The Khalas Chronicles

Ronan

It was unusually cold, even for nighttime. A thin mist covered Telni, illuminating it in a soft moonlit glow that was almost blue. My mother called occurrences such as these "bad omens." I never believed in them much, but after the message she sent me this morning, I'm starting to. I gazed outside. It looked as if the village was asleep. Not one person was outside of their home except for the occasional drunkard wandering out of a tavern. Good. They were easy to evade. I willed for my wings to appear, letting them stretch to their full length, almost consuming the entire balcony. I took a deep breath in and out. I hadn't flown in a long time, what with the coronation approaching and my sister's death. I wondered if I could quite pick up the breeze like I had before. I was still learning, after all, and it's not like there's that many humans in the same predicament as I am. The only other people who would have- as far as I know- wings similar to mine that can disappear at will are those with a demon bonded to their soul, like me. And as far as I know, there is no one else who has survived such an ordeal. My father always told me I was lucky to have such a "gift." Yes, I'm grateful to be destined to descend into the seven hells once I die to serve as an indentured servant in the demons' courts for eternity. The bastard.
In a flash of dark feathers, I took off, just as I'd remembered how. How free I felt. Cool wind billowed past me as I silently soared above what used to be my father's kingdom. What would soon be mine or my nephew, Luca's. Looking down, I saw the street sweeps finishing the last of their work. Others were putting out the street lamps, so I was guessing it was almost midnight. Which meant I was already going to be late for my meeting with my mother. Although the woman couldn't see the sky or whether it was dark or not, she had an impressive internal clock. I sped up, letting the wind above the clouds aid my journey. I watched as cottages and manors disappeared from behind me and all I saw were fields of blood roses and fire lilies. Speaking of. I landed somewhat clumsily along one of the flower fields, next to Rerik Lake, where my mother used to say the ghosts of the Ulisi Civil War still reside. Along the waters, a sad-looking young soldier sat, a light blue-grey aura surrounding him. Poor boy. He must've been drafted, or seeking honor for his family. Another perk of being part demon was that you could see things no one else could. Like spirits.
The boy stared intently at the waters, stuck in his period of time, in this exact place, perhaps for eternity. That was the only thing people feared about death. Having so much unfinished business in the world of the living that you become trapped. It was usually those who died violent or sad deaths that had to stay, which I thought was one of the many injustices the gods inflicted upon mortals. I didn't like leaving these lost souls alone. They had no one else. I gingerly picked a small but pretty fire lily that lit up when the stem broke. When freshly picked, these were said to ease the dead. He looked scared. He hugged his sheathed sword to his chest. It was a standard dual sided blade, but it must've meant a lot to him. It saddened me to think that perhaps he thought that was the last thing of value to him. I walked over, slowly and carefully as not to frighten him. His head shot up at the sense of my presence. He unsheathed his sword and tried to hold it in front of him, but even with both hands, he could barely lift it. It was evident that he wasn't ready for battle. I held out the lily, watching his eyes soften at the sight of its warm glow. I tried to smile at him. "I mean no harm." I breathed, watching as he slowly set his weapon down and approached. I patiently waited. It took him a while to trust me enough to come closer, but eventually he took the lily in his own gloved hand and smiled wearily as it shone slightly brighter. I noticed the wound on his side. A deep gash, inflicted by a heavy blade, probably. That wasn't immediately fatal. That meant he died by shock or bleeding out. My shoulders tightened. He died here, feeling alone and scared for the past ten years. "What is your name?" I asked gently.
He looked up, but his green eyes, which I imagined to be full of life at some point, seemed empty and not entirely there. He was silent for a bit, twirling the lily in between his thumb and index finger. "I... I don't remember." He whispered with a voice like a light breeze. Of course. He had no need to say or remember it for the past decade. I wouldn't remember my name, either.
"That's alright." I stepped a little closer to see if he would back away. He didn't. "My name is Ronan."
His face lit up. It's been a while since he's talked to someone. "Hello, Ronan." He tilted his head like a curious child. "Are you human?"
I chuckled. "Sort of. Are you asking because of my wings?"
The boy nodded. He was my age, I think. Seventeen was the minimum age to be a soldier during the Civil War. It's a shame he had to die so early. "They're very nice."
"Thank you. You can touch them, if you'd like."
He gingerly stroked the feathers along the tips, as if they were glass. "They're magnificent." He mused quietly. I grinned.
"You think so?"
"I do. If you don't mind me asking, why do you have them?"
I turned back to face him. "I'm part demon."
He backed away cautiously. Demons were considered one of the most violent beings to ever exist. I held up my hands. "But I won't hurt you. I promise."
He carefully came back. Not like he had anything to lose. "You cannot hurt me anymore than I already am." Almost instinctively, he clutched his wound.
"I suppose that's true." I looked down at his face, seeing how unhappy he was. "I'm sorry that there's nothing I can do to ease your pain."
"It's alright." He sat down in the sand, back where he was, next to his sword and its sheath. "I was foolish enough to think I could survive in battle, after all."
He was starting to revert back to how he was, putting his sword back where it it was and curling his knees up to his chin. The lily was fading, my cue to leave him be. "I have to go now," I told him. "But I can return, if you'd like."
He looked up at me with his eyes blank once again. "That would be nice." He whispered as he started freezing back into place. The lily was now shriveled beside him. I walked away, picked a blood rose off a bush nearby, ignoring the thorns digging into my fingers, and took off.
It was another ten minutes before I saw the seaside cottage which I knew was my mother's. My real mother's, at least. She was waiting on a tall sand dune that overlooked the sea. Her eyes were closed as her hands rested on her lap. Her lavender nightgown swished around in the seaside breeze. She heard the flap of wings as I landed and scoot over, patting a spot of sand next to her for me to sit. So I did. She looked over at me and smiled, her whole face lighting up, even her cloudy eyes. "Ikaro. I assume you've been well? Found a dapper young man or lady to sweep you off your feet yet?" She grinned.
Thankfully, she couldn't see my face turn the color of the rose I was holding. "No. This is for you, by the way." She gingerly reached out and took the rose, stroking its petals.
"A blood rose, I'm guessing?"
I inhaled the fresh smell of salt and sand. "Your favorite."
She laughed bitterly. "You do know you could simply find any old rose in the gardens and I wouldn't know the difference?"
"Mother-"
She waved her hand, as if to say forget it. "Don't mind me. I'm just being a downer, that's all. Let me see you."
She didn't mean literally, I just leaned forward and let her examine my face with her hands. She stroked my cheeks and lightly touched the bridge of my nose and my closed eyes. With her index and middle fingers, she tenderly brushed my hair back from my forehead. "Hm. It's about time you cut your hair, Ikaro."
I chuckled. "We haven't been able to visit each other for months, and this is one of the first things you say?"
"It's what a mother does. Ah, but I can't nag you too much, now, can I? I called you here for a reason."
My heart sank as I hugged my knees close to my chest. "Yes. You said you had sensed bad omens? And saw visions?"
She nodded gravely as she faced the ocean, the wind swaying her long dark hair this way and that. It was now streaked with gray at the roots. "It isn't Waluni season yet, is it?"
I shook my head, then remembered she couldn't see me. "No." I answered. I hated those large, crackly brown birds. "They're omens themselves, aren't they? If you heard one crow outside your bedroom window, precisely at dawn, someone you loved was about to be die..."
I looked at her, at her sad expression. "You don't mean-"
She held my face with one hand. "Yes. At dawn, as I started to wake, I heard one croak outside the window above my bed for a while. It was a steady, unsettling sound... and then I had the vision."
I sat up my knees, rigid. My sister had already died after giving birth to her son. That meant it was either me or my nephew. I clenched my fists. "What did you see?"
She shook her head, as if to deny her vision. But what she saw in these brief moments truly happened. Every time she saw them, they happened within the next three days. She once foresaw that someone would try to assassinate me on my fifteenth birthday by poisoning. I didn't eat or drink anything that day and ended up unscathed. She saw my older sister's death from childbirth before it happened and sent me a message. I couldn't do anything about it. I didn't want to believe that this would be something similar. The bird could've been a coincidence, but I doubted it in this case. It all lined up almost too perfectly.
"I saw..." My mother shivered. "I saw Rosalia's son, Luca. He was sleeping in his crib, swaddled up and safe. And then... in the doorway, I saw the shadow of two men. I couldn't see their faces, it was too dark. They came in with a jagged dagger and held it above Luca."
Not Luca. Gods, why Luca?
"I couldn't be certain..." She whispered. "But I could've sworn... I mean, I'm not sure, but... one of those silhouettes... it looked like Rosalia's husband."
I felt my blood run cold, something burning deep in my chest. This sounded like something Hubert would do. I didn't know his motive. Perhaps he wanted to secure the throne for himself for as long as he could, but... killing an infant? Regardless of how power hungry a man was, I didn't think a person could possibly reach that level of pure madness. In that case, he must've plotted to kill me as well.
Oh, no. This... this could be happening tonight. Mother sent me the message this afternoon. I abruptly stood up, running back to the tree line to take flight. "I have to go," I told my mother.
She stood up, staring in my direction. "Ikaro."
I faced her, slightly annoyed. Every second wasted here was a second I could've spent getting to the child. "He may have to leave for a while." Her voice shook. "He can return, but only when he can defend himself. Hubert isn't the only one that will come for his life. Many others will, as well. I know it. Hide him away until he can claim the throne, if he so chooses. I've seen other omens as well, and I'm begging you to take him away, just for a while. To the mountains. Or to Baltea."
"I will." I told her with conviction. "I'll be back once I get him to safety."
"May Kain bless the two of you boys." She uttered. Not exactly to me, but more towards the heavens.
I extended my wide wings and took off, rapidly passing past her seaside cottage, past the trees, past the lake. If Hubert was killing Luca for the throne first, simply because he was an easy target, that meant he needed a plot to kill me as well. I wondered what he'd planned. I was the first heir, after all. Hubert was exactly like my father, who killed his three elder sisters to be first in line. No wonder he so quickly gave his blessings for Rosalia and Hubert's marriage. I sped as fast as I could, ignoring the wind as it tried to push me back. I had to get to my nephew before Hubert could. I had to.

I stumbled into my room through the open balcony doors and raced down the carpeted hall. I armed myself with the dagger from my boot for good measure. Mother said there would be two of them. I mentally prepared myself for battle. I leapt up a flight of stairs, my chest tightening and my head spinning. I couldn't let someone I cared about die, not again. I reached Luca's room at the end of the hall, and realized the door was already ajar. No, no... I flew in, weapon at the ready. My eyes narrowed when I saw Hubert approaching Luca's cradle with his jagged knife, as another man watched from behind. Before he could kill, I flung forward and wretched his knife from his grasp. It was surprisingly easy. I leapt back, a dagger in each hand. Hubert's wild eyes glared heavily at me. "You. I should've known." He snarled. The other man gave me a similar look. I looked closer to see that he was one of the servants here, Eldridge.
"Should've known what? That I would actually be a decent human being and stop you from murdering an innocent child? Your son?" I snapped, irritated. "You're a madman, Hubert. And you, as well, Eldridge for letting him do this."
Hubert's beady eyes twinkled. "You're calling yourself a decent human being? You, a boy who killed his father on the eve of his sixtieth year?"
I tightened my grip on his dagger. The bejeweled handle almost snapped.
The servant looked away, eying Luca like he was his next meal. Gods. I lurched forward, letting my wings quickly carry me to the cradle and then to the balcony before they could react. "Well, it looks as if I'll have to cut this short." I held swaddled Luca in one arm, holding the daggers with the other. His big eyes wandered around, curious. "Ade for now, gentleman."
Hubert screamed, grabbing my ankle as I took off. He dangled precariously as I hovered above the gardens. I tried kicking him off with my other foot, struggling to remain balanced enough to hold Luca. "Hubert, I suggest you let go," I said, panic rising. If we stayed like this for too long, people would take notice. The more I kicked his face or shook my leg, he'd momentarily slide down, but he was motivated. He wretched himself upward even more.
"Give me my child! You don't understand- He's a demon. A monster! I tell you, he is-"
I smirked and watched his eyes turn wide with fear. "Yeah? Well, so am I. Have fun rotting in Seven Hells, bastard." I threw a dagger from next to my ear and into his eye. He shrieked, momentarily letting go out of pain and shock, and in that moment, I used his sudden onset of emotion to fling him off with a simple kick of my leg. He slipped, finally, and fell against the rocky pathway leading to the garden. A sickening crunch ensued as Luca started crying. I didn't dare look down at Hubert. Instead, I glanced at Eldridge reeling from the balcony's rail. He looked up at me, seeing me for the monster I was. Was it bad that I didn't feel any remorse in the least? I decided no. I was much more like my father than I wanted to admit.
I landed on the balcony of Luca's room and stared straight into the lifeless brown eyes of Culvert Eldridge. He stared back, fear in his expression. I decided to let him live. What was the point? He must've known there'd be consequences had he told anyone. I strolled back down to my room, rocking Luca so that he settled down. He gazed up at me with a strange fascination. I entered my room and gathered a pouch of gold coins, a cloak, and my sheathed sword. Then a satchel to place a canteen of milk for Luca. I strapped the knife I still had against my ankle. No need to attract any more attention that needed. Luca's eyelids eventually sank back down, and he started sleeping once again. I carefully wrapped him in an extra layer of wool. He stirred, but didn't wake. We were headed north. We were going to Baltea. Surely Gwendolyn still remembered me. And hopefully she would do me a favor. I couldn't fly longer than a few hours, so it was likely that I would have to put my wings away and walk for some distance, which I didn't look forward to, especially in the harsh and snowy winds of Baltea. I approximated that it would take around two days or so to get there. I left silently that night, Oliver resting safe and warm in the crook of my arm, close to my chest. I exhaled once we reached the space above the clouds, where everything was quiet. My nephew was going to be okay. He's not dead yet. I saved him. For once, I wasn't flying away from the castle to visit my mother or because I killed someone. Well. I did kill someone again, but I don't consider that the main reason why I'm running off. For once, I'm leaving because I was going to save someone. At least, according to my mother. My coronation was in the next seven months, on the eve of my eighteenth year. I'd be back by then, and everything would be okay. I'd let Gwendolyn raise him in Baltea and train him until he's a young man, old enough for me to hand the throne to and old enough to keep himself alive. I took a deep breath. May the gods help us all.