Mythia: and the Awakened Beast Read online

  He wiped his face with his sleeve and stood straight up. He gently pulled Mythia to the king’s body. A crease formed between his eyes and he slowly lifted his free hand to Tribus’s clenched fist. Regulus carefully tugged his father’s hand open and pulled out a slip of parchment. He gave Mythia a quick squeeze before releasing her hand for just a moment to unravel the parchment, but he placed his hand back immediately in hers. He lifted the parchment to his eyes.

  Regulus read the note out loud with a tremor in his voice. “To my kingdom,” he cleared his throat and shuddered. “I am sorry. I have failed you as your guide, as your protector, as your king. I shall never be able to repay you for the sorrows and tribulations I have caused. I shall never be able to correct the wrong doings I have done to you. I shall never again be able to provide you with the security and leadership a monarch is meant to provide its kingdom… To my son,” Regulus paused for a moment, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “I have failed you more than anything else in this world. Just know that I love you and that I have always been proud of you. From the day I knighted you I knew you were destined to reign with a greatness without precedent. Always remember that I have never doubted you.” A tear slid down Regulus’s face. He swallowed again before reading on. “Regulus, you are to be crowned king immediately after my death. I have relinquished the queen of her title, although she is innocent, since you are the rightful heir to the throne of Terra. Once you are crowned, find the manuscript in my chambers titled ‘Pax’. Read it, memorize it, and hide it safely away. It is for your eyes only… You have always made me proud to call you my son. I am so, so, deeply sorry… King Tribus.”

  The sound of thumps upon the earth filled the space around them as the surrounding knights fell to their knees. They raised their swords high above them, glistening in the dark. A narrow stream of moonlight fell directly onto Regulus’s face, which was full of darkness.

  Sir Fort yelled into the silence of the woods. "The king is dead... long live the king!” The other voices followed in a great echo, their words tingling down Mythia’s spine as Regulus clutched the last letter his father would ever give him and held it tightly to his heart.

  The knights untied Tribus from the tree. Regulus unfastened his cloak and placed it over his father’s body, as the five knights carried the dead king. They walked slowly out of the forest and across the field. The guards at the gates opened their eyes wide and stepped to the side, allowing space for the procession. King Tribus’s body lay flat in the air, supported by the five knights, with Regulus and Mythia walking immediately behind them. The result of the battle bled out all around the city, dead soldiers, knights, and citizens of Terra strewn across the pathways. Those who survived stopped what they were doing and walked slowly over to their fallen king. The procession gradually grew more and more as citizens, Rejicio, and knights alike all joined the march toward the looming castle ahead.

  Regulus was clutching so tightly onto Mythia’s hand she was losing all feeling in her fingers. She glanced quickly behind them to find hundreds had silently joined in the march. She nudged Regulus in the shoulder with hers and nodded her head toward them. He glanced back and tears immediately filled his eyes. He clenched his jaw and faced his father again.

  It was midnight by the time they reached the castle. Bells chimed twelve times somewhere in the distance. The king’s body was laid gently upon the white stone table in the center of the courtyard. The entire city appeared to have awoken and filled the courtyard and the rolling hills surrounding the citadel. Regulus knelt at his father’s body, holding onto his cold hand, still clutching Mythia’s with his other. The people behind them knelt down from the front to the back, until the entire city was bent down on one knee. Somewhere in a nearby tree an owl hooted.

  A long time passed before Regulus stood back up. He heaved out a great sigh and let one last tear roll down his face. He glanced over at Mythia who would never leave his side again. He turned around to his people and bowed down to them, the first time that someone in his position had ever bowed first. They bent down on one knee in response, their faces alight with pride at their new king.

  The crowd slowly trickled away as night sunk more deeply. Mythia watched the people leave with solemn faces, searching through them, wondering which of her friends had survived the battle, and terrified to know the truth.

  “What is it?” Regulus asked, noticing her searching eyes.

  “The Doctrine… Titus…” she muttered. That was all she needed to say. He gave one last glance at his father, who appeared to be sleeping beneath the light blue cloak in the moonlight and pulled Mythia out from the courtyard. They walked through the citadel gates and made the short trip down to the Doctrine’s house. The front had been blown up to bits, the door no longer. The gaping hole was covered by a hanging tarp. Regulus hesitated for a second before knocking on the remaining stone wall six times.

  The impregnated pause was too long. Mythia started to feel herself sweat. She was about to suggest they go look through the piles of bodies, but then the corner of the tarp lifted.

  Sapphire blue eyes crinkled into a smile. He pulled Regulus and Mythia into his house and beamed at them. “Everyone is okay. They’re all here.” And all those she cared about, whose fate she was uncertain of, were indeed there. Sitting around the table with steaming mugs of tea in front of them. Titus, heavily bandaged and pale, but grinning widely with his white shimmering teeth, leaning against Ustrina who supported him with her arm. Krea; bubbly and ecstatic wrapped in the embrace of Zane, who smiled contentedly at them next to his brother, Miles, who held his mug up in respect. Ten sat a bit more solemnly but managed a half smile and a nod. Even Bello was there, untied with her own mug of tea, looking extremely aggravated and slightly out of it with a bandage wrapped around her head. Mythia breathed in a shaky breath and started to cry.

  Regulus looked at her with concern as she flat out sobbed, tears pooling onto the wooden floor, her body trembling, crying out with sounds of absolute despair. Every emotion she had been pushing back came exploding out of her. Ventus, dead. Hundreds of knights and soldiers, dead. The innocent civilians who were brave enough to join in the fight, dead. Bodies laying all over the beautiful hills of Trigonus. Her father, Lord Animus. Her mother, Irae. King Tribus… they had left this world completely and absolutely, but the imprints they left upon her would always be there. Forever.

  The Doctrine handed her a mug. Regulus let go of her hand and slipped his arm behind her, stopping her from falling apart, as she grabbed onto the mug of tea with both hands. The warmth felt good on her intertwining fingers which were stiff from the cold. She trembled one last time and took in a deep, gasping breath before having a sip of tea. The warmth filled her with more than liquid and she felt herself calm down, felt that everything had been drained from her enough to carry her on. For now. She smiled at the Doctrine. Smiled at the people crowding around the small table. Looked into the green eyes of Regulus. Her one true love. Her king.

  “Have you awakened them?” the Doctrine asked, glancing at her with something like defeat etched into his blue eyes.

  “All three of them are awake and now protect the kingdom,” Mythia replied. The Doctrine beamed at her.

  “The king is dead,” Regulus blurted out. Every single face turned to stare at him in silence.

  Titus pushed himself up to stand, using the table as a crutch. He grunted and his face paled even more from the effort, but his determination got him up on his feet. He leaned heavily on his left arm and slid out his sword with his right, raising it high into the air. One by one, Krea, Zane, Miles, and Ten did the same. Only Bello remained sitting.

  Titus held his sword firmly. “You have my allegiance, my king.”

  “You’ve always had mine,” Ustrina said, her radiant smile as stunning as her glowing blue eyes.

  “And mine,” Zane announced.

  “Mine as well,” Miles smiled.

  Krea glanced nervously down at Bello who peered back
at her, as though daring her to say anything. “I am grateful for my Rejicio family. For the hidden city that you’ve built to help keep us safe... But not everyone has a pure enough heart to rule a kingdom, Bello.” Then she looked straight at Regulus. “You have my allegiance, too.”

  Ten simply nodded his head and smiled.

  Bello rolled her eyes. She heaved a great sigh then pushed herself up, unwillingly. “Well, at the very least, you are better than your tyrant of a father.” There was a pause as they waited for Regulus to respond, to become angry, to yell back. But all he did was smile at the overwhelming support of not only his dear friends, but the Rejicio as well.

  ◆◆◆

  They all slept deeply on the kitchen wooden floor, in front of a warm fire. The Doctrine woke early to make breakfast for his guests and filled the small round table with piles of eggs, sausage, bacon, buttered toast, grapes, and of course, tea. Mythia could have sworn she woke up in a dream, wrapped securely in Regulus’s arms, her head resting on his strong chest. But then the pain of grief came flooding back into her and she knew she had awakened. Regulus breathed so deeply she thought he was still asleep, but one glance showed he lay awake, studying her from the corner of his eye. The sounds of the Rejicio recruits and Bello stirring from their slumber started to surround them, as the Doctrine woke them with the sounds and scents of cooking.

  Mythia wanted to lay like this forever. She inhaled deeply in his scent, and snuggled further into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He squeezed her tight. She was betrayed by the sound of grumbling as her empty stomach protested for food. Regulus immediately sat up.

  “Breakfast,” he demanded, peering into her eyes. He stood up and helped her rise, placing his hand back where it belonged, into hers. Everyone stretched and yawned as they all clamored to the table and began eating. The door of the guest bedroom swung open and Titus hobbled out, leaning heavily onto Ustrina who helped him sit at the table. The door to the Doctrine’s room suddenly opened as well, and out came Lord Pileus.

  Mythia gasped at the heavily bandaged stub where his left arm used to be. He looked back at her, surprised. “Mythia?” He asked carefully.

  “I’m sorry, Pileus!” she blurted out.

  “Ah, so you are back?” his face burst into a smile and he peered down at his stump. “And this? This is nothing compared to my life. I don’t blame you for any bit of it. I’m a survivor.” He winked.

  Relief suddenly washed over her. “Yes. Yes, you are. And I am so glad for that.” Lord Pileus marched across the kitchen as Mythia stood from the table and slipped her hand out of Regulus’s. She wrapped her arms around Pileus, happy to feel his body alive with the warmth and strength it should have for many more years to come. He patted her gingerly on the back.

  Regulus stood up and smacked Pileus on the shoulder, beaming happily at his best friend.

  The Doctrine and his extensive number of guests ate happily, savoring the type of strange peace that can only follow a battle. The atmosphere wasn’t subdued as it would be amongst the dead but sparkling with adrenaline and softened with the fact that they, at least for now, did not need to fight anymore. It was the type of peace with razor sharp edges, the kind that made them want to snatch at every opportunity and fill each second with passionate, pure, beautiful life to make up for all the death. Even though it was probably momentary, no matter how long or how short this peace might last, they soaked in every second.

  Once they had scraped every bit of food from their plates and gulped down the last drops of tea, Titus and Ustrina stood up. Titus smiled, slightly wobbling from the pain in his back as he placed a hand on Ustrina’s belly, which appeared to have grown. “My lovely wife is going to have a baby!” The kitchen was instantly filled with cheers and congratulations.

  Ustrina’s face glowed with happiness as Mythia took her hands. “That’s why I was sick,” she explained. She rubbed her own stomach in a circle and smiled down at her unborn child. “It’s a girl. I’ve already seen her in my dreams… I would like for you to name her.”

  Mythia didn’t have to think twice. “Ventus. Name her Ventus.”

  Ustrina nodded in agreement. “Ventus is a beautiful name.”

  “She was a beautiful person.”

  ◆◆◆

  A funeral was arranged to be held later that day. It was the biggest funeral the kingdom had ever seen, as it was not only for the king, but also for all who fell at the hands of evil during the battle, which had been appropriately named, the Battle of the Dragon King. Regulus had called for a truce between his people and the Rejicio, stating that they had never been his enemy and he had no disagreement with them. Bello had been safely locked in a decadent chamber, guarded by knights, but not before Regulus could come up with a social contract of peace between them. Regulus let her people know she committed a crime separate from them and would have a fair and just trial and be treated with respect given her position. Most of the Rejicio stayed for the funeral, putting aside their differences for the sake of peace and to honor the dead. They all came to the agreement that they shared one common enemy- the Tenebris. It was in this truth that they had made a proper truce between Rejicio and the citizens of the four cities.

  Regulus grudgingly left Mythia in her old chambers to dress for the funeral and disappeared down the hall into his own room to get himself ready. She bathed thoroughly, washing away days’ worth of grime and dried blood. Her closet was still full of all her favorite gowns, and she picked out the same one Ventus had her wear to her father’s funeral- a long black gown that shimmered like a thousand diamonds had been sewn into the very threads of the fabric. She pulled her fingers through her wet hair, working out all the knots and made two small braids in the front that she pulled back and joined together to fall into one long braid down the back of her flowing dark hair.

  She studied the tall mirror that she had glanced into so many times, but this was the first time she had truly felt like herself. No more alias, no more lies, no pretenses. She was Mythia and she never had to be anyone else again.

  ◆◆◆

  Regulus stood on the wide elegant stairs leading into the castle, dressed in the knight’s formal wear, his light blue cloak rippling in the breeze. The afternoon air was mild, every bit of snow that fell the previous day completely melted and gone without any signs it had ever happened. He clutched onto Mythia’s soft hand, holding tightly to the one he had dreamed about all those long, agonizing months, breathtakingly beautiful in her sparkling gown. He could not have wished for anyone else to stand by his side for as long as he lived.

  All the knights that had survived yesterday’s battle stood in rows in the courtyard. The citizens from all over the kingdom surrounded the castle and filled the hills with their heavy presence. Not a single bounty hunter had shown their face since the battle, a fact that made Regulus smile slightly through the pain. He suspected they had fled to the farthest edges of the kingdom, back to where they had come from, before the new order was put into place. His father’s body still laid on the stone table in the courtyard, appearing more at peace than he had ever seen him while alive. Regulus looked proudly upon the rows of knights, closely followed by a dozen straight lines of Rejicio soldiers. Titus was too injured to stand amongst them, but Mythia’s recruits were all there, glowing with pride and honor.

  Voices floated from a balcony high on the castle, tremors and sopranos of men and women sinking down all around the courtyard, flooding it with sounds both beautiful and devastating. They sung in the ancient language, filling his heart with both sadness and peace. The deep vibrations of the song choked him up and formed a new lump in his throat, but he clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, pushing it down. Now was not the time for tears, not while he stood on the tall stairs like this, surrounded by his people. Now was the time to show his kingdom the strength of their new king.

  Mythia squeezed his hand, pouring her love into him, her comfort coursing through his blood and beating heart. He swallowed t
he lump away and took one last steadying breath as the choir landed their song on a high note that hovered in the air and spread out upon the entire kingdom.

  “My people of Terra,” his voice bellowed crisp and clear. An eerie silence fell upon the city. “We gather here today not to mourn the death, but to celebrate the life of my father, King Tribus, and the lives of all who fell at the hands of evil in yesterday’s battle.” He paused for a moment, allowing time for his words to circulate through the thick crowds. “I hope that this devastation had taught us all a lesson.” His eyes slid over the Rejicio soldiers. “That not all those in power can be trusted, despite the many promises they have to offer us. That we are united, not as citizens of Terra, not as people of Draconis, or Fenniks, or Monoceros, or even Trigonus. Not as the Rejicio. We are united as human beings.”

  All eyes were glued to Regulus as his voice carried across the rolling hills. He glanced now at his knights. “We pay our respects for those who fought not just for duty, but for the pure love of Terra. We are a beautiful land, and united together we are a vision of pulchritudinous.” Regulus swallowed, looking down at his father who lay in rest. Mythia gave his hand another reassuring squeeze. “And I have learned, that even the strongest, that even our very own brave king, my father, can still be too weak to overcome the temptations and the tremendous power that evil has to offer. It is my hope that the horrific events of the battle and the horror of death and grief that follow will help remind us why we must never give in to evil's temptations. It is my hope that we all share the same desire to defeat this evil, let goodness of the human heart take over, and allow peace to prosper and reign once again.”