Duel

“Heath, know that you’re like a son to me.” The King of Elrus smiles, the wrinkles around his eyes turning upward in a rare display of warmth from the grizzled monarch.

“Thank you, Your Highness. This is a profound honor.”

I replay the scene in my head, deep in thought as we follow Alric through the Sa’arrian palace. It was the night I was appointed to the royal guard…the night my life began to have meaning and purpose.

For some, service in the Elran military reflects a sense of duty to the nation, but my loyalty stems from elsewhere. Born into the nobility and tutored by the nation’s elites, I trained alongside members of the royal family, and they showed me nothing but kindness. My loyalty to His Majesty is personal…even if he would oppose my relationship with Caio. He is an intelligent man—surely, he could come to understand that such relationships are normal?

My thoughts race as we move ever closer toward our impending audience with Soren. I know the proper move is to depose the dark emperor, but deep down, a piece of me longs to see the world he would create. What if I gave in…?

“This way,” Alric speaks, his voice shaking slightly. Is he nervous?

The young man leads us into a small courtyard dotted with statues of elderly men. Clad in fine garb, they emanate a regal aura. At the base of each, names and dates are inscribed…these are graves.

I exchange a confused glance with Caio as we move through the silent burial ground toward a stone structure at the far end. The building appears to be the entrance to a crypt, the metal gates unlocked and hanging wide open to reveal an ancient staircase.

“Soren is in the catacombs.” Alric hesitates before continuing. “We can wait for him if you wish.”

“Nonsense. Now is as good a time as ever.” I step forward, grabbing a torch from the wall.

Alric flashes a nervous glance back at the gravestones before following me down the dark staircase. What is he hiding?

A refreshing, moist shade bathes our bodies as we move beneath the surface. Torchlight dances upon the cracked brick walls, casting gloomy shadows as the three of us proceed. The silence is smothering—only the crackle of flames and the plodding of our footsteps.

“Is this where the founders of Sa’arre are buried?” I break the silence, eager to dispel the tense atmosphere.

“Yes. The bones of Osim Azeviar, the famous sage, are kept here.”

Now that’s a strangely specific detail to bring up. Alric seems distracted and deep in thought…it causes my unease to morph into curiosity.

After what feels like an eternity, we reach the base of the catacombs. A narrow corridor extends before us, flickering firelight and the sound of whispers emanating from a room at the far end. I nod to Caio before leading into the chamber, my heart pounding.

The scene is ghastly.

The tomb consists of a single cavernous room. Along the perimeter, ornate stone sarcophagi are lined, containing the bones of long-deceased nobles. A small group of foreign-looking mages stands in a circle, each holding a glimmering torch. They do not acknowledge us, instead focusing their attention on the center of the chamber as they mutter a continuous incantation.

A sarcophagus appears to have been dragged into the middle of the room and smashed open. The bones of who I presume is the ancient sage are strewn across the floor, drenched in fresh blood. Atop the gory bones, a recently slain basilisk lies motionless, its entrails spilling from a deep cut in its serpentine body. The sight is grisly. The sight is evil. What sort of wicked ritual is this?