When we arrived home, coming off the ships onto the wide open dark green hills of grass, the ocean churned below the cliff sides, foaming beneath us. The sky was gray and ready to rain with the constant downpour I had grown used to as a child raised here. No more sand. No more crystal clear water. I liked this far more. However, I did not think my brother agreed, judging by how he walked out of the ship's hangar and passed me with Sir Rickon without a word.
Tonight at dinner would be something else, but it was time to cut the thorns off these roses. I stretched my arms over my head and started walking for the doors when Venula Zen stepped in front of me. Her massive longsword, still in its sheath, poked out beneath her overcoat.
"I do not know what has been going on within that brain of yours, boy. But do be careful. I have to leave today, it seems. My knight liege has recalled me back to the Crown Fleet. War is brewing with the Free Unions," she said, yet still did not move as I stared her down.
"Thanks for the warning, my lady. But you can be sure I am fine within my mind. Now step aside, human," I said with more venom than I meant. It showed in the shock that crossed her eyes for a second before she finally moved.
"Just like your father, it seems," she scoffed, then walked off.
How dare she. I was better than that foolish man. Too bad for her, I supposed. I had much fun to have. I walked toward the massive mansion that sat on the cliff as the rain began lightly. I felt the sprinkle fall from the darkening gray skies as I reached the massive metal double doors with dark ebony wood. Metal in the middle, wood on the outside on both sides. That was how the whole building was. Opening the door was always a trick. It looked wooden, yet it was heavy like metal.
The walls were metal within, thin wood covering them. A massive block of a building with three floors and three towers, one in the middle and two on the front corners, each lit with lanterns from within like a lighthouse at night. Some guards dragged the Cavlar man we had captured past me, his overcoat removed so that only a green button-up shirt and black pants remained.
Walking these halls, I knew that if I did what I was planning, I might never see this place again. I hated losing something familiar, yet there were no kind memories here. This hallway before the front doors of the manor was where my brother had tripped me countless times, where my sister had tricked me into speaking with visitors I should not have.
Turning right, where a mirror with gold lining stood from floor to ceiling, I watched the guards close the front doors and fix their flat caps. This path would eventually lead to the library, where I had spent more time than even my sister. Odd as it was, maybe that was something we had in common. Or perhaps it was because her lessons from father and her tutors often forced her to read.
I did not have time to look at the many books we owned now. Maybe the answers to what I was lay in those pages. Surely among so many volumes, one must tell me if I was a True Blood or not. Instead, I headed for the banister stairs at the end of the hall. My black boots clicked against the polished wood flooring as the wall lights grew dim. They needed replacement, but who would bother without my order? Father never minded this wing being dark.
I moved up the stairs and through the maze of rooms, dust clinging to handles and wall trim. I swore this section used to be filled with life. And yet I found the room. Two double black doors marked with red lines like veins running through an arm. Slowly, I pressed my finger against the square handle. A small prick touched my skin, followed by a beep. The doors unlocked after my blood was checked.
I stepped into my mother's room. It was dark, empty, yet full of things. A queen-sized bed with red and black silk blankets sat untouched for years. The windows were sealed over as if they never existed, leaving the room like a smooth box. A desk with pens and papers rested at the far end beside two red velvet chairs. A large round black fur rug covered the center of the floor, cords running from the walls like snakes.
At the center stood a coffin. A capsule. White glass covered the top of the black structure, copper pipes looping in and out of it. A faint blue glow shone from the edge of the glass, showing it was still active.
I pulled a chair beside it and looked in. I did not know why, but I brushed my messy black hair back, its waves and curls refusing to settle.
"Hello, Mother," I said softly, smiling at the woman who did not move.
Spellblood crystallization had destroyed her organs, forcing her into this medical pod. It slowed her blood, heated her body, and pumped countless liquids through cords attached to her skin. This was what kept her alive since I failed, like so many others, to find a cure. Failed, as my father liked to remind me.
This was what failure did. People said losing was a lesson meant to make you stronger. I disagreed. Sometimes you only get one chance, and I had lost mine.
This stupid sickness of our blood had trapped this woman with closed diamond-blue eyes and long sandy-blonde hair. In the sunlight, at the right angle, it would have looked almost strawberry blonde with faint pink tints. Instead, she lay sealed in a box.
"Mother, I am going to do something," I whispered. "It might be stupid, but I cannot live like this forever. I hate being the second. The one who failed. Failed to save you. Failed to learn to fight and still struggles."
I felt the bruise that had already faded, my Spellblood healing the damage easily. I could not afford to be hit again. Not ever.
"I am going to stop seeing you for a while. I promise I will come back. Not for them or this manor. For you. For your stupid smile that always made father smile too. I guess this is goodbye."
I laughed softly and tried to stand.
I did not stand.
Darkness swallowed everything. I stood on nothing, suspended in a void.
"Well, this feels familiar," I muttered, beginning to walk.
Had I passed out, or fallen asleep before I even stood?
Something moved ahead. As it approached, I saw a tall, lanky human shape. White eyes stared at me, blinking slowly like a dead fish. It was the same thin, pale man from before. The same one who had worn Venula's face in my dream.
Eris.
"Well, welcome to the End, brother," he smiled, spreading his arms like a king presenting his throne.
"What is going on here?" I shouted, reaching for my sword and finding nothing.
He wore a white overcoat now, a black button-up shirt beneath, white pants. On his right hand, a blood-red ring shaped like a skull and scythe pulsed with unnatural life.
Was this another dream, or something far worse? And if it was real, what kind of being could bring me here?