On the first day I carried my pride of being the Prince of Panthos on my shoulders as a sign for all to see. Liras said it was not a sigil to be thrust in the faces of those that owed me their allegiance. Instead, he had told me to show humility, to earn my throne. I laughed at him, though I was only a young boy. It had not occurred to me that Panthos was truly no more, not at the time. I wanted to rebuild the country in my own image. But, the oscura had different plans. I was gripped by fear almost immediately. It was so dark! I waved my hand in front of my face, but could scarce feel the air that moved behind it, much less see anything. It smelled of damp stone, of decaying roots and dead things. I walked slowly, hands straight out in front of me, trying to feel for any oncoming walls. Panic crept its way up my spine. Every fiber of me screamed to run back to the stairs, but no, I would not be defeated so easily. “I am Kareth,” I told myself over and again. In my chanting, I almost missed the whispers behind me, the scurrying of footsteps. It was a hushed sound, like it came from a different room, but it was so very close.
I froze.
It was all I could do to control my pounding heart, to slow my breathing. Liras had told me about fear, but it was the first time I had really, truly felt it. Relentless it stood, a paralyzing fear that threatened to destroy everything that I knew, everything that I was. There was the voice then, a hiss of words as frightening as anything I had ever heard.
“It blinds you, boy.” It came from behind me, but when I turned it seemed to move around me. “The world fears the darkness, boy, but not the Sieltacor. You must become one with it.” The voice moved as if it flew through the air. I turned again and again, yet could never place where it was coming from.
“Any man may fight in the light, but few can harness the shadows and survive.” And then he was in front of me; a man, cloaked and hooded. A candle had appeared in cupped hands just in front of his chest. Light flickered over his pale face. His cloak was as old and threadbare as the first man’s, but he was taller and broader around the chest. The candlelight danced over the bone tattoos that slithered across his face. My breath caught at the sight of him. “Guard your bones, boy, for naught here is your friend.” His dark eyes looked me over. “Follow me, s’pose you’ll do.”
He led me through dark hallways and narrow passages, some so tight that the man had to turn sideways to fight through them. We went down some steps, then up some more. We turned right, then left, then right again. I was so turned around by the time we reached the large candlelit chamber that I could not have left even if I had wanted to. There was an eerie drum of music coming from the far end of the room, some odd instrument being plucked by a novice musician. The candles were placed at eye level nearly three paces apart the entire way down the chamber. It took me a moment to realize the oddities that the candles were staked on, but after closer inspection there was no doubting that bones were the foundation, human bones.
I looked down at the floor, it was the same story. Bones were used as mortar, as filler, as trimmings. I took a deep breath and followed the man to the far end of the room. Shadows of men, or perhaps even children, were languorously placed on the floor and near the walls. Though none of their faces could be seen, hoods turned and I could feel their eyes boring into me as I walked. The man was perched on a large chair, dwarfed by the monstrous black table that he sat behind, at least it looked black. It was some kind of dark ash, I knew, but I was no scholar on the various types of woods that grew on the Isles. The wonders of the Isles were known throughout the world and no doubt this wood was as rare as their fabled steel.
On the table sat mountains of books, parchments, and scrolls, and the small man had his nose buried in one particularly large leather bound tome. My guide stopped short of the table and simply stood there staring straight ahead at the wall. Neither made any movements, and I found my courage crawling back. Liras had warned me about the ruthlessness of the shadows, but I thought it an empty assumption. The Uthari survived for almost a century without a member present in the shadows. I could not see why they were feared so. Bones and pain; I had experienced much and more pain, and death was a way of life on the Isles, so bones were never in shortage.
Perhaps I was simply emboldened by hearing Liras say that I was ready. Even Varo had agreed that fighting me was no longer easy. There I was, a stripling lad trading blades with two of the best curved swordsman in the world. And then, not a fortnight later I stood in darkness with a portly gentleman in a beggars robe as we waited for a short, bookish man to finish reading his story.
“I doubt the Keeper of the Moon would adorn making a prince wait…” I spoke with impunity. The large man turned his head slowly to peer at me, though I was unable to see his face under his hood.
“Hold your tongue boy. You will be spoken to in time.” The soft hiss was nothing more than a whisper, but I still felt a chill.
“I have already spoken to the oscura, my friend. Doubtless he has told you who I am.” I turned to the man behind the table. “I am unawares of by what name such a gentle, bookish man like yourself goes, but I doubt that it is accentuated by sire.” I stressed the last word and stood defiantly, chest out, chin raised.
The guide turned to me once more. I can only imagine that he was staring at me incredulously, but he was cut off by the small man slamming the large book shut.
“That will be all, Alris.” With a nod, and against what I am certain he wished to do to me, the guide turned and left. The small man looked me over for a long moment. “I must admit, it is rare for royalty to grace this quiet hall…” He rose slowly from the wooden chair, as if the effort spent was almost more than he could muster. “Come, walk with me.”
He motioned for me to follow. “It takes a moment for the eyes to adjust once we leave the chamber, so stay near.” I fell in behind him. He was right; my eyes began to fail me almost immediately. I had to rely on the scuff of his feet and the wisp of his robe as it drug on the floor. “Have you ever heard the story about the man with a thousand faces?”
Stories were not a large part of my training, though my mother had told me a few here and there. “No.” When I spoke it became harder to tell where the small man was located.
“It is a legend few on the Isles are aware of, I am afraid. The man of a thousand faces was no more than a merchant sailor, but what we appear to be is by no means what we are. It is said that he sailed the world in search of a secret, one known by everyone, and no one.” I imagined him smiling wickedly at this point, though I was greeted only by darkness. We descended down stairs, through narrow passageways, but as always I could see only black. “Peace, aye, peace was the secret. Not so easy a task, as the history of the world shows us time and again, but it made no matter. The man was determined. He sailed from the Trypt, around the continent to the north and back to the Isles. All the while he searched for an answer, anything to show that the world was not entirely evil. Some even say that he found new worlds across the sea, most so different from our way of life that those he told labeled him a liar.” The man stopped suddenly and I nearly ran into him. His voice had changed, as if he was now staring right at me. “Man can control only two things in this world, his word and his actions. It is when the two do not match that a man is truly lost.”
I stared off into the blackness waiting for a sound.
“Some may say that the man lied, but the truth is that he was one of the few that truly lived. Man always fears what he does not understand, and these simple souls could not comprehend sailing into nothingness and returning with stories unheard.” I was greeted by the scrape of his feet once more. I fell in behind him. “In his travels, he would win the favor of friend and foe with one of his thousand faces. It was the control of these different faces that allowed him to survive for so long. On Ayes he mastered the stone face, in Ovum the face of water, in Marwyn the face of triumph. Every place he visited he mastered their face. Some faces were similar to others, but each were different in their own ways. Though…through all his travels, he was unable to find the secret he sought after for so very long.”
“Fascinating…Where are we going, I wonder?” Aggravated I was by this story meant for no other reason than to distract me.
The small man continued as if I had not said a word. “Across the sea the man found new faces, ones that have been slumbering for thousands of years. It would seem that there is a great deal of history missing from his voyages, but most attribute that to errors of human recording.” I heard myself sigh as he continued. “But he returned, he did, and time it seems had passed him by. Everyone he had known before he set off across the sea was dead. All that was left was unfamiliar towns with unfamiliar faces. Peace still escaped him. It was nearly a thousand years ago that he landed on the marches of Bondary, though the Vint did not possess the power then that it does now. A king of old whose name escapes me did not like his tales. He would not abide a man filling the simple heads of servants and field boys with stories of a better life abroad. No, he tried to destroy the man. He tried, but failed, for the man of a thousand faces had learned many a things in his travels, and no man dare stop him, not even a king. He slipped away from the Vint through the shadows. Some say he died alone and in the dark, but others know the truth.”
The man stopped. I could feel his eyes on me as he circled around me and backed up slowly. I moved forward, and then heard the doors scream shut. It was a sharp hiss of metal on metal, and the crashing shut of a cell door was as familiar a sound as any. There I sat, locked up like a dog, but I would not be frightened by these cravens who hid in the darkness. I am the Prince of Panthos, I thought defiantly. “And what truth is that, my liege?”
I could feel his smile through the steel bars. “The man of a thousand faces was the first to learn the face of shadows, and thus the first to dance with the shadows. He does not take insolence lightly.”
“The oscura…” I whispered through sour breath.
“Welcome to the Sieltacor, boy.” And that was the last voice I heard for what seemed like months.
Darkness became my ally, my refuge. I woke in it, slept in it; ate in it. The world had dissipated into nothingness. All that mattered was my thoughts. Every day a gaoler would bring me bread and water at least once. Sometimes, for what I assumed was first light though I had no way of knowing, he would set a bowl of porridge through the slits and leave with a grunt. But, this was sporadic at best, not to mention rare. The first days I busied myself with exercises that Liras taught me. I planned to mark the hours by meals, but they did not come in any order. Every time a meal was brought I would attempt to speak to the gaoler, or whoever it was, but each time I was met with failure. I grew increasingly restless.
It must have been weeks before the dreams took over. There came a point that my boredom was matched only by my exhaustion. I began sleeping longer, and, before long, it was difficult to get up to eat my meals, if I took them at all. The bread was stale, the water was putrid, and I was ever greeted by what I could only imagine as rats and arachs. It was then that the thought occurred to me that I might die in that cell. It was as clear as day, but for so long I had not, or could not see it. I had long since ceased my attempts to speak with the gaoler. My only company was my increasingly paranoid thoughts. I ran my hands over my face and did not recognize what I felt. I had touched skulls before. Smooth yet grainy they were under my fingertips, but there was no mistaking the shape and hardness of the bones. That was what I felt when I touched my face. I was wasting away into nothing, and I could not even see it.
When I woke the following day, or hour, for there was no knowing for sure, what lay in front of me was almost unexplainable. I stared at it for a long moment, wondering what I was looking at. It was unlike what I had seen for the last…who knew how long? Then it occurred to me that it was something. Finally, I was able to see something. It took my mind a long moment to understand, but eventually I recognized it. A large black shadow stood in front of me, a pale ball with reflecting sockets rested on its…shoulders.
A man. I always heard the gaolers, but never had they carried a light. I was so confused by what was in front of me that I only remained silent and stared.
“Aren’t you a sight to see, boy.” Alris. Alris was his name. He let out a small chuckle and stepped closer to me. “The darkness numbs the wits, eh?”
“H…How long?” I managed to choke out. My throat was tight and parched; my lips were cracked and bleeding. When was the last time I had taken food or water? I remember thinking.
“Long enough, I see.” With a strong arm he pulled me up to my feet as if I weighed no more than a child. My legs refused to work, but it made no matter because the large man half carried and half dragged me to wherever we were headed.
It seemed to take us only minutes to reach the large chamber that I had been a guest of those days before the darkness had taken me. The room looked much the same as I remembered it, though it did seem brighter. I found myself scanning the sides of the chamber, my gaze returned by the whites of countless eyes. It was a sea of stares. I had never seen so many eyes. The large man named Alris dropped me to my knees suddenly. The strength had long left my body, but I managed to push myself to where I could see the large table in front of me.
“The body will always weaken. It will fail you. Everything in this world will fail you. You must learn to overcome these…restraints.” The voice was familiar enough. The small man opened his hands atop the large ash table and looked to Alris. “That will be all.”
The thick-chested guide left with a nod. I even found it difficult to turn my head and watch him go. “Anything that is shattered can be reformed, anything weakened made stronger. I apologize for the brashness of our process, but much and more can be learned from a person when they are taken out of their element, and thrust into darkness.”
“How long?” I said through the pain in my lips.
“It makes no matter. Time does not affect the Children of the Shadows, not here in the Sieltacor. Come, I will show you your duties.” The small man pulled himself up from the table, his fragile body shaking as he gathered his footing.
If he can walk, so can I. I followed his lead and braced myself on the table. It took everything that I had to pull myself to my feet. I stabilized one leg, and then the other. My legs shook and I knew that I would fall. I stumbled backwards and felt the ground approaching, but I never hit it. Two arms caught me under my shoulders. They were smaller than mine, but they were laced with strength that I could not hope to match. The arms lifted me up. My feet gathered under me and I caught myself on the table.
“It takes a moment for the strength to return,” the voice behind me said. It was soft and serene. I found myself staring at a girl no older than I. She brushed long, flowing hair out of her face and smiled at me quietly.
“Uh… Hi.” There I was, the Prince of Panthos, blubbering like a retarded sow. I blamed it on the previous bout of captivity.
The young girl nodded with a quaint smile and backed away quickly. I tried to call after her, but she disappeared into the darkness before I managed a sound. I looked back and noticed the small man all but vanishing down the dark hallway at the far end of the room. I moved my frail legs as fast as I could manage, but I could never seem to catch him. I yelled something, though the exact words escape me. Before I knew it I was dreadfully lost in the maze of dark hallways and pitch black rooms.
“Stop.” The word froze me in my tracks. It was quiet. I was not even sure if I had actually heard the sound or if it had manifested in my head. I stood there in the middle of the dark hallway, my heart beating out of my chest. I looked around into nothingness as fear began to mount its way up my spine.
“You have eyes, but you will never find your way with your eyes.” It came again, faster this time. I looked around again but was unable to discern anything through the black. I knew it was hopeless, I could not even see my hands in front of my face.
I then reached out and felt the stone walls around me. “You have hands, but you will never find your way with your hands.” I spun around quickly, trying to locate the voice. The walls seemed to close in on me. I felt myself shrinking, grasping at the smooth stone walls as the floor seemed to slip out from under me. I settled into a crouch and embraced the silence. I had used my ears to follow the small man once before, if I could concentrate once more I would be able to hear him again.
“You have ears, but you will never find your way with your ears.” The voice was becoming aggravating. I stood up defiantly and yelled as loud as my lungs would allow. I cursed and flayed and threatened. My throat ached and my lungs burned by the time I finished. I found it hard to breathe as I slumped to the ground.
“You have a voice, but you will never find your way with your voice.” I wanted to smash down the walls. I wanted to destroy everything in my way and feel my hands around the pint-sized man’s throat, assuming it was his voice, though part of me did not believe it mattered. I was all rage and anger and ferocity. “You have a mind, but you must harness it in order to find me.”
“What do you want from me?” I bellowed into the darkness.
There was no answer.
I sunk to the ground and leaned against the stone wall. I ran my fingers across the bones etched in the mortar. Some might call it cowardly, to sulk in the dark, but then those people have never experienced a complete and total darkness like that of the Sieltacor. It flooded anything and everything. It seeped into your soul. It ate at your sanity.
The walls were tight and threatening. I could hear nothing, smell nothing; see nothing. I know not how long I sat there, but it was long enough for me to fall in and out of a restless sleep that proved to bring me closer to exhaustion. It was then that a voice brought me back, though it was not the same as the previous. This one was softer, sweeter.
“You are the chosen one, my prince. You are meant for greatness.” It floated through the darkness and surrounded me. I felt an embrace. It seemed to pull me from my slumber. I stood up and peered into the nothingness.
“Who are you?” I asked to no one, not really expecting an answer.
“A Child of the Shadows, as you are meant to be. It is not a matter of your strength or toughness, not in this place. Forget all that you know. Forget your family, forget your name, and most importantly, forget yourself. You must walk away from all of these things.”
I shook my head and caught myself laughing. “Walk away from what, my wonderful life as the Prince of Panthos? Or perhaps I should cast away this intriguing life of solitude. I must admit that the prospect of turning my back on all of this is unconscionable.”
There was no answer. Needless to say, I was not surprised. The darkness was enveloping, overwhelming even. I stepped forward but the walls remained around me.
I was trapped.
I felt like I was seven years old again down in that hole. The walls were dirt then, but they surrounded me nonetheless. My failure to prepare an exit for myself led me to the struggle of finding an alternate way out of the hole. After days of struggle, I was finally able to dig foot holes into the side of the walls and crawl out. Not an easy task, only an unnecessary one. This was different though. You cannot dig into stone, and there was nowhere to climb. I closed my eyes and felt around the walls for any type of exit. It took only seconds, for the space was small. It proved to be nothing more than stones, mortar, and bones. There was not a break or weak spot to exploit, and I could not help but feel a twang of despair.
“The walls are not what they appear.” I shook my head as the soft voice continued. “You live in a world riddled with rules and boundaries. Forget them, forget yourself.”
Easy enough, I thought. “And how would I go about doing that.”
“You alone know the answer. You alone must find the path.” It was the girl’s voice, young and simple, innocent and pure.
I sighed hopelessly. “I have no answers…I know no paths. I am a bastard prince lost and exiled. I came with naught but the clothes on my back.” I looked down at my torn and tattered garments, so soiled that they scarce resembled clothes. “Even those have forsaken me.”
“You are a bastard. You are exiled. You have nothing…and you have everything. This world is ripe for the taking. Open your mind, prince…open your heart.”
I did as the voice said, but still saw nothing. “It is too dark,” I responded with a frown.
“Your eyes are not your mind. Trust in your mind and you can control it.” Her voice seemed closer.
And then I saw her. It was as if she had suddenly appeared next to me in the small enclosed space. I remembered her from the chamber.
She was like a song that I had never heard, one that was stuck in my head regardless. I was taken aback by the simple intricacy of her. Her eyes were brown ovals set in a beautiful, heart-shaped face. She had a narrow nose and full lips that cocked to the right slightly in a quaint, coy smile. As I stared at her I am sure that I blushed, though there would have been no one to see it in the darkness.
“My lady,” I stammered as my heart nearly punched through my chest.
She tilted her head when she smiled. “I am Alyssa.”
“Kareth.”
“I know,” she laughed quietly. “The school has been absolutely buzzing about your arrival.” She leaned in close, her voice hushing to a whisper. “We are not permitted to speak with you… not yet anyways,” she said with a mischievous shrug.
“That explains the silent stares.” She looked at me curiously for a moment before stepping lightly around the small room.
Room? I looked around and realized that the space around me had grown significantly, as if I had moved the very walls that surrounded me. I looked around in awe when I heard her giggle.
“You are learning faster than the others.”
Learning what? I thought. “The room…it changed.”
She glanced around indifferently. “It is a room.”
I caught myself staring at her. She stepped lightly on her toes, her body lithe; her movements precise. She wore a grey gown that draped over her small frame. It matched her almost translucent skin and accentuated her auburn hair—at least I assumed it was auburn. I could have watched her forever.
“I am real, I promise you.” Her teeth shone brilliant as stars. I almost misplaced my tongue once again.
“Of course you are.” I took a step towards her. “How long have you been here?”
Alyssa cocked her head to the side as if in thought. “That is a curious question.” Her eyes returned to mine. “I suppose—” She stopped suddenly as if time itself had frozen. After a moment I noticed that I was holding my breath. Her head slowly turned to me. “I will see you soon, Kareth.”
And she was gone. I moved around the room searching for any sign of her exit, but once again I was greeted only by stone and mortar. “If this is a dream, it is by far the worst dream I have ever experienced,” I said to no one in particular.
I had not eaten in days and part of me ventured that the small man had left me to rot in that dank room. Death no longer feared me though, part of me found comfort in the solitude. I thought of the small man, of Alris, and of the multitude of eyes that had watched as I was dragged into the large chamber, but, most of all, I thought about Alyssa. About the way she moved, her voice; her eyes.
She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
The dawning of my thoughts almost knocked me off my feet. How could I have been so blind? I had seen her. I could see the walls. I could see the cracks in the mortar and the dust on the floor. It was different, as if the world had been shaded in grey, but I could see! I felt a warmth course through my veins. My mind bore focus and clarity that I had never experienced before. It was in that moment that the world folded upon itself. My eyes went blurry and darkness washed over me. I felt weightless, free, and then the darkness broke and I lost my stomach.
I coughed and hacked and spat. My head ached and the world spun through an onslaught of sound and movement. I felt like my heart would explode. I clutched my chest, and then I heard it like a wave of thunder washing over me.
“Welcome to the kitchen, boy.” His voice was like a knife through my skull, and it was followed by a wave of noise that was louder than anything I had ever heard. I threw my hands to my ears and fell forward to the ground. I cried out in agony, and though I cannot explain what it felt like, I can say that it was the first time I actually wished to be dead. I was told later that it was an elegance matched only by its anguish. But I learned one thing for certain; I will never forget the first time that I danced with the shadows.
Hey everyone, thank you so much for stopping by and checking out the story. I will be posting a new chapter every Tuesday and Friday until the entire novel is on Wattpad. However, I would like to let everyone know that The Lost Prince is on Amazon. I am giving the book away for free on here, but if you loved the novel and feel like purchasing a copy, or gifting it to someone else, I cannot express how honored I would be.