King Bennet IV
Winter-acheron
Weltharas continent (south)
Seven days before destruction of Aravan island
A crackling wave of chaotic magic blistered through the air, hammering into the Ghost King. Knocked back, he caught his balance and raised his alligator-shaped sword, settling into his stance once again.
King Bennet fired another blast of sorcery. Red-tongued fire licked the air, trying to bridge the distance between them. The Ghost King laughed and snapped his fingers. Countless shields piled atop one another, encircling the Ghost King in a wall of steel. The fire that incessantly charged forward was deflected, spraying outward in a wild arc. King Fedrac threw himself to the ground, barely dodging the redirected blast of flame.
Enough, thought King Bennet.
He charged, raging like a bull. He vaulted over the bodies of his fallen comrades, raising Spellrac high as he met the Ghost King. The clashing of steel and the collision of sorcery made the air heavy with the scent of wafting turmoil. Bennet spun, thrusting his blade toward Gelvato's gut, but the Ghost King was a blur of frost; he was already behind him, swinging his alligator-hilted sword in a wide arc meant to decapitate.
Bennet dropped low, the whistling blade missing his neck by a hair's breadth. He kicked backward with desperate force. Gelvato let out a choked scream as the blow connected with his groin, his icy composure shattering. Bennet used the momentum to spin, bringing Spellrac around in a deadly horizontal lash, but Gelvato recovered just in time to parry.
The swords clashed with a clang that rang across the battlefield like a funeral bell. Neither stopped. They became a whirlwind of silver and black, their blades striking so fast they left trails of fire and frost in the air.
The Ghost King roared, his eyes glowing with a dying, frantic light. He leaned into a heavy overhead strike, his sword vibrating with the spirits of the warriors etched into its length. Bennet didn't move to block; he stepped into the strike, letting the Ghost King's blade bite into his shoulder armor. He felt the metal crunch and the bone snap, but because of his sacrifice, he felt no pain—only the cold vibration of the steel.
With a snarl, Bennet grabbed the Ghost King's throat with his gauntleted hand. He pulled the tall, pale specter closer until they were chest-to-chest, the heat of Bennet's burning ink tattoos meeting the freezing mist of Gelvato's chest piece.
"You talk of kings," Bennet hissed, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "But a king dies with his people. You're just a coward hiding behind a river of ghosts."
Bennet drove the pommel of Spellrac into Gelvato's face, shattering the Ghost King's visor. Behind the steel, Gelvato's face was a ruin of pale skin and black veins. The Ghost King stumbled back, gasping, as the burning obsidian fire from the river reflected in his wide, terrified eyes.
"I've had enough of your righteous morals."
The Ghost King laughed, and for the first time, Bennet believed the legends: the Ghost King was death itself.
"Who isn't corrupt in this world, huh? Who isn't! Some hide it, some show it. The former are filled with pansy cowards who pretend they are good, while the latter... they are true. True to themselves. They have the courage to at least recognize what they are. They face their sins boldly; they accept who they are, unlike cowards like you who pretend to do good because they want the approval of others. You do not do it because you believe in it; you do it because you want appreciation for it.
"Do you know why I do these things? Is it because I lust for power? Is it because I love chaos? No! I do it because I can. It is the unvarnished truth. It is up to you to believe me or not; I don't care. I am simply here to do things that others cannot. I do what I want because I feel like doing it. I work on instinct; I don't plan or ponder over things like you 'clever' people do. That is conniving. People who do that are hiding from themselves. I've committed every atrocity imaginable, but let me ask you this, 'righteous king': have you never committed a crime that you regret? If you have, then there is no difference between you and me."
"There is a diff—"
The Ghost King charged and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing tighter with each passing breath. "Told you I work on instinct, King Bennet," he spat, raising his sword to deal the final blow.
King Bennet closed his eyes. The ink on his chest whirled, encircling him. It protected him, coalescing into a shield with a sound like a hammer striking an anvil. The Ghost King scrutinized the scene, his brow furrowed.
"I feel nothing now, Gelvato," Bennet spat back.
The inky force around him manifested a blade of its own. It attacked Gelvato continuously, striking with such ferocity that the Ghost King was forced back several paces away from Bennet.
King Bennet raised his right hand, waving it back and forth as the ink sword continuously attacked Gelvato. The cursed black blade struck him on the gorget, choking his breath, and then hammered against his breastplate. The shadow ink began to permeate his skin.
"Aghhhh!" Gelvato shouted, desperately trying to entangle the mess. The black sword relentlessly assailed him. It moved as if controlled by a god filled with rage. The Ghost King countered some attacks with his own blade; he was parrying and dodging, but it was futile. The sword ambushed him from all sides without pause. His greaves started to crack and then his vambraces. After that, his chainmail began to break, clattering on the mud-splattered Gharial road of Winter-Acheron.
"Stop this!" shrieked the Ghost King.
Bennet, smiling a cold smile, continued his work. The black sword invaded the King's left shoulder. As soon as Gelvato could grab it, the sword freed itself and attacked his other shoulder, making him scream incessantly.
Amberia
Amberia smirked. "Not bad." She raised both hands and counted ten heavy breaths. By the fifth breath, she could feel the old magic pulsing through her veins; it slithered like a snake with black, blotched lines across her skin.
"Wings of Amberia. Rise once more and defeat my enemies. In return, I will give you something that you have never seen."
The land, the kingdom, and the fallen soldiers all trembled. The kings on Gharial Road stood frozen as a large wyvern with silver scales vibrated through the air. The beast was a monument of ancient malice; its scales were not merely silver but looked like polished mirrors reflecting the carnage below. Its wingspan was vast enough to cast a shadow that swallowed the entire battlefield, and each flap of its leathery membranes sounded like a thunderclap.
The wyvern's face was a mask of jagged bone and obsidian eyes. A gigantic, rusted chain hung from its maw, bobbing blithely as the creature tilted its head toward the landscape. It roared. It was a sound that had been hungry for centuries; a vibration that rattled the teeth of every living man on the field.
The chains snapped forward with the speed of a striking viper and coiled around Gelvato.
"What folly is this!" the Ghost King shrieked.
The chains wrapped him tightly across his gut, exactly where Amberia had signaled. The metal glowed with a white-hot heat as it bit into his flesh. His eyes bulged and his breath became ragged. The wyvern dangled him like a puppet, its silver scales shimmering with the reflected fire of the burning Ghost River.
"S-st...op," Gelvato wheezed. The beast ignored him. It pulled the chain taut, lifting the Ghost King off his feet until he was eye-to-eye with the silver monster. The wyvern opened its mouth, revealing rows of translucent teeth that hummed with the same frequency as the shadow-ink. It wasn't just going to kill him; it was preparing to swallow his very soul.
King Bennet lV
King Bennet interjected, his voice cold and steady. "I promised my friend he would deal the final blow. Stop your beast."
Amberia nodded. With a flick of her wrist, the silver wyvern uncoiled its chains and hurled Gelvato through the air like a discarded rag. King Fedrac, watching the Ghost King fall, asked what was happening. In response, King Bennet handed him his old sword; Spellrac belonged to Bennet now, bound to his soul by ink and blood.
Fedrac gripped the familiar hilt and smiled. As Gelvato tumbled through the sky, Fedrac stepped forward and swung. He decapitated the Ghost King in mid-air with swift, lethal precision. The head of the tyrant spun into the mud of the Gharial Road. Fedrac stood over the remains and took a long, heavy sigh of relief.
...
"I can't believe it. It ended just like that," King Fedrac said, heaving a sigh of relief.
It was finally done. The Ghost King was dead. His head was a feast for crows now; his tongue was shattered by the intensity of his own teeth, which had been pressed hard together in his final moments.
"Pardon my interjections, but you have a task to fulfill."
A shimmering glow appeared as a red cloth seemed to tear open the very air. She stepped through the rift, her eyes fixed on King Bennet.
"The war here is over, Bennet," she said. "You must abandon the ruins of Winter arens. Your path leads to Aegis Reach, the middle continent. You must sail toward Aravan Island and find Sonavr Valemount."
Bennet looked at the ink staining his skin, then at the weary soldiers picking through the rubble. He shook his head, realisation finally settling in. "You must be Amberia. Look, I am grateful for your guidance, Amberia, but I refuse. My people need me. I cannot abandon them now when the world is in ashes."
Amberia stepped closer, her voice dropping to a low, melodic hum. "You have many great things ahead of you. You are a king of shadows now, and you should not bind yourself to one place. This kingdom is a grave. Aravan Island holds the key to the power you now carry."
"A grave or not, it is my home," Bennet replied. He looked at Fedrac and then back to the horizon. "I will not leave. I have refused before, and I refuse again. A king stays with his subjects until the last stone is set back in place."
"Trust me, this is for your own good. Sonavr needs your help. He is a mere boy."
"Whoever he is, I do not know him. I know my people. They are famished, with no food. This is not the time to cower away. They need me, and I need them. I don't want to run, not again."
He wanted to cry. He wanted to feel the weight of what he was saying, but nothing stirred him. He remained impassive, as though someone else was speaking those words instead of him.
King Fedrac stepped over. "I know this has nothing to do with me; my revenge is over. But why do you say that he has many great things ahead of him? Why can't he stay here and rule his own kingdom? His own people?"
"I wish I had a say. Gods are beings that remain obscure until the day you die. They deliberately hide consequential details." A look of regret washed over her face, as if something were bubbling up in those beautiful eyes of hers.
King Fedrac gave a nod. "I know you. In some parts of Weltharas, people revere you as a goddess. Some say you are a... well."
"They call me all sorts of things. All of them are true," Amberia completed for him.
King Fedrac looked over, scanning his friend's face. "I can't believe I am saying this, but you should go. You needn't worry about Winter aren. I will take this burden on myself, no matter how onerous it may be. I will tell your people that you perished in this war. I will tell them that you died fighting for them. You never ran. You never did. You fought valiantly and killed the Ghost King. But you... well, you know."
"No, friend. The burden is too heavy for you. You already rule Silver Peaks. Now you will have another kingdom to rule."
"I don't think she is here to ask, friend. God knows how many people have tried to refuse her commands. What happened to them was, well, nothing good, presumably."
King Bennet was tired. Perhaps his lack of feeling did that, or maybe his thirst to prove himself was over now that the Ghost King was dead. Perhaps it was something else. Something told him to free himself from these chains; to free himself from the reins of Winter arens. His body showed no emotion, and neither did his mind. Closing his eyes, he tried to feel something within him that was no longer there. Slowly but surely, he realized that he was empty now.
He had nothing left to lose. His people might be better off ruled by his good friend Fedrac, a king better than him. His valor had been proven, and he would be free to travel wherever he could. Maybe, just maybe, he could pursue his talent for weapons now.
"Yes. The gratuity for helping Sonavr is that you will travel the world with him. With others as well. You will journey through the entire world," she said, as if she could see his face and read his thoughts.
"I can acquire many unseen weapons. I can even search for swords that are known to be deadly," he said, trying his best to smile. He failed.
"Is that a yes?" asked Amberia.
"Can I at least see Winter arens for the last time?" he pleaded.
"That you will have to do anyway. You have to take Ishwari Chisole with you."
"What? What do you want with her?"
"No need to be defensive. She is needed on Aravan Island as well. Trust me, you will appreciate her presence there."
"I know you aren't going to tell me, but who is Sonavr and what is going to happen on Aravan that requires me to rescue him? Why specifically him? Why do I have to travel with him?"
Amberia smiled and tore open the red curtain. Stepping through it, she spoke.
"The Supreme King is restless. His son is in trouble. A prince rides on a dragon. A demigod rows in a boat made of ice. A godlike warrior weeps for his king but is ready to move forward. A young boy wishes to prove himself, whilst a king has already proven himself. A poor girl makes herself an assassin while the young prince sleeps with all his knowledge."
The curtain disappeared, and so did she.
King Bennet, grimacing, faced King Fedrac. "Mount up. We have a long journey ahead."
The world of sumaka through eyes of Amberia —
Sonavr shall rise to lead the way,
The head of the group through the coming day.
At his right hand stands Brumen Sadika,
The second in command, the steady star.
Kreydan Zarathos, a shield of sworn oath,
Bound to the boy and the safety of both.
Beside him stands Kaleor Veryl, the guide,
To ensure that the path remains open and wide.
From the shadows stalks Ishwari Chisole,
To hunt for the meat and to keep the group whole. She hides every footprint from prying eyes, A ghost in the forest under charcoal skies.
And lastly, the King who has sacrificed all,
Bennet shall catch the young boy should he fall. He will teach him of crowns and the weight of the land, Guiding the future with a shadow-ink hand.