Episode 8: Changing Currents

  Chapter 025 - Looming Directive

  Wind stirred at the edge of the cliff, carrying the dry scent of old stone and thoughts without a clear direction. Xollor stood there, boots firm on the fractured ridge, overlooking a dark valley resting below the starlight. The land below shimmered with residual magic. Faint wisps of light clung to ferns, dancing around broken twigs.

  Something had happened here. He stared longer than he meant to, on the horizon that had no clear end. The paths to the wilderness could never be straight for once. Amidst restless trees, something coiled in his heart as he watched the absolute darkness. Even without clear proof, he knew something was left unresolved far out there. Somewhere, someone was alive.

  A sound came from behind him. A static pulse sizzled louder and louder. And then a screech accompanied it, thin and grinding, like teeth dragging across glass. He didn’t bother turning. But knowing the small tint of smoke whisping beside his view, it was the same familiarity.

  The Groggin stepped into place beside him. With one quiet step, the shadowy figure dressed in a black cloak gazed far with Xollor. Voice frigid, it said, “Your composure leaves us content. We will plan on no more interference with you.”

  Xollor’s jaw flexed once. “I killed him.”

  “So you thought,” the Groggin said. “But the boy lives.”

  He closed his eyes. Just for a moment. He didn’t ask how. He already knew the kind of answers creatures like this gave.

  “It’s the same one,” the Groggin added. “Same child you failed to kill. And now, you’ve made our masters feel troubled for the first time in this age.”

  Xollor’s fingers twitched at his sides. He turned slightly, but not toward the creature. “And you’ve come to mock me. Mock yourselves. You believed in his death. All of you. On the day that I’ve put my sword through, we saw the heart impaled. We saw the number reach zero. Mock yourselves.”

  It was quiet after that remark, but it continued. “We’ve come to remind you. Our masters are en route. You are not to move. You are not of use anymore.”

  He let the silence build again, long and brittle. In his mind, he saw the mother’s eyes, the wide, terrified eyes, locked on something she couldn’t fight. Her voice still echoed sometimes when he closed his eyes. And the child’s scream… it had been short. A breath cut in half.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  He had done what was ordered.

  He had done more than was ordered. It was on his own accord, taking on the role to remove what would’ve been a threat. But a threat to what? The question could not find a way out of this.

  “He has no one now,” Xollor said, low.

  The Groggin tilted its head, metal sinews groaning. “Not for long.”

  His head turned slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “The Marshal has been summoned,” the Groggin said, causing him to turn completely. “She will come soon, and the second Overturn will begin.”

  “Luminar? She’s alive? Where is she—” right as the pivot of his foot to face the figure, he froze at the sound of the Overturn. The Overturn. He never thought he’d hear that and the word “begin” in the same sentence. And there was a clear reason for it. That word carried more history in centuries of wars, a word that made the 10-year-old decree almost forgettable.

  “What did you say?” Xollor asked, almost shaken. “Begin the what?”

  The silence returned, darker now. The trees below the ridge swayed with a sound like a slow exhale. Xollor’s expression did not change, but something behind his eyes did.

  “Ten years,” he whispered. “Even to the kings, or to my commander. A second Overturn? What do you mean by that?”

  “See what happened on the first. She will remove what she had begun, and she will take the crown for herself.”

  Xollor looked down again at the faint glow in the valley, where the magic still whispered. His hands remained at his sides, but the tension in his shoulders made his cloak shift in the wind. “Liar—she is not suited for that. She detests such authority.”

  “But she does now,” the Groggin added. “You know what stopped her from taking the crown. You are smart enough to understand why things have changed.”

  “What, because she found someone to worship?” Xollor asked. “What does that have to do with her forcing queenship?”

  The Groggin gave a sound that wasn’t quite laughter. “You will know soon enough.”

  It disappeared in that same static pulse, that same quick fracture of sound that never quite belonged in this world. The world re-stitched itself. And just one flicker later, the static faded, and the figure was gone. Xollor was alone again.

  He looked at the stars that remained ever so still. With the winds blowing against the frame of his armor, his mind drifted into thoughts. His hands slowly curled into a fist, his lips quivering, though his brows never furrowing. Back to the wilderness he looked, far at what he originally had come to ponder about. “I saw it with my own eyes. The child. Vynelor.”

  End of Episode 8