anything.”
Cassia looked at him suspiciously.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Anything.”
There was a silence while the Empress studied her husband. Was he serious?
“Alright…” Cassia sat up in the bed and Tarsus did the same. “I want Aric to see his father.”
Aric and Fadan washed away the sewer stench with water buckets, then ran up to the attic on the north wing. They didn’t even bother drying their clothes. Fadan dragged a table to the center of the room and placed a candle, two glasses of pure crystal, a jar of water, and the precious flask on top of it. The candle flame danced, and inside the vial, red waves swirled within the silvery liquid.
Across the attic, Aric dug the book from its hideout. He felt his stomach tighten and his eyes closed as he muttered a plea. Would Ava grant him his wish? It would certainly be a first.
He dropped the massive tome on the improvised table and quickly found the page he was looking for.
“One portion of Runium, five portions of water,” Aric read.
Fadan measured and poured the liquids in each crystal glass. He gave one to his brother and picked the other one for himself.
Aric reached for his belt and removed a small kitchen knife. He looked up, searching the heavens, and closed his eyes in a plea. Then, he made a small cut on the palm of his hand, dropped the knife, and squeezed some blood droplets into his glass.
Please….
He reopened his eyes. The blood drops unraveled inside the translucent liquid and he waited, watching each undulation of his blood threads as they dissolved.
Please….
The red became duller and duller until it turned white. Other than that, nothing happened. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his body sunk and he let a long sigh escape him. Devastated, he lifted his head slightly.
Across the table, Fadan was staring at his own glass with his mouth wide open. He lifted his cup and showed it to Aric.
The liquid inside was as bright blue as an Imperial flag waving in the sun.
Chapter 3
The Traitor
Ava looked at him from above. Serene, crystalline, glowing, the stained glass where she was portrayed stretching across multiple stories up to the temple ceiling. Aric wondered if the star floating above her head was not a more accurate representation of her. After all, had she ever even stepped on Arkhemia?
He heard steps from behind.
“We don’t usually get visitors this early.” The Priest wore a white tunic with Ava’s Dawn Star embroidered on his chest. By the complicated, filigree-like cutouts of the cloth covering his head, Aric assumed he should be an important member of the Temple. “Why don’t you return in an hour, when the morning celebration begins?”
“Does she ever reply back?” Aric asked.
The Priest pondered the question for a while.
“It depends on the answer you are looking for. Mother Ava does not grant wishes.”
“Why not?”
“The city is full of fountains,” the Priest said. “The naïve throw gold coins into them, the wise quench their thirst in them.” He stepped besides Aric, searching for his face. “You’re the Empress’s son, Aric!”
“What’s the point of praying to a Goddess if she can’t hear us? Or just won’t?”
The Priest looked at his glass-made Goddess.
“Ava did not create us, yet she cared for us as if she was our mother. She risked her own life to protect us.” The old man turned to Aric. “We pray to her because we are thankful. Because if it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Risked her own life!? She just gave us weapons,” Aric protested.
“Dragons have their own Gods, you know. By taking our side, Ava crossed them. She lost her own lover because of it.”
“Now there is a God worth praying to,” Aric said. “He was a warrior. He came down to fight on our side. Ava just watched…”
“I thought you saw no point in praying to a God that doesn’t answer your prayers. How is a dead God going to help you?”
Aric
Cassia looked at him suspiciously.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Anything.”
There was a silence while the Empress studied her husband. Was he serious?
“Alright…” Cassia sat up in the bed and Tarsus did the same. “I want Aric to see his father.”
Aric and Fadan washed away the sewer stench with water buckets, then ran up to the attic on the north wing. They didn’t even bother drying their clothes. Fadan dragged a table to the center of the room and placed a candle, two glasses of pure crystal, a jar of water, and the precious flask on top of it. The candle flame danced, and inside the vial, red waves swirled within the silvery liquid.
Across the attic, Aric dug the book from its hideout. He felt his stomach tighten and his eyes closed as he muttered a plea. Would Ava grant him his wish? It would certainly be a first.
He dropped the massive tome on the improvised table and quickly found the page he was looking for.
“One portion of Runium, five portions of water,” Aric read.
Fadan measured and poured the liquids in each crystal glass. He gave one to his brother and picked the other one for himself.
Aric reached for his belt and removed a small kitchen knife. He looked up, searching the heavens, and closed his eyes in a plea. Then, he made a small cut on the palm of his hand, dropped the knife, and squeezed some blood droplets into his glass.
Please….
He reopened his eyes. The blood drops unraveled inside the translucent liquid and he waited, watching each undulation of his blood threads as they dissolved.
Please….
The red became duller and duller until it turned white. Other than that, nothing happened. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his body sunk and he let a long sigh escape him. Devastated, he lifted his head slightly.
Across the table, Fadan was staring at his own glass with his mouth wide open. He lifted his cup and showed it to Aric.
The liquid inside was as bright blue as an Imperial flag waving in the sun.
Chapter 3
The Traitor
Ava looked at him from above. Serene, crystalline, glowing, the stained glass where she was portrayed stretching across multiple stories up to the temple ceiling. Aric wondered if the star floating above her head was not a more accurate representation of her. After all, had she ever even stepped on Arkhemia?
He heard steps from behind.
“We don’t usually get visitors this early.” The Priest wore a white tunic with Ava’s Dawn Star embroidered on his chest. By the complicated, filigree-like cutouts of the cloth covering his head, Aric assumed he should be an important member of the Temple. “Why don’t you return in an hour, when the morning celebration begins?”
“Does she ever reply back?” Aric asked.
The Priest pondered the question for a while.
“It depends on the answer you are looking for. Mother Ava does not grant wishes.”
“Why not?”
“The city is full of fountains,” the Priest said. “The naïve throw gold coins into them, the wise quench their thirst in them.” He stepped besides Aric, searching for his face. “You’re the Empress’s son, Aric!”
“What’s the point of praying to a Goddess if she can’t hear us? Or just won’t?”
The Priest looked at his glass-made Goddess.
“Ava did not create us, yet she cared for us as if she was our mother. She risked her own life to protect us.” The old man turned to Aric. “We pray to her because we are thankful. Because if it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Risked her own life!? She just gave us weapons,” Aric protested.
“Dragons have their own Gods, you know. By taking our side, Ava crossed them. She lost her own lover because of it.”
“Now there is a God worth praying to,” Aric said. “He was a warrior. He came down to fight on our side. Ava just watched…”
“I thought you saw no point in praying to a God that doesn’t answer your prayers. How is a dead God going to help you?”
Aric
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