“It’s not coming off!”
“Pull harder!”
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I awoke with a start as someone was tugging painfully at my arm. Beside me, a man in white linen cloak and golden veil was pulling on the armor plate that covered my right arm, almost yanking me off the bed where I lay. Beside him was another veiled man, arms crossed, barking orders.
“Get off of me!” I shouted, pulling away and backing as far away as I could manage. I jumped back behind the bed, using it as barrier between me and the two guards. The linen flowing robes and golden veils told me that they were more than likely sent by Herculea - fetching me for my inevitable judgment.
“I don’t think it’ll come off - it’s pretty heavily magicked. I haven’t seen anything like it before,” said the first guard, wringing his hands.
“Aye, you’re probably right. She’ll have to come as is,” answered the other man, before turning his attention to me, “Have a nice rest, little lady? Come now - Herculea sent for you herself. Time to go.”
I shook my head, unmoving from my place.
“I… I refuse. I-” I stammered.
One of the guards rounded the bed, grabbing my arm firmly and pulled me towards the door with a yank. I stumbled to the side, falling hard to my knees, and a loud crackling noise ricocheted throughout the room as the armor hit the stone floor.
“Come now, we don’t have all day - I don’t want to have to use magic with ya,” he grumbled, pulling me from the ground.
“Careful, Fremont, I think this one’s a Blood Mage,” called the other guard from across the room.
The guard who had my arm suddenly let go, raising his hands and backing away.
“Aye, perhaps we will have to use magic then,” he said.
“I’ll take her,” came a voice from the doorway.
I looked up to see Lumo there, adorned in golden half-armor over white cotton ropes. There was a modest, wood-woven crown upon his head, just above his golden mask. I couldn’t help but hold my breath - I almost didn’t recognize him. I had grown accustomed to his familiar, humble black cloak. But there in the doorway he stood, in garb fitting a prince.
“Prince Lumo,” both guards said in surprise, before greeting him with a deep bow.
“You are both excused. I will escort her to Herculea myself,” said Lumo, voice low and serious.
Both guards bowed again before quickly leaving the room. I then watched as Lumo swiftly closed the door behind him, leaning back with a heavy sigh.
“Wow - Look at you-” I stammered.
“Shush, I cannot bear teasing right now. Please,” he shook his head, staring at the ceiling.
“I’m not teasing - you just look so different,” I said, stepping around the bed to face him.
“It’s a bit much, no?” Lumo responded, fidgeting with his shirt from under the light golden engraved chest plate. His light smile faded though as he stepped away from the door, looking at me. “I’m sure you are probably nervous right now… as am I.”
I nodded, looking down.
Lumo stepped forward once more, placing his hands on my shoulders.
“Mira, look at me,” he whispered.
I inhaled, turning to face him, trying to hide the trembling fear boiling at my core. No, I was not ready to face one of the Four Guides, a meeting that would surely end with my untimely demise.
“We don’t have much time, as they will be expecting us soon,” Lumo said, clearing his throat, “But I want to let you know, I will not be able to defend you in there. Do to the… nature of my creation. I am powerless against her.”
I nodded. I half expected as much.
“But, with that in mind, I do believe you can make it out of this alive. Herculea is incredibly smart, cunning, and indeed powerful. But she values honesty above all else. If you are to get through this, you must tell the truth… no matter how painful.”
There was a sudden knock at the door, causing us both to jump.
“Prince Lumo?” a voice called from behind the door, “Is everything alright in there?”
“Yes,” called Lumo over his shoulder, “One moment.”
I watched as Lumo shook his head again, eyes again to the ceiling.
“I wish we had more time, Mira,” he smiled. “The tower is quite impressive. I would have loved to show it to you were things different… Come now, let’s get this over with.”
With a final sigh, Lumo leaned forward, kissing my forehead gently before taking my arm in his.
“Also, please excuse my coldness in advance… We all have a part to play,” he said, tilting his head to the side.
“Was that a wink?” I asked.
But Lumo only gave a sad smile as he opened the chamber door.
+++
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Herculea’s wing of the Guide Tower was almost exhaustingly beautiful. I had read about the Tower in length, as its grand beauty was a favorite topic of author’s throughout the realm. Every time a wayward traveler or courier was able to travel to the floating grand spire, hidden by ancient and powerful magic to the average eye, a printing of their experience was soon to follow, lining the windows of the busy city streets.
The marble hall was lined with lush emerald ivy and tiny white flowers. Huge white pillars spiraled into a high arched ceiling, bright with curved glass, leaving view of billowing white clouds just above. White robed guards, wearing their golden veils and carved golden spears, walked in pairs through the open space. Their low voices still echoing lightly off the towering walls.
I stayed close to Lumo’s side as we gathered looks from each guard that we passed, though they all greeted him with the same low bow of respect. We passed a veiled crane on our path, and even the bird lowered his head and stepped aside once it saw Lumo approaching. I wondered if it was the same bird whose feather Lumo stole during the ceremony; a memory that felt like a lifetime ago.
I wondered what Limenta might think if she had seen me now, walking in the great Guide Tower, arm-in-arm with a Prince, nonetheless. Sure, he may be escorting me to a certain death, but I couldn’t help but smile at her imaginary fury.
We turned a sharp corner, stopping in front of an elaborately carved marble and gold pair of doors. Guarding the grand entrance was a large blackbear, spanning almost the entire entryway, golden ceremonial veil upon his head.
Lumo nodded at the great beast, and it turned with slow force, pushing the massive doors open with its wide paws. While the door creaked its slow open, Lumo gently unwound my fingers from his arm, which seemed to have gained quite a grip during the short walk. He then stepped aside, giving me a slight nod, head crooked.
Wink.
I took a final deep breath and looked inside, stomach twisting about itself.
Herculea.
We were here.
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I was almost blinded as white marble glowed bright white in the rounded room, stair and stage radiated from the two suns from outside, as the curved, high windows stretched even over the ceiling top revealing an unobstructed view of the radiant day sky. Each grand curve of marble stairs and window alike, equally accentuating the modest yet still intimidating stone throne in which Herculea herself sat. She was flanked by her linen-robed guards, wearing delicate golden masks, weaving around their heads like wild vines as they held their magicked spears.
Herculea herself, even at this distance across the grand marbled floored hall, sat stoic and intimidating, wearing her white silken robe, and golden veil upon deep burgundy hair, almost glowing lavender in the brightly lit room. I felt my skin crawl, sickened and humbled in her grandeur, but I did everything in my power to not show my own fear and hesitation. I followed close behind Lumo, keeping my head as tall as I could, trying to remind myself that although she was one of the four Guides, a pillar of the realm, we were both indeed Blood Mage.
As we made our way to the foot of the grand stairs, looking up to the ancient throne, Lumo paused and cleared his throat.
“Herculea, I bring before you Mira of Midrealm, daughter of distinguished Knight Sylas Ramsay on the Selphina guard and chosen Herculea Disciple Freya Ramsay as requested by your humble summons,” said Lumo, voice loud and echoing across the expansive room.
Lumo then made a deep bow of respect, and I followed his lead.
“Thank you, Lumo,” came Herculea’s soft, lilting voice from high upon her throne. “You may resume your line.”
I watched, tense, as Lumo began to climb the high stairs before taking his set place beside the throne, facing me with masked head looking at the floor.
“Hello, Mira,” began Herculea, “Please step forward, I would like to have a better look at you.”
I nodded, hands stiff at my side, before I made the slow climb up the stairs, onyx-armor of Halmore making sharp, unsettling noises as it met with the marble at every step. I made it to the top, hiding my hardened breaths in the thin air, before finally turning my face upwards to face her.
Her skin, although dewy and glowing in the radiant room, had an odd unsettling gray to it, amplified by the loose burgundy curls neatly pinned in place by her golden veil.
“It’s an honor to finally meet you, young Mira,” she smiled sweetly, filling me with further unease, “You see, I have been looking for you for quite some time now - even sent my best disciples to find you.”
I looked down, unsure how to respond. Lumo’s echos of remaining honest repeating in my head.
“Why put me through all this trouble, young Mira? We all know what becomes of Blood Mages,” she sighed, standing up from her stone throne and stepping towards me.
“But, I do so hope you’ve had fun on your little adventure,” she smiled, placing a finger below my chin, pulling my stare away from the floor to her golden veil. “I’m sure Lumo made for a good host. Such a pretty thing, you are.”
I stood strong, back straight and stared back at her.
“Your eyes have yet to have the clouded stare of the Blood Mage. There’s a bit of a glow, yes, it catches the light just so… That must be from my dragon rider,” she smiled, holding my head between her palms now, both hot like embers against my skin, filled with magic, but I refused to let my discomfort show.
“Ah, I miss when my eyes were like yours,” she sighed, then pulled away.
Herculea then turned away from me, then began to unfasten the golden band of her veil behind her head, letting it fall to the marble throne in a golden pile.
“Alas, this is now what I get to see when I look upon a mirror by chance,” she said in a low voice, before turning towards me.
Her face was young, beautiful, like marble mask of an ancient sculpture - but her eyes gave me pause. Lined in deep gray and veined in purple and black, her eyes were glowing, pupiless pearls, bright but dead, clouded in her path of absorbing countless magicked souls.
The beautiful Herculea.
“Perhaps that was why Lumo became so enamored with you - a sweet young Blood Mage that he would be able to control, instead of the opposite,” she gave a frown, then sat back down on the throne, “I suppose he might have told you all of the stories of my cruelness. The bitter hag Herculea, yes? Forcing his hand in marriage.”
I looked at Lumo, who had not moved, head still pointed at the floor in front of his feet.
I watched her looking at him, sadly smiling as she curled her hair around her finger.
“He’s quite charming, right Mira?” she smiled, turning back to me. “I mean, that’s how I made him - with Solia’s help of course. He was to be a perfect match for me, to rule by my side, hand in hand. Yet he chose to run away, and with a Blood Mage, no less.
“I have nothing against you, young one - but a Blood Mage to roam free in the Realm could cause the destruction of everything the Four Guides have done to make peace.
“Do you understand why, Mira? Why it can only be the Four Guides? The chaos of the first age showed us… and I will, as steward of this great Realm of Lucerna, do everything in my power to never go back…. It is for the sake of the Realm that there are only the Four… Do you understand? Do you understand why you cannot be left alive?”
I opened my mouth, but no words arrived.
What was I to say?
No, my life is more important than the Realm?
Herculea then sighed again, staking her head sadly before turning once again to Lumo.
“Poor Lumo… I’m afraid that your time is now up with your little toy. Do you have any parting words?” she said, voice thick with mocking lament.
But Lumo still did not move, head still down.
It took everything to not show my disappointment, but as I stared at him, I noticed something around his neck. Just below his thin cloth collar was the slim outline of the Ward I had fashioned him as a gift. The Lumo I knew was under there, and I knew deep down if he could say something, he would. But here, at Herculea’s throne, he was powerless.
“Ah, shame. What about you, young Mira?” she said, turning to me.
I cleared my throat, stepping forward.
“Why… Why did Solia choose me? Why did she choose me as disciple if I was only meant to die?” I said, carefully considering my words.
“Ah,” she smiled, “A curious question indeed. Perhaps as a test for poor Lumo here-”
“A test?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t think that’s quite right.”
“Oh?” said Herculea, smile wide, “Then what do you think, young Mira?”
“Not a test, but a choice.”
Herculea’s smile dropped as her hands stopped curling around her silken locks.
“Has Lumo no say as to where his path leads? Of course, he was created with use of your magic - but what about what he wants?” I said, surprised at how loud my voice sounded in the silent room.
Herculea’s smile returned, glowing eyes burrowing into me.
“How brave you are, young Mira, when faced with death. What rosy words he must have used to bend you to his wayward will. All of his sweet nothings, whispering of things that could never be, I’m sure - lulling you into a dream of a future that could never be.”
“No.”
“No? What do you mean, ‘no?’” she smiled.
“Lumo did no such thing. He has only ever told me of what was… not of what could be.”
“Ah,” she laughed, “Even more pathetic then. You are here by your own fantasies, not of any decadent futures weaved by Lumo himself. Do you really think there is room for you in Lumo’s tale? You are but a footnote, an err in judgment by my betrothed - a wicked temptation and opportunity to rebel against his destiny. A test by Solia to show that all his paths lead him here, beside me in our rule.”
A steady ringing began in my ears as I watched Herculea slowly rise from her throne once again, taking a flowing step towards me. She then pulled a golden knife from a hidden holster at her thigh, weighing it in her open palm.
“It is a pity, Mira, but there is no ending where you leave this room alive,” she sighed, looking at the knife. “You enter here, bold enough to even sport that ring of rebellion upon your slender little finger.”
I looked down. Yes, there it was. The ring that Vasati had gifted me, still unmoved from my finger when I had placed it so long ago. A symbol of friendship to the fae - but to a Guardian like Herculea, it meant nothing but treason against their rule.
I looked at Lumo, terrified. But no - he had remained still in the same stoic pose, unchanged. I was alone.
“It is upon my Judgment as Herculea, Pillar and Guide of the Realm of Lucerna, that I thee sentence you to death,” her voice boomed, echoing against the tall window panes around us.
No, it could not end here. My thoughts raced through every single thing I have ever ready for any possible way I could escape the knife at my heart, ready to plunge. As the knife contacted the onyx plate, electric sparks of protest shot throughout the room.
Time.
It was giving me time.
“I-I demand trial by Solia herself!” I stammered suddenly, surprised by my own words.
If I were to fall under judgment, it should be by my own Guide - the divine Queen herself. She had chosen me, not Herculea. I earned that right as her disciple.
It was then that the light of the room seemed to glow even brighter, high suns’ beams blazing bright white in the room, suddenly shining hot and blinding. I caught only a glance of Herculea’s bitter glare before everything became white.
Solia.
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