Darkness in Revelations

The room erupted into whispers, confusion and outrage spilling over what the Baron had just said.

“What is he saying?”

“Is he mad?”

“He dares say our King and Prince are wrong?”

The King’s brows drew together. “Baron. You are a dear friend of mine, and I cannot understand what compels you to even disrespect this ceremony. Explain yourself. Quickly.”

The Baron bowed, but there was no hesitation in his words when he rose. “Your Majesty, I cannot stand by and watch lies cement themselves as truth. This girl is not the Saintess you believe her to be. The true Saintess… is my dear Rosaria. Or rather…” His eyes shifted to me, his voice thunderous now. “The daughter you entrusted to me many years ago. The one I had to lie for so many years just to protect as you had asked me to.”

The world stopped.

Gasps and conflicted chatter filled the air. Everyone had questions, and only the Baron had the answers. The King froze, his hands trembling against the arms of his throne.

My chest felt like it had been frozen over in frost. The baron stood beside me, guiding me to my feet as we walked towards the throne. My legs felt like they were made of glass, brittle and trembling, as Baron Drewitt guided me.

“Prove it to them dear.,” he whispered when I reached him. His hand was steady on my shoulder. “Show them.”

The hall waited, every eye piercing into me. Historia’s gaze was the sharpest of all, her mask slipping for just a heartbeat, rage flashing across her features before her smile returned.

I raised my trembling hands, forcing myself to breathe. How would I even prove it, it I myself didn’t even know how I did it the first time? I was a stranger in this world, embodying someone with a similar name to mine.

“Please,” I whispered to no one but to myself. “Please work.” I took a breath, trying to remember that frightening time in the woods when Estel was being attacked, when I felt I would lose him yet again. I looked over at where Amanda and Sylvia sat, just staring at me in worry.

“Luz.” A blinding light bloomed in the cathedral.

It was a soft and warm gold, similar to how it was back at the woods. Once the glow dissipated, gasps rang out, and voices rose in disbelief.

The King stood, his eyes wide, his lips trembling. “Luz… Only a Saintess…” His gaze locked on me, sharp and tender all at once. “And her hair..”

I looked at him confused, but I saw that while the effects of Luz still lingered, my hair had gotten a slight silver tint to the tips. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to raise questions.

Chaos erupted. Nobles rose to their feet, shouting over one another. Some demanded an explanation, others in shock at how my power was stronger than Historia’s. Yet above the voices, one rang sharp and venomous.

“She cannot be your daughter.”

The Queen stood, walking over towards us. Her face was red and her eyes burned with fury. “She died in that carriage accident years ago. The Baron told us about the incident, your Majesty. This girl may well be an imposter they have set up to make our son look a fool. You would let a snake take root in this kingdom?”

Her words cracked across the chamber like a whip, but the King’s eyes narrowed. “And how is it, my Queen, that you speak with such confidence about my child’s death? You were not there when the carriage fell. Why do you claim to know?”

The Queen’s lips curled into something cold, but before she could speak, Baron Drewitt’s voice thundered again.

“Because she made it so.”

Baron Drewitt reached into his coat and withdrew a folded cloth, worn with age yet preserved carefully. He held it high for all to see. The crest stitched upon it glinted faintly under the candlelight. An intricate emblem I had never seen before, but Darren and the King instantly recognized it.

Murmurs rippled through them. “The Queen’s assassins…”

Baron Drewitt’s voice grew harder. “On the night we were to welcome home the infant Princess per the King’s order, we were ambushed. The assassins bore this crest. The crest of the assassins that attacked us are none other than her majesty's personal assassins! They came to ensure Rosaria would never reach safety. We barely survived, and I could not risk the young Princess’s safety..” His eyes cut toward the Queen, unflinching. “I have held this proof for years, waiting for the right moment. At times, I feared it would be best that we kept her a secret, seeing as my dear friend was finally moving on from the passing of our former queen and the alleged death I had made up. But things have changed. A fraud is attempting to pose as the next saintess, and has done nothing but bring mystery to the Kingdom’s princess!” His voice boomed in the chapel, and all remained silent, processing his words.

“And now, before the throne… to my dear friend… I reveal this information I held secret. Raising Rosaria as my own daughter, a daughter of the Drewitt family. She is indeed your only daughter, born from his majesty and the saintess all those years ago. The Saintess Amor had never forsaken the kingdom or her people!”

The King’s hand slammed against the armrest of his throne, the sound echoing like thunder. His face was carved with wrath as he looked at the queen. “Guards! Seize her!”

The Queen’s composure shattered as armored men surged forward. “Wait, my King!”

“Silence!” His roar rattled the very windows. “You dare attempt to murder my child, and deceive me for years? You dare bring false light to this kingdom?”

Darren surged forward, his face pale. “Father, please! There must be some mistake! Rosaria has never shown any kind of light power back at the academy. Besides, whose to say the Baron himself isn’t lying?”

The King’s glare turned upon him, sharp as steel. “Do not plead for her, Darren. You shame yourself standing beside a fraud and a liar.” he said looking at Historia. “You let your heart blind you to the truth. Do not test my patience unless you want to be punished as well.”

Darren faltered, his hands trembling at his sides, but his eyes shone with desperation. His lips moved as if to beg again, but no words came.

Beside him, Historia’s calm mask cracked. Her hand twitched at her side. I saw it, the gathering of mana, the same pulse I had felt back when she tried to erase my memory of her telling me about the timelines. The glow spread around her fingers, many curious to what she was trying to attempt, but concerned nonetheless. Her eyes fixed on the Queen’s capture. Time. She was trying to twist time itself, to make everyone in the cathedral forget what had been revealed with all the mana she was pulling around her.

“No!” I yelled, my voice breaking. I summoned my light, pushing it against hers.

Two forces collided. Her time-twisting and my Saintess power. They clashed in the air with a sound like glass shattering. The spells wove together, then recoiled, seeking release.

The Queen's scream echoed the cathedral as the guards yelled in fear, and many gasped in horror. The magic struck her body like a lash. Her form body frozen stiff, skin paling to an ashen grey, and then…like fine porcelain with a thousand cracks, she crumbled. Ash spilled from her like sand, and nothing but dust and her clothes remained upon the polished floor. Silence fell that even a breath could not be heard. And then a wail split the chamber.

“Mother!”

Darren dropped to his knees, clutching the empty space where she had stood. His cries were raw, torn from his chest. His hands clawed at the clothes and ashes, trembling and desperate to piece together what could never return.

“No… no, this cannot be…” His voice cracked, and then broke into a sob.

The floor trembled.The air warped, mana seething so thick it burned my lungs. Darkness seeped from Darren’s body. Black and writhing smoke that choked up anyone in its immediate peripheral. The nobles screamed, scrambling from their seats. Shadows poured outward, clawing out the shadows as their red vibrant eyes brought chaos.

The King’s face was drained of any color. “No… it cannot be…”

Darren’s body twisted with sickening cracks. His form expanded as scales erupted across his skin. Wings burst from his back, tearing the air with violent force. His scream deepened into a roar that shook the very chapel as he grew into something reptilian.

The ceiling crumbled at the force of it being pushed out. Stained glass shattered into a storm of color. The sacred paintings of Amor and Krono split as a massive claw ripped upward, tearing through stone and wood alike.

Before where Darren had been prior, stood the Black Dragon. The very same dragon that was mythed to destroy the world. The only question now was, where was the white dragon?

Everyone scattered, shrieking and trampling one another in a panicked frenzy. The Father of the chapel fell to his knees, frozen in terror as more shadows burst from the beast’s maw, spreading like fire on oil.

I couldn’t breathe. My body locked, frozen between awe and horror. And then movement…a blur of silver and white caught my eye. Estel.

“Rosaria!”

He rushed toward me, dragging me along. We moved away from immediate danger as Allen and Harry helped Baron Drewitt and the King move to a safer distance from the Black dragon. The demonic roar making anyone reach out to cover their ears from the corrupted whispers that invaded their minds. The whispers of hopelessness, of inevitable doom, and to sap one's hopes away.

The world became engulfed in chaos by the shadows of the Black Dragon.