Consternation

I find myself living through a laundry list of disaster scenarios.

The wagon ride is relentless, shaking me around like an unwanted doll. It’s cold, musty and dark back here. To make matters worse, I'm privy to every word uttered by the spies – my charming abductors.

The conversation I’m getting an earful of is about as bizarre as it gets. They're discussing some sort of plan, about keeping me "secure" until we reach Barathrum. More security measures for their prized 'guest,' how delightful. I strain my ears further to catch snippets of the hushed conversation amongst the spies.

"By sunrise, we need to get him inside the castle," one of them says in a low, gruff voice.

"I was told that our client doesn't like to be kept waiting. We've been searching for this one long enough," another responds.

I can feel my heart pounding out of my chest.

Barathrum Castle? They're taking me back to that place? I really thought they’d forget me by now.

A heavy pit of dread sets in as I process what’s actually happening. I had finally escaped its walls, only to be dragged back.

"But what if he resists? He's got those pointy ears, who knows what he can do," the small voice chimes in.

"Don't worry, we've got special orders for that. Just get him to the castle," the gruff voice replies.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it feels like I've swallowed a rock.

Special orders? What do they mean? I don’t even wanna think about what’s waiting for me.

A slap on the wrist? I doubt it.

A severe punishment? Probably. I shudder at the thought.

The wagon rumbles on, and I'm left a jumbled mess, desperately trying to piece together my fate.

My thoughts drift back to Elara. She's probably still unconscious in that forest, all alone. She was just trying to help me, and now she's been left behind. I hate myself for letting danger in like that.

Guilt gnaws at me like a relentless rat.

✠ ✠ ✠

I must’ve been asleep for a century riding in that wagon.

I jolted awake to the sensation of my body being forcefully flung against one of the rough, unforgiving wooden walls of the recess in the wagon cart.

It's a total shock to my system.

I'm jarred from my thoughts as the spies, their faces still hidden beneath their hoods, begin to converse.

"There! The gate," one of them says, his voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction.

I can hear the scuffling of boots outside the wagon as they disembark. Panic courses through me; we've arrived at Barathrum Castle, and the dread I've been trying to suppress resurfaces with a vengeance.

The wagon's creaking door swings open, revealing the small spy who had spoken before. He bends down, peering at me.

It’s hard to tell how he feels since all I see are perfectly round dots for eyes gleaming right at me.

I meet his gaze with a stony silence, refusing to give them any satisfaction.

"Come over here, you…" He growls, reaching out to grab my arm.

I comply reluctantly, my limbs stiff from the long journey. As I’m carried out of the wagon, my eyes widen at the sight before me. Barathrum Castle looms like a gloomy giant, its towering walls casting a dark shadow over everything.

I never truly paid much attention to the outside of the castle until now.

Armed guards stand at attention, their menacing presence sending a chill down my spine. I recognize none of them, but I can't help but feel that my father's influence has extended to every corner of this place.

And cripes, there he is, standing tall with an expression that could curdle blood. His eyes bore into me, a mix of anger and disappointment. I've seen that look before, but this time, it's intensified.

"What have you done?" he seethes, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand judgments.

My heart sinks further as I realize that this ordeal is far from over, and the consequences for my actions are about to be revealed.

✠ ✠ ✠

My father stood at the head of what probably might’ve been the grandest chamber in all of Barathrum Castle. His presence cast a large shadow over the assembled council members and guards. His usually stern face was etched with such a fury that sent shivers down the spines of those in attendance, let alone me.

"Lucien..." The name was a venomous hiss on his lips as he turned his gaze upon me, his wayward son, who stood before him, my head hung low but my eyes were ablaze with defiance.

"You, who bear the name Brahmeus, a name steeped in honor and responsibility, have chosen to spit upon your heritage and run off into the wilderness like a frightened hare. You… Dare to defy me, your father, and the entirety of the Seraphic Council?"

The words stung, but they didn't deter me. Heh. I wasn't running away; I was running toward something, something that felt right for me.

I looked up slightly to see some of the council members shifting uncomfortably, but none dared to interrupt my father during his furious tirade.

"The council and I may have their plans, their ambitions," he continued, his voice now a seething whisper.

"But they mean nothing without the strength and power to see them through. It is our duty, our responsibility, to ensure the prosperity of our people in the new world. And you, my son, have chosen to forsake that duty."

"Responsibilities, Lucien, are the very essence of life!" My father raised his voice again, his voice now a fierce growl. "To run from them is to embrace the icy grip of death itself. Kyaniel and Nihilith have chosen you, specifically you, my son, to wield the untapped potential that flows through your veins. The boy with the gift of magic that could reshape our world, and you scurry away like a fool, like a coward, like a disgrace!"

“Is this truly what you want?” He asked, drawing nearer to me.

I gazed up at him, my father, and what followed was a moment so unexpected that it seemed to catch not only me but even his closest advisors by surprise.

A single tear welled in his eye and, against all odds, trickled down his cheek, betraying an emotion I had rarely witnessed in him.

“Leave us.” My father uttered softly.

Without hesitation, all those present in the chamber silently made their exit, leaving us alone.

✠ ✠ ✠

We stood there, in silence for a long time.

I could tell because there was a giant clock in the centre of one of the walls eating away at each second.

My father faced away from me until he turned and said to me something that would stir something in me.

"Do you believe that my words meant anything?" His raspy voice reverberated through the spacious room. I remained silent and watched as he began pacing the length of the hall, his eyes locked on me with a piercing intensity.

"Am I just talking for the sake of talking?" he wondered aloud. "Or am I speaking to someone else entirely? Or perhaps there is no other person listening, only me and your own selfish desires?"

I averted my gaze, feeling ashamed. "I am listening, father." I whispered in reply.

He paused mid pace. "Then why is it, when you hear what I say, do you still disobey me?"

I want to say how I feel, but I'm unsure if he's baiting me into saying the wrong thing. He's definitely giving me ample opportunity to defend myself, but somehow the notion doesn't sit right with me.

"I...am not afraid, Father. Of whatever you might have planned for me."

His face was unreadable, save for the faintest glimmer of amusement in his otherwise cold blue eyes.

"Oh but you are. Tell me, do you think your dear old father was your age at some point? Of course I was. I know exactly how you're feeling, because... I was you." He says, somewhat calmer.

"Maybe lashing out at you was not the best way to tell you that you are more capable than you think. If you would take care of yourself and listen to what I'm telling you to do, then perhaps you won’t be so far behind in becoming the man you were destined to be."

"Why should I listen to what you tell me to do?" I blurt out.

My father stared straight ahead into my eyes. "Lucien," he began, his voice trembling with a touch of vulnerability.

"I understand you feel conflicted, questioning our family's firm belief in our great Seraphic Council. But you must comprehend, my son, that we are part of something far greater than ourselves."

I hesitated, caught in the gravity of my father's words. He seized this moment of doubt and pressed on.

"Prophecies," he continued, his eyes locking onto mine. "They are not to be trifled with. They are threads woven by fate itself, and to deny their power is to court disaster."

I frowned, uncertainty evident in my expression. "But, Father, what if the prophecy is wrong?"

My father stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Lucien, have you ever wondered why the council and angels above place such importance on us? Why they, who watch over us, chose you to be the next leader?"

I hesitated again and my curiosity piqued. "I've wondered, yes."

My father leaned in, his voice a soft whisper. "It's because they see potential in you, my son. Potential to change the world, to guide humanity towards a brighter future."

My gaze wavered. "But what if I don't want that responsibility? What if I want to choose my own path?"

My father tightened his grip on my shoulder, his eyes burned with fervor. "Lucien, listen to me carefully. The prophecy is not just a path; it is our destiny. It is our duty to fulfill it, to lead humanity to an era of greatness, a new world, a new people… Free from any and all lesser souls. To deny it would be to deny who we are, our purpose."

My resistance waned, my father's conviction resonating within me. "But, Father, what if this destiny leads to suffering and pain?"

My father stroked his beard in thought; the room grew tense as he contemplated the question. He spoke to me with a chilling calmness, his eyes devoid of any compassion.

"Lucien," he began, his voice like ice. "You must understand that the world we live in is a canvas painted with the darkest shades of human nature. Suffering and pain, my son, are the brushes that shape this reality."

My eyes widened as I listened to my father's words, the implications sinking in.

"What we consider suffering, others see as a mere prelude to their own ambitions," Marcus continued, his words heavy with the weight of a ruthless reality. "In the council's eyes, suffering is but a means to an end, a tool to carve a path towards their vision of a 'better' world."

My stomach churned as I tried to process my father's desensitized outlook on suffering and pain.

"Death, bloodshed, and man made horrors, Lucien," my father said, pointing at me.

"These are the threads that weave the tapestry of power and control. To be desensitized to them is not weakness but strength, a strength that Kyaniel and Nihilith recognize as essential."

I struggled to come to terms with the cold, calculating perspective my father presented. It was a worldview without empathy, at least to those he despised.

It’s a really stark contrast to my own view on life.

"Remember, my son," He concluded, his voice a harsh whisper. "In this world, one must embrace the darkness to wield its power. It is a harsh truth, but it is the path to our destiny."

My heart grew heavy, my mind clouded with conflicting emotions. I was torn between the ideals I had held and the ruthless reality my father was unveiling. At that moment, I felt a strange feeling swelling inside.

My father then led me by the shoulder to the window, there I saw the world, outstretched for miles.

I saw the mesa Elara and I climbed earlier and that was all it took for my demeanor to shift.

"This world can be all yours, my son… Why would you want to run away from that?" My father's voice was filled with conviction, and his question hung in the air, heavy with implications.

I hesitated for a moment, torn between the ideals I had held and the stark reality that had been laid before me. But then, something inside me shifted. I felt a feeling I couldn’t quite describe.

"I want this world, Father," I said, my voice steady. "I want it all.”

And I want to find Elara, too.

“I'll embrace the council's doctrine, their vision for a better world. I'll become the force they need me to be."

My father's eyes gleamed with pride, and a rare smile graced his lips. It was a moment of acceptance, a turning point in my life. I had chosen to walk the path of darkness, not out of a lack of empathy, but out of a desire to shape the world into something better.

And in that moment, I felt a strange sense of unity with my father, as if we were both warriors in the same battle, fighting for a shared purpose.