A Dance of Ruin | ONC 2024

Chapter Four

How was someone meant to find an assistant of death? Especially when the only hint he left behind was as useless as a sword forged from smoke.

Search for the darkness that has always been in this kingdom.

That could mean so many things. Was it a metaphorical darkness to signify an area overflowing with crime? A place bathed in shadow? Or had Fenik referred to something related to the Draxinites?

Sighing inwardly, I continued to walk around Wrosite's city centre. If he truly wanted my help, he wouldn't have made this so difficult.

Placed upon the gentle slope of a hill with ragged cliff faces protecting the castle at the top, the city had the perfect vantage to defend itself. From the plaza sat snuggly in front of the castle gates, I could see several streets branching off into the distance, winding homes for countless shops. Even an outline of the convent could be seen faintly in the distance.

In the centre of the plaza stood a towering statue of the Gods. Not all of them could be carved into the ancient stone, but the most popularly worshipped ones had found their way to gaze upon the people of Wrosite. The Goddess of Nature sat cross-legged at the bottom. Vines climbed up the dais of the statue and wrapped around her arms, reaching up until they claimed her curved horns too. Kneeling beside her was the God of Fire, opening his palms up to the sky to offer a powerful flame. The Goddess of Water floated on the opposite side, seagrass and bubbles keeping her steady.

The Gods of Life and Death stood back to back behind the rest. Life held a pendant in her hands, kindred to the one around my own neck, as she clutched it to her chest. I knew that if it wasn't a carving, the necklace would pulse with unimaginable light magic. Death hid his appearance under the guise of a hooded cloak. One hand was clenched tightly into a fist while the other gripped a scythe, the arched blade ready to cut anyone who dared to cross his path.

Where the darkness has always been in this kingdom.

The carving of Death looked to the cliffs and hills surrounding Wrosite, ones that stretched higher than the city itself and provided an extra blanket of security. Nested between the rocks were old ruins that the guards used to train in before they gave up, preferring the facilities in the castle. Their reasoning was something about preserving the history and traditions of the royals, but nobody knew the finer details. The ruins were surrounded by cliff faces so the sun could only crave to touch it one day.

Could that be what Fenik meant? I doubted a shaded area under a tree that had stood against the trials of time or an alley that reeked of urine was what fit his vague, ominous description. It was all I had so far.

Murmuring a quick prayer to the Goddess of Life, I left and made my way to the city entrance where farmers were unloading their carts of crops into market stalls. One offered me a ride to the base of the mountain as he passed it on his journey home. After that, I was faced with the challenge of making my way up.

A few stairs stuck out of the steep hill, most of them crumbled or hidden from time and use. It was an arduous task that made me wish I had worn gloves, but I eventually reached the top completely breathless.

Scattered around the area were rocks stacked upon each other — the remains of some of the first houses of Wrosite. Walls that had fallen over, a well that was now merely a rain-filled hole in the ground, gravel paths that had been consumed by weeds — all of it was a memory of what once was. The only thing that had been preserved was a stone circle in the centre with golden embellishments chiselled into it.

If this was where assistants of Death were meant to be, I had a hard time believing it. Not a soul was in sight.

"Hello?" I called out, the sound echoing around me. "Fenik!" If an aimlessly wandering tourist happened to be around the corner and saw me yelling at nobody like a lunatic, I pledged to myself that I would hibernate in the convent for the rest of eternity.