The Exiled King

Chapter 20 - Awakening

The scar was somewhat faded, aged to a pale pink over an intense red—it had likely been a while since that scar had first appeared.

Immediately, the implications dawned on Haverik, who asked quietly, "Then... Do you resent me? For taking your powers... for leaving that burn?"

Jaron shook his head.

"Of course not! You are everything I could have hoped for in a successor. I always knew the time would come, when I would have to train a successor to inherit my power, though I had hoped that time might have come later—when times were less tough... less strained."

He continued, "I hope you will at least let me train you the best I can in the time we have left. I'll be straight with you—something big is coming... something terrible. I can sense it, like the dampness in the air before rain, or the dragonflies before a storm... and were any of my companions still in this realm, they'd report similar feelings."

The companions that Jaron spoke of were, of course, the other guardians. After the demon war, some fifty-odd years ago, all of the guardians vanished as if they had never existed. Jaron was the only one who survived, having fallen unconscious from a blow to the head and laid out cold for the remainder of the battle.

Galion cleared his throat loudly, his eyebrow arched, "It is nearing midnight, my lord. I shall take them back now. The new silver guardian must undergo the purification ceremony before you may begin his training. I do hope you will train the others as well, as you are the one with the most knowledge of guardian powers."

Jaron nodded, and Galion continued, "I will take them to the winter palace. I hope you will join the ceremony tomorrow."

The walk back to the city was swift and no one said anything. Passing through empty streets as the distant sound of drumbeats echoed through the listless night and bright lanterns lit the distant town square in a vibrant red hue, the group were led to the winter palace—this time on foot, not by the winter queen's teleportation magic. The magnificent structure rose up at the end of the city as the town buildings melted away and they entered a circular clearing paved with cobblestone. Sprawled in front of them was a massive, glistening tower of glazed, white-blue marble. It was tall and rose in pointed spires. Graceful columns lined the walkways connecting several wings to one another, creating a structure that looked impossibly delicate, yet stood firm.

A row of neatly dressed elves stood lined outside the door and bowed deeply when they neared.

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"I feel like we're being led around like cattle to the slaughter," Haverik complained, laying on his bed and gazing at Jason and Altein, who shared the room with him.

Their beds were lined up in a row with a comfortable amount of space between them. The room was sparsely lit and decorated in deep blue hues, but a massive window was above each of the beds—where sunlight would likely illuminate the room fully.

A loud snore from Altein's bed was the only indication that the dwarf, who had been lying still for the past few moments, had fallen asleep.

Jason chuckled and lay down on his own bed, pulling the covers up snuggly.

"I think it might be a good idea for us to get some rest. We're in foreign territory and they've been muttering stuff about a 'ceremony', you said, so maybe they're sacrificing us to their god or something," He said dryly.

Haverik sighed, but got up and extinguished the candles, rendering the room pitch black, before navigating back to his bed gracefully and sliding under the covers.