In the end, we wrapped his chest in an attempt to protect his broken ribs, he was bound to wake up sometime during the night so we were sure to barricade the door, and despite my repeated worries that just wrapping bandages around his middle wouldn't do enough, Sylvian reasoned they would heal in a couple of days- a perk of being an elf I guess-
With how late it was becoming he figured it would be safer for me to stay the night instead of getting home, he jokingly added he wasn't going to drop me off at the apartment while I was sleeping this time around.
While he was busy cleaning the shattered remains of the mug I'd dropped before pulling out blankets and situating the couch for my overnight stay, my eyes caught hold again of the massive painting above the fireplace. I hadn't really taken the time to look at its contents when I was first here, only registering it was there and that was that. But upon closer inspection, I could now see what looked to be a family portrait.
Two towering figures of an elf king and queen stood proud in the back of the picture, the woman was thin and pristine with a cascade of snow-white hair falling nearly to the floor, staring ahead with a gentle smile, looking similar in the face to the elf I knew.
The man to her left appeared rigid and stiff, a full salt and pepper beard dotted his face and a large crown stood perched on his head, dark brown feathers dotted his cheeks and ears. He looked to be holding a heavy sword in one hand and his wife's hand daintily in the other.
The couple looked nothing short of giants towering over two young boys, dressed in some mock equivalent of armor, one of the figures a smiling white-haired Sylvian and the other stood warped and raised on the canvas: a young-faced, very familiar black-haired kid-
"Is that-" I broke off, catching Sylvian's grim nod out of the corner of my eye.
"Yeah," his voice was tight, following my eyes to the painted figure posing alongside Noah, a young Thalias stood with them, just as tall as Sylvian, maybe an inch taller.
"I stole this from the palace before I left," he spoke stepping to the foot of the painting, and after a moment's silence, pale fingers going up to trace the rough painted edges of his brother's figure, "they'd already painted over him well before but-" he paused, swallowing, "it felt wrong to leave him out of the picture."
"You painted him back," I whispered to myself, Noah's ears twitching at my voice and he turned around to face me again, his smile, despite still being a soft one, was littered with a pang of deep sadness, something I didn't think I'd ever seen in his expression before.
"What happened to get you two into this mess?" I asked, nearly whispered, almost too hesitant to even want to know.
He turned to look at me after I'd spoken the question before approaching back to sitting on the floor at my feet, reminding me of an earlier time when he bandaged up my bleeding hand-
He looked up at me with glinting eyes, "Would it be too cliché to say there's a prophecy?"
I quirked my brows at that, "Not unless it's legit."
He laughed at that, the sound devoid of life and tight in his throat before he spoke:
"One daybreak of new, Light and shadow bend. Crow will fall to lark, a kingdom's fate to mend."
I blinked, "That doesn't sound good."
"It isn't," he agreed, looking to the ground. "That prophecy's been around long before we were born, though this is only the ending verse, it warns of the falling of kingdoms at the birth of two brothers."
My eyes widened, "You and Thalias?"
He swallowed hard, nodding, "When I said I understood what it was like to have no control over your own future, I meant it. Thalias was born two years before me, he had a future to look to and a life as king. Then I was born and everything was perfect."
"Then what happened?"
He looked to his fingers, fidgeting with them for a moment before continuing, "When you're born into the royal family, you are born with a gift to take the form of a bird. Father was an eagle and he took pride in teaching Thalias the ways of mastering his power before it surfaced within him, even after he passed the age he was meant to develop his.
"We were out playing in the gardens when it happened," the elf's eyes grew glassy as if reliving that moment in his head- "He was fifteen. Thalias called on his power for the first time and the next thing I know he's flying in the air as a crow and mother is grabbing to pull me inside as quick as she dared."
I sucked in a breath as Sylvian was shaking his head, in frustration with himself. "Even without that prophecy, crows are a sign of misfortune and bad luck, the prophets took his bird form as a sign the age of the prophecy was upon us and he was banished here-" he said gesturing to the air around us, and the view of the city from the massive window. "-In the hope he wouldn't doom the entire kingdom."
"Did it work?" I asked tentatively.
Sylvian shook his head, "No, we were hit with famine and disease in the years following. Mother died and-" he broke off, covering his mouth for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing, "-and father grew cold, only training me to the bone how to defend myself for the time I would have to face Thalias again."
"So, how did you end up here?" I asked.
"Left," he said simply, arm going up to grip his injured shoulder for a moment or two before letting his hand fall limply to his lap again. "I couldn't stand how much father avoided me as his son as much as he prided me in killing his eldest that I left." He gestured back to the painting behind him, "That was the only thing I took with me," he snorted to himself, looking down at his lap, "I thought it was some genius way to rebel when I stole it, but now it just reminds me of home."
"Sylvian," I breathed, placing a hand on his shoulder and he looked over at it, not wanting to meet my eyes.
"I left when father was trying to get me to marry," he continued, looking back to the ground, "he made me swear to him I would be wed before I took the throne." He shrugged my hand off and looked at me, "If I can't keep any promise to him I want to at least meet that."
I smiled, the gesture strained on my lips, "I understand-"
"But wait," I added, thoughts churning and smile dropping, "the prophecy only says you have to fight each other I said, recalling the words he'd spoken earlier, it can't mean-"
Sylvian was already slowly shaking his head and looking back up at me, his expression one of grimaced pain.
"One of us has to die."
YOU ARE READING
Daybreak
Fantasy"What are you?" There's a secret he's hiding. So little is known about this strange man Bree stumbles across in the midst of a high-end art gallery. He seems respectable enough, massive penthouse and dreamy green eyes, every inch of him screams wea...