Monarch (Part Two)

Siri’s gaze flicked toward the platform, her face pale. She’d lost too much already; they all had. And if Ash were here, chained and waiting for the executioner, she would risk everything to try to save him. Ed knew that, and it was why he had tried to convince them all not to come.The murmurs in the crowd rippled as the platform cleared, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Finn noticed a figure stepping onto the platform, escorted by Prowlers. She wore an elegant cloak of deep crimson, her movements graceful, almost gliding. The crowd fell quiet, shifting uncomfortably, and Finn saw why: Princess Thalia.The nobles bowed their heads as she passed, but the common folk stared, equal parts awe and fear in their eyes. She was striking, with delicate features, carrying herself with the poise of someone who knew the weight of her position. Her eyes swept over the masses, cold and unyielding, as if she saw each face but felt nothing for the people behind them.Finn’s hand clenched at his side. “Is she. . .?” he muttered to Lancer, who nodded grimly. The princess was a rare sight; her appearance meant that the king was nearby. Even after all these years, he had never once shown himself in public, but the people had long come to associate her presence with his looming shadow.Beside him, Siri’s gaze sharpened. “She looks different,” she murmured, watching as the princess came to a stop at the center of the platform. Finn knew what she meant. The princess’s features were unmistakably foreign.The air grew still, thick with tension, as the Prowlers formed an imposing line along the platform’s edge. Then, in a practiced wave, they dropped to one knee, facing the crowd in deference, their heads lowered.Siri held her breath. She knew what this meant- the king was coming.Sure enough, Lancer tugged on Siri’s sleeve. “Behind you!”The air itself seemed to darken, the weight of expectation pressing down on everyone in the square. People shifted uncomfortably, glancing around as if hoping to catch sight of the king himself. But there was no sign of him, no hint of where he might be. Just an overwhelming presence, a sense of fear that settled in everyone’s bones.Far down the main thoroughfare, a procession of armored soldiers and Prowlers emerged, forming a disciplined line on either side. They marched in perfect unison in front of a chariot. The chariot itself was a stark black, lacquered, and polished to an unnatural shine. It was as if the shadows clung to it, casting it in an unnatural gloom even beneath the dim lights of the Sector square.Within the chariot, draped in thick curtains, a single figure sat obscured. The heavy velvet blocked any hint of who or what was inside, offering only a vague silhouette against the shadows within. No face, no movement. The unseen power was more intimidating than any show of strength could ever be."Who is he?" Siri whispered, her voice barely audible. She had heard stories, of course- they all had. The king was a ghost, a shadow, the unseen ruler who had never shown his face in public. Some said he was immortal, others that he was a being of pure power. The oldest tales claimed he had ruled for hundreds of years.Lancer shook his head. “Nobody knows,” he said softly. “Not even the nobles have seen his face. They say he’s never shown himself- not once.”Siri’s gaze was fixed on the chariot, fear in her eyes. “He doesn’t want to be seen,” she replied quietly. “Or maybe he’s something he doesn’t want us to see.”Ed, still watching from his high vantage point, felt the same oppressive dread settle over him. The silence of the crowd, the reverence even in the way the soldiers knelt- it was unmistakable.“Look at them,” Finn murmured, watching the expressions of those around him. “They’re terrified. All of them. And he doesn’t even have to show his face.” As the princess raised her hand, gesturing for the Prowlers to rise, Finn felt a cold certainty settle within him.They shared the same wound, the scar left by the recent attacks, the loss of their people, and the failure to save Iris and Max. Finn, his face drawn and shadowed, looked especially ragged. Ed knew how haunted he was, though the others rarely spoke of it. Their deaths weighed on him, as did the realization that they had been too late to save her. That they’d been too late too many times.What happened to Iris was not our fault, Lancer thought. It wasn´t her fault. The world is just that unfair. She fought and died. Max fought and died. We have to save Ash. Rescue the one person we can still save. He´s our responsibility. They were right after all. The king is god. He cannot be defeated. Siri muttered something under her breath, and her eyes widened. _“We were careless,”_ she said more than once, almost like a mantra. _“Just how many more have to die?”_The Monarch’s soldiers had already begun the proceedings, the crowd eerily silent as the first prisoner was forced to their knees. It was a show, meant to crush resistance before it took root, a warning to all who dared even think of rebellion.Ed forced himself to watch every single time another prisoner was pulled forward over the blood of the previous one. "This is hell. . . It’s always been this way, from the very beginning. The strong prey on the weak. It’s the simple truth," he said as four more were beheaded. "Iris and Max tried to be strong despite their weaknesses. She just wanted to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with us. And this is the result."But he was the one who saw it- a flash of movement in the shadows, just off the edge of the platform, barely visible among the rows of guards. His heart seized. The figure had dark hair and a slight build. The angle was wrong, the lighting poor, but for a moment, he was certain. It had to be Ash.The realization hit him like a lightning strike, and without a second thought, he turned and leaped from the parapet, landing silently on the rooftop below. He moved quickly using Arcane, weaving through the maze of buildings that surrounded the square, his mind racing. If Ash was here, if he was close enough to witness this horror, he had to reach him before it was too late. Before the Prowlers noticed him. They knew his face. As he cut through the alleys, a whisper rose in his mind, cold and unwavering. _Kill the Monarch. That’ll solve everything._ It was the same voice that had haunted him since the day Iris died, the same urge that simmered beneath his every thought.The crowd thickened as he drew closer to the edge of the square. He finally caught up with the figure, who was slipping into a side street away from the square. Ed slowed his pace, taking a breath to steady himself. As he got closer, the figure stopped and turned slightly, and Ed’s heart dropped. It was not Ash. The boy’s face was unfamiliar, a stranger whose worn expression was a mix of fear and confusion as he looked back at Ed. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but there was no spark of recognition, no sign that he was the friend they had lost.Relief and bitter disappointment flooded through his mind. Ash was not among the condemned, but it meant they still had no idea where he was- or if he was even alive.Ed turned away, blending back into the crowd with ease. He scanned the faces below. As the executions drew to a close, Ed found himself whispering a silent promise. We will end this, he vowed, his gaze fixed on the platform where the Monarch’s men carried out their grim duty. We will end him.

Back in their hideout, the weight of the day’s events sat heavily on the group. The hollow silence of the room pressed in as each of them brooded, their thoughts tangled with the images of the execution square, the faceless king in his chariot, and the princess’ unreadable expression. But for Ed, his mind was fixed on one thing alone- Ash. His gaze drifted to the cracked wall. If Ash wasn´t at the executions, there was only one place he could be. In the castle itself. Locked somewhere. Waiting. Hoping to be saved. Ed clenched his jaw, fists tight against his knees. _We’ll get him out,_ he promised himself, glancing at Lancer and Siri. The worry was there, an unspoken heaviness in the air, and it clung to each of them as they sat in uneasy silence.At that moment, the bell to the main door rang in front of them, shattering the quiet. They exchanged glances- no one had expected visitors or customers. Prowlers, once again. Ed rose slowly, hand hovering near the weapon at his waist, and approached the door with deliberate caution. He reached out slowly, gripping the door handle, and pulled it open. A girl stood in front of him, bruised and battered. Her face was filled with cuts and scrapes, her lip split and bleeding. Blood flowed from her right cheek. Her wet and tangled hair clung to her face awkwardly as raindrops rolled down her cheeks, tracing the grime and wounds. Her clothes were torn and soaked through, shredded down on one side where she had once lost her left arm and her leg, except the limbs were there. Flesh and bone, bruised and scarred, yet whole, as if they’d never been taken from her.The backside of her shirt was completely torn, revealing the dark and muddy skin underneath. She limped, standing up with great difficulty, and stood grabbing her shoulder, effectively covering the parts of her chest that would otherwise be visible through the narrow cuts. She smiled ever so slightly up at Ed, who merely stood there, eyes widened. "Miss me?" Iris said, her voice rasping from exhaustion.She swayed and all emotion vanished from her face. Before Ed could reach her, she lost consciousness and collapsed into his arms. He bent and grabbed her lightly before she hit the ground. Still in disbelief, he turned around and called to the others who were seated inside, speaking over the heavy downpour. "It´s Iris. . . she´s back."