The Exiled King

At that broken whisper, Naghren’s eyes faded back to their usual cool tones and his grip on her throat loosened.

“Lirya…” He said softly, a tremor in his voice, “I’m sorry.”

She tried to rub her throat, but once again her hand slipped through herself.

“I-It’s fine,” She said shortly, “I’m glad you’re up.”

Jemery was right… about Naghren being dangerous, She thought, If he hadn’t stopped, I would have… Can I die again? As a ghost, you’d think you could only die once, but that feeling as he gripped me felt so real! Jemery wouldn’t warn me for no reason… it could be that Naghren does have the power to end the lives of ghosts… forever…

“Tell me this honestly, Naghren,” She cried, “Could you have killed me? Would you have killed me… if I hadn’t stopped you?!”

He lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes.

In a barely audible whisper, he muttered, “Yes…”

A cold, and numbing feeling spread through her, like ice in her veins. In little time at all, she had come to trust Naghren… but in trusting him, she had nearly gotten herself killed. How had she been so naive? She berated herself internally.

But… What should I do now? He is still my only hope of returning to Dargon, She thought, I want to go home…

“Can I really go home? Don’t lie to me… I want to trust you, but you’re not making it easy for me!” She sighed, looking right in his eyes.

His hesitation was visible in his eyes as he muttered, “You can leave. You’re an etherborn. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you yesterday… I just… wanted you to stay, even for a little while longer. I understand if you no longer want to remain here. I can send you back today, if you wish.”

His eyes were downcast and he did not hide his crestfallen expression. He hid his face in his hands and his hair slid down from his shoulders and hung, like a curtain, around his face.

“It’s your choice,” He said at last, “I will respect anything you choose.”

Lirya pondered silently, then replied, “I will stay here one more day. Then you send me back. I need some time to organise my thoughts. Also, you must tell me everything you know about what happens when I go back. What happens to my body?”

Naghren lay back, his arm still covering his eyes.

His lips moved slowly as he answered her question, “I’ve never witnessed it myself, but there is a poem that tells us what to expect.”

Naghren recited, “ ‘Phoenix born; Ascendant of a new dawn. Rise upon those ashes… oh ye Etherborn, bringer of a new morn.’”

“I believe that you will attain a new mortal body upon reaching Dargon,” He concluded, “A body stronger and more resilient than that of a human.”

He told her of all the knowledge he’d accumulated from the library and everything about the phenomenon of being etherborn and about the guardians.

The guardians were gifted powers by the archangel Seven serving Cassiel the First. Since then, the powers have been passed down the family—although it was not only the direct heir that could inherit, and distant cousins sometimes found themselves the heir to the gift. The gift decided who was worthy, and no bloodlines or fine breeding would change that.

Granted tremendous power in order to protect both the mortals on Dargon and the Key that was kept in their possession, the guardians quickly became renown heroes throughout the land. Each kingdom housed a crystal that served as the main source of a guardian’s power, and it was hidden well. With the destruction of Anhua, the guardian crystal vanished, but it was not destroyed.

“The guardian bloodline still lives,” Naghren said, “Even if the powers have laid dormant since the Demon War. They shall return some day, when the Gods will it.”

The Key that the guardians protected with their lives was a relic of untold power that myths claimed was the key to another, parallel world—the fifth, Sagar—although most people discarded those claims at the ramblings of lunatics too far into their cups. People on Dargon seldom believed that there were any worlds parallel to Dargon, preferring to close their hearts and minds off the possibility that their deceased loved ones went anywhere besides the heavenly realm to dwell with the gods. The fact remained, though, that monsters appeared on Dargon through portals, sighted numerous times, and that necromancers roamed the world occasionally—begging the question of where they came from. And yet, no one questioned the recurring number ‘five’ and its significance as a holy number. Often the necromancers exhibited little or no hostility to the mortals on Dargon and freely described Heresh, but the dark and frightening appearance of the necromancers elicited more rumours that quickly veiled the truth as it got twisted in a web of half-truths and lies.

The guardians were only truly tested when the demons invaded from the Abyss, causing a massive uproar and the eventual destruction of Anhua. The Key guard—the centremost pillar holding the guardians together—was first to fall. The blow was struck and one after another, the guardians fell, ‘til only one was left—the guardian of Gold, of Anhua, the ruined kingdom. Right until the bitter end, he carried the torch that passed on through the generations. He borrowed the key’s power and sealed the demons back in the Abyss, but the guardians were finished. When no successors appeared, people stopped talking about the guardians and they gradually faded in the backs of people's minds. They were heroes who never returned.

“Why are you telling me this?” Lirya asked, although a throbbing in her heart and cold, foreboding feeling deep within her told her more than words ever could…

Regardless, Naghren’s words sent a shiver down her spine, “You are a guardian.”

“No, t-that cannot be,” Lirya stuttered, “My father—Lord Rowan—never ever talked about the guardians. There’s no way we would have any connection to them!”

Naghren sighed, “Perhaps your father was not the bearer of the Gift—It could have been another relative from your family. If not his family, then perhaps your mother’s line was the one that passed on the guardian gifts. Regardless, it does not change that you are one of the guardians. What will you do with such knowledge? You could lay low—never speak of your gift again—and wait until the gift is inherited, or you can pave a new destiny. The kingdoms are restless now—a great turmoil lies within—and war is imminent,” His face grew pained, “I can feel it, as I always do when many spirits will join my realm and that of the Ether—a year before the Demon war struck, my soul trembled. A mere premonition of the death and destruction that followed. My kingdom had never seen so many new patrons. You understand, don’t you?”

Above a grim smile on her face were shadowed eyes.

“‘One cannot shirk responsibility’,” She quoted her mother, “I am bound, yet again, by shackles forced upon me.”

Her eyes moist, she said quietly, “I thought I could free myself from the chains binding me by running from my home—my cage. But I’ve found myself snared in another net instead. Tell me, am I allowed to regret? To wish this had never happened? Want to relive the past again?!”

For a brief moment, her world stopped. In a weak flicker of light, Lirya saw herself sitting within Throeyns castle, learning to embroider with her mother. A smile graced her mother’s beautiful features.

A crack, splintering. And the memory fell to pieces.

With an audible gasp, Lirya’s mind returned to the present.

W-What was that? Memory?

Well, it was my memory… but it's different from how I remember. Mother never smiled like that.

Not to me, anyways.

<--<< >>-->

The day of Lirya’s departure came all too soon.

Within the great hall of the palace, Naghren sat upon his throne. The hall was decked out in finery to herald the coming of his guest. Large magenta banners, golden chandeliers and sparkling silverware bathed the hall in bright light. A large table occupied the centre of the room, but only three places were set—leaving a wide gap between each of the places.

I hope that Lirya can meet him before she leaves… it would be great if both of my friends could meet each other. That way, he can look after her on Dargon—where I cannot set foot.

To think that I always wanted a friend, a companion… a sister, yet when she arrives she leaves just as suddenly?

“Oh, how cruel you are, Pelos, to take everything I love…” He lamented aloud, his voice echoing in the still chamber.

“You are gloomier than usual, Naghren. Tell me, what’s the occasion?” A voice interrupted him.

Naghren looked up, his face brightening slightly at the sight of his friend, in a travel-worn, ripped and tattered bloodstained cloak. The hood was drawn tightly over his head, but Naghren could recognise his voice immediately.

“You’re back!” He exclaimed, hopping off his throne and striding towards his friend.

His friend merely raised an eyebrow and replied, “Cussing out a god this early in the morning, Naag? You play a dangerous game. Not even Ziocrat could save you if Lord Pelos bothered to deal with your insignificant existence.”

Naghren brushed off his remarks and grumbled, “Don’t call me ‘Naag’.”

“You know as well as I do that calling me a ‘star’ is a spiteful joke,” He continued, bitterness lacing his voice.

“I’m sorry, old friend. It’s just been a while… a lot has happened, you know? I’m sure you feel it. I had an encounter with a few… unfriendly elves on Dargon—they left me a nasty wound,” His friend complained, “Trust me, I’m not doing that again soon!”

Ah… his presence comforts me. To hear a real voice besides my own.

His endless stream of chatter makes up for my lack—and likewise, this is the only place he can be true to himself. Death does not discriminate—nor do the death realms.

Naghren’s thoughts were interrupted when the large doors to the hall opened and Lirya’s head peeked in.

“Naghren,” She called, “I’m ready to go.”

Her curious eyes wandered over to Naghren’s friend, “I didn’t know you had company. Should I leave?”

Naghren’s friend turned around and two pairs of eyes widened.

“You?!” He muttered, his crimson eyes wide and mouth slack.

“‘You’?!” Lirya screeched, “You’re the reason why I’m here!! Take responsibility, you bastard!”

She hurled out a string of increasingly unladylike curses while glaring daggers at him. If looks could kill, he’d have been dead before he hit the floor. Clearly, while she had come to terms with her fate, she was not prepared to forgive Vesan for his role in sending her to Heresh.

Naghren, meanwhile, remained perplexed.

What in the name of Ziocrat is going on here? They know each other?

He voiced his confusion, breaking off an argument growing increasingly heated as both parties were at each other’s throats.

Vesan turned to Naghren and explained, “I got quite injured from the elves and stumbled upon her and her group of friends. I, uh, needed to heal-”

Naghren broke him off, disbelief lacing his voice, “You didn’t!”

“I did. I couldn’t help it,” Vesan mumbled.

Lirya yelled, pointing at Vesan, “He’s the reason I got sent here! This jerk ambushed me after I was kind enough to let him inside!”

Naghren muttered thoughtfully, “That aside, Ves, did you know she was etherborn? We had just been preparing to send her back when you arrived.”

“Etherborn?!” Vesan cried, “Her as well? Oh, just my luck, stumbling upon all those guardian brats! Naghren, she was travelling with two others with the guardian circlets.”

So, times are truly changing… like the shift in scent before rainfall, change is imminent. The new generation of guardians herald the coming of a new age—but the brewing storm bothers me. Something isn’t right.

Regardless, it is my duty to see that Lirya gets sent back to Dargon as soon as possible. She may be instrumental to the change upon Dargon.

Out loud, Naghren informed Lirya and Vesan that he would send her back to Dargon now.

Naghren summoned a ghost bearing a chalice of golden liquid, which he downed in one gulp. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the ghost and dropped the empty chalice, which vanished into smoke before it hit the floor.

He unfurled his wings and muttered the beginning of the spell. A green spell circle appeared around Lirya’s feet, startling her, but Naghren continued the spell and finished it with a final sentence.

“Seka aum enai umi tenum…”

Send her back to the overworld…

In a gleaming flash of brilliant gold light, Lirya’s spirit began to vanish. She waved and her mouth formed words although the magic stole the sound.

“I’ll come back someday. Please wait for me.”

<--<< >>-->

Radiant sunlight burst into appearance, blinding her. Lirya brought her hand up and blocked the light as her eyes adjusted from the gloomy Heresh to the impossibly bright spring day on Dargon.

Blinking back the tears in her eyes, Lirya squinted at the impossibly bright world around her.

She was back at last.