Welcome to Rumen (this isn't part of the story, just an intro). This world is centered around a nation that uses a light based magic system to decide what is good and what is evil. I would say more, but that is what reading is for. I have been creating this world for a while, and I still have a lot of questions for myself, but I want to get the start of this out there to see if people like this, or if I need to retool some stuff. Please remember that this is an opening chapter, as well as a rough draft. Most importantly enjoy it with all your soul.
The Shading: Time, Death, and Truth
Chapter 1
Queen Fiore sprinted barefoot down the Palace’s main corridor, her white silk gown billowing behind her, footsteps slapping against the polished white granite with a definitive tone of desperation. Even in the darkness her dressed shimmered like the edge of a storm cloud, giving her a frightening, powerful silhouette. She did her best to not remember what the palace looked like earlier that afternoon when the servants, guards, and nobles crowded the area, when the sun reflected off the celestial white floors and walls. All of which now contrasted against the demonic shadows that now dominated the corridor. So much can change in the span of an hour, let alone from sunset to midnight. Her thoughts squirmed as she realized that nothing had really changed, the common people were just as angry now as they had been earlier in the day, somehow now that anger had simply boiled over into a coup.
“I couldn’t stop this,” she said to herself. Another lie. Her husband is still alive, she could have changed that. How could she do that to the man she loved? Her heart throbbed with longing for how her family used to be, back when Owen was a leader, not the paranoid monster he was now. Back when she lived with the knowledge that both her sons were honorable.
She turned the corner down one of the hallways lined with stained glass windows, each depicting different heroes of their time. The last one on the right showed a farmer with his foot on a wolf’s neck and a bloody tool of some kind in his hand, the metal head of the tool made out of clear glass, and through it she could see the flame from the torches by the front gate. The distance and thick walls made it difficult to hear what the protestors were chanting, but she had heard their mantra too many times recently.
The time has come
For you to die!
The chant was a mockery of the royal family's motto, Time, Death, and Truth. Her husband, the king, had put a heavy focus on truth during his reign, relying on that ideal to force ludicrous laws onto the people. Laws that started as silly soon evolved into inconvenient, prejudice, and finally deadly. The first execution for the violation of the law “Citizens shall only read holy text by light filtered through clouds” is what put the capitol over the edge tonight.
Fiore peaked out one of the windows as she passed. Guards stood dumbly along the wall, their shoulder all slumped, yet still tense and fidgety. Their weapons leaned against the inside wall of the lookout, Owen forbidding the guards to use deadly force on the intruders made the long spears all but worthless. Why kill a man for reading in the park on a sunny day, yet allow murderous hordes to corner his own family?
Damn you, Owen, damn you.
A loud crack like lightning splitting a tree pushed her forward; the crowd had breached the castle.
Refusing to waste any time, and pleading with White’s Purity that the castle would be difficult enough for the savages to navigate, she sprinted towards her son’s room. Everything hinged on the idea that the right kind of people would find her, the kind of people that understood the value of a diplomacy and compromise. Even though she just went up one floor, It felt like hours before she reached her son's door, her second son, Sead. She didn’t go to Helder, she barely consulted her husband, though she would have come here even if it had been forbidden. She trusted the bloodline, but feared the King’s tradition that had been planted deep into Helder’s mind, and refused to let Sead fall victim.
It was too late for Helder. Sead had a chance.
***
King Owen held his older son’s hand as they walked into the lower chambers of the castle. They were silent as they climbed into the pill shaped, golden vehicle, a roller. Helder hadn’t been told what was happening, just that there was an emergency and that they needed to hurry, so the young man he kept his eyes peeled and followed orders efficiently. Even for a youth, barely ten years, he was acutely aware. He would make an honorable king if given the chance. Rumen and its people had spoken, they denied their divine right to follow and demanded a chance to lead.
Without a Royal King who would protect them?
Owen took a moment to orient himself with the controls. Two levers, each controlling their respective side of the roller. Push both forward to accelerate, and backwards for reverse. Pushing one and pulling the other to turn. Simple, if not touchy. Owen pushed on both and they began to roll forward, though the weighted inner casing kept the passengers upright. The King closed his eyes calling on what Purity remained in the city to force doors open ahead of them, the narrow tunnel opened on the darkside of the city, away from the lesser kingdoms. Church leaders would despise him for such a gross misuse of power, but he had no other option.
There was just enough light in the tunnel for Helder to realize that his father was not looking where he was going.
“Father,” Helder said, “father!” The King said nothing, humming from behind told him they were being pursued.
Looking over, Owen saw the eyes of his son glowing white, and bright flashes of Light exploding from behind, nothing big enough to damage their pursuers, but maybe he could slow them a bit. Helder had shown signs years ago that he was sensitive to shading, proving that he was destined to be King. Not all Kings had been Shaders, but these were desperate times. Sead had the mental capacity, but simply lacked the power to lead. Rumen would fall.
Memories of Sead and Fiores begged to be recognized. Fiore chose to give into the crowds demands, but she had never understood the ideals of divine rights, something Owen was just beginning to grasp. Something he would not be able to pass onto his son.
Tonight King Owen was going to die.
The Truth fed his Light, absorbing every ounce of Purity he could muster Owen yelled and pushed the controls forward. Their roller glowed and pushed forward, powered by some divine energy. They burst out of the border tunnels going full speed, free from the circular walls that bordered the capitol.
“There are two,” Helder said, craning his head to look behind them, “I could keep them at bay with flashes, but they broke through.”
Owen deepened his senses, and felt the two Cruisers coming up behind them. Cruisers were built for transportations between cities, so they were fast and durable, some of the newer models were equipped with some rudimentary fire power. Using the levers he spun the roller around, then pulled back on both to keep them speeding in reverse. Sure enough one of the cruisers launched a black fireball right towards them.
Cruisers weren’t supposed to be equipped with that much firepower. Blackfire was unquenchable, using light Shaders could put the fire on a sort of timer, meaning nothing could stop the burning except for the passing of time. Owen pushed out his light, forming bright spear like beams that shot from outside of the roller. The spears pierced the fireballs, tearing them apart. While this kept them safe from a sudden impact, they still had to worry about the smaller flecks of flames that, though they flew more gently, could still burn through the roller’s metal cage.
Owen accepted that he was going to die today, but Helder had to stay alive.
***
Fiore sat on the edge of Sead’s bed, stroking his hair like any good mother would. Sead was as calm as Helder was intelligent and observant. Owen never considered his younger son to be much more than a follower, loved and cherished but always second rate compared to the Heir. She had to give him a chance to be more.
“Why are you here?” Sead said. Helder had already been awake and dressed, Sead had shut the window and complained of the noise.
“Your father and I decided that you are going to be the next king,” she said. Sead sat up, now fully awake.
“Where is Helder?”
“Him and your father left. They told me they loved you and they were going to miss you,”
Sead didn’t even show a flash of sadness or regret. He just nodded, accepting his fate. That was always one of his most impressive qualities, refusing to show emotion. As a husband and a father this would be a point of weakness, a point of regret, but as a king he would be able to make the difficult decisions. Seeing his steadiness gave Fiore more confidence, she could confide in her son. Like the heat from a bedroom fire she felt the surety that she had chosen right.
“There are people that we need to please,” she said, “you need to tell them you aren’t like your father, that you aren’t like Helder. They are looking for something different.”
“I would have father killed, and Helder too, if we could stay safe.”
The mother and son embraced, holding each other tightly for a long time, the word we hung between them; sinister, dangerous, loving, and forever bonding. Sead refused to let himself cry, but his mother wept openly, even if she agreed with her son she loved her husband. Letting him die was not easy. They betrayed their own flesh and blood, turned them over to the hounds of darkness to be burned with fire from hell. She pushed away the lie that she was keeping the city safe and let the truth, just for a moment, wash over her; she wanted the power. Combined Sead and herself were the lesser half of the royal family, never destined to rule, but always confined to the palace and the standards that went along with it. This was a chance to break out, Owen would never understand that, but he loved his people and if he thought he was protecting them, he would do anything. Helder would always follow his father. Her paradox of love for the people she was betraying, and her loathing for what they stood (stand?) for ripped her soul.
“This is because of the laws, right?” Sead said. The Queen focused on the disdain she held against Owen, remembering that it was his pathetic decisions that now brought murderers into their home.
Thundering footsteps erupted down the hallway. They could hear the doors being kicked open one by one, each sounded like cannon fire and made Sead jump. Fiore kissed her son and stood in front of the door, composing herself, preparing for a political plea for her life.
The voices grew louder, barking unceremonious orders to each other. When the door opened, splintering at the hinges, neither Sead nor his mother flinched, though the boy let out a small whimper. Over a dozen men ran into the room, armed with kitchen knives, farming tools, and other makeshift- though deadly- weapons. The prince played his part well, clenching his jaw and holding himself with pride as two men pulled him from his bed. The queen wasted no time pleading their case.
“We don’t support my husband, killing us would be cold blooded murder,” she said
“Got that royal blood,” the man in the front said, “can’t have that.” he pointed his spear at her gut.
“I’m not my father,” Sead said. He ripped his arms from his captors grip, commanding everyone’s attention, “He never loved me, why should I love him?”
Fiore felt her heart turn to ice as her son argued their case.
***
Cruisers were faster than rollers, though not nearly as agile. Owen played to the strength of his transport, abandoning the straight level road for the thick trees of Red forest, fabled history said this was the birthplace of man, where the first Shaders learned to lead. The trees kept them safe from blackfire, the trees keeping the cruisers from a direct shot. Owen had no plan, other than finding a way to keep Helder safe. Maybe if he could create enough distance he could leave his son and lead the cruisers away. Owen always believed in the idea that there was no leading without risk, but too much risk...
Helder kept his wits about him, constantly checking the blind spots to help his father drive. He glanced over each shoulder, back and forth, his body spinning and stretching trying to keep an eye on the enemy. Owen kept his eyes on the cruisers, relying on the Light he had stored to guide him.
“We aren’t going to make it,” Helder said, his voice steady, as if he was stating a simple fact.
“Time, death, and truth,” The King said, under his breath, then turned to Helder, “You need to hide son, they need to think you are dead, but just hide.”
“I don’t understand,” Helder said, though his eyes betrayed him.
Owen removed his White cloak and infused all the light he could into the coat, so it glowed like its owner’s eyes, and handed it over to his son. Light and Purity would be enough to protect against blackfire.The roller slowed, and Owen circled back behind his opponents, they would take a moment to turn around, offering the roller a brief moment of security.
“Why?” is all Helder managed to say. How could a father respond? Owen needed to die, he was in charge, his death is the only thing that could bring mercy to Helder. His cloak was the only protection he could offer.
Owen turned the roller against a thick tree near a sand cliff, carved out anciently when this area was buried in water. Owen felt his breath shake. Before the roller was wedged in place He turned it around to face his enemies. The cruisers would have to maneuver slowly to get in, giving the two a moment of peace.
“Listen Helder,” Owen said, wrapping the glowing cloak around his son, “there is something wrong, all I know is the Church isn’t what it seems. Shading is a tool-”
A roar from up ahead cut him short. He lost his words for a moment, but the roar of the cruisers told him he was short on time.
“Save them,” Owen said.
“Who?” Helder said, his voice sounded angry like a burning fire, “Save who?”
The King didn’t hesitate, “All of them.”
“You are my king,” Helder said. Black fire erupted close by, though neither moved.
“No Helder, you are my king.”
He gave his son one last kiss on his forehead and covered his face in the cloak, making sure his son’s entire body was hidden. He had fulfilled his time. This was his death. He knew that Helder would find a way to protect the people, that was his truth.
Owen opened the latch on the roof of the roller and climbed on top. His eyes glowed a fierce white, pulling any Light towards him, except for the Light in Helder’s cloak. A cruiser stopped several yards away, the tunnels were too narrow for more than one cruiser to fit in, and Owen could hear the burning start. Everything was quiet for a moment, only the steady rhythm of heartbeats filled the room with echoes. Owen hoped that the men in the cruiser had hesitated, debating if this was the right thing to do. Maybe they would save their King.
An explosion of Black fire proved him wrong. There was just enough time for him to combat it with a shield of light. In the roller Helder understood that they needed this to seem like their last stand, like they were trying to fight their way out. The demonic flames danced and licked around the edges of a Light shield like rats squeezing under a door. Owen felt the light fade from his eyes, he felt the heat attack his ankles, he felt his clothes disintegrate before his flesh blistered and charred. Owen felt himself die.
***
Fiore had thought it best to not tell Sead about the other half of their family until after the ceremony, but the moment he saw her, he asked. She told him they were burned and thrown into the river. Sead barely blinked. He simply nodded and asked to be lead to the palace’s balcony, where he would be named the Heir of Rumen.
Fiore was stripped of all titles except for mother, though much of the palace staff referred to her as Queen. She was fine with that, her title had been meaningless anyways. In reality she was now held in higher esteem by the people. She had given purpose and direction to the rebellion, found a way to give the people power. No one blamed her for abandoning her husband, citing her bravery and dedication to the people as one of the reasons that they were allowed to live, and rule.
There had been stipulations, of course. Sead was to be trained. They moved the three nobles that governed the capitol’s city life into the Palace, along with a representative from each of the Eight Kingdoms, to help train her son to be a more fitting king. When he turned eighteen, in six years time, he would be eligible to take a royal test. While the parameters for that test had not yet been established, the people wanted to be ruled. Sead would succeed. Bishop Greenan demanded that the church receive equal representation as well, using his calling to wedge himself into the training. Of course the people still recognized the Church’s authority. They didn’t know Greenan like Fiore did.
Before the proud ex-queen stepped onto the balcony she took a moment to let the sizeable crowd greet their future king. She had asked for a moment alone when she had been told that her husband and Helder had been killed, but really didn’t need it. She felt no regret. She felt no sadness. Only a deep, aching sense of pride for her only living son, only relief for the people that she had saved. Stepping into the sunlight Fiore made brief eye contact with Greenan, and a cold chill ran down her spine. Despite that he had helped save the people and kept Sead safe, she couldn’t help but remember the fear she saw whenever Owen looked at him. Greenan was not the man he claimed to be.
I didn’t kill my family, Fiore thought, Greenan did.
***
That night, after the ceremonies and celebratory feasts Sead sat alone in his room. He fixed his eyes on the dwindling flame of his night stand candle, a White flame, pulling energy from the last few rays of sunlight that stretched over the horizon. Soon he would need to call a servant to start a real flame, this would be that last White fire in the castle. He watched the light fall behind the mountains in the distant, symbolic of the death of this shameless worship of Light and Purity. Knowing that he could not extinguish the flame he suppressed the urge to stamp it out. It would only go if it died naturally, if there was nothing else it could suck life from.
The last ray of sunlight fell behind the mountain and his room was black, the life draining fire now dead. In the silence he felt movement, like a beast had just been awakened from a long rest. A deep voice, rough like a growling dog, mixed with the sharp anger of lightning spoke in his mind.
Sead couldn’t make out the words at first, his fear paralyzing his mind. He stood and looked around the room, but in the blackness he couldn’t make out any shapes. The voice came again, though the words still discernible. Sead buried his fear under a fake cloak of bravery, puffing out his chest like a child pretending to be a warrior he spoke.
“Make yourself understood, fiend,” he said, the last word hung in the air.
A cackling sound erupted all around him, as if the noise came from everywhere at once. This monster mocked him, laughed at him. Then the words came, he understood what was said, though as he listened his knees failed him and Sead collapsed into his chair again.
You are nothing, the figure said in his mind, I am your power.
***
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