Magika [Completed]

Chapter 26

Wylerra 100 years ago...

Aldeheid watched the blood roll off his body to join the growing pool on the floor. Waves of pain crested and crashed through his body, penetrating his haze of semi consciousness. He swayed gently from the chains anchored in the ceiling like a freshly slaughtered animal.

His skin tingled from gooseflesh and his breath came out in soft white puffs. The stale air enveloped his body in a frigid embrace, and each intake of it made icy needles dance in his lungs. All of which was made worse when a torrent of water drenched him from head to toe.

"Get up."

Aldeheid lifted his head to meet the piercing black gaze of the dungeon master. While he stood many heads shorter than Aldeheid, and had average, unassuming features, there was something about him that made everyone give him a wide berth. Perhaps it was because he spent all of his time in the dungeon -- even when there were no prisoners.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen," the dungeon master said. He paced in front of Aldeheid, twirling a long metal pole tipped with a branding iron. "One day, destined for greatness, the other, destined for death."

Aldeheid had nothing to say to him. And even if he did, his throat was too raw for words.

A knock sounded on the door, and he winced at the sound. Every day since he'd attacked the king that knock came. Every day, following that knock a masked guard came in with a flail and a whip. Every day his body was pummeled until he could barely breathe. Then he was given the bare minimum of medicinal care. Just enough to keep alive and aware to repeat the cycle.

But this day was different. This day as he rose he head, he was met with the stony face and immaculate garb of his King. Baldavin looked quite out of place in the dank, dingy cell, like a diamond in a pile of coal. Bandages peeked out from beneath the sleeve of his coat, from where his hand had been reattached.

The Queen followed closely behind, her eyes widening at the sight of Aldeheid. She tried to run to him but Baldavin caught her bicep and wrenched her back.

Aldeheid's whole body tensed with rage, and he strained against his bonds, even though no measure of his strength break them. He rubbed his wrist raw twice trying to break free, but the magical reinforcements made that feat impossible.

"What a disgrace," Baldavin said to his cape. "That you would run to this criminal, to the person who tried to kill your magician, your king. You're all an embarrassment. And you, Aldeheid." He looked up at the person in question, the heat in his gaze making the air waver. "You're the biggest one of them all. All of this." He made a grand gesture. "Could've been yours, were you not so weak."

Aldeheid breathed a laugh. "If having all of this means following in your footsteps, then I'd rather die a traitor. You're a monster. And my only regret is that I won't be around for the day when everyone turns their backs on you."

Thunder rang through his ears as the king backhanded him. "Wylerra deserves so much better than you."

A moment of silence passed between them before he took the branding iron from the dungeon master. He rapped it against the ground, and it ignited with unnatural red flames, becoming white hot in a matter of seconds. "You are no longer my Sahn Cera. You are no longer Wylerran, and this..." He waved the red hot iron in front of Aldeheid's face. "...will make sure you never forget it."

Aldeheid's stomach sank, but he kept his face neutral. The last thing he wanted was to give the King the pleasure of seeing him squirm.

"Iyari, my dear." Baldavin held out the branding iron. "Why don't you do the honours? Strip this criminal of his relevance. Brand him so that those who find his dead body will know that he is a treasonous traitor. And that he doesn't deserve a proper burial."

Iyari looked at her magician with wide, pleading eyes and hugged herself. "Please don't—"

He took her hand and placed the branding iron in it before pushing her forward. "Do not keep me waiting."

"It's okay," Aldeheid told her, holding back tears. For all his years he'd looked up to his Queen, admired her strength, her cool composure in the face of adversity. To see her like this, broken and quivering in fear was heart-breaking.

But that was Baldavin's specialty, wasn't it? Breaking people, beating them down until they were just a pile of emotions.

Iyari nodded to him and tightened her grip on the branding iron. As their eyes met, Aldeheid could see her regret, her hopelessness.

He thought that after the many beatings, he would've lost his ability to scream. But as the hot metal was pressed against his cheek, a bellow rose from the pit of his stomach, loud enough to shake the walls.