Rune Mage [Fantasy/Adventure | Book 1 +2 | Complete]

Chapter 95: Mother

Seiren leant heavily against the wall, sweat dripping down her face. The green rune wore off. At least her wounds had stopped bleeding and her cramping muscles eased. She tried to summon chaos magic, but she couldn't detect her own ebb and flow. Her heartbeat was too loud, her attention too fried. Loren had never told her if chaos magic -- celestial magic -- could be used on herself. Given Kommora's comment about it permanently eating up magic reserve, Seiren wouldn't be surprised if it couldn't.

With trembling fingers, she unfolded the crumpled paper from her pockets and sketched some basic runes. She was in no state to fight. Her magic reserve was in her boots, her thoughts barely coherent. She regretted recklessly firing the remains of her reserve into the wall, but that was in the past now. Her pockets were barren. Half a piece of chalk and a handful of rune paper lay between her and her mother, who Jarsdel had said waited ahead.

Seiren stumbled on, the ground turning from smooth stone to plush carpets. Sun had set, the last traces of orange light fading through the tall windows. A sprawling private garden could be seen through the glass, the topiary carefully designed and the grass neatly trimmed. Paintings decorated the walls with age-old events. There were no guards, no mages, no servants around. The entire inner palace was silent, the air still.

She could only move forward, her mind barely functioning and her legs threatening to collapse with every step. Every set of double wooden doors was shut on her left. One particularly grand set of doors, half-open, caught her attention. Opposite that, the outer doors faced the path winding through the garden. The remaining corridor stretched on, a mirror image of the path whence she'd come.

Easing out a shuddering breath, Seiren sketched a red rune with a shaking hand and ambled over, hoping her legs wouldn't collapse prematurely. She edged through the gilded doors. The room inside was bathed in the same crystalline, ethereal glow as the hall of declarations where she'd sworn allegiance to the kingdom less than a year ago. Pillars lined the side. A thick, scarlet carpet ran from beneath her feet to the end where a set of steps led up to the throne. Behind the throne were the statues of the previous eight Miracle kings and queens, dressed in their sweeping royal gowns. This was the throne room, where the king held private audience.

Standing before the chair, looking up at it, was King Pollin. He stood eerily still, like a statue.

Tiptoeing behind the nearest pillar, Seiren then crouched and angled her red rune at him. She only had the element of surprise on her side now. Once he was knocked out, perhaps she could use him as collateral to bargain with her mother to stop their plans. They must have kept King Pollin for an important reason, or they would have killed him long ago and just taken over.

She snapped her fingers. The energy erupted from the outlet and shot straight at Pollin, hitting him square between the shoulders. It was a weak attack; Seiren had barely any reserve to spare to infuse into the rune. And yet he came crashing down like a sack of rocks without so much as a cry.

Straightening up and confused, Seiren hurried over, her hand held up to her mouth. The stench became more noticeable now: a distinct, nose-curling, bile-inducing, sweet scent that made her gag. It only grew stronger as she approached the fallen king.

She knelt down and peeled back his hood. Acid burned up her gullet and she turned to her side and vomited.

Dead. He was dead. Putrid. His flesh almost melted back and bone could be seen. Seiren couldn't bear a second look, scrabbling away and heaving all the while. He was long dead. God knows how long -- weeks? Months? She coughed, eyes watering and swallowing another gag. Every breath still reeked of that scent. She leant against the pillar, absorbing the cool surface onto her hot forehead, shuddering. Pollin was dead.