The Legend of Lost Aulta

2. It Is Still A Heart

FELIKS

Feliks left the throne room, paying no heed to the guards behind him, his father, or anyone who may have wanted to stop him. All he could see was his home, being ripped away and torn to pieces by the awful demon Vorig Sponik.

All he could see was his brother, finally returning his home to find no-one he knew. No-one he loved. Nothing left.

Tears clouding his vision, and his chest heaving, the Tsarevich took a seat at the bottom of the marble stairs, clutching his chest. His heart aching, his body doubled over as his breathing shuttered. The marble floor began to twist in a colourful kaleidoscope as he began to face the thought of leaving his home, his kingdom.

Leaving the gaze of his mother as she was left to watch over the demons who had stolen her blessed land.

"Feliks?"

Feliks looked up, his breathing ragged and his eyes stinging with water. Ahead of him, he saw the distorted shape of a blonde-haired girl, her pointed ears poking through the strands. She rumpled through layers of lace petticoats before taking her seat, carelessly, on the marbled step beside him.

"You are vexed," she said, simply. Her eyes were smiling but detached, that familiar blue that he knew so well. The Tsarevich shook his head.

"I can't... I can't stand it," he heaved, clutching his chest. His body was weak, and his legs felt numb. He was used to this feeling, the feeling of his half-human body giving up on him, "I can't stand being here, and being unable to do anything."

"It isn't your fault, solnishko," whispered Yulia, her eyes soft, "there is nothing you can do to prevent this."

"But there should be!" he cried, "I should be more than I am! I am meant to be a warrior. I am meant to be a Demi-god. But I am not. I am a failure. And thanks to me, there is no-one to save our Aulitia. There is no-one to save us."

"That is not your fault," said the Tsarevna.

"But it is," he whispered, "if I had been able to fight with my brother, then maybe... maybe we'd both still be here. Maybe I would be more than I am. Maybe..."

"Dimitri would not be the Lost Tsarevich."

There was a silence. The air was suspended, heavy like fog, and Feliks took another heaving breath. He stared at the marble floor as it spun, willing his tears away.

"Your brother is not lost," Yulia rested a hand on Feliks' frail, shaking one, and she smiled, "he is in everything. He is in the strongest of our soldiers, the wildest winds, he is in you. He is in the stories that our people tell by firelight. I hear the whispers in the halls; the stories of the servants. They speak of him. Nash Geroy. They believe he will come back for us. That he will find a way. To defeat the Olos army, and return here."

"But those are just stories," choked out Feliks, his throat tight with a sob.

"But he is a Demi-god," smiled Yulia.

"So was I."

There was a silence.

"Well, the people are calling out for a hero," said Yulia, quietly, "and I only know of one Demi-god."

"We don't know him, not as he is now," murmured the Tsarevich, "what... what if he is like me? What if... what if he has lost his strength?"

Yulia shrugged, and she smiled, "well, if he is anything like you, he is a good man. Strong despite everything."

Feliks thought for a moment, and suddenly he was propelled back into a memory, blurry and smudged with the old stains of time. He was in a room, a room big enough for two- two beds, two mirrors, two bay windows. And there were two boys, standing in their nightclothes, fists raised. One fought. One fell. One became a myth. One became nothing.