Chapter 5 - Reborn Amidst Tears

"Ueu, nu neu, uuu ueueu nananenunuuuuu... Zip zap zip zip zapuzapu... Pueeeeeeeeee—oh. Who's calling me now?" murmured Igorus' brother to himself. He had been writing several scrolls in his office when his personal sphere vibrated in his pocket, signaling that someone was trying to contact him. Dressed simply in a wrinkled white shirt, brown trousers, and dark leather shoes, he was singing with carefree joy.

The office itself was artisan-like, its walls built from large gray bricks held together by mortar. He worked at a wooden desk upon which a single candle, no taller than fifteen centimeters, managed to illuminate the entire room. Behind him stood shelves of laboratory tools, mostly brown or chestnut in color: a wooden microscope, a telescope, petri dishes, lenses, small knives for cutting samples, slides, microtomes, and more. To the side lay solutions, macroelements, microelements, vitamins, enzymes, all manner of substances stored in glass vessels. On the left of his desk rested a printing press, reminiscent of a 20th-century model, though its keys were crafted from wood instead of iron.

Igorus' brother drew the sphere from his brown coat and saw his brother's face, visibly irritated.

"Oh, damn..." he muttered, pressing the sphere to grant his brother access to speak.

"Can I know WHERE THE HELL YOU WERE TODAY?" shouted Igorus, his voice overflowing with fury.

"Uhm... congratulations? Heheh," his brother replied awkwardly.

"You can congratulate me after you tell me what the hell you were doing that kept you from the ceremony today, Kaies," Igorus continued, his voice sharp and unrelenting.

"You know how busy I am with work. In fact, I was on my way there, but Stravna told me I needed to edit a scroll from the officer, uh, what was his name again..." Kaies tapped his temple lightly with two fingers, as though trying to jog his memory.

"Gavles?" Igorus suggested, his tone dismissive.

"Yes! Gavles! He asked me—"

"They were both at the ceremony. Stravna and Officer Gavles," Igorus cut him off, eyeing his brother with growing suspicion.

"Oh!? Really? What a coincidence... Yes," Kaies replied, but the lie was written all over him, plain to Igorus' eyes.

"Ehhh... Tell me the truth, Kaies. Why weren't you at the ceremony an hour ago? Did you have unfinished business? Something more important than the birth of your nephew?" Igorus pressed, his tone now calmer but heavier, like a weight bearing down.

"I completely forgot I was supposed to be there at... uh, 15 I think, for the ceremony—"

"Two o'clock," Igorus interrupted, correcting his brother with an angry scowl.

"Yes, 14, but on my way there I saw something, or someone, that caught my interest," Kaies replied.

"Something or someone?" Igorus asked, confused.

"When will you be free today?" Kaies asked.

"At 16 we're supposed to be at the cleansing grounds, and at 18 I need to finish some paperwork. Hmm... 20 o'clock? Shall we meet at 20?" Igorus suggested.

"Alright, 20 it is then," Kaies agreed.

"I hope this won't be a waste of time," said Igorus.

"I promise it won't be," Kaies assured him.

"You're certain?" Igorus pressed, unwilling to let go of his doubts.

"Yes, absolutely certain it won't be a waste of time," Kaies answered, forcing a strained smile under the weight of his own unease.

"Alright then. Actually, I need to head out around 20 to see if I can buy a shirt or maybe a basket for my boy. Come along with me," said Igorus.

"Of course. I've got nothing better to do than search for your son's underwear with you," replied Kaies, scribbling something across the parchments on his desk.

"Funny words coming from the one who mixed up his own underwear with Dad's. Anyway, I'm off now. Talk later," said Igorus.

"Hey, wait! That's not true! Those were—" But Igorus' face had already vanished from Kaies' sphere.

"Damn it. 'Come with me at this hour, debedebe... Heeehhhh...'" Kaies muttered to himself, mocking his brother in a tone of ridicule.

"That's done for now. Let's see if there's a parchment left down here," he murmured as he finished the corrections on the parchments piled on his desk.

He reached down to the wooden basket by his feet, where the soldiers', captains', and commanders' parchments were gathered. As he sifted through the discarded sheets, his hand brushed against something unusual, something that carried the chill of metal amidst the paper.

"Hm?! What's this?" he muttered to himself as he pulled the mysterious object out from between the parchments.

He drew it out and saw that it was a most unusual key. At its end glowed a crimson stone, faintly shimmering with red light. The shaft was carved from chestnut-colored metal, inscribed with verses, or perhaps words in an ancient language. At the tip, just beneath the body of the key, were eleven small rods of the same material and color, each engraved with numbers arranged in a strict numerical order.

"How strange... What is this? And how did it end up here?" Kaies wondered aloud, staring at the stone as though hypnotized by its glow. The room gradually filled with a dim red light, mingling with the shadows that lingered there, shadows born from both the lack of illumination and the secrets the chamber seemed to keep. On a small dresser across from Kaies' desk, a single feather, Oriel's lost feather, rested in silence.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Igorus shut off his sphere and set it down upon a table in his own home.

"What a nuisance. That side of him drives me insane," Igorus muttered, clearly annoyed.

"You can't change your loved ones so easily, Igorus. Kaies has always been that way. Even at our wedding he showed up late. I'm sure you remember," said Kaeda, her voice carrying a gentle tone.

"I also remember how he nearly spilled every drink when he arrived, since he couldn't control his wings when landing at the monastery gates. He even swept up all the guards with him. You couldn't cause such chaos even if you planned it," Igorus said with a faint smile at the memory.

"You see? Even if you don't want to, no matter how embarrassing someone's actions may be, they define their character, and the warmth they leave behind in your memories. You live in the same kingdom, so he can come visit Voidanos whenever he wishes. It's hardly a great problem," Kaeda replied with a smile.

"I can't argue with you there. I suppose you're off duty today?" asked Igorus as he walked down the corridor of the house to don his work armor.

"Three days off," she said.

"I see. Rest today, my love. You'll find all the ingredients ready in the kitchen for your sisters to cook with," said Igorus, now fully dressed in his armor: a copper breastplate engraved with falcons locked in combat, a black coat beneath it, dark pauldrons, chestnut-colored leather boots and greaves, and a copper gorget at his neck. At last, he was ready to leave for work.

"You're on cleaning duty today?" Kaeda asked.

"Yes. I'll see you later, my love," said Igorus, turning his face toward his wife with a smile. She was holding little Voidanos in her arms, the child fast asleep.

"Alright, dearest. See you later..."

Her words lingered in his mind, along with that smiling face, one that seemed to absorb all the warmth of her voice. But now, there was only cold.

It was 16:15 o'clock, nearly two hours since he had left his home, and Igorus stood in a ruined village beyond the borders of Tamasi, somewhere in the southeast of their nation. The village was engulfed in flames while soldiers piled the bodies of its inhabitants into heaps.

The creatures were anthropomorphic, nearly two and a half meters tall, with large bat-like ears, green-scaled skin, and long, predatory faces lined with sharp teeth. Their filthy, tattered sweaters hung in dull, faded colors. Igorus watched the corpses in silence, lost in thought, observing how the body, dead or alive, retained the same posture.

"The fifth Dor'Bagore village we've wiped out in the past three days. They multiply like rabbits across the Hromas Kingdom, the filthy beasts," muttered a commander beside him, directing his words at Igorus.

"Commander Gridiff," Igorus said, turning his eyes toward the man.

"Congratulations on your son," said the commander as he approached the general.

The commander, with long dark hair, black eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and thick brows, wore a black cloak draped behind him. His armor gleamed in copper tones, pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves, and he carried his black helmet under one arm. His uniform resembled that of the general, though their helmets differed, and on the front of the commander's breastplate, only a single falcon was engraved at its center.

"Thank you," replied Igorus in a calm tone, his gaze fixed once more on the bodies of the Dor'Bagore lying just two or three meters from his feet.

"A truly sorrowful sight," the commander said, staring at the same scene as the general.

"My soldiers reported their numbers in this settlement. Around one hundred and forty, perhaps one hundred and fifty," the general answered.

"And still they cause great trouble for this kingdom. This was supposed to be the angels' duty, but their minds are occupied only with birth ceremonies and baptisms. We're the ones left to deal with death, to clean up the filth they should have purged," the commander said, his voice edged with disdain toward the angels.

Igorus lifted his eyes from the corpses for a moment. He saw a Dor'Bagor child weeping bitterly over the lifeless body of his mother.

"Kuskaaaa! Chuancha Eng'vga sahanch'chruktt? (Mama, why did you leave me?)" the child cried in anguish.

"Shut up, damn brat!" one of the soldiers barked, yanking the child harshly by the ear and dragging him away from his mother.

"It's supposed to make you feel something, when you see things like this, or so they say," remarked Commander Gridiff.

"Hm?" Igorus responded.

"Everyone wants to live their own way, no matter how primitive it might seem. But it's in our hands to decide who lives and who doesn't. That makes us the true judges. In their eyes, we are the monsters. To humans, we're heroes. It all depends on perspective. Even your son, General."

Igorus' eyes widened at the mention of his son, reacting with a flicker of curiosity, and perhaps unease, at the commander's words.

"Some believe he will be our hope. Others think he will be our end. But that rests in the hands of fate," said the commander, casting a sidelong glance at Igorus.

The two exchanged looks in a manner heavy with tension, staring each other down as though locked in a quiet duel, antagonizing one another without a single word more.

"But I'm quite certain it will be the former. I can hardly wait to end the hypocrisy of those white-feathered liars," the commander added, before turning away and heading toward his personal tent. "We'll speak later, General," he said as he disappeared into the shadows within.

Igorus turned his eyes back to the bodies. He opened the palm of his right hand. Through the black leather of his glove, a dense mass of flame formed and surged outward toward the corpses. One by one, he set them ablaze before his own eyes, the fire's glow and rising smoke colliding with the chill he felt inside as he carried out his duty, like a god of fire...

Two hours earlier, within the royal palace of the angels, the guardians sent under the king's command had rushed into a chamber where screams and cries echoed.

"Saint Simonaela..." whispered one of them, stunned by the tragedy that met his eyes.

Kaela, her eyes red and swollen from weeping, stared at the soldiers in utter despair. Veins traced her sclera like rivers of blood, born of her grief. All of the soldiers froze in shock at the sight before them, Oriel's severed head, laid upon a platter.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR? CALL THE KING!" shouted the servant Lazrael at the guardians with urgent command.

"Y-Yes, sir!" they stammered, rushing off toward the throne room.

"Where is Tarnael?" whispered Eliael to himself, broken and shaken. Kaela turned her eyes toward her brother, as though she wanted to say something, but instead...

"I know where he went," she said, rising from her chair as her wings unfurled.

"What are you doing?" Eliael asked, his confusion tangled with grief.

But Kaela gave him no answer. She spread her white wings wide and darted out of the chamber in haste. She halted just beyond the door before veering right, flying swiftly down the corridor toward the throne room. The hall was lined with golden icons, urns gilded in fine metal, carpets woven of the rarest fabrics, and sculptures resting in the corners of the walls.

The soldiers, arriving in haste, flung open the doors to the throne room, only to stop dead in their tracks.

A pool of blood lay at their feet. Its trail stretched forward, winding a single path toward the throne, like the spoor a hunter follows to track his prey. And there the trail ended, in the lifeless body of King Augustel. His chest was cleaved open by a massive wound, his vacant eyes staring into nothingness, and his long silver hair matted with the murderous crimson of his blood.

The soldiers were speechless, paralyzed by the weight of what they had just witnessed. Two unprecedented tragedies, one after the other, it was far too much to grasp.

Then their eyes lifted toward the throne. And there sat Tarnael, draped in the dark fur he wore, a mantle that now stood as a testament to the power he had seized in his hands.

Kaela arrived at the scene, her breath stopping short at the sight before her.

"Father... Father... FATHER!!!" she screamed, flying toward his broken body. She reached him, but Augustel was already too far beyond her grasp.

"Impossible... How dare you... HOW DARE YOU, TARNAEL!?" Kaela shrieked, her voice quaking with rage, grief, fear, and betrayal, her eyes locked in fury on Tarnael, who only gazed back at her with cold disdain, as though she were something lesser.

"What have I done?" He scoffed, crossing his legs as his hands rested confidently upon the arms of the throne. "Hmph! I've saved the world." His eyes swept over the soldiers with a new, commanding authority, reborn into something far greater than he had ever been before.