The King Trials 2: Beyond.
~True Wisdom~

The Kumentah echoed Zoar’s sentiment.

The myth of the Sagetai is to remain as it is, another truth buried beneath the weight of time. One unknown, an ode of the forgotten. I am to remain as I am. A candidate. The Kumentah swore his allegiance to me when I shall need it the most, whether or not I wear a crown, so it does not mean I am destined to reign.

Technically, he did not swear his armies, his support to me but to the Sagetai.

For what I can comprehend. The Sagetai is not meant to rule, but to protect.

A sentiment I cannot grasp. I cannot even protect myself, still plagued by whatever malignancy sits suppressed in me. All I have done is left destruction in my wake. I try to console myself with a flaccid reassurement with that menace within is the cause of my irredeemable actions. But I am responsible for my actions and the truth, one I cannot bear to face is that I wanted to do those things. I wanted to be the one to end Rimnick’s life; I wanted to disembowel the assailants in Umtera. I wanted Dario to beg for mercy.

I wanted them to suffer.

I founded my entire belief system on the concept of grace. That people are more than their mistakes, that some behave in a callous manner because that is all that they know; all that was done to them. The worst thing that I can do to those that have done me wrong is react in a way that they would expect. But you cannot cure cruelty with more cruelness. That way the cycle never ends because everyone refuses to learn, no-one wants to do what should be done.

Instead of an act of vengeance, to respond with forgiveness.

Instead of responding with cruelty, to show mercy.

Instead of countering with loathing, to reply with kindness.

All that I have done has gone against everything that I have stood for; against everything that I thought I was. Not that I killed this one, or that I let that one die. But because I wanted it, a morsel of me enjoyed it. And that’s the part I do not wish to face. The malignancy deep within, never controlled me, the apparition of Rimnick never goaded me—he always appeared to me after the misdeed was done—after I made a choice and I let the malevolence dictate on a whim.

It never corrupted me. It exposed me.

Yet somehow this makes me worthy to be chosen?

I do not even know what that means, but I fear the consequence of either acceptance or denial.

I used to think that my father raised me the way he did because he initially wanted a son to pass down both his material and intellectual inheritance to, but it became clear, even when I was young, that it was more than that. He insisted on the axiom that history repeats itself, that something on the scale of Pavelia would recur. He was fixated on that belief, and I thought he merely wanted to prepare Seliah and I. But it was more than that.

My father knew a lot more than what he told me. It must be so.

Even if he did, I read the lore of many legends in my library of uncountable books; I have heard stories of fallen heroes and prophecies of ones to come. But not once did I ever hear of the Sagetai. The only ones that do are the Are and the Kumentah, along with his Priestess. And they are all immortals, they were there when the ancient foretelling of this coming was told.

The more answers I retain, the less I really know.

The Kumentah was correct about our next destination. Duce Merian revealed that we are heading to Nivalis. As promised, he is loaning us one of his imperial airships to reach the cerulean harbour, there we shall sail the seas to the frost kingdom. The voyage to Nivalis is one no airship can endure, a storm ever lashes the air, the one only way to make it safely is by boat.

***

Outside both the palace city, separate from the armada of idle warships, are a fleet of identical imperial airships. We board the Sylvar. The palatial architecture of the ship is one I have never seen, instead of the construction been made of wood, its crafted from wrought iron and the lateral, oval-shaped gasbag is plated with a gold coat adorned with motifs that I saw engraved on the interior walls of the bastion. The multi-decked vessel has more than one level both within the hull and in the superstructure above the primary deck. The deck’s scantling is usually the same as the topsides. Though it is ornamented with luxurious furnishings and elements, it relatively consists of the same layout of an average airship.

An afterdeck, an open deck area toward the stern-aft. Bridge deck: the deck area including the helm and navigation station, Forecastle deck: A partial deck above the main deck under which the sailors have their berths, extending from the foremast to the bow.

The aircrew aid with the transporting of our luggage and additional cargo. All of them wear a variation of loose-fitting clothing, draping scarfs belted on the hips of their baggy pants, drawstring visible only at the abdomen, matched with beige, sleeveless garments completely unbuttoned.

I follow one of them with my personal belongings to the upper deck by the forecastle to a corridor and after several turns. He elbows a door open and allows me to enter first, I instantly notice the maroon, velvety fur that carpets the entire room. He then goes to the bolted down, mahogany desk in the corner, beside an oak wardrobe and deposits my baggage there before he leaves.

I saunter forward and I glance at the square shaped pane of glass right before the desk, a modest view of the ocean of sand beyond. But what interests me are the two separate, single beds situated parallel from each other with a bedside table interspaced between them.

The door opens—silent, but I can sense someone slip in from behind me.

I swivel around to see Anthia trudge in, holding her own carrier bag, slung over her shoulder.

She spears me with a look. “Apologies for the intrusion, Hera,” she spews the title like it’s an insult. “But I was to stay with brother, but Captain thought it appropriate for the females to share.”

I rearrange my face to a hospitable expression. “I once shared a cabin with all the Herems, so you are a welcomed surprise.”

She discards me with sheer antipathy and moves to the bed on the right. She drops her things on the floor with a thud and collapses on the bed; her hooded cloak shrouding her frame.

I amble to the desk and delve through my carrier bag. I slide out the scroll.

Apprehensive, I sneak a glance at Anthia’s sleeping form, her back faced towards me.

I pull out the chair and settle down. The desk is angled at a forty-five-degree tilt, directly beneath the shower of sunbeams. I unfurl the scroll and flatten it on the surface, the inscriptions ignite, gleaming into clarity. I take the time to be what I was born into. A Valwa. The first step to acquiring knowledge is attaining a wealth of information, but as my father said. True wisdom recognizes that you know nothing.

I do not hold the answers, but I will find them. I must.

And this oracle may lead me to them, even if I dislike the outcome.

That is not up to me, there are things in this life beyond my control, things I cannot fight.

One that I am fated to accept.

Destiny.

Hours after the airship launched into the heavens, I remain rooted at the desk, even until the light wanes in brilliance. During my study session I am certain of only two things. That the second half of the prophecy is not a continuation, but a completely new prophecy altogether.

Darkness shall cover the face of the realms; the cause of its own destruction.

A world of one, torn asunder. Kings rise only to fall.

The cause of destruction as a consequence for all.

The Dark shall ascend, the corrupt and undead it shall send.

The cause of destruction had sealed the realm’s fate. But only by His grace the providence of sorrow and desolation, He would then recreate.

The seed of hope burgeons, the one that will herald in the new age.

The Light but a vessel, It only burns to guide others, It only lives to die for others.

A life given for the causes of destruction.

And the second half.

Woe to the guilty, for they will reap the destruction they have sown.

The Light arises, the new dawn.

As the Light strengthens, so shall the Dark.

The law of balance, one that cannot be overturned.

The Darkness will pierce the Light; the Light will consume the Darkness.

The second is that the Sagetai is referred to as The Light and the ‘second half’ of the prophecy illustrates it as the new dawn. Which I believe it alludes to another, that the new Sagetai, one after me apparently will face another, great peril. But both are reflecting the others ending.

Both foretell the death of The Light.

Does this mean I am destined to fail, so whoever after me will succeed to slew the threat of the Ulris?

Is the other peril greater than Vilnus himself?

Impossible. There is no other. If the oracle speaks of a new Sagetai, one after me, it can only mean that I will fail or a new abomination will arise, one viler than Vilnus.

But it cannot be because both culminations predict the end of The Light.

Does it mean that the only way to save others is for the Sagetai to sacrifice itself?

I bristle at the sound of the mattress creaking.

Cautiously, I roll up the scroll and place it aside. I rotate on the chair to rest my elbow on the head to peer over at Anthia. She shifts to sit on the edge of the bed, at the foot. With a drawn-out groan, she swipes her hood off her head.

“Are we airborne?”

I nod to confirm. “You were asleep for quite a while.”

She quirks her silvery brows. “Well, this entire journey has been draining. If I knew I would face danger at every turn, have to travel the Night Desert, trek on foot like a mule. I would’ve quadrupled my asking price.”

She leans forward to prop her elbows on her thighs, massaging her forehead, creasing the tattoo, looking inconceivably harried. Weakened.

“Why did you accept the High King’s expedition to locate Velheim for him? I am sure it must have been disconcerting to embark on a quest to discover this fabled city, and not only that, but act as an emissary to coney his mandate, not knowing how these foreign counterparts would react to your advent. The leaders of Velheim are a bit precarious when it comes to their privacy.”

She physically pauses to examine me, her eyes probing me further. “His High King.” Her exotic accent still unidentifiable. “I couldn’t really say no. So I set a price.”

I bop my head thoughtfully. “And how did our High King locate you?”

Her eyes snap back at me like I crossed a line. She naturally assumes a neutral expression.

“Why you curious?” she asks defensively, wary of me suddenly. “What’s it to you?”

Her rising guard is intense its almost tangible.

I shake my head pensively. “I am not. I am just at a point where I would like to understand the things I do not, it is the best way to deal with them,” I rant on, veering off my trail of thought to something more intrinsic. I stare of vacantly into the room, voicing my innermost turmoil. “Instead of denying them or pretending that it is not there. The smartest course of action to defeat one’s foe is to understand them.”

Anthia stands to her feet and my gaze zooms in on her.

She glares back at me with a bewildered look. “What is smart, little Hera is to not try understand things that don’t concern you.” She walks to the door with a listless gait. She opens it and flicks a glance at me. “You’ll live longer that way.”

My daze dissipates. “Another threat?”

“No. A fact.” She closes the door with an echoing slam.

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