At the bottom of the Sovereign's Rest, within the tomb chamber, the impossible lay before them. The eight figures stood frozen, their minds reeling from the sight of The Ashen King's perfectly preserved body. Ten thousand years had passed, yet he remained untouched by decay, his youthful face and sculpted physique seemingly frozen in time. His long, silver hair flowed like molten metal, and his silver eyes, though devoid of life, held an unsettling beauty.
Theron approached the golden altar, his hands trembling as he touched the ice-cold skin. He checked for a pulse, finding none, then gently lifted an eyelid, peering into the lifeless silver depths.
"He's dead," he announced, his voice hoarse with a mixture of awe and disappointment.
A wave of relief washed over the group, followed by a lingering fear. Cael's eyes remained brown, reflecting the dread that gripped him.
"He doesn't look dead," Ronan muttered, voicing the unspoken thought that haunted them all.
"Are you sure, old master?" Astrid pressed, her voice laced with uncertainty.
"I am," Theron affirmed.
"He doesn't," Tamsin agreed, her gaze meeting Magnar's.
"Dead is dead," Magnar stated firmly. "Let's not get distracted."
Despite the confirmation of the king's death, Theron's eyes gleamed with excitement. The perfectly preserved body was undeniable proof of the Ashen King's existence and his extraordinary abilities. This was what he had sought for so long, the key to unlocking the secrets of the past.
"We came here for a reason," he declared, his voice regaining its usual authority. "Find any books, scrolls, and writings, anything with words on it. Bring it all to me."
"What about the gold?" Rednar asked, his eyes gleaming with avarice.
"After we've gathered the knowledge, you can take all the gold you can carry," Theron promised. "You two as well," he added, glancing at Cael and Ronan.
Cael's eyes turned blue with anticipation. Even a small portion of this treasure could ensure his family's comfort for the rest of their lives.
"We'll help," Cael and Ronan agreed in unison.
They split up, leaving the king's body unguarded as they scoured the chamber for any trace of written knowledge. Theron, joined by Magnar and Rednar, stumbled upon a wall adorned with ancient murals and inscriptions detailing the king's reign. As he studied the faded images and cryptic symbols, a look of horror spread across his face.
"It can't be!" he exclaimed, his body trembling.
"What is it?" Magnar asked, his voice laced with concern.
"We have to leave, now!" Theron cried, panic edging his voice. "I was wrong to come here, wrong to seek this place!"
"Explain yourself!" Magnar demanded, his calm demeanor cracking under the pressure of the old scholar's sudden fear.
"There's no time! These are instructions for escaping the tomb... for when..." Theron's words were cut short as a cold dread descended upon them. They turned, their blood turning to ice as they saw the king standing behind them, his silver eyes glowing in the dim light. He advanced slowly, his gaze fixed on them, and moments later, their screams echoed through the chamber.
The others rushed towards the source of the commotion, only to find Theron, Magnar, and Rednar lying in a pool of blood, their bodies dismembered. The king stood above them, his naked form splattered with blood.
Cael, Tamsin, and Ronan instinctively reached for their bows, knocking arrows as Grave-Walker and Astrid drew their knives. The king, holding Theron's severed head in his hand, his right arm missing but already regenerating, advanced towards them with an eerie calm.
Ronan, his instincts screaming at him to flee, stood his ground, his voice trembling as he spoke. "We mean you no harm! We just want to leave."
The king ignored him, his gaze sweeping over the group as if assessing their threat. He then turned away, prompting Tamsin, consumed by grief and rage, to shoot an arrow that pierced his chest, burying itself deep within his heart. The king remained unfazed, the wound healing instantly.
"Damn it, Tamsin!" Ronan shouted, but it was too late. The others, emboldened by the king's apparent invulnerability, joined the attack, their knives and arrows finding their marks but leaving no lasting damage.
"Cael, let's get out of here!" Ronan urged, his eyes wide with terror.
"Run where?" Cael replied, his eyes brown with fear. "There's no escape." He watched as the king tossed Theron's head towards them, narrowly missing him. He turned back to see the others ceasing their futile assault, their faces etched with despair.
"How is he still alive?" Tamsin cried, her voice breaking.
She charged at the king, her knife raised, but he dodged her attack and lunged towards Cael and Ronan. Ronan attempted to defend himself, but the king sprayed blood from his regenerating arm into his eyes, blinding him. He disarmed Ronan and pinned him to the ground.
Then, for the first time in ten thousand years, the king spoke. "I am glad you came."
He turned his attention to Cael, whose fear was etched on his face. "Cael. Run!" Ronan yelled.
"Argh?" Cael cried, his voice filled with despair. "There's nowhere to go. If I die today, I'd rather face my enemy than be struck down from behind." His eyes turned violet with the acceptance of his fate.
The king tilted his head, his gaze locked on Cael. Then, he charged. Cael fired an arrow, but it did little to slow the king's advance. He stood before Cael, his silver eyes boring into the young shepherd's brown ones.
"So, you are Cael," the king said, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. "You are the link I've been searching for."
The group stared in stunned silence. How did he know Cael's name? What did he mean by "link"?
"Don't move if you value your lives," the king warned, his voice resonating with power. He focused on Cael. "Let me see those eyes of yours."
Cael stood frozen as the king cupped his face, his bloodstained hands contrasting with the boy's pale skin. He leaned in, his gaze intense, then made a small cut on Cael's cheek with his thumbnail. He brought the blood to his lips, tasting it.
"Faint, but I can sense it. You have the Anima within you. You are the reason I awoke." A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
"What do you want with me?" Cael asked, his voice trembling despite his newfound courage.
"I want you," the king replied simply. "I wish to speak. Cease your struggles."
"Then stop attacking us!" Cael demanded.
"Agreed," the king said, releasing him.
Cael sank to the ground, watching as the king walked towards the bodies of the fallen. The others, relieved by the sudden truce, watched in horrified fascination as the king removed the arrows and knives embedded in his flesh. Each wound healed instantly, leaving no trace of the assault.
"This will do for now," he said, then began to remove the clothes from the corpses, dressing himself in their garments.
Tamsin sobbed uncontrollably as she watched him desecrate her brother's remains. Even Astrid and Grave-Walker shuddered at the sight.
Ronan approached Cael, his voice filled with disbelief. "You saved our lives, Cael. But how does he know you?"
"I don't know," Cael replied, his voice barely a whisper. "But I feel like I just sold myself."
"Better than being dead," Ronan said grimly.
The king, now fully clothed, sat upon a pile of gold. "Now, let's talk."
Tamsin, overcome with grief and rage, raised her bow, aiming an arrow at the king.
"Killing me is pointless," the king said, his voice cold and emotionless. "I am immortal. We have a deal. You are safe as long as you agree to talk."
"Tamsin, stop!" Astrid pleaded. "You can't kill him!"
"He killed my brother! I might as well join him!" Tamsin screamed, her voice raw with pain.
"I can change what I did," the king offered. "But only if you hear me out."
"Change what?" she demanded, her voice hoarse with tears.
"I can bring them back to life."
"How?" she cried, her eyes filled with a desperate hope.
"Listen and you will know."
Tamsin collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. Ronan held her close, offering what comfort he could.
"Now that we can talk like civilized men," the king began, "you should know I acted in self-defense. I was not fully aware of my actions. I did not intend to harm them."
"Is that so?" Grave-Walker asked skeptically.
"I do not lie," the king stated, his gaze unwavering. "And I know everything about you, about all of you. Escape is futile."
"Like we'd believe that," Astrid scoffed.
"I know how you joined Theron's quest in the Bear's Claw pub, Astrid. I know you've been searching for my tomb for two years, and this is the fifth location you've visited."
"What? How?" Astrid gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Only Theron and I knew about that day!"
"Theron was right about some things, wrong about others. We could have been friends."
"This is...unsettling," Astrid admitted, a shiver running down her spine.
The king rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping over the chamber. "Based on your attire and weapons, your kind is still primitive I see. Even now, knowing your history, I am unsure why your evolution stagnated. Further inquiry is required."
"What do we do now?" Astrid asked, turning to Grave-Walker.
"We do nothing," Ronan interjected, approaching with Cael. "My instincts tell me to stand down. He's dangerous, fast, strong... and unkillable."
"He's right," Grave-Walker agreed. "I've never felt so helpless."
"We just sit here and wait?" Astrid asked incredulously.
"We have no choice," Cael said, his voice heavy with resignation. "He wants to talk. If he wanted us dead, we'd be dead already."
"How can we trust him after what he did?" Astrid cried, her voice raw with grief and anger.
"We have to," Ronan said gently. "Luckily, he seems interested in Cael."
"I don't like it either," Cael admitted, "but what else can we do?"
"We've faced worse and survived," Grave-Walker reminded her. "I'd rather live another day than die for revenge."
Astrid reluctantly agreed, her gaze lingering on Tamsin, who still wept over her brother's remains.
"What do you think he's doing?" Ronan asked, watching as the king studied the wall inscriptions.
"Perhaps he's reading the messages left by his followers," Grave-Walker suggested.
"Can you read them?" Cael asked.
"No. The language is ancient, dead for millennia. Theron could read it, but I'm no scholar."
"If so, how is the king able to speak our language!" Cael wondered.
"I can because you can," the king said, his voice startling them. Cael's eyes turned green with surprise.
"He heard us? How?" Ronan whispered.
"I just can," the king replied simply. "Come closer."
The three men approached cautiously. The king turned to them, his gaze lingering on Cael's eyes. "Your eyes are a marvel. You are the key to escaping this forsaken planet."
"I don't understand," Cael said, his voice barely a whisper.
"You will," the king assured him. "After uniting the people of Erathos, I built a civilization greater than any before it. I spread knowledge and prosperity, but then the Dragon came, draining the planet's Anima, and your star system, weakening me. I fell into a slumber, and this tomb became my resting place."
"What's a star system? Anima? Dragon? You mean the Sun-Serpent?" Cael asked, his mind reeling from the influx of new information.
"The Dragon is your Sun-Serpent, as for the Anima and star system... It's complicated. I'll answer your questions in time," the king promised. "But first, let me tell you the story recorded on this wall. After I fell asleep, two kings, Harkon and Vael, betrayed me. Turning the people against me and plunging the land into chaos. My followers, fearing for my safety, hid me here and erased all records of this place."
"What happened next?" Grave-Walker asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Those two likely won the war," the king surmised. "But something else must have happened to explain your current state of development. However, we have more pressing matters to discuss."
"Why are you telling us this?" Ronan asked, his suspicion evident in his voice.
"To provide context," the king explained. "To show you that not everything you've been told is true. And to earn your trust."
"Trust? After what you've done?" Ronan scoffed. "We need more than a story to believe you."
"I can tell you what I am, but you wouldn't understand."
"Try us," Grave-Walker challenged.
The king met his gaze, his voice steady. "I am a god."
"A god?" Cael's eyes turned green with disbelief. "You must be mad!"
"Yes. And maybe," the king replied enigmatically. "I will explain more, but first, I need your help. Especially yours, Cael."
"What can a shepherd boy do for a god?" Cael asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
"Everything," the king answered. "My proposal is simple. I need something. In return, I will reward you with anything you desire."
"Can you bring my brother back?" Tamsin cried, her voice filled with longing.
"I can. Not only him, anyone. But only if you help me."
A stunned silence followed his words. Even Cael, who had witnessed the king's extraordinary abilities, struggled to believe him.
"You can really bring the dead back to life?" Ronan asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"I am living proof of that," the king replied.
"Do it now!" Tamsin begged. "Bring my brother back!"
"I cannot. Not yet. Help me, and I will fulfill your desires."
"If we help you, will you grant us anything we want?" Cael asked, his voice filled with a cautious hope.
"Anything," the king confirmed. "Do we have a deal?"
"And if we refuse?" Astrid challenged. "You expect us to trust your word? To help someone who killed our friends?"
"You have no reason to refuse," the king replied calmly. "But if you do, you die. Then I return to my slumber and wait. I have nothing to lose, but you will lose everything."
The group exchanged apprehensive glances. The weight of their decision pressed down on them. Cael, his eyes brown with fear, knew he did not want to die, not today, not when there was a chance for a better future.
"We don't have a choice, do we?" Astrid sighed.
"I like to think you do," the king countered.
"We have a deal," Cael declared, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. He looked at his companions. "What about you?"
"Good," the king said, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. "Now, tell me your desires, and I will grant them. You have my word."
One by one, they voiced their wishes: Tamsin, her brother's life; Grave-Walker, payment for his services; Astrid, the return of Magnar and Theron, and the gold; Ronan, an end to his boredom.
"Done," the king said. "You can have it all."
"What about the bodies?" Tamsin asked, her voice thick with grief.
"Take a tooth from each. That's all I need to regenerate them," the king instructed. "Leave the rest."