At first there was darkness. A cold and numb feeling that settled in his stomach and the marrow in his bones.
Something was different. Very different.
He knew he didn't like this different—it tasted bad, like blood and acrid smoke.
But when he opened his eyes, the stars greeted him. A thousand and one brilliant pinpricks of light against a pure black, brighter than the jewels in any crown. When he was little, his father had told him the stars were the candles of the gods.
Of course none of them believed it, but it made for an interesting story.
The stars had never been this bright. He could see each constellation in the Polarian night sky. There was the huntress Alvilde with her axe raised in battle and just north was the kvättorp with large black wings spread in flight.
He took a breath, slowly moving his fingers. They were numb, snow covering his skin. A prickle of pain lit up his body and he blinked slowly, his mind retreating into the darkness from which he had departed.
"No." Came a woman's voice and then there was a face above him, pressing her fingers against his face.
Who was she? He found his voice slowly, "Araste—"
She shushed him, her dark eyes staring into his. She pressed a finger to his throat, nodding in thought.
"Aras su presæ? Østberg?" She spoke in harsh Polarian—all jutting angles and harsh syllables.
Are you the prince?
He nodded weakly. "Jai."
She looked around, the moon illuminating her face. She whispered something to herself, her hands pressing against his chest.
He let out a cry and she let up the pressure.
"Aras je døed?!"
Am I dead?
She paused a moment, brushing her fingers over his face slowly. "Jai."
Yes.
He let out another cry. He couldn't die. No. No. He couldn't die now! Asluag was going to save him from the Elder Laws!
She carefully lifted his head a little and he found his voice again. "Aras su døet?"
Are you death?
She stopped, shaking her head. "No."
He sat up with her help, staring at the dried blood coating his body. He pressed his numb right hand against his chest, fingers probing the knife wound over his heart. His other hand gently felt the wound on his side where blood had frozen his tunic to his skin. "Drass. Je aras døed," he whispered.
I am dead.
The woman threw her cloak over his shoulders, helping him to his feet. She paused one last time and he craned his head up to look at the stars.
"Su aste savallin nen."
You are safe now.
A hand touched his face and Ketil startled awake in the darkness. "Wake up."
"Raziel?" Ketil let out a groan. "What are you—"
"You're talking in your sleep." Raziel sat down beside him, patting his leg. "Not that anyone can understand you, but you're twitching and talking."
"Maybe if you weren't such a light sleeper." Ketil grinned a little in the darkness, listening to the others sleep. His heart pounded in his chest so he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Where is Anubis?"
"She left with Lio some time after midnight—I heard them go out."
Ketil paused, letting out a deep sigh. "I don't trust him."
"I don't either."
"What can we do without him though? He is the most powerful riesun I've ever seen. It's only a miracle that Anubis can keep him from tearing the Empires apart now." Ketil stood up, stretching out his legs and almost tripping on the person beside him. Who was it? Vasco or Jameson? Whoever it was didn't stir.
"Don't go after her," Raziel whispered and Ketil ran a hand over his hair with a lazy yawn.
"You mistake me for a madman? Why on earth would I ever do something that stupid. Besides, who know where they are or what they're doing?" He grinned to himself. "No, I am going to see the sights this city has to offer. I am going to clear my head a little bit. This room is far too stuffy."
"I'll come with you, it's too dangerous for you to go alone." Raziel began to stand, but Ketil rested a hand against his shoulder. "Stay here, I'll only be gone a minute. I need to think alone."
Raziel nodded once, or at least his silhouette did. "Be careful, the Inquisition wants us dead."
"Lucky for them I'm already dead. It'll save them the hassle."
Raziel's teeth gleamed with a smile.
"Shut up you two," Dante muttered, shifting into a comfortable position before her chest rose and fell with the pattern of deep sleep.
Ketil grabbed his belt from a peg on the wall and strapped it on, touching the holster that held his knife. He then felt along the peg for a cloak and drew it around his shoulder—he didn't know if it was even his cloak, but it would do.
He felt into the pocket of his trousers, coming up with a small, messy wooden carving of the kvättorp. His thumbs traced along the ridges, coming up along the beak and talons. He always whittled things when he was nervous or bored and now he was a ball of anxiety. He too the kvättorp from his pocket and held it closer to his chest
The kvättorp Was a gigantic rook, legend said that if a captured bird died at the hands of a human, the Østberg line would fall to ruins. And so the kvättorp kept in the manor were treated as royalty. But they were venerated and sacred in so many ways that no one would ever dare to kill one. That was the Polarian way and Ketil had a fondness for them all. They were like him in a way, caged and seen as omens of doom for the Østberg line. Maybe it was true in his case. Maybe he would bring death and damnation to his family and empire.
Ketil found his way out of the tavern, a bit of cold air slammed into his chest and he retreated into the cloak, shivering. It was nicer out here than in the stuffy room full of people that needed and wanted him. He didn't want this. He had barely even wanted to be an emperor whenever he was a child. It was thrust on his plate and for some reason he developed this ability—not even an ability he wanted. An ability to turn statues to life, but only at the cost of his energy and sanity. And from then on, he was a black swan who would be slaughtered to fit the custom.
Perhaps that was all he was to the customs and Elders. He was a tradition to uphold because of poisoned blood.
It turned his stomach a little at the thought. The Elders were Batræ like him yet they showed no mercy. And the royal guards that had cut him down before were the same ones he used to ride with. All that mattered was blood. An Østberg with bad blood was not fit to live, because if they escaped and had a child that child would also be contaminated and could bring decimation to the line.
He felt the kvättorp in his pocket and breathed a sigh, bringing it to life. He felt the wings stretch and then the beak open once before he let his control lax and the statue turned still. Useless ability....
He wandered down the streets, staring at the architecture of the city of Dastberg. It wasn't anything like the palace, but it was something else...something functional that palaces and manors never had. It showed years of grit and hard work, of wars—both public and private, and showed the marks of a violent and bloody history.
A couple beggars slummed in the alleyways, shivering and half dead. One man was robbing another, but the body wasn't moving and Ketil guessed he was robbing a dead man. Ketil released the kvättorp and grabbed his knife instead.
He meandered down a side street, stopping as the light became brighter. There were more people on this street. He pressed his back against the stone alley and watched as a few women with men at their sides disappeared into an inn of sorts. The light was warm and it smelled of incense and woodsmoke.
Ketil craned his neck for a look inside before someone grabbed him from behind. "Kind sir, would you—"
"No." Ketil said quickly, turning to face the woman.
"There is no need to worry," she ran a hand over his face and Ketil tried to back up but the wall pressed into his back. "A beauty like you would make—"
"No, I need to go."
She smiled a little, "you are an exotic yourself, yes? A Polarian. Are you looking for work?"
"Let me go."
She grabbed his arm, reaching for his pockets. "Just a few kips would—"
Ketil pressed a knife into her chest. "Take your hand off me and step out of my way. I have killed men before and I don't want to add you to the list for ignorance."
She did, head proudly raised. "Fine then, go on. Don't come back in our alleyway."
Ketil straightened up, holding his head high. "I won't." He made his way across the alley, a few women and men laughing at him as he ran. He tried to imagine Vasco in their ranks and couldn't. Vasco was better than this, Vasco had risked everything to save him. Vasco was good.
He stepped around the body of a dead horse that decayed in the alley. A couple of dogs swarmed around it, growling at him as he passed by. He gritted his teeth before turning towards the harbor and the Jalta.
"This is the biggest river in the known world," he muttered to himself while staring at the lights of ships and workers that dotted the harbor.
Ships lounged in the water, gentle waves lapping against their bows. "It's a beautiful city," he said under his breath. "I wish I could burn it to ashes."
Ketil ducked behind shipping crates as a few Inquisitors wandered through the shipyard, lanterns swinging as they walked. They were loud and boisterous, laughing as if there wasn't a war on.
He watched them pass. "Too bad I can't burn you all to the ground."
Ketil found his way onto a dock where a large white and red ship was docked, the title labeled it as the Grey Serpent. Ketil sat down on the dock, kicking his legs over the side like a child. He burrowed deeper inside his cloak, feeling the figurehead of the ship—fittingly a large serpent with outstretched fangs—call to him, but he didn't try to manipulate it.
He looked between his legs at his reflection in the dark waters below, tilting his head to watch the man below him do the same.
"I don't know if I can do this," he whispered.
His reflection said that he had to do this. He had no choice. How many lives depended on his actions? He had the opportunity to make history and destroy a tyrant's reign. All it would cost was blood.
He sighed, looking up at the sky. It was cloudy and overcast, he could barely see the moon. He stood, looking back toward land as red began to light up the center.
Fire?
"The Order." He began to run.
Raziel met him halfway there, grabbing onto his arms. "Get to the ship, they've found us."
"What?!"
"The Inquisition, they're coming. I managed to block some of them with fire."
Dante grabbed onto his other hand, "we have to go now!"
Ketil looked at the three of them. Raziel, Dante, and the prisoner. "Where's Vasco?"
"He's back at the tavern, he's trying to give us time! Let's go Ketil!"
Ketil jerked free of them, "we can't leave him! They'll kill him!"
Raziel reached to grab him, but he jerked away. "Ketil!"
"I'll meet you at the ship," not that he knew which one it was. He ran faster, a few people were already fleeing or running with buckets toward the fire. He ran, stopping at the tavern where fire raged across the roof, already catching the buildings around it. Children were releasing horses in the stable where the fire had originated.
Ketil stood in the middle of the square. "Vasco?!"
"Ketil!" Came a cry from behind a pillar. "Over here."
Vasco leaned forward, his palms splayed against the ground. Ketil stood beside him and the man gritted his teeth, struggling to get to his feet.
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Ketil extended his hand to him and helped him to his feet.
Vasco leaned into him, walking as a drunken man. "I tried to hold them back as long as possible, I got most of them." He extended his hand, thin purple mist curling around his body. "We don't have much time."
"Come on, I'll help."
Vasco struggled to stay conscious let alone walk so Ketil dragged him through the streets, stopping in an alley without lights.
"Drass, Vasco. Help me."
Vasco let out a small noise, his eyes looking up. He said something that Ketil could not understand before digging in his heel.
"Go."
"No," Ketil dragged him forward a little more. "Come on, they're going to be here soon."
Vasco let out another sound and Ketil finally heard the noise of Inquisitors, running in their direction. "We have to go! Vasco, help me!"
Vasco did help a little, adrenalin kicking in to get him on his feet.
"There they are!"
Ketil cursed, looking back to see the three Inquisitors. One fell to their knees, rifle raised to fire. Ketil slammed into the alley wall to avoid them, dropping Vasco before grabbing his knife instead. He grabbed the blade, throwing it as he had been taught by Aslaug and then Anubis.
The blade sank in deep into a fleshy gut, sending one to their knees. It wasn't going to be enough and now he had no knife.
There were more shouts, the Inquisitors in the alley responding to more just outside. They had to run, now.
"Leave," Vasco said weakly.
"No!"
Another gunshot hit directly over his head before a shadow stepped in front of them.
"Lio?" Ketil whispered and the shadow responded with a small head tilt and a point.
Lio was shadow walking. Now the Inquisitors would know fear. He was ruthless and untouchable and now he had a knife.
"Ketil," said a woman and he turned to see Anubis in the doorway of a house. "Is he alive?"
"For now, we have to go."
Anubis threw Vasco's arm over her shoulders, making sure her hood was up. "Let's go."
The work was easier now with Anubis, but they still essentially dragged Vasco. "What about Lio?"
"He's already on the ship, he just shadow walked to find you. Raziel told me everything." Her eyes flashed to him, "are either of you injured?"
"Only mentally," Ketil muttered with a groan.
"Don't test my patience, Prince." Anubis stopped as they approached the harbor. "There! Come on."
They meandered through the harbor before appearing before a small ship—the Flying Fox.
"Raziel!" Ketil called out and he appeared on the gangplank. "Is he dead?!"
"No, just exhausted. He overdid it." Raziel took Anubis' place as the three of them hurried onto the ship.
"He saved our lives. We couldn't have escaped on our own." Raziel carefully helped to sit him down against the deck, Ketil nudging him unceremoniously with the toe of his boot. Vasco made a small noise.
Anubis lowered her hood, facing the Order and Lio who was sitting in the middle of the
Lio was in the middle of the deck, head bowed and knife in hand. Dante stood beside him, her eyes widened in fear. The man was barely breathing, his eyes staring at the ground, unblinking. He cast no shadow.
Anubis knelt beside, him, whispering into his ear before he finally looked up, gasping for breath. His shadow was back underneath him now, but exhaustion caused him to collapse onto the deck. Anubis just managed to stop his head from slapping the wood before laying him down gently.
"You saved our lives. Thank you." Ketil said, mainly because it was the polite thing to do.
"Yeah, I am aware," he said rolling onto his back to catch his breath. His eyes were hazy, but clearing quickly and his chest rose and fell with harsh breaths.
Anubis stood, "is anyone hurt?"
Jameson shook his head, "I believe we all managed to get out in time. No one was seriously injured."
Anubis stared at him, "you're bleeding."
He looked down at his arm, "it's just a nick. They just barely managed to graze me." He paused, running a hand over the stubble dotting his face. "I'm alive."
She nodded, "Raziel?"
"I'll heal it later. But everyone is fine?"
Silence greeted him and he nodded. "What do we do now?"
"The crew is taking us into the outer reaches of Polaria. This is a merchant ship so they will be allowed to pass." Anubis looked down at Vasco and Lio. "From there we have a specific route given to us by Mikhail."
"And then we kill the Empress?" Dante whispered.
"And then I kill Aslaug," Ketil said quickly.
"He can't do it," Lio laughed. "He can't kill her, might as well send me in to do the dirty work."
"Shut up," Anubis said. "I don't want to hear it. We do what is necessary in order to secure our futures."
"And I'll drink to that," Jameson said.
They all shared a tired and weary look.
They all knew one thing for certain—it was too late to turn back now.
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