The Exiled King | ✔

Chapter 14 - The Martyr's Heir

Eryian stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was unruly and longer than he usually kept it and his eyes looked almost black in the dim room. He wore a long black tunic with silver embroidery across the chest.

Eryian looked at his reflection a moment longer, then changed the colour of his tunic to a deep emerald green with a thought and a spark of mana. He conjured a dark green hair tie and tied back his wavy auburn hair, then paused for a moment before conjuring a cape like the one Garyth's true form had worn around his shoulders. The warmth and weight of the cape felt almost like he was still there with Eryian. Eryian gripped the cape a little tighter and glanced back at the mirror. He turned to leave, but then paused and looked back and turned the cape black.

Eryian strode over to the door of the room and tried the handle, not surprised to find it did not budge. They had not spared on the luxurious room for him, but clearly they did not trust him fully.

Not that it mattered to Eryian.

He sent a jolt of mana through the keyhole and was out of the room in mere moments. There were no guards and the hallway was silent, though that was not unusual given the time of night it was.

What am I even doing out here? Eryian thought.

Should I just... leave?

There's nothing stopping me...

He felt shivers run up his spine as shadows billowed out from under the gaps in the door to Lirya's room.

Well, there's one person stopping me, He thought as he sped over to her room and pushed aside his other thoughts and slammed open her door.

As he took into his arms and comforted her, a fierce sense of protectiveness rose up within him.

She's all I have left now.

Master knew she'd be strong... stronger than him.

The thought of Garyth Herus brought an uncomfortable stuffy feeling in his chest that Eryian greatly disliked.

Grieving is for the weak, He admonished himself, I'll make him proud by taking up his mantle.

So what if he doesn't want to rule over Dargon? I'm his heir... I'll save this damn world like he wanted.

His determination overshadowed the tiny corner of his heart that ached at every thought of his mentor.

Emotions were for the weak. The world did not cater to the emotions of the weak. Lirya was an anomaly to this logic, for her mind was weak, yet her powers strong. She had the potential to become a powerful weapon and perhaps that was what his Master had intended from the beginning.

She trusted him fully... but if it came to it, would she choose him or the other guardians?

It had to be him.

He'd seen the fierce and self-depreciating loyalty that the Guardian bond fostered among the other Guardians toward her, but if Eryian couldn't control her, they would become a hindrance to him.

I suppose I'll either have to charm them or eliminate them...

The pull of the Guardian bond is truly admirable, but I'll not let that get in the way of what needs to be done.

Eryian looked at the tousled auburn hair that was only a little longer than his and thought, I do hope I won't have to go such lengths because I'd rather not dirty my hands more than necessary.

And... I know it'll make her sad.

What frustrated him most now was the uncertainty. To battle Haert was to court death, as Taryn Aegivyl had kindly sacrificed himself to show. To fight a god was stupid to begin with, Eryian thought.

But could the creator god be reasoned with? What was the reasoning of mortals to a celestial being anyways?

The two simplest ways to deal with a problem was to either eliminate it or talk your way out of it, but if you could do neither... What was the next step?

Why? Why does the creator god want to destroy the world?

Why does he need to destroy our world?

There must be some reason... something that is making the destruction of our world a necessity to the creator god.

Do gods even need a reason? Maybe he just woke up and decided we were an eyesore in his universe that needed to be eradicated like a speck of dust on a pristine surface?! Maybe—

"Eryian, sleep a little longer... whatever you're worried about... can wait until morning," Lirya mumbled, tugging on his arm.

Eryian hesitated, but then let his fatigue win over and he lay down next to her.

Oh well, surely it can wait just a while...

He let himself drift asleep curled up beside Lirya.

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Cassiel was bored. Things had been uninteresting since the mortals had encountered the creator god and now all they did was scheme. There had been no large-scale battles since Garyth Herus had been stirring up trouble on Dargon.

Garyth Herus had been a pain in Cassiel's side since he'd been tasked with his execution—and when that failed, his imprisonment. It had been a task that Pelos himself had bestowed upon Cassiel, and the archangel had long been awaiting the moment he could prove himself to his father-figure. However, not only had he botched the task of executing the troublemaking mortal—he'd also murdered an innocent mortal and in imprisoning Garyth Herus in the godly prison instead of killing him, had indirectly allowed him to escape and get Sylune killed. He'd done a lot over the centuries to regain Pelos' trust and his standing in the astral realm.

Cassiel absentmindedly browsed the seeing pool, searching for the distinct mana of the key mortals, but found himself drawn to one who had not been present during the confrontation in the Ether.

Is he... an archangel?

Though the figure had used magic to conceal his wings, Cassiel could see their faint outline through the seeing pool.

I didn't know that any still lived on Dargon without giving up their wings...

Cassiel stood up and stretched his wings, then turned away from the pool with a spring in his step.

Well, it looks like I have an excuse to make a visit to Dargon!

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Fun Fact: Pale green is 'mourning green' (Hoping the deceased rests comfortably in the Ether) while dark green is the symbol of unfinished business and sometimes - vengeance.