A Sublime Echo

Chapter 1- Torturous Truth

"Kyre, let me heal the prisoner and put him back, you are summoned." My older brother Rhydian, heir to the throne, say's flatly looking only at my eyes, trying not to look at the prisoner. The prisoner's moans eventually draw his eyes down, and I see anger and disgust aimed at me. My brother, future king, and healer. He stalks in, grabs the prisoner and takes the pain as he heals him before I can even blink an eye. He is one of the best healers, even with iron so close, but even he couldn't heal Her. "You know I hate coming down here. Please brother." He walks away, as I get up to follow.

"Will the King and Queen not be offended by my appearance, brother?"

He turns around, fury in his eyes, "our parents have come to realize that they will take you any way you will come, as you no longer care about anything anyway. So shut the fuck up, and follow me," he hisses, narrowing his eyes and turns to leave.

As I follow Rhydian through the corridors, I can feel the tension rolling off of him. I certainly hope this is not one of my parent's attempts to intervene and talk be back to whom they wish I was again. Twice already they have tried, and after each time I needed to distance myself, to calm my rage. I know that they worry. They should worry. I hide the extent as much as I can; parents shouldn't have to know certain things about their son.

Once, after one of these talks that I just- goddess be damned-know is about to happen, I decided to take up with pirates. As if my brother can read my thoughts, because he is a healer and does have some empathic abilities, says, "We both know, you know what is about to happen. Don't even think about going back to Asrais or one of his ships after this."

"Asrais and his crew are not bad, and they never asked me any questions," I shrug as I try to appear calm. "Plus, if memory serves me well, I was able to convince them to not attack our ships and ports, and focus on our enemies, in exchange for safe passage." My brother makes a dismissive snort. I notice as we walk, that instead of going to the throne room, with all of its dark blues, and silver adorning everything, that we are headed to the living area. "Where are we going?"

"Their private chambers."

"Changing up tactics, I see. Rhydian," I say in all seriousness, "you know I don't want them to suffer like this." I look down; I am ashamed at how much suffering I cause them. "They need to give up on me."

Rhydian refuses to look at me when he says, "I would never give up if it were Breen, or Ildrie, and I will not fault them for trying, even this long after."

I sigh, and ready myself; I do not want to react in anger towards them. I look at the wall, the smooth dark grey blue stone walls, slight flecks of crystals trapped in the stone, reflecting the light coming in through to windows.

We stop at the heavy wooden double doors, Rhydian knocks, and I ready myself for a third attempt. The time I went with Ezry to the Earth Realm to collect an item, I heard they believe the third time is usually the last time and works when the other two times failed. Third times a charm, three strikes your are out. Though I am not sure if that means three strikes to the head and you are unconscious or not, I certainly wouldn't need three strikes, one strike from me to most humans would probably suffice. I don't understand many of the human's sayings, though I used to talk to the ones that were brought here more often.

"Come in," I hear in my father's deep voice.

I step in and see quite the reception. Near the large bed, draped in dark blues, with cut white flowers on the bed stand is my father. His long brown hair tied behind him, lighter than mine, with his blue eyes the same shade as my brothers staring back at me. He is my height and dressed in his hunting leathers, perhaps ready to hunt me down and drag me back this time. My mother, sitting in a chair near the fireplace, looks to my father, and then to me. Her hair, pinned up, just barely darker than my own, her copper brown eyes on me, tears already there. She tries to keep a calm face, she is proud and doesn't want to show weakness. I don't want to see her like this. She, who always wears gowns, even if at times they are inappropriate for outdoors, is dressed in a tunic and riding pants. I never see her dressed like this, unless she is by my side at a battle.