Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Chapter 32 A Resurgence

They were not prepared.

James had no trouble repeating this phrase and allowing it to dictate what he did that day. He remembers back to when he was first starting as a knight, making powerful allies and bitter enemies, both on the battlefield and in the courts. Becoming stronger, possibly the most powerful swordsmen of his generation with very few rivals. A prince known for running into the battle recklessly instead of sitting far away and leading his army, as one would expect of his general. Being in the fray, not where he is supposed to be. Then, something miraculous happened as a result. He had drawn the attention of powers even beyond the mortal imagination. Beyond mortal magic, beyond mortality. And he embraced that power, believing it would save his nation from a threat he foresaw, and sought to destroy with an unrelenting vigor.

Now he looks back at what is left of him as he traversed the deeper halls of the castle where few men walked. He is alone. He lost his lover and his only child in that struggle. His friends are dying off one after another. The evil he sought to destroy has been reborn a new, and perhaps even more dangerous than before. The power he once wielded has scarred him, crippled his ability even with the sword. And had taken away almost every relative, making him the sad punctuation of a legacy spanning generation. His heart had become so shattered that any will to rekindle love or heart to have another son isn't really an option to him. It would be a disservice to the hole that woman left in his heart. He has failed as a king. Nothing was better when he put on his crown; they just hid themselves to give him his false sense of security. The peace he garnered with Torlak. The pressure that the Frostlands posed in the north. All of it was meaningless.

He promised Wilbur that he would be the greatest king. Before meeting him, he actually considered allowing his sister to take his place. But then, Wilbur rekindled some deep ambition lying dormant inside of him. And he intended on keeping that promise. He may not be able to do much now, but he can at least open doors to those who will come and save his empire. That is why he was here, standing in front of a blank stone wall. It was to reclaim what he'd thought lost but has returned. Celia has already chosen her path; it was his time to do the same. He took out a box, the one that sat under the floor planks of his bedroom. The power of the gods is likened to a siren in his ear this close. But he was more than willed enough to move forward. He opened the box up, allowing a pale orange light to spill out like a small torch. He took a deep breath, the light warming his skin like sunlight. After looking around, trying to sense if there was anyone nearby, he looked to the blank wall and spoke in a small voice.

"The mountains have laid upon the ocean. The fields have buried the skies."

Immediately, there was a small shifting sound, like metal and stone sliding against one another. He watched as lines of white roibegan to appear on the surface of this stone wall, geometric in their make. They formed a Torlakian sigil, a small spell, but one taught to every member at some point despite their aptitude to these arts. And where it led was far more important. For generations, godslayers have joined and congregated here for various purposes. Most often is to keep the influence of the gods away from the mortal world. Whether that be directly from Talin or other, more harmful sources, it was here before the castle, even buried in the mountain. This was the official birthplace of Theurgy as a guild, a sanctuary of knowledge and shelter while also housing many of the relics taken from Talin, be they of godly make. Before he lay a large chasm, the bottom of which received no light. A narrow bridge stretched across, suspended by chains and made from metal slabs that had no sign of rusting or damage. At the very end was a platform, two statues made from crystals in the make of lions. Their eyes were replaced by rubies and claws of a yellow Stone. He passed the guardians, patting the right one on the head fondly. The next chamber was a legacy room, statues lining each side. Numerous people he didn't know, few he was starkly familiar with. He paused once he got to the end, where his generation's statue lay. They simply appeared one day, sometime during the war. And from the perfect state of them all, they are magical in nature. And the room never seemed to run out of room either. There was space, however, for more. Six more. He's sure this space did not exist last he entered this room. There were no statues, but he has no doubts they will appear as well. He stopped at the place of statue, depicting a woman looking beyond. Several glyphs were scrawled on its surface while the pendant of darkness was still lying within the glass casing. While most godslayers insisted on caring for the pendant personally, including him, others didn't have a chance to make that decision. Others took their pendant to their graves.