The King Trials 2: Beyond.

~Destiny Fulfilled~

When we return, the remainder of our convoy trudges through the primary entrance of the castle. I do not even remember the ride here. All I did was watch the holy white sky fade, its pureness corrupted, roiled into a churning dark swirl of forebode.

Once we make it to the front foyer, the Adons and several attendants await us. The other Adon steps forward, the one that had a business relationship with Solaris's Regnum. He reassures us that he will have one of his ships transport Solaris's body ahead of us and take him home to Regnum Cain in Erindor when dawn comes. I force myself to watch the soldier who has been carrying him, Bartholomew. His fur coat is veiled over his face, taking him to the mortuary with one of the attendants as his guide.

"I demand to speak with your military tribunal." His balled fists twitching at his sides, ready to crush any sign of resistance. "To the ones that sent us to be slaughtered!"

Guards posted on the rims foresee an escalation. They begin to advance.

Rolin approaches him cautiously. "We were appraised. The tribunal had no knowledge—"

"That the Ulris was waiting for us!" 

He lunges and seizes Rolin's collar, yanking him closer. He snaps his fist back, ready to pummel him. Guards swiftly intervene, capturing both arms, wresting him under control as they heave him away. At some point, I must have lost all hearing because the Adons are gesticulating wildly and the Herems mouths are moving so fast. But I do not hear a sound. An uproar of muted havoc. Markiveus lurches forward, but he too is imprisoned by a guard's lock. The other guards level their swords warningly at Brennon and Treyton who grudgingly lift their hands to align with their heads.

I stumble away from them, one hand tightly clenched. Immortal anguish opens a gaping emptiness inside of me, a sorrow of unknowable depths, a wound that will never heal. A beefy hand clamps down on my shoulder—it jolts me awake. Dazedly, I turn to face him. The Adon that knew Solaris.

"I am not fond of many. Not even those around me." His eyes gesture to the rest of the Adons dispersing. "But Solaris's spirit is like a precious jewel. Rare. He was good. Good beings die but death cannot kill their names."

He continues with a litany of eulogies before what he says next snatches my attention.

"This must be so difficult for you. I did not realise that you were her—" his eyes dart to my hair, "—until you declared your Regnum. Solaris acted as the liaison between me and his father. A few cycles ago he was sent here to redraft our business agreement. But his return home was delayed several days because of a blizzard that obstructed the roads to the harbour. So I entertained his company, and that is when he told me of two half-sisters in Regnum Valwa."

Hesitantly, I meet his gaze. They eddy with both remorse and regret.

"But there was one that he spoke of more intimately than the other. He was a confident one, but lacked courage where it mattered most. His entire being ignited when he mentioned her, what I recall is that he said that she has unique eyes."

Seliah. "Hybrid eyes," I croak out, clearing my throat. I say, "My sister's one eye is light, and the other is dark."

He shakes his head whilst stroking his beard. "No. He said her eyes were a...plethora of wonder. The colours changed based on her mood; I know there is a term for it but it eludes me."

A force of a blade impales my chest, boring into me. Dread seizes my breath. My heart plummeting from a thousand feet.

"Twilight eyes," I murmur.

"Yes, that—"

I spin around. I bring my clenched hand to my mouth. Greer tails after me from a distance, the sounds of her pursuit, pitter patting behind me. When I reach my bedchamber, its unwelcoming, cold, the hearth lifeless. She aids me, stripping off the armour, and unlacing the corset to leave only the long-sleeved blouse.

"You may go."

Greer gawks at me, bewildered. "Hera—"

"Go," I say with deadly calm. "And do not return."

She bows and takes off like a scurrying mare. Once she leaves. With one hand, I latch on to an armchair, swinging it ferociously before I hurt it at the door and it explodes on impact. Fragments of splintered wood scatter on the floor.

I hobble to the bedside table. Mustering strength, I raise my clenched hand and unlock. I stare at the turquoise stone in my palm, stained with his blood, blood I spilled. Something pent-up rises within me, stuck in my throat like a lump. It expands, throbbing, clawing its way out of me.

My hand begins to tremble. I set the stone down, retreating from it immediately. My hands plough through my dishevelled tresses. Obliterating agony tears and rips through me. Overcome by the throes of grief.

Light flashes from the window, lightning sunders the skies.

I let it go.

I release a bloodcurdling roar. A raging fire bursts into life in the hearth. The roar ascends to a skull-rattling scream and the fire furies into an inferno blazing up the chimney, a thick shaft of flames. My back hits the stone wall and I sink to the ground. My tortured cries reduce to whimpering. The fire succumbs, its flames diminishing into a waning blaze.

Tears flood my face; small blobs of snot constantly dripping. I bring my legs to my chest and my forehead presses into my knees. And then I feel them. My daggers. My head slowly raises as the comprehension of what must be done descends upon me.

Aurora. Do not do it. Solaris is exactly where he needs to. He is free, and he is at peace.

I wince. "So was it predestined for his fate to be sealed by own hand? What cruelty is that?"

The reason for all that is done, and all that I allow. One day you will come to realise that. Solaris fulfilled his destiny. You are still to fulfil your own.

"And what destiny is that, Omnipresent?" I blast to my feet, pacing feverishly. "The destiny to be this damned Sagetai. Well you are going to have to find someone else. Go choose another, many fortunes to you because the only one that was ever worthy was Solaris!"

The one who is worthy is the one I already chose.

"You chose wrongly!" The fire flares, pulsing with matched rage. I mop my face with my hands, wiping the snot above my upper lip with the blouse's sleeve. "You doomed us all because I am not capable of saving. But there is one thing I can do to ensure that the Sagetai does no harm further." Resolve settles within me. "My death will save all. Prophecy fulfilled." I unsheathe a dagger. I clutch both hands on the grip and I aim the tip at my heart. The point threatening to pierce my skin.

The door swings open, crashing against the side, the hinges nearly fly off. Primus Kelan stands frenzied in the doorway with his eyes fastening on the dagger. He bolts forward, unhindered by the debris. Before he can stop me, I shoot it up and ram it towards my heart—Kelan's hands engulf both of mine. The tip; a hair's breadth from my chest. We grapple for hold of the dagger, tugging it between him and I. He overpowers me and catches the dagger, flinging it across the room. It hits the wall and clatters on the ground with an ear-splitting shrill.

"Let go of me!" I screech.

"Never." He grips my wrists, shaking me violently, forcing me to meet his gaze. "What are you doing?" His voice nearly ruptures through the ceiling. "What were you thinking!"

"You should have let me do it!" I break free, pulverising his chest with ceaseless jabs. "You should have let me die! Now others will! If I live, others will die!"

Kelan thwarts my sloppy efforts, enveloping me in a bone-crushing embrace. I try to push him away, flailing and floundering, but his iron grip prevails. I do not deserve comfort, not for a cataclysm that I single-handedly caused. I persist to writhe, rejecting his warm solace that I do not deserve.

"It was not your doing," he whispers gruffly. "We were under attack—"

"But it was I who killed him!"

Deprived of strength, no more fight left in me. I sag against him, weeping in his chest. Unravelled. Kelan's grip only tightens, the only thing that keeps from falling apart completely. He brings us down to the floor as I lay numb between his legs, caged in his steel-like arms. My head rested on his chest.

What have I done?