your daggers when you were my age, I want my weapon too!” complained Shoshan, sitting on the ground beside her sister, Kilubi.
“Your Master decides when it’s time to give you your weapon of choice. You’ll get one when Acheri says you’re ready,” said Kilubi, sounding as if it was the hundredth time she was repeating the sentence to her young sister. Kilubi and Shoshan shared many traits with Orube and Acheri, such as the pointy ears and the pigmentation around the eyes, but theirs was of a warmer red, whereas Orube’s and Acheri’s was magenta. They both had amber eyes with slits as pupils, like Orube and her brother, and pitch black hair like them, which Kilubi kept shaved on one side and chin-length on the other, while Shoshan’s was cut in a very short bob.
Shoshan was still a teenager in Basiliadean years, but she was already strong and extremely talented in combat with and without weapons. In Basiliade, everyone considered to have the potential of becoming a Master was assigned to a Master, and had to train with him, in addition to training with all the others their age. Rehu had been trained by Raziya, Kilubi by Yarr, and Orube by Luba. Shoshan had been Acheri’s apprentice since she was a child. As Basiliadeans aged differently than humans and maturity was reached at about thirty Basiliadean years old, this meant that Shoshan had been Acheri’s apprentice already for sixteen years.
They kept sitting in silence, watching Cedric and Rehu hitting each other’s weapons in the arena.
One year had passed since the battle of the Citadel - a year that Orube considered among the happiest of her life, despite the long process of healing from what she had lived through during the battle. With Cedric’s and her community’s support, she had recovered. And she was indeed happy. She had not forgotten about the situation on Earth and Phobos’s threat, but she and Cedric knew that time was flowing at a different pace in the different worlds, and less time had passed in Metamoor. After all, there was no way Elyon would have let an entire year pass without calling Cedric back, be it to help against Phobos or to throw him into a dungeon. That was why they tried to enjoy their time on Basiliade as best as they could, cherishing every day they could spend together, away from that conflict.
Orube had taken up the responsibility of the training soon after the battle, but did not train everyone on her own. Nesahor and Khai, the twins who grew up training with Acheri, helped her with the coordination and training of the various groups. At the beginning, Cedric used to sit outside the arena, like Orube and her friends were doing now, watching her teach the others. Together with the apprentices, he also came to see her training sessions with the other Masters and the Grand Masters. He said it was fascinating to watch them, and that it was like watching an intricate choreography.
Until one day, as he was sitting with the others outside the arena, watching her and the other Masters, Grand Master Raziya had come to sit next to him, instead of training with the others.
Grand Master Raziya was the one Cedric was scared of the most among the senior warriors. And Orube could not blame him for being terrified by her. She reminded her of Master Luba, both in appearance and in her bearing. Like Luba, Raziya had very long pointed ears, and her feline-like features were extremely marked, such as her nose, her teeth, and her whiskers. Raziya’s skin was darker than Luba’s, a wonderful golden brown, against which her pale blue eyes looked even more piercing. She kept her remarkably blonde hair shaved on both sides and always in a tight braid that started from the beginning of her hairline.
Raziya knew very well how terrifying she was to Cedric, and that was why she’d gone to him and told him that Yarr may have grown weak during his permanence on Earth, and Acheri was too young for such things, but she would never accept someone trained by a Histean living under the same roof as the Masters and the Grand Masters.
And that was how Raziya had set him up to train with Rehu, her former apprentice, to replace everything he’d ever known about combat with a proper Basiliadean style.
Although Grand Master Raziya terrified Cedric, she was a caring Master and came regularly to observe how he was doing. And then, two weeks ago, something unbelievable had happened. Cedric and Orube were outside the arena, after Orube and Kilubi had finished a session with a group of young warriors, who were now freeing the space for Rehu and Cedric to start their own before sunset. That was when Raziya had come to them, carrying a double-bladed spear with her.
Everyone had frozen, seeing the Grand Master arrive with such a stern look on her face. Not that Raziya ever looked any less serious, but there was something particularly solemn on her face that day. Cedric had stiffened next to Orube, as Raziya had stopped in front of him and scanned him from head to toe with that hard look of hers. Then, without saying a word, she had rotated the spear and lifted it parallel to the ground in front of her, handing it to Cedric. He, however, had remained still, not knowing what to do.
“Take it,” Orube had whispered to him in English, the language they always still used with each other, although he was now fluent in Basiliadean. “With both hands.”
Cedric had done what she’d said, his eyes wide.
“Now say thanks and bring your right palm to your chest,” Orube had instructed him.
“Uh- thanks,” Cedric had said while doing as Orube had instructed, so confused he’d reacted in English. “I mean, netjer.”
Like all Basiliadean weapons, the double-bladed spear was mostly made of paakuh, a brass made from the ore that could only be found around Ozed, the volcano of Basiliade. The lava inside the volcano came from the inside of the planet and was a source of magic in Basiliade. The prestigious guild of Basiliadean blacksmiths worked the ore that surrounded the lava to obtain the paakuh, which made Basiliadean weapons resistant to magic attacks like energy beams and the like. Other parts of the weapons, such as the blades of Cedric’s spear, were made of copper, which was also obtained from the ore of Ozed. The blacksmiths also worked a lesser alloy of copper from the ore, which was used to make various metal objects and trinkets, including goblets, bowls, or jewels.
“So, when are you going to let him have his revenge against you?” asked Tihrak as he came to sit next to the three women. Tihrak was a warrior, a bit older than Orube, who had joined the ranks about six months ago. He came from the lands beyond the pyramids - the only other plot of land to be inhabited on the whole planet, other than the Citadel, its surroundings, and the land around Ozed where the blacksmiths lived.
“Right, I was actually rooting for him, but you went down really hard on him!” said Kilubi.
Two weeks ago, after Cedric had received his spear, Orube had decided it was time to challenge him and see how his training was going. Grand Master Raziya had been adamant that Orube should not be in charge of his training, as she believed she would be too soft with him. Orube was forced to accept the Grand Master’s decision, but she’d been deeply outraged by the lack of trust in her skills as a teacher.
“I did not go down that hard,” Orube lied. “I was holding back to let him win.”
Tihrak chuckled. “He left barely walking, with a broken rib and a dislocated shoulder! If you call that holding back…”
Orube shrugged, unable to hold a grin. “He can fix these things with magic, so no harm done.” She was extremely proud of how he’d kept up against her, although she had indeed gone down pretty hard.
And she was proud of how he had managed to integrate with their community and earn their trust, by putting his magic at Acheri’s disposal to help him build the new order.
Some were still skeptical about him and had twisted their mouth at his weapon choice, an unusual one for Basiliadean standards. Usually, natives chose some kind of sword rather than a polearm, like a straight double-edged sword, or a single-edged curved one, a saber, or a set of daggers. Single- and double-edged spears were odd choices, just like scythes and flails. They were used for training and as secondary weapons, but were never chosen as the main weapon of a warrior.
Orube found the spear to fit Cedric’s style and way of thinking, though. It was a flexible weapon that could surprise the enemy, especially when wielded by an ambidextrous person like him. It could be used to attack from both directions, with one or both hands. The right weapon for someone who could adapt to different situations, like a shapeshifter.
“It’s almost noon, we should go to help prepare for the celebrations!” said Shoshan.
Orube blinked, suddenly remembering that today was the day of the eclipse, a day she had been looking forward to for years. She hadn’t seen an eclipse and taken part in the celebrations since she was a child, and back then, the celebrations were festive but much more serious and ceremonial than what awaited them this time. Now, the walls of the Citadel did not exist anymore, and civilians could celebrate together with Masters and warriors, bringing their enthusiasm and joy for the eclipse with them. The eclipse happened every five years and represented the blessing of the Goddess Kanika, the Moon, to Ukani and Nechtu, the first warriors of Basiliade, later known as the Twin Suns.
She stood up with the others, but waited before following them towards the central square of the Citadel. She glanced again at the arena, where Cedric had been stepping back, blocking Rehu’s blows. Finally, he took advantage of Rehu preparing to charge again and spun, rotating the spear to gain more momentum, and then he crouched, hitting Rehu’s leg with the spear, rotating it to make it clash against the leg with the plate. Rehu lost his balance and fell, and Cedric was looming over him in the blink of an eye, pointing the spear at his neck.
Orube smiled, welcoming the wave of pride that filled her chest. Soon she’d challenge him again, she decided.
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Chapter 2: 2
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The eclipse of the Twin Suns was one of the most wonderful things Cedric had ever seen in his life. He felt extremely lucky to be on the planet when the event took place, and not only for the opportunity to witness the magical play of lights that the two stars generated in the black sky when they crossed the Basiliade moon, sending red, purple, and blue light streaks across the horizon. He also felt lucky for the chance he got to take part in the celebrations. Basiliade natives were not the kind of people one would expect to indulge in wild celebrations, sit around bonfires, and dance. Hell, most Basiliade natives he’d met in the past year didn’t even smile, let alone throw a party.
But not during the eclipse. The celebrations had started after noon, when Ukani, Nechtu, and Kanika were coming closer to each other, and people had started to gather in the Citadel - both warriors and civilians, now that no walls were separating the villages from the administrative center. In the blink of an eye, the Citadel was set up with long tables arranged with food and copper wineskins, and music had started to fill the air. Music. Something Cedric would have never expected to hear in Basiliade.
If the wonder of the eclipse and the unusually festive atmosphere were not enough to make that day one of the best Cedric had memory, even the sight of Orube would have made his day on its own. She’d been as excited as a little girl the whole week, as she hadn’t seen an eclipse since she was a child, and the light in her eyes that afternoon, while they were all looking at the sky, had warmed his heart even more than the spectacle in front of them.
He smiled as he sat on a bench, sipping some spiced wine from a copper goblet, watching two warriors switching places with another pair who had just finished a round of swordplay, surrounded by all the others who incited them and made bets on who would win this one. Orube was among them, and Cedric expected she would soon jump into the fray as well, taking her brother along with her.
Cedric was happy. It was the first time he felt he could say it. The Queen could summon him any time, but now, after more than one year of peace, he was hoping the mirror would remain silent forever. Knowing that things could change without warning, Cedric tried to cherish every single moment he could spend in Basiliade with Orube, in a community that had now somehow accepted him as one of theirs.
Orube and he had been living as a couple for more than a year now, and for being two people with such different cultural backgrounds, they were doing quite well. They rarely had any drama or arguments, which was surprising, considering how poisonous his tongue could be at times and how easily she could lose her temper. Perhaps they both had gone through too much to care about minor disagreements, or maybe the famous honeymoon phase everyone always talked about was not over for them yet.
He chuckled as he watched Orube shouting at one of the two warriors engaged in the swordplay in the middle of the circle, outraged by how sloppy his footwork was and how it was not what she’d taught him. Earlier that afternoon, he had not missed that glimpse of a smile on her face when he’d finally managed to catch Rehu off guard, and it had filled him with pride, knowing that she was watching.
Cedric glanced away from the group of warriors and looked around the central square of the Citadel, lit with fires and lanterns hanging around each building. The celebration had been going on for hours by now, but did not seem to be anywhere near the end. The Citadel was still crammed with people - warriors, Masters, and civilians alike - and there were now stands with more wine and food, people dancing in the streets, and children playing.
He spotted Chefren playing with other children a game of tossing copper disks on a pattern drawn with chalk on the ground. Chefren was sixteen years old in Basiliade years, but looked about ten by human standards, with tawny beige skin, dark eyes and hair, and round ears. He was Cedric’s apprentice. Of course, Cedric was not training anyone in the art of combat. He was training Chefren to wield magic - a task he’d been entrusted with by Acheri after the Grand Masters had discovered the whole truth about him.
Soon after the battle, Orube and he had decided the Grand Masters had to know who he really was. It was a risk, but it was better if they knew the truth upfront instead of finding out in some other way later. Besides, Yarr had known all along that Cedric had been exiled from Metamoor for some reason, and it was only a matter of time before he’d start to ask why.
So they had summoned the Grand Masters and told them the truth. Then, Orube and he had been sent out of the Council room to wait for the Grand Masters’ decision on whether he represented a threat or not.
The wait had been torture. It had not been the first time he’d waited for someone to decide on whether to cut off his head or let him go free - he’d been subject to the Oracle’s trial after all. But back then, in Kandrakar, he was convinced of being a victim, and whatever the outcome of the decision, he would have found it wrong and frustrating anyway. This time, he desperately wanted to stay, to help, to be part of the community. And most importantly, he wanted to be by Orube’s side.
As they were sitting outside the Council room, Orube had taken his hand in hers. “They will not do what you think. They will not execute someone sent by the Queen of another planet,” she had said.
“I know. But they can still decide that I’m a threat to them and send me somewhere else. Or send me back. They have no obligation towards Elyon to keep me here,” Cedric had said.
She’d brought the other hand to his cheek, making him turn to look at her. “Then I will come with you. I will follow you even if they send you to live with the Ozed blacksmiths. I don’t want to be anywhere else but where you are,” she’d said, echoing those words from that day, when he’d revealed himself to her.
And the Grand Masters had granted his wish. They’d let him stay, under the condition that nobody else should know about Phobos’s tyranny and Cedric’s role in it. They were not scared that people would loathe him - for Basiliade, Phobos was nobody, and a past tyranny on Metamoor had no relevance whatsoever in their life. The Grand Masters, however, wanted Cedric to earn people’s trust, to show he was trustworthy and loyal, regardless of what he’d done before. He had to show that he and the Metamoor Queen were valuable allies for Basiliade, who could help them become stronger, as they could complement the Basiliadean skills in combat and in wielding their particular weapons with the Metamoor expertise in using magic.
That was how Cedric had started to put even more effort into making himself useful to the community. And how Acheri had the idea of having him train the younglings who were found to be more sensitive to magic. At the time, Chefren was the only one who had been identified who showed some talent for magic, which was why he was also being trained to become the future Kyalvaas. With Cedric’s help, though, he was learning how to use magic in a more controlled way than the past Kyalvaas, so he could use it to heal people. As if Acheri and Cedric had a silent agreement, Cedric was only training Chefren to use magic for healing, without sharing the secrets that made him and other Metamoor natives among the most powerful magic users in many worlds. Basiliadean magic worked differently from Metamoor magic, anyway, so there was not much else Cedric could teach the child.
At the same time, Cedric was well aware that his training with Rehu did not encompass any of the secrets in the art of combat that only Basiliade warriors were allowed to master. It was clear to both of them that an alliance between Metamoor and Basiliade was looming on the horizon, and each planet had to keep its trade value as high as possible.
Cedric’s attention shifted back to where the warriors were challenging each other. As he’d predicted, Orube had decided it was her turn and had not missed this chance to challenge her brother Acheri, and was now getting ready for a round of sword sparring against him.
He also spotted Maut, their eldest sister, standing silently in the circle of people surrounding the two contenders, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her expression as stern as always. While Orube and Acheri could be recognized as siblings, if not twins, from miles away, it took a closer look to understand that Maut was related to them. She was indeed their sister only from the side of their mother, from her first Bond with a warrior who died in the war with Histea. Maut had pitch black hair like her siblings, always tied on the top of her head and going down her back in two long braids. But she had fairer skin, golden eyes with round pupils, and round ears, without any pigmentation around her eyes.
Maut had been kept prisoner for some weeks after the battle, as she had been part of the previous order, until Acheri had finally asked Cedric to enter her mind and try to understand if she was being sincere when saying that she would accept joining her brother. It had not been a pleasant experience, entering the mind of a defeated warrior who was convinced her honor had been compromised by the instinct of saving her sister from certain death. At the same time, though, it had warmed his heart to find the affection that she silently felt for her siblings, which had pushed her to act during the battle.
Cedric did not move from the bench and kept sipping his wine, but he silently placed his bet on Orube to win this round and send the young Grand Master’s ass to the ground.
In the corner of his eye, he saw Tihrak coming to sit next to him. Despite being a Basiliade native, Tihrak was a foreigner like him, somehow, as he came from the lands beyond the pyramids. Like many others, though, he had caramel brown skin, dark eyes, and long black hair kept in a braid. He was leaner and taller than many others, but muscular and well-trained like everyone else. They watched in silence as Orube and Acheri started to circle each other, each studying their adversary before attacking.
“Are you not participating in the show?” Cedric asked.
Tihrak chucked. “Nah, I prefer to watch. I bet the Grand Master is going to receive a hard lecture tonight.”
Cedric smiled. “I bet he’s going to receive a broken nose.”
“Rather, when are you going to join them?” asked Tihrak.
“Me? Are you nuts?” Cedric laughed.
“You’re not doing so bad. I think next time she challenges you, you may have a shot.”
Cedric rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t have a chance against Orube even if I used magic.”
They kept watching in silence for a while as the two siblings started to hit each other with their weapons.
“You know, it reminds me of the celebrations of the Full Moon in Meridian”, Tihrak said.
Cedric almost choked on his wine when he realized Tihrak had just spoken in Metamoor language.
He coughed, swallowing the sip of wine that had almost killed him. He turned towards Tihrak. Surely he had only imagined what he’d just heard.
“Sorry, did you say something?” Cedric asked him in Basiliade tongue.
Tihrak smirked, then spoke again in Metamoor language. “I did. I said this reminds me of the Full Moon celebration in our homeland.”
He locked gaze with Cedric, who was now gaping at him in astonishment. Then, a flash crossed Tihrak’s brown eyes, turning them bright yellow for one second - long enough to make Cedric flinch and understand.
Another shapeshifter. From Metamoor.
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Chapter Text
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Cedric felt as if the world around him had suddenly faded into blurred images and muffled sounds, leaving only him and Tihrak sitting on that bench, facing each other.
His mind traveled fast as he quickly scanned the names and known appearances of the other shapeshifters he knew. There were not many. He’d only encountered five of them, four of which lived scattered around Metamoor. Only one of them used to live at the border of Meridian’s territory. And happened to be known with a face with yellow eyes.
“…Morven?” Cedric asked tentatively.
The man with the appearance of a Basiliade native shrugged. “There are not that many of us, after all,” he answered. “Real shapeshifters, I mean. The nobles who think they’re good at shapeshifting just because they can conceal their green skin with a human one do not count.”
Cedric blinked, the words evading him. If the quick shift in Tihrak’s eye color and the Metamoor tongue weren’t enough to confirm that in front of him there was a Metamoor shapeshifter, this last remark only made it certain. Cedric, too, rolled his eyes every time someone claimed that everyone on Metamoor could shapeshift, only because some people could hide their appearance behind a human one.
The other shapeshifter stood up. “Shall we perhaps move somewhere more private? I’ve grown fond of these people, and I would not want anyone to hear Tihrak speaking in Metamoor tongue, if you don’t mind.”
Cedric followed Tihrak - or better, Morven - with his gaze as he stood up, still speechless. He glanced in the direction where Orube and the other warriors were. Orube was still busy teasing Acheri with her sword and did not look at him at all.
Cedric stood up and numbly followed Morven, his heart racing in his chest.
Tihrak… He was not a Basiliade warrior coming from the lands beyond the pyramids to join Acheri’s new order and put his skills at the Citadel’s disposal.
He’d been just a mask for Morven, the mercenary who lived at the periphery of Meridian, on the far west border of the capital with Brandis, when he was not around the planet for some paid mission.
Cedric followed him to one of the stands with the wineskins. At Morven’s reached out hand, he silently handed him his copper goblet without protesting.
“We have a long talk ahead of us, and this may be the last time that we can enjoy this amazing wine. I’m thinking about setting up a trade to import it to Metamoor, you know?” Morven said as he filled his and Cedric’s goblets with spiced wine. He handed him the goblet back, then nodded to follow him towards the periphery of the central square, towards the benches around the borders close to the streets that led to the square, where the density of people gradually dissolved away.
They walked in silence, looking for a place where they could sit and talk, away from anyone’s ears. Cedric’s mind raced as fast as his heart. Morven had joined the warriors six months ago under the disguise of Tihrak. He had never orbited around Cedric too much, but Cedric had seen him often helping around with construction works, talking to civilians, or watching the trainings. Morven must have discreetly kept an eye on him this whole time.
And it all made sense - of course, Elyon would send another shapeshifter to watch him undercover. Had she sent anyone else, Cedric would have certainly seen the glamour they’d use to conceal their looks. The only way to fool a shapeshifter was to hire another one.
“How much did Elyon pay you to spy on me?” Cedric asked as soon as they’d found an isolated bench.
“She did not pay me to spy on you,” Morven said. “Well, sure, she ordered me to take you down as soon as you made a false step, but I understood immediately that this would not be necessary. You’ve changed, Lord Cedric.”
Cedric shook his head. “Don’t call me that. And I have not changed. I’ve only found something better to do with my time,” he lied. To someone who had known him before, he had indeed changed in many ways. He had changed alliances and sought peace for himself, rather than revenge or an escape.
Morven shrugged, then took a sip of his wine. “As you say. Anyway, I was not sent here just to watch you smooching your woman. Good catch, by the way,” he commented, nudging his side with his elbow. “I was sent here to bring you back when the time would come. And now the time has come.”
Cedric’s head snapped at him. “I thought Elyon would use the mirror. Why did she have to send you? And what happened? Did they find him?”
“I have no idea or interest in why she had to send me instead of using your mirror. I did not ask. I’m a mercenary. I do not ask questions. All I know is what she ordered me to ask you when she contacted me earlier today: first, how much of your powers did you get back? I haven’t seen you shapeshifting, so I could not report anything about it.”
“I don’t shift in public unless there is a reason to do it. But I have control of them again. I can take any form from my imagination, enter minds, and use energy blasts.”
“Good,” Morven said. “It would be a shame if you could not use your talents again. Second: she told me to inform you that he is on Metamoor and more precisely, his army is besieging Idier.”
Cedric’s eyes widened. “He made it to Metamoor?! What about the crypt? Didn’t Elyon find his books?”
Morven shook his head. “After you were sent away, he was nowhere to be found on Earth. Elyon rushed back to Metamoor, only to find that the crypt was empty. They found the human he’d used as a vessel to cross the portal. Luckily, they erased his memory before sending him back to Earth, or he would have to live with nightmares for the rest of his life.”
Cedric’s jaw dropped. “Shit, he used a human…”
Morven let a bitter chuckle escape his lips. “And one you know well, as far as I was told. That Earth planet of yours must be a very small world, if he used your woman’s ex.”
Cedric startled. He stilled for some moments, processing this whole bunch of absurd information. “Gods, I hated Joshua, but he did not deserve having Phobos’s consciousness inside his head. Nobody does. I hope he did not leave any trace.” He shook his head, processing now the other information he’d received - that Phobos was aiming at Idier. He took a sip of his wine, frowning. “Why Idier? Phobos has never been interested in that city. It’s far away from Meridian, they live off the products of their land and the ocean without trading with anyone else, and their political influence is minimal. It was the only city he had left independent when he was on the throne.”
Morven sighed. He leaned on one hand behind him on the bench, looking at the starry sky as he took a sip of his wine. “How should I know? If there’s anything that interests me less than asking questions when I get hired, that’s politics. Anyway, the Queen needs you to get there as soon as possible. She’s spent a lot of her energy sending part of her army there, using her magic to accelerate their journey. It has weakened her, and now five hundred soldiers of her army, including the General, are in Idier. The situation must be solved as soon as possible, so the General can come back and the army is fully restored in Meridian.” He turned again towards Cedric, raising an eyebrow. “By the way, did you know that the Queen and the General are engaged?”
Cedric turned to look at him, surprised. “She chose a General? Interesting. Do you know his name? Is he from one of the noble families?” he asked, taking a sip of wine as well.
“He’s not a noble - it’s that guy who helped with the rebellion, that Caleb.”
The wine sprayed from Cedric’s mouth in a jet as Morven pronounced Caleb’s name.
“Wha- CALEB?!” Cedric asked, coughing up some of the wine that went down his throat sideways.
Morven patted on his back. “You really need to catch up on what’s new in Metamoor, my friend. The news is on everyone’s lips.”
“She’s marrying Caleb?! A Murmurer?” Cedric exclaimed, then lowered his voice, realizing that someone could have heard him. “And how does she plan to carry on the dynasty? That guy used to be a plant!”
Morven shrugged and made a gesture with his hands as if to apologize. “Again, I ask no questions. I suppose the Queen knows what she’s doing, and if not her, the Council will have thought this through, if they have not tried to stop the wedding and convince her to marry Lord Lathai of Grendal.”
Cedric rested his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his palms. “Oh Gods, I was just starting to accept that I’ll have to serve Elyon, and now you come here and tell me I’ll have to obey Caleb’s orders…”
Morven chuckled. “You will indeed. Look, I think you and your lady can enjoy the rest of the night, and we’ll all leave tomorrow early in the morning.”
Cedric sat straight again, frowning. There was something off in Phobos besieging Idier. He knew Elyon’s brother like the back of his hand, and he was certain that Phobos would never really take an interest and put his army on Idier, if not as a sort of decoy. “I’m not taking Orube with me,” he decided. “If Elyon wants me to go there, so be it. But we need a plan B, and Orube can be our backup plan. You have your way to travel between worlds, right? So we don’t need my mirror.”
Morven nodded. “Yes, I can take you with my amulet. My orders are to bring you with me. The Queen said nothing about who you should or should not take with you, so if you manage to convince Master Orube not to follow you and hunt the Prince down, that’s fine by me.”
Cedric took another sip of wine. “Yeah…” he muttered. “That’s going to be the tough part.”
“There you are!” A voice coming from their right, speaking in Basiliade tongue, made both Cedric and Morven turn. And there she was, Orube, as if summoned by them, talking about her.
Her sword back in the sheath behind her back, even in the dim light of that isolated corner, Cedric could see the trickle of blood that crossed her forehead and flowed to her chin, the split lip, and the dark bruise on her cheekbone.
Cedric jumped to his feet and hurried towards her, reaching for her face to check the damage. “What the hell did you two do? I thought it was just friendly sword sparring.”
“We got carried away.“ A devilish grin appeared on her face. “And you should see him, by the way.” She glanced behind Cedric, where Morven was still sitting on the bench. “What were you two doing out here?”
Cedric did not turn towards Morven, still studying Orube’s swollen face. “I will tell you later. Now let’s go to fix your nose and whatever else you got broken.”
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Notes:
Thank you for reading <3 Feel free to leave a comment if you are enjoying this story, it always makes my day!
Chapter 4: 4
Chapter Text
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“There’s no way I’m going to stay here, doing nothing while you go down there on your own!” Orube shouted as they entered the bathing rooms of the House of Masters. “If not Phobos, it’s going to be the entire population of Metamoor to try to cut your head off!”
She’d been yelling and hissing at Cedric the whole way up there, outraged by his proposal of letting him go alone with Morven, while she could stay in Basiliade and gather a few warriors who would come with her to Metamoor when he’d call her.
Cedric followed her in silence. He’d stopped trying to make her see reason, knowing that she needed to steam off first.
“And what if the stupid mirror doesn’t work? Or if Elyon refuses to give you one? How am I supposed to know if you have any way to contact me?” she continued, as she walked toward one of the sunken bathtubs of the giant stone room. She kneeled at the edge of the bathtub and turned the copper knob anchored to the stone floor, letting water flow into the bathtub from its wall as a cascade.
The bathing room was similar to the room with the thermal water, but there were more bathtubs, much smaller than the ones in the other room, all encased in the stone floor. Each bathtub was surrounded by curtains, offering a semblance of privacy. This room was decorated with strange plants as well, but the color of the stones was a dark blue instead of red. Despite being used to Earth, where appliances, electricity, and water supply systems were much more advanced than in Basiliade, Cedric was nevertheless impressed by how in Basiliade they managed to have an aqueduct system allowing for running fresh water in the building. In comparison, Metamoor nearly looked like a primitive planet.
Cedric approached the stone table near the bathtub, onto which fresh towels were neatly piled up next to a copper bowl and a jug. He filled the bowl with the water from the jug, then grabbed a washcloth from the pile and went back to Orube, carrying the bowl with him.
“How could you even think that I’d just stay here and sit back and wait, for fuck’s sake!” she growled, her pointed ears flattened, while she sat on the floor next to the bathtub, her legs crossed.
“You know, I think the blacksmiths living around the Ozed have not heard you well, maybe you should shout louder,” Cedric muttered as he sat on the floor in front of her, crossing his legs as well. He dipped the washcloth into the water in the bowl, then made to dab it on her forehead to clean up the mess of blood and dust from the brawl with her brother.
She snapped the cloth from his hand and dabbed it on her face. “I can do this myself,” she said through clenched teeth. “And nobody understands English except Yarr, around here.” Her words were muffled as she rubbed the washcloth on her face.
Orube soaked the towel in the water inside the bowl. “And Tihrak!” she exclaimed, squeezing the towel - or rather strangling it - to remove the excess water. “He was some guy from Metamoor this whole time! How did he learn our ways? And how did he manage to hide the Metamoor stench?!”
Cedric frowned. “Hey! May I remind you, I come from Metamoor as well?”
Orube dabbed the towel around her neck, removing some dry blood from a couple of scratches. “I like your scent, but the other Metamoor natives…” She twisted her mouth in a disgusted grimace. “Elyon and Cassandra stink.”
Cedric sketched a smile. Finally, Orube was calming down, and perhaps he could now convince her that he should go alone. He leaned toward her, resting his hands on her legs. “Look… I understand you want to be there and help. But I believe Elyon is falling into a trap, and I need you to be our safety net for when things go downhill. And when things eventually go downhill, we’ll have better chances if we have the element of surprise. If you come with me now, armed to the teeth and with other warriors with you, Phobos will have the time to think about what to do against you.”
Orube dumped the towel on the stone floor. “But what if something happens to you there? I want to fight at your side and kick Phobos’s royal ass. For what he did to you. And for what he did to Joshua.”
“You will, but just not now. And what should happen to me? It’s my world, my home - I know every corner of that land. And I have my powers back.”
Orube fell silent, her amber eyes fixed on him for some moments. She sighed then, looking somewhere else. “Fine. I’ll do as you say. How many people can travel with me through the mirror?”
Cedric’s eyes softened at her. He was thankful that she trusted him enough to follow his plan instead of insisting. “I used to travel with Vathek through the mirror, sometimes bringing two soldiers with us. Considering Vathek’s size and the fact that Galahots are quite resistant to the Escanors’ magic, I’d say he counts at least as two, so I believe you can bring four warriors with you.”
Orube nodded, a thoughtful expression painted on her face. “I’ll think about who could accept coming with me,” she said, then started unbuttoning her tunic. They both remained in silence for a while, and she had already tossed the tunic on the floor and was removing her breeches when she spoke again. “How much faster do you think time flows here? I mean… will I have to wait for months before seeing you again?”
Cedric blinked. He had not thought about how much time would pass for Orube before he would tell her to join him. “I… I actually don’t know. I understand that after we’ve been sent here, they have been looking for Phobos on Earth, then once they realized he was in Metamoor, Elyon started hunting him down there. I suppose Phobos stayed hidden for a while before attacking Idier, since he had to pull out the army from the book and rebuild his body. Perhaps it has been a few months, or even half a year, in Metamoor, while here it has been more than a year.”
“Hm,” she mumbled as she finished undressing. Cedric followed her with his gaze as she dived into the water. She immersed her head into the water and, with one underwater stroke, she reached the opposite side of the bathtub. When she resurfaced, she turned towards him, her back resting against the wall of the bathtub, leaving nothing hidden from his sight.
Cedric stilled, content with sitting on the stone floor and admiring her. He felt a pang in his chest, suddenly acknowledging that he had no idea how long they would be far away from each other, starting from the next morning.
Orube raised her eyebrows. “So? Are you joining or not?”
Cedric only smiled at her. “I’m actually quite happy with the view from here. Besides, what if someone comes in?”
Orube smirked. “Don’t lie to me, I can see from here what’s going on in your pants. Everyone’s still outside celebrating; if anyone is coming here, it’s only to do the same things we’re about to do.”
Cedric chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine then, if you insist…” and started unbuttoning his shirt.
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A knock on the door woke Cedric up from a too-short night of sleep. His eyelids were so heavy that it felt like they were glued together.
Another knock, this time louder.
He felt Orube moving next to him and leaving his side, the weight on the bed shifting as she stood up. He heard the rustle of clothes, and with an effort, he managed to open his eyes. He sat up on the bed, blinking at the dawn light that leaked through the window.
Orube opened the door. “What?” she blurted to whoever stood at the door.
“Your brother told me to call you.” Cedric recognized Shoshan’s voice.
“My brother? At dawn? He must really crave revenge for yesterday, if he’s already awake,” said Orube.
“No,” said Shoshan. “You have… a visitor. You two, I mean. A foreigner, I think from Metamoor. I mean, he’s green with yellow eyes and stinks, and he asked for Cedric.”
Cedric froze, putting the information pieces together. Orube glanced at him over her shoulder, and they exchanged a look. So that was how Morven planned to keep Tihrak’s identity safe - by appearing as himself and pretending to be an ambassador from Metamoor who had just arrived on the planet, leaving his alter ego Tihrak out of the game.
After Shoshan left, they got dressed, and Cedric told Orube the sentence in Metamoor language she had to recite if she wanted to wake up the mirror. She repeated it several times - her Metamoor pronunciation was not the best, but she seemed to have understood the sound of the words well enough.
He glanced around the room, considering whether there was anything he should bring with him. His gaze lingered on his spear, hanging on the wall next to Orube’s weapons. The spear could have been useful in Metamoor, as it could deflect magic beams. It was going to be a burden, though, as he was going to move concealed with a different appearance most of the time, unless he wanted people to throw stones at him. A Basiliadean spear on his back was not going to help avoid attracting attention.
Before Orube could open the door of their room, he held her by the arm. He suddenly had a sort of déjà-vu, his movement reminding him of that day more than a year ago, when they were about to walk against the sunset and towards his encounter with Lunja.
He took her face between his hands. “Mjë Shariàn…” he said, the Metamoor words for ‘my sun’. “I love you, never forget it.”
Her eyes softened for him. “I love you, too,” she said. “But don’t make me wait too long, you know I’m not that patient.” Then she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his.
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The meeting with the Grand Masters did not last long. They expected Cedric to be summoned by the Queen any time, therefore, they were not taken too much by surprise by the arrival of Elyon’s ambassador. Morven had indeed shown up in his standard looks, the appearance he made everyone believe was his true one, with emerald green skin and lighter patches scattered here and there, bright yellow eyes, and long dark green dreadlocks. He even wore a blue Metamoor robe to make himself more credible as the Queen’s ambassador.
Cedric just had the time to quickly say goodbye to Chefren, who was instead taken aback by the sudden departure of his teacher. Cedric promised him he would be back soon and told him to keep practicing on fixing Grand Master Acheri’s nose every time he’d get into a brawl with his sister.
Then, he left the Citadel with Morven, leaving Orube standing close to the stone archway that once was closed with a gate, and now only served as an indication of where the old Citadel started and ended. They headed towards the closest oasis, looking for an isolated place where they could activate Morven’s amulet.
Morven stopped a few steps from the little lake and took his amulet, a simple green stone, from the pocket of his robe. He hesitated, looking at Cedric with an eyebrow raised.
“May I ask you something?” he said.
“Go ahead,” said Cedric.
“How much do you trust her?” Morven asked.
Cedric frowned, studying him. Had anyone else asked that question, he would have taken it for what it literally meant. Coming from the mouth of another shapeshifter, it had a different meaning. Morven wanted to know if Orube knew. If she had seen him.
“You know that it is very impolite to ask such a thing of another one of our kind, right?” Cedric answered.
Morven chuckled, that mischievous grin Cedric had always associated with him appearing on his face. “Of course I know, but I’m curious.”
“I thought you didn't ask questions.”
“I don’t ask questions to my employers. As far as I’m aware, you’re not giving me any money, so I ask questions. If you want me to shut up, you can always start paying me. Anyway, forget it - it was worth a try. Let’s go home.”
Cedric could not suppress a smile. That guy was exactly how he remembered him. He watched him as he extended his arm in front of him, holding the amulet in his palm, while he took Cedric’s arm with the other hand.
Cedric looked in front of him at the amulet as well, but he spoke before Morven could go ahead and recite the spell. “I trust her that much, Morven.”
He did not turn to look at him, but could almost hear him grinning. Then, Morven recited the spell to wake up the amulet, and they were swallowed by a blinding white light.
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Chapter Text
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“Do you think he did not convince him to come?” asked Hay Lin, impatiently looking around in the forest.
Will shrugged. “I highly doubt that. It’s difficult to estimate the timing between worlds, and we have not been waiting that long. They’re probably on their way.”
Hay Lin sighed and sat again on the tree trunk. “This is so boring.”
Will fidgeted with a dry leaf, making it turn around its petiole. “Yeah. I want to go home. I have to sit an exam in two weeks. At least, I think it is in two weeks. I don’t even know what day they have on Earth anymore!”
Hay Lin stilled for a while, thoughtful. “May I confess something to you, Will?” she asked after a few minutes.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Hay Lin’s gaze lowered to her feet on the ground. “I… I’m not sure I want to keep doing this.”
Will stopped playing with the leaf and looked up at her friend. “You mean being a Guardian?”
Hay Lin nodded, without lifting her gaze. “Yes. I mean, I don’t think we can do this forever. You and Cornelia went through hell last year when you had to sit your exams at college and at the same time travel between worlds for our missions. Now you have an exam in two weeks, and you don’t even know if two weeks have already passed in Heatherfield. I don’t know how you and Cornelia made it so far, but Taranee, Irma, and I are having trouble keeping up.”
Will’s eyes softened at her. She completely understood what she meant, and it was something she had been mulling over many times. She also had discussed it already with Cornelia some months ago and had come to the same conclusion as Hay Lin. They could not keep living two parallel lives, not now that they were entering adulthood and their responsibilities and commitments would only grow as time passed.
“I’m not going to college like you all,” Hay Lin continued, “but if I win that scholarship, I will have to move to High Spring to attend design school. And Irma and Taranee have both chosen a study path that will not allow them much flexibility. I’m not sure how you are keeping up with this; it’s not like engineering is any less demanding than biology and law school.”
Will nodded. “It’s hard, yes. Cornelia and I see it the same way, trust me. I think we should discuss this as soon as this mission is over…” She glanced around, like Hay Lin had done moments ago. “…which is never going to happen, if Morven does not appear any time soon.”
They sat in silence for another while, Will fidgeting again with that leaf, Hay Lin lifting a few leaves in the air and making them dance around each other.
“What do you think about Elyon?” Hay Lin asked, without looking away from the choreography of leaves she was creating mid-air.
Will leaned on her palms against the trunk she was sitting on, also looking at the dancing leaves. “She’s extremely weak. I know she claims it is because of the effort in dislocating the soldiers, but I’m not convinced. Miriadel also thinks that there is something else draining her energies, but Elyon won’t talk.”
“Yes, I believe she’s lying. And remember what Caleb said before dislocating with his soldiers? She is having nightmares and talks in her sleep, which has never happened before, as far as he says.”
Will shook her head. “There is something she’s not telling us, not even to Cornelia. And Cornelia and Taranee are also growing weaker, with all the magic they’re using to make her feel better and avoid her freezing to death.”
“I’ll admit I’m curious to hear what Cedric thinks about this,” Hay Lin said. “After all, he knows Phobos better than anyone else around here. He might have a better idea as to what his plans are.”
Will opened her mouth to share her agreement, but had to close it again as a rustle of leaves coming from their right caught their attention. Hay Lin let the leaves fall on the ground, and they both stood up.
“It was about time!” Will said as she recognized Morven approaching, followed by Cedric. Her eyes widened at the sight of her former enemy, dressed so differently than how she was used to seeing him. He was wearing a beige tunic and a leather vest closed at the center with laces, dark brown pants, and knee-high boots, his hair half down, half tied into a braid.
“Where’s Orube?” asked Hay Lin.
“She’s not coming,” Cedric said dryly, then looked around. “Why did we meet here and not at the palace?”
Will and Hay Lin exchanged a look. Before they could answer, Cedric went on. “Whatever, I guess we should get going.” And then, a sort of wave of scales closing onto each other started to scan his body from the top of his head, leaving a different appearance where the scales passed. In the blink of an eye, Cedric looked like an average Meridian citizen, with dark green skin freckled with lighter patches, purple eyes, and pointy ears. Will blinked. She knew he had been ordered to work on unlocking his powers, but she was still taken aback at the sight of him being able to shift again.
Morven chuckled next to him and said something in Metamoor language. Cedric’s head snapped at him, frowning, then turned again towards Will and Hay Lin. “Is that true? Elyon wants me to cross Meridian looking like myself?”
Will fidgeted with her hair, almost - but not quite - feeling sorry for him. “Yes… I think she wants people to believe she’s making progress in hunting Phobos down… by making them believe she found you and took you prisoner.”
Cedric’s jaw dropped. “But that’s bullshit!” He exchanged another look with Morven. “She only wants to see people throw stones at me before I set foot in the palace.”
Will sighed. “Look, Elyon is not doing well, and I think she has not thought this through. But if this is the Queen’s will, you, above everyone, have to accept it. There are not many people around anyway, since everyone is scared by Phobos’s presence on the planet and is staying inside as much as possible. We can walk in the forest for as long as we can on the way back.”
Cedric clenched his fists at his sides, but then the wave of scales appeared again, scanning his body starting from his feet this time, and in an instant, he regained his human appearance of a few seconds ago. He extended his arms in front of him, towards Will and Hay Lin. “So, do I also get handcuffs?”
“Indeed, you do,” said Hay Lin, pulling out the blue rope from the sachet Miriadel had given them. She lifted the blue rope in the air and pushed it towards Cedric’s hands, and the rope tied around his wrists. Cedric distorted his mouth in a grimace, while Morven seemed to be making an effort not to look too amused.
Morven said something to Cedric in their language, to which Cedric nodded and responded in the same language. Then, Morven turned towards Will and Hay Lin, bowing his head. “Farewell, Guardians,” he said in his accented English. “It has been a pleasure, I hope our paths will cross again.”
“Thank you for your services, Morven,” said Will. Morven nodded, then turned on his heels and walked back the direction he’d come from earlier.
The three of them went in the opposite direction. Cedric briefly told them about the events in Basiliade. They learned that in the meantime, more than a year had passed, and Orube’s brother had established a new order of which he was the leader. Will was deeply touched by the story of how Cedric unlocked his powers again, in a desperate effort to save Orube’s life after the battle of the Citadel.
Will and Hay Lin, in turn, told him what they knew about Phobos’s whereabouts and their concerns about Elyon’s health. Cedric frowned and was thoughtful for a while, but did not seem to have a suggestion as to what could be really happening to the Queen, at least not until he’d see her with his own eyes.
“What about Kandrakar?” he asked, as they were approaching the end of the forest. “Are they doing anything?”
Will shrugged. “With Phobos’s books gone, they took over the task of finding out whether he enchanted any other objects to revive him again, like he did with the sands of time and Ludmoore’s book, and how to neutralize them. But we haven’t heard from them about this since you were sent to Basiliade.”
“Hm,” said Cedric. “So they’re doing nothing. I’m not surprised by that.”
When they reached the limit of the forest, Will and Hay Lin went to stand on either side next to Cedric, pretending to guard him. “Now,” said Hay Lin, “you’ll have to pretend to be annoyed that we took you prisoner.”
Cedric snorted. “I am annoyed, girl. Now let’s see if I get to the palace all in one piece.”
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Notes:
Thank you for staying with this story and for leaving kudos! <3
Chapter 6: 6
Chapter Text
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The Guardians had not exaggerated. Elyon looked like she was seriously ill.
When he entered the throne room, still escorted by Will and Hay Lin, but now also followed by Irma, who had done nothing but comment on his outfit, Cedric swallowed at the sight of the Queen slumped on the throne on the top of the dais. He was ready to see the palace again and to see Elyon sitting on that throne, but he was not prepared to see only a shell of the Queen instead of the lively young woman she was.
She was pale, her gray eyes dull and surrounded by dark circles, and her forehead below the Crown of Light was beaded with sweat, as if she were having a fever. Cornelia and Taranee were standing at her sides, each with a hand resting on the Queen’s arm. Galgheita and Miriadel were also in the room, standing a few feet from the throne. He lowered his gaze to the green marble floor, trying to avoid staring at the Queen.
The walk from the forest to the palace had not been as traumatic as Cedric had expected. They had only encountered a few people on their way, most of whom ignored them completely, some others distractedly glancing at them and then flinching as they recognized him. Nobody had thrown stones at him, though. The major shock hit him as soon as he crossed the doorway of the throne room.
As they arrived at the bottom of the steps of the dais, the rope that tied Cedric’s wrist unraveled and fell on the floor. Cedric knelt without looking up at the dais.
“My Queen,” he said, without raising his gaze.
“You’re here,” Elyon said, her voice weak and low.
“Of course I am,” Cedric said, trying to sound as if he really wanted to be there. “Tell me what you need me to do, Your Highness.” He still did not look up at the Queen.
He heard Elyon sigh, and he saw her move in the periphery of his sight, pushing on her palms against the throne arms to stand. Cornelia and Taranee took her by the arms to help her.
“I… I need you to go to Idier,” the Queen said, moving a few steps towards him. “I sent Caleb with part of my army, but I fear that civilians will be hurt. I don’t want that. I need you to go there and solve this siege by controlling the Annihilators. Stand up.”
As she unsteadily started descending the steps of the dais, Cedric finally lifted his gaze towards her and stood up. Now that she was coming closer, he could see how her eyes had lost that light that made them so different from her brother’s eyes, which were of the same light gray but as cold as ice. Now Elyon’s eyes were as if clouded by a veil that made them look as if she could not focus well on who or what was in front of her.
“My Queen, if I may…” he said. “I don’t believe Phobos has any interest in Idier. He never had. This must be a decoy, and I doubt he sent his whole army to Idier. And for sure, he is not there with them. Call your army back - you need it at its full to defend Meridian, and you need Caleb here.”
Elyon closed her eyes for a second, inhaling deeply. “I have kept enough soldiers here. It may be as you say, but I cannot abandon my people. They are under attack, and I had to send my protection.”
“But then, ask for help from other cities. Send Brandis’s or Hoel’s army, they are closer to Idier. Or call Grendal’s soldiers to defend Meridian. You cannot stay here alone, Your Highness,” he insisted.
Elyon pressed her lips in a thin line. She gave him a grave look, as if considering what to tell him and what to keep for herself. She glanced at Miriadel at her side, who nodded. “I cannot count on the other cities, Cedric,” Elyon said. “They formally recognize me as their Queen, but do not consider themselves as part of one realm, and do not see why they should be involved in what is happening in Idier. They have been left on their own for too long and have grown distant from each other.”
Cedric frowned. He had not considered that the Metamoor towers could have grown used to their independence after Phobos’s fall and may have been hesitant in putting their armies under another Escanor’s command. His gaze snapped at her again. “What about Brandis? Who’s in charge of the city now?”
Elyon frowned, as if she had been hit by a sudden headache. “I don’t… Ilyn, Kendrel’s cousin. But Kendrel is not here, not yet.”
Cedric suppressed the urge to grab the Queen by her shoulders and shake her. “Then send for her. Maybe she can at least get Brandis on our side. You need protection, Your Highness, and you need your cities to be united, or Phobos will take advantage of it.”
“That’s enough,” Miriadel’s voice made him turn towards her. “We understood your point, Cedric. The Queen needs to rest. And you need to go to Idier.”
Cornelia, Taranee, and Galgheita escorted Elyon away from him, heading towards the exit of the throne room. Will, Hay Lin, and Irma followed them, while Miriadel walked towards him, her gaze piercing. She had not changed since the last time Cedric had seen her - her skin green with lighter patches like that of many natives, dark eyes, and shoulder-length dark green thin braids. Unfortunately, their last face-to-face encounter had not been under the best circumstances. It had been on the day he’d arrested her and her husband, Alborn - his former mentor and Commander of the Champions. Cedric had done far worse than just imprisoning two people, but locking the cell of the man who had raised him was by far one of his worst remorses.
“She is not in a condition to dislocate you, as you can see,” Miriadel whispered. “But as you are traveling alone, it will take you much less time than it would have taken the army to reach Idier. Go to the stables and ask Vathek for a fast horse, then go.”
Cedric startled. Vathek. For a second, he forgot about the journey, about Phobos’s plan, about having to ride for days - something he was not used to anymore. He’d have to speak to Vathek, after all this time, after how things had ended with him. His stomach clenched at the thought of speaking to his old friend again. He wanted nothing more than to make peace with him, but he was not sure he’d want to see the hatred he expected to find in his eyes as soon as he’d show up at the stables.
“Are you listening to me?” Miriadel’s voice brought him back to the present.
“What is happening to the Queen?” Cedric asked as the door closed behind the group escorting Elyon.
“You have no idea how much energy it took to send the army to Idier,” said Miriadel. “She had to do it, or it would have taken more than a week for them to reach the city.”
Cedric frowned. “But there must be something else. I cannot believe that dislocating five hundred people has reduced the Light of Meridian in such a state.”
Miriadel brought her hands to her hips. “Then you tell me, Cedric. Don’t think I’m happy to see the girl I raised as my daughter in this condition. She’s getting weaker day after day, and the healers don’t know what else to do.”
“It must be Phobos, that's the only explanation. He has found some way to drain her energy so he can overtake her, and she won’t be able to-” He hesitated. “...to control him when they are face to face. Does she even know that she can do that? She didn’t know that I was bound. Does she know that this bond is for life, for everyone who was ever blessed by the Queen Mother?”
Miriadel nodded. “She knows. After she came back from Earth and told me she’d learned about your bond, I had to tell her about Phobos as well. She did not take it too well, learning that the Queen had cast such a spell on her own son, even though he turned out to be what he is.”
“She really has a good heart, if she still manages to feel pity for him,” Cedric murmured.
“And for you,” Miriadel spat. “Don’t forget that she saved your life and let you hide in your love nest for a long time, while she could have just put you in chains. And just to be clear, I did not approve any of this. Nor did Caleb. There’s a dungeon cell with your name on it, and I look forward to seeing you there.”
Cedric lowered his gaze. “I understand, Captain.”
“I’m not the Captain anymore - I’m the First Advisor now. I’m just supporting our Queen and trying to make her see reason when she makes wrong decisions, like not locking you up.”
“What about Alborn? Are there… Champions?” asked Cedric.
“He has retired from the Court. After what happened with Phobos, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with any of this, let alone training new Champions. And I don’t blame him, considering that of all the Champions he trained, you’re disappointingly the only one left. And where’s that Basiliade warrior everyone was talking about?”
“She will come with reinforcements when it is the right time.” He finally looked up at her again, trying to look confident, although Miriadel’s hard gaze made him uncomfortable. “You know as much as I do that Phobos is not in Idier and that when he reveals his real plan and shows up at Meridian’s gates, it will be too late. Orube can help us to take him by surprise. Their weapons are resistant to magic, and a couple of Basiliade warriors wielding them can do as much damage as an entire platoon of ours. But I’ll need a mirror to communicate with her.”
Miriadel cocked her head, studying him. “Fair enough. At least you’re not stupid. I’ll get you the mirror. Now go and get that horse, then come back here and we’ll give you the mirror and some money for the journey. I also expect you to report back on the situation in the cities between here and Idier.”
Cedric bowed quickly, then turned on his heels and walked away with a heavy weight in his chest.
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Chapter 7: 7
Chapter Text
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Elyon clenched the silver goblet in her hand, without looking away from the blue flames crackling in the fireplace. She was tired, but at least the blue padded armchair was comfortable.
She glanced at the other identical armchair at her right, beyond a crystal coffee table, also facing the fireplace, but still empty.
She could not stop thinking about Cedric’s words. He was convinced that everything was a decoy and that Phobos was only trying to attract her energies to the other side of their lands. It made sense, but she was telling the truth when she told him she could not abandon her people. Not now, when it was of utmost importance for her to show the other towers that she cared for her people, so much that she was willing to expose her city to run in aid of another one.
On one thing, Cedric was probably right, and she called herself a fool for not having thought about it earlier - she had to fetch Kendrel Naeyre and use her to ensure the support from her cousin. Brandis was not the largest city in the inhabited part of Metamoor, but it was bigger and stronger than Idier and Hoel, being second only to Grendal. And given the rivalry between Brandis and Grendal, if one of the two decided to support the Queen, the other one would probably do the same, not to look any less worthy.
She’d send the girls, she decided. They were all eager to go back home, anyway - sending them to Heatherfield, even just for a couple of days, would give them a chance to get some control over their life there.
Elyon heard steps approaching from behind. She did not turn.
“Why Idier?” she said through clenched teeth, without glancing at who was coming towards the fireplace.
“Why not?” the man’s voice answered. A deep baritone voice she now could recognize among thousands. Only now did she glance at him. At her brother, Phobos, as he came to sit on the armchair at the other side of the coffee table, holding a goblet full of red wine in his hand. “I’ve always wanted to see if it was true that there are mermaids in that ocean,” he said, looking at the flames in the fireplace.
It was not the first time they met in this room, in that space that had formed between their minds soon after she came back to Metamoor to look for him. It was he who had initiated the connection, suddenly appearing in her dreams. Elyon had tried everything she could to shield her mind and block him from reaching out for her, but she had not been successful. Or maybe she did not want to be successful, as she had admittedly started to have mixed feelings about those encounters. A little part of her had started to look forward to talking to her brother. And she felt guilty about it, which was why she had not told anyone - not even Caleb - about this connection.
She did not know if the version of Phobos she saw in these connections and was now sitting in front of the fireplace was how he looked right now. He’d never told her if and how he had managed to summon his original body. The man sitting in the room with her right now was, however, exactly how she remembered him. Tall and lean, his features sharp, high cheekbones, and defined jaw, Phobos Escanor was remembered by everyone in Metamoor as a nightmare, but a good-looking one. His light blonde hair and pale gray eyes were identical to hers, and his features were strangely highlighted by his red eyebrows and beard. Something she had never noticed earlier, when he was alive, was that Phobos seemed to have an impeccable taste in clothing, always showing up with finely decorated robes in combinations of colors that always managed to emphasize his tones.
Phobos swirled the wine in his goblet. “Have you ever visited Idier?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, taking a sip of wine from the goblet. She knew it was all a dream, but it was so vivid she could really feel the taste of the wine on her tongue.
“You should. Don’t make the same mistake I did, child. Those cities need someone to control them closely, I was too generous.”
Elyon shot him an outraged look. “I’m not a child. And you were a tyrant - you were the opposite of generous.”
Phobos waved with his hand, as if to dismiss what she’d just said. “Yes, yes, I know, you’re not a child anymore. You’re a woman now. Engaged, even. You know I disapprove of Caleb, right? I think you’d be better off with the Lord of Grendal. That would ensure you a huge army.”
Elyon squeezed her goblet with so much strength that it would have crumpled up if it were not made of silver. “And why do you even care about me making alliances or visiting the other cities? You’re here to take the crown and wipe me away anyway.”
Phobos chucked behind his goblet. “That’s where you’re wrong, little sister. I’m here to put some order in this mess, with all these nobles ignoring your authority, and I want you to be on my side. It doesn’t matter if the crown is on my head or yours, as long as we work together.”
“What for Imdahl’s thunders are you talking about? I will never be on your side. And if you don’t want the crown, what do you want?”
Phobos took a sip of wine. “I never said I did not want the crown. I just said it doesn’t matter if it’s on my head or yours. It should be on mine, since I’m the first-born son, but if you are on my side, you may as well keep it,” he turned towards her, his clear eyes piercing. “There is much more than Metamoor, little sister. There are worlds out there, worlds with nearly infinite sources of magic and stupid enough not to use it. And after we got our hands on those, there is Kandrakar.”
Elyon’s jaw dropped. “You want to dominate other worlds and then take Kandrakar? Again?”
“Don’t give me that look, little sister. I know you think the people ruling that place are incompetent idiots, and you are completely right. Kandrakar is wasted in the hands of those conservatives.”
“You are just a fool. And I don’t want to be anywhere near you, if not to get rid of you forever,” Elyon spat, turning again to look at the fireplace.
“And yet here you are, letting me into your dreams and talking to me. Admit it, I’m your only family left, and that’s why you’re not locking me out.”
Elyon did not respond, frowning at the fireplace. She could not bring herself to admit that she was indeed willingly letting him in, and she knew that this was making her fall ill. She kept telling herself that she was letting him in to gather pieces of information about his plan and his whereabouts, but deep inside, she knew it was not just about that. She wanted to get to know her brother.
Phobos swirled the wine in his goblet again. “And as your only family left, I must tell you what I think about your betrothal. And believe me when I say that what I think is the same our mother would think. She would never let you marry anyone outside the nobility.”
Elyon rolled her eyes. There he goes, she thought. During their connections, Phobos always ended up talking about their mother, about what she would say about their life decisions, and he always concluded that she would be disappointed in both her kids, despite having taken opposite directions.
“I know what you’re thinking, little one,” he said. “I was bad, but she would have something to say about how you’re ruling as well. She would say that when she was on the throne, Grendal’s and Brandis’s armies would be competing with each other to be the first one to arrive at your gates to support her.”
Elyon could not suppress a bitter laugh. “If Mom were on the throne, you would not be haunting our planet with your army. You would be sitting in your garden the whole day, writing poems to your roses.”
He distorted his mouth in a grimace. Elyon smirked, realizing that she’d hit him with the truth.
“Anyway,” he continued, “speaking about family, it was about time that you called Cedric back.”
She froze.
How does he know?
He shot her an amused look. “Did you really think I didn’t know he was still alive?” he teased. “I did think I had killed him, for a while, but then I realized he’d probably bargained with you to save his life. You have to give him credit that he’s good at surviving.”
Elyon clenched her jaw. Phobos had known the entire time.
“I’m not sure I understood where you hid him, though.” He brought a hand to his chin, mimicking a thoughtful expression. “I’d suppose Basiliade, with the warrior. I wonder how long they lasted. He’s never been the kind of guy for long-term relationships.”
Elyon’s eyes reduced to two slits. Perhaps there was still a chance that she could divert him into thinking that Cedric had no ties with Basiliade anymore. And Phobos did not seem to know about him having his powers back.
“So, where is he? I sincerely hope he’s coming to pay me a visit, he would be impolite otherwise,” he continued.
“I don’t even know where you are, Phobos. How should I know if he’s coming to you?”
Phobos smiled, ignoring her words. “Hm, yes. I think he’s coming to see me. I look forward to it. You did well in sparing his life, little cockroach. He’s a valid ally, even without powers, but don’t forget that he must be kept on a leash and with a muzzle, or he’ll bite.”
Phobos placed the goblet on the coffee table and stood up. He turned to look her in the eyes, a smile painted on his face that almost looked like the genuine smile of an older brother. Elyon forced herself to shut down that voice inside her that rejoiced in seeing that fraternal smile and maintained a cold expression instead.
“Till we meet again, little sister.”
And then, Elyon woke up in her room, alone.
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Chapter 8: 8
Chapter Text
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Come on, you can do this.
Cedric stood about ten steps from the stables entrance, disguised as a Metamoor native with pale green skin, dark yellow eyes, and copper hair.
You’ve seen Vathek’s anger before, so what should happen now?
A shiver ran through his spine at the thought of what could truly happen if Vathek lost his temper. Mostly because Cedric wouldn’t have the nerve to attack him and would let him tear his arms apart instead of hurting him. He couldn’t afford to lose his limbs. Perhaps this wasn’t the right time to try to make peace with his old friend. He had a mission to accomplish for the Queen, one that didn’t allow for any waste of time. Maybe it was for the best if he postponed his encounter with Vathek as himself. If he succeeded in his mission and genuinely helped the Queen get rid of her brother, perhaps Vathek would find it easier to believe that Cedric wasn’t working against them.
He straightened his posture and approached the stables, maintaining the appearance of the copper-haired native. Crossing the large archways that led to the corridor, he noticed the compartments with the horses on both sides. The horses eyed him curiously as he searched for the familiar giant blue creature.
Since no one was in sight, he slowed his pace and observed the horses. It had been years since he had last ridden one. While he had always enjoyed riding, the thought of doing it for days now made him hesitant. His legs protested at the mere idea.
He stopped in front of a midnight blue stallion who studied him with skeptical blue eyes. Cedric had always wondered if animals could see past his magical illusions. Perhaps this stallion was seeing him as he truly looked, with white hair and a scaled tail.
“May I help you?”
A voice from the other entrance of the stables startled him. He turned slowly, knowing it was Vathek.
His heart pounded in his ears as he looked at him, forcing a polite smile on his mask. Vathek had remained unchanged since their last meeting. He was, as always, enormous, blue-skinned, with a large jaw and those white fangs that he kept closed but could point against his enemies when angry.
Cedric cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m a messenger for the Queen,” he said in a high-pitched voice, faking a Grendal accent. He made a quick bow. “Dhofrin, at your service, Sir. I was summoned by the Queen because I’m one of the fastest messengers of the realm. I would need the fastest horse you have, if you please.”
Vathek blinked, studying him. “The fastest horse, you say?” He advanced towards him. “You’re standing in front of him. This is Freckles. He’s a good boy, but can be a bit stubborn.”
Cedric turned towards the dark blue stallion. “Freckles?” he asked.
Vathek approached the compartment behind which Freckles was still staring at Cedric and opened its door. Freckles protested by stomping on the floor, but Vathek invited him to step forward. “Come on, Freckles, show our guest how beautiful you are,” Vathek said.
Freckles snorted but then moved a few steps forward, revealing a constellation of light dots on his back. “Oh, I see now,” Cedric remarked. “Alright, if this is the fastest horse you have, he will do.”
Vathek nodded. “Glad I could be of assistance. You’ll find what you need to saddle him after the compartments, before the entrance you came from.”
Cedric nodded, biting his tongue before instinctively saying, “I know.” He patted the horse’s neck lightly. The horse still looked skeptical but didn’t seem to mind being stroked.
“May I ask you something?” Cedric asked, unable to resist. He knew he shouldn’t, but he had to ask.
“Yes?” Vathek replied.
“Everyone knows the story, Sir. Everyone knows you led the rebellion together with General Caleb. Why did you choose to work in the stables instead of becoming Captain or General yourself?”
Vathek shrugged. “I’m not interested in politics, war, and court affairs. And I have too many memories associated with that palace that I don’t always want to relive. Memories of a different life and someone I lost. I prefer spending time with the horses, so I decided to stay here.”
Cedric smiled bitterly. He felt sorry to hear that Vathek didn’t want to have much to do with the palace because of the memories it evoked in his mind - memories he was responsible for. At the same time, he couldn’t suppress the vague feeling of reassurance that Vathek still cared.
“I understand,” he said. “Thank you for your help, Sir. I will take good care of Freckles and bring him back after I deliver my message.” Then he turned, inviting the horse to follow him.
Surprisingly, the horse agreed and started walking with him towards the entrance.
“You know, your fake Grendal accent still cracks me up,” Vathek said from behind him, causing Cedric to freeze.
“What… fake accent?” Cedric replied through clenched teeth, refusing to turn.
“You won’t believe I didn’t recognize you,” Vathek said, his voice firm. “You could turn into a stone, and I would still know it’s you.”
Cedric clenched his jaw and turned back towards Vathek. Only then did he realize how much he had hoped Vathek would recognize him. And only then did he understand how much it hurt to see the hatred in his eyes. Was it because Cedric had not dared to show up as himself? Or was it because Vathek loathed him regardless of his appearance?
Cedric decided that the least he could do was show his face now. He shifted to his usual human looks, though he would appear slightly different to Vathek, dressed in Basiliade garments.
Vathek scanned him from head to toe, his expression still stern. At least he hadn’t pointed his fangs outward. “So it’s true that the Queen has sent you to Basiliade,” he said. “I’m sorry for that poor girl who fell for you and is now buying your lies.”
Cedric pressed his lips into a thin line. “If there’s one person I don’t lie to, it’s Orube. I love her, Vathek. For real.”
Vathek distorted his mouth in a grimace. “I don’t think someone like you can experience anything remotely close to love or friendship,” he spat. “But it’s not my business. I just hope that when your mask falls off, you won’t cause a war between our planets. Our Queen already has enough to worry about, with her brother being around.”
“I am here to help our Queen. And you know I have no choice but to obey her orders,” Cedric said, taking a step towards him and lowering his voice. “And you… Our Queen will need you as well. You should gather the Galahots, Vathek.”
Vathek inhaled sharply, as if taken aback by such a request.
Cedric continued, “The Queen is weak and is falling into Phobos’s trap. If he gets the crown, the Galahots are the only ones who can stop him. I always kept your secret, and he doesn’t know what your people can do.”
Vathek, his gaze still hard and unforgiving, remained silent. The Galahots were Metamoor’s original native people, who had called the Great Escanor for help. They were the ones who crafted the crown using a stone capable of channeling the Light of Meridian into the headpiece and gave it to Escanor’s wife, the first Queen. The Galahots were the only ones skilled in working those stones and knew where to find them, keeping the secret safe within their community. As far as Cedric knew, they possessed at least one stone encased in a staff, kept in case someone unworthy would obtain the crown, as it could counteract its powers. Cedric should have informed Phobos about this then, but doing so would have meant Phobos hunting down the remaining Galahots, including Vathek, and Cedric had chosen to keep the secret for himself.
Only after a tense moment did Vathek speak again. “The Galahots will always come if the Queen calls. But we will never follow your orders again.” He nodded towards the entrance. “Now, take that horse and go. And don’t you dare bring him back with a single scratch.”
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Chapter 9: 9
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Elyon hated the Council sessions. Of all kinds.
The first type of Council was the Meridian one, which met regularly - too regularly - to discuss internal affairs and matters of the Capital. The members of that Council were Miriadel, who was her First Advisor, Caleb as the General of the army, the Master of Coin, the High Priest, the representative of the Merchants Guild and a representative of the villagers. The latter was a new addition introduced by Elyon, as it had never happened before that a representative of the population took part in the discussions at court. Or at least, it was a new addition as compared to her mother’s inner Council, while Phobos did not have an inner Council at all, having made the members of the old one disappear in the Silverhold.
Back in the day, the Commander of the Queen’s Champions was also a member of this Council, but Elyon did not have any Champion, as they had all disappeared after Phobos ascended to the throne just like the members of the inner Council. Whether they just fled or were killed or sent to the Silverhold, nobody knew for certain. The fact that only two were still alive - the previous Commander, Alborn, and Cedric, suggested that Phobos had something to do with this. Alborn did not even want to look at his armor anymore, so that he did not reprise his role as a Commander and member of the Council, and Elyon was certainly not going to name Cedric in his place. Upon Miriadel’s insistence, however, she was working on reinstating the old practice of selecting some younglings to be trained to become her personal guards one day.
The second Council was the one sitting now around her at the round table and filling the room with a buzz of low voices that would soon make her head explode, as they each whispered with their accompanying person while waiting for the Queen to open the meeting.
It was the Council of the Towers of Metamoor, the one that was supposed to help her make decisions for the whole realm. The Metamoor realm was not big, at least as compared to Earth lands, as only a small portion of the planet was known to be inhabited. But still, there were four cities with countless small villages scattered all over the territory, and about three hundred thousand people to take care of under the same crown.
Surprisingly, Phobos had not made the Council of the Towers disappear - probably because he enjoyed being surrounded by Nobles who could do nothing but nod at everything he said, bow to him and pay tributes to the crown.
Usually, the four heads of the Towers took part in the Council: Lord Lathai of Grendal, Lord Ilyn of Brandis, Lady Alasse of Hoel and Lord Tanyl of Idier. Today, Lord Tanyl was not sitting at the round table because Elyon had summoned the Council with a too short notice for him to travel from Idier, and anyway Elyon expected him to be occupied with his town being under a siege - which was the reason she’d summoned the other Lords and the Lady to the Council in the first place.
Each Lord and the Lady always came accompanied by their closest advisors. Lord Lathai of Grendal was young, just a bit older than Elyon, and had recently taken his mother’s place after she’d decided it was time for her to retire and enjoy the peace and quiet of her immense and renowned garden. Grendal nobles looked more human than those from the other noble families, but less than the Escanors. Lathai had fair pink skin like Elyon’s, but pointed ears, purple eyes and green hair, which made him strangely intriguing to look at. Like all Metamoor Lords, he wore the traditional headpiece that symbolized his status - a silver chain falling on his forehead, with a stone of the color of his city - emerald. He was accompanied by his uncle Itham, his First Advisor, a middle-aged man sharing the same tone of skin, eyes and hair, but without the same lively light in his eyes as his nephew, his expression always drawn and his gaze always serious. As far as Elyon knew, that man was the one who effectively took nearly all decisions in Grendal - and they were not always decisions in favor of the Queen, especially after the announcement of her betrothal with Caleb, which wiped away Sir Itham’s long-term projects of having his nephew Lathai married to the Queen (and the throne of Grendal for himself).
Ilyn, the Lord of Brandis, sat at the opposite side of the table facing Lathai, and next to him sat his cousin, Kendrel Naeyre, or Cassandra as she preferred to be called. Both of them wore a similar headpiece as Lathai’s, but with a yellow stone. Although Ilyn was only Cassandra’s cousin, he shared a lot of features with her and could have easily been mistaken for Kaï, Cassandra’s late twin who was supposed to sit at his place. Like Cassandra, he was not very tall, with brown curly hair that he kept tied in a low ponytail, pointed ears, fair green skin covered in freckles and remarkable green eyes. Sitting next to him, Cassandra looked around with wide eyes, as if she was still in a shock after having been suddenly brought back to her native land after so many years on Earth. The city of Brandis did not follow a matriarchal succession like Meridian and Hoel, but its rules allowed that after Kaï’s death, Cassandra could become the Lady of the city. However, it was clear to Elyon that this was not what Cassandra wanted. In fact, she would not have been surprised if Cassandra was planning to ask her to either go back to Heatherfield or move to another Metamoor city, so she wouldn't have to live so close to the emptiness that her twin had left behind.
The Lady of Hoel was an enigma to Elyon. She was a breathtakingly beautiful woman of an age impossible to determine - she looked rather young, but Elyon knew she had been Lady of Hoel for many years and that she was her mother’s best friend. The stone of her headpiece was black. Her skin was of a pale green without patches or freckles. Her entire look was regal and elongated, from the pointed ears to her long thin neck adorned with white pearls and her tapered hands ending with dark green claws. Her eyes were unusual, black like the onyx of her headpiece, and she had the unsettling ability of expanding her irises at will, such that they covered the whites, transforming her eyes into deep pits of darkness. Her hair was as dark as her eyes, falling straight along her back like black silk.
She was accompanied by her High Priestess, a lady who never showed her face in public and always appeared wearing a fine dark blue robe and a veil covering the first half of her face, revealing an unusual warm caramel skin tone with lighter patches beneath the veil.
Sitting next to Elyon, Miriadel touched her arm. “Are you sure you can take this?” she whispered.
Elyon nodded. The potion that one of the healers had given her earlier seemed to work well enough that she at least had stopped shivering and showing signs of having fever. She silently prayed that the effects would last at least until the end of the meeting.
Elyon cleared her throat, trying to capture the Council’s attention. Silence fell in the room, everyone’s eyes turning to her.
“Welcome, my Lords, and my Lady,” she said with the voice that Caleb affectionately called the Queen voice. “I am very grateful that you accepted to come on such a short notice, and during such troubled times.” She paused, while each of the Council members nodded politely at her remark. “I will not waste your time on pleasantries. I know you are all worried for your people and wish to go home as soon as possible. You know why I have summoned you. Our world is in danger.” She surveyed each of the Council members, studying their reactions. They all remained impassive. “And we need to put our forces together to fight this threat that is looming on the horizon.”
Lathai’s uncle cocked his head to the side at this last remark. “And where exactly is this threat? We haven’t seen anyone in Grendal so far.”
Elyon suppressed the instinct of trying to incinerate him with her eyes and remained impassive as well. “We should not turn our backs on Idier. It is only a matter of time before the threat will knock at your cities’ doors and then come to the capital.”
“Why don’t you call it by its real name, this threat?” Itham said, his tone as sharp as the blade of a knife. “It is on everyone’s mouth: the Prince is back.”
Elyon pressed her lips to a thin line. “Does it really matter, who is the threat to our world? Yes, my brother is back. But it could be anyone else and the point would still be the same: we need to be united, if we want to defend our lands.”
“How can our armies be of any help against him? If it’s true what we have been told - that he has thousands of Annihilators - our armies would stand little chances,” said Ilyn. Differently from Itham, at least Ilyn did not have that defiant tone in his voice, but sounded genuinely concerned for his army.
“And how do we know that he even has any interest in our cities?” pressed Itham. “As far as we know, all he wants is Meridian and your crown.”
You bastard, thought Elyon, you were there when Phobos was ruling, how can you possibly want this again? But she hesitated, trying to find the right words.
“Is it true?” chimed in the Lady of Hoel, with her low and glacial tone. “Is it true that you caught Cedric?”
Everyone fell silent, eyes all turning to Elyon. She exchanged a glance with Cassandra, whose eyes were as wide as ever. She was the only one to know the truth - that Cedric had switched sides and that he could control the Annihilators.
Elyon clenched her fists on her knees under the table, her nails digging into her palms. It was time to decide whether she wanted to go on with the play she had started by letting Cedric be seen walking as a prisoner towards the palace, or be honest and tell the truth to her Council members. Miriadel had advised her not to tell them, as their trust in her was already frail enough without knowing that she was entrusting Cedric with saving their asses. But deep inside, Elyon knew this was not the way to earn their trust. They were skeptical anyway, and there was a risk they’d find out anyway about Cedric, for example if Cassandra could not keep her mouth shut.
“It is true - I found Cedric,” she said. “But he is not my prisoner.” In the corner of her eye, she saw Miriadel stiffen. “Phobos has tortured him and forced him to create the Annihilators using his own blood,” she explained to the astonished Council members. “And Cedric has sworn his loyalty to me, which he is anyway bound to honor, since he was one of my mother’s Champions.”
She paused, surveying again the expressions of the Council members and their accompanying persons. Ilyn was thoughtful - he did not look outraged or skeptical, but seemed to be merely pondering on her words. Cassandra was looking at her with those giant pleading eyes, biting her lower lip, as if she wanted to ask more about her friend, but knew she could not do it right now.
Lady Alasse was, as usual, an enigma. Her black irises had expanded a bit, but not enough to cover the whites completely. Elyon had the impression to see the shadow of a half smile curving her mouth. As if she was satisfied by her answer that Cedric was alive and had sworn loyalty to her. What did it mean? Did she know he was a Champion? Of course she knows, Elyon thought, suddenly remembering that Lady Alasse was close to her mother and must have seen him more than once wearing armor.
The High Priestess leaned to the side, whispering something to Alasse’s ear, to which she nodded.
Lord Lathai was not outraged either, but just like Ilyn, he seemed to be considering the implications of what Elyon had just said. Differently from his uncle, who instead had curved his mouth in a grimace of disdain.
“Everyone knows that Cedric is not to be trusted,” Sir Itham said. “And where is he, by the way?”
Elyon bit the inside of her cheek, considering what to answer. Phobos already knew or suspected that Cedric was going towards him, so she would not give away any new piece of information by saying that he was traveling to Idier. “He is joining the army,” she decided to say, without specifying if he was joining the army in Idier or the rest of the army that had stayed in Meridian.
Sir Itham cocked his head again, narrowing his eyes to two slits. He’s not buying it, Elyon thought.
Before Itham could rebut, Ilyn spoke again. “Do you trust him, Your Highness?”
Of all the questions you could ask… Elyon straightened her back, trying to look confident. “I do,” she lied. She did not trust Cedric. She could never do. But they had to believe she did.
“And what about his powers?” Sir Itham intervened again.
Elyon turned slowly towards him. Why was he asking all these questions? “You know, Sir Itham,” she said with the most glacial tone she could try, “last time I checked, the member of my Council was your nephew, Lord Lathai, and not you. You are not supposed to talk at these meetings, and are doing so only because I’m very generous.” Sir Itham frowned, sitting back in his chair. “And to answer your question, which I sure hope is the last one, I sincerely doubt that anyone could ever undo magic made by the Oracle of Kandrakar in person. Even implying that someone could do such a thing is a great insult to Kandrakar,” she lied again, and had to suppress the grin that was unwillingly surfacing on her lips, knowing that Cedric had provenn that the Oracle was not as omnipotent as everyone thought.
Kandrakar magic does not have a price, but can always be undone, Elyon recalled reading in her mother’s diaries.
She perceived Miriadel shifting uncomfortably on her chair, a sign that the conversation was taking a worrying turn. It was time to stir it again and bring it to a conclusion.
“My Lords, my Lady,” she addressed them all, reprising the Queen voice. “I am not asking you to send anyone to Idier. I already sent my General and a part of my army; they will take care of protecting our friends. And I will do the same for each and everyone of you, should my brother attack any of your cities. My army and the Light of Meridian will be at your disposal. What I am asking in return is that you respond to my call and do the same for me, when the time comes.”
The Council members stilled, all looking at her with impenetrable gazes. A shiver ran through Elyon’s spine, and she was not sure if it was because of the tension of the situation or if the potion was running out and the fever was coming back. The weight of her age and position suddenly crushed on her shoulders again, as it did from time to time when she had to take decisions or speak to her Council members like she was doing now. In those moments, she suddenly remembered that she was twenty-five, despite looking younger, but differently from her terrestrial friends she never had the luxury of living her early twenties only worrying about boyfriends and university. In those moments, the weight of the crown she wore on her head became almost impossible to stand.
She did not want to be in that room anymore. She just wanted to go back to her room and sleep.
As nobody took the word again, she went on, “You do not have to give me an answer now. I understand you will need to discuss this with your inner Councils. My offer for protection will still stand, even if you will not come to my aid.” She surveyed each one of them, letting her generous words sink in. “I’m the Queen of this realm, and this is my duty. I trust you know what yours is.”
Elyon stood up before anyone could speak. Only now did she realize her legs were trembling beneath her brocade gown. The Council members and accompanying persons all stood up.
“That’s all for today. Go back to your cities. Protect them. And do what is right for our land. You’re dismissed,” she said, struggling to maintain the Queen voice. She resisted the need to just turn away and run to her room without waiting for the meeting to close.
“Our Queen,” the people standing around the table said in unison, bowing their heads.
Elyon nodded, fighting not to let a relieved sigh escape her lips. She turned her back to them, then she walked towards her private exit of the room, flanked by Miriadel.
She needed some sleep.
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Chapter 10: 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
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At the end of the first day of riding, literally everything in Cedric’s body was hurting. He was not used to it anymore, and Freckles definitely did not make it any easier. It was as if he’d understood that Cedric was not used to riding for long anymore and had decided to make his life hell on purpose.
When he’d dismounted the first time to give him a break and get something to eat at the village nearby, Freckles had looked at him in such an eloquent way it was as if he could speak - as if he could tell him, “Who do you want to fool, biped? The only one who needs a break here is you.”
Cedric stopped at another village at sunset, fighting not to crash to the ground as soon as he’d dismounted. Still disguised as Dhofrin, the messenger from Grendal, he paid for a room at the local inn and for the keeping of the horse in the stables, quickly ate a bowl of tasteless soup with some stale bread, and went to his room.
He crashed onto the bed face-first with a groan, turning back into his usual self as he did so. Why had they never invented cars in Metamoor?
Granted, Metamoor was not a big planet - it was slightly larger than Basiliade but perhaps only half the size of Earth, and just like Basiliade, only a very small portion of land was inhabited, not even as large as Europe. Nothing comparable to distances on Earth, but at least a train connecting the main cities would have been a benefit for everyone - especially his legs and back.
He rolled over to lie on his back, his gaze landing on the ceiling. He was so exhausted he hadn't even looked around to see where he had ended up. He didn’t care. As far as he could tell, it was a standard room in a standard inn in a standard Metamoor village - no furniture other than that uncomfortable bed, a chair, and a small table.
Cedric closed his eyes for a moment, finally able to listen to his thoughts in the peace and quiet of the room. He’d been tense and nervous the whole day, focused on the route, keeping up with that crazy stallion, and maintaining the appearance of Dhofrin. He hadn’t had the chance to reflect on everything that had happened since he'd arrived in Metamoor with Morven earlier that morning.
He was in Metamoor again - his world.
It had not been that long since the last time he’d been there - about a year and a half ago, when Phobos had sent him to the crypt to fetch the materials for his army. But back then, Cedric was a prisoner, subject to that infernal uniform which tortured him every time he even thought about disobeying Phobos’s will. He hadn't been free.
Not that he was truly free now - he was still bound to the Queen’s orders and had to do exactly what she wanted. But he was one step closer to the freedom to choose how to do things. And maybe, one day, he would also earn the freedom to choose where and how to live.
But where would he choose to live, if he had the chance? And would he ever be able to live without taking orders from someone? That was unlikely. Whoever won the war, Cedric would end up either dead or serving an Escanor on the throne - whether it was Elyon or Phobos, it would barely make a difference.
Of one thing he was sure - regardless of who the monarch might be, he was not going to accept living far away from Orube. But would she agree to move to Metamoor with him, if it came to that?
Orube... He had thought about her every time he managed to relax his mind for a few minutes during the ride. What was she doing? How much time had passed in Basiliade? Probably already a couple of days. Did she miss him? Did anyone ask about him - where he was going and for how long?
He shook his head. Orube was not the kind of woman who would whine just because her partner was away for a couple of days. She would miss him, probably, but she’d face his absence with her head held high. He, on the other hand, was already feeling miserable after less than one day.
He considered contacting her through the mirror, just to see her face and hear her voice. But it was risky. What if someone in the inn could perceive such a powerful burst of magic - the kind generated by activating that mirror? The last thing Cedric needed was to attract attention. Better to use it only when absolutely necessary.
Besides, he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. Images and thoughts began to blur in his mind - flashes from the day, the meeting with the Queen, then flashes of Basiliade, Orube’s smile... until he fell asleep, thinking about his sun.
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The second day was more forgiving. When Cedric woke up, his body was stiff as a board, and getting up and trying to walk was a torture. With magic, though, he could at least ease some of the pain and head downstairs to the stables.
Freckles was in a better mood that morning - perhaps satisfied with his victory over Cedric the day before and deciding to give him a break. He even nudged him when Cedric approached, something Cedric would not have expected from that horse. Was he really happy to see him?
The landscape began to change as Cedric and Freckles left the western border of Meridian behind. He was now in Brandis territory, surrounded by hills with higher mountains looming to the north. Fortunately, his path ran through the valley to the west, so he wouldn’t need to climb or force Freckles to gallop uphill.
There were no villages in this region for many miles, but the path followed a river, allowing him to stop occasionally so Freckles could drink and he could refill his own supply.
It was nearly sunset when he reached Brandis’s western border with Idier. The terrain gradually shifted from hills to a dry plain with scattered green patches and trees resembling palm trees. It would take nearly a full day to reach the tower of Idier, which overlooked the vast ocean. Cedric hadn’t visited this area often, but he remembered one village near the Brandis-Idier border - his destination for the night. He just hoped they hadn't adopted Idier’s fish-based cuisine, or he’d have to be very cautious about what ended up on his plate.
He brought Freckles to a halt when he noticed a building partially hidden by the palm-like trees.
A temple.
He’d seen a few temples along the way, but this one was different from how it used to be. The temples he’d seen so far had been dedicated to Imdahl, Metamoor's major deity, as they always had been. This temple had once been dedicated to Imdahl too - but no longer. He could tell from the three columns on its facade, each bearing a different symbol.
Cedric steered Freckles left and took the smaller path leading to the temple.
He recognized those symbols very well - especially the spiral in the center.
The temple was now dedicated to the Cousins: Endor, God of Truth; Ursi, God of Hope; and Lunja, Goddess of Illusion - the one to whom he was bound.
Cedric had never been particularly religious, but after the chaos on Earth involving Metamoor creatures summoned by Cassandra and destroyed by Endor and Ursi, and his encounter with Lunja, the last thing he wanted was to offend her again by passing by without entering. Especially since this temple, once Imdahl’s, had been granted to the Cousins by Elyon as part of the deal to save Cedric’s life.
He left Freckles near the entrance and went inside. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the dim light, and he was immediately struck by the smell of incense and the sudden drop in temperature.
Temples in Metamoor were simple. Floors, walls, and columns were typically made of marble in shades of green and blue. This temple was no different from any of Imdahl's, except that instead of a single statue of the mighty, muscular God King, there were three statues - each seated on a throne and wearing mischievous smiles. Endor and Ursi on either side, and Lunja in the center, tall and lean, with high cheekbones and long, straight hair.
Cedric walked the central aisle until he reached the dais where the statues sat.
He knelt, bowed his head, and thought about what to say. He didn’t want to pray - he’d stopped praying long ago. He’d come to see the temple from inside and to pay respect to the Goddess who had shown him mercy, but he wasn’t going to beg. He’d begged often as a child, asking who he was, where his family was, and why he was alone. She’d never answered. Not even during their encounter in that alley in Heatherfield, not even before killing him, had she given him an answer.
No, he would not pray. He whispered a respectful greeting in the Metamoor tongue, then stood up. He looked once more at Lunja’s impassive statue, then turned and walked back down the aisle.
“I have always liked you, my child.”
Lunja’s voice made him freeze in place.
“Excellent in our art of illusion, handsome and cunning. All qualities I cherish and expect from my children,” she said. Cedric couldn’t tell whether the voice was echoing through the temple or only in his mind.
He turned back to the statues. They remained motionless.
“According to our legends, you gave me all these qualities,” Cedric said - or thought. He couldn’t be sure.
“All I give my children is a seed, Cedric. It is up to them to make it grow,” she replied.
Cedric spread his arms, gesturing around the temple. “Why did you want this? Why are these temples so important to you?”
A cold chuckle echoed around him. “How do you think Imdahl became so powerful among us? Our power is not given by some blessing or plan. It comes from worship. By granting us these temples, your Queen has made us more powerful in the Council - though we still rank below our pompous Cousin.”
Cedric froze. He had never wondered how the Gods gained their powers or if their hierarchy could shift, and he certainly had never imagined that the faith of their followers could influence it.
“You asked me for answers many times,” she continued. “I know those answers.”
Cedric flinched.
“Of course I know,” she added with a chuckle. “I am a Goddess. I could tell you where your roots lie. I could even tell you that one of your parents is still alive.”
The words hit Cedric like a blow to the gut.
One of your parents is still alive.
Still... alive.
His legs moved instinctively, carrying him backward toward the exit.
“But I know you’re not ready to hear these answers,” the Goddess said, voicing what Cedric had not yet admitted to himself. “I can tell you this, though - choices lie ahead of you, Cedric. Choices that could dramatically alter your path.”
Cedric shook his head and kept backing away. “I... Why are you telling me this...?” he whispered.
“Because I am a Goddess, and Goddesses say such things,” she said. “And because it’s true. Now go, my son, and make your choices. And remember - your path may change, but I will remain your Goddess. And I will still have your answers, whenever you are ready.”
Cedric fled the temple, his head spinning.
The light outside was blinding after the dim interior, and a wave of hot air hit him. He reached out to a column for support as the world spun. He closed his eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass.
He heard a snort and the sound of hooves, then felt a nudge on his shoulder. When he opened his eyes, Freckles was there, looking almost... concerned. Cedric placed a hand on his neck. “I just... I just need a minute, Freckles.”
Freckles shook his head with a grunt and began to back away, his gaze expressive enough to ask if he should stay. Cedric reached out again. “No... Stay, please.”
Freckles seemed to understand. He returned to Cedric's side and rested his head against his arm, as if waiting for him to calm down.
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Notes:
Thank you for reading <3 I hope you’re liking this story so far! Are you curious to know who Cedric's parents are?
As always, if you’re enjoying the read, please feel free to drop a line here in the comments! I would love to hear from yall!
Chapter 11: 11
Chapter Text
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Cedric rode the rest of the day without really paying attention to his surroundings, his mind still locked in on what had happened in the temple. Lunja’s words echoed in his mind over and over again, every time he tried to think about something else.
I could tell you where your roots are, and I could even go so far as to tell you that one of your parents is still alive.
One of your parents is still alive.
Lunja was right on one thing: Cedric did not want to know. Not anymore. Or at least, this was what he’d thought all these years, after giving up as a child on begging the Goddess for answers. He’d come to the conclusion that knowing who his parents were would do him only harm, as he would then have wanted to know why they had abandoned him. And the answer to that was probably something he did not want to hear.
But now, hearing that one of them was still alive had unlocked something in his mind again. Was it someone in Meridian? Or someone in another city? Did they know him? Most probably they knew him as the right hand of Phobos - as back then he was almost as famous as the Prince himself in the whole realm - but did they know that that monster was their son?
One of your parents is still alive.
Did that mean that the other one was dead? Was one of them a shapeshifter like him? That was not necessarily the case - shapeshifting was not always hereditary, and often shapeshifters were born in families where nobody had ever had that talent.
He felt a pang in his chest at the sudden need to talk about it with someone. No - not just with someone, he needed to tell Orube about this encounter. Activating the mirror was extremely risky, but perhaps he could find an isolated spot where it was less likely that someone was around, scavenging magic.
He decided to think about it later, as now the village he was aiming for was visible perhaps half a mile from where he and Freckles were on the street.
The village was small, as he remembered - just a little group of houses around a central square, hosting perhaps fifty inhabitants in total. Something was unusual, though. Cedric narrowed his eyes to two slits, trying to focus on the shapes he saw moving around the border of the village, close to its entrance. There were people, and horses.
As he got closer, he could distinguish a dozen people and the same number of horses, and realized that they were wearing armor.
“They must be from Elyon’s army!” he said, not sure if he was talking to himself or to Freckles.
But why were a dozen soldiers from Elyon’s army in this village? Weren’t they supposed to be in Idier? And where was the rest of the army?
He made Freckles accelerate his pace. When he was close enough, he could see that someone wearing a different armor, with spaulders decorated with silver knobs, was talking to two villagers at the entrance. If not by his armor, which clearly distinguished his rank above the others, he recognized him by the green streaks that marked his jaw and cheeks like scratches.
Caleb.
His stomach shifted at the sight of the man who had led the insurgence that brought him and Phobos to their defeat. By now, Cedric was fine with how things went with the rebellion - he had for a long time recognized that he had been on the wrong side and had served the wrong Escanor, so he had accepted that losing that battle was the right course of events for the sake of the planet. But still, Caleb was the one who had won against them, and now Cedric would have to collaborate with him. And how would he react now, seeing him arrive?
As he stopped the horse a few paces from the group of soldiers, he suddenly realized that if nobody was paying attention to him, it was because he was still disguised as Dhofrin. He dismounted and walked towards the group, Freckles walking beside him and looking at the army with disinterest.
Some soldiers turned towards the newcomer, acknowledging his existence, but did not give him more than a few seconds of their attention before turning back to talk with their companions.
Caleb nodded at the two villagers, who then turned and went back towards the houses, and only then did the General glance in his direction for a second before turning towards his soldiers.
And then, he glanced again. At him, and at Freckles, frowning.
Caleb gave an order to the soldier closest to him, who then signaled to the others, shouting that they should start preparing the camp, and then walked towards Cedric.
“Who are you, stranger, and why are you traveling with Freckles?” Caleb asked, when he was close enough.
Cedric cocked his head to the side, unable to stop a defiant smirk from surfacing on his lips. “Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” he asked in return, not bothering anymore to fake the Grendal accent, and using his own voice.
Caleb distorted his mouth in disdain and scanned him - or better, his disguise - from head to toe. “I’m not punching you in your fake face only because I don’t want my men to know it’s you,” he hissed.
“It’s nice to see you too, Caleb,” Cedric said, then glanced around them. “Where’s the rest of the army? And the Annihilators? I was sent here for them, not to chit-chat with you, thank the Gods.”
Caleb shook his head and lowered his voice, coming closer to him. “There was no siege,” he murmured.
Cedric flinched. “What?!”
“The messengers who brought the information to Meridian were evidently all imposters. And they’re now in Meridian, while I and five hundred soldiers are days away from the Queen. I’m traveling with a small group of soldiers to get back to Meridian as fast as possible, while the rest of the army with my second in command will follow.”
“Shit,” Cedric cursed. “I warned her it was a decoy, but I thought at least the siege was real. You’re camping here for the night, I suppose?”
Caleb nodded. “Yes. The villagers have offered their hospitality inside as well, but it is better if we camp here outside and stay united. We’ll resume the travel tomorrow at first light.”
“Fair enough,” Cedric said. “I was going to stay here as well for the night and then proceed to Idier tomorrow, but I suppose I’ll travel back to Meridian, too. I’ll look for somewhere to stay far away from you.” Then he made to turn with Freckles, but Caleb grabbed his arm.
“No way, Cedric. You will not leave my sight, so you will camp with us. When they ask, say you are whoever you said you were during your journey - I don’t care - but you stay where I can see you. Are we clear?”
This time it was Cedric who distorted his mouth in a grimace. Not even five minutes in, and Caleb was already giving him orders. “Crystal clear, General.”
In the end, there was no need to tell anyone who he was and why he was there with the soldiers, as nobody paid attention to Dhofrin. Caleb told them he’d been sent by the Queen to report back on the situation in Idier, and the soldiers did not question anything that the General said.
Their camp was not even a real camp - there were no tents, and they simply slept outside using their cloaks and bags to soften the hard ground. As promised, Cedric stayed close to Caleb. He knew he would not sleep much that night, partially because of the uncomfortable setting, partially because of the low chatting of the two soldiers who were tasked with guarding the camp. And mostly because he could not afford to really fall into a deep sleep, or he would lose control of his disguise as Dhofrin.
He woke up from one of the half-asleep moments of that night with a gasp, feeling that something had shifted. A few steps from him, he felt that Caleb was awake as well.
“Why is it so quiet?” whispered Caleb.
Cedric’s eyes searched in the dark for the silhouettes of the two sentinels, without seeing them. He heard Caleb standing to his feet, and did the same.
“Something’s not right,” said Caleb next to him.
Then they saw two silhouettes moving towards them. They cautiously walked towards them, hearing the other soldiers shifting behind them and waking up.
Only when they were close enough to the two shapes could they recognize their features, their profiles dimly lit by the few lights that came from the village. They were the two villagers with whom Caleb was speaking earlier.
“Is something wrong?” asked Caleb. Cedric looked around for the two guards, but could not see them.
The two villagers cocked their heads in a synchronized movement, studying Caleb and Cedric with unsettling eyes.
This is not good, thought Cedric.
And then, a wave of scales scanned both villagers from head to toe, shifting their appearance.
Cedric widened his eyes in horror, witnessing the effect that his own magic did to others.
And in the blink of an eye, two Annihilators stood in front of them.
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Chapter 12: 12
Chapter Text
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“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Orube said. “It’s almost sunset, time to go prepare yourselves, salute Ukani and Nechtu and go to supper.”
The ten kids did not need to hear it twice, and they quickly gathered in a row in front of her in the arena, then brought their right hands to their chests in unison, almost in perfect choreography, to salute their Master.
“Netjer, Master,” they thanked her as one.
She did the same salute to them, then turned on her heels and started walking towards the House of Masters. As she walked the street of the Citadel that, like all other streets, converged towards the center, where the House of Masters was located, the familiar heavy weight in her chest gradually started to nudge again. Now that her tasks in the arena were done for the day, she had nothing else to keep her mind and her body occupied, and that feeling of emptiness and worry slowly started to surface again, like every day in the last week. Like every day since she’d watched Cedric walking away from the Citadel with Morven.
She shook her head. She hated that heavy weight in her chest. He’d been gone for only one week, and every time she had nothing specific to do, she felt miserable and lonely, like a human girl missing her crush. So many times she had looked at Will with her eyebrows raised when she complained that she missed Matt when he was away for a weekend with Joel and Peter, thinking “he’s just a man, girl, get your shit together.”
So many times she’d rolled her eyes whenever any of the other girls were in a period in which they were not dating anyone and whined all the time about how they wanted to have a boyfriend.
Now, she had to roll her eyes at herself, all whining and moping around because her partner was not there with her every day and every night. She had become weak, growing used to having him around at all times, for more than a year.
She snorted as the House of Masters came into sight at the end of the street.
If Luba could see me now…
“Hey!” Kilubi’s voice interrupted her daily self-commiseration session. “You finished late today!” She was sitting on a bench at the border of the central square with Rehu. They both stood up and walked towards her.
“Were you out here waiting for me?” Orube asked, frowning at the two. She spent a lot of time with Kilubi and Rehu, and could say they were good friends, but the two of them waiting for her outside the House of Masters like two vultures did not promise anything good.
“What else would we be doing sitting on a bench here?” said Rehu. “Waiting for Yarr and Raziya to come taking us by the ears and call us lazy piwkras?”
Orube raised a corner of her mouth in a half smile. “And they would be right. So what is it?”
Kilubi shrugged. “We just want to know how you are doing.”
Orube stopped walking. Her eyebrows shot up as she looked Kilubi in the eye, so similar to her own.
“Don’t give me that look, Orube,” Kilubi said. “We’re just worried for you. That perhaps you feel… lonely,” she exchanged a look with Rehu.
Orube looked at Rehu as well, then at Kilubi again, frowning. Are they not really thinking about… “If you’re thinking about setting me up with a deal with someone else, forget it!” she snapped, pointing a threatening finger at them. “I have no interest in that. And I’m fine, more than fine.”
Rehu shook his head, chuckling. “No, we did not mean finding you a temporary partner… We know you two are exclusive. We meant… if you feel sad because you miss him, maybe you would like to talk with us.”
Orube turned up her nose. “Sad? What do you two think I am, a Histean? Sad because my man is not there? Bah!” she said, then started to walk again, followed by them. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m perfectly fine on my own.”
Kilubi and Rehu walked in silence for a bit next to her. With the corner of her eye, Orube could see the telling expressions on their faces, betraying that they knew very well how she was actually not as fine as she wanted everyone to believe.
“Well, tonight we are meeting at your sister’s place for a couple of glasses. Come with us, it will help you relax a bit!” Kilubi said.
Orube’s head snapped at her. “My sister? Does she even know that you’ve invited yourselves to her place?” Maut did not live in the House of Masters like her, Kilubi and Rehu, as she had lost her Master title after the battle. She would get it back, eventually, but not before a trial period in which she would need to show her loyalty to the Grand Masters. Therefore, she lived alone in a small house in the Citadel, in the area where the other warriors and some civilians lived.
“Actually she invited us. And most importantly she invited you. She is worried for you, Orube.”
Orube puffed. “Impossible. My sister already has a hard time not showing her disappointment because I have fallen for someone, a foreigner no less. I doubt that she cares about how I feel with him being gone.”
“Come and you’ll see,” said Kilubi, then she turned to look at the House of Masters, now in front of them. “Are you going to ask the Grand Masters again for permission to bring us to Metamoor?”
Orube sighed, looking up at the tall entrance of the House. “Yeah. I’ll be their nightmare until they say yes, there’s nothing else I can do but insist.”
“Do you really not want us to come?” asked Rehu.
Orube raised a hand as if to send them away. “No, I have to convince them myself.” She made to open the door.
“Will you come join us later then?” Kilubi asked, before Orube could close the door behind her.
Orube answered without turning. “Maybe next time. But thank you.”
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She found the Grand Masters in the council room, all three turned towards the large window that directly faced the sunset. Orube closed the door behind her and then stood still a few steps from it, also looking in the direction of the window and the sunset beyond the silhouettes of the three Grand Masters. They all stood in silence for a couple of minutes, the time it took for one of the Twin Suns to reach the closest point to the horizon, and they all brought their right hands to their chests in salute.
Only after that did the Grand Masters turn towards her.
“Sister,” said Acheri, sketching a smile. “Are you here to propose a brawl, talk about politics or finally invite your brother to have supper with you?”
Orube remained impassive at Acheri’s remark, reminding her that in the last week her only contacts with him had been either for training or for talking about Metamoor. Yarr and Raziya exchanged a look, perhaps to agree that they did not want anything to do with the quarrel between the two siblings.
“If you’re here to talk about politics, you’ll be happy to know that we were just talking about Metamoor,” Acheri continued, approaching the table in the center of the room. The council room of the House of Masters was very simple in its furniture, with only a few shelves that contained various parchments, tapestries hanging on the walls depicting the heroic deeds of Ukani, Nechtu and some other legendary Masters like Endarno and Himerish, and the big table at the center of the room, surrounded by six stools, although only three were really necessary.
“And what did you conclude, Grand Masters?” asked Orube.
Acheri crossed his arms over his chest. “We are in disagreement,” he said. “You know we need a unanimous vote. Yarr and Raziya are favorable in sending help to the Metamoor Queen. I am not.”
Orube pressed her lips into a thin line. Why did Acheri always have to be so defiant? “And why not?”
Acheri did not answer right away, fixing his amber eyes on hers.
Yarr and Raziya exchanged another look and nodded at each other. “Perhaps it is better if you discuss this informally. We will leave you to it,” said Yarr, then headed towards the door without waiting for a reaction from either of the two siblings. Raziya followed him but surprisingly gave an encouraging look at Orube as she passed her.
As the door closed behind the two Grand Masters, Acheri went on, “I will not agree to this until you explain to me why I should help a Queen who has done nothing but send me an outcast she herself does not trust.”
Orube clenched her fists at her sides. “You were the one to say that it doesn’t matter if Cedric is not a Metamoor hero. You said he had to earn our trust, irrespective of what the Queen thinks of him, and that’s what he did.”
“Yes, it doesn’t matter as long as it only has to do with him, and with us accepting him in our community. But it starts to matter if I have to send my people to aid the Queen. We’re not talking about sending warriors to save him or to save one of us. We would not be here discussing if it was about that - I would come with you myself. We’re talking about sending people to save this foreign Queen’s crown. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t give a damn if on the throne of Meridian there’s this Queen lady or her brother.”
Orube stilled, studying her brother. He had not changed much in the last year, still looking as the young man he was, but when it came to matters that involved his position as the First Grand Master, he did look different. He took his responsibility seriously, and Orube could understand that he did not want to risk making a huge mistake as his first action that involved the relationship of Basiliade with other worlds.
“And don’t forget about Histea, sister,” he went on. “Sending aid to Metamoor will make it clear and out in the open that we are aiming for an alliance. And who knows how the Histeans will react to this - they may feel cornered and look for alliances themselves, such that if - or better - when the conflict will be reopened, they will be on equal terms with us.”
Orube crossed her arms over her chest. “And what do Yarr and Raziya have to say about this? They gave their approval, and with all due respect, brother, they know the conflict with Histea better than you do. Certainly they have evaluated the risks.”
Acheri shook his head and started pacing back and forth on the other side of the table separating him from Orube. “Yarr and Raziya are not thinking about this objectively. They both like Cedric, for a start.”
Orube lifted her eyebrows. “And you don’t?”
“Of course I do. But I have less personal affection towards him. Raziya seems to have grown fond of him because of his training, and Yarr apparently relates to him because they were both exiled on Earth. But most importantly, Yarr and Raziya both have grudges with Histea. They were there in the last war. Raziya lost her mate there, and Yarr lost his first apprentice. To me, these should be reasons not to want another fight, but they see it differently.”
Orube sighed. Acheri had a point, and she knew he had good reasons not to endorse this mission. But she had to try anyway. “The Queen is a good person, Acheri. She could have killed Cedric, or thrown him into a dungeon, and instead she decided to give him a second chance. And the Metamoor natives have gone through so much suffering because of Phobos, they do not deserve to live this again. I have to go, even if it means I have to go alone.”
“You cannot go either, if we do not approve,” Acheri’s words were like a fist in her stomach.
Orube’s jaw dropped. Was he giving her orders?
“Why so surprised?” he asked. “You’re a Master of the Citadel, and you represent us wherever you go, just like Kilubi and Rehu do. You can go when we say you can go.”
Orube moved a step towards the table and leaned on it with her palms, facing Acheri on the other side. “You cannot do this!” she barked. “I cannot lose him again, Acheri. I will go.”
Acheri did the same and leaned on the table with both hands, his orange eyes flaring and his ears pointing backwards, mirroring hers. “And I cannot lose my sister, Orube.”
Orube blinked. Was this the reason why he was so hesitant, then?
“I don’t want to lose any of my Masters, but first of all I do not want to lose you,” he continued. “And Maut. She would follow you as well, if anything to ensure that she can get killed in your place, if need be.”
Orube’s eyes softened at her brother. Now he looked again like the young man he was, genuinely worried for his sisters. “Nobody will get killed,” said Orube, lowering her tone. “Phobos does not expect us, and we will have our weapons. And Cedric and the Guardians of Kandrakar will be there, using magic.”
Acheri locked gaze with her and stilled for a few moments. He sighed, then. “I will think about it,” he conceded, then looked at the door behind Orube, raising his tone to be heard from the other side. “How long have you been eavesdropping, Shoshan?”
Orube could hear someone gasping behind the door.
Acheri looked at her again, shaking his head. “I really don’t know what to do with that little pest,” he said, though Orube could see the glimpse of a smile curving the corners of his mouth.
The door opened behind her, and she turned to see Shoshan shyly coming forward, her head bowed as if expecting a punishment.
Acheri walked around the table and went towards his apprentice, painting a stern look on his young face. “You and I will have a long chat about discipline.”
“Yes, Master,” Shoshan murmured, keeping her gaze down.
“And for the record, you are not going anywhere, so don’t start fantasizing about Metamoor.”
“Yes, Master,” the girl repeated.
Orube could not suppress a smile, seeing her brother acting so serious and inflexible with a girl who was nothing but a perfect replica of himself when he was her age. “I’ll leave you to your discipline talk,” she said, heading towards the door. “And listen to your Master, Shoshan, he knows everything about discipline,” she teased, making Acheri roll his eyes, before leaving the council room.
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Chapter 13: 13
Chapter Text
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“Damn it, these things can shapeshift…” Caleb muttered, taking his dagger from his belt.
“Of course they do, genius, I made them,” commented Cedric through clenched teeth. He didn’t have any weapons with him but trusted he wouldn’t need them. That was why he was there in the first place, after all: to take control of those monsters and avoid bloodshed.
The two Annihilators advanced toward them threateningly. Cedric closed his eyes and searched for their magic aura. He had no difficulty finding it, as there was nobody around with a strong magic aura except Caleb, and there was definitely nobody close by with an aura so similar to his own.
“We don’t have the whole night…” he heard Caleb saying next to him.
Cedric clenched his jaw and tried to ignore him. With his mind, he extended his hands toward the magic aura of the two Annihilators.
Stop, he ordered them with his thought.
Their aura kept coming closer. The hands in his mind transformed into claws and grabbed the center of their magic sphere.
I SAID STOP.
And then they did.
Cedric reopened his eyes and saw the two Annihilators standing still a few paces from him and Caleb.
You will answer to me now, Cedric ordered them.
The two Annihilators bowed their heads.
Creator, they said to his mind in unison.
“That did not go so bad as expe-” Caleb started, but he had to stop mid-sentence, as other shapes emerged from the dark and came into their field of vision.
More of them. At least a dozen.
“Shit, can you do it again?” Caleb asked, while the sound of steps and the clang of metal behind them suggested that the other Meridian soldiers were starting to react as well.
“This will take longer - you have to cover me,” said Cedric. Caleb ordered the other soldiers who were gathering around them to be ready and form a line of defense. Lights started to come from the village, a sign that the villagers had heard the noise and were starting to wonder what was going on. Cedric closed his eyes again, reaching out with his mind to the new Annihilators that were approaching.
Again, he extended claws toward them, two at a time, and ordered them to stop, like he’d done with the first two.
The first two froze in place, obeying his command. He quickly switched to the next two who were approaching behind them.
Don’t come closer, he ordered.
One did. The other one… did not.
STOP.
They are our brothers, Cedric heard a raspy voice in his head. One of the first two creatures he blocked was talking to him. But you are not their Creator.
Dread pooled in Cedric’s core. He did not have time to ask the Annihilator what it meant, and how many of their brothers were not his creatures, because one of them launched forward, giving the signal to the others to follow.
Cedric opened his eyes and saw flashes of swords cutting the air, clashing against what looked like spears but actually were… the Annihilators’ own arms, turned into deadly weapons.
Fight with us, kill your brothers, Cedric ordered the five he got control of. They obeyed, turning their backs to Caleb and the other soldiers and fighting back against the other Annihilators.
Cedric backed, letting the soldiers form a wall between him and the other creatures, and closed his eyes again, searching. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but he tried to focus on perceiving differences in the auras of the creatures.
They were right. He could distinguish two more having the same magic aura as his, but all the others were different. They felt different, and with the eyes of his mind they even looked different. His creatures had an aura that gleamed in different shades of green, whereas the others were blue.
He grasped the minds of those with the green aura, taking control and ordering them to kill their brothers. But the clash of metal and the screams of the soldiers forced him to open his eyes again and look.
“There are more coming!” he heard a soldier shout. More shadows were approaching, another dozen at least. He scanned them, and almost sank to his knees realizing that none of them were his.
Around him, it was chaos. Some soldiers had already fallen, and he could now distinguish only six or seven of them still standing, getting close to each other to form a compact wall against too many Annihilators. Only seven Annihilators were fighting on their side, following Cedric’s orders, while it was now impossible to count how many were pressing against them.
“Are you going to make yourself useful or not?” Caleb shouted next to him. “I thought you could control all of them!”
“I can’t,” Cedric shouted back. “Phobos has created new ones and they do not respond to me.”
Caleb glanced around. He parried a hit from one of the other Annihilators.
“Then do something else, for fuck’s sake!” he barked.
Cedric felt as if his heart would soon explode in his chest. He could only see flashes of people moving, weapons clashing, screams, and the horrible sound of flesh being cut.
There was only one thing he could do before the Annihilators started to use magic to incinerate everyone. It would expose him to the soldiers, but there was no other way.
He inhaled a deep breath, collecting his magic and looking for a specific image in his mind. An image he’d not summoned in a very long time, but that his body somehow craved taking the shape of.
He let his body change shape, letting that image mold his features exactly as he wanted. He felt his body grow double in size, and his legs merge into one powerful snake-like tail.
The surge of power and pride made his head spin. This was his masterpiece - a form no other shapeshifter could ever take. None of the other shapeshifters of Metamoor had ever been able to grow double in size, always taking the form of people and animals of roughly the same size as their native form.
When he opened his eyes, he was looking at the chaos beneath him from above. A growl rumbled from deep inside his chest, and both soldiers and Annihilators stilled for an instant, gaping at the monster that was looming above them.
The naga.
Oh, it felt good to see those astounded faces.
He did not give the Annihilators time to react and adjust to their new enemy, and launched against a group of them, grabbing necks, crushing bodies. The soldiers around him reprised hitting the other Annihilators again, incited by Caleb’s orders and understanding that the monster was on their side.
But Cedric did not even see them anymore, nor did he care. Crushing those Annihilators had unlocked something, something he could feel especially when he took the shape of the naga.
The pleasure of being feared.
Kill your brothers, he ordered again to his seven Annihilators, who followed him like a pack of hunting dogs.
They wiped them out like a crushing wave, taking advantage of their surprise - those creatures definitely did not expect their own kin to revolt against them or a huge naga monster coming after them.
Until there was none left. Cedric halted, his breath quickening into low growls. He wanted to kill more - to strip Phobos of his power, one Annihilator after the other.
“That’s enough, Cedric, they’re gone,” Caleb’s voice was muffled behind the frenzy that clouded his mind. “Kill your creatures, now. We cannot afford the risk of having them around.”
His head snapped at him. “Kill them?” he growled, something in his chest rejoicing at the sound of his monstrous guttural voice. “Don’t you understand how powerful they are, if they fight for us? We need them in our army.”
Caleb looked up at him, a sword in one hand, a dagger in the other, covered in the green ouze of the Annihilators. “I am the General, I know what is better for my army.”
Cedric leaned toward him, showing his fangs in a sneer. “I have commanded these armies since when you were just a sprout, little one. If you want them dead, then kill them yourself if you can.”
The soldiers around Caleb gaped at him with wide eyes, terrified. Gods, how good it felt.
But Caleb did not. His gaze was hard and determined. If he was scared, he was not showing it. He moved a step toward him. “Careful, Cedric. Remember who you serve now.”
“How can I forget?” Cedric hissed. “But having these on our side will make our Queen more powerful. They can tell us where the others are and when they will attack. And we can use them against Phobos, at least as long as he doesn’t know I’m around.”
Caleb stilled, his hard gaze not leaving his.
“Fair enough,” he finally conceded. “We’ll keep these. But now stop terrorizing the village, come back to a normal size and make yourself and your creatures useful in cleaning up this mess.”
Cedric snorted. He glanced around, scanning the terrorized faces of the soldiers and then looked at the entrance to the village, where a group of villagers had gathered and were peering at them trembling like leaves. He loved being terrifying. Why should he stop now that he could do that again?
But Caleb went on, “I know you are not a monster, Cedric,” he said, making him flinch. “Elyon told me everything. I’d have liked to see your head severed from your neck, but I believe my Queen when she says that you’ve changed. And that there’s someone out there who is even capable of loving you. But would your Orube like to see what I’m seeing right now?”
Cedric hesitated, his heartbeat accelerating. Orube accepted him for what he was, naga included. But she would not let him fall into that spiral of darkness ever again, knowing how much he would regret it afterwards.
He slowly let the image of his usual appearance surface in his mind, and with his thought he grabbed his human skin again. Exhaling, he shrank back to his normal height, letting his human mask replace the monster he’d transformed into.
“You’re right, General,” he said quietly, after the transformation was complete. “But I’m still not one of your subjects, at least not until you’ll be married. Until then, I only respond to the Queen.”
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They covered a long distance the next day. Mostly in silence, the soldiers mourning their companions who had fallen the night before, they arrived at the same village where Cedric had spent the first night of his journey. The seven Annihilators traveled with them, using the shapeshifting ability they inherited from Cedric to move disguised as normal soldiers. Their disguise was not as perfect as the one of a real shapeshifter, as a closer look could reveal how their gazes were empty and unfocused. And only three of them were able to speak, while the others were not even able to communicate with Cedric with their minds, only following orders from him or from the three who could speak.
They camped further away from the village this time, instead of staying close to the walls, to make sure that if there was another attack, at least they would not be too dangerously close to the villagers.
Cedric traveled now showing his known face, uncaring of the skeptical looks he received from the soldiers. Nobody had dared speaking to him, and some did not even glance in his direction. Not even Freckles had shown any sign of surprise when he’d approached him wearing a different appearance from that of Dhofrin, and seemed to have no problems recognizing him as his rider of the past days. Another sign that perhaps animals did not buy his illusions and could see beyond his mask.
Caleb had not spoken much with him either, but of course he’d insisted again that he should not leave his sight.
Despite the uncomfortable setting for the night, Cedric was so tired from the day and the night before that he fell asleep almost immediately as soon as everyone had settled down.
He realized he was dreaming when he found himself walking in a room he found familiar, but that took him a while to recognize. There were portraits of women wearing different versions of the crown of light hanging on the dark blue walls, and a large round table made of marble. He’d been there many times before, in the Council room in Meridian. What clearly gave it away as a dream was seeing Orube, Maut, Rehu, and Kilubi sitting at the table, laughing and joking while drinking from the silver goblets typical of the Meridian palace. All except Maut, who of course was not laughing.
“There you are!” Orube told him.
“What a show you’ve put off!” commented Kilubi.
“I bet you could not beat me even in that naga costume of yours,” Rehu teased, raising an eyebrow.
“Says the one who was whining and almost pissing himself from fear until a minute ago,” said Maut, rolling her eyes.
Cedric chuckled, walking toward them, without taking his eyes off Orube. He missed all of them, including Maut and her constant clashing against Rehu, but most of all he missed her. There was so much he had to tell her - starting from his encounter with Lunja two days before, and then the attack, and then just… that he missed her.
Suddenly, all four Basiliade natives stiffened, their gazes shooting at something behind Cedric’s back. He turned to look in that direction, and he felt a weight shifting in his chest, as if he was falling from a height at high speed, before settling again on his feet on the ground.
He was still in the Council room, but the colors now were more intense, and his own body felt solid - more real than before. He glanced back toward the table. Orube and the others had vanished.
Then, footsteps echoed behind him.
Strangely, though not entirely unexpected, he recognized the rhythm of those steps. He closed his eyes, anticipating the figure drawing near.
“Long time no see, my faithful Cedric.”
He drew in a slow breath, then turned to face the voice and the approaching figure - Prince Phobos.
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Chapter 14: 14
Chapter Text
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Orube sat on the floor of her room, nibbling the piece of bread she’d grabbed from the kitchen along with a bowl of soup. She was not in the mood to have supper in the common room with the other Masters.
The conversation with her brother had gone much better than other times - Acheri was at least finally considering the matter. It had surprised her that one of the reasons pushing him to refuse sending them to Metamoor was that he did not want to lose his sisters.
Orube turned up her nose at the thought. Even Acheri, the First Grand Master, seemed to be flawed in his judgment because of his personal affections. Yarr and Raziya were also equally affected by their feelings for the people they lost in the war with Histea. Did this make all of them any less fit as Grand Masters?
Or maybe things did not have to be as they had been before, and accepting feelings and personal affections could actually enrich the way the Grand Masters and the Masters made decisions and supported their people.
She distorted her mouth in a grimace. She did not feel enriched at all by that feeling of emptiness and constant worry caused by Cedric’s absence. It made her weak, and the Grand Masters were also being weak for letting themselves be carried away by their feelings.
“And that’s where you’re wrong, my child,” came a female voice from behind her - so sudden and familiar that Orube startled, her fingers trembling as the piece of bread slipped and fell with a splash into the soup bowl.
Her heart hammered as she slowly turned toward the voice, eyes wide and breath catching in her throat. There, framed by the faint light from the window behind the bed, stood a shimmering white figure. The same proud, strong presence she remembered so vividly. The unmistakable cascade of long white hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back, her arms folded softly across her chest, draped in the light blue Kandrakar robe.
A tight knot formed in Orube’s throat, and tears welled up before she could blink them away.
Master Luba, she thought, her voice caught somewhere between disbelief and yearning.
Her breath hitched as memories rushed forward - the lessons, the quiet guidance, the warmth of a protector she hadn’t seen in years. And the question that had haunted her for so long. Why? Why did she leave her without saying anything?
The room seemed to still around her, and she could not tear her eyes off her Master.
“I decided it was time I paid you a visit,” Luba said, as she glanced around the room. “It took a lot of pressure on the Kandrakar council, but in the end Endarno managed to convince them to let me out for once.”
“I-... I did not know that this was possible…” Orube stuttered, finally finding her voice again.
“Everything is possible to Kandrakar,” Luba said, and walked - or better, floated - toward the wall where Orube’s swords and Cedric’s spear were hanging. The Master studied the weapons, lingering on Cedric’s spear for a while. Orube stood up and cautiously approached the spirit.
“You know, I was very disappointed that you had chosen that Metamoor shapeshifter as your mate,” Luba said, without taking her eyes off the spear. Orube bit her tongue, forcing herself not to answer of course you were.
“But I had to change my mind.” She turned then toward her. “Now, however, I could not stay up there and do nothing while you waste your time like you’re doing now. I had to do something.”
Orube bowed her head. “I know, Master. I’m letting myself be overwhelmed by my feelings. I am disappointed, too, but this will change.”
“Again, you’re wrong, child,” Luba said. “A Master does not ignore feelings. A Master knows how to use them to become stronger and to make the right decisions. That’s what your brother is struggling with right now, but he will figure it out. He is smart and seeks the support he needs. Unlike you.”
Orube blinked. “But… That’s not what you taught me.”
Luba’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Oh, that’s not? I don’t remember ever telling you to shut down your emotions like you’re doing right now. At least not the emotions that cannot be avoided. And I also do not remember ever teaching you not to seek support when you need it.”
Orube crossed her arms at her chest, looking away from her Master. “The emotions I feel right now are weaknesses. They mean I am not able to stay on my own.”
“And who says you should be on your own?” said Luba. “You have found your mate, and now he is far away, probably in danger, and you miss him and are worried for him. It would be strange otherwise. Do you think I was any more cheerful than you are now when I was in your place?”
Orube’s head snapped toward her, eyes wide. “You what?! With whom?” she inquired, then the unwanted image of Endarno crossed her mind in a flash, sending a disgusted grimace to her lips. “You know what, never mind, I don’t want to know,” she said before Luba could answer.
“The point is,” Luba went on, “it is acceptable for a Master to feel what you are feeling right now. What is not acceptable is refusing support, especially when it is offered to you.”
“But I don’t want to mope around and have people pity me,” Orube argued.
“You are moping around, and people will pity you if you continue like this. You have friends, Orube, friends who are willing to come with you to fight for a cause that does not belong to them. Friendship is something that must be honored, and that’s what you’re going to do now by accepting their support,” Luba said, with a tone that forced Orube to look her straight in the eye. “Are we clear?”
Orube bowed her head, clenching her jaw a bit. “Yes, Master.”
“Good,” said Luba, straightening her posture. “I cannot stay any longer, and I will not be able to come back anytime soon.”
Orube raised her gaze up to her Master again. “You won’t?”
“No,” Luba confirmed. She reached out a hand toward Orube’s face, without touching it. For the first time since she’d appeared, a smile surfaced on her dark lips. “He was right, your mate.”
Orube frowned, trying to put the pieces together and understand what she was talking about.
“When he said you were my sun. You should know he was right,” said Luba, moving her hand as if to brush it on Orube’s cheek. Orube closed her eyes, trying to imagine that touch that she could not feel.
“Thank you, Master,” she whispered. When she reopened her eyes, feeling the tears fighting to come out, Luba was gone.
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Orube inhaled a deep breath, standing in front of Maut’s door. She saw the lights coming from inside through the windows, and could hear the chatter and some laughs coming from the other side of the door.
Laughs. From her sister’s house.
She knocked softly, unsure if she was hoping they would not hear it over their laughs, so she could tell herself - or imagine telling Luba - that she tried, but they did not answer the door.
Instead, the chatter quieted, and she heard footsteps coming to the door from inside.
Then the door opened. “It was about time,” her sister said, appearing on the doorstep. Orube could see Rehu and Kilubi sitting at the table in the center of the room behind her, with amused looks on their faces and a glass in their hands.
“To… to what do we drink?” Orube asked.
“We drink in spite of men who leave us here and do not bring us with them to kick stinky Metamoor asses!” said Kilubi from behind Maut.
“Yeah, and I want to see how far he’ll go without me telling him how to move his legs,” blurted Rehu.
Maut lifted a corner of her mouth in a smirk. “See? They miss him, too,” she told Orube, then stepped to the side. “Come in, sister.”
Orube let a soft chuckle escape, shaking her head. The least she would have ever expected was to see that Kilubi and Rehu were missing Cedric as well. She exchanged a look with Maut, silently thanking her for being there, then she entered her home.
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Chapter 15: 15
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
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“What a lovely surprise, to have you pay me a visit!” Phobos said, advancing towards Cedric.
Cedric was not sure anymore if what he was seeing was real or still part of a dream. He somehow knew he was asleep, but at the same time the room now looked so vivid, and Phobos’s features also looked so sharp and defined, that it was like really being in front of him.
“How many of them did you create on your own?” Cedric asked, ignoring the fake pleasantries.
Phobos widened his arms, smiling. “You don’t even comment on how splendid I look?” he said. “I’m here in my best shape, and all you want to talk about is work?”
Cedric clenched his jaw. “I do not work for you anymore.”
Phobos clicked his tongue. “You mean you don’t work for me yet. You will soon understand that I am your only choice. I have always been.”
Phobos stopped a few steps from Cedric, scanning him from head to toe with his gaze. “And you look great as well, I must say - that Basiliade touch looks surprisingly good on you.”
Cedric snorted, impatient.
“Alright, alright,” Phobos said, heading towards the wall against which the portraits of the past Queens were hanging. “You want to see the army? Then you’ll get to see the army,” he said, then made a gesture with his hand, waving it in front of the first painting, and then started walking along the wall, making the same gesture in front of each one.
The image of the first painting shifted, the oil paint defining the first Escanor queen whirling in a vortex and then expanding again, showing now a field onto which rows of Annihilators standing next to each other waited for orders.
As Phobos walked in front of each painting, each Queen shifted and showed another piece of that field, with more Annihilators.
“Almost ten thousand, my friend,” Phobos gloated, reaching the second to last painting, the one showing the Queen Mother. “You created about five thousand for me, but I found another source of enchanted water in Idier, and used it to create the rest using my own precious blood.”
Cedric gaped at the paintings showing the Annihilators. One of them could likely overcome at least five soldiers of Elyon’s army. And as far as he knew, Meridian’s army was not more than three thousand soldiers in periods of peace. Even if the other cities joined her and she recruited more people, they would not have more than fifteen thousand. And he could not control more Annihilators than those he’d created.
Metamoor was screwed.
“Where are you keeping them?” Cedric asked.
Phobos lingered in front of the painting of his mother. “I have friends, too, you know. And there is a lot of empty land east to those friends of mine,” he said, then with a wave of his hand he turned the painting into the last bit of the field where his army stood. He moved then to the last one, Elyon’s portrait.
East? Cedric wondered. Was he talking about Grendal? “Why this decoy in Idier? With that army, and using the ones that can shapeshift, you could have killed Elyon already,” Cedric said, looking at Elyon’s portrait as well from behind Phobos.
“I know, of course,” Phobos said, without turning. “But I don’t want to kill my sister. I want her on our side.”
On our side.
Phobos was already taking for granted that Cedric would switch sides again. He distorted his mouth in a grimace.
“We want the same things, my sister and I,” Phobos said, finally turning again to face Cedric. “Only she does not want to admit it. But she will yield and pledge her loyalty to me. Just like you will.”
“You’re delusional,” Cedric blurted.
Phobos laughed, then walked towards the table. “Perhaps I am, but I know I’m right,” he said, then leaned against the table, glancing at his hands adorned with rings and at his nails, faking carelessness. “You know, I found out you can learn many things by just talking to people.”
Dread started to pool in Cedric’s stomach at those words. He said nothing.
“For example, I have learned that there are worlds with huge sources of magic that the inhabitants do not use, and that could make us become more powerful and take what we deserve.”
Cedric swallowed. What is he talking about? “You’re not… aiming at Metamoor?”
Phobos leaned on his palms against the table. “Of course I do, but that’s an easy target, once my sister decides to collaborate. But I - or better, we - want Kandrakar, and for that, the crown of light is not enough, as you know well.”
Cedric clenched his fists at his sides. He dreaded where this conversation was heading to.
“You know what else I’ve learned?” Phobos went on. “That Basiliade has an even bigger source of magic than Histea, and that they have weapons that resist magic. My first target was Histea, but then I thought - why not pay a visit to Cedric’s friends first?”
Cedric’s heart thundered in his chest. He made an effort to control his breath, trying not to show the panic that was starting to overwhelm him.
Phobos picked at his nails again. “Of course, to honor our friendship I may decide to be kind to your friends and to your woman, if she does not bite.” Then he glanced at him again. “Oh, I also learned that you managed to actually not screw up your relationship, for once. That was quite the surprise indeed.”
How does he know all this? Cedric wondered, trying to put pieces together. But Phobos went on, giving him the answer. “Did you know that if you cut a finger from a shapeshifter in their native form, they cannot grow it back? I’d recommend you to take very good care of all your limbs, my friend…”
Cedric clenched his jaw, closing his eyes for a moment. Morven. Phobos must have captured him and tortured him to get answers on what he was doing for the Queen. He could only barely imagine the level of torture Morven had endured, if in the end he’d yielded and shown himself in his bare form. And now he would be marked forever with that distinctive sign, regardless which form he would take.
“What do you want from me, Phobos?” he asked finally.
Phobos stood up again, leaving the table. “I thought I made it clear already. I want you, back by my side, where you belong. You, me, and my sister together, with my army at our disposal, are powerful enough to take control of one world after the other, until only Kandrakar is left. And then we’ll take that too. You will be one of the most powerful men in the whole universe. Be by my side, as you’ve always been.”
A painful déjà-vu crossed Cedric’s mind at Phobos’s offer of giving him power. He had yielded back then, letting his promise of power seduce him. But back then he had nothing else, nothing better in his life than the prospect of being Phobos’s right arm and the illusion of being someone that everyone would fear. And even though he would never have admitted it at the time, he had desperately hoped that their connection might grow into something different - something more than just a mutual use of each other, as it eventually turned out to be.
Now he did have something in his life he deeply cared for and it was much better than the deep pit of darkness Phobos would drag him into. He narrowed his eyes to two slits. “And what about Orube?”
“Well, I’m willing to let you keep your kitten, if that’s what you want. Of course, if you do not accept my offer, it will be difficult for me to handle that planet of angry tigers with diplomacy, so I might have to take a different approach.”
A knot clenched Cedric’s throat at the second threat to Basiliade. There were no doubts anymore - Phobos was aiming at the planet, and would crush the inhabitants with his army unless Cedric was willing to switch to his side. And even then, knowing Phobos, there was still a risk that he would go back on his word. Phobos was jealous, that much was clear, and he would take the first opportunity to do something that would push Orube away.
“But anyway,” Phobos continued, moving a step towards him, “what is it that you see in her, after all? Is she really so important, that you would choose her over me? What is she as compared to me, the only friend you ever had here within these walls?”
Cedric made an effort to remain impassive. So many wrong things in one single sentence. Phobos clearly had a distorted view of what happened within those walls. There had been many things between them, but none of that was true friendship or love. It frustrated him how Phobos still forcibly ignored that if he ever had a friend, that was Vathek. Vathek was the one who had kept him company for all those years, and he was the one standing by his side against the other kids who tortured him while Phobos pretended not to see. Phobos had been a lot of things to him - his Commander, his lust, his addiction, his poison. But not a true friend.
He quickly considered the facts and his options. Phobos had a huge army of Annihilators which outnumbered the armies of all cities of Metamoor. Even if Cedric could control some of them, there would still be too many - especially if it was true that the other cities did not want to support Elyon.
At Phobos’s impatient look, he realized he had to gain some time so that he could think and make a choice.
“We have known each other for a very long time, you’re right,” he said.
Phobos chuckled. “Oh yes. Remember that time we ruined the oath ceremony? That was priceless,” he said, then went on rambling about how great the fireworks were.
Cedric tried to ignore the fact that it had been Phobos alone to ruin the oath ceremony, and used the time he was speaking and reminiscing about the pranks they used to pull on the algebra master to consider what to do.
If he did not accept, Phobos would probably either finish breaking Elyon until she pledged her loyalty to him, or take the crown with brute force using his army, and then aim at Basiliade. Cedric had no idea what would happen to him - perhaps he would die, or perhaps he would be thrown in a dungeon, but he was certain that for the Basiliade inhabitants there would be no chance, unless someone with more power than the crown of light intervened. Vathek and the Galahots were a gamble, and there was no guarantee that Kandrakar would act fast enough to save Basiliade.
If he accepted, he would be on the winning side for once, and the risk of Phobos attacking Basiliade and harming its inhabitants would be lower. But he would lose the trust it had taken him so long to earn, revealing his double face once again. His stomach twisted at the idea of working for Phobos again. He could do that to Metamoor and to Elyon, if he was forced to. He could go against Kandrakar. Hell, he would be even glad to do something to piss Kandrakar off. But could he do this to Orube? Even if it was only to save her and her planet?
“What would be your first order?” he asked.
Phobos’s eyes lit. “So you accept my offer?”
“I never said that. I only ask what do you want from me.”
Phobos chuckled sinisterly. “It would be unwise from my side to reveal my orders without you swearing loyalty to me first.”
Cedric bit his lower lip. It was time to make his choice. But did it really have to be one or the other?
“I am bound to the Light of Meridian, and you know it. I do not need to pledge my loyalty, as I am obliged to follow the orders of who wears the crown. And it’s clear you will have it on your head soon,” he lied, hoping that Phobos’s lack of interest in the effects of the Queen’s blessing meant that he did not know that the binding spell only passed to the legitimate heir to the throne. Or that perhaps he still believed he was the legitimate heir.
Phobos smiled, that sinister light in his eyes sending a chill down Cedric’s spine. He took another step closer, now standing dangerously within arm’s reach. Cedric’s body tensed involuntarily. Phobos raised his hand slowly, fingers hovering just at the height of Cedric’s chest, tracing an almost intimate path - but then stopped. His grin deepened as he deliberately smoothed a crease in Cedric’s tunic, the touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. “Then, bring me the General. Dead or alive.”
⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⚔︎
Notes:
You made it to the end again! Thank you so much for staying with this story. I hope it did not disappoint and that you will come back for part III, to see what Cedric is up to.
If you liked this story, I would love to hear from you! You can always leave a comment here anytime, it always makes my day!
If you missed the one-shot about a flashback on Cedric and Phobos, you can read “What Loyalty Means” while you wait for part III!
See you in part III :)
Babblecat3000 on Chapter 1 Mon 14 Oct 2024 04:36PM UTC
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Fraowl99 on Chapter 7 Sun 18 Feb 2024 01:21PM UTC
Last Edited Sun 18 Feb 2024 01:22PM UTC
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Last Edited Mon 19 Feb 2024 08:24AM UTC
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