Elijah - 8. Chapter 8: Elijah

My head pulsed with pain. I sat against one of the large crates in the now empty depot. My head swam as I tried to stand up. Discarded body-parts and pools of crippled cultists lay between me and the large bay doors. I picked up my sword, a pain shot up my back; had I broken something?

 

“Where is everyone?” I called. A soft wind blew through the warehouse carrying dust and debris. It picked up a few leaves, which swirled and glided and shuffled along the stone floor. I followed them as they waltzed through the air, finally settling near a large container. I glanced around, “Where is everyone?” I called, again.

 

I was not frightened. Our purpose was to get into the Seat and to end this; that was what I must do.

 

It was my duty.

 

The leaves rustled in the wind, and then whirled around the container before settling on top of it. Oak leaves. I frowned. Gripping my sword, I tapped the hilt on the steel container. It was rang deeply; it was obviously hollow.

 

Was there something in this container I needed? Something more important than Braden? If I didn’t do something, Caleb was going to kill him. But why? I had to stop Caleb. I kicked the container in frustration. The container shifted to reveal a set of stairs leading down into inky darkness. I scrambled over our small battlefield until I found a piece of wood, a slat from a crate. Lighting it at one of the many fires, I made a crude torch.

 

The stairs were dark even with the flickering light of the torch. They led to a large service tunnel. Pipes ran along the ceiling. Steam rose to hip level, augmented by occasional spurts from the overhead pipes. I moved toward a dim light that glowed in the distance.

 

I was not afraid, and that surprised me. I was not afraid of the darkness, even though it seemed to creep along with me and nip at my ankles. Was this because I knew my country’s savior followed my every step? Was it because my lips were his to use, and so I was safe? I believed I was safe from harm until he told me my time would end. I had seen farther than this point, and knew that nothing could come in my way. For a moment, I felt immortal.

 

The wind that had blown the leaves in the depot now swirling about me, pushing me towards the light which grew brighter and larger. The wind helped me by removing debris from my path. I reached a stone door in which was a tree, carved deeply. A small lantern swung from the ceiling by a chain. I touched the stone door, nothing. I pushed at several places; nothing.

 

I leaned heavily on the door. Finally, it began to move, sliding inward. I slipped through and ascended a flight of stairs. When I reached the top, light flooded my vision. I cast aside the torch and emerged into a small room that opened into the large foyer of the manor. As I stepped into the room, the door behind me closed. I turned to look; it was now invisible. Gripping my sword, I moved slowly into the foyer.

 

Everything was quiet. Near the door lay one of Jericho’s soldiers; he was dead, his gun still gripped in his fist. The stairs was littered with bodies. I supposed that Lidia and her forces had been here. The only thing I could do was follow; the only way I could go was up. The silence was broken by shouting voices and clanging weapons. The sound was muffled; however, it invigorated me. I sprinted up the stairs, jumping over bodies.

 

I passed floor after floor. Each corridor I saw was empty, untouched. The sounds became louder. I passed one floor on which paladins were in combat with sword-wielding cultists. I could not stop; I continued upward.

 

The next floor was wider, larger. It was a vaulted meeting hall. Bodies lay across the floor: royal guards, mercenaries, and Black Dawn agents. I halted at the top of the stairs. Lidia sat against the wall, holding a crimson stained bandage to her arm, sobbing. She glanced up.

 

“Jeremy!” Her voice echoed through the hall. My eyes looked past her. Caleb stood in a pool of shimmering light, yelling, but I could not hear him. As I moved in farther, the light around the prince reformed, revealing a cube of energy swirling slowly around him. Lidia called to me. “Jeremy, run! Get out!”

 

Laughter filled the hall, cold, heartless laughter. “Where would he go, dear princess?” The bodiless voice echoed around me. I gripped my sword, ready for anything. I looked at Caleb; he beat against the shimmering wall with his weapon, but nothing worked. His face was livid.

 

“Show yourself!” I shouted. The laughter continued, and then drifted away. I ran to Lidia, sliding along the marble to her side.

 

“Are you alright? We should get you to a safer place…”

 

She shook her head. “No, go. Braden is upstairs with Nicholas and the others. We got…” she coughed, wincing in pain, “…separated, there was a warlock, some wicked creature…it destroyed the elevators…” She leaned back, trying to suppress the pain. I looked to her, frowning, wishing I could do something, but I could not. My fingers curled around the hilt of my sword as I turned to stand and face the room. A corridor behind Caleb that led to another set of stairs that rose higher. I could go that way, but what about Caleb? I did not know magic, and had no idea how to release him. Perhaps this was for the better. He spoke to me, but I could not hear him.

 

“It is a pity that the royal family has lost its luster.” The voice was tangible now. A pale young man who had been hidden by the shimmering cube strolled into sight. He was garbed in ebon robes, shadows whose hem nipped at the marble as he glided towards me. His eyes were black, pitiless.

 

“I will kill you warlock,” I said.

 

“Warlock? I’m afraid not, Speaker.” He smiled a wicked smile. “I am a Shade, more or less…” Caleb, who had become still when the young man appeared, began banging on his shimmering prison again, as if to warn me. I licked my lips, but not in nervousness. I was ready for anything. “You see, I was summoned to hunt you.” He pointed a slender finger at me. I realized then that his state of being was not reality, but surreality; it seemed to shimmer and shift and then reform. His face was ageless; I could not describe it. “Sadly, you were always several steps ahead, but I knew this would come. I foresaw it.”

 

“You can see the future?” I asked. “So you know how this will end.”

 

“No, not really. I can see portions; it is our nature. Do you not study this anymore? Last time I was here… those silly adventurers searching for information in the far north… I do recall Elijah himself spoke to me…” He trailed off in his own devious thoughts. “No matter, I do not see like you see, Speaker. You bend fate and destiny around you like rocks in a river. Rather annoying, really…”

 

“Let Caleb go.”

 

“The prince? Oh my, no, he is a dangerous creature…look at him…” The hem of the robes swirled as he turned to Caleb who was still yelling violently and futilely in the silent prison.

 

“He cannot hear us can he?”

 

“Oh, he can indeed. He just cannot speak. Is that right young prince?” Caleb responded with his mouth wide open, eyes livid, and sword slashing against the magic, but to no avail.

 

“How do I kill it?” I turned to Lidia, ignoring this Shade.

 

“You can’t kill me,” the Shade said. “Unless you kill the one who summoned me, that being the dear king…”

 

“David cannot…have used magic…” Lidia protested. The Shade turned, swirling the shadows of his robe around him in his anger.

 

“Silence girl! With the right persuasion your idiot brother drained himself summoning me to do the Master’s bidding…”

 

“Who is your master?” I demanded. The Shade turned back to me.

 

“The Prophet Melvesia, of course. Now, to the matter at hand. You cannot kill me without splitting the heart of David and since he is up there,” a finger went to the ceiling, “and we are here, below…” He gestured to the room. “How do you say, on these planes…you are shit out of luck?” He laughed. “There are numerous ways to kill a Shade, but since you are not versed in them, this would be poor game… however, my master wants you alive, so, let us save ourselves the trouble.” He offered a pale hand. “Come.”

 

“No. Fight me!” I yelled, holding my sword to bear. “This is my kingdom, I shall defend it.”

 

“Jeremy…no…” Lidia pleaded. I ignored her.

 

The Shade laughed. “Your kingdom? Right, right. Stop your prattling, Speaker, come with me.”

 

“No!”

 

“Now!” The voice of the Shade rose into a roar; the walls shook and the shadows receeded into the farthest corners, ebbing and flowing.

 

“No!” I charged forward, slashing with my sword. The Shade swirled away, appearing behind me. His palm flicked out and I was catapulted into the wall. As I met the wall I yelped;pain rocketed through my body, but that did not stop me. I went for the creature again but I could never reach it; I was held back by something. The Shade stood fast, staring smugly.

 

“You cannot come close to anything that would harm me, Speaker, please, stop this…”

 

“No!” I yelled. I heard a shout and saw Caleb launch into the air, slashing down on the Shade. The shadowy creature disappeared in a swirl of ebon smoke and appeared at the far end of the room. Its pale fingers began to weave a spell. Caleb looked at me.

 

“Go up, now, I will hold it off.” The shadows swirled through the room, rushing toward the Shade before forming into a swirling orb of darkness in its palm. The Shade hurled the orb toward Caleb. When it struck, it burst into strands of wicked, black light. I heard Caleb scream, but Lidia’s moan seemed louder. I rushed to her.

 

“Lidia?” I knelt down; she slid slowly down the wall, blood trailing from her back along the marble. I felt her pulse. There was none. I cringed and looked back. Caleb fought with the Shade. Each sword thrust was countered by the Shade teleporting to another place in the room and then sending bolts of shadowy death toward Caleb. He vaulted over them or deflected them with his runed weapon, and then charge at the creature.

 

I sprinted for the doorway. I felt magic began to tug at me; the Shade had noticed. There was a pulse of purple light; I felt the ground rumble and I was tossed into the hall. Caleb still fought with the Shade; I scrambled onward. Up the stairs, tears in my eyes, I hated everything. It was unfair, unfair for Lidia to die.

 

The next corridor was empty. I slowly slid along it until I heard scratching, sobbing. A man lay crumpled in an adjacent hallway. It was Victor Jericho. I stared; he noticed me, He screamed and tried to move away from me; his face was deathly pale.

 

“No… no no no no no…. please…not now…”

 

“What? No, I won’t hurt you…” Or should I? He betrayed the king, funding death upon the kingdom.

 

“So dark, everything. Whispers everywhere. Wicked words… making me… do horrible things…everything is lost, darkness…” I stepped closer and he kicked weakly at me, trying to get away. “No more light…its all gone… we are all puppets…used… they… want everything…”

 

“They, who?”

 

“Dead Prophets, Black Prophets the False Ones… evil of legend… it is so true… I cannot live with this. I have sinned so much, so deep…” He raised his gun and shot himself in the head before I could do anything. His blood spattered the wall. I moved on. Perhaps it was a fitting ending for him.

 

I reached the next floor; there were still several more before the throne room. Seline stood in the hallway, bodies surrounding her. The liger was dead from a deep gash in its neck. The Venz woman stood facing a young woman with raven hair and red lips. She wore tattered leather garments. Seline saw me; she started in her surprise.

 

“Speaker! You must not be here!

 

“Do we have company?” The young woman with dark hair had a beautiful, warming voice. “Invite him over, disciple; we have much catching up to do…”

 

I glanced around; this floor was entirely glass. The corridor we stood in was glass. The city shimmered under gray clouds, rain began to fall.

 

“Jeremy, you must leave… quickly!” Seline ordered. I ran to the stairs. The dark haired woman saw, and laughed.

 

“Enough of this,” she screamed. I felt her magic ripple across the air. Glass exploded and shattered around us. Something swirled around me. Seline stood over me, her cloak held around us, protecting us from the shards of glass.

 

“Run, quickly. She is an ancient creature, far more powerful than Melvesia, and you much reach David… undo the hold on his mind, retake the throne, I will re-seal this Black Prophet…” Seline lowered her cloak as the dark haired woman strolled toward us.

 

“Who is that?” I asked.

 

“Aryadnay, the Vile, the first to betray our Prophet…now go…quickly, Speaker, for everything is upon you…” Seline pushed me, I heard her engage Aryadnay, and magic rippled through the Seat, powerful, ancient magic that rattled the bones. I heard the evil Prophet’s laughter.

 

“Such fun, dearest Synthril… such fun!” I kept running upwards, feeling the battles below. More flights of stairs, and I finally reached the top. I stood and stared.

 

Paladins strewn in all directions, dead, blood stains across their golden armor. Nicholas was impaled on a large torch bracket. I walked through the carnage, staring, tears streaming from my eyes. Blood was everywhere. The throne room door was ajar. I turned on my heels, and all I saw was death. I faced the door to the throne room. My destination.

 

“Jeremy…” I turned. Braden limped toward me. “The Prophet… fought us…killed Nicholas with ease, where is Caleb?”

 

“Here.” The prince strode toward us, blood dripping across his handsome face. “Where is Seline? Rodef?”

 

“Seline is below us, busy.” I did not give details. “Where is Rodef?” I looked to Braden.

 

“Dead.” I lowered my head.

 

“We cannot fight the Prophet now… we needed them…” Braden coughed, clearly wounded. I moved toward him. He recoiled, “I’m fine…”

 

“We can still do this,” Caleb urged. I watched the prince with caution; this was not what I had seen.

 

“It is hopeless…” Braden sighed, falling to his knees. “Everything is so difficult now… it is all dark,” He was losing hope; I could feel it.

 

“Stand up, Braden,” I urged.

 

“Now,” Caleb ordered.

 

“It is so hard…” Braden sighed. “Let’s just stop; it is over…done with…” His eyes had closed. “Just finish me.”

 

“No!” I yelled, kneeling down, gripping him by the collar. “You’re an idiot, we need to sort this out, let’s go.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Leave him.” I felt the firm grip of Caleb on my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

 

“No, get away from me…” I shrugged him off. The prince moved away and toward the throne room doors. “Come on, Braden… lets go, we need to end this…”

 

“No, just end it for me… I’ll be here…” He pulled my head into his shoulder, full of sadness. What was I to do? I possessed no healing powers, nothing.

 

“Jeremy!” Caleb called. He was pushing against the throne room doors. I looked back at Braden. His chest had stopped rising and falling. I was filled with despair. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small orb that Seline had give me. I kissed it, and put it in Braden’s palm. Picking up my sword, I followed Caleb.

 

The throne room doors opened slowly and we entered the vast, empty hall. It was dark; the city behind the golden throne was silent. David sat in the seat; elbow resting on the arms. His face was pale, gaunt, as if he had gone days without sleep or food. I could see dense shadows swirling in the niches of the vaulted ceiling. They were watching us, waiting. David sat up and saw us; Caleb drew his weapon and walked briskly toward the raised throne.

 

“Caleb, wait…” I said, reaching for him.

 

“I am going to end this.”

 

“Caleb…” David said; his voice was tired, almost as if it were his last few breaths. “My brother…”

 

Caleb pointed his sword at David. “You are no brother of mine.”

 

“It was for the greater good… he told me…he always told me at night, whispers in the dark.” He glanced up to the swirling darkness; a dull smile crossed his once handsome features. “It was for the greater good.”

 

“What good?” Caleb yelled. “Our father is dead! Mother is as good as dead without her king and so is the country and you shall pay in blood!” Caleb charged at the throne with his sword raised. David stood lazily, drawing his own sword. The brothers clashed, and fought elegantly, as if in formal practice. I watched in awe. Caleb would advance but then David would parry, and the advantage would change. But this was wrong! I was to kill David; I was told I must kill David.

 

“Caleb!” I called. “Stop!” He didn’t hear me for the clashing of blades. David parried once more, and then his foot flew out, kicking Caleb down the marble steps. The prince smashed against the floor.

 

“He protects me, you see; he will bring greatness to Elijah…” David seemed to recite these words dully, as if they were not his, as if it wasn’t David, at all. I took matters into my own hand and charged at David, slashing at the puppet king.

 

He easily blocked my attack. “Ah, Jeremy.” He gingerly thrust at me, and I jumped out of the way. I continued my assault at one point stepping over the crown which lay on the floor. Then I realized, David was not was not really attacking me; the Black Prophet did want me alive, but for what? I kept attacking David until a sword came between us. It was Caleb. I was thrown backward. Caleb turned to me.

 

“I will kill him! That is my throne! Do you hear me Jeremy?” Caleb yelled, raising his weapon, threatening. I said nothing. I sat up, staring. The prince moved at me, a thrust, I blocked it and jumped backward. I heard David’s laughter; but it was not his, something colder, abyssal.

 

“Stop…Caleb…stop!” The shadows above us seemed to descend, the throne room become surreal, stuck in a dark mist. It was dense, draining. I was becoming weak. Caleb kept assaulting David. I felt Caleb’s sword nip at my arm, drawing blood. The hilt whirled into the air before striking me down to the marble floor. I fell, my head slamming against the marble. My head swam. The prince stood over me.

 

“You will not get in my way, little commoner from Portalis. That is my throne,” he spat. “And I shall retake it.” The shadows were so dense, Caleb was mad, what was he doing? His sword rose to make a final blow.

 

“No! Caleb…” I was at his mercy.

 

“We have protected you, and for what? You are worthless; you grovel and pity yourself like a fool. What have you done? You speak with the Prophet? Why did he not foresee this any of this? My sister, my father are dead… my brother is lost… why did you not stop it?” Caleb looked at me frantically; he had indeed gone mad. “I must retake the throne…” A gunshot echoed into the throne room. Caleb fell backward, twitching. I sat up; Braden leaned against the doorway; he held a pistol. I scrambled away from the dying prince. David stood by the throne clapping.

 

I approached Braden. “Are you all right?” I asked, glancing at David in case he made a move. Braden nodded.

 

“Yes… dizzy…” He slid down the door. “I need to rest…” He hit the floor and sighed. His breathing was shallow, however blood no longer flowed from his wound. He looked whole again, merely tired. I did not question this but turned to David, pointing my sword at him.

 

“You must return the throne; you took it by wicked means.”

 

“I took it because it wished to be taken, it was my destiny…. he told me so… I was to lead a new Elijah; we would reinstate the use of magic, destroy the foul Venz and retake our lands that are that of Venz…” His tired eyes gleamed for a moment. I had had enough. I charged at him with my sword.

 

He blocked my attack, I made another, he parried.

 

“He wishes you alive, Jeremy, stop this…” David said. His eyes were not his. Everything seemed so wrong.

 

“Where is David?”

 

“I am here!”

 

“Liar!” I roared and thrust at him with my sword, it connected with his chest, David howled stumbling backwards, clutching his chest. His back arched in pain as he fell to the floor, writhing. The shadows above swirled and roared into existence, darting around the room as they dripped to the floor, frothing upward to form the swirling, shadow, living body of the prophet.

 

The creature from the basement stood over David, the claw gleaming in the dim light. The shadows swirled about the hem of the robes, the mask glittered; David was silent under the looming shadow of Melvesia. I stepped backwards, my eyes were drawn to the crown.

 

‘Take it…’ A voice urged. ‘Put it upon your head…’ I started for the crown, but my limbs went rigid. I could not move, something held me back.

 

“It has been sometime since we last spoke…” The same chilling voice echoed into the room, a thousand voices echoing off one another; however, one voice was louder than the others. My head hurt, I turned back to face the mask and swirling darkness.

 

“I will return you from wherever you came.” I felt my threat was empty. I felt hopeless, so hopeless. The madness that the darkness created was already setting upon me.

 

I heard laughter a thousand fold. “Nay, Speaker. We took so many steps to acquire you, and here you are. I shall not pass up this prospect.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

It continued. “You must put the crown on. Only then I can fuel my energies through you. This boy,” the claw made the briefest of gestures toward David’s body, “was merely a toy. A puppet. Easily discarded to the wind…you however… you are a conduit through which Elijah predicts and informs… the perfect host to rule the land…” The voice craved me; I could feel it seeping around me, caressing my mind with wicked magic.

 

“No!”

 

“Put the crown on…” The statement felt like an order. I moved toward the crown; I could not stop myself. I leaned down and touched it; the leaves were cold to my fingertips. I dropped my sword, and held the crown with both hands. I lifted it, and held it over my head for a moment before setting it upon my head. The weight felt heavier than I expected. I turned back to the prophet. Wind swirled around the throne room. I felt magic pulse. Everything was suddenly engulfed with white light. I heard a thousand voices scream.

 

I am under the tree again, the youth next to me. I still feel the crown upon my head.

 

“The crown is the closest thing one can get to me,” the youth says. “I am glad Melvesia was foolish enough to have you put it on.” He smiles at me. I smile back.

 

“We won?”

 

“No. He approaches.” The young man points to dark rolling clouds swirling in the distance, moving over the lush golden fields, “Take this.” The youth presents a simple looking sword, I take it and turn back to the darkness, “It will harm him, for it is mine.”

 

“Will you help me?”

 

“No, it is not my purpose.”

 

“It is mine?” I ask. The darkness closes in quickly, it surges over us, across the fields. As it passes, the fields die and flames burst in all directions. The large tree we stand under dies, leaves fall dead about us. Rain pours, lighting and thunder crack across the gray, dead sky.

 

“Yes, to repel the darkness and bring a new age… that is your purpose. Fulfill it.” He points to the dark robed figure walking slowly across the blight. I grip the sword and nod. “Go.” I walk down the hill.

 

Melvesia slowly moved across the dead blight toward me. His robes billowed in the wind, the mask gleaming against the sky which was alight with flame and thunder.

 

“I did no suspect the Great Prophet would intervene, himself. You have chosen allies well.” the Black Prophet laughed. “Killing you here will rid me of you and I can continue my work and awaken the rest of my brothers and sisters.”

 

I raised the sword; the crown above my head felt alive. I could feel the leaves, the sword. I heard the voice of the youth.

 

“These are my weapons, the symbol of my teachings and the weapon to defend the righteous, feel them… for they are mine, yours, they are the people. My children are now your children…defend them.” The voice echoed into the depth of my mind. I felt everything. I was attuned. I focused upon the swirling shadows that were Melvesia.

 

“Why did you kill those innocent families?” I asked. Rain began slowly to fall. I felt it, as if this were all-real.

 

“Each child had the chance to possess the trait of the Speaker; sadly none did. Until we tracked you down to your pitiful town.” He paused, moving closer; I felt his power, rippling magic of a deep dark ancient time. “It was a pity that the old man protected your brother. He was favored by the Great Prophet. I was not aware their avatars could reach that far…” The air was still suddenly, the voices forcing themselves through whatever protection I had around me. “From the moment of your birth, we waited silently for centuries, trapped below in magical prisons. Our hate grew. Finally, the eldest Prince proved a perfect tool. His mind was weak, ambitions high. An easy thing to…latch onto.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“We planned for you to attend the school; however, it seemed that once again the Great Prophet had intervened, the threads of fate weaving Lord Riven into your life. I had overlooked the factor that the disciples of Elijah, even through the darkness of death, could outstretch their avatars. Three of them assisted you. A small misstep,” the Black Prophet explained.

 

Three avatars? Who where they? “Why did you not just take me when I was born?”

 

“We could not. Each of the five families was protected. So we waited. You were protected by your father.”

 

“So that is why you wanted to use me to rule the country, because I spoke through the Prophet?”

 

“In essence, yes. It was a conduit to this location, the Haven of the Prophet. Once I could mold it to my image, Elijah would finally be banished. The kingdom would slowly deteriorate and I could return the lands to the rightful heirs, my eleven companions.” The voices rose in anticipation. “Your father and his four friends prevented the majority of my brothers and sisters to rest further, however Aryadnay and Gurvetza have risen. They will assist me in my work once I am finished with you…” Laughter filled the blighted land.

 

“I will stop them too, as I will stop you here, now.” I spoke with confidence I did not know I had. Even as the shadow of the land pressed upon me, at the brink of madness, there was a glimmer of hope that would not fade away. My statement was met only with cold laughter.

 

“Do you know why we departed from the teachings of your esteemed prophet?” Melvesia asked “He taught things that were weak. Hope, for instance, the kind you hold to so tightly right now. All of you, every pure creature, clings to hope for a new day. Better than the last, full of glorious fate and the pursuit of something greater. Then it never comes…” His voice echoed into the storming sky. “Your prophet, your savior, provides faulty promises.”

 

“Shut up!” I yelled, anger pulsing through me. I wanted to cut him, to watch him bleed, if he could actually bleed.

 

“Where is he now? If he cared, he would be here. Right now.”

 

“He is here!” I yelled. “He is everywhere! He is greatness; he is hope, and it was he who gave me the tools to defeat you!” I charged at the Black Prophet. With all of my might raising my weapon, willing all my strength into one blow. The sword gathered light, casting shadows across the gray battlefield.

 

“Fool.” Melvesia’s cold voice echoed loudly; he was everywhere. My sword crashed down against writhing darkness. The false disciple wielded a weapon of pure surging shadow. “You are blind, Speaker!” He thrust the shadows forward. I raised my sword to block, only to be met with crackling magic. Thunder rolled across the sky. I lunged at the swirling robes and struck nothing but air. “Did not dearest Caleb teach you a thing?” Melvesia swirled away in inky blackness, reappearing behind me. “Ha!” I felt magic burst from behind me, sending me sprawling along the gray dust.

 

I righted myself, shaking off the dirt and charged at him again. All I heard was icy laughter as my blade came down into a dissipating cloud of shadow. The prophet was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Show yourself!” I shouted, sweat beading across my brow. The crown felt heavy, the sword an even greater burden. I needed to do it for Lidia…for Braden, for everyone. Retribution. Laughter echoed with the thunder as it rolled across the sky; lightning illuminated the battlefield, now filled with numerous cloaked specters. All were gliding in my direction.

 

I turned slowly, facing each one as it approached. I counted eleven and my heart sank. Something pushed me down, a force unseen. I knelt, the sword pressing deeper into the soft gray soil. Shadows nipped at my face. I looked up. Melvesia stood over me. His eleven cloaked companions were circling us.

 

“They have come to see your end. We have no further use for you, and I, alone, remain on the material realm.” The shadows writhed and whirled around us, as if there was strife amongst the enemy. “Brothers…sisters… we will attend to you soon enough…” The words felt empty. Something else was happening, something I didn’t understand. The shadowy figures returned to their wispy states, merely watching.

 

My grip upon the sword loosened, my body rose up before Melvesia; I was paralyzed. The feeling was surreal. I could not even think of moving any part of my body; it was if it had never been programmed into my brain. Was magic this powerful? I floated before the pale, outstretched hand of the prophet. I stared into dead eyes, and a wicked smile.

 

“I will enjoy your defeat, oh hero of Elijah.” I felt a force tightening around my neck; I began to gasp. Was it this easy for him? This was my end? Did I not even get to fight back? The pressure eased for a moment, and Melvesia spoke, again. “Look who has come to watch.” I felt myself turn, my mother stood behind the circle of cloaked figures. She watched with blank eyes. Sad eyes. She reached out to me. I wanted to scream, but I could not. “Your brother and father are too well protected, for the moment. But she is in my power.” My mother began to writhe and scream and reach out to nothing and then vanished into shadow.

 

Melvesia released me, and I fell to the ground, panting, gripping at the gray soil. I reached for the sword, but it was too far away. I panicked. Melvesia glided closer; the circle of dark figures widened.

 

“Do you need this?” His outstretched hand summoned the sword and it was presented it to me. I took it quickly, and then scrambled backwards. I was embarrassed. The others were laughing, even in their darkness.

 

In a sudden burst of adrenaline, I charged at Melvesia. swung the sword in an arc through the air. I felt it slide through something that resisted it; not something solid, but more like water. The prophet hissed in pain and vanished in dripping smoke. I whirled around and saw that he was behind me. He held out his palm and something burst from it, scattering dust as it flew toward me. A shadowy ball of pain collided with my chest sending me through the inky darkness that traveled with the eleven cloaked figures. They shifted, swirled and moved to follow Melvesia.

 

My head swam but I stood up slowly, attempting to regain my composure. Melvesia raised his pale fingers; black light sprang forth, surging around me. I felt pain greater than I had ever felt. My scream startled even me; I was on fire. The pain stopped and I breathed. I still held the sword, but it hurt my hand. Melvesia came closer on his mission of death—my death. The crackling energy surged around me again. I could no longer scream, but tried to beg.

 

I was pushed to my knees by his invisible power. Again, energy blasted me. More pain. I was losing hope. My body was on fire, but my mind was numb.

 

“Please stop…” I begged. “Please.”

 

“Speak louder, boy.” The voice was everywhere; it itched at my spine and forced me to push my face through the gray dirt. I gasped for breath, and sent clouds of dust around my sweating head.

 

“Stop…” I pleaded. “Stop…please…” Melvesia responded only with laughter. Something in the laughter gave me hope and purpose. I raised my eyes to glare at the Black Prophet. I felt his wickednessand drew strength from it. I stumbled to my feet and then charged, putting all my energy into a singular swing of my sword. It connected, and light exploded across the world. Melvesia howled and disappeared. I spun around until I saw him reappear, and then charged him, again. The cloaked followers swirled around, moving, avoiding me, giving me room as I moved. Melvesia sent a flurry of spinning black blades in my direction. I ducked; the first whizzed past and exploded in inky dust. Another missed, but the last sliced across my arm. I felt the cut; I saw the blood flowing from my arm. It only fueled my anger; my blade lashed out as I approached.

 

The shadows of Melvesia surged and moved away from my blade. Blood dripped from my fingers and fell upon the gray dirt. The shadows ebbed and flowed around us. Melvesia brandished his shadowy scimitar once more, ready to deal the final blow. The surge of strength and will had left me; I could only await my end.

 

Then, I thought of Braden waiting for me in the throne room. Alive. I remembered my father and brother. I thought of how I must save my mother. I thought of my first day at the Academy, the first time I met David the prince who would be the undoing of the country. I remembered Caleb’s gritty attitude, and the boy who had been for a while, my friend, until he had become lost in his own madness. I remember Lidia dying senselessly. I remembered the death of the king, just days after I had given him the best advice I had.

 

At those thoughts, I was engulfed in white light. I felt wind howling around, heat against my cheeks. I shut my eyes and listened. Howling wind, crackling, some sort of magic. Melvesia cursed. I opened my eyes; my wound was no more. I felt invigorated.

 

The Black Prophet had stepped away from me. There was a look of horror on his face. His dark minions surged backward, I could feel their surprise.

 

“Did you not think we would come?” a strong female voice said. I looked up, Seline stood above me, and she glowed bright and beautiful. A stark contrast against the dim gray. She was younger, her hair was lighter and she wielded a gnarled, oak staff.

 

“You… how…” Melveisa’s voice was loud; however, it held a hint of fear. The shadows around him surged in anger. “I did not know this could happen!”

 

“It is because you shed the blood of a mortal in my realm.” A handsome youth stepped from behind Seline. He held a bow and arrow made of glittering gold. He glowed brightly, and brought color back to the gray world.

 

“Blood? Blood does not allow you to come…. this is our land, we share it!” Melvesia roared.

 

“On the contrary.” Now, an older man stood beside Seline. He carried a large axe. He looked familiar, as if I had seen him before. “This is a place of purity until you soaked it with your wickedness, Melvesia. No blood of a mortal may be spilt here; that is an act of evil. It has called us.”

 

“You were always ambitious and quick, Melvesia,” the golden youth said. “I knew this when first you approached me under the tree to ask for guidance. I remember.”

 

“Silence!” A shadow near Melvesia burst into life, and a woman strolled out of from ebony curtains. She was beautiful, but I felt evil from her greater than ever before.

 

“Do you need help, brother?” She glanced at my three guardians, and lifted a slender eyebrow.

 

“Synthril? It has been centuries.” I looked from the wicked woman to Seline. It could not be.

 

“Jeseria, always a pleasure,” Synthril replied.

 

“How many are awake now, Melvesia?” the youth asked.

 

“We all stir, your end approaches. You know it. You can feel it. We will retake the land,” the Prophet preached.

 

“Quiet, boy, you always spoke too much,” the elderly man cut in. “You are out-matched here. Leave, return to your shadows. The mortals will find you and return you to your slumber. Go.”

 

“Not always that easy, Uriel,” Jeseria giggled. “We are here. A reunion, yet you fail to bring eight. Where are the others of your ilk?”

 

“We can handle you well enough, if that is what you wish,” the youth behind me said.

 

“How are you here?” I looked at the youth. “You saved me. You came to help?” I was hopeful.

 

“No man, woman, or child deserves to suffer the pain you felt moments ago. We cannot tolerate such pain or strife. It is our duty to rid the world of this shadow.”

 

“But…” I began.

 

“We are avatars. As we preach our values, we protect this land. The wicked ones try to stop us, but in ways that are twisted and vile. It seems they are gathering, here, now.” Elijah spoke.

 

“Where are the rest, the rest of your twelve?” I asked.

 

“They rest in peaceful slumber. If they are ever needed, they will come.” the youth promised.

 

Another one of the shadows near Melvesia swirled, a tall man covered in dark tattoos strolled from the shadows.

 

“Have I missed anything?” he asked in a deep and gravelly voice.

 

“No, Verakis; the boy has brought friends.” Jeseria gestured to the three who towered above me. Another shadow swirled, and a young man slid out. A scar traveled from a milky white eye to his jaw.

 

“It is indeed a reunion. Ah, Uriel. You still have not seen the good in what we do?”

 

“Gurvetza…” Uriel growled. “Be silent.”

 

“We all know there was a point were you were unsure. Follow the young upstart or follow Lord Fiore.” The fallen disciple snarled.

 

“Speak not Fiore’s name!” The youth roared, his voice echoed loudly. Magic rippled through the air, tickling the hairs on the back of my neck. “He received no title of such in my land.”

 

“When one does many great things, they are deserving of a title.” A tall, handsome man came to join the shadowy four. Now, there were five. He was not the odd paleness of the others; he held life in his dark eyes. I felt a sense of dread. The others bowed slightly as he turned to face us.

 

“You dare come here?” The youth spoke with fury. “Here? In my Haven. Your vile companions poison my realm and you show your face here!”

 

“It is my nature, Great Prophet.” I looked at the youth to see blue eyes filled with rage.

 

“If he joins battle,” Synthril said softly, “I will deal with him.”

 

“Are you certain?” The youth looked frightened for a moment; I felt it too. His mood moved me.

 

“Yes, I mean no disrespect, but I understand his magics deeply. They are wicked and clouded. He is the worst. To raise the dead to fight so long ago, almost leading to your death, Exalted One. Please, it will be for your name,” the woman pledged.

 

“As it will be.” He nodded and nocked an arrow in his golden bow. “Stand, my Speaker; grip my sword and prepare.” I did as I was told.

 

The others saw this; the shadows that rolled around their feet shifted and surged.

 

“This has no ending,” Lord Fiore called. “You know we will return, we will be greater in numbers. Our mortal agents are expendable. We made an accord so many years ago, Elijah, and yet you still maintain we are creatures of evil?”

 

“You betrayed me; your promises are empty. You left me and my followers to pursue your own goals, to make something better than I had begun to create, you failed. Your fall into darkness and then you come crawling back and expect me to break bread with you. You murder my kin in cold blood. I despise you and your followers. You tried, but you did not achieve the oneness I have with my children. You failed Fiore!” the youth cried with passion. I could see the tears in his eyes. “And for that I damned you and your disciples to a petrified state so your evil could not be wrought…”

 

“Then you have failed.” Fiore interjected.

 

“Nay, I am here to end this. It was one thing for Melvesia to corrupt my kingdom, to kill my king, and to possess his son with whispers and magic. So much blood shed for what? A simple crown of leaves?”

 

“It is so much more than that. The ground on which you built your cities, Great Prophet, the land is ripe with opportunity. As you felt magic was devious, unneeded, yet one of your followers is the Herald of Venz?”

 

“You speak wrongly, Fiore,” Synthril called. “I left to teach the people of the north the art of magic. To control, to not abuse and twist as you did.”

 

“As you say woman, as you say,” Fiore waved his hand to dismiss the thought. “Your land we seek because we may remake it to our liking. You were always weak, Great Prophet, your methods dull and your speeches lacked luster. We would bring the nation to greatness. We would return magic, and the land would flourish into a paradise like no one has ever seen!”

 

“Silence!” The youth ordered. He raised the bow and pulled the string, the arrow sliding back, ready. There was a whisk of the bowstrings; the arrow tore across the small space between the groups. Fiore’s arm shot up, his fingers caught the arrow and snapped it.

 

“As I said, weak,” Fiore said. He paused and discarded the golden arrow. “Rid me of this prattle, and bring the boy.” He was then swallowed by darkness. The remaining four laughed and cackled, swirling in shadows before darting forward. Uriel charged, swinging his axe which had begun to glow. He clashed with Gurvetza who was wielding a similar weapon to that of Melvesia. Jeseria and Verakis both assaulted Synthril. Synthril repelled Jeseria with her staff and exchanged flashing spells with Verakis.

 

Melvesia appeared before me. I rolled out of the way. Shadowy fire imploded where I had been. The Black Prophet swirled toward me with his wicked weapon. Something whizzed above my head. Melvesia screamed.

 

The youth called.“Run, Jeremy!” I ran to him. He nocked another arrow. I stood beside him just as he sent another arrow toward Melvesia. Magic pulsed over the battlefield, sending up walls of gray dirt. Pinpoints of blue flames burst into the sky from where Uriel and Gurvetza fought. Thunder rolled across the world.

 

Before the arrow could reach the Black Prophet, shadows swirled and struck it down. Melvesia swirled into the air and toward the youth. I jumped between the swirling darkness and the Great Prophet. My sword sliced through the inky darkness that was Melvesia. He screamed, and light exploded from my sword.

 

The shadows swirled and landed, fanning out until we saw the pale-faced prophetpanting, furious. “Die!” He sent volleys of shadow at us. I ducked, avoiding some, but not all. I was thrown backward, and slammed into the dirt. Some hit the youth, who fell to his knees in pain.

 

Melvesia approached the youth and raised his weapon. The youth raised his head. There was no fear in his face, only…acceptance? “No!” I stood and strode through magical resistance, fighting my way toward Melvesia. I raised my sword and dove at Melvesia, striking his shadow arm. The dark prophet howled and faltered. The young man seized his bow and darted away, nocking another arrow. I slashed at Melvesia again, and again. Light exploded with each swing. An arrow whizzed past me connecting with the shadowy torso, the Black Prophet howled in pain.

 

“Beg! Now, you beg!” I roared, slashing, hacking at the inky shadow. Melvesia recoiled, holding up his hands which now leaked black liquid.

 

“You will be your own end boy…” the prophet rasped. My sword cut across his face, light exploded. The shadows whirled and surged. The gray clouds pushed away to reveal blue skies. The magic pulsed across the surreal realm, wiping away the filth and grime. It became beautiful again. The tree flourished, leaves bursting. I felt the crown above my head. I looked to see dirt stains and blood upon my clothing. The wind swirled lightly across the grain that shifted around us like an ocean. The others were gone. The sun shone brightly and the youth stood before me, smiling.

 

“You have done well,” he said. “However, I fear that was only the beginning. Melvesia was careless, weak. The others may not be, should they arise.” He did not seem fazed. Synthril and Uriel walked up behind him, both looking pleased. I reached for the crown and took it off. It did not feel heavy anymore.

 

“It was a sound victory in a battle that has been waged for an eternity.” Uriel spoke. I moved toward the Great Prophet and offered the crown.

 

“This is yours.” I bowed.

 

“No,” the youth laughed. “We should be the ones bowing to you. Rise.” I did, and the youth, Uriel, and Synthril knelt before me. Braden stood behind them. Caleb and David were there. So were Lidia and the Queen. The king and people of Elijah all stood in the fields and knelt.

 

Thunder ripped across the sky and everything wrapped in golden light.

 

                                                                  ****

 

As the shadows rolled back from the lands of Elijah, the throne room remained empty save for the fallen Prince and Braden. Jeremy Worthington was not there, nor was he seen after his disappearance from the throne room. When Braden awoke, he saw the Crown of Elijah, resting in the middle of the floor.

 

Royal Guards, with the queen at their lead, flooded the Seat. The agents of the Black Dawn whom they expected to face were not there. As the final blow to the Black Prophet Melvesia was struck, his agents vanished.

 

Prince David was found, unconscious, barely alive. He was taken into custody by the Royal Guard and charged with treason against the Crown.

 

The Seat underwent reconstruction. During this time, the Throne Room was sealed.

 

Westfield was rebuilt, and Jeremy’s family returned without their older son or any knowledge of him. They mourn his disappearance to this day.

 

Lidia and Caleb were put to rest below the Tree of Elijah. Both had been declared heroes of the kingdom

 

David joined his uncle in Jarvaxia later that year.

 

Shadows and whispers, these of his own making, continued to plague his mind, and he committed suicide.

 

The Queen reinstated order within Elijah, trade routes were reopened, and ambassadors from Venz arrived to sign an official peace treaty.

 

Venz and Elijah are now on friendly terms.

 

Both countries are discussing expeditions to the North to search the Old Kingdoms of their ancestors.

 

Braden Extollere was named the Lord Reagent of Elijah, but refused to wear the crown when it was offered to him. His father was laid to rest below The Tree; his sister now serves as the Duchess of Riven.

 

Months after Jeremy disappeared, Braden set out to try to find his friend. He consulted old tomes and texts, and searched in many lands, but he did not find Jeremy. He returned to the Seat of Elijah, and resumed his role as Lord Regent, helping his aunt, the queen, govern the land.

 

Some say that Jeremy sacrificed himself to save the people of Elijah, that his final blow to the Black Prophet caused an influx of magic within the Haven of the Prophet, forcing everything within to be consumed. Others say Jeremy is the True Speaker, and will return only in great times of peril. This has yet to be confirmed

 

The throne room remained sealed, awaiting the true King of Elijah. The Crown of Elijah was put in the treasury, and is listed in the official inventory as an Heirloom to the Kingdom.

 

Five years passed and upon the anniversary of the battle at the Seat, a letter arrived addressed to Braden; it was from an old friend.

 

But that is another story, for another time.