The King Trials 2: Beyond.

Primus Kelan P.O.V

“I will heed to this farce no longer!”

“Then leave,” I prompt.

“….No.”

My rear slams against the chair—pain lances through my back—I cover it swiftly before Reinsbure can detect it. I loathe how he can do that, then he burdens me with his own concerns. I shift uncomfortably, seated behind an arched table that meanders from in front of the oversized window to the opposite wall. Peculiar. But at least a great source of light.

Reinsbure is too blinded by his perceptions to see anything else. But I cannot blame him. The thought of rouge Avangard soldiers is deplorable, let alone ones that have been contributing to this mayhem is even more mortifying.

But I have muted my reservations and widened my vision to all the prospects on the grim to grisly spectrum of possibilities. It is all too alarming that terror factions from Urium would plague foreign counterparts that have no business or reason to care for the politics of our regime.

“That tavern-scoundrel could have been lying.”

“But why those lies?”

I stare off into the distance aimlessly, waiting patiently for his rebuttal.

“Wait.” His footsteps thud closer to me. “What is this?”

My head rotates to watch him snap forward and snatch the letter off the table, skimming over it before he skewers me with an aghast look. He holds it up and waves it pointedly.

“The letter sent to Duce Merian, why do you have it?” He shoots out a silencing hand. “No, no. I should ask what absurd conspiracy have you spun pertaining to the Crown’s summoning, directly from the High King?”

“I thought you agreed that a measure of validity has diluted the absurd factor in my theories.”

He tosses it back. “You are not answering my very direct question.”

“There is something awry about the summoning.” I flick my hand towards it. “The instructions, in particular, it was oddly specific about the routes we had to take. If he feared that alternatives would have been compromised or that there is a crisis we are yet to be appraised of. Understood. But I recognise these roads.”

My eyes gesture to it.

Groaning irritably, he picks it back up and rereads it.

“All those roads are unmonitored; I do not believe that there is a military presence stationed out there, at nearly any of the appointed landmarks. If this was a matter of the realm’s security or the safety of the purebloods. Why choose unpatrolled routes?”

“The mountain pass at Ravenpeak, along the Lapice river to Fanghills is monitored by a Vanguard garrison,” he says with certainty.

I shake my head. “The outpost was decommissioned; they were relocated further from the border. I remember because General Deport informed me that there was a lot of terror activity straddling the crossing near the kingdom of Aelron. I personally notified their bureau, commanding them to send more troops to the region, and discourage nomad aggression.”

His certainty falls from his face.

“Exactly.” I pivot my shoulders to observe him better. “Which is why I will not gamble any more risks. If by chance this is a forgery.” My anger breaches a new tier in a millisecond. “I will not stupidly walk into yet another ambush. No. This time I will be several steps ahead.”

“And what if the High King truly awaits our advent?”

I casually throw up a hand. “It will not matter; we will travel to Urium. We have no choice but to, regardless of the summoning. The troubles that brew like the wind, where it comes, and where it goes, is yet to be known. The only thing I will change is how we get there; it will take the same duration, but I will use different routes.”

He looks down at me with a worry line engraved on his forehead, shaking his head at me many times.

“The mountain pass is a choke point, nowhere to flee, we can be flanked by all sides. No, we will journey to Ben-Nun to reach the Fanghills and cross the southern prairies to reach the Sula province, passing through the Tent-city. From their harbour, we take an airship straight to the Pantheon.”

Reinsbure snickers without humour, he ambles behind me and moves forward to stand beside the table, his back resting against the window as he folds his arms.

“Have you told Duce Merian about your new revisions?”

“What for?”

He looks back at me reproachfully. “Primus, you cannot make these executive decisions without him—”

“I can.” I incline my head at him. “The High King empowered me with the authority tantamount to my rank to make whatever decisions I deem necessary to ensure the safety of the purebloods.”

Reinsbure releases another scornful laugh. “You mean the safety of one. You and I both know that not all of them were supposed to make it out alive. Only one. As there can only be one High King, one inheritor.”

I brace forward to pound each elbow on the edge of the table, echoing my frustration.

I shield my eyes with my hand, fingers massaging my temples. “You have but exhausted my tolerance of you, leave me. Return to your chambers and rest.”

“Rest?” He barks out a derisive guffaw. “Do I look like Hera Aurora? You cannot order me to go and rest as if I was your child.”

I drop my hand and glower at him, ramping up the degree of my glare to a searing scald. “I do not care what you do but be it out of my sight.”

Reinsbure chuckles again. “Do you honestly think I am still frightened by your death stare?”

He lifts himself and walks beyond my periphery, but that is as far as he goes, merely behind me. I turn my head stiffly to look down at my shoulder.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You said whatever I do, be it out of your sight.”

“Reinsbure.”

He frees a gut-sourced guffaw as he makes his way out of my quarters, his laugh fading.

“I told Blackwell to pinch a few cloves of herbs from the Nivalis infirmary. The ones with the curative properties I told you about. Do have some.”

“Reinsbure,” I say warningly.

“How many cycles have I known you, followed you into fray after fray. You think I cannot tell when you are swallowing your pain? Take it or I will force feed you.”

“Get. Out.”

Finally, he leaves. The door closes behind him.

My attention locks on what’s before me. I slide the random document a few inches downwards to glimpse the top of the hand-written, roasted-yellow parchment.

After dinner, most of our convoy retired to their quarters. We have undergone a long and punishing excursion both within and without Urium. But something grows in the womb of time, developing in the sheath of an enigma. A pandemonium yet to be birthed.

There is nothing dangerous than a threat unknown.

“Primus Kelan.”

I revolve to see Aries, his face hidden under his hood.

He draws it off, revealing his steel-tipped hair. “I noticed we changed course; we no longer face true north.”

“Are we no longer returning to Urium?”

I spin around to see Anthia, the spearhead tattoo on her forehead demands my attention.

I take a step back to look at them both, my gaze rebounding. “We are still inbound to Urium. How we get there is of no concern, either way, you will be compensated.”

“You think we complied for monetary benefit?”

I fix my gaze on Aries. “Why else would you risk your lives so?” My corrosive tenor causes my words to rust. “Unless you are explorers who found this expedition to be a chance of a lifetime to embark on an adventure.”

Anthia scoffs, her hood still on. “If so. We would not embark on foot through Night Desert and risk being maimed by desert demons or sail the Azura.”

“No,” her brother harmonises. “We did this because our High King gave the order. Like you, we are loyal to the Crown.”

I hold back a snort. “You are nothing like me.”

I march forward.

“And why not?” Anthia says to my back. I force myself to face her again. “Because we not soldier like you? An Avangardian willing to die like you? A Primus that can kill like you?”

The flap of the hood conceals her eyes but exposes her reedy and rotten lips peeling into a stomach-churning smirk.

“I know you are not fond of our kind, but don’t presume to think you know what kind of beings we are. Not all magic wielders are evil, it depends on how one wields it.”

“I do not know what impression I gave you that you thought I would care about your little sentiment.” I look back at her brother. The hard angles of his cheekbones sharpens into a scowl. “But if you were to wield it in a manner unfitting to a loyal subject of the Crown. I will show you how unfond I am of your kind,” I say with the same emotion as a corpse.

I rotate and a passing wind billows my burgundy cape as I drift beside the waist of the ship, sauntering down to the Skydeck where I see a familiar form standing in the privy. I make my way across and up the metal stairs to the peak of the ship.

Aurora gazes longingly at the horizon as if she can see what lies beyond. Even though much of the scenery is peppered with thick clouds.

Twilight comes as a tangible whisper of the stars to come, a promise of starlight, the imminent fall of the light, and the foreshadowing of the darkness that the night helms. It is a living painting, and she is the canvas in which it imparts its glorious colours on, hues of dark purple, and the strias of molten orange.

I sidle her flank. I do not say anything. Instead, I share this moment with her and bask in her presence. Though I can sense her emotions like the flicker of a flame, a distant sound but a palpable feeling. I do not know what to say. I have never been good at that. I would rather plunge into a battle, facing off a thousand foes than unbury my feelings, resurrecting something that volatile and crippling.

But for her, I would go there. I would go deep.

I sneak a look at her. Covertly. A mere sideways glance. Normally she would have said something by now. Though it is her that usually does the approaching.

I steal another glance, but this one lasts longer. My eyes trace every outline of her face, each delicate but strong feature. There is something disturbing in her eyes; still and deadly. My gaze glides down to her chest, and it lingers around a turquoise gemstone that hangs from her neck.

She reaches up to clutch it, as if to protect it from my attention.

I look up at her eyes and our gaze finally meets, a moment fraught with perforated tension, a silent fervour. Her eyes are dark, blackened like foliage after a forest fire. Despite it, the ember of her light burns, her strength is still in there, an eternal flame that can never be extinguished, it will endure for as long as she lives.

Because she is strong, stronger than I.

“Where did you retrieve that?”

She knows exactly what I am referring to because her grip only tautens.

She wrenches her gaze away. “From Solaris.”

Guilt prickles me, reflexively, I crush it. “Forgive me, I did not mean to… remind you.”

Her hand drops, and she clutches the railing instead. “I am grateful that you did. Ask. Because I have been lost in my memory of that day before everything erupted. The Ulris proxies, Vilnus’s cursed puppets.”

Her head gradually slants from side to side. “He was not there for me. He did not know that the Sagetai’s had arisen or that I was among them until I exposed myself. At the end.”

I recall the ordeal. My mind delves through the recollections, replaying them at a fast pace, backward until the start. The beginning. An isolated settlement in Nivalis, destroyed at Vilnus’s command. Then they reappeared as if they were waiting for us.

But what if they were not, and we happened to walk in on them?

“Purebloods of the Decuria,” I repeat thoughtfully, mimicking their menacing tenor.

Aurora frowns at me.

A cold dawning settles on me. “He was not cajoling, he was surprised.”

Perplexation stresses her frown. “Surprised?”

“There is no way he could have foreseen our advent, only if he was told and that is implausible.” I turn away, pacing to and fro. “Before Pavelia, it was confirmed that there was an additional troop. Scouts, proxy-like, they were meant to locate the threshold, wherein Urium would they need to split open the portals to usher in Ulris forces.”

Aurora faces me with a dread-filled look. “But you said, before Pavelia. There are still many moons before the Eternal Eclipse. Besides, he knows from the previous breach where the five focal points are, and from there he will seek to domineer all twelve provinces.”

I pause. “I think this is about preventing a repeat of history. He means to learn from his mistakes or at least avert other hindrances that might oppose him.”

Aurora purses her lips in scepticism. “The Guardians. Allegedly, it was the Priestess of Velheim that sealed the last rift. If that were the case, why was he—they or it at Nivalis?”

I clasp my hands behind me. “They had the aid of the sun crystal before. It shattered when the rift closed. Velheim or its mythical Guardians do not a pose a real threat. It seems there is only one who is destined, strong enough to stop him, foil whatever scheme he has concocted, and put an end to him once and for all.”

She flicks a glare at me and turns away.

I walk forward to stand at her side.

“This is a fight you cannot run from—”

“I have never run from anything in my life,” she says with undertones of resentment. “When I had to learn, I learnt. When I had to fight, I fought.” Unyielding conviction drives her words. “I have never given up on anything, nor will I ever. But I also know when to let go.”

She looks up at me, a shimmer of regret in her eyes. “When we arrive at the Pantheon, I will revoke my participation in the King Trials. I may not know the severity of my own fate, but I know that I am undeserving of a crown. The people deserve someone worthy of them—they deserved Solaris. And I —” her finger stabs her chest, “—robbed them of that possibility.”

She turns to leave, but she jerks to an abrupt standstill.

I glance down at my hand seizing her arm.

“You cannot let your grief cloud your judgment.”

Her gaze sinks to the floor.

She then rips her arm out of my grasp—a sleeve tears off my heart.

She swivels to face me with newfound buoyancy, the origin ambiguous. “I have never seen more clearly. Solaris once told me that Urium is a fractured place, it needs to save itself before it seeks to save others.”

She gestures to her hair. “I think I should learn how to save myself first. I am not shirking off my responsibilities, merely prioritising them.” Resolve steels her eyes. “I do not fear my fate. Like everything else, I fear not living up to it, as I remember you said; it is not just about my life. The Sagetai is called the light, but it is capable of such darkness.”

I shake my head vigorously. “Darkness can never overpower the light; it is the only thing that can overcome it. Even the abysmal darkness must give way to the light. You are the evidence of that. Even the malignancy within you cannot dim your truth that shines so brightly. It is a light of hope that all needs to see; to believe in.”

Doubt injures her resolve. “What I must do. It cannot be done in the King Trials. There are things about the Sagetai I need to understand, I must learn to control this power so it will never control me again.”

She breezes towards me. Hesitantly, she lifts her hand to my cheek, her fingers grazing the skin, trailing absent lines. My eyelids fall close for a moment, savouring every ounce of her touch.

“It seems our decisions have severed our intertwined paths.”

My eyes open slowly. I gaze into her transformed irises, livened shades of emerald.

The words tumble out in a rush. “I would never decide to desert you.”

“No,” she says with a saccharine tone, her words honeyed with acceptance. “You only decided to let me go.”

She retracts her hand, and I can feel scruples of my strength get sapped from my body.

“And now I know I must do the same.”