The King Trials 2: Beyond.

Kelan’s rough whispers is like a shard of broken glass that cuts through me, his voice reaching me from a floating void and yanking me back to the world of the living, back to the traumatic pain which greets me with rupturing agony, rippling, evolving into new tiers.

There are other unfamiliar voices, one is harsh and assertive, the other small and timid.

I try to open my eyes, but they are a heavy burden.

Though the pain gnaws at every inch of me, it is concentrated in my abdomen, only mounting to unfathomable heights, death refusing to release its grip on me. Suddenly I feel soft and feminine hands press into my stomach—electric shocks jolt me into full consciousness, pain explodes behind my eyes and they fly open.

My vision gradually clearing. I see three blurry faces hover over me. The one I mark instantly, Hades-black hair dangling above his forehead. The other two women, one younger, the older one with grotesque scars that mars her face. Another round of pain crashes through me, a deafening, resonating sound blares in my ears. I writhe in pain, quaking violently, clutched by a seizure that rends my sight null, fuzzy spots swimming, flitting in and out.

“You must fight,” Kelan repeats, his voice a lifeline, “you must fight.”

And I wish I could. I have promises to keep.

But there is no fighting death.

As I once said. I will never give up. But despite all idealistic beliefs of willpower and strength, all the will in the world cannot save me, but I can dare to show true strength and accept this fate. My fate. My destiny. For it was foretold, was it not? Perceivably my death, my failure and the rise of another, the New Dawn that will succeed where I have failed, that will right this great wrong.

Yes. A great wrong. War comes. And it must come. For a great wrong must be righted, a wrong that grows greater with every life borne, and every life taken.

Pressure grows on my stomach again, every ounce of heft feels like it strains at my wound, pulling me back to the void. I focus on the light, on my Regnum, my family. The pain dulls, fading into the background, the love I espouse for them eclipses the enormity of my suffering. My doting, overbearing mother who I cherish. My sister who is my very breath; I can almost hear the harmony of the qualem that she strums beautifully, luring me into a painless haven, her reassuring smile; no bond is greater than ours.

And my father, who looms so large in my life I thought him as immortal as the stars. The way he invested such faith in me, the reason persists to elude me, even when I was young and naïve to the realities of this world, and to a potential in me that I was still to discover.

My head rolls to the side, bleary figures zip back and forth at my flank.

But is this truly how I will perish? How I will be remembered?

My death would spurn the legacy of Valwa. And what of the world? Emikrol. Urium. If I lay rotting, who will save them for the power-grabbing Empire and the coming tyranny of the Ulris.

“It will no longer be your concern,” Rimnick’s voices. “This is how you will truly aid the world. Let go. Succumb and cause no further harm. Let go. Solaris awaits you.”

The frantic speech of the three that frenzy around me, their words drowned as if spoken under water. My gaze slogs past two of them to the shadowy eidolons that line the wall like convicted felons on death row. I feel so foolish. I have allowed my emotions to rule over me, clouding my judgement: I let grief overtake me, my shame to plague me and fears to oppress me. But no more. If I must die, I will go in peace and not with the torment of this world like a weight around my neck.

Though I cannot physically say it; my own body rejecting my instruction.

I look in Rimnick’s direction. I forgive you. Not because you deserve forgiveness or that you even showed a smidgen of remorse for what you did, but for the sake of my peace. I forgive you. Even though you are dead, it I was that withered. Forgiving feels—it is like letting a contemptible prisoner free only to release that it was myself all along.

And now, you have no hold over me.

For I too forgive myself, and what I have done, and what I have caused.

The eidolon’s face disintegrates, melting like hot wax before the shadows vaporise into nothingness, followed by Tamani, Dario and Zekei deteriorating out of ethereal existence, leaving behind only Solaris.

Solaris. My guilt. The very foundation of why I dreaded the Sagetai’s power, that something that was meant to do good is capable of such horror, by consequence, a casualty of something I lacked to control, as was your life being snuffed out. You deserved so much better. I will see you once again, loyal friend.

The eidolon grins before it vanishes.

I do not resist the pain; I embrace it. My only dismay is the world I leave behind for the ones I care for to suffer. Who will protect them if I could not? Who will safeguard the realm if the Sagetai failed to do so?

The prophecy presaged a new era. The one that will herald in a new age. But I was also told that it was He who sent one(s) like me, weapons, catalysts, of peace to fight in His Name. The seed of hope. I thought at first that it was the Sagetai, but it is not. The seed. A seed can also refer to something different, someone different.

Rising pain veers me off my trail of thought, threatening to overpower me.

Is this how I die?

The Light but a vessel, It only burns to guide others, It only lives to die for others.

It is Him. It is you. How does the tribute of my life save others?

You will save all. But first you must be willing to die to yourself. I told you; it has always been your choice.

Oh, how my grimmest fears had led me down a dark path. From this moment forth, I select another. And I now know my answer. As you have chosen me, so shall I choose you, and I surrender my life as a sacrifice. Though I do not understand. I place my trust in you, and I will no longer depend on my fleeting strength or my own limited understanding.

If it is my life, I must give to save my family, to save my realm I shall pay that price.

All of these mysteries will be known, but not on this day.

Scorching, excruciating pain like rushing acid corroding my insides and for the first time I can hear my own voice. My own scream. Thrusted into a vacuum of all-consuming torture, jarring, penetrating, aching my very bones.

You will be My vessel and My Light will shine through you, brighter than the noonday sun.

My scream amplifies like the resounding echo of a crowd.

You. Are. Reborn.