Foreboding

Content Warning: Brief mention of blood

The lone soldier from Umaraq rushed towards Ishkhandar. He had been riding through the wilderness for three days, stopping only briefly to let himself and his steed rest. His face was smeared with soot and his hands had the remnants of dried blood. As he approached the walled city with the cerulean dome, the knots in his chest loosened. He saw the border guards at the city gates raise their weapons.

“Open the gates!” the soldier shouted in Heliglossan. “I must deliver a message to His Majesty the King!”

The border guards saw that the soldier wore the helmet and uniform of the Western Region. They lowered their weapons and complied with his commands.

***

King Xenon sat stiffly upon his throne, chin resting on his hand. His world-weary eyes looked down at the ragged soldier kneeling on the marble floor. Lord Oganesson stood by the king’s left side, trying to maintain a neutral expression.

“Your Majesty,” the soldier said, eyes downcast. “Our forces at Umaraq were defeated. The Southern Region’s soldiers destroyed everything in their path. My commander ordered me to escape to deliver this message of warning. I am not sure if anyone else survived.”

Lord Oganesson shifted his eyes to the side and saw the king furrow his brow ever so slightly. The king’s advisor clasped his hands behind his back, and stared at the painted phoenixes on the ceiling. The king was putting on a veneer of calmness at the moment, but he could tell that there was a storm brewing underneath.

King Xenon exhaled quietly. “Thank you for your bravery and swiftness.” he said to the soldier. “You may be dismissed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” The soldier stood up and bowed. He exited the throne room.

King Xenon raised his fingers to his temples. He could feel a headache coming on.

“Your Majesty?” said Lord Oganesson. “Are you all right?”

The king glanced at him and shook his head. “It is nothing. I just need some air.” He stood up. “Come, walk with me.” He descended the steps of the dais and stepped onto the marble tiles. Lord Oganesson trailed after him. They walked across the throne room, and the guards stationed at the doors bowed their heads as the two exited.

***

King Xenon and Lord Oganesson strolled through the outdoor corridor running alongside the gardens, although the king did not stop to admire the flora. He simply stared blankly as he traversed the shadows cast by the columns. Turning a corner, he found a door and opened it. The two entered, letting the door shut quietly behind them. They walked slowly down a long, dimly lit corridor.

“Your Majesty, the Southern Region’s forces have already captured all the cities near the southeastern border,” said Lord Oganesson. “They will be heading northward toward us soon.”

King Xenon said nothing. As they traversed the length of the corridor, their footsteps echoed into the shadows. When they reached the end, the king unlocked the door to a private chamber. He entered, and his advisor followed.

The chamber was just as dim as the corridor, with only a few torches flickering on the wall. He walked alongside the wall, running his hands over the mosaic tiles. When he reached the center, he held his hand up higher and looked up.

“They are finally coming for us, my dear queen,” he murmured.

The torch flames flickered again, illuminating the mosaic mural of the late Queen Selenia. Although her image was constructed of disparate colored tiles, there was an uncanny haunting quality to it. The king ran his hand over the reddish brown tiles that comprised her long, wavy hair. Her gold leaf irises and obsidian pupils gazed down at him. Her smile was warm yet solemn.

“Your M-,” Lord Oganesson began. He paused, feeling that he should not interrupt this moment. The king turned around and looked at him.

“There are neither guards nor attendants here,” the king said. “You can drop the formalities.”

“Of course. I’m sorry, it’s just an ingrained habit.” Lord Oganesson cast his eyes downward. “Perhaps you wish to have a moment alone with the queen? I can step outside.”

King Xenon approached his advisor. When they stood only inches apart, the top of Lord Oganesson’s doppi hat was at the level of the king’s shoulder. Lord Oganesson kept his gaze on the floor.

“Izel,” the king said gently. Lord Oganesson looked up. “You do not need to step outside. Please stay.” He reached his hand out and caressed his advisor’s face.

“Xenon,” Lord Oganesson murmured.

The king smiled warmly and embraced him. “I fear our days are numbered.”