Tales of the Vangen: The Black Ministry's Betrayal (Book 1)

Chapter 68: A Paradise Lost

Libro felt sunlight kiss his cheek,  heard the soft call of birdsong grace his ears, carried on a gentle spring wind. Was he hallucinating, or had spring come to the Deadways?

Libro's curiosity got the better of him as He dared to chance a peek. Cloudy, blue open sky greeted Libro from beyond an open-air roof. He looked down, found himself in a four-poster bed, surrounded in silken drapery. The finely woven blanket atop of him felt soft and warm to the touch, his head practically sinking into the goose stuffed pillow.

A cloud parted, and warm sunlight beamed down, bathing Libro in a delicious warmth that rivaled even the blanket. A bird chirped off in the distance. Nearby, the wind picked up, rattling a set glass patio doors within his room.

Libro pulled the blanket back. Instead of broken bones and bruised flesh, he found his wounds were healed. His armor had been replaced with a luxurious silken robe draped across his body.

Libro wiggled his toes and breathed in a lungful of floral-scented air. Nothing. Not a shred of pain came to greet him. The sharp jabbing needle in his chest was gone, as was the numbness in his toes.

Libro wondered if he really was dead. After the fall and Tyrannus' explosive death, he remembered lying on the ground in the cold tunnels of the Deadways.now he was here, in what seemed a literal paradise.

Libro's eyes shot wide. That could only mean one thing. He was in Caelum, the open plains of heavens. The final resting lands of his people. An eternal paradise made by the Seven just for him.

"I'm worthy." Tears streaked down Libro's cheeks, pattering softly against the pillow." I'm worthy. I did it mather. I wasn't a coward. I was brave."

Wiping away the tears, Libro peeled the blanket back and sat up. He studied the room for a bit, regarding his eternal furnishings. For an eternal golden city, the gilding inside was rather lackluster.

The wallpaper was a finely rich tapestry of colors, but it was not spun gold. The plaster too well made, if a bit unremarkably lacking as well. It was beautiful, of that Libro had no doubt, but it wasn't what he expected. But he supposed, how did anyone when it came to paradise?

Libro slipped down onto the floor, gasped when his toes brushed against the freezing stones. Gently he lifted himself up, shuffling his feet as he stepped towards the patio.

It was warm outside. Pleasantly so. The sun hung crookedly over the clear blue sky he'd seen before, cloudless this time. The breeze whispered past his ears, ruffling through the slight curls in his hair.

A figure stood before Libro garbed in an ivory thread and heavy white samite, her dress stitched with jewels. A veil draped itself across her neck, rising up to a golden crown speckled with pearl and ruby.

Libro felt his hope shatter in an instant, congealing into the bedrock in his heart. He stepped towards the figure, keeping his gaze forward, willing the iron mask even in this reality.

Before Libro lay an endless sprawl of verdant green grass as far as the eye could see. Every breath of wind made them ebb and flow like the tides of a vast ocean.

"It's beautiful," said Libro breathily.

"It truly was." The Empress turned to him.

"Was?"

"Before I came to power, this land was a beautifully lush paradise that graced Byzantia's borders. My husband used to take me here when the burden of responsibility became too much to bear. We'd sit out here for hours, watching our son ride on his favorite horse, galloping up and down the land. But when the traitors spilled their ashes here, they ruined its vibrant colors forever with their rot."