The Heretic of Sælonis ||A Sci-Fi Romance Novella||

as you command

It had been two months since Sethes fell to pieces. Two months since I carried Nierhæ's unconscious body to my ship and took us a safe distance from the crumbling planet. Two months since I made it to the ship Vyrekne had commandeered to save innocent Sethesians, and those who were never a part of the regime.

Reaching Laurælia had been the first point of call. They would know how to wake Nierhæ, and how to heal her body. While she'd been intact, and herself again, there were golden fractures that ran along her skin as if the Aura itself held her together.

The last two months I'd been by her side as healers stood by her day and night, siphoning off the Aura that clung to her with talons so sharp they threatened to tear her to pieces as they were eradicated. As they tried to explain to me, it was the thing holding her together, but it was also what continued to damage her.

She'd woken three days ago, weak but herself. A recovery plan had been made, and it began with leaving the Aura untouched until she could walk by herself. But with her awake, that meant I had to turn my attention to other matters.

Such as the duel I needed to complete in order to become the Mertonian King—a leader for the revolution to work in tandem with the Sælonian Chosen.

So I stood in the ring, surrounded by a crowd of two hundred witnesses, as one of the other Mertonian Huntsmen stared at me, a smirk on their face. Her name was Xeluk, or at least that's the one Sethes had bestowed upon her. Her true name had been lost to her memories, but maybe one day it would come back.

"Don't take it easy on me," I told her, pointing my sword towards her. As was traditional in Mertonian culture, a duel was to take place with ceremonial weapons designed to be non-lethal, but unfortunately, they'd all been destroyed. Instead, we had opted for black swords, covered in a layer of Aura that dulled the edges enough to prevent death but not enough to prevent pain.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she replied, the smirk on her face still present. Of the five other Mertonians, she'd been the only one to present herself for a duel. I knew she wouldn't take it easy on me, because while I might be the Fifth Heir, the winner of this duel would be the leader of our people.

I just hoped there were more than the six of us, and that they were scattered across the universe in safe places to survive. Maybe we could find them and begin our culture anew...

I spared a look to Nierhæ as the crowd began to countdown for our fight to begin.

She sat in a wheelchair, wearing her armour and a black circlet on her head. Her hair was tied back, but her fringe still covered her eyes, reaching the tip of her nose and brushing her cheekbones. Vyrekne stood guard next to her—not just as her protection, but as her eyes while my betrothed couldn't reach out to the Aura.

Vy leaned down and spoke into Nierhæ's ear, probably to let her know I had looked in her direction. A gentle smile played on her pale lips and I pushed my mind out to touch hers. The warmth that flooded me at her mental presence was something I had yet to become used to, but I never wanted to. If I became used to it, then I would take it for granted... I could never take her for granted.

Do you want me to wish you luck, Delivery Boy? Her thoughts were clear and concise, but she couldn't hide the flood of entertainment she felt at the words. Because I won't.

I didn't expect you to. I smiled as I readied my grip on the sword. But maybe a kind word wouldn't go astray, or perhaps a motivational speech.

She shook her head. I don't know about kind words, but I could say that I could only be with the Mertonian King or Queen, so if you lose to Xeluk then she's going to have to be my betrothed from the second you secede. Well, if that didn't motivate me to win... How was that for a motivational speech?

I laughed and turned my eyes back to Xeluk, who seemed like she'd waited for this moment her entire life.

I thought love was meant to be unconditional.

Nierhæ's laugh echoed over the ring, and the gentle sound made me smile. I'm afraid to tell you it's extremely conditional. Now go and win this duel in my honour, Delivery Boy.

I spun the sword around in my hand as the countdown finished and silence filled the arena.

As you command, Little Chosen.