Hexe - The Great Exodus

[CH. 0014] - The Uncrowded King

In my reign, as I burn over land, sea, and sky, I choose to be the Sun that fosters life, seeds stories and harvests the perpetual pursuit of happiness. I do not wish to scorch such world. However, I am power! And power is power, and it is neither good nor evil, it is what it is-power! — the Summerqueen, quote of the coronation official speech. XXXXIV Winter - XXII Summer

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In the vastness of the throne room, where opulent columns kissed the heights, Jaer's gaze roved uneasily over the assembly. The diverse menagerie of creatures, each species with its own mark of status or power, unsettled him with their morbid eagerness for the spectacle to come.

He stood there, a lone tiefling among the crowd, concerned with his Commander and but mostly friend. He hadn't spoken to Yeso since their arrival.

Without warning, Jaer was startled by a hand alighted on his shoulder, feather-light yet laden with intent. His pulse quickened already before he turned to face the owner of those discerning emerald eyes and ash-hued skin.

There stood the Elven King, Finnegan Berdorf, a vision that could arrest the hearts of women and men who beheld him. He embodied an allure that transcended the stark boundaries between fear and desire.

"Your Highness," Jaer managed, his voice a strained murmur as he fought the urge to drown in the depths of Finnegan's gaze.

The Elven king leaned in close, his breath a whisper that caressed Jaer's ear. "Why didn't you come to my chambers last night?"

The words, dipped in honeyed tones, soured within Jaer's mouth. He turned to meet the elf's scrutinizing stare. "I came to accompany my Commander, and as you can see, my mind is preoccupied with other priorities," he stated with a stoic firmness.

Finnegan's eyes sparkled with mischief, a silent laughter at some private jest. "Well, perhaps later then. I heard he is not returning as early as you might think."

Jaer's brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you'll see. Who am I to spoil the fun?" Finnegan's words were a veiled omen wrapped in velvet. With a promise as enigmatic as it was unsettling, he added, "I'll console you tonight. I'll be gentle, I promise."

And with the grace of autumn leaves, the Elven king departed from Jaer's side. The court's whispers died as a hush blanketed the throng, and a regality seemed to carve through the thick air.

The Fallqueen claimed her throne, her black tunic trailing like the shadows of twilight. Her crown, a halo of crafted autumn leaves, rested upon her dark locks, framing her face with a symbolic echo of her dominion.

The twins followed her and sat by her side—Fiorna, the Spring on the left and Fiona, the Winter on the right.

Silence commanded the court as a white-robed officer, golden embroidery catching the eyes of all, stepped forward with a scroll that seemed a mere prop in his hands. His voice boomed.

"On this day, in the court of Herbstdame Veilla Mageschstea, we convene to sentence Yeso Sternacht for conspiracy and disobedience against the Herbstdame. His sentence: to bear the shame of shorn hair."

A collective gasp rippled through the assemblage, punctuated by murmurs. Hair, the pride of any Menschen lineage, symbolized their standing and power. The longer the hair, the more respect they had in their ranks. For a Magi who couldn't braid its hair, it was a humiliation without words.

Jaer's gaze pierced through the crowd, landing on the forlorn sight of his friend Yeso. He watched, heart, lurching, as the servant's shears mangled what once was a mane of starlit threads. Each snip and rip echoed like a verdict in Jaer's ears. The finality of the falling lock, glinting with as starlight even in its severed state, was brandished before the crowd—a triumph in their eyes, a grievous wound in his.