The King Trials 2: Beyond.

Darkness betides, the night tore its claw in the sky, leaving a crescent scar.

Vince, Treyton, and I had taken a jaunt into the woods where we found a creek, bubbling waters rushing over polished rocks, the surrounding bed adorned with exotic flowers with pearlescent petals, colours of cosmic blues and purples. Starlight winnows through the undergrowth of the forest floors, pooling sparse areas with silver.

I lean against a hunched-over tree with sagging foliage that dangles like thick curtains, its bulging tree roots disappear into the waters, the heavens varnished on its surface. Vince rests against an identical tree opposite me with Treyton plopped down in the middle, his arms planted behind him, legs fully extended.

“Do you have any guesses on why we have been summoned back?”

I glance at Vince to include him in an unknowing look, but his gaze is on the waters, the lurid blue casts itself on his face, illuminating his eyes.

“I suppose, we are bound to find out,” he answers for himself.

“Treyton,” Vince says absently, his gaze afar. “If you were to be High King, what would your first decree be?”

Treyton mulls it over, dipping his head back to behold the celestial firmament. “It would not be a decree per se.” He drops his head; his long tresses sweep down to cover the sides of his face. “It would be a ruling. I would order the execution over every eldest descendant of the Decuria, fortunately, they are only a few remaining.”

A frown strikes my forehead. “What?” The word rockets out my mouth.

Treyton pushes his hair back with a seamless flourish. “It is nothing personal, merely a matter of politics to ensure one’s reign. If I were chosen, it is because of my right as a Herem, which only strengths the claim to the throne of the ones who share my own inherent power given by birth.”

Vince releases a humoured breath, which conflicts with his stale expression.

My eyes narrow into slits. “So you would kill us because we pose a threat?”

Treyton fastens his gaze on me, his face awfully relaxed. “How do you think kings stay kings or rulers come into their reign? They slew anyone that has the potential to oppose them. If you do not crush your enemies to the ground, they will only rise from the ashes to take revenge.”

Shock-stricken, a feeling like a wrenching fist to the gut.

“It is as I said, one must learn to rule with a velvet glove and an iron fist.” His features twist, contorting into a scornful look. “Besides, I would never trust either Markiveus or Brennon with the title to become Domus one day. Too much power.” He turns his head to glimpse Vince. “And you, Emikrollian, you are far too dangerous.”

Vince sighs, exhausted from the tiresome accusations against his person. “How so?”

Treyton looks forward again. “A war-honed noble, accomplished in a multipurpose set of skills in diplomacy and negotiation. You are feared by others and venerated by many; a reverence reserved for deities.”

Vince bends one leg and lays his hand on the knee. “You think you know me or my Regnum?” He chuckles grimly. “You know nothing.” His gaze penetrates him. “We are great not because of what we have done, but why. Emikrol has always fought for Urium and my ancestors who sacrificed it all to remedy what Cornelius poisoned. Now, do not begrudge me because of it, that I seek to ensure that my Regnum’s legacy will prevail.”

Treyton bops up to quickly raise his hands placatingly before dropping them back. “You asked.” He folds forward, stifling a curse. “I can feel hunger skewering into me. When do you think we will dine?”

Vince snorts. “When we make it. Unless the Avangard purchased food from the city.”

“Well,” Treyton says hopefully. “I think a meaty broth would do me good.”

He shakes his head like he’s disappointed. “Are you truly asking me to—”

“Yes,” he says aggressively, and adds, “unashamedly.”

“If so, I will require assistance.” He ascends to full height. “Aid me to forage for fresh ingredients, I like them organic, unlike most shopkeepers that ferment their food.”

Treyton creases his nose. “I doubt we would find wild game in these parts, particularly at this time.”

“Vegetable broth, then,” he says, shaking out his legs.

Treyton nods and scrambles up.

I move—pain bites deep into my insides. I fall back and wave my hand. “Go, I wish to remain here for a little longer.” Obscuring a wince with a contrived smile.

Vince eyes me curiously. “Are you certain?”

I nod, straining a smile.

“Perhaps we can steal away to a tavern where we can raise a pint to Solaris. The true victor who feasts with the gods of Ephraim.” Treyton claps Vince’s shoulder before he starts to walk away.

“I have seen how you are, after you have been sponged with liquor, and we are departing tomorrow,” he says to Treyton, but his eyes are fixated on me. Eventually, Vince follows after him as they both dissolve into the darkness, their voices ebbing into the night.

My body succumbs to the pain. It scorches, white-hot knives searing into my skin, trying to wring out a scream from me. I clutch my stomach, resting my head against the trunk, the sharp stabbing pain unabating. The pain is not what terrorises me, but the source of the pain and where it leads.

I inhale rapid, jagged breaths. My misery fading into a blunt throb.

I haul myself to my feet only to lose stability and crash to my knees. I swivel and lift one leg into a lunge as I’m brought to a pause. I stare down at a wavy reflection of the water showing me a distorted depiction.

Why are there two figures?

I whip around—an arm hook round my throat, tightening with fathomless fury. The cold tip of a dagger’s blade digs into the skin of my neck, not enough to pierce it but to give the impression that it will.

“Move again and I will slit your throat. How does it feel?” Words minced by gnashing teeth, palpable loathing like venom that corrodes his voice. “How does it feel to be at another’s mercy?”

Not my first time.

The pain bellows a resounding roar, it’s like a living fiend within, ravaging and ripping its way through me relentlessly.

“You deserve to burn.” I wince, drawing breath, saliva streaks through my teeth. A thin wet trail rolls down to my collarbone. “But I will show you a kindness and kill you here—”

I grab his wrist, beckoning for strength as I pry his hand away. I launch my head back and it knocks against his forehead; he releases me. Deftly, I disarm him and spring on him fist-first, pounding him to the ground.

“Yes!” he screams like a manic. “Do it!”

I unleash a barrage of thrusts, pulverising his face until he spews blood, splattering on his cheeks, his face whisking in the direction of my punches. I have to stop. But I can’t, I don’t want to.

I seize the dagger and raise it overhead.

Stop!

I freeze. I look at my trembling hand; the dagger raised over Markiveus’s chest. He belches out a broken laugh, dazed and drawn out, ghastly, discoloured bruises already forming on his face.

He rotates his head and spits out a glob of blood. He turns and flashes me a bloody smile with reddened teeth. “To call you a killer would be doing an injustice to your victims—” he convulses, lapsing into a short fit of coughs, “—you are an abomination. You mouth platitudes about peace and acceptance, but you wreak havoc. People fear the Ulris, an impending doom. Unaware of the true peril. Right. In. Front. Of. Them. Your facade does not fool me, I see what you are, devil!”

My hand tautens round the grip, heaving it high to deliver the final blow—Markiveus closes his eyes. I plunge it down, his breath hitches with a sharp inhale. His eyes burst open, our faces a breath apart. He glances at the blade embedded into the ground, an inch from his temple.

“I had nothing to do with Tamani or Zekei’s death,” I mutter. “I killed Rimnick because he was going to kill me, and Solaris—” I waver, I cling to my slippery resolve. “Do you think I wanted any of this? Lives lost at my hand. It should have been me, and a part of me wishes I had not stopped you. But I have a promise to keep.”

Markiveus eyes furies with untold despise, his nostrils flaring.

“It is one of the reasons why, when we reach the Pantheon, I will disbar myself from the King Trials. You will never have to see me again.”

I climb off him.

He grunts and snaps straight as he yanks out his dagger and rises to stand. He glowers at me, his arm raises to run his sleeve across his upper lip, only removing a small blotch of blood.

“What? Do you think running will somehow absolve you? You cannot escape what you have done.” He shakes his head furiously, vehemence stark in his eyes. “No-one is safe as long as you live. You better hope I am not chosen because if I am, I will task every abled body soldier to find you and bring you to me where I will tear off your limbs with my bare hands and feed your entrails to the wolves.”

Shame muzzles the sharp-toothed maw of my pain.

Markiveus chucks me one last, withering look before he pivots and storms off.

My hand cups my neck, and I sink to the floor, hanging my head.

“The Sagetai.” A chorus of bloodcurdling whispers erupts from the black recesses of the woods. “The great destroyer, what you have done is nothing compared to the devastation you will do when you come into your full power.”

“Stop,” I exclaim to the ground. “I may not know it all, but I am not what you say I am.”

Harrowing guffaws rebound, darting, coming from several places.

“Do you think because of your little, come-to-the-light moment, that you are what? You assume that it is the Sagetai’s power that has corrupted you. Power is incorruptible, it is how one uses it. You are the darkness you have come to fear. A malevolence that has always been in you.”

“Stop.” I rise. I scramble for crumbs of confidence. “I am not malevolent—”

“I think Dario would disagree.”

Despair grips my voice.

“You fed him to death with a smile. And Solaris, your beloved friend, you slew in a moment of uncurbed restraint. Remember, Aurora, it is all a choice, and you chose to eliminate them.”

“Enough!” My scream slices through the darkness.

“Aurora.”

I spin around. Primus Kelan emerges, his Hades-black nearly disappears into the night.

Breathing hard, I tussle for my calm, regaining my composure.

“Who were you talking to?” His eyes examine our vacant surroundings pointedly.

My mind strings jumbled letters together. “Nothing.” I grimace. “No-one.”

Kelan observes me with a cold regard. “The day you tried to take your life.” My chewed insides roil. “I was awoken by a… terrifying feeling, foreign and overpowering, it was difficult to breathe or think, I was pummelled by one instinct, gnawed by a single urge. To find you. Down the corridor of your bedchamber, I bumped into Greer. She spoke feverishly, I did not care for her words. Then.”

I glance at my knuckles, the wraps blemished with bloodstains.

“She said: She is talking to someone who is not there, I think she means to do herself harm.”

I tightly fold my arms to my chest, hugging myself.

“Who do you see?” He steps forward, I shrink from him. “What haunts you—”

I nearly wilt under his gaze, a smouldering forge of black.

“Tell me. You mentioned once that you made irredeemable mistakes.” His eyes soften by a hundred degrees. “Whatever they are. Do they still plague you?”

Dread clutches him, an invisible stake, nailing him to the ground. “Every moment.”

I give him an implicit look. “Then how did you overcome the guilt of your tragedies?”

He averts his gaze. “I have not.” He forces himself to look at me. “But this is not about me. You are nothing like me. What you have done, you had to do. And others. Do not let whatever malignancy torment you, to manipulate you into believing that you are anything but good. It made you—”

“It did not make me do anything!” I bark. “I made a choice. Not only did I let Dario die, but I made sure that he did.” Tears bludgeon my eyes. “I—I nearly killed Markiveus.”

“But you did not,” he says resolutely. “I watched you. I saw how he attacked you, and how you nearly lost control. But you had the strength not to give in, you fought against it, and that is what makes you good, better. You will defeat this because that is what you are. An overcomer.”

His arms lifts, opening wide for me. I rush at him, tangling my arms around him, melting into him, a safe haven, a refuge of true strength as he welcomes me in an all-encompassing embrace, awash by an effusion of warm comfort. His hand kneads the back of my head as I weep quietly into his chest. His fingers brush through my tresses, strumming the threads of serenity, rousing an inner peace that I did not know existed.

He hushes me lullingly. “One day… you will see.”