Two Hundred Years in Slavery is all the people of Xathania have known. Toiling and dying for a kingdom that has only snarled at them. Not until hope surfaces as a story in the wind and the flames of a spirit long forgotten resurfaces to face the g...
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Callahan was in temple of The Mother in the Great Sect of Welkamia.
He knew it well because he had been dragged there by his mother and then his sisters almost every other day before he became King. Traditionally, the Crown Prince of Welkamia was expected to know the laws of the Father and portray the strength of the Son. It was why Callahan had been trained and drilled like a solider and also a scholar.
Callahan walked through the sect and saw no other person which was odd considering the fact that the sect housed the orders of all the gods of Welkamia. He walked to the old library, skimming through the titles when a man stood before him.
They had similar features. Purple eyes, brown hair, skin like the sand of deserts of Saath. Callahan did not initiate conservation. The man before him leaned against the shelf and took him in. Callahan noticed a bit of disappointment in the man's stare.
'You are a taint to this line,' the man spoke. 'My sons were drunks and caused a war but when my youngest emerged as victor, he built Goxa and Welkamia on solid rock.'
Callahan said nothing.
'You had potential. Then, all of a sudden you began to have sympathy for those filth, married one of them even,' the man got off the shelf.
'If by sons you mean Edwin, Tyler and Nic, then you must be Gerald,' Callahan said at last.
The Old King smirked wickedly, 'What pains me is that you are too smart for your own good.'
'And you were dead a hundred years before my great grandmother was born. You hardly get to decide how I run my kingdom.'
'You have no kingdom,' the man mocked, an unholy stench filled the room.
Bastard.
Callahan took a step back, praying to the Father.
'Those gods cannot save you here and perhaps it is best that you learn that those are not the gods we served,' Gerald said through his teeth.
Callahan took another step back.
'When the plague took my daughter, when Welkamia suffered hardship,' his voice became out worldly, revealing what he truly was. A dead man. A spiteful one at that.
'You sold yourself to the King of Orcus I reckon?' Callahan raised a brow. The young King knew he was in danger even though he hid it. He still prayed for protection from any god that would listen.
'Plotas has been of more help than those wretched gods that those Xanthanians bow to,' Gerald snapped.
'And Plotas is King of Orcus?'
'I wouldn't be here if he was not.'
'So, who is Zebel?'
Callahan had spent a good amount of time with Samael after the incidence with Derrick, he and Reid had cornered the god and demanded answers. He had told them the truth of it or at least the part about the lies that were told about him. On Freya's command, the beast had reiterated his story. Callahan could not be sure if it was true but he knew that time would tell.
