Igniting A Flame {Kingdoms #1}

Forty-Three

Lukas brushed his hands across the mildew-crusted grass, seizing bunched weeds and tearing them apart. His mind wandered, trailing the racing thoughts that picked and prodded at him. A cursed stone, not only opening a pathway for the Queen of Hell but providing a wicked explanation for a war waged eleven years ago—the war that killed the father that could have been. Lukas didn't know how to feel nor how to react. Elated at the thought of truth and justice, betrayed by the king that lied, dithering between kingdoms. Lukas tensed, snapping from his concentrated trance as an amiable angel plopped beside him.

"Raenwood is nice," Theos beamed, utterly jubilant despite the patches in his wing concealed by bandages and weariness dragging on his eyes.

Lukas grunted a response, his thoughts trickling in once again. He paused, glancing at the angel's glittering silver eyes. "How did you survive the war? The angel war, that is."

"What? Oh," Theos paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, "I—I don't know. My memories are...clouded. My father—he lied to me about a lot of things."

"I completely understand," Lukas said with a hopeless sigh.

He darted his eyes to the people fliting across the sodden fields, scowling at the mud flicking into their leather boots, then to the children pestering their parents to give up gold for the fresh stew sizzling by the street merchants. Then finally, to the strength endowed warriors with shining dark hair who he could only assume to be Maragnian survivors—judging by the twinge of loss in their eyes. Lukas wished he could reside in this tranquil town forever, be a simple worker on the fields as he spies the enchanting sunset at dusk. Sunlight dwindled as dull clouds shrouded the sky, a benign cover rather than a warning of storm.

"I'm sick of being the forbidden...boy," he whispered, not daring to expose his origins with lingering ears, "and the harshness of reality. And you must be tired of upholding deceiving angel legends."

Lukas watched as the passing eyes either glared in suspicion or grinned with wry amusement—probably believing those tucked away wings were false. Unlike Maragnians, legends were just legends and merited no direct action. In fact, it provoked disbelief or outright doubt. Lukas supposed he was grateful that Theos didn't have to suffer the constant hiding and fear of being exposed.

"I'm sorry. I've been locked away for so long. I just," Theos pursed his lips, that ecstatic energy dissipating as he continued, "I just never knew the world beyond could be so heartless."

Lukas laughed. He didn't exactly know why or at what. Perhaps it were that he was conversing with an ancient angel or that the stress of his prophecy had finally come crashing down. But he tilted his head back and boomed out empty, bitter laughter. There was only a few days left before his growing court sailed back to Sora, whether they discover more secrets or are left at a loss, he didn't know. And nothing felt close to completion. Not a formed court, not a restored kingdom, not inflicting justice, not freedom. Instead of delving into an endless void, Lukas breathed in the rain-scented air and felt a spark flicker in his gut. Not a stir of magic, but hope. Real hope. He didn't know what changed with that scythe of warmth but he basked in it, allowing it to envelop him.

Lukas offered a hand to the angel staring at him with no sense of understanding. Theos stumbled up, cautious as to not lean too much on his sore ankle. So, they trotted off, vying to reach the Raenwood Boulevard. The invigorating wind whipped and ebbed at their faces as they strolled past the vibrant trees lining a dirt path. Lukas smiled every now and then at the travellers carting supply boxes or hefting packs dangling off their shoulders. Theos wasted no time explaining his time in the cabin in the woods, of his father who kept him encaged like a wild beast, of the secrets hidden inside a garden and box under the floorboards.