In the vast, pale floating castle, an honorable man was walking with purpose in his steps. His distinguished figure was draped in white fabric that billowed around him as he moved. Upon a closer look, the material glittered with golden and silver threads with every movement, unlike the humble uniforms everyone else wore. It was his only luxury in this dreary, boring place, as the man could not be any different from the crowd. He was cordially greeted by the passersby, but with dismissive nods in their direction, the man did not stop for any conversation. When no one was looking, the polite face melted away, revealing a contemptuous sneer at the never-ending serenity and ghastly whiteness of the enchanted castle. Oh, how he despised and secretly desired this sacred place. The expansive magic in the air was breathtaking, but the locals were nothing more than senile old men and obstinate women. However, Endarno was a patient man. He vowed to himself that he would drastically improve everything in his own image. Even the roots of this place will be uprooted under his rule. He only needed to bide his time while quietly eliminating the opposition.
With gritted teeth, the man smiled, greeting another Elder, but inside he snarled. All of his previous carefully laid plans were thwarted by one royal brat. He will make him suffer and revel in his enemy's anguish, taking everything away until there is nothing left but ruins. One clever Queen and her offspring erased everything he so painfully worked for on Metamoor. He would have already ruled one Kingdom if it weren't for them. Yet by a mere chance, in his most vulnerable moment, when he lost everything, something better was gained. An unexpected bystander, an official ambassador from the Kandrakar…
There was always a better, bigger, and higher prize. Kandrakar will soon fall under his rule, and no one will dare to oppose him. All the delicious magic in the world would be at his fingertips. He merely had to wait... And he was good at it. Centuries came and went as he weaved the plans and devoured the magic of the Worlds. One host after another, one planet after other, and now this was his ultimate reward for all the defeats endured. The bitter taste of it never left him. He will ruthlessly destroy the princeling, beginning with his most cherished possessions. The man smirked, his intelligent face contorting into a delighted expression. It has already begun. It didn't matter how long the Prince tried in vain to delay the inevitable; there was no going back. The figures on the board were moving in his favor, and now he will have another weapon at his disposal.
Before his eyes was a room, enormously vast and saturated with magic and brilliant colors. The room seemed to pulsate with energy, as if every corner was saturated with it. The distinct sensation hung heavy in the air and hummed like invisible strings, creating a harmonious melody. In the middle of the hall were gently floating, glowing orbs. They sparkled and danced in the tightly knitted circle, never stopping moving, only changing their brightness or size, like small suns.
Endarno licked his suddenly dry lips, inhaling the charged air. They were so bright to look at. It almost hurt his eyes. He was so engrossed in the dazzling colors that he failed to notice a woman standing behind him.
'What are you doing here?' The sudden question startled him out of his daze.
'Good afternoon, Luba, I did not notice you here.' Regaining his polite appearance, Endarno greeted the lady.
'I asked you a question?' She raised her bushy eyebrow, looking unimpressed by his greeting.
'We had a deal. I will get rid of the current Guardians, and you will select your students as the new potentials looking away from my dealings.' He hissed at the sudden audacity of the catwoman.
'Perhaps we have mutually agreed to those terms, but you possess no right to be here. As the Guardian of Aurameres, I request that you leave.' She calmly showed him the door.
'I cannot do that...' Endarno hissed and struck her; for a split second, his eyes flashed black as the spell was cast. With her eyes rolling inside her head, Luba slumped to the cold floor with a silent thud. Without any remorse for the fallen woman, he turned around and approached the shining orbs. His hand unconsciously reached for the power thrumming beneath the fingers, but suddenly defensive magic reacted, and he swiftly withdrew. Endarno shook his severely burned arm, narrowing his eyes into the tiny slits and looking at the pink skin on the palm that was already healing. This shield was not here before. The pent-up rage seething inside him ignited, forming a black ball of flames. Sending it flying inflicted no damage; it harmlessly crashed on the sheer protective bubble of energy. Snarling, the man threw spell after spell with no effect. Frustration overwhelmed Endarno as he realized his spells were futile against the impenetrable defense. Abruptly, he stopped, patted down his disheveled hair, and took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders, trying to get rid of the lingering tension. If the physical attacks did no lasting damage, there was no use in being angry. It was not the first time unexpected circumstances had occurred. An eager grin appeared on his face, and he formed a microscopic black worm in his hands. It slithered through the air, wriggling with black tendrils, looking for any flaw in the shield. As it wormed its way inside the bubble, the magic began to crackle. The foul thing creepily crawled on the colorful orbs before settling on the red one. As if discovering the weakness it wriggled before disappearing inside the glistering magic. The room shuddered and became eerily silent as Endarno smiled with success. One by one, the Guardians will fall under his influence. It will begin slowly by sowing discord among them. He looked at the pink orb with apparent disdain and envy. When he's finished with her, the Guardian of the Heart will willingly give up her magic; if not, there are always more brutal alternatives. Endarno looked around the room, laughing quietly to himself. Nothing had changed, but he could see a tiny black dot in the middle of the red Auramere. Fire appeared to be the weakest of the bunch. Good... Let it burn and consume everything until it dies with smoldering embers. He walked out of the hall, smugly satisfied, without even looking at the unconscious woman. She will not remember a thing.
Someone was knocking on the door. The insistent thumping broke through the dense fog in his mind, and he opened his eyes with a tired groan. He slowly sat up, rubbing his temples, trying to shake off the remnants of his drowsiness. The tapping continued, growing louder and more urgent with each passing moment.
'My Lord, is everything alright? My lord?' His butler kept asking as he attempted to unlock the door.
'Guards! Guards!' The voice moved away, most likely to seek assistance from the nearest soldier. Phobos sighed, realizing he'd fallen asleep in the middle of the untidy room in an undignified manner. He was exhausted to the bone, and the usual magical reserves coursing through his veins were depleted. Standing up and languidly taking a clear pitcher of water, he filled the glass and quenched his thirst. Why had he so foolishly wasted power? His mind moved at a snail's pace. The recent events slowly resurfaced, and Phobos grimaced. Elyon made a mess of things; not only did she try to kill the one person he was interested in, but she also managed to cause damage to the subjects of their kingdom. He couldn't help but feel a mix of anger and frustration towards his sister. The consequences of her actions were far-reaching, and he knew it would take a great deal of effort to repair the damage. As he contemplated the best course of action, a sense of resolve washed over him, pushing aside his exhaustion. Fixing his appearance and getting the stray glass shards out of his hair, Phobos released the defensive wards and strode out.
'My Prince?' a nervous butler asked, meeting him in the corridor, followed by two impassive guards. Phobos nodded at the servant, his expression determined. 'Prepare a meeting with the Court immediately and clean the room. Guards, find Cedric and Elyon and bring them to the throne room. If they refuse, drag them by the hair for all I care. I want to see everyone in the throne room in an hour.' He commanded with a steady voice as he passed by.
'Very well, my Lord.' With their orders received, they bowed respectfully and hurried away.
After getting to the bedroom and closing the door, he leaned on the hardwood in the privacy of his wing and let out a deep sigh. In this place, no servant would dare disturb him. The only one who could was busy gathering the Court, and he never crossed the threshold unless it was for cleaning. Phobos was well aware that most previous Queens made their bedrooms a grand spectacle for the Ladies in Waiting and any influential people. He defiantly refused to turn the intimate resting place into a performance of court etiquette. Here, he could take off all the masks and be just a man, not a ruler. Sometimes the faithful butler complained quietly about not being able to attend to the Prince's needs. However, being aware of his preferences, the old servant never made any deliberate attempts to call the personal valet to get him washed or dressed up. Phobos had carefully curated his bedroom to reflect his true self, with simple furnishings and personal mementos that held sentimental value. The soft lighting and soothing natural colors created a tranquil atmosphere that was the perfect retreat after a long day of royal duties and obligations.
He stepped into the adjacent bathroom and tapped on the hot water to fill the massive white tub, carelessly dropping the silk shirt on the backrest of the chair. Taking a crystal bottle from the shelf and pouring a few drops of the amber-colored oil into the bath, he let the rich aroma fill the room. As soon as the bath filled, the prince stripped and submerged himself in the water with a silent hiss. As he closed his eyes and leaned back, the warmth of the water enveloped his tired muscles, easing away the tension from the day. The soft light flickered on the walls, casting a gentle glow that added to the serene ambiance of the room. Phobos looked at the vapor, which was forming strange shapes, resting his head on the edge of the tub. With a sweep of a hand, it became denser and gathered, forming hazy womanly figures. Another motion, and they began gracefully dancing around the room.
Phobos chuckled at the silly game, recollecting a time when Weira created magnificent creatures before bedtime. He missed those playful moments, and as the figures continued their ethereal dance, he felt a pang of nostalgia for those innocent childhood days. He was exhausted, but there was no rest, just a brief respite where no one could see him. Slowly, Phobos let himself sink under the water. Looking at the distorted light display above the surface, he relaxed. There were no expectations, only memories of happier times and plans. He needed to deal with Elyon. The girl had far too much freedom. She will put everyone in even greater danger if this goes on. He couldn't take the chance and let her hurt Will, not anymore. Maybe their connection was risky and unwise, but he couldn't lie to himself; the desire grew. Not for the magic or power of the Heart of Kandrakar, but only for her. A courageous, bold, and attractive woman she could become. Why, after all this time, did someone manage to get through his impenetrable armor? Why now? When he is losing everything and has nothing to offer but darkness and a miserable end. Is this what the universe is telling him? Enjoy your last moments until they run out. He had no idea, but it was already too late to turn back. Not after her sweet surrender to his magic, feeling the fluttering pulse point under his lips, or their impressive display of the conjured storm. He was captivated by her vulnerability and the way she let him in despite his darkness. It was a stark contrast to the power and control he had always held over others. Perhaps their connection was merely a cruel twist of fate. Or it was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is still room for love and passion. The universe seemed to be telling him that, despite his impending doom, there was still a glimmer of hope...
Phobos sat up, taking a few deep breaths and flicking his dripping hair away from his face. There was no time to waste. The Court was waiting. He stepped out of the bath and let the air currents dry his body. Elemental magic for convenience was the first thing that young children learned. The small displays of practical application were the most useful in everyday life. According to his observations, the Guardians still needed to learn this lesson, but he doubted Kandrakar would help them with that. It did not fit with their glorious purpose. Phobos smirked, pondering whether he should teach Will; she had abilities but was still unaccustomed to using them. Maybe one day. She was still suspicious of his actions. He cannot disagree; Will had sufficient reasons. Hopefully, one day he will be able to reveal the entire truth, even if it means losing her forever.
Stepping into the walk-in closet, he carefully selected the appropriate clothing. Dressed in tightly woven, soft black cotton pants, knee-high leather boots, and a black silk high-collar shirt fastened with gem-incrusted buttons, he completed the look with a purple mantle decorated with ornamental patterns. The silver thread was sewn into the rich-looking, heavy fabric to give it a sheen every time he moved into the light. Sitting beside a heavy, elaborately ornate mirror and plaiting his hair into his signature braids, Phobos decided to forego the usual crown. He chose a silver circlet with purple gems attached to the thick, spiky band and seamlessly weaved it into the hair. It wrapped around his head, holding the braids in place with small glittering gems, and in the center of his forehead sat an entwined metal piece with a dark violet diamond. Putting on the leather and metal-engraved vambraces and fixing the ceremonial sword onto the belt, the Prince walked out, presenting an intimidating figure.
A hush fell over the assembled crowd as he entered the throne room with his imposing guards by his side. Photos sat on the throne, flinging his robe out of the way and looking disapprovingly over the people who avoided his intense gaze. In the middle of the hall, the soldiers were watching over Elyon and Cedric as they cowered in apprehension, their eyes darting around for unease. Prince's presence alone seemed to command respect and instill a sense of unease among those in his presence.
'It would appear that some of you believe my commands can be blatantly disregarded. I've gathered you here in order to dispel this absurd notion. They are absolute!' His authoritative voice boomed in the hall, and Phobos smirked, seeing some of the people nervously fidgeting.
'Just a few hours ago, the rebels wreaked havoc on our city, while the Guardians breached the castle walls and freed the prisoners from the dungeons. Where were you when my people needed assistance?' he inquired, releasing a fraction of his magic to create intense pressure in the hall. The room fell silent as the pressure intensified, causing beads of sweat to form on some of the foreheads of those present. The crowd shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet Phobos' gaze as his question hung heavily in the air.
'Deliver me the damage report!' He growled menacingly, adding anger to the air and relishing the fear it instilled.
'Your Majesty,' the secretary of state bowed before him, 'the most damage was done to our weapons storage and barracks. The fire spread to a few rooftops in the streets but was quickly extinguished by the rain. The majority of those injured during the stampede were primarily bruised or had broken bones. Regrettably, I have to inform you that five of our soldiers died in the initial blast. We are still calculating the amount of damage inflicted on the dungeons, but the collapsed tunnels have slowed our progress.' The diligent man bowed even lower, fearful that the dissatisfying report would enrage the prince even more. Phobos narrowed his eyes in displeasure but allowed the man to return to his place in the crowd.
'Vathek,' he summoned the captain of the army. 'Erect temporary tents for those in need of shelter. Commander Frost, assemble the military unit to clear the rubble. Treasurer Meric, authorize all the blacksmiths around the capital to focus on weaponry until the usual requirements are met. To repair the dungeons, summon the stonemasons and carpenters.' He issued the commands, and the crowd began to move after receiving their instructions. The silent conversations filled the air as people hurriedly relayed the orders to their respective teams. Some expressed relief, knowing that help was finally on its way, while others exchanged worried glances, uncertain of what lay ahead. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation.
'I am not finished...' The Prince's voice was audible over the whispers. 'Imagine my surprise when I learned that General Cedric, my right hand, was responsible for all of this misfortune and mayhem.' Phobos commented with a raised eyebrow on his impassive face. A shudder went through the audience as Cedric and Elyon were led before the throne and pushed to their knees.
'What do you have to say for yourself?' he asked mockingly, wanting to prolong the considerable anxiety that had settled in the hall. The Prince's eyes narrowed as he waited for Cedric's response, knowing that whatever he said would be meaningless because he would have to condemn him in the eyes of everyone present. The silence stretched on, tension thickening in the air as all eyes focused on the general, awaiting his words.
'I have no excuse, my liege...' Cedric immediately lowered his head in a silent apology. He knew the games they played in court and understood the consequences of defying authority. The weight of his words hung heavy in the room, leaving an unsettling atmosphere that no one dared to break.
'It was my idea!' The clear voice of Elyon resounded across the hall as she stood up, ignoring the pushing of the soldiers. Phobos laughed at the girl's audacity, and loathing filled his heart because he couldn't do anything about it. The situation was too complicated for him to sufficiently punish her in such a public setting. When the Court learns about her official status as the missing heir to the throne, the potential consequences will be very damaging. Elyon, however, was unable to object to anything as long as she was under an obligation to keep her identity a secret, which allowed him to use it to his advantage.
'Silence!' His magic responded by creating a suffocating atmosphere that made it impossible for anyone to speak. The room grew uncomfortable as everyone struggled to catch their breath, their eyes pleading for release from the oppressive force. Elyon paled, and the guard forced her to the knees once more.
'Lord Cedric, rein in your impudent pupil, or I'll have to instill some manners in her!' He clenched his jaw in apparent frustration.
'Please accept my apologies, my Lord; she is a mindless young lady. The girl did not mean anything by it.' The blonde man prostrated himself, bowing to the ground, and hissed something at Elyon, pushing her head down. Phobos pursed his lips. This political show was becoming tiresome. Cedric always skirted the line when given orders, but he was loyal, unlike Elyon. For a split second, the Prince closed his eyes, deciding the fate of the accused. This could not continue; he needed to maintain his notorious reputation and make an example of him because somebody had to fall for this mistake. Overhearing the people in the crowd whispering like snakes in the grass, waiting for any opportunities to strike, he took the initiative to address the crowd directly. With a commanding voice, he proclaimed, 'I will not tolerate any disloyalty or insubordination within my kingdom. Let it be known that those who defy me will face severe consequences.' The assembly fell silent, their whispers cut off by the Prince's stern words. 'You will be publicly flogged, Lord Cedric. Five strikes for each deceased individual, plus five additional strikes for disobedience and disrespect to my person. Until you are able to return, Captain Vathek will assume your responsibilities as the General. The punishment will commence immediately. Lady Elyon, until further notice, you will be confined to your apartments. Executioner!' He called the only person everyone was afraid of, and soon, the tall, hooded man wearing the leather uniform and black cloak emerged from the shadows carrying a dark wooden box. The people parted in his way, as if afraid to touch the undesirable person. Cedric was the only one left in the middle of the hall as Elyon was forcefully dragged away. When the man approached Cedric, he unlocked the box and pulled out the black, sinister-looking whip.
'Strip.' Everyone heard his silent direct order, and they all held their breath as they awaited the start of the penalty. Cedric stood up with his head held high and a stony face, but his hands trembled slightly as he was forced to undress. There was a deathly stillness in the room as Cedric slowly took off the light blue robe and unbuttoned the white shirt underneath. Gently, he folded the elegant garments and set them on the floor, exposing his unprotected physique. The sight of his chiseled body only intensified the anticipation for what was to come, as everyone braced themselves for the impending punishment. He knelt with a determined expression, pulling long hair from his pale, vulnerable back.
The first slash struck with an unexpectedly loud sound, leaving a red stripe on the pale skin. Cedric's muscles tensed, and his hands slightly shook and clenched into fists. With the second, he scrunched his face and closed his eyes, attempting to block out the pain. As the third fell, flesh rippled beneath the puckered skin, just as the magic attempted to repair the immediate damage. The enchantments on the whip prevented it from happening. The fourth had drawn the first blood, and Cedric's breath hitched as he swayed with a silent grunt, biting his lips until they bled. As the violent blows kept coming, his back became a terrible mess, and he could no longer hold back the agonizing scream. The pain surged through his body, causing his muscles to spasm uncontrollably. Every strike felt like a searing, hot iron was pressed against his raw, exposed flesh. With each blow, Cedric's vision blurred, and darkness threatened to consume him. The torment seemed never-ending, leaving him gasping for air and praying for the excruciating ordeal to finally come to an end. Cedric collapsed as the final blow landed, his blood freely flowing down the marble floor. He couldn't stop shaking, and every shallow breath made him gasp, echoing through the hall.
'Escort him to the healers.' Phobos addressed the guards with a detached voice and a mask of callous indifference. Cedric's body was limp and lifeless as the guards lifted him off the ground, their expressions betraying no sympathy for his suffering. As they carried him away, Phobos observed the scene, his eyes untouched by the pain he had inflicted.
Elyon stared in disbelief as the horror unfolded in front of her eyes. She couldn't understand how her brother could be so heartless and cruel. Nobody raised a finger to protest this injustice, and she was helpless to do anything to oppose it. This was also the most horrifying and gruesome thing she had ever seen. Elyon's heart sank as she realized the depth of the cruelty that existed in this world. As the cruel punishment continued, nausea stirred in her squeamish stomach. Despite her inability to watch, the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart remained in her mind long after she had turned away. Monsters. Everybody over here was a cruel monster. She undoubtedly saw some smiling faces genuinely enjoying the excessive violence and calculating ones merely looking to take advantage of the opportunity to rise through the noble ranks. Doubt began to creep into her heart. She, too, played a role in this dangerous incident. Elyon dashed to the doors, guards following, to vomit into the shadowy corner as her vision filled with unshed tears at this sudden realization. Feeling disgusted by the weak stomach and unsettled mind, she hovered anxiously at the edge of the crowd, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of how badly injured Cedric was.
'You will come with us.' The imposing, uniformed man seized her by the elbow. Even if she wanted to know how Cedric was holding on, Elyon reluctantly nodded, too afraid to object. She dutifully followed the armed men out through the castle's winding corridors until they arrived at her rooms, willingly surrendering to her faith. The frightened girl was nudged inside and left alone to deal with her confused and turbulent emotions. As she stood in the middle of her room, Elyon's mind raced with questions and uncertainties. The dull sound of the key locking the door sounded like a prison sentence.