The Forsaken

EPILOGUE

After one year...

Through the pouring rain, a cloaked man enters the tavern; walking towards the barkeep, he sits as water drips from his clothes.

“A beer,” the cloaked man says.

“It’s raining hard tonight. We have a hearth if you want to warm yourself up,” the barkeep says, pouring the beer.

“Is there any work?” the cloaked man asks as he removes a few coins from his pouch and tosses them on the table.

“You a mercenary or something like that?” the barkeep asks.

“Something like that,” the cloaked man adds as he chugs the beer in one go.

“There are a few bounties posted on the wall but all small-time thugs apart from that there is...” the barkeep says stopping mid-sentence sighing and cleaning a cup.

“Apart from that?” the cloaked man asks taping on the table signaling for another drink.

“There are reports about a creature appearing in the village of Charon and slaughtering the folk there, but I would stay clear from that if I were you. I hear it is a demon. Supposedly, the creature is as tall as two men and has limbs as sharp as blades. Evil times these are,” the barkeep says, shaking his head.

“Where is this village?” the cloaked man asks, chugging the second beer.

“You are not thinking of going there? I told you about the creature. Do you want to throw your life away?” the barkeep asks.

“Where is it?” the cloaked man patiently asks again.

“It is southeast from here, two days travel, but..” the barkeep speaks as the cloaked man suddenly stands.

“Give me a bottle of wine for the road,” the cloaked man asks as he throws more coins on the table.

“Here.“ the barkeep gives him the wine.

The cloaked man walks away.

“Do you have a death wish? Have you ever faced monsters?” the barkeep yells.

The cloaked man smirks as he leaves the tavern; his image hidden, the only thing that reveals is a pure white sword hanging from his side.

Elsewhere.

Melione is washing her face in a river; looking at her reflection as water drips, making slight ripples upon impact. She looks at her reflection. Beneath her neck, where Boreas placed his hands. There is a grey scar.

The voice whispers.

“She is not here,” Two says.

“She is not,” Melione responds.

“We must find the deceiver and...” Two says.

“...kill her,” Melione finishes the sentence.

“Yes! Kill,” Two adds.

“Dead like bunnies in the fields, dead like bunnies in the fields,” Melione gently sings.

“You have turned against our master?” One says.

“I know who you are One. You are Ekathe,” Melione says.

“Enough with your lies,” Two screams angrily as the other voice laughs.

“Where are you?” Melione asks.

“You have unexpectedly fulfilled your purpose. We are done. Pray that we do not meet again, for it will make your already brief life even shorter,” Ekateh says.

“We will meet again, Ekateh, and then...” Melione says.

“KILL!” Two screams.

“You kill me? Does a fly wish to slay a lion? Does a...” Hekate speaks as Melione closes her eyes; Hekate screams as the voice fades. She throws the white rose amulet in the river.

“She is gone. There can be only one and that is Two,” Two says.

Ulric appears with a new crossbow in his right hand with the name Everose carved in the wood and in his left hand a small dead rabbit.

“Another dead end. She eluded us yet again. Where to next?” Ulric asks as he sets up wood for a fire.

“We follow our nose,” Melione says faintly smiling. This is her way.

The streets of Union stand brimming with life, more so than before, as civilians walk through them living their everyday lives; soldiers patrol the walls and the streets as merchants sell their wares. Prosperity is on the rise, but there are always those that live in hardship. City folks pass through ignoring a starving child begging for food on a lonesome corner; the raised skinny and trembling hands do not give up. What other choice is there?

“Are you hungry, boy?” a deep and imposing voice asks.

The child raises his head with a struggle as beside him stands a tall and imposing dark-skinned man with burn marks on his face wearing a priest’s robe.

“Yes,” the child answers barely audibly.

Shaphas gives him a piece of bread as the child eats it with all haste.

“Thank you,” the child says with a mouthful of bread.

“Do you want to come to a place where you will not starve?” Shaphas asks.

“Not starve?” the child repeats as his eyes receive a fresh glow.

“Come,” Shaphas says, extending his hand.

They reach a newly built church as they walk the other priests respectably bow to Shaphas. The boy notices a blue flame in the background shining brightly and warmly; certain sounds emanate from the place.

“What is that song?” the boy asks.

“Those are sounds made from a special stone. It is called Adipenatria or singing stones,” Shaphas explains, smiling.

“Singing stones?” the boy asks, listening to the mystical melody.

“Archbishop Shaphas,” a priest says, walking past and slightly bowing to him.

“Archbishop?” the boy asks as the blue glow of the place reflects.

“I am Archbishop Shaphas of the church of Aion,” Shaphas says.

“Aion? Who is that?” the boy asks.

“Aion... was a prophet. He teaches those that are lost and with his guidance, the forsaken shall find a path,” Shaphas explains.

“Find a path?” the boy repeats.

“Tell me, do you want to become a follower of Aion?” Shaphas asks the boy.

“Will I not starve?” the boy asks.

“You shall not starve,” Shaphas says as he laughs.

“Then I do,” the boy answers with determination.

“Good. You must work hard and listen, and if you do good, I shall give you the opportunity,” Shaphas says.

“I will,” the boy says.

Shaphas nods as he leads the boy across the church; they come to a closed door.

“Here is where you will stay for the time being,” Shaphas says, opening the door. Voices appear from inside, voices of other children as they joyfully run around and play. They stop at the sight of the Archbishop.

“This is your new brother. Treat him well,” Shaphas says as the children stand in attention. He leaves as he heads to his quarters; sitting, he opens and reads the journal he got from the Black Tower.

Dressed in an exquisite blue-black dress, Noname walks through the halls of the castle. She enters a room.

“How is he?” Noname asks.

Inside the room Lord Belmon lies in a bed, his face and body shriveled as a doctor stands by his side.

“I’m afraid he is not good, and it will only get worse,” the doctor says.

The hardly recognizable Lord Belmon twists and turns.

“It was all a lie! A lie!” Lord Belmon screams in paranoia.

“It is I, Valima,” Noname says.

“No! You are not her. Princess Valima was killed when she was a child! You are an impostor from the witch. I...I... who am I?” Lord Belmon asks, looking around.

“I can’t believe he is saying all these things. That day when he made you the official heir, and you went to the Great North he was doing fine until he collapsed and this is the result. He is losing his mind but the strange thing is I never saw a disease like this,” the doctor says.

“Help him as much as possible,” Noname says.

There is a knock on the door; Master Abacus enters.

“It is time, your majesty,” Master Abacus says.

“Tedious,” Noname replies as she follows him.

“Some things never change,” Master Abacus says with a smile.

Outside, the city folk of Union gather in masses.

“She will come,” a person in the crowd says.

“I wonder what sort of dress will she wear,” a lady of the night asks giggling with her friends.

“She was one of us, you know?” an older man tells another.

Upon the high balcony, Noname appears in the company of Master Abacus and Rash-An; the crowd cheers.

“Don’t you have something else to do,” Noname asks turning to Rash-An.

“I only live to protect you, your majesty,” Rash-An responds as he slightly bows. Noname grunts in dissatisfaction.

“People of Union, it is my pleasure to present to you Queen Valima of Garniot,” Master Abacus introduces her as the crowd cheers and claps.

“Is this necessary?” Noname silently asks, turning to the old teacher.

“I’m afraid so,” Master Abacus responds with a smile as Noname rolls her eyes at him. Noname steps up as the crowd grows silent.

“People of Union, one year has passed since the Northmen have invaded our city. That time we were weak and ill-prepared, but we still defended ourselves,” Noname says as the crowd cheers.

“I will not lie to you hard times will fall upon us; we lost many outstanding soldiers, friends, and family. The joint forces we sent to the Great North under the command of General Iro have been defeated and still, to this day, we face attacks on all fronts,” Noname speaks as the crowd murmurs in fear.

“Do not be afraid! We are no longer weak, we are no longer ill-prepared! We shall prevail, for we are strong!” Noname yells as the crowd ecstatically cheers.

“Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!” the crowd yells in unison.

“Beautiful and with no errors in speech,” Master Abacus adds with a smile.

“Shaddup ya twat,” Noname responds.

“Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!” the crowd continues chanting.

She looks at them as her right eye twitches and her finger flipping and uncontrollably she blurts out... DEATH TO THE QUEEN!