Part 5 – NEVER SURRENDER
LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II
VAIGON CITADEL
I STARE AT THE food on my plate as I hear footsteps make their way to the dining room terrace.
“Laven?” Roaner speaks. “Are you all right?”
“I decided my Coronation will be tomorrow afternoon.”
He sits across from me, glances down at my untouched food, and then at me again. “Why? You said you did not want one.”
“I do not. I will follow tradition and have one.”
“The planning of your Coronation is not why you were trapped in the Chaos Chamber all night. Was it?”
“No,” I answer honestly.
And in the silence between us I can hear every single word from last night repeating in my head. The distraught way she spoke that she cannot accept what I cannot give her. My greatest defeat, not being apt for what I so desperately have wanted, turned into a need.
“Ivella said no.” I say over the thoughts that have environed my head.
His dark eyebrows furrow. “No to what?”
I gather my hands in my lap as they begin to shake and he watches. “To me.”
Placing my hands in my lap, I begin to pick at my trousers as I used to when I did not know what to do with my hands in stressful situations.
‘But the ugly, the distraught, the fear, the dreadful pieces of love is what nurtures it. It teaches you the differentiation of choosing to stay and feeling indebted to stay.’
“When did this happen?”
“Yesterday evening.”
I watch it come together in his eyes as he realizes that is why I was mentally absent from all conversation that transpired last night and why I have been physically absent all day.
Roaner contemplates what to say and I have now torn a small hole into my trousers with my nails.
“Place your hands on the table.” He says delicately.
Reluctantly, I do.
His hands firmly press over mine as I now scrape the table with my nails. “What do you need?”
What I need is no longer obtainable.
It will forever be right in front of me, never within my grasp.
And somehow, I am to carry on around her as if nothing matters any longer.
“Nothing.” I stand. “I have planning to do.”
“Laven,” Roaner follows. “It is late, rest. You can pick up wherever you left off in the morning.”
What makes him think I will sleep. I will not know the difference between night and day after time has passed.
“Help me plan for tomorrow,” I say to get him out of my hair. “Amias sent out the letters to the people that my Coronation will be tomorrow and where it will be. I need you to make sure everything is in place.”
I do not know what that specific everything is that I speak of, I just need him and everyone away from me.
“YOU ALL MUST LEARN to work in sync,” Amias’s voice is loud and boisterous as we stand before the trainees on the Training Grounds. “There will be plenty of chances that all of you may come across one another while on the battlefield and if you are not properly aiding each other, it will be pointless to help.”
“As a unit,” Roaner says. “Where one lacks, we all lack. Where one falls the other must naturally be there to pick them up.”
“It is vital.” I announce. “We will show you one of the many ways the four of us learned to operate in the same pace and discover where the other is weak to support.”
Morano and Amias walk across the Training Grounds with a twelve-foot log and place it on the ground in front of us.
“Watch carefully,” Hua advises as Morano, Amias, Roaner, and I stand on one side of the log. “Four people lifting this log at once is not as easy as it seems. Height must be equal, and if it is not, learn where to adjust and how to adjust.”
Roaner stands behind me. “Be careful stronghold, you like to toss this log around like a game of ball.”
“Do not worry, Princess Roaner, I will catch you if you cannot balance it.” Amias chuckles.
“And you better not fall after catching him,” I hear Morano grumble. “I do not want four hundred pounds falling on me at the start of my day.”
In their fit of laughter, Hua begins.
“Down boys,” she commands.
The four of us squat with our backs straight and place our right hand under the log.
“Up!”
We stand and the log heavily sits in our hand.
“Been working on your back muscles as of late,” Amias teases Roaner as our upper bodies are exposed except for the leather arm covers that stop at our shoulders.
“Fuck you,” he mumbles as we shift the log to hover over our shoulders.
“The log should never touch your shoulders,” Hua speaks to the trainees. “It should only be just above it.”
Hua moves to stand in front of us. “Down and over.”
We gradually move down into a squat and back up. “Watch how the shortest adjusts his height to go down and lift at the same time as the tallest.”
Next, we all shift the log from our right shoulder, over our heads and catch it with our left. As the log sits in our hand on our left, we repeat.
Down, up, over.
Down, up, over.
Down, up, over.
“How many more times are we to do this, General Hua.” Morano asks as we squat for the fifth time.”
Hua lazily grins. “As many times as I want you to.”
I know he is holding up a finger at her as she gives one back and the young trainees around us laugh.
“Now, you all will try.” Hua nods for us to place the log down and she selects six trainees of similar height to try first.
The log drops from our hands and slightly bounces at the collision to the ground.
“Thank you for your assistance boys, now get off my grounds.” Hua dismisses us.
“I love you too,” Morano jokes before we ascend.
* * *
“For you,” Stravan enters the Marl Study and places a folded letter on the table in front of me as I prepare a speech for the Coronation.
“What is it?”
“It is from myself and Dyena.” He says as I reach for the letter.
I pull the wax seal and read RENEWAL OF THE VOSCHANTAI GALA, on the other side of the invitation my name is written with the location of the festivities.
“We will be holding the first Voschantai Gala since the split of our nations long ago. This is also our opportunity to show the other realms our unification.”
“Clever,” I nod.
His arms cross as he looks me over. “So you decided to have a Coronation? On my way in your brothers informed me of your plans.”
I nod again.
I am sure that is not all they informed him of.
Dyena most likely knows what happened the other night and has told him to come here.
“What happened to you not having one unless Ivella–”
“Do not finish what you are about to say,” I hold up my hand and return to writing the speech. “When you know exactly what happened.”
“Laven, this will be short-lived.”
“How are you so sure? Did she tell you this?”
“No, she did not tell me this,” he becomes defensive. “But I know Ivella and I have grown to know you as well, and you both are fucking stubborn. I do not know who it will be, but one of you will come to your senses and realize there must be some form of give and take in love. It is never perfect and that is what the both of you must learn. You do not need to show up perfect, and you can have your boundaries while still properly caring for one another. I have gone through this Laven, and until you both come to terms with this there will be no progression.”
He stands. “Now, you may continue with this Coronation as you have planned, I will attend and smile and wave and greet and remind you that without a High Queen, a Coronation will be a futile event.”
* * *
As Stravan leaves, I finally find the courage to write the letter that I should have written first thing this morning.
Ivella,
There is something we must speak of soon regarding the rogues that attempted an attack on Iysha and Levora.
Please respond as soon as you can.
House Arvenaldi
I sign the letter without disclosing my name and stamp it with the Wolf sigil of mine and my brother’s initials. She may be more inclined to respond to me and my family, but not likely just me. No matter what has happened between us, she must be told of what has been said by the prisoner.
“Have it sent immediately,” I say to Ezra as he takes the small rolled letter. “It discloses information that must be responded to right away if she may.”
Ezra nods and before he leaves, he and Morano exchange a glance and he ascends.
“The Coronation is still on?” Morano asks while removing his topcoat.
“Postponed,” I nod. “As of now, it will happen when it is supposed to.”
“Publicly claiming a crown is gratuitous. All it is, is a celebration for commencing when everyone knew you were next in line.”
“Well, now the people are demanding my Coronation. They find it odd that I have not had it yet and are questioning. We all know the rigid nation Lorsius bred, they do not find change to be convenient and when customs are not followed they become irritated.”
“Lorsius is no longer here to wash their backs,” Morano pours himself a glass of dark liquor and then one for me. “They can get over it or go fuck themselves.” He quietly exhales as he eases back into his chair after sipping the alcohol. “How is our little trinity? Levora, Phyv, and Greyce coming along well with their plans to return to the Mortal Lands?”
I take a long sip from the short glass and close my eyes. “Fine, but they are focusing primarily on training before I allow them to be sent back.
Whoever it was that took them there will know the rest are being searched for and we cannot risk them being unprepared. We do not exactly know what lurks in the human world, but if we must, we may go with them as reinforcement.”
Morano smiles as his finger runs over his glass. “I just want to go for the experience.”
“I had a feeling, I think we all do.”
In a sudden rush, Morano and I turn as we hear heavy boots running down the hall, when I turn, I see our guards frantically approaching the study.
“My King, it is Quamfasi! They are under attack, and if we do not act quickly it will reach here. The rogues have returned in large quantities and they are stronger than before.”
Morano’s glass knocks to the floor as we stand. “Ezra,” he mumbles before ascending.
“Prep the guards, gather the Warriors and find Hua, lead them to Quamfasi now!”
XENATHI – QUAMFASI CITADEL
The moment I arrive, the battle is growing just before the boundary lines where the border used to stand. Horses and Pegasi run wildly through the woods to flee, some Pegasi are looking for their rider. I see Ivella standing multiple feet away from a Warrior with a bloodied sword. Behind her, she is guarding Ethel and Kaden, who is struggling to heal the gushing wound to Ethel’s chest.
“She jumped in front of me,” Kaden cries out as his hands shake while healing Ethel.
The battles transpiring around us look far too familiar to what our war will look like. The rogues are fighting intelligently, some in Wolf form, others in silver fighting leathers.
I rush toward them, adding in my own hand of healing until another can aid us. “Kaden, you need to get her to a Healer, we will not be able to do this ourselves. There is but only so far that our healing capabilities can go.”
Just as the Warrior attempts forward for Ivella, I see Roaner running behind the Warrior who caused Ethel’s injury. A force field projects from Roaner throwing him to the ground and just over my head an arrow is let loose, barely missing the Warrior as he stands. I turn and Hua is running over.
“I will take them,” Hua kneels beside me and she slides her bloodied sword into her sheath, gently Hua and Kaden lift Ethel from the ground as she gasps for air.
“Ivella,” I sharply call from below her as she and Roaner stand on both sides of the Warrior. “Kill him.”
They charge at each other and the battle rages louder.
Just as they near, Ivella slides to the ground and between his legs, as she rotates in her glide, she stands and her fist punches directly into his back knocking him unsteady. Her arm forms a chokehold around his neck and he topples over, throwing her to the ground.
She dodges his punch that drives downward and his fist connects with the earth and with the curve between her thumb and first finger, she jars him in the neck repeatedly and he falls back. Out of the corner of my eye, a rogue plows in her direction, without a second thought Ivella draws her dagger from her thigh and using the leverage of a dead body below her, she jumps from it. When the rogue nears, simultaneously her knee rams into his chest and her dagger protrudes through his head forcing blood through his ear.
She moves to the Warrior as he uses this opportunity to attack with her back turned.
Knowing his next move, Ivella turns and the entirety of her eyes fill in an electrifying orange, not a single hint of her green eyes are to be seen within the power overtaking her. That sadistic smile for blood is something I recognize well from the last time I saw her fighting in an ambush. But, this—this smile is different, and this power looks stronger, something unknown to our world. Something that is much more vigorous than anything I have ever seen.
She walks only a few steps before one knee lifts and the depths of the earth below us convulse in a profound vibration. Splits are sent through the ground as she rises into the sky with orbs that circulate in her hands like lava and lightning. Across her skin her powers ignite like they did when she first saved me from a rogue.
In a scurry, the man falls back.
He was not expecting a challenge as this to be at hand.
Ivella’s hands come together expanding the orbs before she soars back to the ground. Her hands punch through the earth, shaking him and his to go unsteady. This is when she seizes her moment. Orb after orb fly from her hands, colliding into his armor, eating away at the fabric until it reaches his skin—devouring his flesh to the bone.
Her large wings appear, and his eyes widen as she tortures him to the ground.
As he falls, so do the rogues around us.
Anything that happens to him, happens to them . . .
“Ivella!” Esme shouts as she and Roaner stand back to back over a corpse. “The rogues!”
She pays no attention to her; she is solely focused on disposing of this Warrior.
One wing draws backward and forcefully drives forward. A strong gust of wind from her wing flings his body backward and into a tree.
As I look around us, piles upon piles of ash lie on the ground from the bodies of the rogues.
Ivella moves nearer to him as he cripples on the ground, she kneels lower, her mouth just above his ear as he thrashes beneath the power holding his desiccating body to the ground.
Supplely, she speaks into his ear with death laced in her words. “You have lost.” And the final pieces of the Warrior that are left disintegrate.
I look up as we all see a red electric sphere slowly opening on the opponent’s end of the battle. It is a portal.
A man slowly appears behind it, his eyes are drawn wide as he stares down at the man suffering below Ivella. The longer I look at him, I recognize his face.
Dark skin, stark white hair, black eyes, and one crooked eyebrow.
Yaro.
And through the portal he stares at me.
Then, the portal shuts and he is gone.
Ivella stands over his body and grabs a gold ring from the ashes of the Warrior.
“What is that?” I ask.
“I do not know.”
There is a thin dark blue line through the middle of the ring and Stravan appears next to me examining the ring.
Ivella overlooks the ring next, and on the inside we see Yaro’s name written.
But not just Yaro, YARO, II.
That was not just some Warrior.
He was Yaro’s son.
