Chapter 1 - The Flower did not Glow
BOOMMMMM!
The horn tore through the night.
Ismena froze. The flames flickered. Her gaze darted to the sun flower framed in glass.
Dark.
Still.
Her breath hitched at the realization, tears fogged her sight and she staggered to her feet, knocking over the vase behind her.
"It's not glowing," she mumbled, her body trembling.
The horn tore through the night again and her head jerked in the direction of the sound. Only for her to look back at the flower.
It still wasn't glowing.
Suddenly everything around her felt too loud, too much.
Something was wrong.
"Your Majesty!" A guard rushed into the Royal chambers, his voice blending into the chaos.
She turned her back to him instead, ripped the red curtains aside and hurried to the balcony.
She could hear the approaching army, feel the ground shake from the weight of their movement, their weapons, their presence. Scattered fire from torches a good distance away, a chanting that consumed the night, and a blue piece of cloth on a stick.
Ismena blinked, her grip tightening around the iron railings of the balcony. Then she rushed right back into the room, to that flower that remained frozen in its darkness.
"Your Majesty!" Her handmaidens rushed into the royal chambers next. "The King—-"
"NO!" She yelled, hot tears streaming down the corners of her eyes. "Get out of my way!"
She pushed past them, her movement frantic.
They called after her, but she did not stop. She ignored the pain that dug into her feet as she ran down the stairs, to the front of the castle, where the returning army had now drawn closer to.
Armours.
Swords.
Shields.
Arrows.
Horses.
Warriors.
Her eyes combed over them all.
Yet none was him.
'VICTORY TO RAGMA!' The chanting increased.
'VICTORY!"
'VICTORY TO RAGMA!'
'VICTORY!"
Victory?
Ismena staggered back, her heart constraining with pain, her hand clenching into fist against her chest.
VICTORY?!
"Where is he?" She mumbled so lowly she almost didn't hear her own voice.
"WHERE IS HE?" Her demand crashed the chanting into silence.
All eyes were now on her.
"I. SAID." She took a step forward, "WHERE IS YOUR KING?!"
"Your Majesty," the Second in Command dismounted his horse, his eyes accusing her of insanity, foretelling an explanation she did not want to hear.
Was that… pity?
NO!
Swiftly, she turned her back to him and her attention to the rest.
"WHERE IS MY HUSBAND—" Her voice broke with grief. "Please where is he—-"
The sound of something crashing open submerged her words.
Ismena turned quickly in the direction of the noise. The warriors and the horses pulled back, creating a pathway to a big iron cage coated in silver with its door hanging open.
When Ismena's gaze fell upon the person who stood in the doorway, everything fell into place.
There!
Clad in leather. Tall. Regal. A glorious soght under the glow of the moon.
Alive.
Was Haron!
Ismena's heart soared with joy and her feet raced towards him.
He met her halfway. Pulled her against him. Sealed his lips against hers.
They pulled away when they were short of breath. He pressed his forehead against hers, his warmth bathing her face, as he threaded his fingers through her hair.
"I thought—-" Tears ran down her cheeks. "Haron, I was——"
"Never." He raised her chin so her gaze met his. "I promised, didn't I? I will always come back to you."
"But the flower did not glow."
A small frown fell upon his features. "What flower?"
Her heart skipped a beat. She shook her head quickly and pulled him in for another kiss, he responded with greater intensity.
This time when they pulled away, he turned to his people, half of whom were already teasing one another with their rulers display of the passion.
"PEOPLE OF RAGMA!" He declared.
A thick voice commanding everyone's attention. Instantly, silence stretched across the night.
"ON THIS THIRD NIGHT OF THE BLUE MOON, THE FIFTIETH YEAR AFTER THE CLEANSING!" Haron raised up his sword, smeared with purple blood.
Everyone fixed their gaze on it with awe. Ismena did too, her heart filled with too much joy to think of anything else but this victory. To think that her husband was alive to fulfill.
The non-glowing state of the sunflower came to her mind but she shoved it aside.
None of that mattered anymore.
"YOUR KING HAS BROUGHT YOU VICTORY FROM OUR BATTLE AGAINST THE MONSTERS OF THE NIGHT!"
"HUWAHHHHHHHH!" Ismena roared along with the crowd. Raising her fist in the air with pumps of excitement.
"NO MORE SHALL THE BEASTS THAT WEAR OUR SKIN IN DECEIT MAKE US TREMBLE IN FEAR!"
"HUWAHHHHHHHH!"
"WE HAVE SPILLED THEIR BLOOD ON THE FIELDS!"
"HUWAHHHHHHHH!"
"LEFT THEIR BODIES TO FEED THE BIRDS IN THE SKY!"
"HUWAHHHHHHHH!"
"WE HAVE LEFT NONE ALIVE!"
"HUWAHHHHHHHH!"
"EXCEPT THEIR KING!"
Silence.
Immediately, Ismena's face twisted with anger and confusion.
What?
Her fist slowly dropped to her side.
How dare he?
After everything those monsters had done to them?!
How could Haron do this? How could he do such a thing knowing firsthand what horrors those evil creatures were capable of.
HOW DARE HE SPARE THEIR KING?
The crowd began to mumble, filled with as much confusion as Ismena was.
Ismena looked right at Haron, her eyes filled with questions she wished she could scream at him.
There was a smirk on his face, his gaze holding hers for a moment before he looked away and pointed his sword at the silver coated cage.
"I HAVE BROUGHT YOU THEIR KING, SO THAT HE MAY DIE BEFORE YOU FOR ALL FOR THE CRIMES OF HIS KIND. SO THAT WE MAY MOUNT HIS HEAD AT THE GATE OF RAGMA!"
A smile broke across Ismena's lips.
There he was.
Her husband.
By the Sun she wished she could kiss him right now.
"HUWAHHHHHHHH!" Ismena raised both fists in the air.
This chant from everyone was far more thunderous than the last, every bit of it filled with excitement.
"SO THAT IF ANYONE OF THEM TRIES TO RAISE UP AGAINST US AGAIN, THEY WILL SEE THE SKULL OF THEIR KING, BE REMINDED OF THEIR WEAKNESS AND KNOW THEIR PLACE!"
Haron gave a signal and the walls of the cage collapsed, revealing the creature within it.
A monste—
What is this?
A… man?
No.
Not a man. Ismena furrowed her eyes.
Black hair spilled all over the iron floor; concealing his face. Heavy silver chains binding him to the floor of the cage. Cuts, purple blood, and stripes on his skin like cracks from a fire breathing mountain, only if the flames were white.
One of them. A different kind maybe but still an abomination.
"Monster," Ismena muttered, hatred blazing in her veins as the images of those who had been killed by these beasts flashed before her eyes.
Haron slashed his sword against the monster's back. "TURN INTO WHAT YOU REALLY ARE! YOU ARE NOT ONE OF US!"
But the monster did not respond.
Rage collided with a thirst for murder in Ismena's veins.
Haron kept slashing into the monster's skin, the crowd's chants increased. Their laughter. Her rage.
Loud.
Too loud.
Till it became a blur, fading into the back of Ismena's mind.
Something else was in the air, something else she couldn't explain.
Her head felt too heavy.
Could this… could this be the flower?
No!
NO!
Haron was alive.
It didn't matter.
None of it did.
So what was this… fear?
Then she heard it.
Despite the chaos, it was clear.
A very low growl.
Her gaze snapped right back to the monster.
It stirred.
Then it opened its eyes and looked right at her.
Terror consumed her in that moment. She screamed, for whatever reason it was, her voice pierced the night.
But it was too late.
Chaos unleashed.
Blood rained.
Too. Late.