Royle sat up, dazed.
What was that?
Just like in all the other visions or dreams that portrayed that day, he couldn't hear or remember the Robed One's final words to him. It was like trying to discern a whisper of the leaves on the forest floor.
Despite his curiosity, he hadn't thought upon the Robed One's words except when it pervaded his dreams. It hadn't done so for a while now. Then again, it didn't matter anyway, he messed everything up eventually.
Much like everything else in life.
And suddenly deep within him, despite the currents of helplessness and despair he felt it. A branch he could cling on to and avoid being swept away. A spark of something. A spark of hope.
Impossible. That went down with the ship.
He surveyed the deserted scene of stone.
Incredulously, he heard men running. The spark within him blazed alight. Casting down all solitary walls with its purity. Other High Lord guards were sprinting down the street, faces of desperation and legs fatigued.
Grant. Liroi. Nethan. Riain.
Just as Royle was about to call out to them, his smile vanished.
They were running away from the palace.
NO. NO. NO.
Royle screamed, a guttural cry.
"BASTARDS! HELP HIM!" he shrieked, eyes wide in horror. "WHAT ABOUT YOUR DUTY!" Royle faltered.
He saw one of them slow.
Please.
He turned, a vague silhouette in the growing shadows.
Grant.
He continued running.
Royle sank to his knees. Hands up, pleading against the oppressing blanket of dawning night.
What was I going to do anyway? Save him?
The hope that had sparked the fire was dead, but the flame of fiery hatred swelled, causing a throbbing within his head.
Deep within him, something whispered.
A voice. A voice he had not heard for 7 years.
He slightly straightened and was alarmed to find the roaring wrath of red-hot fury had vanished. In its place was a calmness, a quietude descending upon him like a wave of ice cold water on a hot day.
What is the only thing that a man has left when he falls?
Royle knew the answer.
The ability to pick himself up again.
Royle darted for the palace.
YOU ARE READING
Robed One
FantasyThis is a short story of just 2300 words. Is the objective of life to survive until death? Is it something more? Conflicting emotions, despair and isolation have all driven Royle to question such things. In a time where others abandon their duty, wi...
